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.