It was less than 4 months ago, I was standing in my backyard with an elder from our neighborhood. To paraphrase his wisdom, he gently said the following: You need to slow down. You aren't taking the time to celebrate life, to enjoy it. Instantly I acknowledged his words were true, but with a huff of exasperation I asked, "how in the world am I supposed to do that in the middle of an international move with a two year old?"
Take a deep breath.
Look around you.
Listen to your son laughing.
Enjoy the sunset.
It's the little things in life.
His expression was convincing and unmoved by the move and the two year old. I've always envied people like him where nothing in life is too big of a deal.
Those true and brilliant words are the very reason I went searching for yoga. Slowing the pace of my life is a difficult task for me though as I am cursed with unending energy. I try to remember his words every day. It is only today that I realized that I don't need to slow down only for me. I need to slow down for my family. My entire family is happier when I take time to relax, to actually sit down at some point in the day. It's easier to wage a war on your own personality when you have an excellent reason.
My son has told me, "I sure do love you. I love you so much." about twelve times in the last five minutes. Time for a cuddle. Time to slow down. :)
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Spoiled is in the eyes of the BeeHolder
Truth? Perception? Misconception?
I always thought Americans were spoiled. Also, I thought that the rest of the world saw Americans as spoiled. It is a truth universally acknowledged, right Jane Austen?
Today, I carefully listened as an intelligent friend said, "Europeans are quite spoiled, aren't they?" My eyebrows raised as I thought....are they? "Well, yes. Americans work hard to make their lives better. Europeans are socialist. They all have tons of vacation. Work 35 hour weeks. Short weeks and lonnggg weekends by Friday at 1.00 they start their weekend." Then she looked at me, like of course they are spoiled.
We all have different perspectives, pasts, experiences and values. Take a moment to listen, empathize and respect what someone may say before you jump to conclusions,before you scowl, and before you judge. Because you may learn an important lesson, I did.
It's the reason we moved. It's refreshing. Oh yes...now I understand. If one values time, free time, family time, then yes Europeans just may be deliciously spoiled. Americans may have large houses and abundance of things, but that isn't the only definition of spoiled. Values defines affluence. Like Jack Reacher once said, affluence is having everything you need.
What do you need, honey bee?
I always thought Americans were spoiled. Also, I thought that the rest of the world saw Americans as spoiled. It is a truth universally acknowledged, right Jane Austen?
Today, I carefully listened as an intelligent friend said, "Europeans are quite spoiled, aren't they?" My eyebrows raised as I thought....are they? "Well, yes. Americans work hard to make their lives better. Europeans are socialist. They all have tons of vacation. Work 35 hour weeks. Short weeks and lonnggg weekends by Friday at 1.00 they start their weekend." Then she looked at me, like of course they are spoiled.
We all have different perspectives, pasts, experiences and values. Take a moment to listen, empathize and respect what someone may say before you jump to conclusions,before you scowl, and before you judge. Because you may learn an important lesson, I did.
It's the reason we moved. It's refreshing. Oh yes...now I understand. If one values time, free time, family time, then yes Europeans just may be deliciously spoiled. Americans may have large houses and abundance of things, but that isn't the only definition of spoiled. Values defines affluence. Like Jack Reacher once said, affluence is having everything you need.
What do you need, honey bee?
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Two children, two adults
My son and I get along beautifully. Last week, he spent an entire day telling me he loved me over and over. Can mothers ever hear those words enough? Surprising, really, that we get on so well. Toddlers are impulsive, throw tantrums, and cry a lot.
We have an interesting dynamic because we are both children at heart. I understand his impulsiveness. Yesterday, while walking alone I passed a row of cars with icicles dangling from the front grill and bumpers. My first thought (accompanied by a huge grin) was to knock them off with my snow boots. Pow. Blow. Karate Kick, Wow! Not to be destructive or mean, but out of sheer delight. Of course, being the civilized adult that I am I did not. It was only out of empathy though that I observed restraint. Empathy and discipline are the top of my teaching tough list.
I'm not a fan of tantrums or crying (unless he is in pain). I abhor them and do not tolerate them. Maybe I have different expectations than some parents? Maybe it is because he is an only child? Or maybe it is because we do treat him like an adult? Who knows? I know we are strict as parents, but it makes life easier. Colt drinks out of glasses, no straw, no sippys. He behaves in nice restaurants (9 times out of 10). He shakes hands and is impressively polite. No more strollers, he walks. I love him for acting like an adult. Am I cheating him out of a childhood? No. I am teaching him appropriate behavior in appropriate settings. Real life. Playground, his room, at school (heehee) Go crazy! Living room, stores and restaurants are for whispering like a mouse and moving like a lemming.
Here is the perfect anecdote to describe how we are two adults and two children. Lately, we have been playing this game (his idea, not mine). On the tram, he said, "I'll be the mom and you be the baby." Hmmm, ok. :)
Colt: Hold my hand.
Me: Ok, mom. Thanks, that is a nice warm hand (we grin at each other). Oh, and as soon as we get off tram I am going to cry the entire way home and you can drag me.
Colt: blank stare and the beginning of a Charlie Brown frown.
Me: HAHAHA
We have been playing this game a lot and I do think it helps him understand a mother's point of view (empathy). Fast forward to yesterday, we met a new mom at school.
Eva to Colt: What's your name.
Colt: My name is ColT. And this is my baby (he points to me)!
ROFL. The look on her face was identical to the father's face when Colt said the sheep all left in a rocket. Indescribable. I love my son!
We have an interesting dynamic because we are both children at heart. I understand his impulsiveness. Yesterday, while walking alone I passed a row of cars with icicles dangling from the front grill and bumpers. My first thought (accompanied by a huge grin) was to knock them off with my snow boots. Pow. Blow. Karate Kick, Wow! Not to be destructive or mean, but out of sheer delight. Of course, being the civilized adult that I am I did not. It was only out of empathy though that I observed restraint. Empathy and discipline are the top of my teaching tough list.
I'm not a fan of tantrums or crying (unless he is in pain). I abhor them and do not tolerate them. Maybe I have different expectations than some parents? Maybe it is because he is an only child? Or maybe it is because we do treat him like an adult? Who knows? I know we are strict as parents, but it makes life easier. Colt drinks out of glasses, no straw, no sippys. He behaves in nice restaurants (9 times out of 10). He shakes hands and is impressively polite. No more strollers, he walks. I love him for acting like an adult. Am I cheating him out of a childhood? No. I am teaching him appropriate behavior in appropriate settings. Real life. Playground, his room, at school (heehee) Go crazy! Living room, stores and restaurants are for whispering like a mouse and moving like a lemming.
Here is the perfect anecdote to describe how we are two adults and two children. Lately, we have been playing this game (his idea, not mine). On the tram, he said, "I'll be the mom and you be the baby." Hmmm, ok. :)
Colt: Hold my hand.
Me: Ok, mom. Thanks, that is a nice warm hand (we grin at each other). Oh, and as soon as we get off tram I am going to cry the entire way home and you can drag me.
Colt: blank stare and the beginning of a Charlie Brown frown.
Me: HAHAHA
We have been playing this game a lot and I do think it helps him understand a mother's point of view (empathy). Fast forward to yesterday, we met a new mom at school.
Eva to Colt: What's your name.
Colt: My name is ColT. And this is my baby (he points to me)!
ROFL. The look on her face was identical to the father's face when Colt said the sheep all left in a rocket. Indescribable. I love my son!
Thursday, January 10, 2013
My son is JUST like me :)
On our daily walk to school, Colt and I pass a field full of sheep. When we returned after the holidays, the sheep were gone. Every day we speculate about the possibilities of what may have happened to our sheep.
Yesterday, a German father to a girl in Colt's class greeted us.
Man: Good Morning
Colt: We saw a train!
Man: Oh, was it a big train or a small train?
Colt: A big train and then (pause) all the sheep left on a rocketship (dramatically with a sweeping arm motion).
I wish I had a picture of the man's face for you all. I am pretty sure he left wondering if his English was as brilliant as he thought. :)
Yesterday, a German father to a girl in Colt's class greeted us.
Man: Good Morning
Colt: We saw a train!
Man: Oh, was it a big train or a small train?
Colt: A big train and then (pause) all the sheep left on a rocketship (dramatically with a sweeping arm motion).
I wish I had a picture of the man's face for you all. I am pretty sure he left wondering if his English was as brilliant as he thought. :)
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Henry Miller and those little blue number signs
I grew up in a small town, next to a big city. Industrial, smoky Deer Park was a short distance from Houston and a long way away. The typical "American Dream" consists of a big house, nice cars, and 2.2 children. I never dreamed it. While most kids were into football games and dance class, I was into recycling and loved French club (especially the days we all brought food). Fast forward. After months of negotiations, it still wasn't easy to text Justin...Let's do it. Let's be poor! Let's live in Europe!
People look at me quizzically on the streets here when I am walking in the rain and grinning from ear to ear. I imagine they are wondering why I am smiling when the weather is dreary. I am happy. I am warm, fed, and extremely well-loved. I am living my dream. It was easy to sell the clothes, the house, and cars. It was a little harder to walk away from over a hundred grand in stock options and an American salary, but we did it. We took the plunge. My parents thought (and still think) we are completely insane. I'm so grateful they taught me not to care what anyone else thinks! :)
Most people here own cars. Many own houses. We don't. We don't want to own much of anything really. We are car-sharing, renting gypsies who have just enough furniture to live anywhere in the world, albeit very nice furniture. After the stress of selling two houses in three years, the earliest we will even consider buying is retirement.
Many years ago in Paris, I did my own literary tour endlessly searching for haunts of Hemingway, Henry and Scott, etc. Outside there would always be those lovely blue house number signs. I loved them and now we live on a street where I pass a dozen every single day. Does it bother me that I don't "own" my own little blue sign? What do you think?
I mean (lonnngg sarcastic pause), it was tough making decisions regarding our first vacation here. No airfare. Just one long train and a car rental away from an entire week in Bordeaux at a Chateaux and then a B & B in Albi for the 100 Anniversary of the Tour de France. Hello, Heaven!
People look at me quizzically on the streets here when I am walking in the rain and grinning from ear to ear. I imagine they are wondering why I am smiling when the weather is dreary. I am happy. I am warm, fed, and extremely well-loved. I am living my dream. It was easy to sell the clothes, the house, and cars. It was a little harder to walk away from over a hundred grand in stock options and an American salary, but we did it. We took the plunge. My parents thought (and still think) we are completely insane. I'm so grateful they taught me not to care what anyone else thinks! :)
Most people here own cars. Many own houses. We don't. We don't want to own much of anything really. We are car-sharing, renting gypsies who have just enough furniture to live anywhere in the world, albeit very nice furniture. After the stress of selling two houses in three years, the earliest we will even consider buying is retirement.
Many years ago in Paris, I did my own literary tour endlessly searching for haunts of Hemingway, Henry and Scott, etc. Outside there would always be those lovely blue house number signs. I loved them and now we live on a street where I pass a dozen every single day. Does it bother me that I don't "own" my own little blue sign? What do you think?
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Warmth trumps fashion!
Things Justin and I have learned in Germany, so far (in no particular order).
If you are wearing a white coat (just washed) and you see a street cleaner, cross the street. RUN.
Warmth trumps fashion!
He who does not own a car, walks a LOT.
Right on red is illegal in Germany.
Walking to the grocery store is so much cooler than having to carry all of your groceries home.
Bikes and snow, no bueno.
Nicole's feet and snow, no bueno either.
Reserve seats on trains.
Just because you think you reserved a seat on train, does not mean that a person won't be in your seat and think it belongs to them.
Not all Three Star hotels are created equally.
In fact, some three star hotels should be condemned (like crack houses...Hotel Zentrum in Frankfurt).
What one considers to be a foot path, many consider a road.
T-Mobile sucks in Germany, too!
If you ride trams,trains and buses, buy a watch.
If are running to make a tram, run in front of it rather than behind it.
If you see someone in Kassel at a full-out run, they are trying to catch a tram, bus or train. They haven't just snatched a purse (like in Houston).
There is absolutely no shame in running to make your tram. It beats sitting 30 minutes in the cold and rain.
Germans eat pizza with a knife and fork (Justin has assimilated. I refuse.)
Trams have the right of way, not pedestrians.
If you are walking in the middle of town and hear a bell, MOVE. Tram drivers can be angry people.
If you are parking on the street, make sure you aren't covering the tram tracks (so grateful it wasn't my car). SERIOUSLY. An entire tram of angry people is much worse than one angry tram driver.
When you a see a number 1 after a car on the car sharing website, it means it is the oldest car (not the cool No. 1 car, lol)
Opals are nicer than Twingos!
If you are wearing a white coat (just washed) and you see a street cleaner, cross the street. RUN.
Warmth trumps fashion!
He who does not own a car, walks a LOT.
Right on red is illegal in Germany.
Walking to the grocery store is so much cooler than having to carry all of your groceries home.
Bikes and snow, no bueno.
Nicole's feet and snow, no bueno either.
Reserve seats on trains.
Just because you think you reserved a seat on train, does not mean that a person won't be in your seat and think it belongs to them.
Not all Three Star hotels are created equally.
In fact, some three star hotels should be condemned (like crack houses...Hotel Zentrum in Frankfurt).
What one considers to be a foot path, many consider a road.
T-Mobile sucks in Germany, too!
If you ride trams,trains and buses, buy a watch.
If are running to make a tram, run in front of it rather than behind it.
If you see someone in Kassel at a full-out run, they are trying to catch a tram, bus or train. They haven't just snatched a purse (like in Houston).
There is absolutely no shame in running to make your tram. It beats sitting 30 minutes in the cold and rain.
Germans eat pizza with a knife and fork (Justin has assimilated. I refuse.)
Trams have the right of way, not pedestrians.
If you are walking in the middle of town and hear a bell, MOVE. Tram drivers can be angry people.
If you are parking on the street, make sure you aren't covering the tram tracks (so grateful it wasn't my car). SERIOUSLY. An entire tram of angry people is much worse than one angry tram driver.
When you a see a number 1 after a car on the car sharing website, it means it is the oldest car (not the cool No. 1 car, lol)
Opals are nicer than Twingos!
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Baking Ingenuity
David Lebovitz's montly newsletter just hit my gmail. His sense of humor and anecdotes about Paris hooked me a long time ago, but today I realized we share a common struggle. It's refreshing to read I'm not the only one on the planet struggling with finding ingredients, European style shopping, and the hassle and begging of shipping ingredients overseas. Living in a foreign country or even a new place poses challenges to people who like to cook. Ingredients are different, even if you luck out enough to find them they are not same. And when you are craving a certain flavor or taste, the difference is disappointing. Between David and an episode of Covert Affairs last night that had birthday candle analogy (don't over think it, just blow it out), I have been inspired.
I'm cured, in fact. Instead of spending hours searching for ingredients that I will never find and perusing cookbooks and old recipes from the US. I am leaving the angst behind me. Perfect timing, too, considering we all just graduated to 2013. Creativity, chemistry and experience are my new best friends. I'm going to just start experimenting with the basics and see where it leads.
Let me share with you some of my baking pains in Germany. I cannot find baking powder, self-rising flour, all purpose flour and even baking soda was a challenge (one store only). Google translate isn't rocket science, but the baking aisle is close. Flours here are numbered by density of the grain. No problem, right? Wrong. There is a 405 for light, fluffy cakes and a 550 for heavier dark breads, but where the hell are all the numbers in the middle? Where are the numbers for pound cakes, cupcakes, biscochitos, and hearty, fruity cookies?
Ala. All I can do is try...experiment. I wasted a week searching for baking powder to go with the raspberry and lemon buttermilk Justin found. I think it would have made brilliant mixed-berry scones!
Here's today effort. It isn't perfect, but it is a nice pairing with Nicolas Feuillatte Brut Reserve and we are saving it as a lovely finish to shrimp and chicken enchiladas. Thank goodness, Justin is even more flexible and creative than I am!
I'm cured, in fact. Instead of spending hours searching for ingredients that I will never find and perusing cookbooks and old recipes from the US. I am leaving the angst behind me. Perfect timing, too, considering we all just graduated to 2013. Creativity, chemistry and experience are my new best friends. I'm going to just start experimenting with the basics and see where it leads.
Let me share with you some of my baking pains in Germany. I cannot find baking powder, self-rising flour, all purpose flour and even baking soda was a challenge (one store only). Google translate isn't rocket science, but the baking aisle is close. Flours here are numbered by density of the grain. No problem, right? Wrong. There is a 405 for light, fluffy cakes and a 550 for heavier dark breads, but where the hell are all the numbers in the middle? Where are the numbers for pound cakes, cupcakes, biscochitos, and hearty, fruity cookies?
Ala. All I can do is try...experiment. I wasted a week searching for baking powder to go with the raspberry and lemon buttermilk Justin found. I think it would have made brilliant mixed-berry scones!
Here's today effort. It isn't perfect, but it is a nice pairing with Nicolas Feuillatte Brut Reserve and we are saving it as a lovely finish to shrimp and chicken enchiladas. Thank goodness, Justin is even more flexible and creative than I am!
An Approach to Shortbread
1 1/4 cups flour 405
1/3 cup sugar
110 ml of butter a tiny bit less than 40z
Nutmeg, cinnamon, and brown as a topping and pressed it into the dough.
Mix flour and sugar. Cut in butter. I chose a loaf pan to make a thicker, cookie bar.
350 for 20-25 minutes
It's hard to mess up flour, sugar and butter! I was worried the flour was so light it wouldn't stay together. First success. Small steps.
Next time, I will bake it in small silicone muffin pan and dip each piece in melted dark chocolate sprinkled with cayenne and brown sugar and pair it with Belgium hot chocolate. Oh, the joys of living! The best part is I burn calories here I actually get to eat it! Prost!
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