6 years

5 trips to Munich

4 different countries lived in

4 pairs of sunglasses (majority of them lost)

3 vacations in the Outer Banks

2 cars

2 new languages

1 cliff jumping experience 

1 labrador retriever 

1 beautiful daughter 

1, as they say here, "house of stone"

(Things too numerous to count: international flights, diapers, pizzas, and kisses.)

Happy Anniversary, honey.

Caught in the act

She takes after her mama.

"Honey, I hope you don't mind

but I invited an office contact to our house for dinner tonight."

"Tonight? As in right after work, when I was planning to use up the leftovers in the fridge and wear my pajamas and lie like a slug on the couch after Bee goes to bed?"

"Yes, tonight."

Sigh.  The actual conversation with David wasn't quite along these lines. 

I had a surprise dinner guest tonight.  He seemed to enjoy himself because he stayed until 11pm.  I don't think he has quite as strict a bedtime as we do.  It was a bit stressful planning at the very last minute, but, David was right, he was really nice, and I enjoyed talking with another American expat (albeit one who is living in fabulous London.)

Here's what you make for a last minute dinner party:

Menu--

Appetizers: Cheese and crackers, olives, sun dried tomatoes, and pickled red peppers.  (The guys had martinis.)

Dinner: Penne a la vodka (vodka, cream, canned crushed tomatoes, boil noodles, boil!), salad (greens in a bag, chopped tomato, pine nuts, go!), peas (microwave with butter, quick!), and garlic bread (no exhortations needed, garlic bread is always easy.)

Dessert: Betty Crocker's snack cake, served warm with vanilla ice cream (it's the only cake you can whip up in less than ten minute's time.)

Result--good food, interesting conversation, a very messy kitchen.  I am surprised there was not pasta stuck to the ceiling.

Now it is time for bed.

Peace is

a quiet flock of crows overhead, commuting home to their evening roost.  Technically, the correct term for a flock of crows is a murder of crows, but I have always felt that it is an unfair designation.  

I have noticed that when crows fly together in a large group, they do not caw loudly, as one might expect.  Instead, they emit a sort of raspy chirp, which I suppose serves as chit chat among bird friends.  Other than those few quiet sounds, they glide silently, black wings stark against the winter sky.  

The crow has been my favorite animal for a long time.  It is not the fastest or most beautiful of birds. However, its perseverance and ingenuity sets it part from most other species.  Where a more delicate animal might die, scrappy crows thrive in the face of adversity.  They are stubborn, like me.

Cliche

As David and I were walking home through the park tonight a thick mist rose up from the ground and swirled around us.  It was as thick as a veil, and blurred everything in the distance.  

The setting sun in the west turned the trees into eerie black silhouettes. 

It looked . . . like a place where vampires might lurk. 

Cultural (mis)communication

I am very proud of myself for not shrieking at Bee's babysitter today when she apologized for eating so many (only three so not so many, really) chocolates from the box I had brought from Germany.  

She was very confused when I explained that the chocolates she had been eating were from my Advent calendar and you're (I'm) only supposed to only eat one per day.  "One per day?" she asked.

"Yes, one per day. You open one per day and count down to Christmas."

In my head I screeched silently, "And it's MINE!"  

Keeping in the Christmas spirit, I smiled and said it was absolutely no problem, but to please not eat any more.  

However, as soon as she left I hid it the calendar in my room, lest she be tempted tomorrow to eat all the way to Christmas eve.  

I'm an unrepentant chocolate Grinch.

Landed

Oh I should really go to bed right now because work is going to be brutal tomorrow after a weekend of vacationing and a day of travel.  

Flying alone is occasionally boring, but usually relaxing--despite the cramped quarters in economy class, you can usually read a stack of mindless magazines and catch the in-flight movie. 

Traveling with a toddler is maniacal.  Plus, toddlers have so much more luggage than adults--the extra changes of clothes, the diapers, the snacks, the toys, the extra toys for when the first set gets boring and you're mid-flight, the storybooks, the medicines for every possible ailment (because do you really want to be finding tylenol in a foreign country at 1 am?), the stroller. . . so you are entertaining your child while dragging the equivalent of an ox cart behind you. 

Tonight was Bee's 10th international flight within a two month time period and we are done, done, done, with flying for the foreseeable future.  Tonight our plane didn't turn around mid-flight and head back (good) but it did land in some of the thickest fog I have ever seen in my entire life (questionable judgement on the part of the airport authorities, but hey, this is Eastern Europe after all).  

But now we're home, David and I. The luggage is piled up in the hall and I think it is going to stay that way until tomorrow night.  I want to go get in bed with a magazine and have a bit of a pout--it's always hard to leave Munich.  

I am starting to think that Munich is more like Disney World than an actual city.  The buildings are so perfect they could be made from gingerbread.  They are iced with Christmas garlands and twinkling lights.  Christmas displays brighten every shop window.  One block from my sister's apartment is a chocolate shop that rivals Willie Wonka.  The city is so sweet I want to eat it up.  But there's no need, because every neighborhood has its own bakery with pastries the size of pie plates and fresh pretzels.  Sigh.