Eurolush

Twigs and Berries!

 

As promised, photos from the early Thanksgiving throw-down in the G-town. It was a cornucopia of Thanksgiving goodness, minus the cornucopia. (Though if I'd had access to a cornucopia, you can be certain I'd have used it.)

Respect the cornucopia.

My "nature inspired buffet tableau"came together quite nicely. Most of what's up there was collected stealthily along my walks over the last few mornings--twigs and berries, leaves, pine cones, etc. Everything else accessory-wise I had on hand--candles, plates, vase, dog, etc. etc. etc.

Stole several decorating ideas from my Pottery Barn catalog: hazelnuts in the glass hurricanes along with the candles and multi-colored leaves, leaves tied with twine around the small glass votives, and branches covered in berries. It all looked very festive, methinks, in a sort of OCD-lady-with-a-lot-of-time-on-her-hands sort of way.

I should mention, the food was wonderful, too, as were the guests. As much as I dreaded getting organized for our cooking frenzy, it all turned out perfectly. Yours truly looked like a #1 Stunna. The turkey was ready in time, moist and flavorful. The many accompanying side dishes were delicious, and the pie was ready as soon as we finished eating.

I may or may not have mentioned something about being a glutton in the last post...well...had you seen my plate, you'd have understood all too clearly what I meant. Good lawd. Some day I'll be the star of a reality show called, "Two-Ton Mommy Dearest."

Cue slow, sad music.

Being far away from home on Thanksgiving has never been easy. Celebrating with close friends is a nice way to enjoy a different sort of "family." We are so very lucky to have friends we love and admire here. (Though mostly I admire them for their own good, sophisticated taste in friends...ME.) And now, in a small way, I've also celebrated our Thanksgiving with YOU. And I didn't even have to share my food!! Not a single piece of pie in your pie hole. How perfect is that?? YOU ARE THE BEST.

Down the Path to Freedom

 

Post birthday recovery is in progress. Respect the suffering. Do not point. Do not laugh. This is real.

Do not taunt happy fun ball.

Actually, the birthday recovery is winding down. Spent all day yesterday with a brutal, fierce, angry headache. When mixed in large quantities, beer and processed sugar are a lethal combination. You've been warned.

I lie. Only drank 2.4 beers on my birthday. It was the sugar. I'm a glutton. I have no self-control. I'm not proud of it.

That's also a lie.

I am proud of it.

Gluttons of the world, unite.

Moving on...

Had a swell birthday. Thanks for all the blog love. Check or cash would've been nice, too, but...whatever. Ain't mad atcha.

Lie.

I'm pissed.

Tomorrow I will post photos of my Pottery Barn-wanna-be early Thanksgiving throw-down...twigs and berries! Candles! Table linens! I'm old! I need to go potty! Is it nap time yet?

  That's also a lie. It'll probably be Sunday. Tomorrow I'll post something, though, so you'll want to be here for the excitement. 

Lie.

Bo don't know shit. I got nothin.

I'll leave you with some birthday party fun...a hat, scarf and glove set my mother sent me.

Definitely not proud of this.

Lie.

I'm adorable.

38 Years Young!

 It's time...

to celebrate a special day...

 

with a certain someone... 

who also knows how to rock the bonnet. 

Happy Birthday to my twin, K.

 

Hope you get lots of boxes of raisins today.

 

She's Sitting Under a Fliegenpilz!

 
  
Spent six hours yesterday making a 2010 calendar on one of those on-line photo websites. Completely lost track of time. Sat for hours hunkered down in front of the monitor with the world's worst posture, muttering to myself and rearranging photos in a most OCD manner. Coasting on the fumes of my depleted energy stores, I also managed to make two photo books. Used all of my favorite photos taken this year in and around the village. When I finally finished, all achey, dry-mouthed and mentally exhausted, I ordered 15 of them to the tune of...

$JesusMaryandJoseph!You'veGOTtobefuckingkiddingme. 

Next month I'll be giving them out, in a Father Christmas-like manner, to my neighbors and friends, in the hopes that they will shower me with praise and love me forever. I'm so very, very needy, you see. All my gifts come with invisible emotional attachments. When you accept them, you are my secret prisoner. Your soul belongs to me. Very much like that "Devil Went Down to Georgia" song by Charlie Daniels. Only, with less fiddling and more repetitive story-telling. Unless you're into fiddling. In which case...

"I bet you didn't know it, but I'm a fiddle player too.
"And if you'd care to take a dare, I'll make a bet with you.
"Now you play a pretty good fiddle, boy, but give the devil his due:
"I bet a fiddle of gold against your soul, 'cos I think I'm better than you."

Mr. Lush just walked by and asked me why I was singing "Devil Went Down to Georgia" in a most aggressive and dramatic fashion. I told him...

Fire on the moon, run boys, run.
The devil's in the house of the risin' sun.
Chicken in the bread pin, pickin' out dough.

"Granny, does your dog bite?"

"No, child. No."

Cause that's how we be rollin' in G-to-the-ermany. You think you got me all figured out, don't you? Cracka, please.

Only two days left until my birthday. Thought I might pass on another reminder, as I've noticed Eleanor's slacking in her duties. It's been at least 24 hours since she put the word out on the streets in Blogtown. WTF, Eleanor? WTF? (By the way...that acronym stands for What the Fudge...as per Eleanor's inability to say the F-bomb with authority and conviction. Practice makes perfect, sweet pea! I just KNOW you can fucking DO IT!)

In two days I will have my first drinky-drink after 18 days of self-induced sobriety hell. Only one more night of drying-out left. So 'cited! What to drink first??? Also will be stopping the lovely Frau M, in her golden chariot, for an energetic pastry-buying frenzy. This. That. This. That. And this. And that. Will photograph the aftermath for you...my sticky, flaky, crumb and jelly-covered face and hands. Nomnomnom. Pinky promise.

Deep sigh, followed by overly dramatic, far-away, blank stare.

Am starting to feel the pre-holiday stress building up, causing disorganization-related chest-tightness. Have no Xmas presents purchased for anyone but myself. Will have house guests for the ENTIRE month of December. Must find way to appear as responsible adult. Will most certainly cut-in to my obsessive blog-reading. How to survive?

We're planning an early Thanksgiving dinner this coming Saturday, hosting two other families, with the works. Haven't planned the menu...bought a thing...or started cleaning the house. Want Thanksgiving-perfection, a la Pottery Barn catalog. Damn you, Pottery Barn, making things so difficult. I'll never be satisfied. Unless...I can manage to find many giant, perfectly shaped, leaf-covered branches in large glass containers to place throughout the house, hundreds of fall-themed candles and a multitude of decorative gourds...by this Saturday. Not to mention countless autumn-related accessories and taller ceilings.

Next week we'll be meeting my sister and two of her kids in Zurich for the Thanksgiving holidays. Will be taking day trips to Lucerne, Brienz and Interlaken and most definitely eating a lot of Swiss chocolates at an alarming rate. The Thanksgiving meal itself will most likely be beer and...raclette and potatoes? Maybe. Hopefully. In a perfect world.

All for now. Must get back to twirling my bangs into mushroom-like shapes on the top of my head.

Back again soon with further birthday discussions.
 

Sparkly Sunlight Saturday

 

 
 

 
  
 
 

 

It's an overcast, gray Saturday afternoon in small town Germany. The sun has been largely absent for the last week or so--with occasional short-lived appearances...just enough to make a person wistful and nostalgic. When a few streams of sunlight manage to fight their way tooth and nail through the clouds, the whole world seems to turn from black and white...to vivid color. Everything is so green and lush. The red-tiled roof tops in the village sparkle. The fallen leaves--crimson, copper and gold--suddenly light up the paths along the farm fields.

But the moments of sunlit beauty don't last long. In two shakes of a lambs tail, the clouds shroud the village in darkness once more. Once again, my glowing, alabaster skin becomes the only beacon of light the people of the village have. It's a burden.

As you can tell from the photos above, all snapped this morning while the dog and I sashayed around the village, it's pretty wild and crazy here today. The Germans are out in force as I type, sweeping their walkways (always a Saturday tradition), riding bikes--whizzing along the bike path, and going for long walks with their dogs out in the countryside.The pastry truck has made its rounds. The chimneys are puffing out great clouds of smoke. Small cars zoom along the tiny, narrow streets. A soccer game is being played down the hill from our house. The cheers in the distance occasionally filtering through the windows. It's sprinkled several times, as clouds have raced by overhead.

At the moment, a brilliant early sunset has turned the light outside into an orangey-pink gorgeousness. The church across from the house is looking quite lovely.

 

As do the forests on the hills surrounding the village.

 

Alright. Enough with the village, and the sun, and the people. Blah, blah, blah. Hello? I haven't even mentioned all the running I've been doing lately! I apologize. I know that's why you're here. Let's see...There was a 4 mile trail run Wednesday, a 2 mile hill run yesterday and yet another 4 mile trail run today. In short, my donkey booty is incredibly firm and taut at the moment. I'm feeling amazingly good...while simultaneously missing my beer and pastries in a most ferocious, ravenous and bloodthirsty manner.

Of course, this will all be over by Wednesday, when we gather here together to celebrate the unforgettable, noteworthy and illustrious day of my birth...nearly 29 years hence. There'll be hugs all around. Two cakes (one from my most awesomely awesome German friend, Tanja!--That's her little Jack Russel terrier up there in one of the photos.--The other, baked by none other than Mr. Lush! Homemade carrot cake, y'all! Woot!) Party favors will abound...packs of cigarettes and such. Oompa music will  fill the air. We'll dance with handsome, elderly German men in the beer tent. It will be Eurolush Fest 2009. Please join me.

A Wednesday birthday warning:

You'd be ill-advised to come between a gangsta bitch and her beer & pastries. 

After my birthday, I promise you no more talk of healthy endeavors. No more exercise discussions. No more weighing and measuring. No more calipers. No more running challenges with crazy Aussies. Instead, we will discuss other pressing topics. Important topics. Timely topics. Strange topics, even.

Like my new obsession with...

and I'm NOT kidding here...

are you ready for this...

Okay, now I'm just avoiding telling you...

Alright, alright...

My new obsession with...

mushrooms.

There.

I said it.

  

Never-Ending Runs

 

 

Another day has come and gone.

 

Among other things, I managed to get out for a long run in the morning. Listened to "This American Life" on my iPod, lost track of time...and ended up running for over an hour. Holla back now!

 

Between "This American Life" and "The Moth," it's becoming abundantly clear I'm in the middle of an obsession. Can't seem to get enough of hearing other people's stories. Must have more. Instead of "driveway moments," I'm having "never-ending runs."

 

(Ohmygod. Never-ending runs! Unintended, yet hilarious POOP JOKE! Love it!)

 

Spent the rest of the day running errands. (I did not literally run while I went about my errands...I skipped.) Felt tired, but good--the kind of tired you feel after a particularly hard work-out. My spirits were high throughout the day...high enough that when I called Mr. Lush at work in the afternoon, the first thing he said (a little resentfully, I might add) was, "Well, SOMEONE seems to be in a good mood." It was a bit out of the ordinary for me, since most of my calls to Mr. Lush entail lots of sighing and feigned despair. Today it was his turn.

 

Tonight, right now, we're sitting by the fireplace reading and relaxing. No school for the kiddies tomorrow--or work for Mr. Lush. We'll be going for a run in the morning and I'll be planting my tulip and daffodil bulbs in the afternoon...finally. I'm kinda sorta dreading it, actually. So much digging...and mud...and back strain. 

 

All for now. Must get back to the fire...where Tex is currently roasting like a small, furry hot dog.

 

Hope you're having a good day wherever you are.

 

Sunday Run, One Week Down

 

 

 

 

Every Sunday I run the same four mile trail run with my running buddy, Mr. Lush. It's become part of our weekend routine. We spend the half hour run chatting and catching-up. Sometimes I tell him to slow down. Hey Speedy Gonzales, take it down a notch. Sometimes (rarely) he tells me to slow down. We stop and stretch halfway. We complain about various aches and pains associated with our old age. Then we make our way home, where we prepare a big lunch and relax for the rest of the day.

Until last Sunday, those four miles were the only running miles I was logging each week. Somehow, I'd managed to fall off the exercise wagon once I'd gotten back from my summer vacation in the States. It was really hard for me to motivate again. Instead of lacing up my running shoes and hitting the trails in the mornings, I stayed home and lounged around. My only activities became reading and snacking. Believe it or not, reading  and snacking are not the best way to burn calories. I tell you this from experience.

During the summer months I was a monster. I ran a four mile loop around the lake my parents live on almost every morning. My goal was to log over 100 miles in the six weeks I was home. Please. That's just child's play right there. I more than passed my goal. (By the way, all that running MAY have had something to do with helping Mom clean out the basement and her sewing room...it felt a little like running away. You saw the photos...remember??)

Up until now, I've avoided saying anything about my summertime 100 mile goal, as I knew Coffee Lady, Lynn and Eleanor would taunt and tease me ruthlessly. But then I realized they taunt and tease me ruthlessly anyway. So, what the H-E-double hockey sticks? Now I'm telling you.

With my birthday month Fitness Challenge in full-swing, I'm managing better stats--somewhere near 20 miles in the last 7 days. Today marks the end of the first full week of self-denial (no beer, no pastries) and increased exercise. It's been a looooong seven days, lemme tell you. I've wavered dangerously. I've nearly given up several times. I've questioned my own strange version of self-flagellation. But I've made it through the first week...perhaps the hardest. Only nine days to go till B-Day.

How am I feeling?

How sweet of you to ask.

I'm feeling better-ish. My clothes are fitting better. I have more energy. I feel less stressed. According to the scale upstairs in my bathroom, I've lost two pounds. But I'm not doing this to lose weight--No.--My only goal is to be healthy. Hahahahahahahaha! Wow. That was funny. Yeah, I'm doing it to lose weight.

There is something to be said for making a big effort to feel my best for my birthday. Maybe I'll figure that out by the time my birthday rolls around. Until then, I will keep drinking bubbly mineral water and munching on tiny carrots. Getting in shape is fun!

Sheep and Herbs...It's Sunday in Germany!

 

 
 

It's been the very best sort of Sunday--the kind of Sunday you wake up late, spend the last of the morning hours reading in your pajamas, and then take a leisurely walk with the dog (and your 12 year old daughter who also tags along) down your favorite paths in the cool fall sunshine.

Of course, your feet get soaked, the 12 year old complains the entire walk (which she didn't want to come on in the first place), the dog must be dragged through the village, as he tries in vain to leave one drop of urine every three and a half feet and you're starting to develop a throbbing caffeine headache. But let's just go with leisurely, enjoyable Sunday story we started with, shall we?

Wait! The day doesn't end here...no...there's more drama waiting to unfold. There's a run to tell you about--a power run with Mr. Lush along the bike path, complete with sheep...and high drama. Okay, maybe not high drama--unless, of course, you count the sheep! A multitude of sheep! Also, there was mud! Lots of mud, from all the rain we've been having. Squishy mud. Even with the mud, it was the nicest sort of Sunday run.

Of course, there will be no mention of the argument which unfolded moments before the run, over who did or did not forget to buy the basil for our future lunchtime paninis. Each person swore he/she was not at fault. There were raised voices. There was an impasse. And then, there was peace. No one was to blame for the forgotten basil. We would make do without it. Our marriage would survive another day...until some other herb nearly destroys it.

Tune in later for THE RUN... 

View from the Bedroom Window

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 Over the last few days I've been photographing the view from my bedroom window. Throughout the day the light changes depending on the weather--and the view transforms dramatically. Clouds and rain are replaced by brilliant sunshine. Then, just as quickly, a blustery front blows through.

Yesterday, Mother Nature was indecisive...rain? Or sun? No. Wait. Rain. Well, maybe some sun, too. The most amazing rainbow filled the sky in the late afternoon. I swear, I could see the pot of gold from my bedroom window.

PROOF:

 

Rainy Day Run

 

Today  I woke up, got out of bed, put on my robe, came downstairs, turned on my laptop, looked at my most recent blog post--and said to myself, 'Wow. That right there is...pure...untainted...unadulterated...brilliance.' Though 'brilliance' could have easily have been replaced with 'mental illness.' But, c'mon. We all know my open-ended threats of violence and psychological torment are all in fun. Right? We only hurt the ones we love. At least, that's always been my M.O.

See what cute little Eleanorhas done to me? I'm a monster. Though, admittedly, a good-looking one. She knows better than to bait me. She knows I'm unable to resist any sort of challenge...anything...without resorting to threats of bodily harm, some light knife-play and trash-talk. Just ask anyone who's ever played Trivial Pursuit with me.

The photo above was taken yesterday in the late afternoon while out for a hill run with Master Lush, my 14 year old cross-country star. I'd previously left a comment for Eleanor on her blog telling her I'd done no exercise for the day, but felt compelled to join the 14 year old for his run--if only to deal with the immense build-up of rage and fury caused by Eleanor's disrespect.

 

See me up there? That's the downhill part of our run, during which I bring the heat. I dare you to try to keep up with a pimp. (You think I'm gonna let you see me huffing and puffing, near total collapse, during the uphill section of our run? Ho, you straight-up crazy.) 

I did manage to take a few photos of the views on my run. But trust me, I was in a full-on sprint when I did.

 

It was actually a rather cold, dark and rainy day. Most uninspiring and the reason I was completely unmotivated. It was really nice to have a running buddy, although when I asked him how fast he usually ran the hills, the 14 year old answered, 'Pretty much a lot faster than this.' The hand of justice was this close to giving him a beat down. He also kept asking, 'Mom, are you okay?' on the uphill portion of our run. But that was mainly because I was wheezing and foaming at the mouth.

 At the end of our run the sky started getting dark and ominous. It sprinkled as we made our way home. All in all, it was a good work-out and, most importantly, added to the numbers. Now if I could just detract from another set of numbers I've seen upstairs on the scale in my bathroom... 

Today I will walk in the hills. No run. Day of rest.