Daring darling Dylan

 

Our daughter is about to start a job at the German Space Agency. Yup, you got it; she's found a unicorn job in her field of space security. Feeling so chuffed about this.

Tripped across this photo of her making her first attempt as a rocket pilot. Following valiantly beside her is her cousin Dylan. You cannot see it in the photo, but there is a long decline and she's picking up speed. 

Flown the nest

The Wee Ones (forget that Julien now towers over me) have flown the nest for a few days. They are visiting friends in southern Germany. Sara called to say they had arrived safely. I could hear the birds singing, the wind through the trees, and the other children/teenagers/young adults chattering in the background.

I am staying longer in my office this evening as a way of celebrating. Boggles the mind.

Two rabbits with one stone

Sara and I have been having numerous conversations recently about how silly puberty is. She just doesn’t want to be a teenager. Some of this concerns the fact that her older brother is a teenager. Most of it concerns the fact that German high school starts in grade five. So, ten-year-olds are faced (brutally, in my opinion) with a whole range of challenges: learning to cope in the world of teenagers and young adults at an age where, in many cultures, they are still allowed to be children.

Sara has even noticed how already some of her classmates' attention, conversation, and competition are all focused on boys. She thinks this is so stupid and is generally appalled that the girls would waste their time with that stuff. I have been trying to figure out what I can do except lend her a sympathetic ear and came up with the idea of making her a collage poster. It is supposed to be a celebration of childhood.

At work we have just installed the most amazingly printer that can print mega marvellous posters! I am hoping that it isn't too terrible if I print one poster for a good cause.

So, killing two rabbits (birds) with one stone, I made Sara up this poster today.


The text is to be recited phonetically. It is a nonsense text Sara picked from one of her children’s quotes and poem books.

I originally wanted to write something sentimental and “meaningful”, but she rejected that notion immediately. She said if it was sentimental, she wouldn’t look at it because that would make her cry. Gosh, she sure has here share of those Irish and Italian genes?

Cocktail mix

In the last while, I have had a few conversations with friends about immigration and identity. These talks ran along the line of questioning how much a person’s nationality/citizenship (either adopted or natural) attributes to that person’s identity. And to take this a step further, what other attributes, besides nationality, are major contributors: sex, language, race, religion, family roots, schooling, choice of profession, financial status, Heimat (adopted or natural), political conviction, sexual preference, etc. Can you name, let’s say, five primary attributes which determine your identity? Can you name them also by their order of importance?

Admittedly, there is no fixed formula, but even though we are talking about a cocktail mix, it must somehow be possible to figure out the ingredients and their proportions…

Julien showed us a video from the comedian Russell Peters. In it, he talks about human hybrids offspring: Jamaican/Italian, Pastafarian, Indian/Jew, Hinjew, French/Greek, Freek, Iceland/Cuba, Ice-cube… This was amusing to watch and led to more conversation at the dinner table this evening. We figured that our children are brica-germ and pasca-germ. Which doesn’t even begin to encompass all the permutations and combinations. 

If you list all of the possibilities on the part of the six grandparents (Canada, Italy, Sicilians (Sicilians don’t necessarily identify themselves as Italians), Austria, St. Vincent), three biological parents (Venezuela, Canada, Italy, Germany, Britain, St. Vincent), and the two children (Germany, Canada) it really is a rich cocktail of opportunity.

Virtual possessions

Talking to my teenage son about what he plans to do with the 900 upward photos he took on his trip, he said he would select 20 or 30 pictures for friends and family to look at and then copy the rest onto his external hard disk. 

I was appalled, why did he want over 900 photos, some of the blurry and unfocused, crowding up his hard disk? He said he wanted the images just to “have”. To him, unlike me, virtual possession or collection has material significance. In the same way I used to collect books and records, he contains mp3 files and photos. They actually translate materially in his mind. Isn’t that phenomenal?

Early morning

The sun is so gentle in the early morning hours.

The colours of the garden seem to glow from within, no matter how subtle they are.

We went to one of our favourite beaches yesterday, and the children spent hours body surfing and digging holes to China. By the time they were finished digging their holes, they were covered from head to toe by the dark volcanic sand, which is prevalent on that side of the island.

Mess of slush and snow and dirty water

We have had such bad weather in the last two days. What a mess the streets are in.

It was reported in the news that there have been hundreds of car accidents in the last few days. The city workers are on strike. Tension mounts.

However, my experience is that the number of accidents is not necessarily solely due to the poor road conditions but lousy winter drivers. They just don’t “get” how zero visibility, icy streets, and grimy, slushy, slippery conditions can force you to drive more slowly or even cancel plans for an outing. It is like people here just do not want to believe weather rules.

Enough.

It’s birthday party time today. I am off to buy some balloons and other kitschy decorations. Our daughter turned eleven this week.

Today’s party agenda is: 14:00 guests arrive, birthday cake and cookie celebration, watch Spy Kids I on DVD, out to our local Italian Ice Cream Café for ice cream, Spy Kids II on DVD, a short break for party games (accent on short), off to the restaurant for their children’s special, parents pick up their daughters at 19:30.

The older Brother of the birthday girl (our teenage son) also decided to hold a DVD marathon with two or three friends today. So, he is: a) on his own with all the arrangements (e.g. food and drink), b) going to have to do the shopping for both parties, c) keep the volume down, and d) all of the above. The answer is, of course, d. If he and his friends comply with good grace, they might get some of the birthday cake, which will substitute for lunch.

Embarrassing Stuff

The family is cozing down to a National Lampoon Christmas movie. Talk about culture shock. I can not quite grasp the concept about my Italian hubby and two German kids chuckling away to all the slapstick sketches.

I find watching the movie too embarrassing, and though I can’t explain why, it is so. So I prefer to be writing my blog and just hearing the occasional good piece of music from the movie's sound track, inter-dispersed with a lot of yelling and screaming and sound effects of people falling down.

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)

Sheriff Santa

We had a motorcycle entourage of Santa Clauses ride by our apartment today: BMWs, Harleys, Suzukis, etc. One motorcycle had Sheriff written across its body, which clashed nicely with the official police motorist. Maybe thirty or more Santa Claus motorists, in full Santa regalia, minus motorcycle helmets, drove by under police siren (policeman driver was also dressed up). What a fun and funny sight it was.

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)

Christmas Wonderland

Luebeck is an old town even by European standards: the city was founded approximately 900 years ago. Its medieval architecture creates a perfect Christmas backdrop or cultural wonderland: music events, art exhibitions, Christmas market abound. I love this city at this time of year, for everyone tries to outdo each other, in a very northern, understated-but-fine manner.

Even the cynics/ Scrooges/ Bah-humbuggers, like me, have a hard time not to be cheered by the lighted candles, classical music, spicy smells, and people milling around enjoying each others’ company.

The owner of the stationary shop (groth) and his wife live above the shop. Every year, they invite a brass orchestra to play classical Christmas songs before the open windows of their apartment for the delight of all the passing shoppers. Every hour they play for 15 minutes and then go back into the apartment to presumably libate their lips with mulled wine. During the progression of hours, the music they play is fueled more and more with good cheer.

Christmas Mark in the town centre is in full swing. Mulled wine with shots of schnapps, roasted almonds, and traditional baked goods are sold to masses of Scandinavian tourist from dawn to dusk. Heavens, can those Scandinavians drink! I’ve heard they can even drink the Aussies under the table. (Now how is that for exposing two stereotypes?)

A local goldsmith brings his living room centre piece downstairs to his shop and and displays his finer pieces of jewelry around this amazing beast. Yes, aghast, it is a real stuffed reindeer. But done ever so tastefully, don’t you think?

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)

Restlessness

In German, they call it having a “bumblebee in your bum”. In English, restlessness. I like the German expression better. The weekend has passed by jerkily: movies, meals, books, and shopping.

Talking about bums... I was in a restaurant the other day, and a three- or four-year-old (precocious) girl asked her mother how you spelled caca (in German, aa). The mother explained to her daughter that one does not write caca, but it would be written aa if she were to write it. The girl spent the rest of her lunch writing aa in her soup over and over again.

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)

Mid-afternoon Twilight

It’s four o’clock in the afternoon and twilight. By the time Christmas comes around, it will already be pitch dar. November and February are definitely difficult months; they weigh heavily on my heart. But, soon, my spirit will pick up for the holiday season. It’s just the before and after which wears the soul down.

Everyone I know (practically) is down with a grippe. Strange, don’t remember all these winter flues hitting everyone simultaneously. I remember we all used to get one or two colds a year. Sometimes a winter cold, sometimes a summer cold, which, oddly, we thought was worse than winter colds. Or maybe not.

Sara has her gym tournament tomorrow. Hammed, our neighbour, knocked on the door to ask when we (her loyal father and mother) were going over, so we could pick him up on the way over. Feeling Rather Guilty, I said neither Sara's father nor I had thought of going to the tournament. So, Plan B, I will pick Hammed up at twelve, and my loyal husband generously says he’ll do the ironing.

Reminds me of the last year I danced in the Nutcracker at Les Grand Ballet Canadiens. My mother's friends kept on saying how wonderful I was and my mother had to admit that she hadn’t seen me that year: though to give her credit, she had seen me all the previous years. There was a lot of tisk-tisking and so off she went with my grandmother to see me.

Every time I came on stage, my grandmother would say very loudly, “There she is. Isn’t she wonderful?” After the initial ruffling of feathers of the nearby audience for talking out loud, my mother said most people got into the spirit of my grandmother’s enthusiasm, and someone even pointed me out to her later.

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)

Stuffed Animal Love

Good day, except for the fact that my boss said he was not in agreement with one of the projects I have initiated. Oh well, win some, lose some. Now all I have to do is figure out how to change the “concept” of the project to suit his and the financial sponsors' expectations.

I am off tomorrow on a vacation-from-family weekend. Yes, my weekends start on Thursdays. Oh, the joys and delights of a part-time position. There is obviously a long list of disadvantages (e.g. economic belt-tightening, jealousy from colleagues, dead-end-street as far as possible promotions), but, on the other hand, turning off the computer on Thursday afternoon and knowing I won’t be turning it on until Monday morning, gives me a buzz every time.

Sara asked me whether stuffed animals ever die. I managed to quickly reassure her that they never do. The comfort and joy they give to her will always be there as long as she believes in them.

Sara worries that she is not distributing her love and affection evenly throughout her large stuffed animal menagerie. She takes two of the animals with her to bed each night but often feels that the other animals are coming up short on the deal: even though she rotates the pick of the evening.

So, the question is…. is this little obsession of hers stemming from the always-feeling-guilty Irish gene, the tending-towards-melodrama Italian one, or the let’s-make-things-complicated German favourite pastime?

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)

Heart-to-Heart

Last night Sara and I were having a heart-to-heart talk about life and death and why there is so much suffering in the world. (For those of you who feel this is not necessarily a topic that a ten-year-old needs to discuss before bedtime, it is Her Topic, not mine. A friend of hers told her about a boy in her class who had died of brain cancer last year.)

It was a rather teary and sad discussion. We twisted and turned around many aspects of these topics until she came to the conclusion that she just feels so bad that other children are suffering. My advice was to say, “If you don’t want to feel bad, then obviously you want to find a way to feel good. Maybe you can do this by doing something good”. So, she said she was going to make another drawing for Busayo* today and promptly fell asleep.

How I wish all of such discussions could be resolved so easily.

* A child in Kenya we are supporting.

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)

Rain, Rain, Go Away

Autumn vacation is here! At the start of this momentous occasion, the skies opened up and poured down on us steadily the whole day.

Sara had to be taken to the emergency room yesterday because she strained some muscle around her hip during the school’s relay race. She ended up hyperventilating with the pain and drama of the moment. She had settled down by the time I showed up at the track meet. The head of first aid services insisted that the hip should be looked into because it could be a fine-line break.

So, she gets to hobble along on crutches for a few days. I am hoping that her using the crutches will lose their allure quickly. She and Julien are supposed to go off to Erlangen on their own later this week.

(The first aid doctor had the audacity to ask me if Sara was someone who was resilient to pain or was she overly sensitive (translation - a whoosh). Pleease, he was talking about my precious Italian princess drama queen! I was so stunned by the question because of the audience: Sara, Julien, and other first aid helpers that I couldn't answer at first. Sara answered in a trembling voice but with total conviction: I'm more of a tough guy. Oh, don't you love self-illusion?)

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)

Sunday Evening

I finished reading, for the umpteenth time, the last book of the Mary Stewart Merlin trilogy. Now I am going to start on the second part of the Tintenherz trilogy. At long last,…. it's been four days now since I bought the book.

A dear friend wrote to say that the second breast surgery was completed. She is going to have to have radiation therapy but no chemo, and she doesn’t want to do the hormone supplements. Oh, how I hope she does well.

The German elections results are not shining at all. Liberals (SDP) 34%, Conservatives (35%), Green 8%, FDP (?) 10%. The FDP (yellow) says they will not agree to a "street light" coalition (red (SPD), yellow, green). So it looks like a large (SPD and CDU) coalition, which means no opposition party. Ugh!

I am sooooo happy that the Conservatives didn’t come in with a majority though. Who are they kidding; do they really think the liberals are responsible for the current economic problems and not the Kohl government of 16 years before?

There appears to be over 70% turnout…. pretty good.

Why can’t Bush be impeached for his lack of leadership and neglectful practices in New Orleans? If I remember correctly, Clinton was nearly impeached for having oral sex and lying about it. Surely the perversity of Bush’s inaction and the ensuing deaths can also be considered immoral…

My son has escaped into his sister's room to read and listen to the election results because I am writing on the computer in his room. She asks him to go through her French vocabulary list with her. He wants to know why I, her Mother, is not willing to practice with her. I tell her I am blogging. Priorities!

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)

One of Little Wisdom

Nature Girl, my daughter and I went off to the Saturday market. She thinks the magic of such an outing is to go reallyreally early in the morning. This thing of going at 8:30 AM is just way too late… I can sympathize with the cause, but I reallyreally do appreciate a bit of a sleep-in on the weekend.

Nature Girl and a boy in her class were voted as class speakers. She complained the other night about the fact that she has to do all the work (e.g. collecting absentee lists and passing on school news to the children), and the boy who is the class speaker with her is doing nothing. I, in all my adult wisdom and having worked in a “man’s world” for over twenty years, suggest that she ask him politely but firmly to take over one or two specific tasks for a specific period of time.

She didn’t think this would work. When I asked her why, she responded by saying that not only did this boy lack leadership skills (my words), but he is aways in the middle of any trouble that takes place in the class when the teacher isn't there. When I asked for a specific example, she mentioned that this boy helped hang another boy out of the window during recess.

Very quietly and calmly, I asked her what classroom they were in when this happened (their art room is on the 4th floor!). She looked at me as though I was crazy; what does the classroom have to do with this boy not doing his class speaker duties? It turns out that they were in their homeroom on the first floor at the time: but still, a head is a broken head if he had fallen.

I gave up. This whole topic overtaxes my Little Mind. So, I suggested she talk to her homeroom teacher about it. Thus, once again proving myself to be one of little wisdom or sovereignty.

Hippidy Birddray

It’s my baby’s fifteenth birthday! He asked for audio books (he got “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” (the English version… meaning British), “What Einstein told his Hairdresser”, and two others), gift certificate for our local bookstore, and Money from his grandma: to go towards a mp3 player he is saving for. He looked happy with his presents and was even happier when he called later in the day and mentioned that his fellow students made a bit of a fuss about him (not the actual words he used).

Was going to go on to yoga this afternoon, but I was just tooooooo poooooooped. Spent six hours in a school running from one project to another. Excellent teachers and very enthusiastic students. What more could I ask for?

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)