Frühling Melancholy

I don't really know which season is my favorite.  I like having distinct and definable seasons, of that much I'm sure, but which one puts in the most time filling up my soul is debatable.  Each season has something to recommend it.

Summer is lovely and warm and, no matter how many years I have been out of school, always feels a bit like a holiday.  Evenings last forever and I never feel too awful about getting out of bed earlier than usual because the sun is always there to greet me and promise me that it will be a good, long, and productive day.

Autumn is simply stunning.  No other death scene can compare to that which Autumn plays for us time and time again.  Each year I am witness to an Autumn I fall in love with the endlessly varying colors and  am overwhelmed by the simultaneously dry and moist smell of the leaves after they've fallen and become party-colored crisps on the ground, waiting to be turned into the fertilizer that is their destiny.  I well up when I witness the way the sunlight slants low through the trees and sets the world on fire.  I welcome the nip in the air that takes me by surprise and sends me running back inside for a jacket.  If Autumn were human he would be a Vermont woodsman and I surely would have married him years ago.

Spring is like a really good stretch.  It starts out slowly, a slight twisting of the arms and back perhaps, but leads into a great, big, full body, all consuming affair that takes control and kick starts the life back into you.  Like Autumn, it smells of leaves and wet, but under those smells is something a bit more, something that tickles the nose like the threat of a sneeze and in that last moment, just when you think you will be fine, explodes outward into a cacophony.  Spring is a riot of nature, unstoppable and awesome in its power while concurrently mellow and sweet.  It is a season contradictory unto itself.

Winter, a proper Winter, is cold.  This deceptively avuncular season, when viewed from inside one's home, says "Come outside and enjoy me in all of my frosty glory.  Witness my icy blue skies and my pale yellow sunlight."  But when you succumb to the beauty without and decide to brave what must surely be a reasonable temperature, Winter turns on you like a Santa Claus with what appears to be a bag of goodies but is only a multitude of coal.  And yet the nature lover still cannot help but wish to embrace this grumpy old man.  The sharp smell of ice in the air, the snapping of crystalline greenery underfoot, the sibilance of the wind rubbing the bare branches together like the legs of a cricket, the orchestra of silence found within a gentle snowfall - these are the gifts that Winter wishes to bestow upon those who believe the tale they see through their window.  While some may view Winter as the bait and switch of the seasons, others merely see it as the friend who drags you, protesting, to a party because she knows you will have a great time once you are there.

While I began this saying that I do not have a favorite season, one might still come to believe that I do, perhaps, and that favorite season is Winter.  And it may be that today they would be right.  You see, as I stood by my window earlier this week, looking out at the winter birds enjoying the plenty that is the feeding ground of my balcony and my landlords' garden, it occurred to me that Winter was on its way to finishing up this year.  The temperatures have risen a bit from the teens we were experiencing just a few weeks ago, February is moments from making its appearance, and while the threat of snow may still be ever present it is seldom realized.  On this evidence the advent of Spring was brought up yesterday in my German class and today I am certain that it was a topic of conversation on the German radio.  Upon my acceptance today, whilst driving home, that it might be true, that this beautiful winter might be coming to an end, I was struck by a great feeling of sadness.  As I travelled through the forest and then down the other side of the mountain that separates my village from those that more closely circle the military bases, I made sure to fully appreciate that the frost that was present when I left home earlier was still in place, wrapping my village and the fields that precede it in a cottony embrace.  And as I pondered my melancholy, reminding myself that it was a tougher Winter than usual this year and there was plenty to make me glad of the approaching Spring, I realized that it was not truly the loss of this Winter that was saddening me but my probable loss of the German Winters to come.

This Winter has the potential to be my last Winter here in Germany; certainly it will be my last that I am able to enjoy without the specter of another move in my future.  This may be the last year I get to wake up in a cloud or a world wrapped in cotton and the last year I get to look out the window and identify all of these birds I have come to know and love.  And for this, right now, I love Winter all that much more.  Spring must wait her chance - I'm sure my parting with her will be no less bittersweet.

WDYDAD? HAUSHKT Regret at Awakening

I could continue my tale with additional poetic waxing on the topic of sleep, but I think you all probably now understand how much I love the sleep and are almighty tired of hearing about it.  So, to make those of you who cannot indulge as I am able feel a little bit better, I will explain the downside of my love affair:  REGRET!

That's right, like any illicit relationship, mine with sleep has caused me great mental anguish.  Every night when I fall asleep I think of the things I will accomplish the next day and I feel like my list is reasonable, doable, and easy.  Unfortunately, when I finally awake for the first time the following morning, my list looks mountainous.  So, I do the intelligent thing and revise my list to include fewer of some activities and more of another.  Yes, you guessed it, I go back to sleep.  So, by the time I finally drag my pathetic (and surprisingly not very well rested) butt out of bed, my ability to accomplish all of those things which I had hoped to do and which seemed so simple the night before has now been diminished by a great reduction of time.  Plus, who really starts big projects at one in the afternoon?  Right!  No one!

And that is why regret plays a part in nearly every one of my mornings.  But don't be alarmed for my mental well being - my next ritual upon awakening almost always wipes away the regret and makes me feel energized to tackle the rest of the day.  Stay tuned for Part 3:  How did three hours just pass while I read the days news?

As promised . . .

I've been trying to come up with a blog topic for this, my very special, final, and promise fulfilling post of the year.  I know I had good ideas run through my head in the last few days but I wasn't able to post at the time or remember the ideas when I did have the time.  Now I am in the final hours, threatened with the failure of living up to the high expectations I know you all have of me, but I think I might just have a glimmer of hope as I have procrastinated with this opening long enough to actually come upon an idea.  So, with no further ado, I will regal you with a little tale called:

What Do You Do All Day?

How An Unemployed Second-rate Housewife Kills Time

Sleep

It must be said that I love sleeping.  I am well aware that I am not alone in this devotion and in fact might, in the orchestra of biggest fans, play second fiddle to a great number of sleep deprived parents of infants.  However, if allowed to compete only with other folks who can also sleep nearly as much as they might want, I feel I would surely distinguish myself enough to earn an imaginary trophy to place on my imaginary mantel.

As justification for my confidence in my award worthiness, I offer up the following:  Most people have fond memories of family moments on which they like to reflect or moments in their lives of which they are proud for having shone in some unrivaled way - a truly heartwarming patchwork which they like to revisit from time to time.  Certainly I have this too, but amongst my memories there are some that stand above the rest and one that stands highest of all; the only time I have ever been put under anesthetic.

Oh, what a blissfully wonderful sleep!  So cosy, so dreamless, a bit of time in my seemingly unending mental dialogue which is lost to me forever and the loss of which I do not regret.  The consciousness prior and post are there without so much as a gentle haze within.  If the drug they gave me came in a bottle I have no doubt people worldwide would be addicted.  Fortunately, it apparently comes only at the hands of a very masterful anesthesiologist - if he hadn't cost me so much money I'd call him my hero!

Be sure to stay tuned in the new year for Part Two:  Regret at Awakening

Burger King Ad and Our Loss to World Culture

Time is becoming short to fulfill my prophecy of another 6 posts, so when I saw a news bit today about the insensitivity of Burger King's new ad campaign and Max wasn't a particularly receptive audience to my feelings about it, I decided to pop over here and vent.

Burger King recently began a new ad campaign, found at Whoppervirgins.com, that shows people trying a Whopper for the very first time.  The use of the word 'virgin' might be what first piques interest in the site, but after a few moments of watching, you realize how interesting the video actually has the potential to be.  You see, the advertising company went around the world, located people and cultures who are relatively isolated from the commercially saturated world culture - some folks in Romania, Greenland, and Thailand - transported them to a location where access to both a Burger King and a McDonald's was only moments away, and then set up a taste test between a Whopper and a Big Mac.

You'd expect, of course, that Burger King would come out the winner in the taste test, and it does with three to four times more people choosing the Whopper over the Big Mac or stating no preference, but aside from the moment of surprise you have when they show the Big Mac being the first burger chosen, and the cynical feeling you get when the Whopper eventually dominates, the overwhelming feeling you get from watching the video is one of wonder.

Aside from attempting to convince us that folks who haven't been saturated with media from the day they were born are able to choose a better tasting burger than the rest of us, the video really seems to best point out how wonderful the world we all take for granted really is.  And I don't mean 'wonderful' in the sense of great but rather in its true literal sense of filled with wonder.  While you watch the second half of the video in which they manage to bring an authentic BK grill to the towns of the test subjects, allowing anyone who wishes to have a Whopper, you see the townspeople intrigued by this taste of the world at large and you get to smile seeing them try to tackle the handling of an alien and messy food.  But more interestingly, you see the advertising and filming crew intrigued and humbled themselves by the townspeople they came there to impress.

Having lived in Germany for very nearly two years now, I have come to realize that the American culture, while admittedly having glaring differences, has already become part of the German culture.  As time passes here, I see more and more of this in the proliferation of chain stores, consumerism, and garbage made in China.  I expect that some day it will feel very much the same to live in either place.  So, seeing Burger King's Whopper Virgins ad campaign, I must admit to a great amount of sadness mixed in with my enjoyment.  For, while I don't delude myself into believing that the townspeople shown in this video had never come in contact with the world that I live in, I know that they are now even more indoctrinated into something that I have come to see as not worth the price we pay for it.  I am aware that everyone must make their own path in life and learn things in their own time, but I still wish I could tell them to treat what they have just experienced carefully and to be cautious to not put it on a pedestal of experience which might cause them to seek it out and, in the process, lose what is special about their culture.  Sooner or later, it seems to happen to everyone and one day there will be no virgins left.

P.S. If Burger King's intent was to make me want to go to Burger King after watching this, sorry - I'm a Wendy's fan.

P.P.S. To the folks who are bothered by BK spending so much money to make this video when there are starving children in (pick your favorite place), I say "Get a grip."  Certainly it's ironic, but you never would have raised the BS flag if they hadn't made the association for you.  Companies waste ridiculous sums of money every single day promoting their products but no one ever says "The licensing fees you paid to use that song could have fed a small village in Uganda for a year!"

P.P.P.S  Burger King wants you to know that the townspeople shown in their video were all well fed before they arrived, were doing fine on their own, and were not exploited because they were impoverished or malnourished.  Children with protruding bellies only makes for good footage if you are advertising the Christian Children's Fund.

Perhaps I was being over optimistic . . .

I was suggesting to a friend that he check out the joys of blogging when I decided perhaps I ought to go look at my blog.  It was then that my hypocritical self realized that I could hardly sell said friend on blogging when I had not yet even come close to living up to my lowballed forecast for blogs for the 2008 year.  So, to attempt to make amends I am now putting up a post.  I don't want you to worry, though.  I am sure I will get this out of my system and forget I have a blog for at least another 6 months, allowing all those who might be measuring themselves against my bar to feel confident in their reign of posting frequency.  Of course, not coming to my blog with a thought in mind about which I want to expound, I am going to have to force myself to write about something.  Hmmmmm.  My Mom, quilling, my Dad, my brother, religion, Spirographs, responsibilities . . . sooooo many options, how can I choose.  I guess I'll hit on all of them - you guys deserve it after all.  Well, here goes!

My Mom.  She is old.  70, to be exact, which isn't really old, but apparently her body seems to think it qualifies.  She just had hip surgery, then broke her hip during recovery.  We are waiting to see if it will heal on it's own or if she will have to go back for surgery.  To make matters worse, she also appears to be suffering symptoms of pre-Alzheimer's, which has reared it's ugly head once before on her side of the family.  Because of these two factors, it is unlikely she will ever work again.  Well, my Mom grew up in an age when women had husbands to take care of them and if they ever got jobs they sure weren't making a lot of cash.  Guess what the social security checks for those women look like?  Yeah, they are so small you can barely see them.  So, with the help of a family friend, my brother and I got in touch with each other for the first time in ? years - 10 maybe?  We are working together to try to stabilize my mom financially.  It's a tough road, but it is so much more doable with my brother helping out, especially since I'm still thousands of miles and a 12 hour plane flight away.

My brother.  In all fairness, I have 3 (*ahem* 4) brothers, but the youngest of the three (*4*) is the only one capable of taking care of himself and therefore the only one I could turn to for help with my mom.  I won't say much about him, but I am so very grateful that he is helping out.  I've always known that he and his wife were good people, but it is so nice to be able to rely on them a bit and know that they are doing what they can and dealing with the same frustrations I am.

Religion.  Yeah, no.  I'm not touching that one.

Spirographs.  Seriously!  I love this toy!  I found one at the thrift shop for $1 and grabbed it.  They are way fun and are actually giving me some ideas for some quilling designs of my own.

Quilling.  Also known as Paper Filigree.  I took this up a few months ago and have been enjoying it.  If You get really lucky you may someday receive a card I made with some quilling on it.  Perhaps not, though, as I am very busy with it and might not be making cards as planned.  I sold 10 quilled snowflakes in an auction ($70!) and have to complete those and I may also be teaching a quilling class on base too.  In addition, I may be selling some in an A&C show right before Christmas.  We'll see and I'll try to keep you posted and maybe throw up a picture.

My Dad.  I love my dad.  A lot.  I'm not really sure where the feeling comes from as I don't know when we connected or why, but I really, really love him.  Which made some news that I got earlier this year very, very hard for me to handle.  My dad had knee surgery and everything went to hell after that.  He had a severe allergic reaction to a drug they gave him, believing it would save his life, and he almost lost his life because of the drug.  Dialysis for a week, hallucinating, about 100 pounds lost, the list goes on and on.  I talked to him the other day and he is actually back at work.  He says he feels like he's passed the 50% mark and is feeling good.  He actually feels good enough to lament that he missed his favorite seasons this year: spring and summer.  Our conversation just has me grateful that it looks like he will be here for at least another spring and summer and probably quite a few more after that.  If you haven't experienced a moment in which you realize just how much you love someone and just how close you came to losing them without realizing that, I'm not sure I can really explain how fortunate and sad I feel at the same time to have had that moment.  Nor can I say if I would wish it on someone or not.  It is still painful many months after the fact.

Responsibilities.  This is a tough one.  Even with no job I still have many responsibilities.  I have to tell you, though.  Without other folks expecting you to accomplish things, 'responsibility' reads just like 'optional' and it doesn't often get done.  That doesn't really make you feel too good about yourself.  If you've heard the commencement speech "Everybody's free to wear sunscreen," then you will recognize the advice to "Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard: live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft."  Well, something similar can be said of being unemployed;  It has been great and has allowed me to heal from my self imposed stint in the hell of corporate America.  But it has flipped to the other side now, and I am jonesing for work like an Atkins follower for a bagel.  I've got my sights on some potential (and various) job opportunities when I return to the states (and none of them are Chiropractic school, to my husband's chagrin), but I would honestly be happy just to work at Target.  Oh, and if you haven't heard "Everybody's free to wear sunscreen" be sure to check it out.

Well, that's it.  I hope it fulfills you for as long as it will take me to post again.  Perhaps you should read one paragraph a week . . . ?

Chocolate fixes everything . . .

Some women whose opinions I value have suggested that when life hands you suck, rather than whipping up the life equivalent of the culinary masterpiece of succotash, one (especially if that one is a woman) should go out and bury her sorrows in chocolate. I've given this some thought and have come down on the side of chocolate myself. Okay, truth be told, any quasi scientific reason which would allow me to increase my chocolate cosumption is good in my book. Frankly, ANY reason, quasi scientific, urban legend derived, or espoused by a crazy on the corner of some NY street is really good enough for me; chocolate and I are good friends. At least, that's what I say. I'm not sure chocolate would really feel all that good about our relationship since it really is all give on chocolate's part and all take on mine, even though I do let chocolate have it's say once a day when I step on the bathroom scale.  But I digress. Rather than tell you the intimate details of my undying devotion to chocolate, I wanted to share with you the place that chocolate has recently had in my life.

Just this past week my husband left on very short notice for unnamed hostile places - certain hostile places that scare me more than they reasonably should. I received one call from him informing me that he would be home a day later than originally believed. Okay, I was fine with that. Then he didn't come home when he was supposed to. And he didn't call. And he wound up missing Valentine's day. Now, I know that this is not uncommon. And I know that this is what I signed up for. And I know that this is nothing compared to what other women have gone through while their husbands' have been called to save the world in one form or another. But all of these facts aside, I was still a woman who did not know where her husband was, when he would be home, and what she was supposed to do with herself all alone on Valentine's day. And yet, I did not fall apart. Heck, I didn't even shed a tear or feel the least bit sorry for myself. Okay, okay, that last one's a lie, I felt a little bit sorry for myself, but I didn't let it get out of control. And do you know how I maintained the strong exterior of a wife inured to the vagaries of this life? One word: chocolate.

That's right, when this all started to go down, did I consult my government's web site and prepare with canned food, and water, and batteries? No, because all those guidelines are written by men and say nothing of the healing, stabilizing, and emotional benefits of chocolate. But I knew what I needed, the way birds know to migrate and salmon know to swim upstream, because I am a woman and we women have been heeling ourselves this way for a very long time. Had there been women on the battlefield when Florence Nightingale was ministering to the needs of the wounded I am sure she would have had Hershey Kisses in one of the pockets of her apron. For nothing has quite the power to right so many wrongs as chocolate. Strangely enough,though, I have had little chocolate in my pantry until just this last week. Things have been great and I really didn't need it. But, with the arrival of Girl Scout cookie season, Easter candy at the BX, and an accidental trip down the chocolate aisle of Real, my pantry was suddenly chock full, and just in time.

Now I receive news this evening that my husband will probably arrive home tomorrow. It has been an okay week. I've gotten in some watching of Stargate and seen episodes I didn't know I'd never seen. I got on my hands and knees and scrubbed and waxed the kitchen floor (sadly, I've known for some time how badly that was needed). I spent a day with my landladies and used my German and have been making a point of studying every night. I've earned more gift certificates for toys from Amazon for Darin. And I've given the house a bit of a straightening up. Overall, not a bad week. So, the next time you are faced with a personal or family crisis, I highly recommend you get yourself some chocolate. It really does fix everything.

(Unless you are a guy, in which case, try football or video games. Seriously, you know how different men and women are; why are you consulting me?)

Stand Up and Stand Out

I don't recall when, but at some point in my life I came to the realization that while it could certainly be said that I am infinitely unique, it is also a certainty that I am truly and honestly about as unique and important as any other ant in this anthill of human life. I've had my moments of angst over this, sure, but in the end, most days I am just fine with it.

The knowledge of my, essentially, cookie cutter existence has created one notable tic in my personality, however; I am always on the lookout for things that are said or actions that are done that have the potential to be the first time ever done by a human being. Now, manning the first plane to exit earth's atmosphere, making the first viable vehicle not to run on fossil fuels, or being the first person of color to actually have a chance at the American presidency are all wonderful things and I applaud those people who have it in them to accomplish these very significant and unique achievements, but these are not what I am talking about. When I say I am on the lookout for original accomplishments or the coining of original words or phrases, I am talking about those things that are mundane, silly, unimportant and potentially unnoticed. For example, every once in a while I will hear someone say a combination of words that I am certain have never ben said in sequence before. My husband came up with one a few months back and I was incredibly delighted with it, so much so that I believe he was momentarily concerned that I might be a little off my rocker. Sadly and wonderfully, it was so bizarre a sequence that I could not remember it even an hour later.

I think as people living our little lives, noticeable mostly only to our friends and family and unknown and unimportant to the world at large, it is vitally important that we pay attention and keep our eyes open for these moments in our own lives. It is always good to be reminded that while most of what we do has been done before, we still have the power to be refreshing and silly and to come out of nowhere with statements or actions that are certain to have never been said or tried. We ned to remember to try things that are new for us and things that might be new to everyone. So, I urge my readers to consider this in their own lives and to pay attention to what's going on around you. It might seem like one moment, one day, one week, all bleed into the next, but it's just not true. For those of you with children you can see that it isn't that way for them yet. Well, I say, don't let it be that way for you either. If everything around you is the same old thing then you be the change, you be the surprise, you do the action that has never been done before, even if you feel like a fool. To make it easier for you, I will give you a small glimpse into my evening and what prompted this post: just a half hour ago I stood in my kitchen with a pot of boiling water, my broom, and a fork. Now, I won't go into details, but I've got a fair amount of certainty that I might have been the first person to ever be doing what I was doing. If I'm not, well, I'm sure I'm part of a rather exclusive group. And I have to tell you, it feels good. Sure, I know others would think I'm crazy, but it feels really good.