When the moon hits your eyes...

Regular followers may recall my Moondance posting 3 years ago--almost to the day. We had a similar experience tonight on this side of the water. We went for a walk late under a gorgeous full moon. We didn't need flashlights, partly because we're now in a more urban area with more ambient light and partly because we went to the optometrist this afternoon and had our eyes dilated. Boy was it ever bright out! I feel like I now know what a cat sees.

Not exactly Marlon Brando

Overheard at the Starbucks yesterday: Four middle-aged motorcycle "hoodlums" preparing for a multiday ride into the mountains of Maryland and Pennsylvania. One was a banker, a fact that came out when the others started complaining about tight credit. One was excited because the company he and his wife own (it involves yarn) had just landed a half-million-dollar order from Macy's, which was going to increase their business by 30%. One was going to have to leave the ride a day early because he had something to do at home. The fourth one never said a word. Yarn guy also called his mother-in-law to apologize because his bike had torn up the yard when he tried to get it up a hill. Yarn guy was chatty.

A Distressing Realization

Day before yesterday I failed to smile at a pretty girl. That disturbs me because it means the Yankees may have finally beat me down.

For the benefit of our non-Southern readers--if readers we still have at all--I should explain that the Southern lady (and Southern men afford all women that status until they prove otherwise) considers it her sacred duty to smile at any man she passes in a public place. This she does simply to spread the joy of her particular loveliness. The Southern man grows up expecting, prepared for, these pleasant little encounters. So imagine my shock when we moved north (and don't kid yourself, Maryland; culturally you are the North) and ladies did not smile when we met. Once when I was out jogging, a lady--another exerciser no less--actually crossed to the other side of the street, where there was no sidewalk. presumably to avoid having to acknowledge my existence. I doubt it was because I exude masculine menace. I have a house full of females. You can smell the estrogen on me, fer cryin' out loud.

Anyways, it appears that I have been away from home long enough to have grown accustomed to not being smiled at by the ladies. In fact, I seem to have gone to the opposite extreme and now try to avoid eye contact, so as not to upset those of the gentler sex forced to share corridors or sidewalks or grocery store aisles with me. So when I met a pretty girl, whom I actually know, by the way, I was not prepared to smile. That depresses me.

I hate to do this to you, but...

I apparently don't hate it enough to not do it to you. Our rate of spam comments has been increasing, so I've turned on the word verification step for comments. I'm sorry. Blame those who don't know how to behave in polite society. Are you listening, Japanese pornographers?

My Personal War Against Chinese Products

Alternate title: reducing the trade deficit one item at a time.

Last night I went to Target to pick up a few items and found myself consciously choosing NOT to buy two items made in China. I've long been put off by reports of Chinese products that contain stuff that's bad for you, or even lethal. I've rejected kitchenware made in China for fear of potential lead poisoning. But up until last night I hadn't really decided to make a real effort to choose non-Chinese products as a matter of course. So I spent considerably more on a cosmetic item by selecting the American product (hey, it was Neutrogena - that's a no brainer) and got what are most likely superior, name-brand Irish-made toothbrush heads rather than the Target-brand item made in China.

We have disposable income, so it's easy for me to choose to spend more to not buy Chinese. Still, if everyone made just a little bit of an effort to consider alternatives, maybe together we could make a dent in that massive trade deficit.

One Year Ago

One year ago today we returned to the US from our almost three and a half years in Belgium.

With the passing of this year, we have adjusted to full-time life in the suburbs, although not always easily and not always happily. After the initial feeling of being no longer fully American but not really Belgian either - because although we'd assimilated really well, we are in fact not Belgian - we have settled into our former American-ness but with an appreciation for what we were privileged to experience in Europe.

We miss European cafes and Belgian coffee and Belgian chocolate, but despite Belgium's claim to some of the best beer in the world, we do have good microbrews in the US that satisfy us as well as Belgian beer.

Life was slower in Belgium, but also more frustrating at times as we had to learn to adjust our expectations to meet the reality of life there.

We miss the peacefulness and safety of walking along the canal, but we do not miss those big horseflies that inflicted such nasty bites.

We miss the cool summer weather but revel in being able to wear summer clothes and summer shoes during the summer months.

We miss the long, long summer days but do not miss the long, long winter nights that encroach upon the day in Belgium.

We can no longer say "We just got back from three years in Belgium" because we're no longer just back. So now we look back and smile at the wonderful memories and realize we would not have traded our time there for anything. We are back in the US, but we retain a part of Belgium in what we have lived and who we have become.

Maybe it's time to rename the blog to something like "Life After Belgium".

Blooming in the front yard

In case anyone is curious as to what some of the landscaping looks like up close, here are two of the lily varieties.

One of the hydrangeas is bravely producing pink flowers, despite the hot, dry weather. The other isn't nearly as hearty and threatens every other day to succumb to the elements.

We also have small yellow lilies blooming. But what I can't wait for is the amazing azalea display we're going to have (if they all survive the summer heat and winter cold.)

Sand and Trees

Seen recently in Paris: this sign announcing that the city administration is putting in a temporary garden. Installation was ongoing as of 17 June, and the trees were to be there, in front of the hotel de ville or town hall, or until 17 July.

As part of the tree-planting process, they brought in bales of hay and tons of sand.















This end of the place in front of the town hall was already planted.















I find the planting of a temporary garden - sort of a temporary art exhibit - just a little puzzling in an era of high unemployment and budget problems. But what do I know? I'm just a culture-less American who doesn't appreciate the finer forms of art.

But now it's gone

Well, the whole beard for Belgium thing got kind of old, and I shaved it off Sunday night. But this is what it looked like before I did. Koen Fillet of Radio Één had said that day 365 without a government was long enough. I agree.

At last...

The porch is now finished. My brother and his son came up and worked like Trojans (no offense to Trojan-Americans intended) on the landscaping for 5 days . I don't know how they feel, but I think it was worth it.

Snow and Sea

More on our recent trip to France...

As we drove along the coast, we kept seeing scenery like this: snow-capped mountains in the distance, with the Med in the foreground. Awesome. I can't remember what town this is in the background, but it was where we stopped to get coffee - a real beach town that looked, at first glance, to be completely shuttered up. Then we discovered the harbor area where all the sailboats were waiting patiently for spring and some of the cafes were open.

This is a pretty typical fortress for southern France. This one just happens to be on the edge of the sea. Of course I can't remember the name of this town either (where are the maps when you need them?). I'll do some research and get back to you.

Our City House

Remember I said the road in front of our townhouse in Saint-Chinian was under construction? Like totally torn up.

This is a view of the back of our little house. It wasn't fancy and it wasn't big but like I said, the location was great.

They don't hate everything American

They pick and choose. Somehow they manage to love Ben & Jerry's. We were in Bruges on Free Cone Day.

In fairness, you hear less anti-Americanism in Belgium than you do in France, and even there it's all among the political pundits. Most ordinary Frenchmen have a pretty positive view of American culture. Of course, it's about as distorted as our view of French culture.

That ol' timey feel

I guess you can say that the porch is now officially finished, since they came and took the lock box off the front door day before yesterday. And this is exactly the reason we wanted it, to give our house that old-fashioned feel of days long gone when we all had time to sit and relax. And surf the web.

An Experiment in "City" Living

During our recent trip to southern France (pictures to be posted soon, we promise!), we stayed in a townhouse just a short walk from the main square in the village of Saint-Chinian. In past week-long vacations to France and Italy we've stayed in nice accommodations outside of town, which meant we had to drive to buy groceries, eat out, or do anything. But this time we decided to try living in town. And we liked it. While "town" was pretty small, there were several restaurants and cafes, three bakeries (although I never saw the third one), and a decent Sunday and Thursday morning market. Best of all, though, was the wine store almost across the street from our house. David and our friend Steve made a habit of visiting almost daily to have the conaisseurs there pick out a wine for our dinner, whether it was roast chicken from the market or asparagus (from the market) rolled in ham (from one of the butchers in town). Since Saint-Chinian has its own appellation (AOC) for wine from the region, there were a lot of wines to choose from, and almost everything we drank was really good, even to this diehard beer drinker!

As for our experiment in city living, we gave the house mixed reviews, but the location was ideal. Of course, the road in front of the house being totally torn up and thus closed to traffic made it quiet, in the front. It was a little noisier from truck traffic at the back of the house, but since that traffic was not immediately behind us, it wasn't all that bad. The house itself was adequate for the four of us but it was a good thing none of us is big or we wouldn't have fit in the showers. Can't beat the price though - we got an off-season rate of 275 euros plus a 60 euro cleaning fee for the four of us for a week.

We look forward to continuing our research into the many vacation accommodation possibilities in southern France (most of which, interestingly, seem to be owned by Brits...).

Babies

We had a visit over the weekend from a long-time family friend who just had her first baby. It's hard to imagine our children were ever that small. This was not a particularly small baby at birth, and the little one is now a month old, so she's grown. Wow. It never ceases to amaze me, though, how wonderful it is to gaze at a baby, to look at her perfect hands and little (or big, as the case may be) feet and little rosebud mouth and think about what a precious gift this little life is.

Don't get me wrong - I'm not yearning for days of yore. I'm perfectly happy with the empty (or almost) nest stage of our lives. It's just something about the innocent and simple perfection of a baby that fills me with awe.

Springtime, Grey Skies, and Windows

What the heck, why not plagiarize myself?

It's been a grey two days. Ok, you already know I don't like grey (and I can't seem to decide if I should spell it gray or grey). As I sit here in my Mom room (not quite a man-cave but it serves the same purpose) gazing out the windows, I'm looking at a grey sky. As I look a little closer I start to wonder: is it really all that grey, or are my windows just that dirty? The answer lies somewhere between the two. But it does remind me that one of the functions of spring is renewal, and renewal - when it comes to houses - involves at least in part that infamous ritual called spring cleaning.

In theory, it's a good idea. I would love to have Belgian-clean windows. (Yes, folks, windows in Belgium are CLEAN. Those ladies are out there every week with a squeegy.) But I'm more in love with the theory than with the practical aspects of how you get clean windows. When I get truly inspired, I can manage to clean all the windows in one room. That leaves only, oh - what, 8 more rooms? not counting the basement, which hasn't seen clean windows since at least 1985, when we moved into the house. Maybe when I retire...

Springtime!

With the time change this past weekend, it's like a dark cloud has been lifted. We had two gorgeous early spring days, the kind where, even though it's still cool, you know winter is on its way out. The grass is still sparse and we have only one lonely crocus up, but that one crocus is the sign that we made it through the winter.

Meditating on spring brought me two realizations:

- This is the our first spring in Maryland in five years, since we moved to Belgium in February 2007. It's been so long, we've forgotten what's planted in our yard. We're waiting - somewhat impatiently - to see which bulb flowers will come up and where.

- As cold as this winter was, I have the impression it wasn't all that bad. We didn't get a lot of snow, especially compared to what this area got in the winter of 2009-2010. But I think it's more than that: it occurs to me that I've been comparing this past season with the three long, dark winters we spent in Belgium, where the only daylight we saw during the week was when we emerged from our cave to go up to the main building for coffee each morning. And more often than not, it was a gray daylight. Gray is the default setting for sky in Belgium. Here, we wake expecting a sunny day, and it's the exception when it's not.

I don't miss gray, but I sure as heck will miss those long summer days!

Animals

A couple weekends ago we went to Portland, Maine to visit my college roommate, whom we hadn't seen since Becky's college days. She and her significant other have two cats and a dog, so we got a good pet fix while we were there. Below you see Annie, who is one of the sweetest dogs I've ever met. She and Ollie need to get together to see who can run the fastest and the furthest.

Then there was Jack and Quinn. Jack is the redhead, Quinn the grey and peach one. I've never seen such a color combination, and I was quite taken with Ms. Quinn. If we hadn't been flying, Quinn might have been taken too.

We do miss having pets - sometimes. On dark, wet, or icey mornings, we don't miss it at all. Most of the time we're glad we can just pick up and leave without having to worry about making arrangements. But still, there's something uniquely comforting about stroking a loving pet. Sigh.

As Promised

Porch furniture yet to come...

Stay Tuned!

I was going to post this yesterday, and the title was going to be "Almost, But Not Quite". That is, the porch was almost, but not quite finished. They'd put up the lattice, installed the lights and fan, and smoothed out the big piles of dirt in the front yard. All we lacked was reinstalling the two shutters they took down and removing the lock box from the front door (for some warranty-related inside work they were also doing). Unfortunately I got called to dinner before I could post. Fortunately, however, the guys came back today and hung the shutters. So - one of these days - and soon, I hope - we'll take a pictures of our brand spankin' new front porch and post it. Maybe we'll even get around to getting furniture for it...

Oui, on peut! Ja, we kunnen!

Yes, we can. Since the raging Belgian political crisis (no government for 230 days and counting) may be sliding by under your radar, I call your attention to an article on the crisis and what some Belgians are doing to protest the failure of their elected officials to actually…well, do what they were elected to do: govern. I appeal to all the leftover campus radicals and the never-had-a-chance-to-be-a campus radicals to join the protest and grow a beard for Belgium. It may not make much of a difference to the politicians who refuse to step up to the plate, but at least you can sleep the extra few minutes you would otherwise spend shaving every morning.

Winter Wonderland

Hooray! We finally got some snow. We've had a series of teasers over the last several weeks, with minimal snow and some ice. Yesterday morning we awoke to a couple inches of snow and slogged our way into work on unplowed roads. Then it rained throughout most of the day, with the rain turning suddenly to snow around 4:00, and boy, did it come down! We hunkered down in the house with a fire to enjoy it.

Views of the backyard, which is far prettier than the front yard these days - although the Porta-Pot has a lovely mantle of snow draped elegantly over its rounded roof.

Take that, old man!

My father is so proud of the port-a-pot they had across the street from their new house for a couple of weeks. But they never had one in their front yard like we do. At least it's out there during a cold spell. Imagine if we hadn't dawdled about getting the new porch under construction. So we see, once again, that procrastination pays.

Christmas Minus One

Better late than never - and since we heard in church this morning that the feast of Jesus' baptism marks the end of the Christmas season for Catholics, this one is gonna just squeak in under the not-to-late-to-post-about-Christmas rule.

Christmas 2010 was the first year we have celebrated without our intact nuclear family. Even though Rachel moved out long ago, she's always been with us or we with her for Christmas, whether in Columbia or Hautrage or Rochester. This year was different, with Rachel and Stephan staying in Rochester, and Becky and Sarah didn't like it. They decided that, since our family order is now immutably different, we also needed new traditions. So instead of waiting at the top of the stairs for the parental go-ahead to check out what Santa left, they came downstairs on their own. Instead of the ritual "open presents, pause for breakfast and to make monkey bread, and then open some more gifts," and in view of the smaller, more adult Christmases we'll now be having, they opted for opening all the gifts before preparing a big Christmas brunch - with no monkey bread. (We saved that for Repeat Christmas a couple days later with Rachel and Steve in Rochester.) It was a little sad for all of us to realize that life changes as the girls grow up and establish their own families. It made me think about how our parents must have felt the first time we didn't "go home" for Christmas because we'd realized it was time to start our own family traditions.

Life changes, but if we're lucky, it goes on. We hope that, as our girls move on to new phases of their lives, we will have the opportunity to share in the rituals and traditions they and their families establish.

And we wish all of you a happy and blessed 2011.