Friday, July 17, 2009

One Week

Friday the 24th at 2:00 p.m.

That's when H and I will be introducing ourselves to the reproductive endocrinologist.

What. The. Eff.




See, I had made a tentative appointment with a different practitioner for the very end of August, hoping that there just might be a Hail Mary baby before then. And then, just a minute ago, I got sick of waiting.

I had wanted to discuss this with my primary care doc, to see if she could recommend someone, but then, I decided to research it a little bit, and I found that H's insurance only covers procedures at one certain clinic. So I thought I would check that clinic, to see who their doctors were, so that if my primary care doctor recommended someone, that I could be sure that they were still at this clinic.

And, well, there's only one doc at that clinic.

So it all started to seem a little foolish to wait for a recommendation, when due to insurance, it was going to have to be this one particular doctor anyway. I got sick of waiting.

So I called. And I made an appointment for mid-August. Then I talked to H, who said that the date I picked didn't work, so I called back. And they happened to have an appointment for next Friday. As in one week from today.

No time like the present, eh?

If this is what I've waited so long to do, if this is what I want so badly (the outcome, not the medical part), then why the hell am I shaking like this? It's like it's suddenly so real. After labeling myself as 'infertile' for the last three years, it's like I suddenly AM. I really, REALLY am.

I've been at this for so long, trying and thinking and planning and doing every little thing I could to allow for that slim-chance baby to happen. And with all those years of endless research, I'm probably not the typical "This Is My First IF Appointment" patient (thank you, blogland!). But in so many ways, I am probably even more confused than that typical new patient. I know the possibilities. I know the options for various diagnoses. I know the procedures. And most of all, I know the heartbreak that this whole circus can cause. Part of me is scared like my Love Comes First friend. But part of me is just freaked about what this appointment means for us as a couple. It's like until now, I could recognize that these possibilities existed, but that they existed for other people. As long as I stay safe here in my cocoon of ignorance, I can ignore the truth, which is that this is not (not, not, not) going to happen without help.

So. Today I stepped out of my cocoon. After two years of blogging about infertility, three years of sadness and failure, a lifetime of questions- today marks the day when I claim this as my own.

I am infertile. And I'm finally ready to do something about it.


.......................

What did you take away from your first fertility-related appointment? Anything you would have done differently? What should I be prepared for? Talk me down off this ledge, people- I'm beginning to feel the vertigo...

.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

It's A Process

Interesting. Very, very interesting. I just realized that it seems that the biggest reaction to my Show and Tell post was, "Wow. You lost 60 lbs." And I feel kind of weird about that somehow. Because while I remember it in the back of my head, and while I blogged about it a little bit back when I was keeping a blog on Myspace, by the time I had started this blog, I was past that point (mostly). So I always feel like a little bit of a faker when I talk about losing 60 lbs, because my most recent weight loss journey has been more like a 25 lb loss, and at that, it was actually a "re-loss" of part of that 60 lbs. I don't know. I just don't want to give people the impression that I lost 60 lbs running. The truth is, I lost 25 lbs running, but undoubtedly, running has kept me from adding 60 back on (if that makes any sense).

Since most of you didn't really know me back then, I now present the photo that drove me to start my weight loss process:


This is singlehandedly the WORST photo I have ever seen of myself. It's me at one of the most sad-happy occasions I've ever attended, which is the closing of my beloved coffee shop where I met all of the people who, over the years, have shaped my life the most. I grew up there, going from obnoxious 18 year old, to obnoxious-but-married 29 year old. And this is from the New Year's Eve party that also marked the closing of this most awesome institution. I share the frame with a lovely friend of mine (I'll let her identify herself, if she so chooses), but that's about the only good thing in this shot. Another dear friend of mine was behind the camera, and burned a disc for me of the photos that were taken that night. Upon returning to NC after the holiday, I opened up these photos, eager to see the shots of that night, of all the friends and acquaintances that had gathered there, people that I was missing so much after having moved to NC a few months prior. And this was the second shot in the file (the first being an almost as horrendous shot of me, only better because it was mostly out of focus...). Eeeek.

And the thing is, I was fat when I moved to NC, but I really hadn't realized the effect of having been fired, and having been so far from friends and family, and how incredibly depressed I was, and how I had let that take its toll on my body. I mean, I went from being fat to being FAT (you can see from the picture how incredibly unhealthy I was. Great nails, though...). And this is the picture that showed me that. And the day after seeing that picture, I started a diet and exercise regimen that ultimately took me from 260 lbs, to 200 lbs. And because of some dizziness I was having right after I had started to lose weight, I went to the doctor, where, on a whim, she tested my hormone levels and diagnosed me with PCOS. So really, I have a lot more to thank this picture for. Not only did it prompt weight loss, it resulted in me finally having an explanation for why I look at food and instantly gain 10 lbs.

So yeah. I lost 60 lbs. I did it through severe calorie restriction (1200 or less per day), Yog.a Boo.tie Bal.let, a smidge of running, and a diet drug (Te.nuate) that caused constipation severe enough to create an anal fissure that still won't heal more than three years later. I don't recommend that path. As a matter of fact, part of the reason why I am so stringently anti-diet now is that I know how unrealistic it is for me to stick to a plan that restricts something I love so much (food. cooking. bacon. butter.). And also part of the reason that I am so very cautious with medical intervention in weight loss- I know that it has helped so many people, but after my experience, I just hope that intervention of that sort is a last resort, and not looked at as a miracle-cure, you know? It's no surprise that the second I let up on the rigorous dieting and crazy exercise, I gained 25 lbs. No shock at all. Of course, I am also partially convinced that the reason I only gained 25 instead of the full 60 was due to the influence of me.tformin.

So then, I re-lost 25 lbs., putting me back at around 200. Most days, I'm under 200, but today, I'm a little over that (apparently, I tempted fate by having a root canal- can't eat much, but can't exercise either, so I gain 2 lbs? I'm seriously beginning to think that my body just likes to play little jokes on me...). I average out to 200 lbs. And I lost those 25 lbs by eating reasonably (by which I mean choosing whole foods as often as possible, but also not depriving myself if I feel the need to stand in front of the refrigerator and suck whipped cream from the can into my gaping maw for a few minutes... not that I did this last night. Not that I patted myself on the back for thinking ahead and recognizing whipped cream as an excellent tooth-friendly soft food option...), running regularly, and forcing myself to limit stress in my life (which is much easier to do when combined with the aforementioned eating well/exercise thing). That's my only trick. Run. Eat real food. Repeat. Maybe I'll lose more. Maybe I won't. More would be good, but I think I feel okay with myself right now.

So this is me now (well, me about a month ago):
Kate In The Dungeon

Like I said in the title- it's a process. I'm trying really hard to get away from beating myself up over my weight. I'm trying to keep everything in perspective, and to keep doing the things I love (eating food and running) while still keeping in mind my overall goal to be as healthy as possible. Somedays, I stand in front of the fridge and eat Reddi-Whip (okay. I admit it. I did eat whipped cream for dinner last night.), and some days, I eat homemade whole wheat bread with organic chicken and organic broccoli and organic homegrown tomatoes. Some days I get really into my training, and feel like I can run 10k without a second thought, and somedays, it's a struggle to do 2 miles, and I really want to skip it altogether. But through it all, I just remember that (trite as it sounds) every journey is made up of thousands of tiny steps. Hopefully most of those steps are made in the forward direction, but ultimately, as long as 51% of them are, then I'm moving in the right direction. I try to be patient with myself, and to be happy with whatever progress I make and to not freak out too much when the scale doesn't show what I want it to show.

So yeah.


And now, as I've been mentioning, I like to eat. Through a happy accident (isn't that how the best ones happen?), I developed a new recipe the other day, one that I really have been digging on. As you may know from my past posts, I LOVE pasta/garlic/oil combinations, and I start quite a few recipes this way, adding to or taking from as necessary to suit the ingredients I have on hand.

This is one of my old favorites, perfect for early spring when asparagus is in season, but also pretty good year round with frozen broccoli, or some other sort of vegetable substitute:
Asparagus-Goat Cheese-Lemon pasta (scroll down under the list of ten to find the recipe)

And again, here is another variation that I love:
Pasta con Olio e Aglio (con Limone)- again, scroll down a bit. There's a whole slew of recipes in that post...

So! It's no surprise that I love, love, LOVE shrimp scampi. I wanted to make firecracker shrimp (The Pioneer Woman has a good explanation of the variety of ways one can make firecracker shrimp- I make mine a little differently, but that's a really good basic recipe there), but due to some miscommunication, after two separate trips to the store, I had TWO packages of cooked shrimp (one fresh, one frozen), neither of which could (obviously) soak up a marinade well, being cooked and all (for some reason, the husband cannot manage to buy raw shrimp. I don't know why. I tell him over and over and over again, and he ALWAYS comes home with some version of precooked shrimp. Even if I go to the store with him and hold his hand, he still gets all fidgety and tries to get the cooked ones...).

So, I took the ingredients that I would have used in the marinade and combined them with traditional scampi ingredients and added a few more to boost the Thai factor, and cooked those into a sauce then added the already cooked shrimp. The flavor profile was awesome, but I still think it would be better with shrimp that actually got cooked in the sauce so that they could fully absorb the flavor. Anyhow, here it is:

Thai-Style Shrimp Scampi

1 lb uncooked peeled deveined shrimp (preferably. But if you have a husband like mine, then just add the cooked ones in at the end)
3 Tbsp olive oil
3 cloves garlic, smooshed (I just bash it with the broad side of the knife and remove it before serving, but you could definitely mince it and leave it in)
1 lime, juiced (additional limes for garnish, if desired)
1 lemon, juiced
1 Tbsp Sriracha (vietnamese garlic-pepper hot sauce), or more if you like things spicy
1 tsp sugar
1/4 c white wine (approx.- just splash a few tablespoons in the pan to make a sauce)
1 Tbsp basil, chiffonade-cut
1 Tbsp cilantro
1 green onion, sliced fine
salt to taste

rice (optional. or some sort of thai noodle might be good. or plain old pasta could be fine as well. it's all about the fusion, baby)

Warm the olive oil in a skillet with the garlic cloves over medium-high heat. Add the shrimp to the olive oil, cooking for 1-2 minutes per side*. In a bowl, mix the Sriracha and sugar in with the lime and lemon juice. Pour this in to the pan with the shrimp. Toss to coat. Add the wine, and let it cook for a few minutes to reduce down some (how much will depend on how loose you want the sauce to be, and how much residual alcohol you want in your dish. I go for 2 minutes or so, but I also don't mind the alcohol.). Add the herbs and green onion and toss again. Taste and add salt if needed. Serve over rice (or eat it plain, if that's how you like it) garnished with additional green onion or lime or cilantro or Sriracha, as desired.

*again, if you've got the cooked shrimp, just combine the sauce ingredients, and toss the shrimp in at the end with the herbs to heat them through. You don't want to heat them too long, because overcooked shrimp are just rubbery.

I like this recipe because it takes some of the traditional flavors of Thai food and uses them in place of similar flavors that you might find in a scampi (lime for lemon, basil/cilantro for parsley, Sriracha for red pepper flakes, etc.). Thai food is all about the sweet/sour/salty/spicy all at once, so add to or take from this recipe as your tastes prefer. Add more of this, or skip some of that, substitute this other- whatever you like.

Mmm. Yummy!


So, have any of you found your success in weight loss/maintenance? Any rules you live by to keep yourself healthy? Any methods for getting your head in the right place, for keeping perspective? Any motivation tricks (running-related or otherwise- say, laundry or other chore motivation)??? Got anything to add?

.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Show and Tell (a ring thing)

Looky here! It's my very first Show and Tell post! Every week when I see the Show and Tell go up over at Mel's blog, I think, 'I should do that some day.'

So, 'some day' is apparently today.


Show and Tell


If you're new to the 'Bonnet, then WELCOME. I cuss too much, and I complain a lot, but I'm really a nice person, I promise.

Anyway, again, if you're not one of my regular readers, I just got back from a month-long trip to Germany. My husband is from there, and his father still lives over there, so we went for a visit with the in-laws, and to do some general touring. (If you're new here and you want to read about and see pictures of my travel, click on the June archives and read from June 1 onward...)

So here is what I'm showing today:


This is my semi-engagement ring.

When H and I were dating, and it began to look as though things were getting serious, I told him that I thought he should buy me a ring for Christmas, and that it wouldn't be awful if it happened to be an engagement ring (ahem, pushy? me? no!). I realize how awful that makes me sound (I'm thinking of a Smiths song here, "How can you stay with a fat girl who'll say, Oh, Would you like to marry me, and if you like you can buy the ring, I don't dream about anyone, except myself," but I digress...), but truthfully, if you knew my husband, you'd know that he's the sort of fellow, handsome and dashing though he may be, who needs a little shove occasionally. Again, that makes me sound terrible, but really. He's molasses. Sometimes he needs a little help to get things moving.

Anyway, so this is the ring that he bought me for Christmas, and he gave it to me specifying that it wasn't an engagement ring, but it was not not an engagement ring. So, for several months I wore that ring on the finger where an engagement ring should be, only replacing it when I got the real thing. And I just so happened to get the real thing four years ago this week. I will never forget Bastille Day because it is the day that we got engaged for real*.

For a while, I wore the ring on my right hand ring finger, but sadly, it started to cause a rash (or what I thought was a rash). It made my finger itch horribly, and no amount of cleaning or polishing could fix it. It's weird because it's a ring from a reputable Texas jeweler (James Avery for those that know), and I've never had any problem wearing their sterling silver before. And yeah, it had gotten a little snug, but not that bad.

Well, I just ended up having to put it in the jewelry box and leave it there, because no matter what I did, this ring just killed me.

And then, I lost 60 lbs.

I still didn't try on the ring because it just didn't matter, and I was sure that it was a problem with the jewelry, and not me.

So when we set off to go to Germany this past June, I decided to pull it out of the jewelry box, because in Germany, people wear their wedding rings on their right hand, and I wanted to have a ring to wear on that finger. And I thought that, in case it caused irritation, I could just wear it some of the time, when we went out and such, just so that there would be no question that this was my husband (small hotels especially can be a little iffy if they think that you aren't married, and seeing as we have different last names, I didn't want there to be any reason to call our marital status into question).

Anyhow, as it turned out, either whatever was on the ring causing irritation has died or moved on, OR I've lost enough weight that this ring fits comfortably enough to not pinch into my skin. I'm pretty convinced it's the latter. It feels good to see a real difference in my body, enough that I can feel it in my fingers, you know?

So, I'm finally able to comfortably wear the ring my husband bought me for Christmas 4 1/2 years ago. And so this ring finally served the purpose I'd hoped it would, as my connection to my husband, my partner. The stone in it is a Texas blue topaz, and so it remains my connection to my home, but yet it got to see the world with me last month. Sure, it's a little more banged up from the travel, but I think that makes it even more special.

The ring is just a good symbol of the good things in my life right now:
-my solid roots in Texas
-my loving husband (who actually LETS me push him!)
-my overseas travel (which I hope will become a regular thing)
-my physical well-being

So! What are you showing and telling today? Check out the rest of the class over here.

*someday when I'm not distracted worrying about Wednesday morning's root canal (and not exhausted from additional dental appointments early in the day Tuesday, AND on Monday, too- what a fun week, huh?), I'll share the story of our engagement. It still goes down as one of my favorite days ever.

Ooh, That Hit A (literal) Nerve!

Whew. I'm glad that root canal nonsense is over for now. They had to use not only two syringes of novocaine to numb me, but also SEVEN additional syringes applied directly to the nerve as they exposed it. 'Cause I'm difficult like that. It goes like this: They shoot me up with the needle in the gums, wait 10 minutes, discover that I'm not yet numb, shoot me up again, wait another ten minutes, see that I'm almost 100% numb, try to start working on the tooth, I say "urglugh!!", they stop, put on more numbing medicine, wait a bit, start working again, I say "urglugh!!!" and they stop to put on more medicine, etc., etc., etc. SEVEN TIMES. Yeah. Actually, generally, I'm a really easy numb-er. I don't have these kinds of problems, but even though I was having almost no pain in the tooth prior to this morning's procedure, apparently, the utter unwillingness of the nerve to accept numbing medication indicates that I had some sort of infection affecting the nerve (though there were no other signs of infection).

Anyhow, the point is that it is now 2:00 p.m., and it finally appears that my lip will not be three feet thick forever. Which is nice. I really hate the fat-lip-feeling thing. Makes me crazy. Even though there is feeling returning to my mouth, I'm not so jazzed about the lingering medicine-y taste from the anti-decay chemicals used in the procedure (that will not. go. away.), compounded with the extremely metallic tasting filling on the other side of my mouth- my mouth is just a world of nasty, toxic tastes, and I don't like it ONE LITTLE BIT. The gag reflex is in overdrive right now. It makes this eating thing a real blast.

But, I am now all happy doped up on vic.odin, so I won't say much, except first, I wrote a Show and Tell post last night (my first!) which will be published later this evening, so in the event I don't feel like posting over the next couple of days, there is that little bit to look forward to (GOD, that sounds arrogant. I mean, I like that it seems that there are people who actually enjoy reading about my life, but that anyone would actually anticipate this crap? Hmm. I don't know.). Secondly, to keep you entertained in the meantime, I present one of my most favorite pieces of music (both to listen to and to perform), that also happens to be (in my humble opinion) just about the pinnacle of the Romantic-era melodic theme. It's just a great piece of music.

Here it is, Tchaikovsky's Second movement (Andante Cantabile*) from his Fifth Symphony:


And if you're interested in a more modern take on the theme in that symphony, here's a link to a Chet Baker song called Moon Love off of his My Funny Valentine album. This track only made me love the melody even more:
Chet Baker - Moon Love

Yeah. I'm gonna go sleep now.


*for the non-italian speakers out there and/or non-musician people "andante" is a tempo direction and "cantabile" is a style direction. Often symphonic movements are referred to by their tempo markings, though with standard symphonic form, there is usually a fast movement, a slow movement, a semi-fast 3/4 movement, and a finale (usually fast as well). This is the second movement, thus it's slow. "Andante" in musical markings means "walking", so it would be a medium-slow pace, and "cantabile" means "singing", so this piece would be played very melodically, but with a decent pace so as to not become too bogged down in the lovely, singing melodies.
Thus ends today's music lesson, for those who wanted to know!

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

The Remains of Amsterdam

So. Where were we? Ah, yes...

We arrived in Amsterdam mid-day on the 28th to a swelteringly hot day. We took a $25 cab ride to our hotel (as mentioned previously, the gorgeous Hotel Washington). The kind hotel staff carried our bags up the steepest staircase in the world:
Steepest Staircase Ever

A side note here- apparently, at some point in Amsterdam history, you were taxed according to the amount of footage (meterage, whatever) the building's facade occupied- so if you had ten linear feet across the front of your house, you would pay a rate based on that length. This is supposed to explain why the staircases are so narrow (because the houses are so narrow), thus if your rooms are also built with high ceilings (as they were in the 18-1900s), then your staircase ends up more like a ladder. This one wasn't the worst I saw, but when you got to the top where the staircase turned toward the upper landing, the stairs were no more than a few inches wide at points. Even on the lower steps, the treads were maybe six inches deep. I feel like I've said this all before. Have I? Oh, well. Regardless, it was just one of those quirky things that are common in the houses in Amsterdam, and I thought I'd share it with you.

Anyway, before we went out to see the city, I used the restroom to confirm that the reddish smears on the tissue that I'd seen earlier were, in fact, sweet Aunt Flo, coming all the way to Europe to find me. And I walked out of the restroom and told H that it looked like my period had arrived 4 days early, just in time for me to be crampy and nauseated and even more tired throughout our entire journey in Amsterdam AND for the plane ride home, too. YAY! And I tried to keep it light and focus on the whole "being-on-your-period-SUCKS" thing, but H interrupted me to say, "But you were hoping that you wouldn't get your period at all, right?" Oh, boy. Way to cut to the chase. I mean, even though I knew it was a slim-to-no possibility, there's still the hope that you might end up being the statistical outlier, and as tiny as that hope is, when it gets dashed, it roars just as loudly as a great big authentic hope.

Anyhow, we talked about what this meant for us and how I was feeling and how he was feeling and I could just tell that he was crushed. And I know that part of the reason he was crushed was because he knew that I was crushed and it just started to become this circle of "I-feel-bad-because-you-feel-bad"-- oh, what a mess. And so, I abruptly told him that I was just not going to cry about it right then, because I was in Amsterdam for the first time in my life and only for a few days, and I wanted to clear my head and enjoy myself as much as possible.

And so, we set out, wandered around the city for a bit, and ended up having a very overpriced dinner (as I understand is common in Amsterdam- eating out is expensive in Holland...) at a Tex-Mex place. Yeah, yeah. Who in their right mind eats Tex-Mex in the Netherlands? ME. I was just so interested to see what their take on it would be. And really, it was not terrible, but it was NOT Tex-Mex, not even close. The rice was just plain white rice, the beans were whole kidney beans, and the enchiladas were just-- off, somehow. But! The beer was cold and refreshing and served with a lime:
Tex-Mex By Amsterdam
And clearly they had decent taste in hot sauce as well. Tabasco is the good.

As we were walking, H (who was trying to get his bearings) tried to point out several landmarks to me. We were quite turned around for a little bit there, and H pointed out to me, confidently, that the building ahead of us was the Heineken Experience. 'Big building for a beer museum,' I thought. And, of course, upon getting closer to the building, we discovered that it was actually the Rijksmuseum (the big state museum in Amsterdam). And I ribbed H about it, because yeah- mistaking a major art museum for a beer museum? Kind of funny. This lead to the running joke for the rest of the trip which was either one of us blatantly mislabeling some landmark we saw. Cathedral? Nope, it's a McDonalds. Canal? No, silly- that's the Gulf of Mexico. Statue? No, that's the Van Gogh museum!
Monument
The "Van Gogh Museum", according to H...

Anyhow, like the old farts that we are, we ended up back at the hotel at around 7:00 p.m. We were just so beat. It was the end of the trip, it was hot, and we'd been lugging damn near 300 lbs of luggage around all day. Back in the hotel, we talked a bit more about what this failed cycle meant, and about seeing the RE at the end of the summer. There's nothing set in stone at this point, but I'm really encouraging H to read ALI blogs written by guys because he seems to feel really lost with this whole situation. I forget sometimes that I am a researcher by nature, and that I have this awesome community of people dealing with all kinds of situations- he doesn't. He's not an obsessive fact-finder. He's not the kind of person with twenty friends. He's not shy- he just prefers to talk one-to-one. So, I think he might find some value in reading other people's stories. Anyone have any advice for how they helped their (hypersensitive) husbands come to terms with infertility? I mean, he's a clever dude, but I just know that he's feeling really lost right now, and probably a little scared to take that first step with me. And I want him to feel as ready as possible when we walk in to that RE's office.

European Coca-Cola sucks, BTW. It's just not right without that punch of high-fructose corn syrup. I mean, it's probably much better for you than the American kind, but I consider myself a connoisseur of Coke, and this isn't it. It just doesn't satisfy the craving like the real stuff. God, I'm a total addict.

Also, just another observation- When I went to Scotland and England with my university orchestra back in 2000, I constantly felt like the fatty-fat-blob-o'-lard-tubby-tubberson type. I was probably right around the weight I'm at now (though maybe a bit heavier, but definitely not in as good shape as I am now), but seriously. Everyone around me was so thin. And this was even pointed out to me by a dude from one of the colleges that we played a concert with (Leeds music school, I think...). Anyway, dude says to my friend, a 16 year old Mormon harpist who is away from mommy and daddy for the first time, who, dramatic as she was, had in those short days over there acquired a perfect native accent, who had been gabbing at dude all evening, "Your accent is great, but I would have known that you were American even if I met you on the street because, no offense, you're kind of large." And then he looked toward me as if to say, "See? EVERYONE in America is large." And I acknowledged that he was right, because, yeah. From what I'd seen, I was much larger than the average Scot (or Brit, I guess is what I should say, right?). But then again, judging by the food I ate while over there, if I had stayed much longer, I, too, would have been quite thin.

And so, I don't know if it's just because we were in fairly large cities while over there (which tend to attract a younger, usually thinner, population), or if it's just changed that much in nine years, but I NEVER felt fat while I was in Germany or the Netherlands. Not. At. All. Maybe I'm fitter now. Maybe mainland Europe is vastly different than the British Isles. Maybe the people in Great Britain are vastly thinner than everyone else on that side of the ocean, regardless of trends. The point is that I was all prepared to feel like fatty-fatterson again, and I totally didn't. It was weird. The Germans are not a tiny sort of folk anyhow, but 200 lb me did not feel out of place whatsoever while walking the streets of Nordhorn. And Amsterdam was not much different.

Back to the narrative...

We woke up the next morning (I slept terribly, again.) and set out for the Rijksmuseum (aka the Heineken Experience- ha!). The Rijksmuseum is an enormous museum- E. NOR. MOUS. HUGE. VAST. But, unfortunately, it was largely closed for remodeling. They did have a special exhibit open that was just two small floors of stuff. The exhibit on the bottom floor was focused on the 17-19th century when the Dutch were quite the world power. They had models of ships, and various treasures that had been picked up throughout their conquests, and paintings all having to do with the time in history when the Dutch took center stage in world domination. While it was cool to see some of this stuff, I left that part of the exhibit feeling really, really offended. Because the thing is, the Dutch have a very different history with slavery than we do (they orchestrated the trade, but somehow felt that because they didn't own slaves that they were somehow innocent in this process), and thus, the nation just feels differently about that part of history. And so, as I read description after description, unapologetically describing their role in slave trade, religious conversion, plundering/pillaging the East, and whaling (these just the most memorable among sins...), I just felt sick to my stomach. The entire exhibit was designed to glorify this part of Dutch history, which, yeah. Woohoo for being an economic superpower! Yay for your domination of shipping lines in the past! Look at all this cool shit you stole! But really? You're not talking about just some random killing here or there. You are unapologetically bragging about your role in selling human beings. In setting up a system that has caused pain, misery, torture to countless people, that has resulted in a rift among a country that very well may never be healed. And you're happy? I was just beyond words. Like I said, I understand the difference in our respective countries' histories, but without the Dutch, slavery would NEVER have been prevalent in the US, and so to be so callously flippant about the Dutch role in it, and to be so bald-face as to openly display such idiocy in a STATE art museum? Grr. Just made me mad.

And then, we went upstairs where they had pulled out most of the famous works from the museum's collection, including many, many Rembrandts. And let me tell you. In their description placards for these paintings, if there was some part of an artist's work that was missing from their collection, especially if that work was now in the US, they let you know. You could just tell from reading it that the museum was PISSED when there was some piece of art that they felt belonged to them (by virtue of having been painted by a Dutch person, or by some person who was in the Netherlands when they painted it, or that was at some point handled by a Dutch person, or that was thought of for any amount of time greater than 30 seconds by any Dutch citizen) was in anyone's hands other than theirs. Seriously. It was almost funny. We were viewing a pair of Rembrandt portraits, and apparently, there was originally a third portrait to complete the family. They explained the portraits, who they were, etc., and then abruptly explained that this should be a threesome, but that the third was now in LOS ANGELES. Um, yeah. Bitter much?

Anyhow, I wish there had been more to see there. We saw some great art, but I hadn't realized when we bought our tickets that the exhibit would be so small. And so, after that, we needed to find something to do. We wanted to go to the Van Gogh museum, but we were a little "arted out" for the morning. So instead, we walked over to the Albert Cuyp street where there is a very large street market.
Albert Cuyp Market
The vendors sell everything from clothes, to shoes, to produce and fish, to house goods. There's a little of everything. I found two shirts and a pair of shoes for altogether 10 euro. Not bad at all! Cheap, chintzy (sure!), but also cute. We looked at some restaurants for lunch, and as we had already found, the restaurants are expensive! So we wandered a bit further until we saw a sign for a soup restaurant. It was blazing fucking hot, so why on EARTH would I think a soup restaurant was a good idea??? Well, something about it just looked right, so we decided to check it out.
Soup Restaurant

It turned out to be a really sweet little restaurant with (yes) soup, sandwiches, quiches, etc. After eating heavy food for weeks, I was so excited to see some vegetarian food and some somewhat lighter selections. We had the surliest waiter known to mankind (though actually, he was probably just your standard Dutch level of friendliness- the Amsterdamers are not necessarily a friendly sort of people, even if you speak Dutch), but the food? Oh, the food was out of sight! I had gazpacho (my favorite!), broccoli-goat cheese quiche, and perfect wheat bread. And the best part? All for around 7 euro! Score!

We decided that we HAD to come back the next day for this cheap, tasty lunch. After lunch, we went back to our room and took a nap (old farts! old fart alert!). When we woke up, we realized that we didn't have enough time to devote to the Van Gogh museum, and that it was too hot to take a boat tour. We decided instead to just walk around the city to see what we could find, and to hit a few bookstores that I had seen recommended online. And so, we walked. And walked. And walked. And walked some more. It was only about a mile and a half from our hotel, but with the afternoon sun beating down on us, it felt like a LOT more than it was. We hit three different bookstores. I spent ten euro on a fucking magazine, because I am an idiot. See, I saw the price in pounds on the cover and somehow, my tiny brain thought, 'Oh! Only 3.99 euro!', but in fact, the price to get the magazine from London to Amsterdam was, like, another 5 euro in addition to the base price of the magazine (plus conversion rates, etc.), so yeah. It cost ten effin' euro, and the sales clerk was practically gloating as she rang me up. She smugly said, 'Nine euro ninety nine. (smirk)' So I gave her ten, and she smirked at me again before shutting her register without giving me my penny change. I just rolled my eyes. I mean, it was like she was daring me to get shitty with her over a penny. And I almost did. But then, I thought better of it and just left. But what magazine was this that I had to spend $14 on (with the euro to dollar conversion, that is)? Why, Jamie Magazine, the new project of adorable Mr. Jamie Oliver. I mean, I'm a sucker for food magazines anyhow, but a magazine produced by Mr. Cutie-Pants himself? Oh, yes. Call me a sucker if you want, but what a GREAT buy! I wish we could get it for a reasonable price here in the states. It's a great read, with great recipes and great photography. Sigh.

Anyhow, we then went in to the actual bookstore (the newsstand had a separate entrance), and found hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of books, many of which I was convinced that I could NOT live without! But, like everything, books are expensive over there, especially English-language books (though English-language books are cheaper in the Netherlands than they are in Germany, probably because there are lots of Dutch who speak English, too.), and so I only bought a few. Of course, I had also bought a few at an earlier (less remarkable chain-ish) store. And H bought one or two as well. And so H was lugging three bags of books with us as we walked the streets. We got a tiny bit lost (not lost so much as GAH-WHY-THE-HELL-DON'T-THE-DUTCH-BELIEVE-IN-STREET-SIGNS-I'M-SO-TURNED-AROUND-GAH!!!!), but ended up deciding to go toward the Royal Palace to see the monument in the Dam square in front of it. It was still (and even more, perhaps) blazing effin' hot, and so sitting in the very sun-exposed square with the monument didn't seem like a lot of fun. So we decided to sit at one of the cafes surrounding the square and have a beer. We had our first (what felt like) fleecing there, with two large beers costing FOURTEEN euro. But ultimately, that price was almost worth it because it was while sitting there that I saw this (now-)infamous advertisement:
Weirdest Pedicab Ad Ever
Yeah. Fun.

Anyhow, we then went across the street to an enormous souvenir shop where we bought a bunch of tchotchke crap, further burdening the awesome H. We (again) went back to the hotel to drop our pile of stuff off, and then set out to find dinner, ending up at a substandard Turkish place. H really wanted to eat Indonesian food while we were there, but we couldn't find a place that was open in the area where we were. So, sad Turkish dinner, followed by beer at a corner cafe (where I was laughed at by a group of snotty twadults in knockoff clothes because, as H said he overheard, I was speaking American english... um, really? Don't get me started, sister.)

It got to be really confusing at points, because the sun sets really late there, and so, you're having a beer in the evening by the canal, and the sun is starting to set, but it's still totally light outside, but you look at your watch and it's, like, 9:45 p.m. Very disorienting, even after being in it for a month.

So the next morning, we went to the Van Gogh museum. Even though we were there just before the museum opened (on a Tuesday), we were two among a MASSIVE crowd. But we made our way inside and spent most of the morning browsing the incredible collection of art housed at this museum. And again, notably absent was Starry Night, which they were quick to tell you SHOULD be here, but alas, is not. It is SOMEWHERE ELSE. Some OTHER PERSON owns this DUTCH TREASURE. Yeah. Not bitter at all.

Though I love Van Gogh, my favorite part of the museum was a large collection of etchings/lithographs by Odilon Redon. I have become obsessed with finding prints or a book or some sort of display of these works of his, because there were maybe 3 postcards of his work to choose from in the museum store, none of which were the etchings. I have found plenty of prints of his work in color, but none of these gorgeous black and white renderings.

Anyhow, we spent the morning there, then hit the museum store for more souvenirs and then started looking for lunch. I decided that even though it was delicious, I didn't want to walk back to the soup restaurant where we had gone the previous day. After a long walk searching for a place recommended to us by the museum store clerk, we ended up having a sandwich from one of the stands on the Museumplein (the plaza bordered by the Van Gogh and the Rijksmuseum). Again, unremarkable, except that I broke down and had an ice cream after lunch from the same stand, and I may NEVER think of ice cream the same way again. Delicious, perfect, custardy soft-serve in a crispy cone. Yum! After lunch, we went to the Vondelpark, a large park in central Amsterdam. It's kind of like Central Park, I suppose (though certainly smaller), with people just wandering about on breaks from work, with a canal running through, and nice wide bike paths and big gorgeous old trees. Very pretty indeed:
Vondelpark

I think we went to nap again after that (it was just SO. DAMN. HOT.), but then, in the afternoon, we met up with the lovely Rachel and JD and Fusspot. We had several beers (why is it that beer #4 always seems like such a good idea after beer #3?? At least they were the smaller 0,3 size beers... or were they 0,5? It's a bad sign that I don't remember). The irony was not lost on me that as a pair of infertile couples sat drinking beer, a stork decided to drop by to visit us:
Heron
(on the blue "P" sign)
Oh, it was just so nice to be able to speak infertility with someone. I mean, as long as we've been trying (and thinking, and pondering and fussing, etc.), we're still newbies. But yet, I know far more than I should about various ARTs, considering I haven't really participated in any. The point is, it was nice to talk to someone who just *got it*. I mean, I know that we all see this in the scope of blogging, of posting and commenting and getting support in this way. But it's a whole different thing to be able to speak to someone in person, to see the result of those technologies banging her toy against the table, grabbing for Rachel's water glass. Before I get all gushy and weird (well, weirdER, that is...), it's just nice to talk with someone where I don't feel like I have to explain myself or guard my comments.
Edited to add: AND, this is why I am SO EXCITED about August's NC blogger meetup! If you are in the area on August 1st, you should check out the group page and come meet some of your fellow IFers! And if you don't live in the area but you want to come, I have an extra bedroom or two that could host someone, since we're meeting up at JJ's place, which is in the next town over from me...). And I'm convinced this is a lucky group, too. Since we last met up, of the six who were there, FIVE have become parents! Talk about some great odds!
Ahem. Yes, I like to meet fellow IFers in person...

And also, just one more example of "GOOD-GOD-THIS-WORLD-IS-SMALL!", the summer that I met H, he left for a month to go to the Netherlands to study the Dutch language through this program put on by the Dutch government. He was going to be teaching Dutch in the fall at UT, and even though he knew a lot of Dutch (having grown up on the border to the Netherlands), he needed to brush up a bit, which he did during this month-long study. Well, it turns out that a year or two after H went there, Rachel went there, too! They only accept a fairly small number of people from all over the world to participate in this program each year, so it was just really interesting that there was that random connection of two people that attended the same program. Maybe it's really not so random that two people who both had an academic interest in Dutch ended up attending an academic Dutch program, but still. To find yourself sitting across from one of them, one who you made a connection with through infertility blogging- well, I'm just going to call that one rare.

And so, we dashed from beers with the Long Distance Infertility family to our evening canal boat tour. The tour left at 9 p.m., and returned at 10:30 p.m., so we spent a good long time floating around on the canals and out in to the harbor. I almost wish we had done this tour on our first night there, because I learned a lot about the city and it would have been nice to have had that knowledge at the start. Amsterdam is a lot of things, but my most fond impression of the city is that it is a very pretty city.
Seven Bridges
Seven bridges.

Facade in Amsterdam
Pretty facades on the buildings.

Sunset on the Harbor
Sunset on the harbor.

And so, we stumbled back to the hotel, stopping to take a few last shots of this beautiful city:
Streetcar tracks
Tracks by the museums.


The next morning, we rose early, finished packing the last of our stuff, and went to wait for the taxi (who showed up 30 minutes late, and then proceeded to drop us off at the wrong terminal...). It was a hectic morning, scrambling with the luggage, and scrambling to the ticket counter, and scrambling to the gate (did you know that at Schipol they don't send you through security check until you are boarding the plane? So you go to the gate to wait for your flight, and then they scan your bags. And they interview you-- 'are these your bags?', 'do you have any battery-operated devices with you?', 'are you going to perform any act of terror while on the plane?', etc. Interesting.), and then getting ourselves onto the plane. And then, if you land an international flight in a city that is not your destination, you have to go through the Transfer customs area, where you walk through with your form, then pick up your bags from a separate baggage carousel, then walk them past the customs agent, then put them back in the baggage belt thingy. Again, other people probably know this sort of thing, but since my last international flight was Heathrow to Houston, I didn't have any weird customs situation- we just walked through with our bags after collecting them from the normal carousel.

Anyway, so we rushed through Dulles, trying to get to our next gate after having dealt with customs. It's so great that we rushed because as it turned out, our flight had a TWO HOUR DELAY! Yay! And so we ate dinner (Five Guys burger. God Bless America! Though it would have been better with an ice-cold German beer from the tap. Sigh. You can't have it all...), then settled in at our gate, just in time for them to announce a gate change. So we changed gates and settled in there. Only to be told that our departure time had been moved up and we needed to hurry back to the original gate (which we did). And we were then informed that, NO, we weren't going to be leaving that soon, that it was actually going to be 8:00 p.m. before we departed. So we settled in further, only to be interrupted again to be told that we were switching back to the other gate. Which we did. And then, (you guessed it) we were ONCE AGAIN told to go back to the second gate to get a plane there. I had just sat down when an airline worker said, "boarding ALL ROWS to Greensboro." And I was all, HUH? because it was still six something, and I thought we still had a couple of hours. So she hurries us on board, though half of the passengers were still at the other gate. Anyhow, eventually, they got us all on the plane, began to taxi, when there was some sort of electrical malfunction of the plane. So we pulled back in the gate. Half an hour later, they got the plane started again, just in time to be told that due to major storms to the south of us, all traffic departing southward would be delayed. And so we sat there on the tarmac, waiting, waiting, waiting. And finally, at 8:00 p.m. (YES, we sat in the plane for that long!), we took off. The delay sucked. I mean SUCKED. We were still on Amsterdam time, which means that it was, like, 2 a.m. to us when we took off. Which means that we landed at 3 a.m., got home at almost 4 a.m., after having an extremely unnecessarily stressful day of travel.

Of course, the delay was (in part) worth it because I managed to be in the right seat to get some AWESOME out-the-window sunset shots (which you've seen before, in this post, but here is another for you anyway...):
Rainbow sky
So lovely.
There are a couple more at my flickr page.

So, the awesome Ms. J from Asheville rode over to pick us up (THAT is friendship, people. Driving almost three hours to pick me up from the airport, sitting there for three hours waiting for the delayed flight to arrive? I am so lucky.). It was so good to see her and so great to get a chance to catch up for a little bit. I definitely have to go visit her soon.

Anyhow, and so ends the saga of the Germany (and Netherlands, too!) Tour 2009.


Barring tragedy (which, due to a root canal I get to have performed on me tomorrow morning, isn't an impossibility) I hope to resume regularly scheduled posting soon. I've got some ideas in the works for some things I want to talk about (like what blogs we all read with regularity- I'm always so excited to find out that one of my readers also reads someone else that I read, and I'd love to know how our various must-read lists crossover, you know? but that is or another post. I also need to post about a delicious thai-style shrimp scampi I came up with the other night- so, so, so good. And a few other things.), but I also had some other dental work done this morning (just a filling today, but a metal filling, so my mouth tastes like aluminum foil. It was too big to be a resin/epoxy/whatever-its-called-tooth-colored-stuff, so I get the metal. Ick.), so I think I'm done for now.

I keep going along all normal, and then I suddenly feel all sad that I'm not over there anymore. The actual physical part of travel was so stressful for me, but now I keep being randomly reminded of some thing that happened while over there, or of some landmark we saw or some trip we took, and I get plunged into heartsickness. I miss it. I really, really miss it. I know that it would be a huge adjustment, but I could seriously see myself living there. And I know I would miss the US (and shoot, even part of me would miss NC, what with our mountains and our bears*...), but I think I could see myself being happy being over there. My German still sucks, but it grew by leaps and bounds during that short month we were there. Anyway, I just hope we get the chance to go back there soon.

Anyway. So that's it for now. Summary:
The last leg of the travel, Amsterdam-style. Anyone know tricks for dealing with the husband half of the newbie infertile? Pretty pictures. Crazy flights. Mouth under attack this week! And oh, how I miss Germany.

Sigh. And you?

*Oh, sad. I just saw the report that they killed one of the bears. Of course, this happened around three miles from our house. And H went out this morning and found that our garbage had not only been knocked over, but the bag had been absolutely ripped to shreds, much different from the usual damage done by raccoons... sad that a bear lost it's life, but scary that there was likely a bear (A BEAR!) rooting through our trash, about six feet below the window under which we sleep and neither of us heard a thing. Weird stuff...

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Hello, friends in blogland!

Yes, you over there. My blogtastic friends!

I just wanted to let you know that I had no intention of being all tricky-like and (still) not posting the final trip leg stories. I got distracted on Friday and didn't get around to posting, and then today was lovely husband's birthday (oh, I am the shittiest wife EVER. I got my husband a houseplant for his birthday, because I am all broke and stuff. I mean, I cooked dinner, and also picked up surprise cupcakes* and candles and a card and whatnot, but still. I feel awful that he had such a paltry showing on the gift table...).

So I will be back soon, maybe tomorrow, but for now, I have to go finish digesting my awesome grilled steak and baked potato and fruit salad and cupcake (and maybe eat another cupcake).

OH. And I saw Brüno. The reviews I've read have been spot-on. Good, but not great, at (brief) points it was a bit (just a tiny bit!) too vulgar for my liking (the sex, not the humor), but a good way to spend a humid Saturday afternoon, none the less.

So yes, peeps. Hang in there (I know you're all waiting with bated breath...).


*let's be honest, though. those cupcakes were as much for me as they were for him. Actually, probably MORE for me than him, if we're going for full disclosure.

Friday, July 10, 2009

Fresh Start

Oh, yes. How many fresh starts have I made in life? I am the eternal optimist, forever hoping that this next turn I take will be the one that turns into my dream life.

I left home at 17 to go away to school in California, and had an awesome new beginning there. I could be who I wanted without the baggage of those people who had known me since I was a child. But it turns out, I missed home. So I moved back, and started on my life as a newly independent teenager, finding out what it was like to live on $6 an hour (hard) and what it was like to be free from parental confines (easy).

Each new job is the chance to start over again, to be something new, to be the model employee, to find my niche. Each new degree path I've started has been in pursuit of that career that is going to truly fulfill me. I probably didn't pick the best time to quit my job to take yet another new start at a degree (how was I to know that two weeks after I left that the world economy would begin to crumble???). Ultimately, though, that last "fresh start" has landed me in a whole new place, freshly degreed, and freshly confused about where I will ever land.

As infertile women, as much as we complain about it, each cycle is a fresh start. At the very least, each appearance of our period, while at times devastating, is a chance to renew hope that our bodies, that our science, that our hopes will work and we will add to our family. Each CD1 is a chance, even if it's a chance we would gladly go without if it meant that it had just... worked.

I was asked to review Carefree Ultra Protection pantiliners, and I gladly agreed, for three reasons.

1. I am new to this whole outside-the-vagina-menstrual management thing. I've always been a strictly tampon kind of girl, until recently, when, due to the whole Deathstar-flare-up thing, I needed to NOT do the whole inside-the-vagina thing. It's been tricky, and I am happy to have an excuse to try a new product. Besides, tampons (no matter how awesome) always leak, and while I'm a clever girl, I somehow never connected the whole "occasional leak might be not so tragic if you happened to be wearing a pantiliner" thing. Yeah. Clever, I am, but not so wise, sometimes.

2. "Have a happy period." Who the heck comes up with this type of advertisement??? So, yeah. I was glad to try out the competition, since reading that on the back of an Always pad really irks me. Infertile = periods not being happy, regardless of whether the pad tells me they should be...

3. Carefree is offering an AWESOME contest, whereby contestants can enter to win $10,000 to make a fresh start of their own, be it through their career, their lifestyle, their relationships, etc. I am all about spreading the word for people to be able to find a way to fund whatever change they want to make. I hate the idea that often we are limited by money when it comes to trying to better ourselves, and this contest seeks to remedy that for one lucky winner (though I think there are two other smaller prizes, too)

So. Here is my review, in response to each of my three reasons for agreeing to promote this product.

Firstly, about a year ago, when I tried pads for the first time in my life (yes, I used tampons from my very first period. I am 30-grble-something years old and have never used a pad until recently), I walked on to the feminine product aisle and just stared blankly at the rows of pastel boxes. I ended up with a box of store-brand pantiliners, to be used as back-up for the tampons. They did the trick, but were a little too skinny and kind of crinkly. So, I went back the next month, and again, stared like a moron at all the boxes, and ended up coming home with a package of brand-name overnight-style pads, thinking that if the others were too small, this would be the right thing, and maybe I could say 'goodbye' to tampons altogether. Um. Not so much. Good GOD are those things uncomfortable. Huge! Lumpy! All covered in this funky "breathable" (hah) plastic stuff. No thank you. So I AGAIN went back to the store, bought something middle-of-the-road sizewise, but again, I encountered the whole weird-plastic-coating, crinkly, uncomfortable kind of thing.

I can't say that from past experience I was expecting too much from these pantiliners, but I honestly was surprised (and you know that I wouldn't hesitate in a minute to tell you honestly if this product sucked. I'm nothing if not brutally honest about my disappointments, right?). I used them for the last two days of my last period (which are lighter than other days, but I think this pad could have handled more), and I swear to you that I did. not. notice. I mean, had it been earlier in the cycle, the cramps might have reminded me, but for those last two days, I had no idea that there was anything between me and my underwear, and no idea that there was anything coming out of me. (Sorry- I know that's gross and weird. Who really wants to talk about their period in such detail? But for you, my devoted readers, I sit here blushfaced, talking about the various details of my response to products designed to take care of things we'd all rather not talk about. Oh, the things I do for you.) Anyhow, my point is that were it not for the evidence in my drawers when I used the restroom, I would not know that I was on my period. And that's AWESOME.

These things are soft, and flexible, and comfortable and all the things that other pantiliners claim to be, the difference being that these actually ARE.

Secondly, NO. OBNOXIOUS. ADVERTISING! No trite reminders that periods are FUN! (Did anyone actually fall for that?) Thank you, Carefree, for not laying on the BS. Love it.

Thirdly, I keep thinking of what I want to say when I enter their contest. I am in such a flux phase in my life. EVERYTHING is a fresh new start for me. And I have to think that other people would be interested in entering as well. I mean, if anything, the infertile community is in desperate need of a fresh start- each and every one of us. I know that for us, family building decisions are ruled by the pocketbook. And I know that because of that, other life decisions are ruled by the lack of ability to make a family the old-fashioned way. Wouldn't it be nice to be able to take whatever turn your life should take without regard to finances (or at least to have a $10,000 boost in that direction)? How can I not spread the word about this?


So yeah. I know. This is a blatant advertisement for a product, and I know that makes some people uncomfortable, but please know that I wouldn't hesitate to have declined to review this product had I not thought that I could be somewhat fair about it (and probably would have even declined had it not been a product that I, personally, would prefer to use over others). I'm feeling the economic pinch as much as you are, and while I did get free product in exchange for doing so, the fact is that YOU can get free product too, if you click on the link to the Carefree site. So it's not like I was bribed in some seedy dark alley to place this product here in exchange for gold, gold! Glorious GOLD!, you know? At the very least, even if you don't believe my review, click on the link and get your own sample and decide for yourself whether this product is right for you. And while you're at it, enter for a chance to win some money.

And while you're at it, drop me a comment to tell me what you've done in your life to make a new go at something. Anyone?

.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Souvenirs (both literal and non)

She lives!

Yes, I know. It's been a while since I promised to finish the recap of the last few days of our trip. I need to do it soon, lest I forget all the fabulous details. It's weird. In some ways, it feels like I was in Amsterdam a YEAR ago, but in other ways... actually, there are no other ways. Logically, my brain knows that I barely stepped off a plane one week ago, but every cell of my being is screaming that I have been home for weeks and weeks, that Europe was a dream, that it was this other place that doesn't really exist, or that it only exists in some strange pseudo-parallel dimension found in Pullman novels. Surreal, perhaps, is the right word for it.

But before I get to that, what have I been doing in the mean time?

Firstly, I've been showing up for appointments that were CANCELLED, because my doctor needs some vacation. Believe me, I do not begrudge that woman some time off- she needs it. But it was an appointment for my annual, and though I dread those appointments (what with all the wrenching and scraping and smooshing), this time, I had some questions that I really needed to ask, some urgent to-dos, etc. and being that my doctor is wicked popular, the soonest they could reschedule my physical was OCTOBER. Fucking OCTOBER. So I broke down in tears standing at the counter at the doctor's office, until the woman says, "were you already scheduled for an appointment?" (they only take in-person appointments at the downstairs counter and my doc is upstairs, so I wasn't talking to the same person that had told me that my appointment was cancelled). So I explain the situation, and she asks whether or not I called the appropriate number to reschedule. And I ask what the hell she's talking about.

And the long and short of it is that they called TWO WEEKS AGO to let me know and to reschedule, and left a message on my home phone. And (those that are feeling their shitty house-sitter alarm going off are on the right track) GUESS WHAT? I didn't get the message! So naturally, by the time I show up on the day of, she's booked solid with the people who have (of course) gotten their messages and called to reschedule like normal people. I asked the house-sitter about it, and she says that she "played and stopped" each message because the answering machine beeps when there are messages and she wanted to stop the beeping. And yeah, I know, it could have been accidental that she deleted instead of stopping the messages, but frankly, if you do not know how to work my fucking answering machine, you should not touch it.

It's like I should have explained to her what house-sitting is. You may be living here, but you are not a renter. Nor are you a guest. This is not your house to do with as you please, and I am not your servant. You are being asked to do a job (take care of the basic maintenance of a house while the owners are away) in exchange for having a rent-free/utility-free place to stay for a month. The computer is not yours to reset to your liking. The furniture is not yours to rearrange. The dishes are not yours to use and then put into the cabinet DIRTY (I mean, use them all you want, but please WASH THEM. Gross.). Even if the answering machine is bothering you by beeping, the appropriate response is not to ham-fistedly delete my messages- stay out of the room where the answering machine is located. Close the door. Or, listen to the messages and take notes! Or learn what the buttons are before you spend a month randomly pressing them. I mean, you figured out how to get in to my account on the computer (when I KNOW I logged myself out before leaving)- can you not figure out how to search for a user manual to an answering machine?

Sigh. After explaining to the office worker the necessity for my annual appointment being sooner rather than later, they squeezed me in at the end of this month at SEVEN FUCKING THIRTY in the morning, on a day when I may or may not be on my period. Who knows? The only thing I know for sure is that I will NEVER, EVER ask another twenty year old college student to house sit for me again, no matter how sweet she is. I am so tired of discovering whatever new thing she has or hasn't done that has left a mess of some sort in my house (or in this case, my life).


But anyway.

So other than cleaning up shitty house-sitter issues, why on earth have I not just gone ahead and posted the remaining trip narrative (does anyone even still care at this point?)? Well.


Oh, yes. It's true.

I got sucked in. (Hah... "sucked" in to a vampire series...) And yes, it sucks as bad as everyone says it does. The writing is total shit. The characters all have serious personality disorders, ranging from narcissism to co-dependency to self-loathing manifest in a desire to martyr oneself. The overuse of the words "glower" and "dashed" and "forever" makes you feel as though Ms. Meyer was seriously at the end of her vocabulary rope, grasping for ways to describe an unfriendly stare or a quick-paced movement. And her word-order choices make me wonder whether she was being edited by a third-grader.

BUT, despite it all, the story is really compelling. Like really, really compelling. Like I read Twilight while over in Germany, and was pissed that I couldn't get the subsequent books over there (in English, at least), and then came home and bought the second book, convinced that I could pace myself and wait to buy three and four next month, but ended up picking up the third at Target the next night (they didn't have the fourth) and then going to two different bookstores to find the fourth on the next night. I have been in a Twilight-induced reading coma for the last several days. But, I finished the 4th book yesterday, and I understand that I now get a reprieve for at least a few months, possibly forever.

I get like that sometimes when reading books. I read voraciously- I consume words, noisily slurping them through my teeth, gulping them down- and when I get in that mindset, I almost cease to exist. I cannot be disturbed. I am trance-like, glaze-eyed, and very protective of my time.

Thus, if you are upset by the lack of my own storytelling over here on this blog, you can just blame Ms. Meyer.

What else have I been doing? Honestly, not much. I read 1,942 pages over the last three days. Doesn't leave much time for anything else. But I've also been spending a lot of time with this:

Wash the laundry, dry the laundry, fold the laundry, repeat. Clothes are enough after a long trip, but then, oh, the sheets, and towels and dishrags! 'Cos my house-sitter (of all the things she didn't do) decided to wash towels, but apparently doesn't know that if you wash the towels in hot water and then leave them in a warm washing machine in a warm room for days and days before drying them, then they sour and they smell nasty, even after you dry them. And then they transfer that smell to the user and to the room in which they are hung. And (if prior posts haven't clued you in) I HATE the smell of sour laundry. It's just... ICK.


And then, of course, there's the sorting and arranging of all the miscellaneous stuff we brought back.


1. Remember when I said I had bought two etchings? These are them. We'll be waiting till next month to have them framed, 'cos we want to do something special with them, and that costs money, and money doesn't grow on trees, as I all too well know right now.
Speaking of, I think I may be broken (I already know that I'm broke- hah. Oh, I crack myself up...), because the thought of going out to look for a job right now is terrifying me, and not just because of the staggering state of the current job market. I really, really don't want to work. And H is kindly not forcing me to do so. But I really like being able to buy the occasional thing for myself, and I don't like stressing my husband out by forcing him to be the only breadwinner, but the thought of going in to the office for a 9 to 5 job is causing ripples of nausea to crash over me when I think about it. And while a part-time job would be great, we share a car, so practically, that's not the best solution, not to mention that lots of part-time gigs require evening/weekend work, which I really don't want to do, because I would never see my husband again. So. I sit here, broke, feeling pretty useless, feeling like I should just get over myself. I have incredibly marketable job skills, a lengthy working history to back it up, and now, I've got the pretty, pretty diploma on my wall. What's to stop me from taking over the world? Ah, only the fact that I really, really don't want to. And for right now, I don't have to either.
And so, the art sits unframed, even though, of all the things we brought back, this is the one I'm most eager to see put into play.
Ahem.
2. A double-sided multi-textured grippy nail brush. I'm (occasionally) a little neurotic about hand washing. And I love that this has two different textures of bristles- one that gets under the nails and deep into all the grooves, and another that is gentle enough to use on the whole hand. I just hate having weird gunk under my nails. And this brush remedies that nicely. And it was only .99 euro.
3. Tiny chocolates! Oh, how I love the RitterSport! Delicious chocolate. Delicious flavors. Tiny, single-serve packing, so that I don't end up eating "just one more square", and suddenly discovering that I've just eaten a thousand calories worth of chocolate. Which I NEVER do. I'm just saying.
4. Citron-flavored-dark-chocolate-covered marzipan. Oh. I used to hate marzipan. As a rule, generally, I still do. I now make two exceptions- RitterSport marzipan chocolates (cover *anything* in perfect dark chocolate, and I'll probably adore it), and marzipan made by THESE people. Niederegger marzipan is the SHIT. It is renowned around Germany, and we visited the flagship store in Lübeck, where we picked up all manner of marzipan treats. This citron bar is one of them. Yum.
5. RitterSport Knusperflake bars and Karamelnuss bars ("crispy flake" and "caramel nut"). Giant size. These may or may not have become victims of the whole "just one more square" thing, had such a thing ever been a factor in my life. Not that it has. I know. Cornflakes and chocolate seem weird, but just think of it like crispy rice in a chocolate bar. It is quite delicious.
6. Cute ceramic bowls, picked up at a home goods store near the Hackescher Markt in Berlin. It was raining really hard when we bought them, I remember. We also bought some bread baskets at that store- the thin reedy wicker kind- that I swear I haven't found in a home goods store in, like, a hundred years. I don't know how they didn't make it in to this picture, except that H was unpacking stuff as well, and some of it may have already been sorted when I took this photo. But anyway, I was asked why on earth we brought back bread baskets from Germany, and it is because I haven't found the simple thin wicker bread basket style bowls in a store EVER, and so when I saw them for .99 euro, I bought three.
7. My new favorite mug, from the Van Gogh (which is actually pronounced sort of like fahn Hohgch. sort of. But basically nothing at all like we English speakers say it, which is more like "van go") museum. While I like the print on it (its one of his cherry blossom paintings), I like it more because it is the perfect thin ceramic- very pleasing to drink out of, for me.
8. A bottle with locking-hinge-ceramic-stopper-with-rubber-flange thingy. Anyone know what those are called? I don't. Anyway, it's another item we picked up at that home store near the Hackescher Markt. Silly me, I thought we planned to use it, but no. H has declared it to be ornamental in nature. Oooh-kay. (Actually, he's the one that wanted to buy it in the first place, so it's totally up to him how he would prefer it to be used. I just pictured it as an excellent salad-dressing-making/serving bottle. But it's all good. Whatever Sugarplum wants, Sugarplum gets...)
9. A tea-towel with a Delft-tile-work-esque pattern on it. Bought at an enormous souvenir store next to the Royal Palace in Amsterdam (same place I saw the infamous pedicab...).
10. Cheap turquoise beads found at the Albert Cuyp market in Amsterdam. Cute, great color and CHEAP. My favorite kind of jewelry. (Actually, that's a lie. I like the pricey kind of sparkle better. But if I'm not looking for higher quality materials, I prefer the kind of jewelry that I don't care much about breaking, etc.)
11. A tiny puzzle with a German kitchen-themed rhyme on it (Backe, Backe Kuchen). So, so sweet!
We bought this in the early part of our trip, at an awesome toy store in Lübeck, called Paulina's. It's just past the north gate entrance to the city center. We could have bought thousands of things there, but we tempered ourselves, knowing that two grown (childless) people can only buy so many things intended for (non-existent) children without garnering strange looks from family and friends...
Sigh. Did you remember today how much infertility sucks? Can that serve as today's reminder?
12. The amber necklace, purchased in Travemünde on the Baltic Sea.
13. Chocolate covered candied ginger. Already gone. Oh, GOD, was it good! Another treat from Niedereggers (though clearly, no marzipan was involved in this delicious confection).
14. A candle thingy. I'll have to light it to be able to show it in all it's glory, but it's basically a piece of metal intricately cut with the skyline of Lübeck, which you arrange so that when the candle is lit, it casts a shadow that looks remarkably like the actual city. Pretty. Purchased (duh) in Lübeck.
15. The Cow That Fell In The Canal, a book about (*gasp! spoiler alert!*) a cow that falls in the canal. Hendrika is sick of being a stay-at-home cow, so she leaps at the chance to take a day off and see the big city! Hilarity (and a new hat) ensues!
16. A painted ceramic christmas tree ornament.
17. Weissbrot-shaped (bread loaf, basically) marzipan. Oh, so good! And also, gone already...
18. Magnet of Lubeck, and (under the marzipan) Berlin magnet that says, "Berlin, Berlin, We're Going to Berlin!" (in German, of course). I thought it was funny. H thought it was stupid. But I won that one...
19. Oh, the tiles. With the blue and the white. Yeah, we have quite the collection of Delft-ware style tiles on our kitchen wall. This one adds to the collection.
20. Oh, GOD. The GUMMIS!!! Oh, how I miss the array of gummis. These are some of my favorites- Fruity-Bussi (berry shaped gummis with foam sugar gummi on the bottom, and a fruit-flavored goo filling.), Bumix (foam sugar gummi shaped animals), Süsse Maus (mouse-shaped foam sugar gummis).
21. Crank music box that plays Clair de Lune. Purchased at another awesome toy store in Amsterdam. Lest you think I am a total weirdo (or perhaps to explain my brand of Weirdo), I have ALWAYS been a sucker for funky toy stores, beginning with my adoration of Terra Toys, which used to be around the corner from my mom's office when she (and it) were still on South Congress, before the area (sort-of) re-gentrified/got rediscovered by all the dirty scumbag dot-com-inonares looking for a "cool" place to hang out/got renamed fucking SoCo and all the cool funky stores that made it such a cool funky place got priced out of existence... Anyhow, Terra Toys was my favorite store in the world, until I discovered Atomic City (which was at the same time that I discovered the Cure and The Smiths and Doc Martens). Even then, it still held a place in my heart. And then, of course, Toy Joy, which is still in existence, at least for a while, until the rent hikes reach the north end of the Drag... sigh. I miss the old Austin...
22. Requisite White-Oval-With-Black-Boldface-Country-Abbreviation-On. Why we got one for Holland when we spent far more time in Germany is beyond me, but whatever. It's on the car now, the first actual sticky bumper sticker ever to adorn my car in it's 5 year existence. (I've had the stupid college parking permits- for me and H-, and I have a magnet decal thingy, but I've never put any bumper stickers on the car). Speaking of 5 year existence, in August, my car is PAID OFF!!!! WOO-HOO!!!! It sounds stupid, but this was the first long-term financial "relationship" that I'd ever set forth, at least with 100% my own money. I am proud and happy that I bought this car new (though actually semi-used because it had 2 owners before me, even though it was less than a year old- long story, but anyway... far cheaper than a typical new car is why I brought that up) and carefully paid it off over the last 4.5 years, never overextending myself, always paying on time, etc. I know that for normal people, this isn't a big deal, but having known me and my idiotic financial woes of my early 20s makes me realize that, sheesh, I'm kind of a grown up. I can make a commitment to pay for something, a long commitment, and then actually follow through on it. It's kind of cool, you know?
23. Postcard of a pastel by Redon called The Boat. This was one of my favorites of his, but my real, actual favorites from the Van Gogh museum were Redon's etchings. Bizarrely, I cannot find prints or postcards or books of his etchings. Everyone's so fucking ga-ga over his work in color (which is very lovely, don't get me wrong, but really- in comparison to other work of his time being done in other types of color media, it's not that remarkable. To me, his etchings are where he truly shone.) Anyway, the postcard serves as a small reminder of this artist and his work that I loved so much.
24. A tile. A boat. Together, two of H's favorite things. I don't think I was involved in that purchase. As I recall, when we were in Lübeck, I took to my chamber each day from 3-6 or so to rest. If it wasn't the butthole flaring up, the barely recovered stress-fractures were causing problems. I was just in such a world of hurt that by three o'clock, I was truly too tired to go any further. And (with my blessing, of course) H would spend that time each day wandering around where he wanted to go. And during one of his wanderings, he picked up this tile.
25. Oh, the boats. H loves the water, thus H loves the boats. These are two of the three pieces we came back with that featured boats. One of them is from an antique bookseller in Lübeck who cuts old color etchings from otherwise worthless volumes and frames them to sell them. We bought the small oval one from him, and a larger one (not pictured here as it was being pressed since it had gotten smooshed in H's suitcase). The other came from... crap. I don't remember now. Anyhow, H got not only a boat tile, but three boat prints. He's quite happy with them. I think they're great since they make him so happy.
26. Lego keychain. We went to the Lego store in Köln, and even though I wanted to buy a thousand things, I just bought this little keychain. I thought it was kind of cool.
27. The springy animals, also from Paulina's in Lübeck. I'll have to take a picture once they're all hung. So cute!
28. With the blue and white. And the ceramic. Yeah. It's a Delft-ware style bowl from Amsterdam. It doesn't help that blue is our favorite color, but sure. We did go a little overboard with it. Spread throughout the house, perhaps it won't be so overwhelming.
29. Another sweet treasure from Paulina's. This one is a vellum card that you unfold into a rectangle that you place over a tealight. Very cute.
30. Blue. White. Ceramic. Seen it all before, right? This one's a candle holder. In fairness, we had one like it before that broke during one of our moves, so this is actually just a replacement.
31. Blue. White. Ceramic. These are klompen, the Dutch wooden shoes, meant to be an ornament, or perhaps just something you stick on a shelf somewhere. I don't know how we'll use them.
32. White. Ceramic. Colors??? Yeah, these are hand-painted ceramic drawer knobs that we bought from a French-country booth in the Albert Cuyp market in Amsterdam. These will probably have a future with our bathroom remodel, whenever that happens...
33. Miscellaneous postcards from miscellaneous places. H likes to hang postcards in his office to remind him of all the places he's been.
34. The German-language children's books I bought. Again, I bought these early in my trip, when the jet lag had deluded me into letting some hope creep in. I said that they were for ME (which they are), but of course, in the back of my head, I'm thinking that they are so important to have as part of the bilingual education of our (non-existent) children. Sigh.



And so. That's enough for now. I know! I totally tricked you! I set it up like I was going to talk about my last days in Amsterdam, but then I didn't! Hopefully, for now, the descriptions of the souvenirs will suffice for Europe-Tales. I promise that tomorrow I will be all up in your face with talk of canal boats and museums and crazy Dutch bicyclists. But for today, it's time to flip the laundry again and do a little more gardening.

So. Anyone want to tell me their favorite travel story, get me all ramped up to finish mine???

.

Saturday, July 4, 2009

4th of July Gift

Here you go. This is possibly the funniest and most bizarre advertisement I've ever seen, much less to be seen on the back of a pedicab outside the Royal Palace in Amsterdam... enjoy.

Weirdest Pedicab Ad Ever




Why yes! That IS a detailed medical-grade drawing of the cross-section of a woman's lower abdomen, with a catheter inserted through the cervix and bubbles of what I can only presume to be embryos passing through. Complete with funky bladder... or is that the rectum? Who knows??? Anyhow, it's just what we all need to see while we are passing the time, drinking the most ridiculously overpriced beers of the whole trip. Did the cramps subside enough for a minute that you forgot that you had failed once again to conceive? Were you forgetting that you are infertile? Well! Here's an ad to remind you!

Sheesh. At least it's putting infertility in the public eye, right??

Friday, July 3, 2009

All Quick-Like

Here is one of these tricky posts that aren't really posts...

I just wanted to let everyone know that (despite a 3 hour delay at Fucking Dulles, as the airport has come to be known by H and me) I am home, safe, mostly sound, etc.

I have been hit with the jet lag in a big way. I expect for it to take a while to get over, but right now, I'm feeling all whiny, and poor-me, etc., as if I did not just take a fabulous month-long vacation to Europe. Which, I mean, is the cause of the state I am in right now, but still. I continue to contend that just because there is a very good reason for something to exist does not make it's existence more tolerable. I can deal with a wonky sleep schedule, but the headaches are killing me, even if the headaches were caused by a fabulous vacation.

I got back on the treadmill today, the lovely, lovely treadmill. Me and my treadmill are going to be inseparable for a few weeks here. I only gained 1-2 lbs (I think...), but I lost a little bit of muscle endurance, which I have to work to gain back. Today's 4 miles were hard, hard, hard, and I won't be doing that distance again any time soon, I think. I need to work back up to it.

Additionally, I have been working to get our house back in to order after being gone for a month, during which time the lovely house sitter did not lift a finger (at least I'm pretty sure that's the case). She did attempt to clean some just before our return, but it is clear that she did not water any of our plants while we were gone (which was the one thing we really, really begged her to keep on top of), nor did she even begin to do any sort of weeding, etc., or general day-to-day cleaning. We asked her to just keep things from getting horribly, awfully overgrown with the lawn (we had someone who did the basic mowing so she wouldn't have to mow an acre and a half), but she said that she couldn't find the battery for our weedeater (never mind that she and I were in contact via Facebook the entire time I was gone, so she could have asked me at any point... never mind the fact that HANDS do wonders for pulling the odd weed before they become monstrous 3 ft high bush-like things that block the driveway...). So, I spent the morning pulling weeds, and losing all of my morning glories because they had intertwined themselves with the weeds such that I couldn't pull one without the other. H spent the afternoon finishing what I didn't. And there's much more to do to get the overgrown herb garden back in to some semblance of order. Sigh. My bathroom scale was broken (it said I weighed 132 lbs... um, not since I was TEN, thank you. Had to get a new one, because I really need to stay on top of my weight with the exercise/diet interruption caused by travel.). Pots and pans appear as though they haven't had a thorough washing in a month (even though they were put back in my cabinet as though they were clean). Things are just not right (computer settings different, bathtub not very clean, furniture moved just enough to notice, etc.), but all of this is, to some degree, to be expected after a long absence. I just can't help but feel a little taken-advantage-of somehow. I mean, how hard is it to do the one thing I really begged of you to do in exchange for staying at our house, rent/utility-free for a month? Put water in can. Pour water from can to plant. Repeat. Oh, and did I say yet? She (conveniently) had her car fixed on the day we arrived, so she could have picked us up from the airport after all. Could've saved my dear friend a 6 hour round trip (though I really, really enjoyed seeing my friend, so that I don't mind so much). Or maybe her car was never broken. I don't know. Something smacks of bullshit... or maybe it just smacks of the fact that she's only 20 years old, and doesn't have the fundamental maturity to do what she agrees to do. Or maybe I'm just a picky asshole. That's probably the real case of things. Kate, the asshole.

Anyway. I suppose this has turned into a real post, when actually, I just wanted to explain why I haven't yet taken the time to post my last travel stories from Amsterdam. I did, however, post some photos today (go see them. really, it's worth it.). I got some phenomenal shots out the window of the plane, a very literal silver lining (well, gold, actually) on the clouds that (partially) caused our departure delay.

Sun and Clouds

Sunset at 20,000 feet

So yeah. More soon. I have no plans whatsoever for the 4th. Perhaps we will go hiking again, to celebrate being "Americans"...

And you? Happy-fabulous-making-wonderful plans for the 4th? What of you?

.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Nederlands, the last(-minute)!

We catch our cab in about an hour and a half to go to the airport. Our flight leaves at noon-ish Europe time, and lands at 6:00 p.m. EST- if only the flight really were only six hours, but alas, it is more like 12 with the plane change at Dulles. So that means that we'll land somewhere around midnight Europe time and be all wonky confused about the whole "night-is-dark" thing for a while.

Nevertheless, I have stories to tell on my return. I got to meet Rachel, JD and the wee fusspot yesterday evening (from Long Distance Infertility), and she is even *more* charming and funny and interesting in person than she is on her blog. All I know is that if they can make a baby with an ocean between them, there's got to be hope for H and me.

There is more to say about my visit with Rachel and all my days in Amsterdam, and even some great pictures, too, but for now, I need to shower and eat breakfast and stuff those last few things in my suitcase and carry my luggage down the narrowest staircase in the world and get on a taxi and go through a security interview (!) and get on a plane to go back to the U.S.

Goodbye, Europe. I am so sad to leave you. I will miss you. And I will come back someday!

.
Edited to add: Almost forgot! My most awesome friend, J, will be driving from Asheville (almost three hours away!) to pick me up from the airport! We have a ride! Love her! What an AWESOME friend!

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Nederlands, the first!

Wow! Twice in one day!

Just a quick update to let you guys know that the first pictures are up from the Amsterdam trip, if you're curious. You can see them here: Kate's Germany Pictures.

Tomorrow, we plan to go to the Rijksmuseum and the Van Gogh museum, and maybe take a canal tour (I'm trying to convince H to do both a regular boat tour AND a "canal bike"- aka paddleboat- tour. We'll see...).

Boats On The Canal

Unfortunately, I am all old and grumpy-like, and thus have no interest whatsoever in visiting a "coffee" shop. It's just not my thing. Fortunately, despite rumors to the contrary, there is a shit ton to do here besides getting baked, and I plan to fit as much of it in to our two full days here as I can! A side-effect of being all old and grumpy-like is that we came back to our hotel at 7:00 (SEVEN!) and called it a night. We're both beat. It was a long day, trying to fight with four suitcases and trains and not knowing exactly where we were going, blah, blah, blah.

But luckily for us, we are in a LOVELY hotel, in a LOVELY area (close to the Rijksmuseum and the Vondelpark, for those in the know). It is nice and quiet, and it is a fully restored and modernized older building (I'll have to take pictures- it really is a gorgeous Victorian-era building), so the rooms have high ceilings (and ours has a balcony that overlooks the interior courtyard). It has private baths (which, if you haven't traveled much in Europe, are not a given, not at all!), and owners that are above and beyond helpful and friendly AND this hotel is not too much more expensive than some of the others we looked at that were much, MUCH lower quality. This place is called the Hotel Washington, and if you ever come to Amsterdam, I completely recommend staying here. Depending on where you want to go, it might end up being a bit of a walk, but then again, this is a really big city, with a really big tourist area, so no matter where you go, you'll have to hike at some point.

Anyhow, we couldn't be happier with where we are right now. We were very sad to say goodbye to H's dad and step-mom (they cried when they left us on the train. *sniff* sad. We almost cried, too.), but I think we are both ready to be home. Amsterdam will be the perfect send-off, I hope.

And so. Hopefully, I'll get time to post some more photos as we continue touring, but honestly, I'm going to try to enjoy this last leg of our vacation, being as fully as possible, so internet might not be a priority. Nonetheless, I am thinking of you guys, and at some point, when I'm ready to share a little heartache, I'll discuss our dinner conversation this evening, which largely regarded the fact that (as expected) getting knocked up didn't work this cycle (sigh. again.), and I'm far more crushed than I thought I'd be. Hope creeps in, even when you double bolt the door, and place one of those medieval timber post things across it. No battering ram necessary- she finds the cracks in the wood, the keyholes that you forgot to caulk up, the sliver under the door. It's like the old adage- fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. Well, it's been far more than twice that I've been fooled. You think I might have learned by now to just give it up. Just makes me feel really pathetic for thinking that there might have been a shot, no matter how slim the odds have proven themselves to be. Fuck. I'm just sad, that's all.

BUT! We are in Amsterdam! No time for tears now! Time for museums and boats and boutique shops and pancakes! YAY! Time for a last burst of fun before heading back home!

.

Goodbye, Germany!

In a few hours, we leave here to go to Bentheim (the first place we went where we saw the Count's castle), where we will take the train to Amsterdam. Actually, techincally, we take the train to a tiny city in the suburbs of Amsterdam and get off there and book our remaining leg into the city center. (Apparently, everyone has to get off the train there, and our connecting train would have given us only 4 minutes between trains, which, with two people, four carryons, and four very overloaded suitcases, will not work. So, we get off, wait a bit and book our next train.)

Anyhow, lest I waste my last few hours here, since in a rare moment, we have nothing on the agenda until we leave at around noon, I thought I'd share a bit more with you. Firstly, again, please forgive my grammar/spelling/usage- while I'm not on a chemical narcotic, I (once again) couldn't sleep well last night. Truthfully, it's a combination of things. The leaving-here thing made me a little sad, and the riding-in-the-train-with-broken-butthole thing made me anxious. And I also (with the approval of my doctor) decided that now was the time to quit taking the amitr.yptyline (or however the hell you spell that... can't think). I can't take it when/if I ever get knocked up, and he gave me full approval to stop whenever the hell I want to. It's such a small dose that I don't need to wean off of it or anything, but all the same. I'm so used to feeling doped up from it's effects (even the tiny dose I was taking made me so sleepy all the time), and it did have a tiny, miniscule positive effect on my mood, so I'm sure that quitting taking it also didn't help the sleeplessness.

But what's a good sleepless night without something to chew on in your head, right? So, without going in to too many details, we have a housesitter, who is doing us a really big favor by occupying our house while we are gone. Of course, we are also doing her a really big favor by giving her a place to live when she otherwise would have been homeless (or would have had to go home to her parents earlier than she planned to, at least, and would have lost her income for that time). Anyhow, she ever-so-kindly drove us to the airport so that we wouldn't have to pay for a shuttle. But now, her car is broken, and she cannot pick us up, because she won't have it fixed until the day after we come back. I'm a little fuzzy on the details, and my internal lie detector is going off (she's probably being as honest as she can in the medium of the written word, but I feel like there's more going on than she's sharing with us). I don't think anything terrible, and I'm trying really hard not to be freaked out, but, um, the airport is, like, FORTY miles from our house. So, it's not like we can just hop a cab home. And when she told us this (or when I got the final word on when she was getting her car fixed), it was 4 a.m. US time on Saturday morning, so most shuttle service types are closed. I sent some emails but I haven't heard back from anyone yet. I jotted down some phone numbers so that (worst case scenario) I can make a FUCKLOAD of VERY EXPENSIVE international calls to try to book a shuttle, in case we don't hear back on emails. Grr.

It's just worrying me. We don't have a way home. And I totally understand car trouble. It sucks. But at the same time, (again, without getting in to too many details) our housesitter was asking if she could stay with us, possibly as long as through the 8th, and I shared that while we love having her around, we want some alone time. We have had guests in our house since mid-May. And then we came here, where we stayed with his dad or stayed in a hotel. We want to be home. And by ourselves. And able to recover from jet lag in peace. And so we told her that if she couldn't find anywhere else that she was welcome to stay with us.

And even though she said she would totally understand if we wanted our house to ourselves, she (through her tone in email, which is never reliable, I know, but) got a little pissy. And frankly, I'm a little freaked out now. I've got someone staying in our house, who thinks it's no big deal that we're stuck overseas freaking out trying to figure out how to get home from the airport, and has the audacity to feel pissy towards me because we want to be BY OURSELVES when we get home! I'm probably reading more in to it than is actually there, but just something about the tone in her email made me feel like she wasn't pleased with our request. I can't dissect it at this point. Too tired.

OK. That's enough freaking out about that. I just wanted to share why my brain isn't right this morning. I slept but a few hours, and I'm tired and cranky and freaked out.

And right now, it appears that my period has started 4 days early. So, you know, THAT'S always great...

Anyhow, my point in posting this is to share with you some last minute views of Germany. We went for a walk last night, for the purpose of seeing a house down the street. There's a tradition here, that when a couple gets married, the neighbors get together and build an arch/entrance sort of thing for the new couple:

Wedding Arch

And it's done with so much detail- so much work! The white dots that you see over everyhing are actually handmade paper roses:

Paper Flower

And, lest you forget the purpose of marriage, here's a little reminder:

Arch With Stork

I have to say that I bristled at that a little bit. I asked Gesine whether or not this was a baby shower or a wedding thing, and she assured me that this was for a wedding. I mean, they haven't even walked in the door of their house as husband and wife when they are reminded, "Hurry up and procreate!" I mean, what if- what if?- this couple happens to be infertile? I mean, I imagine that if your neighbors put baby carriages on your roof for you to see the first thing as you walk in your door, they won't be too shy to prod you nine months later when you aren't squirting one out. And I know all too well the German penchant for being incredibly blunt. If you have some sort of flaw, they will point it out, loudly, as if you might have possibly missed it (for me, it's that I'm pale. I am constantly told that I'm SO PALE. Yes, dears. It's because I use this thing called "sunscreen" so I don't end up as an old leatherface, like you...). Anyhow, I can just imagine what it would be like to be infertile here. It would suck. Neighbors would never have enough tact to let you forget it for one second.

Sigh.


Anyhow, I think that's about all for right now.

Here's some parting "garden envy" shots. I have walked past this man's garden countless times, and I wish I had a garden like this!

Garden

He even has perfect cherries on his perfect cherry trees!

Cherry Tree

Someday!

And now, off to Amsterdam! I hope we have internet access while there, but if not, then I'll see you stateside after Wednesday!

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Friday, June 26, 2009

The Scenario Yo

Michael Jackson is dead. Farrah Fawcett is dead. Celebrity deaths come in threes- shall we count the marriage of Jon and Kate as the third, or do we wait for a literal death? Surreal. Very surreal.

Pardon my grammar/usage/spelling right now. I am under the spell of a powerful narc.otic, which I finally broke down and took this afternoon when the broken butthole got the best of me. I really need to have surgery to fix this issue. I has gotten to the point that I really can't ignore it any longer. I felt such relief this afternoon when the painkiller hit me, and I realized then how long it had been since I had not felt pain. And it really is crazy-making. I know I've talked about it before, but the idea of never being out of this pain is enough to make my head spin and lurch and my eyes fill with tears. I try not to take the nar.cot.ic because (TMI warning) it causes constipation, which is just about the worst thing I can do to the broken butthole. I'm so fricking nervous that even if I have surgery, I won't get relief because I have IBS which (for me) causes near constant constipation anyway, even when I take fiber supplements, eat a high-fiber/low-fat diet, exercise, drink enough water, etc. Any one of those things doesn't happen and it's pain all over again for me.

It really has been put into sharp relief while here how much my failing body has impacted my ability to have a good time. At least my legs have (mostly) stopped hurting for now. They flare up occasionally still, but nowhere near the constant pain I was having before. I guess what I mean is that as a somewhat anxious person anyhow, traveling is difficult for me, and when you add to that the constant need to control a situation, lest I end up in a situation where I cannot take necessary steps to relieve pain, it just causes more anxiety. Suck, suck, suck.

So.

On to other things.

I went to a sort-of housewarming party the other day that is a tradition in Germany. When the roof has been built and is awaiting it's tiles, there is a party for the workers to mark the halfway point in the construction, and to sort of "bless" the house. Usually, as I said, the party is just for the workers, but this couple decided to invite all of their immediate neighbors so that it ended up acting as a sort of block party and introduction all at once.
So the party includes a bit of ceremony that starts with the workers nailing a branch up to the crown of the roof:
Branch on the roof

Then, the head construction dude (not the contractor, but the head workperson) says a few words, in honor of all the people who have worked on the project thus far (the masons, the carpenters, the architecht, and in honor of the owners, and in honor of all the people who will see the project through to completion (the electricians, the bricklayers, the plumbers, etc.). With the completion of each statement, he takes a shot of schnapps:
The Carpenter Drinks
I have about six photos identical to this one. I have no idea how he managed to climb back down the ladder without falling off!

At the conclusion of his spiel, he makes a statement about how everyone has done his or her part to make this house solid and a good home, but that ultimately, it is in God's hands. And then he throws the shotglass with substantial force into the metal construction dumpster where it shatters.

And then, everyone goes inside for a drink and some food.

It was a really neat thing to be a part of this. I can't say I've ever seen anything like this, and I probably won't see it again.

However, the best part of the evening was that the wife of the couple spoke brilliant English. They were an older couple who had run a pharmacy in a community about 30 miles from here, and had sold the business a decade ago and retired. Now, as a hobby, she does video editing and he does carpentry. She also happens to be an avid skiier/climber/hiker, and just spent two weeks hiking her way through national parks from San Francisco to Denver and down to the Grand Canyon. She is probably one of the most fascinating people I've met, and it sucks that I won't get to see her again any time soon! Heiko and I ended up staying there late into the evening, drinking excellent German beer, and talking with the couple.

She also happens to be an accordion player, and we talked about our mutual love of music, and how we both had very similar circumstances surrounding music. She is incredibly smart (having been trained in chemistry and medicine both, as is necessary to own a pharmacy over here), and has traveled so very much, having twice been to Nepal and twice to the Galapagos, and hundreds of points in between. She also happens to collect languages, much like others would collect stories. Anyhow, it wasn't just that we spoke the same language, but that she had so much of interest to say, and related so well to the things I shared with her. We just have such similar tastes and desires and understandings of the world around us (not that I am a chemist- I don't mean that- just that she had such a curiosity that I really could relate to).

Anyhow, most of interest to me was that this older couple was childless. I don't know the circumstances around that situation ('cos, I mean, there is absolutely no reason to ask such a thing), but what I do know is that I saw a couple that loved each other dearly, that were a little odd, that had such diverse interests that had lived such an incredible life thus far. And pointedly, it's a life that they could never have lived with children.

And I guess somehow, to me, that was like a giant lift from the universe saying, "Even if you are never able to have the family you want, look how rich your life can be!" And I know that if we don't have a child, there will always be a hole in me that will never be filled, there will just be this gap that shouldn't be there. But in spite of that, meeting someone who at her heart is so very similar to me who has had (and is still having) such an awesome life, who has managed to celebrate life in every way-- well, it just makes me feel a little lighter somehow. And a little sad that I won't get to spend more time with her, at least for a while.

So. We also went to the monestary. It was boring, but they had good cake at the cafe on premisis. That's about all I can say for it. It's a square old building where monks used to live, where once Napoleon took over the grounds to house his troops (and later, his horses). Very pretty grounds, but overall, just kind of... boring. Maybe I've just become desensitized to the whole "Lordy, that building is OLD" thing. Or maybe I'm preparing myself to leave, and thus am just less emotionally invested or something. But all I know is that I left the monestary with the impression that it was a supremely pointless visit. Sigh.

So. What of you lately? I am getting even more ready to go home, yet still very excited to see Amsterdam as well. But really, mostly, just ready to be in my very own bed with my very own pillows. Sad but glad. Happysad. Sigh.

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Thursday, June 25, 2009

News from Abroad

I know, I know. You guys are all dying to hear more details about the neverending ("marathon, snail-trail, death-march" would be what my friend, M, would say. M is the most shockingly attractive, incredibly dashingly handsome man I know who also happens to be right around 5'3" tall. He's like Prince. I'd just tuck that man right in to my shirt-pocket! Mmmm. Wll, except that I'm married, that is. And M is decidedly just a friend and I haven't seen him in, like, six years now, but I digress...) Germany trip, but this morning, H got some awesome news.

The tenure-track position that was, and then wasn't, and then was a sliver of hope, but highly unlikely- well, the decision has been made. And out of 20+ proposed positions school-wide, his was one of two that were accepted. Which means that his position is being converted in to a tenure track position! WOOOOHOOOOO!

So, even though there's all this stupid stuff that has to happen first (per policy, the position has to be posted and a nationwide search has to be completed, and they must interview at least three candidates, etc.), H is pretty much a shoe-in, since, well, he, like, already works for the university in the position that is being converted, etc. So, unfortunately, this is not an immediate thing, but (barring major tragedy between now and then, which one must not fail to consider as a slight possibility), in the Fall of 2010, H will officially be on tenure track.

In the face of massive cuts in universities across the country, to not only have a job, but to have a (very, extremely, 99% certain) promotion is huge. It's just good news. And I am so excited for my zucker-pflaume. Good man, indeed.


Ahem. So. What to say about my travels as of late? Well, since we came back from Berlin, we've been staying pretty close. If you viewed the photos in my flickr Germany 2009 set, then you know that we ventured north to the shore of the North Sea.

It was there that I confirmed several things:
1. I do not like the wind.
2. I do not like salty air.
3. I do not like the beach, unless it is in some sort of tropical locale with frosty rum-filled beverages in hand and am dressed in appropriate manner for said weather.
4. I cannot stand to have wispy strands of hair sticking to my (inch-thick sunscreened) face.
5. I have not yet gone a single day on this trip without smelling something that has made me want to vomit.
6. I do not think that Germany smells bad. I just think that I have an incredibly sensitive nose and an incredibly strong gag reflex and have happened to be traveling in either very rural (horse/cow poo) or very urban (human pee) or very water-adjacent (rotting fish) areas.
And, biggest of them all:
7. I am a complete control-freak.

Of course, I have also figured out something else.
8. Having a travel companion who you adore, of whom you cannot get enough, who puts up with your neuroses, who knows that sometimes you just need a little whisper-shouting to clear the air, who is the only person in the world you actually want to whisper-argue with, who agrees that German bedding sucks because it makes cuddling hard, who sleeps on the crack just so that you can cuddle, who you just love, more and more and more? Well, it makes for a trip that despite minor nuisances, has been completely perfect.


And I really can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm ready to go home. I feel like I could still use another couple of weeks here, but knowing that the flight home is soon makes me ready to be back on familiar ground. I miss reality TV. I cannot believe I missed the entire first month of So You Think You Can Dance? (can anyone tell me who I should be rooting for this year? I only got to see the audition weeks before leaving...). I miss bookstores with books I can actually read. I miss cooking. I miss familiar food (though me and the yogurt/muesli/fruit breakfast-thing are BFFs now, so there's no parting us...). I miss being in the same time zone as everyone else (or at least close). I am eager to return home and see how life will unfold over these coming months. Will I be able to find a job? Will I even WANT to find a job? (no) Will I ever get knocked up? Will I ever go to law school, or will I find another educational path? The degree, far from finishing anything, has just left me with even more questions, as a good philosophy degree should.

So. Things are winding down. We head to a monestary this afternoon that was once abused by his royal shortness, Napoleon Bonaparte. Pictures, I'm sure. This evening, there is a party held by new neighbors (in the time span that we've been here, the house across the street has gone from being an empty wooded area, to being ready to have the roof put on, and there is a tradition here that you have a little party for the workmen when the roof is ready to go on, and this guy decided to invite his new neighbors as well. Apparently, his wife speaks perfect English, which is a rarity in rural northwest Germany). Henry (H's German BF) comes over on Friday, Saturday we will do last minute shopping for things we want to take back with us (gummis. omg, the gummis.), and then Sunday we leave at noon for Amsterdam. Time spirals, quicker and quicker.

And so. Anyone want anything from Germany (anything that won't land me in jail, that is, Ms. E... though don't think that I haven't thought of ways to steal one without getting caught! Damn the fact that it doesn't ever actually get dark here this time of year!)? German tortillas? Candy? Don't tell me I'm the only one obsessed with all things gummi??? (Did I say yet? I don't think so. While we were on the river, we passed Bonn, and considered getting off there but didn't. I knew it was the former seat of the German government- fine. And that it was where Beethoven was born- also great and lovely. But did you know that Haribo gummis are headquartered in Bonn? When I found that out, found out how close we'd been to Gummi Mecca and how we hadn't gotten off the boat to visit, well. I was just a little miffed that this fact had not been brought to my attention sooner, while I could still have a chance to rectify the missing of Gummi Holy Land...). Anyone for a jar of blood sausage?

Anyone???

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