Thwarted

Rather than resorting to a ball and chain, we macgyvered a little something out of cardboard and coat hangers to keep Lola grounded. And then decided to go for a slightly sturdier piece of wood.


Now opa can stop threatening us.

Scrumptious Crocuses

The crocuses are back! In the fall of 2007 we planted hundreds of bulbs around the evergreen in the front yard and in between the bamboo. We have daffodils, tulips, hyacinths, grape hyacinths, lilies, and crocuses. Last year I noticed the yellow crocuses seemed to die quicker than the purple ones. My dad explained to me that was because the birds ate them and they like the yellow ones better than the purple ones. I thought he was kidding.

He went on to tell me how back in the seventies, there were hundreds of crocuses in the garden surrounding the lab where he worked. My dad and his colleagues also noticed the yellow crocuses looked ragged. They realized the birds were devouring the yellow crocuses but they left the purple ones alone. Being scientists, they had to put that to the test. One of his co-workers went outside, picked one of each color and ate them. Sure enough, the yellow ones were tastier.

So, we will just enjoy the yellow crocuses until the birds are back too. They should be here any minute now.

Friday Funnies

Lola whacked me on the head this morning in bed. She does this quite often. (I am surprised she hasn't broken my nose yet.) But this time she gave me a kiss on the ouch spot and said: "Sowwy." It was the first time she did that. Needless to say, the pain magically went away. Instantly.

Carla already had a house full of kids when I dropped Lola off. Dylan (4) had spent the night and was in the bathroom getting dressed. When my daughter tried to enter the bathroom, Dylan popped his head out and declared: "Lola wants me."

They grow up so fast.

Yah Or Nay?

Up!

Milestone Mania

Milestone One
My child made her first sentence yesterday. We were on our way home, taking the scenic route, when I heard her in the back seat: "Papa home." When I told her papa was at work, there was no-one home but Sandman, she was quiet for a little bit and then she replied: "Sandman home."

I know. It's only two words. What can I say, I am her mother. It's my maternal duty to proudly report these events.

Milestone Two
We have started to use the lock on the fridge. Lola no longer needs us to feed her. She is perfectly capable of doing it herself, thank you very much.

Milestone Three
Papa is proud, mama is in denial, opa and a whole bunch of other people are going to have a heart attack. I don't think they make gates for this sort of thing. Oh God...

Truly, Madly, Deeply

Happy Valentine's Day!

Moment Of Clarity

The pills are kicking in! For the first time in a week my head does not feel foggy. I should take advantage of that feeling and clear something up.

Whenever we can't find something in the barn, it is because Lola took it. This is probably true in less than half of the cases. And whenever I am having a bad day, it's because Life In The Barn is getting to me. But I have had the occasional bad day all my life. Everybody does. It is just nice to have circumstances to blame. That doesn't necessarily mean that they are.

Thank you for the virtual hugs, though! It feels good to be loved.

Melodrama

Oddly enough, I felt much better after posting the last entry. I did not even have to resort to actual screaming. Which is a good thing because my head still pounds, though not as hard.

There wasn't really one event in particular that got to me, more a series of tiny little things: headache, sore throat, uncooperative child, bank closed even though it was past nine o'clock and they were not being robbed, too many cold medications to choose from... The usual minor irritations. Nothing to warrant a bout of screaming or running away.

Some days the weight of our situation just seems to be heavier than other days. That's all.

Some Days...

...I just want to scream! Or get in the car and keep driving. Things are NOT going my way today. And my head is pounding due to a severe sinus cold. What's a girl to do?

Take two aspirins and keep breathing. It'll pass. It always does.

Blind Blogging

When I blamed Lola for the missing mouse a few posts back, I was not joking. She really did take the mouse. And killed it. Of course, this was no ordinary mouse. This was a very sophisticated mouse, with matching keyboard missing an H. And one of the ALT keys but that is not as inconvenient. The set is rather expensive to replace. Fortunately we have more than one computer and I have been using Ryan's laptop the past couple of weeks. But all my documents and pictures are on the desktop and it is starting to bother me that I cannot get to them.

Ryan is in Chehalis at the moment, making music with his buddies. I was kind of looking forward to doing a bit of writing and surfing the web while he was gone. After I had put Lola to bed, I settled onto the couch with a cup of tea, only to find Ryan had taken the laptop with him. Shoot! Now what? I was not in the mood for watching television and I have no idea where the books are. I could play with my kumihimo disk but my heart was set on something else. And since I remember the pre-mouse days, I thought I'd give the desktop a whirl.

So far I have managed to fix the internet connection, download the emails that were piling up on a distant mail server, send out a few emails, and empty the memory card of my camera. All with the TAB, the ALT, the ENTER, and the arrow keys. Not bad, huh? Bursting with confidence I decided to go online. That was a bit more challenging. I got stuck on Facebook. Not too key-only friendly. After a few attempts I gave up. There are limits to my determination. I surfed to Olympic Adventures instead.

There is a line in the Brett Favre post that bothers me. I want to change it. According to my self-imposed editing rules, heavy textual editing is only allowed on the day of posting. A post should really be finalized before it is published, but things always look different in print. Even in virtual print. I often find myself doing some tweaking after I publish. Sometimes quite a lot. Once the date changes though, the words are set in stone. Only typos and grammar errors can be corrected. This means I have two and a half hours to edit my post.

However, when I tried to sign in to Blogger, I accidentally changed the language to Arabic. Oops. I did not mean to raise the bar quite that high. It felt like I was stumbling around in the dark. I could not find my way out until I finally realized the web page should be read from right to left. Now that things are back to normal, I can go ahead and make my changes. I wonder if I am also able to upload photo's without a mouse. Hmmmm, let's see...

No.

Go Packers!

Breaking News! Brett Favre is retiring. Again. Let's hope this time things go a little bit more graceful.

In case you are wondering “Brett Who?”, I am talking about football. American football, of course; twenty two overdressed men and a rugby ball. With Ryan being from Wisconsin, our allegiance is to the Green Bay Packers. Wisconsinites, also known as Cheese Heads (just like the Dutch!), really love their Packers. I was THIS close to being one of those wives with a portrait of former Packers quarterback Brett Favre (it is pronounced Farve) hanging above the mantel piece, were it not for two things:

1. Brett retired last year too, and then pulled a Heintje Davids (Dutch singer who kept coming out of retirement). It turned rather ugly when the Packers didn't want him back. Very embarrassing incident in an otherwise very impressive career.

2. I no longer have a mantel piece.

Brett was relocated to the New York Jets in real life and his Packers portrait to the laundry room. He was left behind when we moved. Ryan informed me this morning the renters have relocated him again. He now resides over the stove in the kitchen. Nice and warm, albeit greasy.

To say Americans love sports is an understatement. I wonder sometimes if their love of competitive sports accounts for their competitive nature or if it is the other way around? Either way, it pales in comparison to their love of sports statistics, most of which involve Brett Favre these days. The result of a very long career.

I must admit I love to watch the game, too. (So does Lola. She walks up to the television and tells them off if they're not playing well. I think. I don't understand her but she sounds like she means it. Hand gestures and all.) I understand the basic rules and that helps a lot.

And it's fun to root for a team. I miss watching the speed skating championships in the winter and cheering on the Dutch. Even with Americans in the competition, there is just no interest here. It's not broadcasted on any of the dozens of sports channels. The only occasion I had to root for the Dutch was during last year's European Soccer Championship. Which I did, once I got into the habit of watching early in the morning.

Sunday before last was Super Bowl Sunday. No Packers though, they did not make the play-offs. (But Bruce Springsteen was there for half-time entertainment! I was happy.) The last game of the season was played by the Pittsburgh Steelers and the Arizona Cardinals. With Ryan's parents trading in Wisconsin for Arizona during the winter months, we adopted the Cardinals.

The Steelers won. They are now the Champions of the WORLD. Modesty is a vastly overrated virtue (JKG).

Groundhogs & Other Reliable Forecasters

I guess the Punxsutawney Groundhog, the most famous of groundhogs (no idea why), was right after all. Six more weeks of winter lie ahead of us. It was supposed to be a LITTLE snow mixed in with the rain today. At least, that is what the weather guy told us yesterday. And it was repeated on the radio this morning, on my way to work. You probably don't believe me anymore when I insist snow is rare in Western Washington, do you?


To add insult to injury, now I am sick. Because the continuous sneezing was wearing me out, I decided to make it a short workday today. That was probably a wise decision, considering the amount of snow that was coming down. Slipping and sliding I slowly made my way home. I had to make a little d-tour half way there because my car would not oblige when I wanted to make a right turn onto South Bay Road. Too much snow. Had to make a left turn instead. Or end up in a ditch.

The snow forced me to ignore every single STOP sign on the way. The downhill ones because I simply couldn't stop, the uphill ones because I needed to keep my momentum going. I am getting better at driving in the snow, though. I no longer move like a little old lady. I just keep telling myself to drive at a steady pace, not too fast, not too slow. Just pretend you're riding a bicycle through the sand. Let the car find its own way. And that works. I made it home safely.

And now I am going to bed. With a great big box of tissues to keep me company.

Nijntje!

Twice now have I turned on the television and found myself transported back to Holland. The first time was a little over a year ago and a nasty surprise. Picture this: you're working out at the gym, pushing your own weight with your legs. You look up at the row of television-sets suspended from the ceiling, when all of sudden, without warning, Peter R. de Vries appears on screen! Dutch self-proclaimed crime solver and reporter. Very annoying man. He claimed he had solved Natalee Holloway's murder and was advertising his show during which The Truth would be revealed. Right.

Yesterday morning was a much more pleasant experience. Nijntje! Or Miffy, as she is known here. Lola loves Nijntje, we read her books frequently. She didn't feel the same about the cartoon though. After the initial happy recognition, she quickly became bored with the bunny and moved on. She doesn't care much for watching television. She prefers playing with her nipples.

Who Am I?

Earlier today I went to the bank to make a deposit into my account. It's a joint account, in the names of Ryan J. and Johanna V. N. Johanna V. N. does not exist. The bank knows this. But our checks and my debit card say so anyway.

All my life I have been Hanneke van H. I was never that crazy about Hanneke but it has been a part of me since birth. My mom loves the name. I was named after my paternal grandmother and things could have been much worse. I could have been called Annie.

The Dutch tradition of giving a child a so-called 'calling name' is unknown here. I find that most Americans do not see how Hanneke has its roots in Johanna, my official name. I am not sure why. It seems obvious to me. And if you have no trouble saying Jack to someone named John, or Dick to Richard, why is Hanneke instead of Johanna so strange?

Another problem is the fact that I have two middle names. The second name rarely makes it because most automated systems only allow for one middle name. Sometimes I can squeeze an M in there, mostly I am Johanna A. Americans don't do initials only like the Dutch. They always write your first name in full. I like that.

Of course, I had to go and make things extra complicated when I got married. I hyphenated my name. I opted for Van H. - N. I should have gone for straight up N. Even remaining Van H. would have been easier than adding N. to my name. And not in front of, like the old days. No, I had to be all emancipated and attach it behind Van H. Johanna A.M. Van H. hyphen N. doesn't fit in ANY computer system.

But the greatest difficulty concerning my name is its pronunciation. Whenever I use my supermarket club card, for example, my name is printed on the receipt. The cashiers have been instructed to thank you for your business using your name.

"Thank you, Mrs..." and then it goes quiet. "How do I pronounce your name? Would you like carry-out service?"

I even changed my name on my resume to Johanna N. - Van H. Just to ensure fear of mispronouncing my name does not scare potential employers off. A thoughtful albeit unsuccessful strategy.

Mostly I go by Hanneke N. these days. And that works fine although quite a few people believe my name is Monica. I tried Johanna N. on for size once, but it didn't fit. I answered the phone with it, hoping it was an invitation for a job interview, and my sister burst out laughing on the other end. Haven't done it since. It just doesn't roll off the tongue right.

I did attempt to change my name. I went to the Social Security Office to request an official change of name. They cannot help me. Because I am a resident, not a citizen, Homeland Security has to okay it first. And since Homeland Security is not even convinced I entered my marriage in good faith - evidently having a child does not count as proof - I am not going to bother with a name change. I am too busy gathering evidence of my legitimacy.

Maybe that's the reason they are requiring additional documentation. I didn't lose Van H. and that caused suspicion. Or perhaps just confusion.