Cheer Leader Extraordinnaire

This week in my world of freaks, philosophers, and academia:

- “I’m getting this tattoo to symbolize my love for WW2 and pinup girls.”
- “The choices we make, not the chances we take, determine our destiny.”
- “A ship is safe in the harbor but is not built for that.”
- Someone’s title on Linkedin: IT geek, pater familias, obstinate dreamer & house builder.
- *** This week's winner: While researching universities where (insert name) company should recruit talented engineers: “Engineering, Design & Society was originally designed for talented girls with a bachelor's degree in Civil Engineering or Mechanical Engineering... But in fact may be suitable for everyone (even guys) that are not yet sure if such a technical study something for him or her.”

I did some cheer leading for J this past Sunday. I was feeling silly and rowdy. Yanno, like a cheerleader. Only, I hadn’t had any coffee yet, so my moves were, well, a bit rusty. Okay, honestly, I haven't done any cheer leading since I was 17. I'm late thirties. You do the math. He watched the entire time with a half smile on his face. When I was done, he was speechless. I said, “What do you think?” He said, “You haven’t done that in a while, have you?”

I totally scored on Sinterklaas: J made me a gigantic Nike shoe out of construction paper with chocolate and a really beautiful umbrella inside (my 2-year old broken umbrella is now laid to rest). I gave him an accupunctured Ernie (with pepernoten cookies pinned into his back symbolizing his massage). We had a really good Sinterklaas. I got absolutely no coal whatsoever. Whew.

Uncle Kiki

The thing about the month of December is that you cannot run fast enough from the fat booty trying to attach itself to you. Yanno, the extra one you really didn’t ask for? Yeah, that one. It can sneak up on you in so many ways that somehow, though it happens every December, you selectively displace from your memory how it happened just last December. And it’s SUCH a surprise – this struggle, once more. Namely, this happens via your greedy pie hole that insists on stuffing itself (nice passive voice makes me feel better about it all – a bit helpless, you know?) full of holiday candies and cookies that (a) you have baked at home for yourself or family and friends, (b) your boss has sent to you as a holiday gift (note: when things are sent from your homeland, you are especially energetic about eating all of the things sent in one sitting to fully enjoy good home cookin’), (c) friends and family sent beautifully wrapped tins and bins of goodies that either (i) they want you to try as local foods you’ve never tried before (except that one time at the Christmas market in Belgium last year but don’t hurt their feelings), or (ii) family and friends who sent care packages (I like to call them “spare tire” packages) with treats, or finally (d) you bought yourself because you thought you might miss out – as if no one was going to give/send/bake you something this whole month.

The fact that so many people are out there who simply do not open and eat these heartfelt gifts is absolutely appalling. People, why do you guilt yourself out of enjoying this holiday cheer? For one moment, ignore the extra booty. I especially dislike the health nut freaks who claim they have strong enough will to get through the holiday season eating carrot sticks at parties… I promise to never have carrot sticks at my parties in December – the sacrilege! Do you see where my justification process begins already? I’m sick, SICK! It could be the two chocolate-covered macadamias I just ate for breakfast at work – the big boss in California sent a box. There’s no reason to be rude.

Sigh. January will be here before we know it. And that makes me pretty happy, though the Buddhist in me (somewhere amongst the chocolate-covered macadamias, truffles, and lolly pops) knows I need to slow down, enjoy the holiday season upon us, live in the moment (I really did enjoy those chocolate-covered macadamias – does that count?), and embrace what “is”. January brings such exciting new things in our lives: we get the keys to our new house 15 Jan, then work on it to perty her up for two weeks, then move in end of Jan. Pretty exciting stuff. I cannot believe I am getting a new kitchen – a brand new kitchen! I am living in my moment of bliss over the kitchen (yanno, that materialistic, tangible thing… Buddha is shaking his head). Remind me that I said I was excited about all the work to come, will you?

My sweet little nephew, de Kobus, is talking up a storm. He calls chocolate “colala” – which I have to agree, is a more appropriate name for chocolate – it is a French, sensual experience, to be sure (ohlala!)… I am “Tante Kiki!!” always with complete enthusiasm hence the exclamation point, and J is “Om Kiki” – the husband of Aunt Kiki. That always makes me giggle. Apparently, I have left quite the impression on little Kobus that even my husband is Uncle Kiki. Truly, I think Kiki is just fun to say for kids. But J’s name is fun to say too… our little friend, Luuk, Michiel and Vivanda’s son, calls J “Ap”, which means “Monkey”. Poor guy can’t get a break when it comes to kids saying his name. But does he have a way with kids! Oh, melts my heart to see him patiently explaining how something works. He is going to be such a good daddy someday (no, that is not insinuating anything!). Just marveling at my husband’s talent to make all babies love him. My own little Pied Piper. :)

Sint

Yesterday someone put wrapped gift boxes over the video cameras shooting traffic around Holland as a Sinterklaas present to the masses who had to drive maybe a little bit faster than normally to granny's for the holiday. Only the Dutch police would publicly agree that it was funny and dismiss looking into it. I love this country.

I have been so exhausted lately that when I fall asleep, it's within a minute of laying my head on the pillow. It also gives me really weird dreams. A couple weeks ago, I woke up a few minutes after falling deep asleep and it went something like this:

"(mumble mumble mumble) Eric! No, not Eric, Marc!...... He lived down the street when I was young.... Eric, not Marc! I'm sorry Hon, I'm sleeping in and out of my dream....(J: "That's a great story Sweetie.") Hehehehe...... Eric Reece is his name, not Marc! Not Marc!!!!!!!!........."

Then last night I was trashed-exhausted after partying with Mrs. Q and G. for Sinterklaas. They made us a "surprise" - a funny gift wrap over a real gift in Holland on Sinterklaas - a gigantic cardboard box house with window cutouts and a fake mouse hanging out the window. There were pictures of us all over the inside of the house from our wedding. All the disposable cameras we set out and the kiddos ran around taking pictures with - all those photos. We had honestly dismissed the cameras after seeing the kids running around taking pictures of flowers in the garden. But Mrs. Q wanted to develop them. They were hilarious! Jaap with his mouth wide open, showing all his teeth, adults smiling at the camera - clearly looking at kiddos taking the picture, very artistic, very skewed pictures of the wedding party. They were great. Really fun to see the kids' perspective of the wedding. Such a treat! Never dismiss a kiddo and his/her artistic ability.

Turkey Day in Amsterdam

This weekend we celebrated American Thanksgiving in Amsterdam in style: Cajun blue cheese and mushroom hamburgers at the Hard Rock Café. Deeeeeeeelish. There ain’t nothin’ like an American hamburger. No way. Oh, and of course, a minty chocolate martini for me and a mojito for J. Who needs turkey and mashed potatoes when I FINALLY got my American hamburger after one and a half years in Holland?!?!? It didn’t even matter to us that we were thirsty as if walking in the desert for a week for the rest of the day, many thanks to the salty American burger and steak fries (oh, how I love you steak fries with spices). No, no. That didn’t worry us one bit. But we did drink gallons of water at the kitchen store that afternoon, where we spent 5 hours planning our kitchen in the new house. That was awesome. We had so much fun envisioning how pretty it will be., It’s modern with a tiny taste of country. Mostly modern though. It’s so pretty!!!!!

And I didn't have to eat turkey this Thanksgiving, which always makes me happy. Not a turkey fan. Amen to expat Thanksgiving!

I have a problem: I like to stuff food. Meaning, if I can put meat, cheese, mushrooms, Boursin, or pine nuts inside peppers, eggplants, chicken, or anything that looks remotely like a shell and is edible, I want to bake it – after I stuff it, of course. Maybe it’s a winter thing. Maybe I need things to be full or hearty. I don’t know what it is. I like it. So if you’re coming to our house for dinner sometime soon, you’re getting something stuffed and baked. Good? Good. But no turkey. Let's be clear.

J and I were laughing hysterically this weekend. It felt so good to laugh hard. I won’t even bore you with what we thought was get-outta-here-funny. But it was. Yanno when you laugh so hard you have tears rolling down your cheeks? Yep, that’s the one. I love my husband.

I saw a blind guy riding his bicycle the other day. WTF? I am all for people pushing their limits and living outside the lines... but uh... it was a busy street and there were kids and cars all around. Made us all a little confused. We just got the hell out of the way. Maybe that's what he thought we would all do. Huh. For the rest of my walk, I shook my head and laughed. Love the audacity. Go on with yo' bad self, Man.

Christmas is coming so fast this year. Where has this year gone? I’m serious. When I was younger, I always rolled my eyes when an adult would say, “This year has gone so fast – where has the time gone?!!” Whatever. In those days, school couldn’t end fast enough. But I’m getting what they were asking now. Where in the world HAS the time gone this year?!?! It just blew past me, this year. I feel like just yesterday, J and I were beginning to look at wedding venues and talking to the florist… we’ve been married now a little over 3 months and I just can’t believe all that has happened! Life has been very good to us this year. And now we are topping it off with amazing jobs (I just got my dream job!!!), a new house, health, happiness, and love. I don't think we can ask for anything more. Well, maybe world peace. Hey, why not ask?

Too Much Water

So, here I am again. Life is just so crazy! We've been running around like wild chickens for our jobs (i.e. big presentations for both of us and interviews for me), looking for kitchens for the new house (found it, we think!), getting my hair done at a new stylist (Buddha save us all, that is always such an anxiety-ridden joy ride for me - they usually cannot get my hair color... I secretly, okay outright pine for Alfred in Boston... I digress), seeing friends who are traveling into Holland and out, and now, for the love of Allah, I am home sick with the flu. Damnit. I was doing so well this fall. Ah well, let's get over it and move on. But yesterday one of my girls told me the grim reality of people who are dying from it, which of course sent me into a tailspin. So, forget being American and going to work sick. No way. I am hanging on the couch (right - what is my problem with just sitting the F down?!?!?), hanging with Duckie the wonder cat, and watching chick flicks. J is working in Belgium today, so I am hangin', watching the rain blow sideways outside.

I suck on sending wedding thank yous. I do. I know I do. And for some reason, I can find about 25 other things to do every time I think, "Hey, this could be a good time to sit down and write even 5 thank you letters." No, "Why now?" I think. I could be hanging laundry or unloading the dishwasher or going grocery shopping or writing on my blog (read: latest excuse). It's not that hard, for crying out loud. "Dear (insert name), thank you for the lovely wedding gift(s). Love, K&J". But of course, I want to thank each person for the individual gift they gave. And that just makes it complex in my world - even though I have the list of gifts we received and from whom. Yes, that's right,Kristin. Make it harder. Good job. Still, so hard. Suck it up, Kristin. Write your thank yous. Be a decent person, eh? Yes, yes, just after I write on my blog here...

We are supposed to go to Ireland this week for 4 days. Huh. That could be interesting, given that Cork is under water at the moment. Flooded, along with much of the rest of Ireland, England, and Scotland. Not sure what we're going to do yet. We asked the hotel this weekend if we should still come. Their response: "Dear Mr. and Mrs. Q, at the moment we are without drinking water and our sanitary system is not working in full, but of course, you can imagine we will do everything to make sure you have a pleasant stay..." Uuuuum, we appreciate that you will do everything you can - we're okay delaying our trip, b/c yanno, we understand the given horrible circumstances you are all surviving in and also, it's nice to have a running toilet. Buuuuuuuuuuuuut... it's a toss-up. Part of me is like, "Hey, just buy some cheap Wellies and go wade through the streets to the pubs." The good Kristin in me says, "Why not even go volunteer some time this week in Ireland, helping the flood victims, sandbagging (oh, the irony), etc?" Then the high-maintenance, I would like a small vacation where I can relax Kristin says, "Um, no thanks. How about pushing out our reservations and sticking at home for a long weekend?" The clencher is: Tori and Tommy are coming and it would just be so lovely to hang with them for the weekend. Who cares if you're drinking Guinness with water up to your knees in a musty old pub? They smell like they've been flooded for years anyway, right? Right. Haven't quite sold myself on trekking all the way just yet. While it's very reassuring that the hotel also told us, "You can drive from the airport to our hotel," I am just not sure if they mean a car or a boat. TBD.

A Little Blue

I keep accidentally typing “Froever.” I think I like it better than “forever”. I love you froever : I will always love you with an afro. I think that says so much more than just “forever.” With volume, chic and a little pizzazz. Yep, I’m gonna keep it.

Ahhhhh, last week was crap. Our hearts are so heavy with having lost our sweet little LuluBirdy. For a few nights, it's taken me a few hours to finally fall asleep. I was feeling so much guilt over letting Lulu go. I think it all boils down to feeling like we promised Lulu that she could trust us, that we would take care of her, and love her with all our hearts. And then we took her to be put down (after loving her with all our hearts while we have had her). Of course, she was very sick and feeling horrible. The thing that was so hard was looking at her and seeing her beautiful little green eyes looking into our souls, her warm, fuzzy, rabbit fur soft to touch, and her sweet little freckles moving with her whiskers. It felt like she was saying, “I trusted you guys.” But I do think she was truly saying, “Thank you for helping me stop this suffering.” Maybe that’s just me trying to make myself feel better about the horror of letting her go. I have shed so many crocodile tears, my tear ducts are empty, my mind is tired, my heart hurts. I woke this weekend thinking of Lulu when we first got her: she ran up to us and meowed so heartily at the pound, screaming, “Me! Me! Take me! I’m sweet and cute and I promise to love you! I might poke holes in the moldings, the couch, and any plastic sack you accidentally leave out on the counter. But I promise to always love you guys.” :) Oh, and she did. In the early days, when she was feeling healthy, in the morning when we came out into the living room, she would meow “hello!” just once, and so hard that her head would bounce like she was nodding hello as she said it. Ah, such a sweetie pie… I miss you, LuluBird. I miss your sweet little lady-like paws on my lap and all your sweet cuddles.

We were worried about how Duckie might respond, through the night and mornings. He has been such a love bug, purring heavily, looping around our legs and letting us hold him longer than usual. He runs around every night playing with his mice and catnip toys. We play with him with his favorite toy and he jumps over and over again for the bouncy ball on a string. Our little boy is going to be just fine. I think he really grieved Lulu the past few weeks, knowing before we even did that she was sick and suffering. He’s probably relieved that his little sister is peaceful, climbing curtains and chasing spiders in Buddha’s house. It’s such a wonderful dream that gives me peace.

I told J that no matter how much I love the idea of being a farmer, working hard outside and spending my days with animals, I don’t think I could really do it because I would always love my animals so much that it would pain me to see them pass. So I think I will just be a #1 country music fan and visit Aunt Kerry on the farm in Oregon when we can get out there. And I will smile at the cows on my drive to and from work.

It is true that when someone is lost, someone else is brought into this world. This past week, I learned that one of my dear friends had her long-awaited baby girl (congrats S!!!!). I’m not sure if she named her little girl after one of the greatest singers ever to grace us on earth, but Ella is a great name for a great woman. I have high hopes for this little girl. I also learned that my dear Tor is prego again. Yippee! She is SUCH a great mom who I could only wish to be a tenth as good someday. I couldn’t be happier for my girls. They give me hope, inspiration, and peace just when I’ve lost my little fuzzy girl. Life does go on. We all do continue to live our lovely, gift of life. I’m going to do something really special for myself this week. I don’t know what. But I am going to celebrate life. It is meant to be cherished gratefully.

R.I.P. Sweet LuluBirdy

Our sweet little Lulu passed away tonight. She died of Kitty Leukemia. It was the saddest thing to sit with her as she died. We miss her so much here in the house tonight. I hope you're chasing birds and butterflies right now in kitty heaven, Lulu.

Fish Tacos

I am on a freakin' hilarious Facebook string:

Original post (not me - a friend, I swear!): California is easily the most bureaucratic, ass-backwards, self-centered, shit-cluster of a state ever shrugged-off by Mexico. It deserves wildfires.

Responses:

- Why? What did you do?
- Cali has gorgeous areas. So does Colorado. Maine. Ireland. Italy. But when dealing with the DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles), I almost never talk to a clear creek or a benevolent doe.
- The CA DMV is extremely effective at inspiring assisted suicide.
- Amen bruthuh! Still, I miss the fish tacos.
- WA has no places with excellent fish tacos. It is the worst thing about moving back to Seattle. They microwave fish sticks, throw them onto a corn tortilla and top it with tartar sauce....
- There's a Mexi-pub down on Montlake I can't recall the name of that makes a decent fish taco. All others are tuna wraps.
- WA clearly has CA beat for scenic beauty, but more importantly WA has fewer scenic areas with excellent fish tacos. Its a matter of priorities.
- Who said you had to move there?

Who knew fish tacos would get so much mileage on Facebook?

Homesick Girl

Well, it's ABOUT time! I am officially homesick tonight. H-O-M-E-S-I-C-K. I will preface my list of all the things I miss so much with this: I adore my husband - love him with everything I am and I am so happy we live here together in Holland. LOVE him to pieces! I think the thing I miss the most is a little bit of me. I liked that girl and need to find her a little bit again. I miss:

- Walking on the beach in California by my mom's old house
- Grasshopper martinis in La Jolla with my husband at the beach bar
- Working for a KILLER team at an outstanding company (Fidelity, I miss you so much!)
- Laughing so hard with my girls that we cough like 20-year chain smokers
- Fresh Dunkin' Donuts decaf with 2 sugars and milk
- Red Sox baseball games, caps, and jerseys
- Houston's and Red Robin Cheeseburgers
- Weekly US Magazines
- My gorgeous BMW X5 with the heated steering wheel
- Alfred, my hairstylist (oh, I miss my reddish brown hair and sassy cuts)
- Diversity Leadership Weekends with my Fidelity team
- Pretty, inexpensive home accessory stores with friendly staff
- Target
- Nobody laughing at my big white tennis shoes
- Walking and running at Greenlake
- Really smart people I work with
- Traveling for work and getting reimbursed for it
- Endless supply of English language books
- Kitten and spiky heels
- Padded push-up bras
- Pike Place Market
- Fresh crab, lobster, and shrimp
- The smell of the Northwest
- Daytrips to Bainbridge Island, Vancouver, and Leavenworth
- Hiking Snow Lake
- Rajin' Cajin Sandwich at the Other Coast Cafe in Ballard (Seattle)
- Fred Myers (oh, I love you so much Freddy's!!)
- Pedicures at Lauren's on Newbury Street
- My mom and my brother
- Visiting Aunt Kerry at the farm in Bend, Oregon
- Riding my bike at Sunriver in Oregon
- The entrance to Yellowstone in Montana
- Driving cross-country on the I-90
- Ogunquit, Maine
- The Scoop Deck
- Nantucket and the Cape
- Grabbing Thai in Queen Anne
- Teaching at the university
- University Village in Seattle
- Showing my hubby where I'm from and that American girl he loves

Okay, I know there's so much more (I didn't have pics of all the people I love and miss!). But that should do it for tonight. I'm going to go to bed now. I miss you, America. I miss you, Seattle, California, New England. I miss you, girls. :)

Home Sweet Home in Bennebroek

Today is National Soup Day in Holland. Yep, you read that correctly. :) What exactly is National Soup Day, you ask? It’s one day a year when companies and restaurants serve a nice bowl of soup for free in exchange for a contribution to a child’s meal. For every 20 cents donated, a child gets a meal. It’s really a lovely idea to feed the needy – and the whole country gets involved. Yeah, the name made me laugh, but the cause is wonderful.

I have something very exciting to share… drum roll please… we got the house!!!!! YEAH!!! Very exciting. VERY exciting. Amen bruthuhs and sistuhs! We found out today around noon and I have been floating ever since. We got a killer deal – the sellers dropped pretty drastically right away. I guess it is a sign of the times. I would feel badly that they didn’t get much, expect that I happen to know what they bought the house for and they’re walking away with a good 35k still. Perfect, no. But a little equity, yep. AND they gifted us our first house. Our first house! We can do stuff to it and not have to feel like it’s wasted euros!! I have been daydreaming for a week now about all the things we could do with this house. There’s nothing “wrong” with it, per say. Yeah, a couple things will need to be redone/replaced/ripped out…. But nothing that must happen. And that feels really good. We don’t get to move in until middle of January, but hey, why rush spending a little more right away when we can clean out what we have, sell things we don’t need anymore, and pack with a little calm? That’s a new one for both of us!

Home sweet home! Our new home is in “Bennebroek”, pronounced “behnehbrook”. Cute, eh?

Dissed 'Americans'

Why am I so sensitive to loud Americans? I’m pretty sure we’re not all loud. Are we? Monday night I went to a networking event where a Canadian hockey player spoke to a group of diverse students and professionals about leadership potential and following your dream. Now, I am a HUGE fan of leadership development and motivational presentations. Huge. However, when the speaker is a really loud American, I want to run away and hide. I realize I’m a cynic at times in the purest form, but come on! Without sounding too harsh or cynical, this guy’s booming voice made my skin crawl! I met him about 5 minutes before he went up on stage to begin. Here’s how it went:

Mark (Speaker): “Hi! (Volume 9 on a scale of 1-10, 10 being the loudest). I’m Mark. Salerno… what kind of a name is that?!?! Where are you from?!?!”
Me: “I’m, American.”
Mark: “Where are you from in America!?!?”
Me: “I’m from all over: My family’s in California. I lived in Oregon and Washington for most of my life, then Boston for school and work.”
Mark: “Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Blah!! Blah! I am going to speak now! Bye!!!”

Five minutes into his presentation: “I met a an American woman here tonight… but you know, she says ‘American’ and well, I’m Canadian and I think “American” is really up for discussion… because we are so different…” (Shakes head and laughs). Uh-huh. Okay, That’s interesting because the way I see it, you’re a loud, Canadian hockey player who is blasting us right out of the room with how close you’re speaking to the microphone – people actually have their hands over their ears. Hmmm… For the record, he didn’t inspire anyone with words of wisdom or prophetic insight. He just made people think all “Americans” are loud, opinionated, and have really bad humor. Great. Thanks Dude. Can this particular Canadian not be American tonight please? I know a bunch of Canadians – they’re not all loud. Maybe it’s just a hockey player thing? Doesn’t matter. In the end, all the Europeans I was sitting with at the conference were rolling their eyes and had already made up in their minds that all Americans are loud and obnoxious.

I realize lately that I am a bit sensitive to people trashing Americans (myself included, if you want to include Canadians in the American group). Admittedly, when I hear many Americans talking around town, at a restaurant, on the street or on our travels recently to Greece… I insist on speaking Dutch so no one thinks I’m “one of them.” But who am I kidding?!? I am loud too! Still, it’s a love-hate thing: I love being American. I am American. And yet, so often, I don’t identify myself as an American. It’s a weird, displaced, disowned, simply all-out “dissed” feeling when you’re an expat. I can very easily agree when I hear Europeans say, “Ahhh, Americans. They are loud, wear big white tennis shoes and work too much.” True, true. BUT, I sincerely believe we are a generally lovable lot. We smile a lot, we laugh at funny things, we have excellent business practices (some of the stuff you see around here would make an American choke), and we do have AMAZING food and restaurants. I really could go on forever… I don’t really have a solution to share. I just feel like thinking on paper. And that’s as far as I’ve gotten today on the whole matter.

Okay, what is the deal with people who are selling their house but haven’t even started looking for another house where they’re moving? The sellers of the house I THINK we’re getting want a 4 month move-out period. WT…? That puts us to a March move-in. Uh, no. No thank you. Commuting already is ridiculous for us with 2 hours each way for each person. Ugh. It’s hard to imagine us doing this for another 4 months. I suppose if it’s the way we get this house we want so badly, then we work with it. We’re trying to see if we can negotiate moving in Jan-Feb somewhere. Fingers crossed. When we finally do get a house, sign the financial papers, and move our booties in, I am gonna crack open a big old Grolsch and maybe sleep for 5 days straight. It’s so stressful! And so emotional. You start really imagining yourself in the house, living there, your kitties running around and ruining crap there, eating your breakfast in the new kitchen, reading the Sunday paper in the new living room with the fire toasting your tootsies. People, I’ve got a new life to live! Make it happen.

I think I need to get myself checked into a Mentos-Addict rehabilitation center. I have a problem. They just keep popping into my mouth, one after the other. “Hi, I’m Kristin. And I’m a Mentos-Aholic.” :Hiiiiiiiii Kristin.” Allah, save me!

Random: The other morning it smelled like holy water in the country, driving to work. Things that make you go “huh.”

The Dona

The end of an email from my mom today:

"P.S. Save the earth. It's the only planet with chocolate."

Amen sistuh.

So freakin' tired. Just got home from work. Beddy bye!

A Lotta Bull

There's a guy at work named Rakan. "Rock on" is how you pronounce it. You can imagine the struggle I have every time I need to get his attention. I am always right on the edge of giggling and saying his name like 10 times really fast and loud. I know, I need to grow up. Today he helped me find some of our company videos for promotions. It was REALLY hard not to say, "Rock on, Rakan!" So I'm writing it instead, to get it out of my system. It's really not as satisfying to write. Someone on my team is dating him and I swear, every time he walks over to say something to her, I find immense pleasure in saying, "Hey, Rock on!"

It's really key to distract myself especially this week as (a) I've been home sick two days and I get absurdly bored sitting on the couch, (b) we are in heavy negotiations with sellers of a house we want and they're not playing fair AT ALL (I'm not being childish), and (c) I get bored with the same old same old with work so slow. So please, PLEASE distract me in any way you can. I beg of you!

J pointed out to me last night that my big thing to say lately is "I call bullshit." With all the house negotiations lately, it is true, I seem to say it a lot. As we were getting ready for bed last night, he said, "Yanno, when you say it, are you actually planning to call Bullshit? Because you've been talking about him a lot lately and I'm not sure if I should be feeling weird about you calling someone else all the time when you're pissed." He's got a point. I have called Bullshit a LOT lately. But you know, it's not an infatuaton. It's more a compulsive obsessive need to establish my wisdom about house negotiations. Here's my wisdom in a nutshell: (a) I like the general look of a house (chuh-ching! That'll cost us 200k from the get-go), (b) I can/cannot cook in the kitchen as it is (value can fluctuate 15k either way), (c) hey, there's a small room that could be converted into a walk-in closet (score! +10k), (d) OMG - there are exposed pipes all over the house (LAME: +5k to hide them in columns and cases), and (e) (I'll spare you all of the other ridiculius crap I look at with a house - thank Buddha J looks at the important things like electricity and the foundation) the yard is green (+30k). That should make 245k right? Yeah, I WISH that is what it cost to buy a house around here. But we are having fun looking and dreaming. Just occasionally ringing dishrags with the negotiations.

Anise & Tolstoy

Every time. Every time I watch Extreme Home Makeover, I cry like a baby. Yanno, the hyperventilating, crocodile tears? Tonight the home builder told the story of his own son who had a brain tumor at 2 years of age. He said, "It changes your life and you're never the same." Yeah, that's true. It does. I didn't cry yet though. It was the end of the show when he said, "This is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me (building the house for another family of a child with Leukemia). It has changed my life." He caught his breath and I caught mine. People struggle every day. And yet, they get on with life. We all get on with life, no matter what comes our way. I've gotta remember that when the weather is turning rainy, the sellers of the house we want to buy are fixated on a set price that is not even close to the value of their house, I feel yucky with the flu... Life ain't that bad! Bring on fuzzy kitties, a warm and dry house, and Extreme Home Makeover. You really can't feel sorry for yourself when you watch that from under your fleece blanket with a kitty purring like a lawn mower on your lap.

Last night, J and I were both propped up with pillows, blankets and steamy tea in our mugs on the couch, nursing our icky flu bodies, when Duckie sauntered over, jumped up on the couch, and dropped a Kleenex packet on J's legs. He looked up at J and nodded like he was urging J to blow his nose. We laughed and loved him, then put the Kleenex on the coffee table. Duckie ran over, picked up the packet in his mouth and jumped back up on the couch to drop it in J's lap again. That cat is our little golden child. Such a sweetie! He is now busy shredding the junk mail - what is it with this cat?

Holland is obsessed with black licorice ("Drop") and Anise-flavored-pretty-much-everything. They consume more Drop each year than any other country. That's pretty impressive for a country of around 16.4M people. And it's very special for a girl who can't be in the same room with someone eating it. When a baby is born in Holland, the parents invite visitors to come by and see the baby and enjoy "Musijes" - melba toast with butter and pink or blue speckles of Anise sugar. And the love of black licorice in Holland begins. I love babies. I could do without the Anise celebration. Of course, I eat it with great joy when babies are born. And I brush my teeth the minute I get home. Tonight I went to the dentist for my 6-month cleaning, and you know what she cleaned my teeth with? Anise toothpaste. WTF? Whatever happened to the dentist asking me which flavor of floride I wanted? Honestly, the Anise is probably the best tasting floride I've had. That should tell you something about floride.

Have you ever read a 817 page book that you wanted to burn since page 10? I realize that borders on blasphemy, coming from a girl who loves literature. But, for God sake people! Leo Tolstoy had WAY TOO MUCH to say about Anna Karenina. So she had an affair and ruined her - very boring - life. I don't condone it - certainly am not a fan of infidelity. But for the love of Allah, Leo. Your story would have been returned by my creative writing professor with a "Redo" and "Try Tightening Up a Bit" in bright red letters on the front page. I'd put money on it. Surely, there were not editors in those days. My question for myself is, "How did I ever get through 817 pages I didn't like?" I suppose I had too much pride in myself that I wanted to finish a classic. Maybe I was just desperate to read a book in English. Life is too freakin' short. I am celebrating finishing the book by reading my US magazine cover to cover. Trash should fix 'er right up.

Don't Make Me Throw My Ax

"I'm just sittin' here watchin' airplanes..." La la la la... every morning on my way to work, about two corners before my parking lot, I drive under the approaching runway at Schiphol, where planes land. They hover over my car, driving in the country with cows and canals and grass, about 40 feet above, landing gear released, propeller and fan systems roaring and smoking. It's so cool. Every time a plane flies over me, I get all giddy and I become 3 years old, smiling, ooooohing and aaaawing. There's just something about seeing these monsters glide - more like tumble - over me. It's exhilarating.

We are officially in the painful first-time-home-buyer-waiting-and-poker-face-negotiating chapter of our lives. It's so not for me. I am good at negotiating, yanno, a rug at an open-air market or a hair color redo, but Buddha help me, this "oh, how about adding another 40k and we'll make it a deal" thing is for people who get their thrills playing blackjack. I know you might think I am a risk-taker, but not when it comes to money I have to spend every month for the next 10 years. nope. Girlfriend doesn't like to be pushed, poked or prodded when it comes to money. Plain and simple. And it doesn't help that the sellers of the house we want are f-ing crazy. C-R-A-Z-Y. Well, I suppose everything happens for a reason. Fingers crossed and reminding myself to be patient throughout the process. Y'all know how patient I am. :)

Nursing a whopper hang over after a fun last couple of days off playing with J's work buddies. Everyone in the company was invited, along with their partners, to a Friday and Saturday away for fun. We played Scottish Highland games all yesterday afternoon - in kilts - all of us - mmmhmmmm. I can throw an ax 10 yards and make it stick into a wooden dart board - never knew I had that talent - just goes to show, one never knows all the gifts she has until she comes upon such challenges in life... then last night we had a big Cuban dinner (lots of skewered meat and potatoes - this weekend was only for the carnivores in the world), and topped off the evening shaking up glasses of wine and beer in our bellies to a GREAT band who played every rocker and funky Jamiroquai song known to man (and woman). When the CEO was moshing in a pit of his employees at the end of the night, and everyone was sweating from gettin' their groove on, it was officially a kick-ass party. J and Michiel, his good buddy, threw this year's shindig - you boys know how to throw a rager. Yeah, I said rager. I know, I'm so 80's. The night ended for me at about 2 a.m. when I crawled up the stairs of the rental cottage we stayed in and met J's colleague's girlfriend in the hallway where our room doors faced each other. All we could get out was, "I'm dead-exhausted. Going to bed." All I could think as I drifted off to sleep was, "This is gonna hurt tomorrow. Yep." It did, it does, and it will until tomorrow. C'est la vie baby. You play with the bull, you get the horns. Simple math.

We hung out with Astrid, Kobus, Mark, Mom and Gerard today before heading home. Koko the Kobus is the most ADORABLE little man I know. He melts me every time I walk into the room with "Tante Kiki!!!! Aunt Kiki. Ah. If he keeps this up when he can ask for ice-cream or candy, his mom's never gonna let me see him again!

A Little Village Called Heemstede

WTF. Quentin Tarantino is so disturbed. Brilliantly disturbed. But disturbed. I should always prepare myself for his movies, and yet, somehow I walk in with naive expectation that it will be so artistic and unique that I can't possibly think of anything else that might come along with the creativity - and oh, it's always artistic and unique with Quentin, to say the least. I forget just how nauseatingly graphic and politically incorrect and just so freakin' wrong everything is with Quentin from the moment I sit down with my (insert here Dutch equivalent of popcorn at the movies) gummy sours and diet cola. We saw Inglorious Bastards last night. It should be seen, without a doubt. Just be sure you (a) have eaten a good meal a couple hours beforehand, (b) had the pre-op discussion with yourself that gore and filth and rot will roll off your shoulder for the next 3 hours, (c) can appreciate reading subtitles - if you're watching it in a foreign country, those subtitles will be in that country's language - and turn off any foreign language skills you have b/c they will simply confuse you throughout the movie, (d) remind yourself that movie blood is made of sugar and water and food color and even when you hear the "squish!" of a finger digging through someone open wound, it's just clay and water and sugar and food coloring, and (e) you release all preconceived notions you have about history or frightful leadership. If you can keep these things in mind, you're golden. Otherwise, bring a barf bag, sit back and enjoy the ride and don't expect to walk out of the theater feeling like the world is a beautiful place.

Dutch authorities do not take driving infractions lightly. In fact, it's a smidge exaggerated, if you ask me: http://jalopnik.com/5365069/dutch-trucker-receives-45-speeding-tickets-while-parked. Still, I do think breathing Dutch traffic authorities are very fair and the most "customer friendly" police around the world. Sure beats Italian police who stop tourists and site them for jaywalking while ordering a mid-afternoon espresso.

I get to wear jeans to work - even at the all-hands meeting when the CEO came to visit Tuesday. I'm lovin' working with a bunch of smahties. This was the first video I was given to watch for the new employee induction: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QSsNs6LPqT0. For the record, no one around here is wearing ski caps or baggy jeans that start at their knees (they're tight and pegged - this is Europe, yanno). But we do have lunch together in the cafe', Dutch style: everyone breaks for lunch and eats whatever they brought from home or bought at the hot grill and chit-chats about whatever. My first day, I said to J: "What are we going to talk about every day?!?!" He said, "Kristin, you don't have to talk the whole time!" Oh. Okay. That's true.

Just putzin' along with life these days, lovin' every minute of it. Wish I could say we were sleeping more and relaxing at home with the wedding stuff behind us, but Lordy! Now we've found something else to occupy our minds and evenings: we're house hunting. It's so exciting, exhausting, scary, exhilarating, and time-consuming, especially since we're looking in another "state", if you will - altogether different province up past Amsterdam near the coast. With us both working up by Haarlem (not to be confused with the Harlem we all know and love in the U.S.), we decided after the first two weeks of both commuting around 2 hours each way that, hey, it would be a good idea to move closer to work! So, we've been checking out towns, villages, cities - all neighborhoods in that area to see, first of all, where we want to live and then what we can afford. Well, we decided this weekend that we're going to find something in a sweet little town much like where we live now, called "Heemstede". We found our city! Village? Whatever it is - we found it! Now if the nice people at the palace would just sell for a couple hundred Euros... Hmmm... Heemstede ahs it's own sweet little town/center, and it's about a 15 minute bike ride into the city of Haarlem and only about 25-30 mins drive from both of our work places. Hey, that would be nice. So, Tuesday evening we go to see a house in Heemstede. Fingers crossed. I'm excited. Girlfriend's already imagining where to put the red Chinese bureau - I know, I need to calm down and enjoy the process. I am so enjoying it!

The Devil Wears... a Mullet

Geert Wilders is an idiot. He's an elected Chamber Representative in Holland who represents the rednecks, drunks, haters, civil violators of all imaginable types, and sleazeballs who have the Queen Beatrix-given right to pencil in a ballot. You might recognize him in the white robe and hood he likes to wear on the weekends... nice little fire stoked, a couple of crosses... Ohhhhhhhhhh, Geert. You make my skin crawl. Latest shenanigan (and waste of taxpayer Euros): proposed tax: muslim women should pay a a tax to wear their shaylah. Uuuuuhhhhhhhhhhh, why not tax farmers for wearing their wooden shoes? How about taxing women for the extra space they take in the bus for their boobs? Or we could tax Americans for buying Nestle' Tollhouse chocolate chips. Oh, I know: let's tax old people for every year they live longer after 65. Brilliant. Look at him: clearly he seems like a Zen kinduh guy. R.I.H. Geert. But while you're here, get a decent color job on your... gelled... mullet.

Movie Stars, Bacon & Heaven

There are so many beautiful, funny, teary, moving, random and outright goofy things that happened during our wedding week. I just don't even know where to start. And I know I won't do it any justice in words because what happened is truly beyond expression. I married the man of my dreams, with a lot of love in the room, with people we love all around us - and some we love who were missed so very much. Here are some quotes from the wedding week:


"This is the best wedding I've ever been to!"

"You look like a movie star."

"The men in our lives kick ass."

"I am in heaven."

"Why is there so much bacon on my plate?"

"Pick some flowers and put them in your hair."

"I feel like I am going to wake up from this crazy, wonderful dream."

"Can we take a bottle of wine back to the room?"

"This is the best vacation I've ever had!"

"This was exactly what we wanted: a room full of people we love, celebrating our love; dinner to die for; a party where everyone's dancing, laughing, and singing."

"I think you're still on your honeymoon. Call me back when you're done. Well, not when you're DONE... just call me."

There is so much more to tell, but for the moment, we are just kicking back, remembering that amazing day, sighing deeply and feeling very lucky to have so many wonderful people in our lives. Hey, we're married folk! I am officially now Mrs. Q.

Sixteen Sighs of Relief

Ah, Johnny Hughes. You were one of the milestone pop culture drivers of my time. Sigh. Nothing beats the scene in Sixteen Candles when Ginny, the older sister, is jumping like a fairy and trying to catch rice with her tongue after her wedding outside the church (too many muscle relaxers). If rice wasn't a bird killer after weddings, I'd do it sober! That was one of the first times I peed myself just a little bit and cried because I laughed so hard at a scene in a movie. Pretty sure it was because I saw a little piece of myself in her. And don't get me started on Long Duck Dong. Genius! Goooooong!!! (that had to be included for effect - Pavlov's Dog moment for you, wasn't it?)

Mrs. Q kicks butt. She does. She came with me for the 5th time (we counted today) to the wedding dress shop to have my final fitting. She helped me kick some wedding dress owner booty so I didn't have to pay for/take a corset with D cups that made me look like I had little secret pockets under my boobs to hold things. Uh, no thank you. Mrs. Q very nicely helped them understand in her perfect, polite-but-don't-F-with-me Dutch that we would not be needing to buy a corset that smelled of someone else's perfume. I added for effect my practiced Dutch (translation): "I am NOT happy." And that translates "Kristin Clear" in all languages when I say it - I'm pretty sure about that. I apologized to Mrs. Q later that I wasn't very polite with the shop ladies. She patted me on the back and said there was nothing to apologize for. She's such a good mother-in-law. After all the pain of trying on 20+ wedding dresses this year... and trying to talk the shop ladies out of ordering me a big lady size which they today had to cut back to a smaller lady size - they asked "Oh, how much weight did you lose?!?!?" in their fake, astonished southern belle Dutch accents... I said nicely, "Not even close to what you just cut off... about 8 pounds in total (really not impressive)"... don't even THINK you can find justice in ordering me extra material that you tried to make me pay for! (Side note: nothing makes a woman feel fat like a wedding shop telling you that you need to pay 15% more for extra material because your hips curve. Don't make me hurt you! And btw, curves are in!). I have paid for my dress that finally looks b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l, and can now enjoy going in to pick it up with my mom when she arrives on the 19th. Amen! Can I get an amen?!?! Somebody throw me a rice kernel!

Cats, Bugs & Corsets

We never know what we're going to find when we (a) wake up in the morning, (b) come home, or (c) walk out of the room for 22 seconds. We have primal cats who eat anything that smells spicy, garlicky, oniony, or remotely close to a dead mouse. This Sunday it was Mexican. Who can blame them? A nice taco salad always tastes so good when it's hot and there's nothing else to do but tear apart taco shells. They seemed so cute and innocent when we adopted them...

This morning I was so deeply asleep, dreaming, that when J came to give me my morning hug, I thought a bug was crawling on my back. I jumped and screamed in my own syrupy sleep speak, bucking J off my back like he was riding a smokin' bronco. Don't read into that. Nice way to send your sweetie off to work, eh?

We are getting married in 2 weeks! YEAAEAEAEAAEAHHH! So exciting! We both have our final fittings this week for our suit/dress. I'm not wearing a pant suit, just in case that was confusing. People start arriving from all over the world exactly two weeks from today. I cannot WAIT. All the planning is now coming together. And we all know that makes Kristin so happy! Reminding myself that I need to be relaxed and prepared for the little things that don't go the way I wrote them down on my spreadsheet. You can remind me that I said that. Channeling Buddha...

Off to the hotel to check on babysitters for guests and their chillins, then to the wedding accessories store (yep, there is one!) to look at corsets and schtuff. Checkin' it off the list! Oh, let me have my fun!

Domestic Goddess: Louie & the Laundry

It's true: you really do have to wear in your wedding shoes before the Big Day. I wore mine the other day for my first dress fitting, and Giiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirl, after 5 hours of standing there while women buzzed around me with about 150 pins they stuck into my skin, er my dress, my feet were barkin'! So I will be wearing them in my pijamas when making breakfast and laying out on the balcony trying to soak up some rays so I don't have green legs for the wedding. You think I'm joking...

Sitting here at the keyboard, amidst lolly-gagging between the kitchen and hanging laundry in the guest room, listening to the Louis Armstrong mix for the garden toast at the wedding. Takes me back to high school jazz choir... we were so good! We just thought we were makin' music like everyone else. We were Outliers: there was some pattern in our families, our culture, our birth dates... something... because we were so good - beyond the norm of good. It's fun to think about those days - the height of musical Kristin. National jazz festivals... state choirs... lead roles in musicals... something was in the air. It's fun to think about, and listen to that music now, and know it's going to be part of our wedding. Legacy is powerful. It builds gorgeous memories, new and old.

I'm swimming and floating a little bit with work. Not really sure which way is up at the moment. I miss using my brain. I miss being creative. I miss giving something to others from my mind. "... autonomy, complexity, and a connection between effort and reward are, most people agree, the three qualities that work has to have if it to be satisfying." ~ Malcolm Gladwell, Outliers. Not sure what will come next. That doesn't sit nicely with me. I invented planning. It's not fun not planning where I'm going. Yep, I know, ya gotta be flexible with life... this is about as flexible as it gets, baby.

This week, I heard from a third person - a peer from the field, that my Dutch isn't good enough for work. Honestly, it was pretty defeating. I am working my booty off trying to learn this language and use it in my work (whatever that is). No matter how hard I try, no matter how long I speak Dutch with my family at Sunday dinners, or with J while we walked through the forest yesterday, or with the post office lady when I'm sending letters, it's just not enough. I'm knee-deep in Dutch books, CDs, and worksheets for a year now (more so these past three months)... yet, who am I kidding with expecting to walk into a boardroom and deliver a presentation in Dutch to hiring managers? Yeah, felt pretty crappy, between you an me. Last week when I heard that from a potential employer who really wants my skills, but needs me to speak business Dutch, my heart sank. Had a couple of other blows Saturday with my immigration paperwork and my hair colored like a skunk at the salon, and yanno what? I don't feel like being strong or positive at the moment. Oh, yanno, I will. It's in my chemistry. I'll suck it up and march along. But for the record: I'm miffed. Was sad and frustrated. Now I'm just ticked. I've got things to do in my life, people! If you aren't going to contribute to my campaign to live life to the fullest, make money along the way, and look great while doing it, kindly, step aside!

You know I rarely vent, but I've had enough. I don't want to hear anymore "No", "you can't", or "that's not for you." How about a "maybe"? That's all I ask! No one puts Baby in the Corner!

Well, Girlfriend needs an outlet. I started writing. Yep, got my next book going. And THAT I CAN DO. No one can stop me.

Why Does This Make Me Cry?

At first I thought, "No freakin' way! Why would you ruin your wedding like this?!?!" Then I started watching how much fun all the friends were having, the audience, the groom, the bride - damn, they all have rhythm! They had so much fun and what a day they had! I choked myself up at how special their day was. THAT is what your wedding day does to you - it makes you feel so special and loved by all the people in your life. Mkay, I'm gonna stop writing cause it just makes me cry like a baby!

You go on with yo' bad selves! Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-94JhLEiN0

Funny side note: It would be even funnier if it was a wedding in some random farm community in Missouri. All I can think of is Footloose! Help me!

My Superhero

Just saw J off to a day of honest work. It's Friday, so he thought it might be slow, but alas, this was a job for Super J!

I will leave you to decipher how you think J's bachelor party is going to go today. Richard and Michiel just picked J up an hour or so ago to kick his single booty into shape! They thought he would be happiest in his own comfy clothes, so he wore his superhero suit. Nice guys! I think by now J should be flying...

My man, a Superhero. It sounds so glamorous. It's hard work to keep that cape clean! I hope you have so much fun, Super J! Please come home in one piece tonight!

Cats, Bears & Monsters - Same Species?

Nothing - and I mean NOTHING - is sacred or safe in a house where two cats live. Not your quiet little bowl of buttered beans sitting on the counter for 1 minute 20 seconds while you run to answer the phone. No. They're not safe. Not your leather dining room chairs. Not that new pillow that you bought to fluff up the living room just a smidge. Not your string cheese that you pack to take to work. Not your feet when you dangle your innocent toes from the couch. Not the moldings that you nailed between the ceiling and the wall. Not the sealed loaf of bread you left out over night in the kitchen. No. Nothing is safe. The cats rule the house, that's the law. Get used to it. And stop caring about cat hair on the furniture (oh, but I can't!). That what vacuums are for - even if you have to use them 4 days a week. I'm beginning to wonder when I ever had time to work.

Now, Facebook. The thing I love about FB is looking at pictures of other people's friends. Voyeur you say? Maybe. Just a genuine curiosity in humankind, really. I'm not looking for anyone naked or in compromising positions, though if it comes up, I do laugh and move along. Just random stuff mostly, like funny signs people see while on vacation in Alaska... see Carlos' Mexican restaurant photo above. I found this guy on FB today who is a friend of a friend - he took his family to Alaska and Washington for a summer vaca and took a few photos (see photoshopped grizzly bear eating children - I can't help but notice the only kid who's gonna make it is a Red Sox fan - they're so brilliant) and the Space Needle being squeezed by a monster... why do I love this crap? Maybe it's just a Seattle thing... or a Red Sox thing... or a Mexican thing? Whatever it is, Thank Buddha for Facebook. It keeps the unemployed entertained and off the streets. Why do we ever need a police force or homework when there is Facebook?

On unemployment: I like working. I'm not good at sitting idly at home. Sure, it was fun for about 72 hours. I looked at FB, went for bike rides, cooked my lunch vs. packin', and tied ribbons around 100 wedding gifts we're giving to guests. Then what? Oh yeah - look for a job! Have been interviewing for a few weeks - this week being pretty busy (amen). Looks like I am a forerunner for at least 2 jobs, maybe 3. I should have something in the next week or so. Let's hope I'm not jinxing myself by writing that. Work karma - come and get me!

I know, SO WRONG, but it makes J and I laugh our tooties off and it's freakin' great dance music! Disclaimer: what you will hear is not in any way appropriate, innocent, light, airy or digestible in one sitting... you will not be refunded for any illicity offensive shock you may experience. Now, Feed the Horse...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D0CMx7M84KQ

All Aboard! New Blog, New Words of Wisdom. Or BS. Somethin'!

Yahoo 360 degrees kicked everyone off and so here I am. Actually, I am finally in this century with Blogger! Bed now, prose tomorrow. G'night you princes of Maine, you kings of New England... you goddesses of the universe (that really should have been in there in the first place).