The Rainbow Connection

I have been thinking about rainbows a lot since January. 

I was always told that rainbows were supposed to be a sign of hope and promise.  During the dark, rainy, and emotionally draining months of late winter and early spring, I needed signs of hope and promise. 

Our adventure here in Germany was always intended to be temporary, ending in June, with the thought and hope that we would be transitioning somewhere new, somewhere over the rainbow that would be the promised land of an academic job.  Of course we knew that there would be a possibility that this wouldn't happen, given the abyssmal state of the academic history job market, but we just didn't think that would be where we'd find ourselves.  And then, after months of interviews, hopes, frustrations, emotional rollercoasters, tears, that's where we found ourselves. Skunked. Bitter. No plan. Sick of picking up the pieces and moving on.  There were good days where I could see how this process was good for us in some ways . . . but then there were the other days, when it seemed too big to handle.  Did I mention tears? Oh there were tears.

Somewhere in there, I started thinking about rainbows . . . listening to "Rainbow Connection" sung by Kermit the Frog (and only the Kermit version would do it for me) on repeat.  This little symbol and the tremendous moral support I got from family and friends were the only things that kept me grounded and sane.  My friend Maureen has been sending me sheets of rainbow stickers in regular installments since February . . . some I give to Elsa and let her stick them on anything and everything, and some I just keep, to look at and just stick on something randomly when I have one of those days. 

So that's where we have been, with everything coming to a head around mid-April.  Which is why I sort of disappeared for a bit . . . suddenly we had to face the fact that we needed to put together a plan, quickly. So we did.

And then.

Just when we least expected it, at the last minute, just like the rainbow chasers always say it will, something happened.  Erik was offered a job, he accepted, and we are putting on our ruby slippers and moving to Kansas for a year. 

I had grand visions of what it would be like the day this happened . . . I pictured screams, making an emergency run to buy fancy champagne, tears of joy . . . but mostly we were just stunned. Relieved, happy, terrified, and stunned.  Since then, corks have definitely been popped and the reality of it all has set in as we make plans to move forward with yet another adventure . . . with some trepidation of course.  And a few nightmares about tornadoes.

Only after several weeks of sitting on this news did I realize that it all comes back to rainbows.  What is the most famous rainbow song of all? Of course. Somewhere Over the Rainbow.  Where does Dorothy sing this? Of course. Kansas.  It may not have been how I pictured my pot of gold, but who knows. 

Ad astra per aspera- "To the stars with difficulty"
-Kansas State Motto

9 Months!

I know . . . I missed 7 and 8 and now I'm late for 9, but only by a few days. There have been just a few things going on . . . but . . .
Happy 9 months Clara! I'm in denial that we are 3/4 through her first year already, but my little baby is getting big. And squirmy.

In the past 3 months, Clara has been to Paris, Munich and Austria, and Belgium. Where will she go this month?
Home. To the U.S.A., where she hasn't been since this picture was taken:

It's been a wild ride, Fräulein. 

Wine and roses

We knew this day would come . . . all through the long, dark winter we knew that summer would arrive and bring light, life, color, and phenomenal day trips that cause Elsa to say, "This is the BEST ausflug I've ever had!" (ausflug = getaway).

Today was this day.  Heading just a few miles up the Rhine and into the lush green hills, we visited the medieval monastery of Kloster Eberbach, which now produces some fabulous wines.

Medieval wine cellar

Unlike our last trip to this area, we found ourselves with a couple of very cooperative little travelers this time around. 

Then it was time to head to the hills, through the vineyards, and back to Eltville to catch our train home.

Except that it is the Rosentage (Rose Days) festival in Eltville. . . on second thought, let's give Elsa a lollypop and take the later train.

And Clara. You have a lot to learn, my little lady . . . a rose is to be smelled, not licked.  But as long as you're happy . . . why not.