Quote of the Week...

I realize it's only Thursday, but I really don't think anything else I could possibly hear this week will top this one...

"Being married is like... living with your best friend. And having sleepovers every night."

~Melodie McMahon

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Apparently she's in on the convince-Julia-marriage-is-not-evil project...

Hyperventilating

ZOE AND KATRINA WILL BE HERE IN 20.5 HOURS. OOOOOOOOH MYYYYYYYYYY GOOOOOOOOOOOSH. SO EXCITED. After, like, 8 months of planning I just can't quite believe it's actually HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERE!!! And being in such a celebratory mood I decided to stock up on food so the jet-lagged gals won't wither away and starve on me. lol. It's actually really fun having people come out to visit, cuz it gives you an excuse to buy stuff you wouldn't normally buy just for yourself. (In my case, food in general.) I literally spent today what I normally spend in about three weeks. HAHAHA. But look at my fridge! It has never seen so much food at one time! (Or beer. Or rum. Like I said, celebratory mood...)


And those are fresh German buns on top there...YUM! I haven't even bought MYSELF fresh German buns this year...


On a totally different note:



I found this in my emails from EONS ago and it actually made me laugh out loud to read it again. Maybe it's due to my current Canada/Winnipeg nostalgia as I'm gearing up to come home in June, but either way I thought it was funny. Maybe you've read it before, maybe you haven't. Either way, if you're a Winnipegger...or have lived in/around Winnipeg for any lengthy period of time ... it should at least make you smile. :D My dad told me in an email that I'm "squeezing this Canada thing for all its worth" but let me just squeeze one more time :P ...


Subject: Guide to Winnipeg


1. First you must learn to pronounce the city name. It is WIN-A-PEG, not VIN-A-PEG and it does not matter how people pronounce it in other places.

2. Winnipeg has its own version of traffic rules. Never forget that downtown Winnipeg is composed in large part of one way streets. The only way to get out of the center of town is to turn around and start over when you reach the river.

3. All directions start with "Go down Portage".


4. Portage has no beginning and no end.


5. The 8:00 A.M. rush hour is from 6:30 to 9:30AM. The 5:00 P.M. rush hour is from 3:30 to 6:30 P.M. Friday's rush hour starts on Thursday morning.


6. If you actually stop at a yellow light, there's no chance you're from Winnipeg. Yellow lights are for sissies.


7. Lagimodiere Blvd can only be pronounced by a native Winnipegger, so do not attempt the phonetic pronunciation. People will simply tilt their heads to the right and stare at you. (And let's not forget Noter Dayme! And of course, Portidge)


8. Bingo, Bugs and Perogies are a way of life. Deal with it.


9. Construction on the Winnipeg streets in summer is a way of life and a permanent form of entertainment. (Especially those dopey-looking city workers holding up signs in traffic that say in big orange letters "SLOW:" I always want to yell, "You don't really need to advertise buddy!


10. Many bizarre sights can be explained simply by realizing "Oh, we're in Transcona!"

11. Construction crews aren't doing their job properly unless they close down all lanes except one during rush hour.


12. If someone actually has their turn signal on, it was probably left on at the factory where the car was made.


13. Buying a Winnipeg street map is a waste of money since the termination or continuation of any street is entirely at the discretion of the Works Department of the City. Example: Salter, Isabel, Balmoral, Colony, Memorial, Osborne, Dunkirk. You've gone ten miles on the same road and the name changes seven times.


14. Asking directions will help you get acquainted with numerous happy-to-help residents. It may not be any help at all for finding the address you seek.


15. Never honk your horn at another car in traffic. The bumper sticker that reads "Keep honking, I'm reloading" is considered a fair warning.


16. Exit and entry ramps on the Perimeter are just the recommended way of entering and exiting, feel free to exit at any grassy point you wish.


17. All drivers frightened of heights, stay clear of Charleswood and it's ten-foot ditches. Believe me when I say you won't get out without a hundred dollar towing ticket.

_______________

... 1.5 hours after posting all of the above...

So I wanted to make a sandwich. I opened my fridge. Then I stopped and stared. Then I thought "Wait, whose house am I at?" (Literally. No joke. That's what I was thinking.) Then I realized it was MY FRIDGE. Then I laughed. Out loud. (Can you tell I've been living on my own for a year???) But then I stopped again. What was I looking for? And what did I want on my sandwich? THERE WERE OPTIONS. I can't handle this. Usually when I open my fridge there's one thing in there. No hard decision-making necessary. So I continued to stand in front of my fridge and ask myself: what usually goes on a sandwich?
I think I'm going mental.

Defenceless

Another 6 hours down at the Zschettgau kindergarten. I've decided that listing ALL the insults thrown at me there weekly would a) take too long and b) become slightly monotonous for you. I mean, how much innocently related meanness can one take before it desensitizes you completely?

So yesterday's winner:

Oh, first I should mention that I just made my hair curly yesterday because it takes less time and there's no point in straightening your hair for a bunch of 4 year olds.... But I like it curly. I think it looks good. Or at least ... I thought ...

Ok, so the prize goes to Lena, a feisty little 4 year old (the girl who told me it's not hard to find a husband...)

Lena: "What's wrong with your hair? It looks silly."

... Lena turns to another toddler friend and says, in her most grown-up snob voice: "she didn't even comb her hair today."

I'll be honest folks, I don't know how much more of this my rapidly deflating self-esteem can take.... :P

On the upside... 6 more days til EASTER HOLIDAYS!!!

Other than that, not much to report. The weather is absolutely fabulous. 15-17 degree weather, completely sunny and gorgeous. Not a cloud in the sky. Sandals are officially out of the closet. Long-sleeves have been relegated to the deepest darkest depths of their drawers. And besides my regular school stuff I'm desperately trying to translate the Eilenburg website as quickly as possible. Could really use the moolah for travelling in June. I think I'm about a third done. Or at least, that's what I tell myself...

Oh, and did I mention that its FREAKING HOT outside??? :P Seriously, shorts weather, ppl. I think I'm gonna read in the garden when I get home from school today. SWEET.

Um, Zoe, I'm home this afternoon if you wanna call. I'm only leaving for my friend's place tomorrow morning. :)

All My Children **title not meant literally

I feel like I'm in a soap opera: you don't watch for a week you can be guaranteed that the next time you tune in everyone will be married to their ex's brother's cousin's granddaughter's twin-sister ... who had a sex change while the actress was on maternity leave (read: frantically trying-to-get-rid-of-pregnancy-induced-muffin-top leave ... which wasn't successful -> hence actress was replaced by Antonio Banderas wannabe because a size 4 soap actress is unaccaptable) and suddenly reappeared as a very sensitive, effeminate, yet passionate Spaniard with a pencil-thin pedophilic moustache. (Don't ask me where that sentence came from. My head? Not a chance!) Seriously, you could just film the going-ons (or is it 'goings-on' ... I never quite know...) at the Tausendfuehler kindergarten and completely eliminate the overblown costs of crappy soap actors.

Yes, you've guessed it, things have developed since the last time you heard about the pre-school romances. Isn't there a soap called "all my children"? That's what they should rename the kindergarten. Anywho, so this week Eric and Elizabeth had nothing to do with one another anymore. No more secret hand-holding or stolen makeout sessions. Nope, Eric went cradle-robbing. That's right, he traded in his willowy true-and-faithful for a golden-haired trophy girlfriend (Coralee) and a honey-brown cheeky little mistress (Hannah). And they know about each other! In fact they traded turns kissing the guy! So all you men who are convinced your innermost fantasies can't come true ... think again! What is this world coming to ...

Ha, for those of you wondering, by the way, what the most flattering way to measure age might be, look no further! You no longer need to disclose telling numbers or frightening figures. Lynn demonstrated the new and improved method for me this afternoon. She was telling me about her family and when she got around to her grandmother she said: "my oma, she is...(**short pensive pause**)...she is THIS old", spanning her spindly little arms as far as they would go. ... Or wait, is that an UNFLATTERING way to portray age??? Hmmm.

As they say ... From the mouths (or arms, in this case) of babes...

And to end on a serious note. I have come to realize in the past month that there is no feeling comparable to the love of a child. Nothing. My hands are never empty. There are always five sticky, but warm, fingers gently pushing their way into my palms, pulling my hands to their faces, just so they can feel me close to them. There are always a dozen bobbing heads awaiting the slight, gentle stroke of my fingers, two dozen eyes searching my face for an approving smile, and countless limbs clammering to grab onto my legs. So while they fight and bicker about who gets to sit with me at the table and have absolutely LIMITLESS amounts of energy that manage to have me exhausted by lunchtime, all they have to do is come up from behind and give me a hug for the world to resume spinning in the right direction.

Sappy Julia over and out.

TELL ME WHY!

Could someone, preferrably of the male variety, please explain to me why guys' brains are wired to think that honking at a girl will impress her; make her fall at his feet (or tires, i guess); make her feel like a treasured, intelligent, validated, and interesting human being? Do we have "honk if you think i'm pretty" stamped on our foreheads in invisible, only-readable-by-XY-chromosome-carrying-neanderthals ink???



What brought about this outburst you ask? Yesterday I was honked at twice while biking home from school. It was pouring rain. I freaking nearly fell off my bike. Both times. First of all, what about my drenched-rat-look could possibly be misconstrued as "attractive"??? As far as I'm concerned the only person who ever tolerably pulled off that look was Audrey Hepburn in "Breakfast at Tiffany's".

(I mean, did you actually LOOK at Kirsten Dunst in that whacko upside-down kissing scene in Spiderman? Not a good look.) Second of all, it's blinkin' dangerous! I nearly died. Twice. By almost swerving into traffic cuz of some stupid can't-quite-bring-myself-to-leave-puberty-behind adult morons. And thirdly it just plain old makes me self-conscious: did I lose a shoe? forget my pants? is my hair sticking straight up? is there a hole in some piece of clothing that is meant to cover something...important?



So this is my message to all the men out there: Don't honk at strange girls. First of all, it's immature. Second, it's degrading. And third, it's life-threatening.
(or at the very least don't honk at girls riding bikes.)

well...hey...it was funny to me

Haha. This is going to be so short I'm not even sure it was worth the time it took to sign into my blogger account but whatevs.

So when I log into my hotmail account it always brings me to this start page with just general info about my account. And one of those little info points is the day that I created my hotmail account. Well, today my hotmail account wished me a happy 2nd anniversary. Like, it actually says "Happy 2nd Anniversary!" with a little rainbow and shooting stars next to the date. That's right, 2 years ago to the day I created jdhiebertAThotmailDOTcom. And we've been livin' the high life ever since. I'm one lucky woman...

Hey, don't judge me. If I can't get a man (not including any and all pervs who invite me to join them for nasty train bathroom quickies...see this post if you're confused by that sentence), at least I can get an e-mail account that stays true to me. Or is junk mail the cyberspace version of cheating? Cuz if it is ... my email account is a real player and is treating me like dirt! Shoot I have one skeezy internet relationship! I mean, I don't even have any other e-mail accounts! I'm fricking faithful!

I have to go yell at my inbox now. Maybe throw some suitcases at it and tell it to get out...

Smell ya later!

P.S. So I guess the post wasn't quite as short as I was expecting it to be. Somehow my original two sentences turned into...18...

It's like a bad Rob Schneider movie...another one...

Disclaimer: This note is a little exaggerated due to my one-of-a-kind rock-your-freaking-socks sense of humour. AHAHAHAHAHA. ok, now that we've all had a good laugh....seriously, tho. If you're a guy don't take this COMPLETELY literally. I only include 99% of you in the following description. Chances are, if you're a friend of mine, you belong to the 1% exception category...Consider yourselves lucky...



So tonight I was propositioned. On the train. Ok, well, maybe propositioned isn't the right word. But let's just say it was made clear that some guys thought it would be pretty cool if I was up for a little ... fun ... with them. I mean, not in a scary way, like I was afraid they would do something to me against my will. Just in gross, pervy, funny-to-them, hoping-to-get-lucky way. So like, I wasn't scared of them or anything, I was just ... well, ew.


Then they decided they would settle for my phone number. But I just pretended I couldn't hear them through my headphones and walked past.


Whenever this happens, though, I honest to goodness want to sit down with them for an earnest little chat. And I would ask: WHAT ON EARTH MAKES YOU THINK THAT ANY SPECIMEN OF THE SOBER / MENTALLY SOUND / HUMAN FEMALE POPULATION WOULD ACTUALLY CONSIDER HAVING CRAMPED CREEPY SEX IN A FILTHY GERM- (AND MOST LIKELY SYPHILLIS) INFESTED TRAIN BATHROOM PAINTED IN THE MOST HIDEOUS SHADE OF TEAL KNOWN TO MANKIND (seriously...all train bathrooms are that colour...and I have no idea who that chick is in the picture...I just found it on the Internet...) ???? OH YA ... AND WITH A COMPLETE AND TOTAL STRANGER? I mean, has this worked for them before? Has this worked for ANYONE before???? Has any girl actually ever said, "Why most kind and chivalrous sir, your charming and generous flattery overwhelms...nay, beguiles me. I would be most delighted to oblige you ...in fact I find your request not only appropriate but feel a great honour has been bestowed upon me and I will do my darndest to make sure your desires become mind-blowing reality poste haste. Let me just get rid of these pesky, restricting non-stretch jeans, with their unforgiving, confining waistband and obnoxiously time-consuming button-and-zipper combo, for your easy-access-convenience." Or did I just not appear terribly sober... or mentally sound... or human... or all three previously mentioned characteristics. At least, their powers of deduction were fine-tuned enough to recognize I'm a female...


I honestly want to know! I mean, is there something about my knee-length down-filled winter jacket that, unbeknownst to me, screams "me=skank! take me! i want you i need you o baby o baby"??????????


I mean, one can practically see them snorting, snuffing, panting, and pawing the ground like a bunch of penned bulls in the springtime. Assuming for a moment I didn't think Darwin was full of manure: When did evolution start to work backwards? Are we reverting to Neanderthal...ism? Will animals one day be more sophisticated than humans? If so, should we look into legalizing dog-human marriages? Cuz I often preferred the company of my golden retriever to many .... 'men'... (too bad she WAS a SHE....)

2 things i know you were all dying to hear...

Taught a gr. 6 and a gr. 5 class by myself today. Was so fun. Plus my usual gr. 11 class. That one wasn't as great cuz I had four new students this time so we kind of had to hurriedly go through what we did last class again and so it was kind of a flustered annoying class, but whatevs. Next week'll be better. All in all, though, it was a good day. I'm starting to get the hang of all this teaching stuff. Woohoo!

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On to more important things than my future:

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1) I have now been on the longest train platform in Germany. Actually more like froze my butt off for half an hour while waiting for my connecting train. Said train platform is in Gößnitz. I'm pretty sure that's the only thing worth mentioning in that town...

I was sitting on the far right where the blonde chick is ->

The sign says "we welcome you on the longest train platform in Germany!" How exciting...

2) Remember that bottle of ketchup I bought on my first day here in Eilenburg... in September? Well, I opened it for the first time last Thursday! Gasp! I can see the jaws of all friends and family members who know of my 21-year-long unfaltering dependence on ketchup falling to the floor at the mere thought of me not having used my version of crack-cocaine (seriously, I would shoot up with a needle if my veins had taste buds...) since September! Well, let me just calm your tattered nerves. I have used ketchup, just not in my apartment. I don't really cook much meat other than ground beef for spaghetti sauce, and I haven't made any potatoes yet, so I haven't actually needed ketchup. (I'm such a pasta freak. And in my EXPERT opinion ketchup does NOT belong on noodles.) I was kind of shocked myself, at how long I made it without. I have eaten ketchup on weekends when I've been at other peoples' houses, so I wasn't going through complete withdrawal. Plus my Miracle Whip addiction is still goin' strong. Anyways, I visually chronicled the momentous, nay, ceremonious Ketchup-Bottle-Opening to make sure you would not miss out on all the excitement. I nearly fogged up my windows in my tomato-y-goodness anticipation!

Is that pathetic?

Doesn't matter.

I find ways to amuse myself.

I'm gonna be one crazy old spinster!!! Yay!

Endless Devotion

Poetic balm for a literature student (i kind of hate the word balm...sounds lame, doesn't it?...)

That could be my best blog title to date. You may not believe this, as the evidence for the following statement might not appear to overwhelmingly agree with your idea of "significant amount of thought", but I usually put a significant amount of thought into my blog entry titles. Today's is an A+ in my books. But I have strange books

Hia. So it's been a few days...let me think...what's been going on?
Um, I definitely made that omelet I wrote about on Monday. Mushrooms, ham, onions, eggs.
It was tasty.

You still there?


Ok, so seriously, life update time. Um, Tuesday was another day of school. Taught the grade 11s on my own for the first time. There were, like, 10 people signed up but only 3 girls from the one gr. 11 class actually showed. So I was very confused. And then I found out today that there had been another 4 students...waiting for me in the wrong room! Their teacher had given them the incorrect information. Oh well, it all got cleared up today. It was a few of the kids from the English class I have Thursday mornings. I've mentioned them a few times to you already - they're the ones I really really like. Today I just walked around from group to group as they worked on projects and that makes it a lot easier to kind of get "better acquainted" or whatever. We laughed a lot, which is usually a good sign, right? :) Plus they can speak to me in German and I actually understand everything, unlike most other foreign language assistants, which really speeds up the ice-breaking process.

Yesterday was really cool. It was a holiday here in Saxony so I spent the day at Konny's (you know, the teacher I've mentioned a couple times - get along with her splendidly...lol...can you tell I'm spending too much time around people who speak British English?) So she picked me up around 8:30 am and took me to her house in Bad Düben, which is a small city (pop. app. 8000) near Eilenburg. It is GORGEOUS! So quaint and adorable! I wish I lived there. lol. Anyways, so we went to her house (and they actually have a large yard and garden! I didn't even know that existed in Germany!) where I got the tour and we just chatted. Then we corrected some exams and tests for a few hours, with a nice little lunch break where I was served a cooked vegetable (among other things of course) that I actually like! They're called "schwarze wurzeln" which means "black roots". But they're white.

Hey, I'm only half-German AND I didn't name them, so don't look at me.

Anyways, it's pretty much a sign that the rapture is near at hand when I like any form of cooked vegetation, so you might wanna start spending all your money frivolously and working on your "things to do before I die...or get beamed into heaven" list. P.S. If you can't spend your $ fast enough call me up and I'll give you my account info...

So after we finished our work we drank many many cups of coffee, ate some typical German cake and Christmas Lebkuchen (YUMMY), chatted some MORE (I love hearing her mom's Cold War stories), and eventually strapped on our boots for an afternoon of exploring in Bad Düben. :) An old castle, a tree-lined lane, cobblestone market places, and beautifully restored German architecture. A cold, windy, grey day; but I LOVE those kind of days. When every tree is bare and the wind bites at the few areas of exposed skin as you set your face against the elements and kick your way through a carpet of brown, red, and orange. When the sky matches the colour of the pavement barely visible under a layer of mildly decaying leaves, giving off an intoxicating musty and rainy, yet familiar and oh-so-pleasant smell. When you not only revel in battling the forces of nature outside, but can also look forward to entering a warm house (not mine, obviously...Konny's...), eating a warm meal, perhaps reading a good book that promises to whisk you away as fast as your eyes can move from line to line, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket with a candle burning dimly nearby...and preferably another cup of coffee. Those are fabulous days. Fairy tale days. Getting-lost-in-the-endlessly-creative-depths-of-my-imagination days. Days when I feel so alive and yet so desperately human. Days that should really never find a tomorrow.

I mean, what could be better than getting lost in the forest only to finally arrive at your desired destination, which turns out to be more beautiful and breath-taking than you even expected? A giant cliff of red earth jutting out over a swiftly moving river far below, spinning off into a dark horizon as the autumn afternoon winds down to an early blackness - a perfect, eerie blackness.

We spent the evening with a leisurely supper, where I also met her husband, Dirk, who works in the army...something with airplanes or whatever... Exchanged music, books, movies (I'm gonna give 'em some Matt Good... :)) and drank more coffee. Espresso to be exact. Which, in hindsight, explains my chipper wakefulness when I went to bed. But whatevs. Coffee is always worth it. :D

So ya. That was my day yesterday. It may not sound like much, but it was idyllic to me. There are few things that I describe as "romantic" - at least in a good non-mushy-Walk-To-Remember-movie-crappiness kind of way - and days like these are just one of them. Like a setting out of a Dickens novel. Sigh.

Why am I feeling so sappy and poetic today? I need to watch Fightclub or something...Oh wait...I LEFT IT IN CANADA.

Ok, and here we're gonna make a quick jump to some random Julia thoughts. This may require a strong cup of java...for you, of course, not me...I'm used to it after almost 22 years...

Random Thought #1) I got an email from the University of Manitoba today. Why is this worth mentioning, you ask? Well it was an ALUMNI email. I was like, "this can't be right...They have me on the wrong emailing list." And then I realized that I actually belong on this list! I graduated! From a university! (How irresponsible of them, don't ya think?...) That means I'm technically a university alumni...or alumnus...or whatever the singular form is. I don't feel like looking it up right now but I'm sure my dad will inform me... Wow, and I studied English??? Anyways, it still feels wrong. I mean, first of all, I'm going back to school next year, and second, I'M PLAIN OL' NOT OLD ENOUGH! Am I?

Random Thought #2) Today I was asked to look over and correct some text that had been translated from German to English (person shall remain nameless) and the German phrase for flax field had been translated as "field of rape". I nearly choked on a slice of orange. At least I really really really hope that that 'translation' was a mistake... :P

Oh, will not be home again this weekend. Train ride tomorrow! Yay. I mean, I've been on countless trains since I got here and I still get all excited... Go figure. Apparently it doesn't take much to please me. Dip pretty much anything in chocolate and you should be safe. Hmmmm....chocolate covered train....I need to talk to someone about this...immediately. And about how easily I get sidetracked ... by my own rabbit trails.

Smell ya later.

Blowing gaskets and fuses, choking on spit...what else on a Thursday?

So today started off yucky. Actually, come to think of it, every Thursday starts off yucky. Wanna know why? Do ya? Do ya? Do ya? IT'S CUZ MY ALARM RINGS AT 5:30AM. Now I realize that many of you reading this will feel the immediate impulse to respond with "that's nothing...I get up that early every day!" Several of you are mothers, which means you have to get up when the little noises in the next room start to become loud non-sleep-through-able noises. And some of you, like my sister Rebekah, are even mothers of newborns, which means you get far too little sleep as it is! Then there are those of you who have jobs that simply require you to be up oober early (aka. James)...In any case, that is not the point. The point is that I really do detest my Thursday morning wake-up call. Mainly cuz it means that it's still dark outside and my apartment is FREEZING cuz I turn the heat off at night. It's just a dismal combination to wake up to. Plus the weather out here has been the absolute pits this week! Complete grey cloud cover and wet fog every day. Not cold, though, thankfully.

So as I was saying, the day started off yucky with the urge-to-throw-clock-against-wall-inducing "beep, Beep, BEEP" in my ear and a shower in a frigid bathroom (imagine walk-in fridge...). Then I ate chocolate cereal, which made my day slightly better. Thankfully it wasn't raining on my way to school, which was another bonus. 15 minutes of riding your bike in the rain is...well...the opposite of enjoyable. Anywho, thankfully Thursday is my favourite day in terms of school, cuz it's 2 hours with the grade 11s, who are majoring in English. Meaning they're quite advanced and it's a small group. But the real reason I love it is the teacher. Her name is Konny and I absolutely love her and how she teaches! We get along so freaking well and are always just talking and talking when we meet up. If I had annoying grade 7s after getting up at 5:30am I'd probably blow a gasket....or a fuse....or both. I'm not a mechanic and I'm sleep-deprived. Leave me alone.

Anyways, so now I'm finally getting around to why I started this post in the first place. All the stuff I just wrote wasn't actually part of the plan. Just kind of spilled out. Sorry.

So, 1 cool thing: it turns out Konny can pick me up before and take me home again after class on Thursdays! YAY! That means at least I don't have to ride my bike to school in the dark and potentially icky weather! The other days it's ok cuz my classes start later but Thursdays have now just become a whole lot more appealing! I won't have to plan my hairstyle according to the weather forecast (for Thursdays at least) anymore... :P

And 1 funny thing: Konny totally wants me to marry someone out here and stay in Germany. I almost choked on my own spit when I found out WHO my future German hubby is supposed to be...and no I'm not telling you. Who knows, it could happen, right?! Lol. Doubt it, though. And don't worry, mom, your spaghetti sauce and pumpkin pie totally outweigh any potential German marriage material...at this point anyways. :)

Hope you all have a grand Thursday. Right now ya'll are still snoring away, except for possibly Rebekah M or Ruth or whoever else reading my blog with a little one :), so that's a good start!

Oh and here are some more random pics for those interested...
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=81672&l=4b7d7&id=573967603

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Oh Happy Day

Now why would I give today, a completely normal hum-drum Tuesday, such an exuberant and vivacious title, you ask. I mean, it's the very title of one of my all-time favourite songs that I frequently dance in my skivvies to when nobody's around...which is obviously quite often these days as I'm living on my own...ANYWAYS...it's quite simple. I saw three pick-up trucks today! Two of them were old and getting rusty, but, I mean still, that's got to be an all-time record here in Germany. Where did they come from, you say?

WHO CARES?

I'm just happy to see one now and again. :)

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The Germans may keep bashing us for our typically-American-environment-killing-thinking-only-of-ourselves-truck-driving ways for all I care. I still love a good truck. And so practical! I mean, imagine, for example, James E. lugging his two tons of tools and equipment for carpentry work around...on the train? I don't THINK so people! Obviously impossible. We just do a whole lot more heavy lugging, heaving, transporting, conveying, and toting out in good old North America. What can I say??? We're a hands-on outdoor-working kind of people, eh? :D The Germans just don't know what they're missing...if they started driving pick-ups they wouldn't so easily give them up either... :P

Look dad, I even went to the trouble of finding a GM truck picture. :) :) xoxo

Where are the 'Mephitis mephitis'?

You wanna know what I just realized this week when we were driving home from the opera? I haven't seen one single piece of roadkill on the side of the road since I've gotten to Germany. Not a deer, rabbit, badger, fox, weasel, hedgehog ... not even a bird! I suddenly couldn't think of anything else! I mean, how on earth does that work? This country is 27 times smaller than ours, yet contains nearly three times the amount of people! That means (roughly) three times the amount of cars in a ridiculously minuscule space. This should = freaking tons of roadkill, shouldn't it?


I mean, I spend spring, summer, and fall in Canada counting the occurrences of roadkill on my way to and from work/school to pass the time. I've seen several deer carcasses get to a retch-inducing point of decay before someone finally realized that their job was to REMOVE those things from the road...I can see it now: "oh THAT'S where my pay cheque comes from..." At one point this last spring there were seven mauled skunks in numerous twisted positions and at various stages of decomposition just on the stretch of highway to university. I mean, I could have written an A+ worthy Bio paper on "The common battered and mangled Expiration and consequent Degeneration of the Manitoba Mephitis mephitis (thank you Google...)" just from driving past these skunks on a daily basis. So that got me thinking...what could possibly be the reason for the lack of flattened fresh-to-rotting red, white, and brown meat on German roadsides? I came up with 3 possibilities that I consider quite plausible.


1) Quite understandably Germans have to go through a much more intensive and comprehensive "driver's ed". So perhaps they are simply much better drivers and just never hit any animals due to renowned German perfectionism and highly evolved bobcat-like reflexes with the steering wheel and brake pedal. (Plus their cars are so dang small it's probably nearly impossible to hit anything with them anyways. I seriously need to see a pick-up soon or I might get all claustrophobic and freak out...)


2) Or maybe Germany is just busting at the seams with people (even with the negative birth rate) to the point that there is simply no more room for wildlife and all the bunnies and bambis have had to seek asylum in France, Switzerland, Denmark and the Czech Republic. Hey, it could happen!


3) My final and, in my opinion, most plausible hypothesis: German efficiency has once again shown its indomitable flawlessness and superiority in the form of little German men, dressed in black lederhosen (of course) to avoid being spotted, sitting behind every bush, bramble, hedge, thicket, and shrubbery (thank you Monty Python) to contiguously (yes, that is a word...) take care of those little road-side inconveniences that might cast a doubting shadow on German impeccability, which the world has so indubitably come to depend on.

P.S. HAPPY WEDDING DAY ERIC AND MEL. XOXOXOXOXO. HOPE IT'S THE BEST DAY EVER!!! WISH I WAS THERE TO SHARE IN THE EATING OF PIZZA AND DRINKING OF COCA-COLA. :P

I Proclaim Parents Day!

Yay! My best friend from the years when I lived in Germany, Elisabeth, is coming to visit me this weekend! She left for Africa (practicum) shortly before I arrived in Germany, so this will be the first time we have seen one another in 5 years! I am beyond ecstatic.

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But now the actual reason I wanted to blog today...

Warning: This note is meant to be facetious and ironic. Don't get your panties all twisted in a knot about my apparent ignorance! :)

I've started realizing that along with the freedoms of living alone come certain responsibilitIES. I mean, I've always known that. But here is a list of things that don't suddenly and miraculously happen on their own. Maybe one needs to rent a more expensive apartment for these things to take care of themselves??? Oh wait, I think that's called a HOTEL.



- the garbage just piles up beside my door. what? there are bins outside that I need to CARRY it out to? you've got to be kidding me...



- contrary to popular belief a microwave is not the only kitchen appliance needed in the grand world of meal preparation. In order for you to even have leftovers to heat up, you need to first make a meal "from scratch" (Julia's translation: from a box. It's just not very fun cooking for one person).



- my clothes no longer magically appear neatly folded in a basket on my bedroom floor. shocker!



- in the past, when my computer decided to be a big ole ******, I would just complain incessantly for a few days, my computer would somehow disappear into the deep dark depths of my dad's office (for what reason? i never understood...), only to suddenly reappear in perfectly restored condition. go figure!



- the bills that appear in front of my apartment door have....what? my name on them? ALL OF THEM? this must be a mistake... rent? utilities? i need a dictionary...



- fridges don't self-replenish? so when i feel hungry in the evening and stare into the yawning void that is my cupboard it's my fault?



NOTE TO ALL OF YOU MOTHERLY TYPES WITH FINGERS POISED, READY TO POUNCE UPON MY STUPIDITY: Please refer back to preceding warning about facetious...ness? and irony. What I'm trying to say is that all of this kind of only truly sinks in once you actually have to do it all yourself, no matter how much head knowledge you have beforehand.


I am proclaiming October 2nd Realizing-How-Awesome-Your-Parents-Are Day. I appreciate my mom and dad, and all that they've done for me over the past 21 years, more than ever before. (Please note that the aforementioned sarcasm does not apply to this paragraph.) Am already anticipating the day I get to fill my belly with mom's homemade spaghetti sauce. :)

The Schwaben should have their own little planet...

Prologue: Schwäbisch is a German dialect. Best dialect in the world, by the way. I spent the evening yesterday with my aunt and some relatives of my uncle (Gabi and Manfred, for those who know them) and couldn’t stop laughing, just cuz the way this dialect sounds is absolutely hilarious and the Schwaben always get so worked up about nothing, argue about everything, and spend most of their time complaining about the state of the world, calling everything and everyone “bekloppt”. It’s like the funniest form of pessimism in the world. Must be where I got my ranting skills from. :) I don’t think I’ve heard as many domestic squabbles in my entire life combined as I’ve been subjected to in the last two days here - after a while it's not even awkward anymore. Fortunately it seems that the longer people here are married the faster their memory tends to go downhill, so most disagreements are forgotten before the end of the argument; consequently no one knows what the problem was in the first place and peaceful marital bliss sets in once again…for a few moments, anyway. Whenever my mom wants to cheer me up she just says something in “schwäbisch” and all is right with the world again. Literally the best dialect of all times.

Fact: I’m definitely back with my “schwäbische” relatives. Wanna know how I know?



No? Well, I'm gonna tell you anyway.

1) My aunt (Tante Edda) and uncle (Onkel Roland) picked me up from the train station on Monday afternoon, we drove to their house in Öschelbronn, and I was immediately served a giant plate of homemade “Spätzle” and “Goulasch”. I had not even taken three bites when I looked up to see my 70-year-old uncle had already dropped his pants to show me his purple leg, bruised from top to bottom from a water-skiing incident in Italy last week. I almost choked on a noodle.

2) Yesterday for lunch my aunt made those really thin crepe-like pancakes filled with fried mushrooms plus a side-salad. I ate two, which is usually already my max. But then she made some filled with fried onions, so obviously, being the onion freak that I am, I accepted a third plateful. Well, now there was still a pancake left over, and she of course can’t stand it when there’s just a little bit of food sitting in the bowl/pan/pot – evidence that she and my mother definitely share some part of their genetic codes. But Onkel Roland didn’t want a whole pancake anymore either. So she said she’d fill it with mushrooms again and cut it in half for us to share. I immediately protested cuz I was so blinking full. Naturally, being Tante Edda, she ignored me and went about her pancake-fixing business. I just thought to myself, “She can bring it, but I won’t eat it.” Everyone who knows my aunt is now shaking their head at my ignorantly useless intentions: I really should have known better. The only person who can possibly successfully refuse/oppose a Schwab is another Schwab. Well, I am only half-Schwab, blood diluted from the paternal Canadian “influence”, hence the end of the story… Tante Edda came out of the kitchen and, amidst quite vocal protests on my part and several attempts to explain the meaning of the sentence “Ich bin satt” (translation: I am full), scooped the food onto my plate. Was I speaking German? I’m pretty freaking 102 % sure, but heck, I’ve been wrong before.
I told her that I needed dad to fly out for the next two weeks cuz whenever she needed to get rid of the last bit of breakfast/lunch/supper during our time in Germany years ago she would just shove it all onto my dad’s plate, who, unfortunately for him but fortunately for the rest of us, doesn’t have any of the Schwab-blood. After a year or two he didn’t even object anymore. His spirit had been broken. There was no point. Yesterday I learned the same lesson. I am back in Schwabenland. And I love it.

I could have gone my whole life without seeing that...

I took this pic today after a really weird rainstorm. It was the most incredible rainbow I've ever seen.

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What a day! Actually, it was quite uneventful until the late afternoon. Shaved my legs, ate a salami pizza for lunch (the equivalent of a pepperoni pizza in Canada), played around on the computer, watched some Olympic fencing and....ping pong? Like, what the? Did they know that no one would be watching the Olympics on August 13, hence all the boring "sports"? And if this offends you please don't write me any nasty comments explaining your opinions on what makes something a sport. This is MY blog and in MY opinion ping pong should not be in the Olympics. And neither should shooting a pistol at a target. Even fencing barely makes the cut, as far as I'm concerned. SO THERE. Go pout about my ignorance on your own blog.



Ah! You have decided to keep on reading DESPITE my little temper tantrum. Well, you win the prize, because today really was a GEM. At four o'clock Irene (the super nice horse lady I wrote about a few days ago; in the pic on the left) picked us up in front of Maike's house for a few hours at the stables. Maike was supposed to be getting a riding lesson from her. However, once we got to the stables it turned out that one of Irene's horses, Hera, was sick - CHOLIC. The scary horse ailment. Now, I'm no horse expert. In fact, if you wanna get technical, I'm probably more of a horse idiot (I love horses and I love riding them, but I really KNOW next to nothing about them). But even I could tell that Hera was not feeling well AT ALL. She kept wanting to lie down, which is apparently one of the signs of cholic. She kept turning her head towards her hurting stomach and she was breathing 80/min...aka WAY TOO FAST. And then she would just stand there all pitiful-like and hang her head, almost leaning against Irene. Imagine a giant mare, a few horseshoes short of one ton, leaning against you. Yeesh. Anyways, basically Irene told me cholic is bascially really bad gas getting stuck in the horse's intestine. And apparently the horse will get itself all excited (in a bad way...) about the pain, which just makes it all worse. Then they lie down and basically suffocate themselves to death. Doesn't that sound terrible? Death by indigestion? Basically, they had to make sure that Hera didn't lie down. So, after calling the vet, Irene and Susi took her into the arena to walk around and keep her moving. Maike got Traki ready and just went riding in the arena on her own instead of getting an actual formal lesson from Irene. And on the way to the hall, guess what I saw! A HORSE ON A TREADMILL. THEY MAKE HORSE TREADMILLS. At least, I'm assuming it was a treadmill made especially for horses. I can't imagine what size of human being might require a machine of that magnitude. But seriously, it was the funniest thing I have ever seen. I don't even think you can comprehend how comical it looked without seeing it in person. It's like watching one of those movies where all the animals talk and act like people. Veggie Tales, but replace the veggies with barnyard animals. Ok, bad analogy. But seriously. I can just picture this horse running on the tread mill, saying to itself, "I CAN DO IT. 20 more minutes, 20 more minutes .... must ... lose ... 5 ... more ... pounds. Must...fit...into...that...HOT NEW LEATHER SADDLE!!! Ow, cramp, need...Vitamin-enriched...mineral....water. NOW!" So that was the first strange thing of my day.

I sat at the front of the arena to watch Maike and I felt so bad for poor Hera. She looked so miserable! Especially with all the happy horses exercising in the arena around her. And then...drumroll please, Jordan...the vet entered. This is when my day really took a turn for the...uh...stranger. So, he walked over to Irene and Hera, stuck a thermometer in her rear end (HERA'S OF COURSE, YOU SILLY PEOPLE) and stood there for a while. I was like, "well, that's a little awkward. Poor Hera." But whatevs, it's just a skinny little thermometer. Then he did some more check-up stuff. You know, the usual, stethoscope, checking eyes, blah blah blah. So I turned my attention to Maike, who was still riding Traki around. Ok, now remember, poor Hera was just standing there in the middle of the arena. Other people riding around her, more people just watching like me from the sidelines. That's when Mr. Vet pulled out this long plastic bag thingy. Like, long. And then he started putting his right arm into it ... And suddenly my attention was once again turned fully towards the chronicles of a sick horse. I mean, I had an inkling. But I thought, "surely not. Not in front of everyone. In the middle of the arena. IN FRONT OF MY VIRGIN EYES." Oh, oh folks. HE DID. He deflowered my innocent sensibilities. Now I know that some of you probably don't find this so gross. Auntie Kathy, Kara, and Shelly, you guys lived on a dairy farm. You've seen things come out of the back of a cow that I can't even fathom. And others of you just aren't bothered by this (I'm guessing: dad, Auntie Helena, Tim, maybe Rebekah M...I dunno.) In fact, perhaps it's just me who would get all traumatized at this point. But I'm a LOWLY English major, as my siblings like to remind me every so often. I dissect unimportant poetry, not indispensible life-preserving body parts. So, for those of you who might not have clued in yet, he pulled the plastic bag up, up, up his arm, all the way to the shoulder. Then he took this giant white squeeze bottle and poured a bunch of stuff into the plastic-covered hand. I'M ASSUMING A LUBRICANT OF SOME SORT. AT LEAST I CERTAINLY HOPE SO, for the horse's sake. And then he stuck his arm up. Up. Up THERE. Like, honestly. Do I have to say it? Ok, I'll say it. Up the bum. Let me repeat. He stuck his arm up the horse's bum IN FRONT OF ME. Did I mention already that he did it right in front of me? So in he went. About half-way up the forearm. Then he pulled it out and dropped a bunch of crap on the ground. Literally. So I thought, ok, well, my pizza is still INSIDE MY stomach and I'd prefer to keep it there. Just cuz the horse's intestines aren't doing too hot doesn't mean mine have the green light to go all screwy. So I've got that going for me. And now...ah yes, it's over. Oh goody.

Well, let me just tell you I was quite mistaken. Oh, I have rarely been so frighteningly mistaken. He went in for more. This time just past the elbow. And I'm starting to squirm in my chair. Let me just say, the horse hasn't even FLINCHED yet. I'm sorry, but I would notice an arm up my butt. I would, I'm quite sure of it. No, I'm gonna be bold here and say I'M CERTAIN OF IT. So then he pulled his arm back out and released another handful of half-baked feces. So now, I'm feeling, pizza is really threatening to make a grand reappearance. But it's over now. Right? Heck NO. This vet apparently wasn't satisfied. I was beginning to think he was enjoying himself. I mean, I know it's a chilly day and it must be warm in there, but come on. There are much more ... hygenic ... less ... VOMIT-INDUCING ways to get rid of goosebumps. A blanket? Car heater? Walking over hot coals? I'm just saying...

Ok, so dive # 3. All the way up to the shoulder this time - and let me just quickly mention at this point this it doesn't just nicely slide on up there. There is thrusting involved. And he stays up there for quite a while. I actually started to feel physical pain for poor Hera. Yet, horse still not even moving. I mean, how does the flash of a camera or a spontaneous burst of laughter scare the proverbial PANTS off of a horse, but sticking an entire limb up its behind doesn't even warrant a well-placed kick to your head?

Well, I’m happy to report that the pizza decided its reappearance might not be as pleasurable an experience as its ingestion so we were all good on that front. But still. EW. I CAN’T STRESS THAT POINT ENOUGH. EW. And by the way, do you have any idea what it looks like when you pull your hand back out? Something to consider if you haven't ever before...I'M SO FUNNY. Strangely enough no one else in the arena seemed to find this seemingly never-ending process very note worthy. I'm guessing all these horse-people had seen it a few times before. Or, like I said earlier, I'm just super sensitive to seeing arms up butts.

Then the vet came back with a relatively harmless-looking needle, which he proceeded to stick into the thick, muscled neck of brave Hera. But this time she noticed. Eyes got wide, neck lurched. I wanted to walk over, slap her across the face, and inform/remind her that she just had half a human inside her bowels. How can she plausibly expect me to believe that this eeny weeny needle was bothering her? Again, I reiterate – I AM NO HORSE EXPERT. But if I had to choose between a needle and a colonoscopy, I’m fairly certain THERE WOULD BE NO HESITATION. "You can shoot a needle arsenal into me from 10 feet away (like Grindhouse!) with your eyes closed, Mr. Doctor! Just PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don’t bring out the arm-length plastic sleeve and giant white squeeze bottle!"

So how was your day?

back so soon you say?

I realize that I just posted an entry...about 3 hours ago...but I just found this blog and thought it was hilarious! http://lovelylisting.blogspot.com/ Especially the post on August 6th called "How I spent my Summer Vacation". Go there! NOW. I COMMAND YOU.