Did I mention that we live in wine country?

The Rhineland. Wineland. Sometimes Whineland, depending on the day (like yesterday).

Back to wine. Scenes from a beautiful day in Kiedrich and Eltville, where a little wine made a lot of whine easier to handle.

They just can't get enough of this place!

It has always been my parents' dream to visit Germany three times in six months.  We are happy to help make their dream come true.

Ok, fine . . .  it's not Germany that really attracted them. It's probably not me, either.

It's been a busy week having fun with them here. Fortunately this visit saw much more sunshine and warm days than their last visit, which allowed us to do things like go to the zoo, play in the park, and eat ice cream along the banks of the Rhine.



As always, they arrived with a bag full of treasures such as peanut butter, mac n' cheese, jellybeans, New Yorkers, our mail, and peanut butter M & M's. As always, they were pretty happy to unload that bag.  Now they are off to France and then back to the USA, which is where we will see them next time.

Happy 1/2 Birthday Clara!

You've come a long way, baby!

September 13, 2011

                                                

March 13, 2012

I continue to be amazed at how these little creatures change so quickly in such a short time.  While I love the sweetness of tiny little infants, every day with Clara reminds me that this is when things get pretty fun.



So, today we celebrate 6 months of Clara.  When I was growing up, we had a tradition of celebrating half-birthdays, complete with a half- birthday cake.  This tradition was so important to us that I still get a phone call, a card, and sometimes even a little what-the-heck-it's-your-1/2-birthday present in the mail from my mom on November 3rd. Isn't she the best? I always look for an excuse to celebrate something, even more so if it involves cake, so this tradition lives on in our new little family too. (Except that I forgot Erik's 5 days ago. So did Erik. My mom did not.)

Yes, a match-candle. I can't think of everything.

 
Clara seemed a little annoyed that she didn't get to eat any of the big chocolate thing that was briefly put in front of her, but I assured her that next time, in 6 very short months, she would join us.

The end of an era

Does anyone remember this show? Does this theme song bring back any memories? 

When Erik and I traveled to Southeast Alaska in the summer of 2008, we visited the little town of Haines, population approximately 1400. Mainstreet Haines didn't look much different from the scene above . . . and reminded us of this show from the early 90's set in the fictional town of Cicely, Alaska.  One month later I stumbled upon Seasons 1 and 2 at Costco, thus beginning our small obsession with Northern Exposure. Tonight, we watched our final episode. 

Getting through 6 seasons in 3 1/2 years is hardly an impressive accomplishment.  But between working full time, working on my DPT, Erik finishing a dissertation, having a baby, resuming items 1 and 2, teaching at 3 different schools, having another baby, and moving out of the country, 45-minute episodes were often all we had time or energy for. It was our reward at the end of an evening of homework or being too tired to do anything productive. Here in Germany we have been stretching out season 6 as long as possible, but tonight it was time to come to an end.

When the last scene closed, I thought about how our lives have changed since we started this little project. We started this in Cambridge when I was pregnant with Elsa, now we are in Germany with our two girls.  I'm measuring chunks of time in whatever form available, and tonight it's Northern Exposure time. The end of an era. 

We are looking for suggestions for our next obsession . . . any ideas?

Life in someone else's house

I love our quirky, old, 3rd-floor attic apartment, but there's something just a little bit weird about living in a furnished apartment.  It's kind of like living semi-permanently at your cabin or cottage or the condo you rent for a week in Florida with beachy decor that you would never choose for your own home, or a run-down pension in Budapest or any other place that might become a resting place of old mugs and dishes and furniture.  It kind of echoes with the ghosts of tenants past, who we only get to know through the toy car and frisbee in a drawer, the leftover dill, nutmeg, and coffee of unknown age in the cupboard, or the half-empty bottles of cleaning supplies in the bathroom.  The somewhat random supplies are puzzling:  8 pots and pans, but nothing to bake in; ashtrays but no smoke detectors (?!?); a set of china but no cereal bowls; 20 forks but only 4 spoons; 15 sets of duvet covers but only 2 fitted sheets (which, by the way, are bright orange).

We drink our morning coffee out of Brigitte's long-lost mug,

 our living room is illuminated by a diabolical pair of copulating tropical birds,

and we sit on our rose-patterned sofa and drink out of a Parliament vodka glass (what is Parliament Vodka, and why do I have 4 matching glasses from it?).

Oddly, I feel the need to explain and excuse and apologize for it all when we have visitors.  This is ridiculous . . . they all know why we are here, that these are our temporary digs and we had no role in choosing furnishings and that it's not our fault that the dining room table is at risk for collapsing so please don't lean too heavily . . . but it's hard not to feel some sense of ownership of the place we call home.  Even if it's not ours.

Despite all these idiosyncrasies, this goofy little apartment has become our home in the past couple of months. Life has filled in the cracks and smoothed over the rough spots to the point that we don't notice them as much anymore. The kitchen door that drove me crazy is now just a minor obstacle.  Most of the time we know exactly how to duck to avoid banging our heads on the slanted ceilings in the kitchen (the majority of our minor concussions now happen in the pre-coffee moments of the morning), and Elsa has mastered the 2 flights of spiral stairs.  We've learned that padding our 30-year-old mattresses with 50-year-old blankets diminishes the sensation of springs poking into our backs.  And we have learned that from our perch on the third floor, high above the street, we have a great vantage point to watch the buses come and go, and at 5:01 every evening, Elsa watches for the #1 bus and shouts, "I see Daddy!" as he makes his way across the street, to our funny little home. 

Day 7: Quesadillas

Alright, nothing super original about this one. . . it's not even a recipe. More like assembly instructions. But so good and easy! These are normally on the menu at least once a week at our house. . . if Erik had his way, our meals would be on a permanent 3-day rotation of quesadillas, spaghetti, and Tasty Bites (have you had these boil-in-the-bag Indian meals? They're awesome!) However, our difficulty finding a reliable source of tortillas has turned quesadillas into a delicacy lately.

Our typical quesadilla filling is cheese, black beans, fried egg (this is Erik's addition, and it's really good), avocado if we have it, salsa, cilantro, and if we're lucky, sour cream.  When we lived in Munich, our quesadillas generally consisted of Emmentaler cheese, kidney beans (all we could find, except chickpeas), and a sprinkle of Penzey's Chipotle Powder.  The power of  Penzey's to turn that combination into something remotely Mexican was amazing. . . so much so that we brought it back with us again. The beauty of quesadillas is that, like omelettes, they can be pretty much made out of anything you have in your fridge. . .  A few mushrooms, some leftover greens, (kale, perhaps?) mid-summer zucchini overload, winter squash or potatoes...the possibilities are endless. So go, make yourself a quesadilla. Please give our regards to the tortilla aisle at the grocery store.