A Beautiful Noise

Moving

2008-10-22T21:15:00.002+02:00

I am in the process of moving the blog to Wordpress...so bear with me.

The new site is: www.annelongstreet.wordpress.com

As Promised.....

2008-10-21T20:25:00.002+02:00

Pics from Spain...tho not many b/c I'm completely tired of uploading vacation memories and sending them all over the GD place. I'm on facebook. If you're on facebook...there is a more extensive collection there. It's time for bed.

not such a bad pic for using the old jittery left hand

dead guy in St. Michael's Cave in Gibraltar

baby monkey butts and Cate's shoes...they were going after her for her slushy..it got a little hairy after I snapped this photo.

some beach.

Closing the book on Marbella. Adios.

31.

2008-10-15T10:30:00.002+02:00

Yesterday was my 31st. Which is very odd, because inside my head and I guess my heart, I still feel like I'm 16....without all the hateful things that come along with being 16...like high school, acne, and a string of terrible boyfriends minus one or two.

I should say this though...yesterday when we were running to catch our tour bus before it left us in Gibraltar...I was heaving like a fifty year old and having chest pains! WTF is that about? Not enough power yoga lately, that's what.

So we spent the day yesterday amongst the monkeys and regular folks of Gibraltar...a British territory across the street from Spain, known as "The End of Europe". I'm going to go into a bit of Gibraltar history here, b/c I knew noting about it except that John married Yoko there when the FBI announced him as a Communist/Terrorist threat to society. Poor guy wasn't allowed to travel back home to England to marry so he somehow made it to Gibraltar to get the deed done.

Right. So before Colombus sailed in 1492, everyone thought that the world ended at the Rock. It's also where the Atlantic meets the Med. It now has a population of 30,000...which consists of Jews, Muslims, Brits, Spaniards, and Italians. It has heavy Moorish influences since it's right across the way from Tangiers....mosques as well as churches and synagouges. (did i spell that right?) Not mention a family of 300 monkeys that live among the masses as neighbors. If you need to go to hospital for any reason, you may be sharing your room with a sick monkey seeing as the hospital on the Rock also cares for them as well.

Great shopping. Everything is tax free, so the folks on the tour were snatching up tobacco and booze like crazy people. The funny thing is, these booze hounds chewing on cancer sticks were all elderly. I think they hopped on the tour just for these goodies. Anyway, I snatched something shiny, myself. A nice little blingy, half priced Birthday gift from me to me.

All in all, Gibraltar is a mix of New Orleans and Bermuda. If I ever come back to this part of the Continent again, I would prefer to stay there than anywhere else in Spain...er Britain...whatever. Again, pics to follow soon...including one with a monkey reaching out and resting his leg on my shoulder and the skull of a neanderthal preserved inside the Rock. Pretty neat..as my dad would say.

Spain: Day 4

2008-10-13T08:51:00.002+02:00

Despite some run-ins with bad tempered weather, we seem to be having a great time when all is said and done. ....Cate in particular. What was originally planned as my birthday get-away, has turned into a three-year old's dream vacation. .....swimming, playgrounding, cartoons all day long when the weather is crappy. Sean still remains miserable most of the time. I've come to the conclusion, he's not fond of Spain....or it could be his molars....or possibly both.

Yesterday we taxied into the old town of Marbella. Very quaint. Until we wandered a little too much out of the old town and things had the possibility of getting hairy. I'm ethnic-looking enough. We blended.

Today is a bank holiday...Columbus day. Nothing is open so it seems I'll be getting a massage or something around nap time. Tomorrow is the big day. The day I join the 31 club. We'll be in Gibralter with the monkeys. Can't wait! And then possibly we'll be following in the footsteps of Picasso Wed or Thurs.

I wish I could upload some of the pictures we have taken so far, but uploading takes forever in the villa. Be on the look out for a Marbella montage once we get back home to Zurich.

Isn't that something? How I consider Zurich home? Even in Spain, I miss it. Rick says the same. I know going back to the States is going to a difficult time for all of us. I think we are Swiss forever, now....if they'll have us.

All this time, I thought I was a beach type person. Turns out nothing compares to the mountains of forrest I get to see everyday outside my living room window.

Spain: Day 1.5

2008-10-10T21:14:00.002+02:00

Here we are....in Marbella for those of you not keeping up....or for those you who have better things to do...which I hope is the case.

So. (Europeans say this a lot. Pretty much before and after every sentence. I've begun doing the same.)

So...Day one went something like this: arrive in Spain...Cate announces to the entire plane once we land that "I'm never doing this again!" Apparently, she is tired of travelling abroad and not afraid to say something about it. Little does she know, we are not taking a cruise back to Zurich.

We check in at the hotel and it seems like paradise...no...it IS paradise. It's a freakin botanical-lost city of Atlantis-paradise...for about 2 hours. Then the sky darkens, the wind picks up...and I mean it picks up just about everything that is not nailed down to something...and the rain begins. This doesn't bother me. I love a good storm. Rick, on the other hand is dashing back and forth from the laptop to the window for play by play weather updates for the rest of the week.

Right...so skipping ahead to bedtime. We're thinking we have it in the bag. The kids are exhausted..or as Cate says "zausted" from travelling all day. They're sleeping for sure. What really happens is this: Cate begins her asthma attack promptly at the moment of our heads hitting our pillows. This lasts until about 4am when her meds finally begin to kick in. Meanwhile, on the other side of the villa, for reasons unknown, Sean is working up a very impressive fever. He's as hot as a hot pocket (I know that is not lost on some of you reading this....).

The night began with my husband and I in a fluffy king sized bed with too many pillows to count and visions of delicious sound sleep dancing in our heads. It ended with us both in seperate beds, each with a sick child. Not what we had in mind.

Right about now, (at this very moment, I mean) we have been awake far too long..we don't even know how long, exactly. But we managed to get in some ping pong, swimming (indoor pool, of course) and a windy walk on the beach.

Just some random crap: you would think that the market place inside the hotel would carry such essentials like a thermometer or maybe some baby tylenol. It doesn't. My fault for not bringing the thermometer, I know. But a kind stranger overheard us asking for one and demanded that I let her take me to the pharmacy down the road. Sure...I was worried for a second that I might end up on the black market somewhere...but my love and concern for Sean helped me to look beyond that possibility.

Also, after being the in the villa about five minutes, Cate was already using the (how do you spell it) toilet to wash your bum as her own sink. She was very proud of herself and showed me her exact technique.

More updates and photos to follow...as if there were any doubts.

Forward

2008-09-30T21:23:00.003+02:00

It's Monday night and I have nothing else to do except take some great Swiss drugs for my migraine right after I finish this blog. So here goes: (this originated from my sister's blog btw)

Ten things you wish you could say....no names

1. I'm going to be 31 and am still waiting for that apology you owe me.

2. You'll never know how lonely it was without you, how long I waited for you, and how much it hurts being so far away from you.

3. I'm glad you finally got an idea that something was up after four years of me waiting around for the light bulb to go off. I fell in love in slow motion just like the movies. I think there were even fireworks.

4. I can't believe how stupid I was, even though a teenager. It still haunts me, just as you do.

5. No offense, I think you were always gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I just wish you would come out of the closet, already.

6. I'm sorry, in advance, for anyway that I may be effing you up right now.

7. I've asked around, and apologizing via email or voicemail does not count.

8. How can I possibly show my gratitude and love for you and your family over so many years..... and stupid boyfriends, 3 kids, one divorce, and too many garage parties to count?

9. You always were (and still are) the light at the end of my tunnel.

10. I hope someday, before it's too late, you will understand me.

Nine Things About Me

1. I'm lazy most of the time

2. That's b/c I love to work under the gun

3. I'm in love with Walt Whitman (like you didn't already know)

4. I wish I wrote just about every Bob Dylan song, myself

5. I've had clinical depression and post partum depression and I'm still here

6. I take drugs for both of these, and I'm ok with that (up yours Tom Cruise)

7. I cannot stand Oprah Winfrey and her stupid book club. I wouldn't be caught dead on that list.

8. I've been writing since the third grade and still have my first notebook of short stories from 1985

9. I'm going to be famous after I'm dead.

Eight Ways to Win My Heart

1. Be funny..mostly about yourself

2. Have some manners, for god's sake

3. Love Walt Whitman and Bob Dylan (or else don't even bother)

4. Don't talk to me about Conrad's Heart of Darkness

5. Send Oprah some hate mail

7. Bring me Chinese without me having to ask for it

8. Let me sleep in

Seven Things That Cross My Mind Alot

1. Dick Cheney is the devil

2. Am I cutting it as a mom?

3. Am I cutting it as a wife?

4. Why does Cate hate me already?

5. AP

6. These circles under my eyes aren't going anywhere

7. When can I go back to school?

Six Things I'm Afraid Of

1. The GRE

2. cockroaches (like you would not believe...hyperventilation will take place)

3. Losing one of my kids at the mall or something

4. "growing up undone"

5. another republican president

6. Dick Cheney

One Confession:
ok ok, I'm really in love with Oprah. I'm just so jealous!

In a Rut

2008-09-24T16:24:00.002+02:00

Is it possible to be stuck in a rut in the middle of Europe with so much to see and do? Yes.

I view ruts as very dangerous things. It makes it possible for one to seek out opportunites to really mess things up. These things can run the spectrum of getting another stupid tattoo, dying your hair the wrong color, or something much more serious. Like personal sabotage to shake things up a bit....which is my M.O.

The moral of this story: everywhere is the same. Six months in one place and you're bound to be like: "yeah...that's an alp...so what?" or "been to Austria, France, Germany, Italy...big effing deal." The more things change the more they stay the same.

Glad I came to this conclusion. I was always looking over the fence at the bright green perfectly manicured lawn of another....thinking how much cooler it must be over there rather than wherever I happened to be.

It's way cooler over here, but that gets to be boring too. So...looking forward to Spain and some sun and some beach. And uh, that's about it.

Love In The Time of Cholera, Swiss Neighbors, Going Home, I know why the Swiss jump in front of the trains, Whitman..and a melee with Vishnu

2008-09-17T16:43:00.003+02:00

Starting at the beginning, but I will not promise that it will go in any type of order from there.

Ally brought me Love In The Time of Cholera last visit. I finished it with the hopes that it would blow my mind the way A Hundred (or a Thousand..who knows?) Years of Solitude did. It didn't. Which is good news, because now I surely won't waste the time seeing the movie that's been taunting me from the F drive ever since we downloaded it. I was hoping for less of a happy ending...more of a tragic one. I was hoping she didn't diss him and he didn't try to screw her out of his memory....(that's such a male thing to do). I didn't get how all his pointless lays were really out of "love". (whatever) It would have been better if she remained madly in love with him throughout her dull loveless marriage and they continued their love affair through their letters for fifty years....and then....something awful happens to one of them...almost like brokeback mountian but not quite.

In other news, we have new neighbors next door to us in apt. 56. They are finally the stereotypical swiss couple I have been hearing about but have yet to come in contact with....icy, silent, and punctual. They are very good at giving the swiss stink eye when they think you're not looking, but then you suddenly turn around because you can feel the stink eye upon you and ah ha! Rick and I have figured out they hate us for all the reasons the Swiss hate outsiders: we have children, they are loud and keep strange hours (even for Rick and I and we're they're parents), and we yell back at them.

I have heard whispers from other expats who have it on good authority, that the reason why Swiss children are so well behaved is that they are beat on a regular basis at home. I don't know if this is true or not but sometimes I think that couple next door fantasizes about beating the crap out of my kids...and maybe even me and Rick. I can see it in their eyes.

Did you know that you're not supposed to flush your toilet here past 10pm? Apt 56 is most likely making notations of all the after 10 flushings that take place in Apt 55. And there are many. Cate is champion nighttime pisser.

Oh yeah, they also hate us because right below them, a family with three little boys just moved in a couple of weeks ago! Ha! When I hear those kids downstairs slamming the doors and riding the elevator and running the halls, I get the chuckles. Is that evil? Yes.

So...something like 94 days and we are stateside again. I'm ready and I'm not. Really, no matter where you live for an extended period of time, it all starts to resemble the same thing. Once you've scratched your travel itch, you start to long for something familiar. For me, it's two things: my sister and my dog.

...and of course Jessica and the Hurricane and dad and...

But you know what? And I'll say it, too...nothing and no one is as cuddly as Abby. Sorry, Rick.

What else..uh...I get why they have a high suicide rate in Switzerland. Once September hits it's like living in Seattle until May. The Swiss' fave way of doing themselves in??? Hopping in front of the trains....there are just so many to choose from.

Ah, Vishnu....not the Vishnu that comes your or my mind...but the Vishnu who attends the Swiss International School with Cate. For some days now Cate has been asking me...eyes wide with terror...if Vishnu was going to be at school when I dropped her off there. I have no idea...was my answer...not even really caring anything about her anxiety over this Vishnu. (I have to say, hearing Cate trying to say Vishnu the first couple of times had me rolling.)

Until today. Yes, there was a brawl in the lunchroom and Cate and Vishnu had it out with one another. She wanted his crayons, he scratched up her face. Teachers were devestated, I felt bad for not honing in on this Vishnu character with my mother's intuition long ago, and Rick always wants to kill...I mean it...really KILL, the person who hurts his little girl - even if said person happens to be three feet tall and twenty pounds. The damage isn't that bad, but I'll be keeping an eye out for you Vishnu, so watch your scrawny little back.

So, for those of you who don't know, or don't know me at all: I'm in love with Walt Whitman. Bob Dylan is a second only by a nose and that doesn't really count, because I consider him the reincarnation of Whitman, anyway. What I'm getting at is, I left my Leaves of Grass at home. I pleaded with people to send it to me. Alas, they did not take my heart ache seriously.

See, I need Whitman like water. Which is an odd way of putting it, because I don't like water at all very much and what he does to me is the opposite of water's qualities: he puts a fire in my chest where I hope my heart resides and fresh breath back into my lungs...see nothing at all to do with water.

I broke down in an addict's frenzy, ran into the english bookstore and snatched the first copy of Leaves of Grass without even looking inside. Turns out I bought the wrong version. What would have cost me $9 at home ended up costing me $23 here and half of my favorite pieces were missing. Oh, the tears. Anyway, this is an exmaple of the Whitman I love:

A GLIMPSE,

through an interstice caught,Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room, around the stove,late of a winter night--And I unremark'd seated in a corner;
Of a youth who loves me, and whom I love, silently approaching, and seating himself near, that he may hold me by the hand;
A long while, amid the noises of coming and going--of drinking and oath and smutty jest,
There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little,perhaps not a word.

Walt Whitman

or maybe this..one of my favorites:

O You Whom I Often And Silently Come

O YOU whom I often and silently come where you are, that I may be
with you; As I walk by your side, or sit near, or remain in the same room with you,
Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is playing within me.

Walt Whitman

That's it. I was disappointed by Love in the Time of Cholera, I purchased the wrong version of Leaves of Grass out of haste, and my Cate is having issues with a Hindu Avatar's namesake, my new neighbors are marking down our flushes per day and I could use a little sun.

Ally's Gone, Dad is Gone..it was the best of times, it was the worst of times

2008-09-06T20:19:00.003+02:00

There has been little to no blogging. Yes...this I know. We've had two extraordinary weeks of family visitation....way more important than upkeeping a blog.

Plus, I am now totally addicted to scramble on Facebook so all my free time, when I should be mothering my children, is naturally spent unscrambling scramble.

In short, I am exhausted. Two weeks of the Uteliberg, the Lindenhof, the Short Round Trip on the ferry, seizing more chocolate at the Lindt store, Luzern and of course, downtown. Not to mention Uncle Mike's four hour lunches and dinners and too many bottles of red wine to even begin counting.

Good times.

Except now I am mourning the loss of my father to Jersey. Upon dropping him off at the airport I did what any sad daddy's girl would do: immediately found the nearest Bata shoe store and came home with new flats and a bag. My newfound happiness got me through until lunch time, which is when I began crying into my lunch. Rick immediately put me down for a nap and stepped into rock mode...taking care of all daily matters until I felt better.

A little red wine was all it took and some whining on the phone to my sister and mom.

Dare I say, I think I may be ready to come home?

Rama Sita, The Uetliberg, & Cate falls under the train

2008-08-24T22:46:00.003+02:00

Yesterday, we took the tram and the kids to see the Rama Sita exhibit at the Reitberg Museum..in the swankier part of the city.
The highlight of the day was the Tibetan/Hindu exhibit....oh and the Japanese art. Love that Japanese art...especially Crescent Moon Reflected in Water.
It was all very romantic. Black and white photos of India, stone Buddha's from 520...not even in behind glass. Bad idea, since I tripped and almost took one out.

And today...where do I begin? Let's start with me getting to the station and announcing to everyone that in the rush to get out of the flat...I forgot to take my meds. The look of horror on Ally and Rick's face is unexplainable. Just use your imagination. From here, as we're boarding the train, Cate misses a step and falls down between the train and the platform. It all happens in slow mo..she trips...and I see her face slowly begin to disappear under the step of the train. I snatch her up and of course, she is hysterical and then asks for a snack.

It's only a 20 minute ride up the Uetliberg...known as the top of zurich...spectacular views after a little uphill hiking. All free fun.

Ally with her Longchamp bag and a tree growing out of her head.

The Limmat and Alps

Cate refusing to take a picture...per usual.

p.s....bring your own lunch, as ours cost 80chf..for a couple chicken nuggets.

Just a Regular Sunday with the Longstreets

2008-08-17T18:58:00.002+02:00

So this weekend was pretty chill....thank you very much. After Disney, climbing the Alps, and various other mountains...travelling for day trips to Germnay and and Austria, it's nice to just stay home once in awhile and be the Longstreets again.

Left to our own devices this is what happens when we have to entertain ourselves:

This is Sean doing his best Jack Nicholsan, One Flew Over the Cukoos Nest

This is me doing my best deranged Snow White

And this is Rick throwing Cate into a fountain

Happy Sunday.

Kiss my Ass Days

2008-08-14T14:11:00.003+02:00

Yesterday was one of those days where I didn't want to be anything to anyone. I was in my "kiss my ass" mood....which I developed during my second pregnancy.

It came upon me suddenly then that I didn't give myself enough credit for the things I do for my family and others. Moms always drag around a thousand tons of guilt with them wheverever they go. Am I effing up my kid in some new way that Jung would have written tomes about?

When I was nearing the end of my pregnancy with Sean..which was no picnic, (I hate it when pregnany moms go on about how great and sexy they feel...) I started allowing myself to have "Everyone can kiss my ass" days. I realized I needed these days once in a while to give myself a break. So Kiss my Ass days go something like this:

Cate is allowed to watch all the TV she wants and even her meals can be whatever she feels like having. Want some chocolate chip cookies for breakfast, Cate? Wonderful! And all those parenting magazine writers and super moms (kelly ripa) can....you guessed it...kiss my ass.

Uh oh...the phone is ringing for the 100th time...guess what??? That can kiss my you know what, too. If it's that important leave a message.

Oh my, it's time to get dinner ready...hmmm...looks like tuna sandwhiches and chicken nuggests. If you don't like it, you know what you can do.

And Rick, don't even look at me with the hope of getting some at bedtime on kiss my ass days. He already knows this, but I'm just putting it down for the rest of you.

A few other things I like to do on these days:
extend naptime: no one is allowed to leave their rooms after naps until mommy says so or mommy wakes up...there's plenty of stuff for Cate to do in her room without setting us on fire and Sean is content to look at his mobile for eons of time which freaks me out most other days.

early bedtime for everyone under the age of 30. uh ha! The perfect solution to a day's worth of moaning and groaning and the perfect way to end a Kiss My Ass day (along with a bottle of wine).

How come you didn't return my call, anne?
How come the dishes are still in the sink from this morning?
How come dinner isn't ready?
How come the kids are still in their pj's?
How come it looks like nothing has been done here all day?

Wanna know why? Because everyone can Kiss my Ass today. I'm taking a nap.

And then it's business as usual the following morning. Too many of these days in a row and the someone is calling Human Services on you. To whom I would most likely say Kiss my ass if they showed up at the door.

Some things I miss, Some things I don't.

2008-08-10T23:30:00.004+02:00

So, the summer is almost over. Even in Switzerland, where the sun doesn't set until 10pmish. And I can't believe that I'm missing the Jersey Shore.

Not Seaside or Long Beach Island...my hair stands on end just thinking of those places.

I miss Ocean City and Avon. I miss coming off the highway and smelling the beach before I could see it. My dad would crack a joke about this saying that his toilet smells the same way. I love that smell. (Not the toilet one, the other one.)

That's about one of the only things on my short list that I do miss. The others being friends, family and Abby...my dog, my love, my big hyper drooling mess of yellow hair who looks very scary but wouldn't know how to hurt someone in self defence, even.

I don't miss Jersey humidity...not a friend to the curly-haired girl. Or the driving, or supersized EVERYTHING...being supermarkets, walmarts, and home depots, or coke's at Wendy's. I'm short. Super sized stuff gives me anxiety.

I surprisingly do not miss TV...my biggest vice...and tool of satan especially crafted for the sometimes known to be lazy Libra. Oh, and Jersey Mommy and Me playgroups...which I mistakenly thought were really for the kids and not a petty, caddy social hour for moms in full make up at 8am. Guess who felt out of place showing up after just rolling out of bed and still trying to get the toothpaste off of Cate's face with some spit?

I did meet Alyson and her little Lauren at a playgroup. And together we bonded by making fun of everyone else....sorry ladies. And I can't wait to get back home and do that all over again!

That's it. I had a thought today about how I missed the beach and it turned into some other things too by the end of the day. Which has been and gone and is time to put to rest.

The French Ghetto and,oh yeah, Disneyland

2008-08-07T17:38:00.003+02:00

Only three full days in Paris and so much to write about.

First of all, I really don't care how fabulous the people of France claim to be with their Haute Fashion and their skinny jeans and stilletos and- I don't care if I get lung cancer at 30 and take you with me- attitude....it doesn't matter how great you look, when you have to dodge dog poo and turned over garbage block after block. Really people, get it together and clean up your city.

Ok...this blog has been long awaited by some. I hate working under pressure.

Five hour train ride with one kid and one baby...went fairly well until the train rolls into the Parisian Ghetto and Sean looks at us like this:

And a word to the wise, or the brave: don't even think of the subway system. You'll have to ask yourself: "do you feel lucky, punk, well do ya?" And the answer to the question in this context is always NO.

It's in the french underground where I'm having a very illogical thought for a 30 year old : "Get me to Disneyland.....help!" Normally, I wouldn't be caught dead in anything Disney. But the benefits outweighed the risks.

After riding a couple trains back and forth and getting nowhere, I look at Rick and say through gritted teeth and with firey eyes: Get us out of here. To which he almost salutes me and says yes ma'am. In a dash we're in the daylight. And I found myself thinking I liked it better underground when I couldn't see what was going on.

The best part: for several blocks, Cate screams at the top of her lungs: I want to go home! I guess the smell of urine and pot wafting out of the barber shops were too much for her. And just a side note: I've only been 2 places where it smelled like pee and they are Paris and New Orleans. Coincidence? I dont' think so.

I put on my : don't eff with me, my ancestors were from the continent,too-face-and we walk at a brisk pace (ahem, slow run) to anywhere but where we happened to be. I managed to snap this pic on the run...I have no idea what it is:

And then..our saviour..or so I think. What is that rolling up to this panic stricken family on the street corner? A taxi....a mercedes...and a driver in a suit. We're safe, my heart beats in my chest. But nothing is as it seems in Paris. We say: Disneyland. He says shrugging his shoulders in his french -I'm pretending not to understand you way-50/60 euros. We're in. Hook , line and sinker.

It's a no brainer. He gets "lost". And we pay more than 60 Eruos for a series of nauseating u-turns on what looks suspiciously a lot like the Jersey Turnpike.

I've never been so happy to see a pink wedding cake of a hotel in my life when we finally get there.

Oh, Yeah. Disney was great. The staff was excellent....and Sean was a great hit among everyone there. But don't drop a binki because no one is picking it up for you outside of Switzerland. in fact, anywhere else, and they might just stop to grind the binki to bits.

I love Zurich. Just yesterday a man in a suit on his lunch break came flying after me with Sean's blue bear in one hand and his briefcase in the other. God only knows how far back I had dropped the bear and how out of the way this poor guy had to go to catch up to me. Thanks, man. There would have been many a sleepless night without blue bear.

God, I love the Swiss.

Header Change

2008-07-29T08:59:00.002+02:00

I'm tired of Post Partum Depression. It's out of the Header. Pretty Soon out of my life.

Guten Tag, PPD.

Easy (Free) Rider

2008-07-27T20:08:00.002+02:00

This posting is dedicated to the moocher. We all know one. If we're really lucky, we have a realtive who is a moocher...someone looking for a free ride at all costs (excuse the pun).

I am lucky enough to have a family mooch. So is my husband. But that's for another blog entirely. The name of my free rider will remain anonymous so as not to embaress certain other family members who gave birth to her and also have an inkling of an idea of something called "responsibility".

Anyway, don't you just hate it when you open your home and your heart to someone who needs to catch a break in life and then that person takes advantage of your kindness and leaves you with a $120.00 phone bill? I'm living in Zurich, people. One of, if not theee, most expensive places to live. 120 gets me groceries for a FEW days. But I digress...

So, no...my feelings aren't hurt. And I'm really not that surprised now that my hindsight is perfect. But I have to wonder...did she think we weren't going to get a phone bill-or even look at it, for that matter? It's the arrogance of the mooch that gets me. The aura of entitlement that surrounds them and enters the room before they do.

The free rider leaves an especially sour taste in my mouth. We all have our pet peeves when it comes to certain people. The freeloader is mine. I have no time or inclination for damning the man at other people's expense. Don't get me wrong..I damn him every chance I get...in a very "not wanting to step on the toes of others while I do it" kind of way.

The person out there right now...and you know who you are...who left me with the bill has a thing or two to learn about....well, everything. And to quote a very wise young man I know by the name of Max Owen, the Karma Train always comes around and makes its stops on time, my friend.

Tunnel of Babel Update

2008-07-25T21:26:00.002+02:00

Just a quick update on the multicultural construction taking place outside our flat. Things are getting interesting as you can see:

Yes, that is a Swiss Umbrella hat

Striking his best catwalk pose

That's it.

Just a quick word on the New Nazi Youth

2008-07-24T18:42:00.004+02:00

I could really do without running into these guys while I'm doing my grocery shopping.

Let's just say it's a little disturbing to be picking out produce and turn around to see a gaggle of shaven tatttoed heads in cammo. Are they making chicken soup as well? Is that why they are in line for the carrots too? I never thought of what Nazi youth eat. Hitler was a vegetarian. So I guess carrots aren't that out of the ordinary for them to be waiting patiently for.

Anyway, I wasn't betting on having to elbow my way through groups of these guys to get to the cash register on a regular basis while living here.

I mean, do the KKK wear their sheets to the local drug store to fill their prescriptions? No. They save their linens for special occasions so they don't freak out the locals as they run their errands.

An Ode to the Migraine

2008-07-22T09:27:00.004+02:00

This is day three of my latest migraine. Let's see...I started receiving the gift that never stops giving in my early twenties. There are many different kinds of migraines.

My fave is the one where your eyesight just magically and suddenly disappears in one eye....whilst driving.

There are the migraines where sound just sounds evil. And where sunlight is the kiss of death. I usually suffer from the latter. And the occasional blinding kind, which the first time I had, I thought I was having some kind of religious experience.

I've tried the myriad of migraine meds available. Their side effects were worse than the headaches. One medication was actually mimicking stroke-like symptoms in my body such as slurred speech and loss of feeling on one side of my body. When my neurologist told me not worry,that there were at least twenty other meds I could try, my reply was forget it. I'd deal with the pain in my own way. Right now that means swallowing 4 motrin at a time, which has a disaterous effect on one's stomach in the long run. And let's just say that I am in the long run.

Many, if not most, migraine sufferers become drug addicts. One will do anything to stop the pain and get on with their lives when all other avenues have failed. At one point, I was on a prescribed barbituate. Fortunately (I guess) I was not allowed any refills...without more pictures of my brain being taken first, which I put off because of pregnancy.

We don't want to be dependent on drugs just in order to accomplish our normal daily activities. Unfortunately, this happens all too often and we will do anything to get our hands on a real pain killer....lie and steal if we have to.

I'm convinced that my doctor knows nothing. She was more concerned about the shape of my tongue and the beauty mark on the inside of my toe than my head. The only person who has really helped me is my chiropractor. Who I am seperated from at the present until dec. Hence the return of the evil war raging in between my ears.

So, this is what someone looks like after three days of this nonsense:

Is that grandma?

That reminds me: A big shout out and thanks to Grandma Schieve for this family legacy.

Forgetting Meds, and Fanny Packs

2008-07-21T19:43:00.002+02:00

There's a new trend amongst our European cousins. Seems as though the Fanny pack ( which never lost its popularity over here) is no longer resigned to the....fanny. The hip way to wear the pack now is slung over the shoulder.

I'm still not buying into it. The day I get a fanny pack is the day I get a mini van and paint some flames on the sides...HOT.

Oh yes, this morning, I think I forgot to take my meds. So I did what any responsible adult watching two kids for an entire day would do...I took them again, just in case...Let's just say it was a really good day.

Via Con Dios, Jess and Edison, and an Irish Blessing for the Lass

2008-07-20T13:30:00.002+02:00

Yes, it's true...my Biff (BFF) departed this morning for the states.

Here's to the great times we had together. And here's to hoping we see you guys in Ireland come November for Sean's first birthday. Time to learn all the words to Danny Boy.

Here are some last pics and sad faces:

Why hasn't anyone told me that my head is John Mayer Enormous in proportion to my body?

Farewell, Jess:
May the road rise up to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back,
May the sun shine warm upon your face
And the rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of his hand.

Minau (spelling?) Flower Island, Germany,and Schmetterlings

2008-07-19T10:48:00.004+02:00

Friday 18, july 8:15 am....all kids dressed, fed and accounted for we catch train numero uno for the airport where we catch train numero due straight to Germany. Our destination? The Flower Island of Minau. Yes, we have been there before, but didn't get to experience everything and the weather this time around was gorgeous.

I'll be brief in the Hemingway Short Story Lean and Mean tradition (that was for you Ally).

Best parts of the day were mos def the kids on ponys and the Schmetterling Haus (Butterfly House). I took way too many pictures of those bugs but how often do you find yourself in a rain forest-like hut being attacked by the most beautiful little insects in the world?

Enjoy:

This guy has some important summer reading to catch up on.

Edison and Jess kicking it cowgirl style

Cate looking cutely confused.

All in all, you can spend the whole day on the island. It blows Boboli in Florence out of the water. As you can see:

And this is just the tip of the iceberg...this place goes on FOREVER. Worth Every cent.

That's all for now, my little Schmetterlings. See my facebook page for more butterfly redundancy.

Swoon

2008-07-16T21:48:00.000+02:00

A Big Shout Out to my Jungfrau Peeps and the Asian Community

2008-07-15T08:07:00.002+02:00

So much to blog about...so little coffee this early in the morning.

Sunday (two days ago) we finally made it to the top of an Alp. It was amazing...awesome (in the true meaning of the word 'awe')...it was a once in a lifetime experience. Do you know what's on top of an alp? Snow. Blinding, stinging, bright snow. And wind.

All in all, I probably stood out on Jungfrau with a screaming three year old for a good....five minutes. I have proof:

That's Cate under there. Needless to say, I was not dressed for the occassion.

There were tons of other impressive things about the Alp trip....catching six trains to get there and a beautiful landscape of mountains and waterfalls to gaze upon during the ride there:

Interlaken East, my future retirement community.

So, on said alp, there's an ice palace to walk through and sculptures to admire....and blood on the floor from previous visitors who have as we like to say in the house "ate shit" or wiped out. And yes, the double stroller was skating its way through the palace with the rest of us.

Personally, I had two favorite parts of the day. One was visiting with the husky sled dogs and the other was watching the asian sightseers being more blown away by my kids than than their actual destination for the day.

Could have stayed here all day. <3 He was kissing my ear. That's a lot of action for a mom of two.

Thank you so much ladies for keeping my little ones entertained in between train stops and a big thanks to your male counterparts for helping with that stroller...tool of satan that it is.

Loving up my little boy. He was way more cute than Jungfrau. You can't cuddle an Alp.

And finally, this one sums up the entire day for all of us:

Too much Alp for one day.

I do reccomend making it to the top of Europe, as they say over here. Take your kids, the double strollers, and a billion bags of snacks and toys. Do whatever it takes to get there and pray that there will be a thousand of our asian brothers and sisters to help. We couldn't have done it without them. Thanks, guys.

Rick is Sleep Deprived & My Little Pony

2008-07-08T07:43:00.002+02:00

So our three year old, Cate, has about a dozen My Little Ponies....big ones, small ones..(this blog has nothing to do with living in Switzerland, BTW. But it is about how having kids makes you completely crazy)

Each pony has its own name...and you're supposed to guess this name by an encryption on the pony's ass. These little symbols mean nothing to most parents. They make no sense to anyone above the age of four. (except Rick) They are mostly flowers and lolipops and ribbons. I know Flippity Flops name only because the symbol on her butt cheek is a pair of flip flops.

This morning (7amish) found me and Rick arguing over who is who. He claims he tells them apart through process of elimination. He has gotten all of them right, when we start to argue over Breezy Dreams true identity. Meanwhile, the three year old is standing between us confused and dismayed that she can't get her ponies away from her parents. At this point, Rick has accused me of hiding one pony to make his process of elimination faulty. (She had rolled under the couch, I swear).

First of all, the supposed breezy dreams has rainbow hair and the symbol on her butt is a flower...tell me how that means "breezy dreams". This is my argument. Rick has had enough and springs off the couch to google the pony. I have to take leave to the powder room. With the door shut, I hear a muffled "A ha!" from down the hall. Then a tap tap tap at my door while I'm finishing up. "Yes????"

"Did you know that there is a pony identification website???" He says.

"I had no idea."

He's waiting for me on the other side of the door, wiggling his finger at me to follow him. Sure enough, the pony in question is waiting for me on the computer and her name really is Breezy Dreams.

To which I say: Rick, you are sleeping in, tomorrow.

Swiss Line Dancing

2008-07-06T16:17:00.002+02:00

Just a short note that I HAD to make when we stumbled upon some Swiss Country Western Dancers downtown this afternoon.

Take a Look:

As Rick said: These guys are hardcore. About 5 minutes later it started to downpour and the dancing continued.

Who knew that satan's favorite form of entertainment had made it all the way over here? Just when you thought you were safe from Country; it catches you unawares.

Again.... Skinny Jeans

2008-07-05T19:56:00.004+02:00

I phoned my dearly beloved (why does that sound like I'm preparing her eulogy???? hmmm...) and explained that I finally went clothes shopping. (Which I despise) A couple weeks ago, I even splurged on some ballerina flats which she and apparently all of Europe are raving about. They are not the least bit comfortable, but I have to admit, my feet never looked so damn hot.

So, the first thing out of her mouth is "did you get some new pants?" What she really means here is: Did I finally brake down and get some skinny jeans? Of course, my answer is and always will be "no" to this question.

I have to be honest with you Ally: There aren't a whole lot of people over here wearing those things and I think I know why...two words: yeast infection.

In fact, I see more people donning the crunchy granola look of yours truly...except for the occasional mom pushing a baby carriage in stilletos and an adidas track suit.

What's my motto at all times, Ally....lest you forget.... Don't believe the hype.

My pants fit just fine, thanks.

Short Short Jean Shorts & The Ting Tings

2008-07-04T20:14:00.004+02:00

This week, and the past, as the weather soared here in Zurich to a sweltering 35 degrees c....I learned something about European fashion and my usual flawless ability to hone in with my gaydar. (I wish there was a better word for this)...but I don't want to say..."and usual flawless ability to pick out gays"...but I guess I said it anyway so you know what I mean.

What I'm getting at it is sometimes (most times in Europe) when a man is wearing really tight short jean shorts he's not necessarily gay....he's just European....and trying to cool off.

Sorry I don't have any pics of this phenomenon but I do have pictures of Sean getting stuck under the kitchen table.

We found him here after a short search of the flat. He's pretty fast with the army crawl.

On a musical note: I think I really like the Ting Tings (We Started Nothing)..So you should like them too before they hit mainstream America and their imagination and talent goes down the toilet...thanks to the usual Radio Recipe.

So I would describe them as Debbie Harry meets Modest Mouse meets Joan Jett but in a really hip rockin way. Get me? Still, they are no Dave Grohl. But for me to reccomend a band, for those who know me, is a pretty big deal. ( God, I love Joan Jett)

Anyway, the lead singer is a really adorable blonde, so it's only a matter of time before the big THEY lure her into Britneyhood with $$$ and Vicodin.

The Ting Tings. Go.

Twitter

2008-07-01T21:17:00.000+02:00

I'm doing the Twitter thing. I have no idea what this means. So, help.

A Word on Multicultural Construction Outside My Flat

2008-06-30T08:54:00.002+02:00

This is what's going on outside my flat.....I mean RIGHT outside my window...everyday.

I don't even know what this does...

I don't even know what this guy is supposed to be doing, but we see a lot of this behavior all day long.

Must be break-time....again

So these guys are buiding three new tunnels and tracks to the Zurich Main Station right below us. The project is going to take three years. At the rate they seem to be moving at, I'll bet money it's going to longer...much longer.

The greatest part of all this...besides the amount of noise streaming through our windows mon-fri 7am-5pm...they're all different nationalities.

The workers fly their Portuguese, Spanish, German, Swiss and Italian flags with pride on all their machinery. My question is: how are they communicating with one another to get this job done? The one thing they all know how to do in the same language is make noise...noise that you still hear in you ears after they have stopped for the day ....I suppose that's a universal language.

Said supposed "tunnel"

Do you have a flag????? No flag, No crane.

Austria, Mt. Pfander, and Speedos

2008-06-29T08:16:00.002+02:00

So yesterday (Sat.) we strapped on the kids and met up with Rick's friend from work, Timo to skip over to Austria for a bit. Our Destination? Mt. Pfander where at the top lies a wildlife preserve along with the best views of mountains that I've seen yet here in Europe.

The only way up these mountains is by ariel car. I have no idea how the people who live half way up the mountains get back and forth, as I have yet to see roads leading the magnificent homes there.

Waiting for us at the top of Pfander was the set of The Sound of Music. I've never seen so many hills and mountains in one place. Of course, the wildlife had its share of goats...the most wild animal you'll see around these parts. Cate had fun at the children's park on the peak of the mountian and actually fell asleep on the train ride home from being out in that pure mountain air all day.

So take a look:

Today we're off to the pool park where pictures are prohibted because of the freakish amount of nakedness and men in speedos. Sorry, there will be no pictures for the curious.

Some thoughts on the freakish amount of child bullies in Zurich

2008-06-27T19:50:00.003+02:00

Firstly, I'm sure that there are only a few bad apples in the bunch, and all those apples live in my neck of the woods.

What is up with the kids around here? I've had visitors describe them as "children of the corn-like". I, myself, have experienced a more aggressive side of the children in my swiss neighborhood. I've been holding it in, doubting myself...thinking that maybe I'm just a big softy when it comes to the feelings of my own kids. But after today, I've come to the conclusion that I was right all along. There IS something wrong with these kids and worse yet, their parents. Some examples:

My three year old has been repeatedly beat upside the head at her playgroup where parents are suppossed to be supervising their kids. Instead the parents look on at the mele with a glazed, almost mother's little helper-stare and say nothing to their own children about keeping their hands to themselves. One smack I can take...two or three even...I mean three year olds will be three year olds...but more than that, with the assailant's parent watching? I thought there was something wrong with me for wanting to do something until another mother stepped in and called the parent on the negligence of her own child....the rescuing mother was from Great Britain, mind you...not Switzerland.

Other transgressions include time spent at the park. Last week a little girl poured dirt over my daughter's head not once, not twice, but three times....while myself, my cousin, and my three year old screamed NO...Stop...And this little minion of satan's father just stared on with no emotion on his face at all...no alarm that dirt had gotten in my poor baby's eyes, all down the back of her shirt. We all were physically pushing this little monster away but she just kept coming back with more dirt...her tongue sticking out of her mouth like a troll. I've asked other expat friends, and apparently she's famous around town for this sort of behavior.

Today was the icing on the cake. My daughter approaches two youngsters about her age at the park and instead of getting a welcome to play, she gets stoned. The monsters pick up fists full of stones and throw them over and over even as she runs away. Of course, mother is sitting on the bench taking it all in. I pick up my screaming girl and we leave the park. It must have dawned on zombie mom at that point that her kids were up to no good because I could hear her German scolding as we exited the park area.

I'm not going to tell my daughter to start hitting back or to begin throwing stones. But what do I tell her?

Well, I usually just tell her that these kids around here are the spawn of satan and that she's the best little girl I know..that not to worry because there lies a special hellish parallel dimension waiting for all them and she'll never have to be bothered by them again. Then I tuck her in bed nice and tight and kiss her precious little cheek. As she is sleeping soundly, I'm working deep into the night on voodoo dolls of every little bully I come across here in Zurich and their Stepford Moms.

Ban the Double Stroller

2008-06-26T17:56:00.003+02:00

The double stroller...the bane of my existence. The hummer of prams....if you will.

The Swiss look at my monstrosity of infant transportation with absolute disgust...sometimes I get an occassional surprised look as if they've never seen anything like it...and they probably haven't.

Why? How? In this world of bigger, better, and more, has Europe missed the boat on the Double Stroller? I'll tell you why: Their kids, once able to walk, are expected to walk, not lounge like a prince or princess while mommy pushes 50 plus pounds in an uphill country.

Around these parts, the infants get the luxury of a ride, and older siblings walk next to the stroller, do not sit in it.

I realize the reasons behind the look of disgust I'm getting are many-fold. Part of it is that my stroller surely announces me loudly as American. I can't even get by as a Canadian when we're out with it. Another part, is that I realize my older child appears lazy as her Swiss three year old peers zoom around on their scooters, ride their trikes, or simply just hold mommy's hand as they use the two legs they were born with.

Could the double stroller be a factor in childhood obesity? Is it the first easy chair recliner of our child's life? Is all that is missing when we strap them in a portable dvd player and a remote?

As I finish this post, I hear the words of my long deceased grandmother. Whenever I asked to be carried or said I was too tired to walk, she would simply say: "Didn't God give you legs?"

"Yes." Sheepishly, knowing what was coming next.

"Then use them."

A little note on travelling with kids and the Alps

2008-06-23T08:54:00.002+02:00

So, throughout this whole experience so far...being in Rome, Florence, Germany, even simple everyday places here in Switzerland, I've neglected to mention the impact of travelling with small children...pretty much one of the main points of this blog.

Travelling to Italy with a six month old was much easier than travelling with the three year old. A baby is portable and goes with the flow. A three year old is very routine driven, still, and any gliches in that daily routine can cause the mother of all meltdowns....at the Collosium....the Trevi Fountain...the Domo...you name it...and we had a tantrum probably at every historical pit stop along the way in Italy. And the icing on the cake was being vomited on when our plane landed back here in Zurich.

Standing on a street corner in Rome some American sorority nut walked by and commented in her valley girl voice as she looked on at us in disgust : "who brings a baby to Rome?" Besides wanting to subtly stick my foot out and watch her tumble into the Forum, I wanted to correct her. It should have been "who brings a three year old to Rome?"

Besides all this, I realize you can't stay home until your kids are 18 and then don't want to go anywhere with their parents anyway. I don't NOT reccommend travelling abroad with small children, I just recommend making sure you're prepared...if that includes special toys to keep them busy, extra snacks in case they don't like the local cuisine, and having all your crazy pills packed and accounted for to keep yourself from having your own tantrum while standing in line to climb the Domo. And topping a tough day abroad off with a couple glasses of the house wine, helps make the evening go much smoother.

All that being said, we did some great hiking here yesterday in the swiss wilderness and got some spectacular views of the Alps because the weather was amazing. Even the three year old had some fun here and there.
Hiking with our friends, the King Family

Note to Self:

2008-06-20T20:46:00.001+02:00

Never abruptly stop taking Klonopin again. Those were some nasty hallucinations....

Luzern

2008-06-20T09:42:00.003+02:00

Two weeks ago the fam took one hell of a trip to Rigi mountain...6000ft up. It started in Luzern by steamboat. Then we ended up on what looked like a hundred year old rail car vertically up the mountian. We were in the clouds. Other than that, it was a spectacular view down into the forest and the town of Luzern. Once we reached the top of Rigi, there was a bit more hiking to do, but not much to see, seeing as the fog was extremely heavy. We're lucky we didn't lose anyone. And if this double stroller we have makes it the rest of the time we're here in Europe, I'm having it bronzed when we get back home.

After lunch and a few "drinks" (which we needed for the next leg of our trip) we all hopped on an ariel car that took us pretty much vertically down the mountain. I'm so proud of Cate. She had a front row seat and wasn't the least bit afraid. She's a pretty brave three year old seeing as some adults could barely look.

So take a look:

So...Just a few words on some of all this:

Please everyone take note of he live baby in stroller above and sleeping aunt Ally on the bench who is suppossed to be providing the adult supervision. The hiking must have been too much on her. I sure do hope the wheels are locked on that stroller.

As far as I'm concerned, the picture of the adult having a beer with a baby slung over her shoulder is too fuzzy to be incriminating.

Skinny Jeans and some recent sights

2008-06-19T17:59:00.002+02:00

Ok...

I've been remiss in keeping up with life here in Switzerland and the sights we've taken in. I'll be brief. I have two kids who are screaming at the top of their lungs as usual....

About a month ago we went to this fantastic place known as the Rhine Falls. It's Switzerland's answer to Niagra Falls and is right around the corner from Germany. Rick's co-worker, Timo was kind enough to show us around and then take us to his nearby home of Schauffhausen...which was eaqually impressive. Take a look:

Alright...

I don't care how good I look in Skinny Jeans, I'm not going back to that place where green neon frilly socks are right around the corner. Sorry, Ally.

Also, Allyson has left us for the Jerz. Take a look at some photos of us being sad about it as well as her meeting a nice egyptian fellow on her last night in Zurich. What luck!

Flat Irons, Blowdryers, Wet Towels, and no Sex

2008-06-11T15:25:00.002+02:00

I'll call this one a companion to the post before it...poor Rick.

Walking home in the rain from dinner last night at Mama Mia's...a real hotspot here in Oerlikon...we stop and get Rick his favorite dessert: vanilla ice cream with some caramel....the caramel is a very important element to the story.

I can't remember exactly what brought upon his almost epileptic outburst but very suddenly I was witnessing a man becoming overwhelmed by so many women issues that the caramel was dribbling from his chin as we stood there in the rain.

Terms such as "sorority house" were being thrown at me. As well as "Everytime I go into the bathroom the toilet paper is gone, and all the towels are soaked!!!! What do you girls do in there??? I'm tripping over shoes, flat irons, and blowdryers all over the place!!!!"

Please keep in mind that we are standing in the rain with melting ice cream. And then he hits me with this....of course

"....and I'm not even getting any sex!!!" By this point, I still haven't gotten a word in yet. I sheepishly open my mouth to make up some kind of excuse for my lack of physical affection but I'm cut off. He's on a roll and there is no stopping him.

"....and I give up!!!" His declares to me ...throwing his arms out to the side and a stream of caramel flying over his shoulder.

"...I'm not trying to get any, anymore! I'm done. That's it! "

To which I say " Ok. Can we still be friends?"

House Full of Women, Poor Rick

2008-06-07T20:03:00.003+02:00

My poor husband has so gracefully put up with a flat full of relatives...all females for almost two months, that I just have to mention it and give him some serious kudos. And we all know what happens when women spend a lot of time together...certain uh, anatomical things start to sync up....poor, poor, poor, Rick.

...not to mention that our three year old is a girl, as well. That's an entire issue in and of itself.

I have seen looks of both desperation, frustration, and confusion on his face daily and our super supply of Motrin is mysteriously disappering at an alarming rate....and this is the state of things when we're all getting along. I can't even imagine what must be going on inside his brain when we throw a cat fight in there.

He tries his best to keep a low profile, but when there are four females under one roof and one man, someone is getting picked on, and it's not us girls.

Keep On Keepin' On

2008-06-02T13:54:00.002+02:00

Probably the thing I am impressed most about by this country, is the elderly. They are just as active as their twenty/thirtysomething counterparts. Compared to these counterparts in the U.S. they are way more active.

The are everywhere, for one...they're hiking, they're climbing through caves and down steep steps carved out of stone at the Rhein Falls. (where I fell down after my first five minutes on the scene.)

These guys just strap on their little canes to right underneath their elbows and there is no stopping them. They run for the buses, the trams, the trains. They will hipcheck you out of the way if you are taking too long to get onto one of these forms of transportation. It is refreshing to have a constant reminder everyday, that life never stops....not even when some of your body parts do. You just have to drag them along with you and keep on keepin'on.

I think back to some of the people I know back home just in their early sixties and how they have let every infirmary they have keep them down...on the couch, in the bed, depressed and worried about what might happen if they DIDN'T listen to their Dr. and actually got up and out of the bubble they have put themselves in. They seem so much older than the old ones here. It's even in their faces: "that's it...I've hit 60..where's the nearest casino?"

My mother's mom was vain enough to the point where when she had to start using a cane, she just gave up her activities. My dad's mom was vain to the point of refusing to where a hearing aide once she lost all of her hearing. Imagine having a grandmother completely capable of interacting with you...just choosing not to...just giving up.

The Swiss would never do that, I suspect. I suppose their may be a few exceptions here. I've only been around a few months. But the majority of the people I see running around here like mad are not my age..they're much older and they accomplish it any possible way they can.

Wait Wait Wait

2008-05-30T14:28:00.002+02:00

My sister reminded my I forgot to mention that in Rome we also saw the Trevi Fountain.....My favorite part of the city.....as well as the Collisium (spelling?)

This upset her greatly that, as my personal tour guide, I was remiss in mentioning these worth-mentioning sights.

Here's the proof:

That Fam

2008-05-29T19:50:00.002+02:00

My wonderful, beautiful, talented, and not-at-all-cranky sister FINALLY welcomed me to the 21st century today by teaching me how to add pictures. Prepare yourself for Anne's blog - version 2.0

Why Haiku?

2008-05-29T14:49:00.003+02:00

I'll tell you why Haiku to all of you out there rolling your eyes and thinking that it's not real poetry. Also, Haiku comes in way more handy when you have two kids and only three minutes to take a shower while you make the grocery list and come up with some creative lines.

It's a challenge. Be abstract with limited syllables while still making some semblence of sense. That being said, most of my haiku is probably shit, but I'm going to keep at it and when I'm dead, someone will find my shitty haiku fifty years later and call it a masterpiece.

I'm willing to wait that long.

Anyway, I'll give you a taste, but not too much...I'm waiting for my ship to come in, man

...your outline remains
where dewy mists meet mountains
you face the waters

measure displacement
find the statistic for tears
only sixty years

The Return

2008-05-29T14:05:00.002+02:00

So, we're back from Florence and Rome...how do I feel about this? I like making lists. That will be my plan of attack for the majority of this post:

Rome:
1. Ruins and Forum: excellent. Thank god that wall is there around them, because I tripped and almost took a header into the centuries old rock pit.

2. St. Peter's Sqaure: also excellent. Something you should see while still alive. No sightings of the pope. Not that I'm upset about missing out on meeting a ex-hitler youth.

Those were the main things we saw in Rome. Bought a Rosary and accosted a priest on the street and demanded that he bless them. I don't pray the rosary, but my grandmother did and I figured I might need them someday...like on my deathbed.

We mainly wondered around Florence and came upon wonderous things one at a time...like you do in Europe. Everything belonged once to the Medici. More of a laid back feeling. People sooooooooo friendly. Especially when you run over their feet with a hummer of a stroller and they apologize like it's their fault. In Zurich, if you do this you better be wearing your sneakers b/c you might be getting some swiss spit on you.

Climbed the stairs of the Domo and now I can say I saw ALL of Florence.

Ok, now what it's like to travel with small children:

I would say any child under the age of one is cake. The three year old is a completely different ball of wax. I have an entire collection of photos of just Cate throwing a tantrum.

All in all, it was a great trip. A trip that that had to be taken. Another notch in the belt of a would be world traveller. And another piercing.

Oh, one more thing Italy: 2 words: Street Cleaners.

I'm tired of being Italian, It's exhausting

2008-05-21T13:58:00.002+02:00

That being said, we leave for Rome in a few hours. I am pretty much the only one, except for few others, that have never been to the "homeland" as my family insists on calling it. Nevermind, that I have other homelands: Ireland and Germany and God knows where else. And I' not even ITALIAN. My grandmother was Sicilian by way of Northern Africa and France. My grandfather never considered her a true Italian. Seems to me, I have many homelands.

So, to the point and the reason why I have avoided Italy to this point: I already feel as though I have been in Italy my entire life minus the art and random groping by Italian men. My mother's parents lived with us. Let me explain what this means. Close your eyes and picture this: an old lady hunched over something in a pot on the stove that smells like nothing I can compare it to. Nothing ever went to waste. There were fights at the dinner table between my mom, her aunts, and my grandmother over who got to eat the ass of the chicken, known to us as the "pope's nose". If there was nothing for salad, no worries: grandma was in the backyard picking dandilions to make up for the missing greens. I have plowed serious gardens, made sausage when my grandmother's hands didn't work as well any more, all done at an age where if the authorities were alerted, the old woman would have been taken away in the paddy wagon for breaking child labor laws.

Dinner time went something like this: grandfather sitting across from my little sister without blinking in case she should start choking on something. No talking...unless it was politics. Otherwise, quiet, because grandpa's little sister once almost choked to death while eating supper. (love you pop pop rip, i loved all our checker games and golf lessons..nice try)

No one dared touch there plate until my grandfather and father were served first. If you reached for a serving spoon before that you got a crooked old man finger in your face stating the first line of grace "In the name of the FATHER". Spoon was dropped promptly. And this absolutely had to be explained to friends who were visiting at meal time. After every meal, if there were left overs, my grandmother would proclaim" Joe Schieve will eat it" (my father ,who she insisted on always using his last name). And should he protest, he would be dealing with not only an old Sicilian woman but a also a Leo.. My father has lost a good amount of weight since her death. He looks quite trim if you don't ask my mother.

If a friend or young man were to come pick me up and beeped the horn for me to come out, I was instruucted that I was not a dog and that I do not respond to horns or whistles. This had the potential to get quite awkward as the friend waited in the car beeping and I waited in the house unable to communicate my grandfather's decree to them.

Now onto the Uncles. Three of them. My mother was the only girl of four. Every Sunday was family dinner. Cousins...aunts...uncles....and me trying to find a place to disappear. The passion of conversation, the yelling, the bullying of drunken older men....not my style. I dreaded Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, and every Sunday. Being the shy black sheep, I was prime meat for anyone in a drunken stupor to pick on which usually came around dessert. I suppose this gave my mother a break since she was the one usually bullied, and so she let them say whatever they would to me. And a little girl never talks back to her elder Italian relatives. Trust me...I tried. Probably why my mother swore at a young age that she would never marry Italian, and so she didn't. And how grateful am I for the father she chose.

All this and a lot more I can't remember or choose not to, are the reasons why I stayed away from the homeland. As far as I was concerned, I was trapped in Italy my whole life.

So, I guess tomorrow I face one of my fears. Going to a place inside me that I've been trying to scrape out for a long time....trying to suck that part of my dna out from my veins. Maybe I'm afraid I'll remember all the love ,too ,that came with my grandparents when they moved in with us. I'll be reminded of the distance I purposefully put between myself and numerous relatives. One thing is certain, I wil be reminded of my grandmother and her faith in God, and falling asleep at the end of her bed at night, of her beautiful singing, and her nickname for me: Bella. I will be reminded of childhood. Something I suppose all of us want to forget bits and pieces of.

Ya ya Returns to Zurich and Cake gets Thrown Everywhere

2008-05-16T15:14:00.004+02:00

This is Cate waiting for her ya ya (aunt Allyson) to come back to Switzerland. She really hates the sign...but her mom is making her hold it anyway. Ya ya finally made it, mommy was the one left holding the sign, but everyone was happy to see each other.

Now onto the reality of coming back to inhabit the same space with children after you've been gone for a few months:

Ally came to playgroup today to help me lug a hummer of a stroller with a combined wieght of fifty pounds. Then onto shopping. All I have been craving for two days is this cake I found here...I have no idea what it is called...but the icing is green and it's filled with custard, which is all I really require in life. We're at the market, THE cake is in my hands, and before I know it, cate has picked up a stupid chocolate cake of her own and heaved it to the floor. Ally now has cake all over her pants and feet and of course, every swiss person in the Migros has witnessed the entire melee. So, I ended up buying half a freakin messed up chocolate cake instead of my custard one.

I guess it's been an ok day. That cake better taste damn good. And Cate isn't getting any! jk Pretty soon it will be 5 and I will have a glass of wine in my hand, sitting on my swiss balcony, nibbling on pizza, and my custard cake will be just a memory. Till next week, sweet cake, till next week. Here's to hoping the cake comes out of ya ya's pants.

An Inconvenient Playground

2008-05-14T21:52:00.002+02:00

So, by the way, I hate this new lay out. I hate all the lay out templates actually, but I will decide on one eventually.

Anyway, Here in Europe, I've noticed that kids still play on the playgrounds...everyday. And they are made of steel, and have pebbles and cement as the base and the chains on the swings on rusty, and there may even be a nail sticking out somewhere on the sliding board. And there you will find hordes of families gathered every afternoon, smoking, eating, playing in the dirt pits, swimming in the stagnat ponds, and you won't here a mother scream "no!, don't touch that!" or: "stop! you're getting filthy!"

The children swing so high they fall off and land in the stones and get back up again and swing some more without a terrified parent running over to see if heaven for bid there should be a bloody knee.

Reminded me of the parks at home in the states. The ones made of rubber and fiberglass with recycled tire chips to give a safe landing. The parks, that for the most part remain deserted, because parents are afraid of perverts and it's such a hassel to get the kids in the car in the car seats and drive there. Plus, who really wants to leave the house since the new wii came in the mail?

I love these parks. I love that my kids come home completely filled with dirt and sand and that their pants are wet from playing in the water fountain. I love shaking the pebbles out of their shoes when they come home and scrubbing under their finger nails b/c they were creating something in the mud. You can find these timeless tiny parks everywhere within walking distance of your home.

I'll really miss these simple little playgrounds full of kids doing all the things we would never let our own kids do back home.

Some things brought to my attention lately

2008-05-10T20:35:00.003+02:00

Firstly, I totally fucked up this blog...so bear with the extra heading I can't fix it

Anyway:

Some things worth noting:

Women in addidas track suits with stiletto heels

Old ladies on scooters...not vespas, mind you...scooters

Running cows...cows in Jersey lay around and all they need is a remote control, I freaked out when I saw my first cow running across a field. I didn't know they had it in them.

Just a couple things i saw this week that have been on my mind.

Some things brought to my attention lately

2008-05-10T20:32:00.000+02:00

Why Dave Grohl?

2008-05-06T15:21:00.002+02:00

To that question put to me by so many, I say :Why not Dave Grohl? Who else out there is keeping good old fashion rock and roll alive? I'm talking ROCK and ROLL, people...not emo, not experimental crap, not whinny, or gutteral screaming nonsense. I'm talking about a man, his guitar, his perfect pitch voice and endearing ability to make fun of himself and the whole machine he is a part of.

That's why...Dave Grohl. The fact that he's totally hot when he leans his body into the mike and his hair is all over the place might have something to do with it, too.

Rock on Dave, Rock on.

Why a Beautiful Noise?

2008-04-29T20:11:00.002+02:00

Some might be wondering about the allusion to the Neil Diamond tune as the title of my blog. (And I dare to find amongst any of you one who does not hold at least one Neil Diamond song to heart.)

When I can't remember if I have brushed my teeth...when I undress only to find I have put my underwear on backwards, and when i shower but forget to wash...That's right, I just kind of stand there staring into space with the water running wondering how the hell I am going to pull off this day...when these days are upon me, it's the sound of my Cate and Sean that get me through one more moment. They are my beautiful noise that keeps my going second by second. Along with a heaping cocktail of drugs and a tiny glass of wine at night. Also not to forget the yoga. But that laughter, those running footsteps, those never ending three year old questions that could split your gut with laughter...my beautiful noise I am blessed with, that will see me through this.

Things I Love About Switzerland

2008-04-27T08:46:00.000+02:00

Dogs...everywhere...dogs on the buses, the trains, in the stores..and very well-behaved swiss dogs st that. I must say the dogs have better manners than some people I know

Being able to see my husband everyday instead of every couple of weeks....awwwwwww

Perfect central location in Europe to see just about everything...except Turkey and Russia... :(

The pretzels that are sliced down the middle and filled with anything you want...custard, cheese, butter.... yummy

I have yet to see an alp, but I'm sure I'll love it

Today we're going hiking, (with a three year old and a 6 month old)so I'll let you know how much I love that or not

The Aljazeera network...now I know what's going on in the world instead of what's going on with Britney Spears

The bread....and butter...and cheese... so then why am I losing so much weight?

I'll get back to you on the reccomendation of whether or not you should take young kids swiss hiking.

Things I don't miss about the U.S.

2008-04-25T17:11:00.000+02:00

Here is my disclaimer, first, I'm not unpatriotic...in order to be so one would have to feel they have an affilalition with a place. I do not. I'm a member of the world, not just one corner of it So...things I don't miss about the U.S.:

Driving...being able to walk to get whatever you need is true freedom

TV...you don't realize it until you leave your couch in the U.S. that your life revolves around it and it is the devil's plaything

The presidential Race...either way, we're screwed and nothing is going to change

My Neighbors...some of them...especially the woman who yells all day long for her cats. If you need to know the whereabouts of your cats at all times, please keep them indoors.

Shitty journalism...enough said

Junk food...seriously, I'm not kidding. There are no fat people in Europe. (I think)

No Manners...an entire generation of mannerless idiots have seemed to reproduce in the U.S. and it was the generation before mine and after mine.

Sweat pants and pj bottom wearers..people actually dress before they walk out of the house here, even if it's just to take the dog for a walk.

That's all I can think of for now. Any additional ideas are welcome!

Don't Call it a Comeback

2008-04-22T13:52:00.000+02:00

I'm not jumping on the "let's hate China" bandwagon that's been making it's way around the world lately with the Flame. I've been on the wagon since highschool. Maybe I'm even driving it sometimes. I've had the bumper stickers, the T-shirts....Free Tibet! When my peers were asking me, what the hell is a tibet?

So, I should be happy that all my marching and letter sending and lecture attending just might be paying off somehow, right? Instead I get this feeling of, it's too little too late. We're talking about a massacre of people and a culture that has been taking place for almost 60 years. And not a peep about it until now? Not even a nod in the direction of the Tibetan people until sports get involved? I really can't find the word that adequately describes my feelings about this, but if there is a word beyond disgust...that's the one.

Tibet, like Darfur, has nothing we need. No oil, no other natural resources to take advantange of....so march on China. Who are we to bite the hands that feed the USA?

Now, I see desperation in the eyes of a people who are raised to know compassion for everything that breathes....especially their enemies. Now I see hatred in the eyes of monks and nuns instead of hope and prayers....while the world keeps buying the trinkets China churns out at us.

This is the last ditch effort. This is the Tibetan people's moment. If the US and other countries do not boycott the Olympics, another moment like this one to bear witness to the plight of Tibet may never come again....back under the radar they will go while our next President makes his/her niceties with the Chinese government. Just another boss same as the old boss and the Tibtans are looking to us for change. They are done hoping. They are doing. They're asking the same of us.

Becoming Swiss

2008-04-21T21:09:00.000+02:00

Been in Zurich a month. Here are the pros: BBC everything, Aljazeera English, No more Bill O'Reilly or even Cnn for that matter...I see my husband everyday instead of every couple of weeks, the air up there is great, everything is in walking distance, and everything is beautiful.

cons: it rains almost everyday in April. So I watch a lot of BBC, Aljazeera, and play scrabulous, almost to the point of neglecting my two babes, everything (meaning food) is super espensive. Learning about the realities of no money fun.

Euro Disney here we come.