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So we’re back. Well, rather we’ve been back from Bremen since Sunday where both Sparky and I had an excellent time meeting old friends and making new ones. I’ll say it again, these meet ups are awesome and people always seem to find a good rhythm with each other. I don’t know if its just me, but everyone is always so natural and it seems like the boundaries and barriers of everyday life fly out the window. I love it.
J was awesome as usual and Claire. Phew. I want to be her when I grow up. She rocked the meet-up. She has set meet-up standards to whole new level. Thank you both for putting together an amazing weekend.
Adam, I would like you to know that your choice of the word moist has settled firmly into my brain and as much as I hate it, I think it all the freakin’ time, in your context. Thanks. And you know what’s nice? Somehow golden showers came up and Adam didn’t even blink an eye. I felt right at home.
Ian came into the cafe that morning and even though we had never met, again, I felt like we were old friends.
Snooks, I wanted to take you home. You’re like a kitten but without all the fur. oh and your human.
Speaking of kittens, one of my favorite parts of the Bremen tour was this thing in the ground for the local animal shelter. You drop in a coin and it makes animal sounds. It sounds like there is a kitten, dog, chicken and I can’t remember what else in the sewer. It made me want to jump in and save them all. Instead Sparky dropped a lot of coinage.
Headbang8 is so interesting. He’s one of these men that you want to sit and talk to all day because you are sure to pick up bits of wisdom as they fall out of his mouth. And he has a kindness that comes with a certain type of humility. I’m kind of a fan.
I loved sitting with Andrea and June for dinner. Andrea has such a warm smile and positiveness about her, you can’t help to feel it warm your core. June was a good sport as I spoke about a trip to Dallas which included a hotel room racial fight and a make-up stop at Nieman’s.
And the Stroller brigade? We had G, Alice and Yelli. They all made me feel like I could actually have a kid and my life would not end. I got tons of great advice and lots of encouragement. It was awesome watching the dads take over kid herding and let the moms talk. And the best part was, well, the funny part, was that while the kids were all wired, the dads looked like they needed a nap. I’m told this is a normal state of being as a parent.
Yelli, Sparky could not stop talking about you guys. Looks like were making a trip north east soon.
I couldn’t walk the entire city tour as I had already gone well beyond my doctor instructed 30 minute limit, so Sparky and I headed towards the area where we ate lunch. At some point I heard my name being called. In California, if someone calls out “Jen” I’d never even bother looking around because every other girl is named Jen or some variation. In Krautland, not so much.
Turns out it was J accompanied by Diane, Max and Charlie the cutest dog in the world. We got to sit in the sun for about an hour and chit chat up close and personal. As Diane and Max live semi-nearby, I believe they should come over for dinner soon. Well, as soon as I can cook again without wanting to slit my throat.
I wish I could have spoken more to everyone, but somehow missed out on PapaScott Heidelbergerin and Regensblog.
I spent the afternoon on my ass in Starbucks with Claire and Mausi and Alex and Kim. Get four women together for four hours and time flies. Simply awesome. I could use more days like that.
This weekend coming up, Kim and Chris, her American, are coming to stay for a couple of days. I’m very much looking forward to this.
Did you get lost in all those links above? That’s what these meet ups are like. So many people you want to talk to and a friendly chaos all weekend.
We did miss the Sunday breakfast, though. This was caused by a combination of the inability to actually get to the Alt Stadt because of a stupid marathon and my complete lack of rationality. I was hoping to get in some face time with Alice as she has been invaluable to me the past few weeks via e-mail and I really wanted to hang with her for a bit.
This is where you all start to feel sorry for Sparky.
We were driving, on our way to a delightful breakfast, when we hit a road block. The policeman told us to park and walk, that it’s not that far, just over a bridge we could not see and down a bit. Sparky says okay and drives into a neighborhood.
This is where I leave the land of rationality and reality behind and fall into the twilight zone. I got so mad at Sparky for listening to the cop because you know, he was following a random guy’s direction and oh, he was doing what he’s told and isn’t that just fabulous. Good thing he doesn’t have to think for himself because there is nothing I hate more than a follow a leader mentality (unless of course I’m the leader then you had better goose step to my beat).
Yeah.
It turned into a fit of unmeasurable proportions. I got so worked up, solo here as Sparky was sort of shell shocked, that even though I knew I was being totally ridiculous, I could not find a way back to the rational world for oh, about 7 hours.
I think if he could have, he would have driven through the roadblock to get me to that breakfast because 1. that was the only thing that would have made me happy (really) and 2. He just wanted to be rid of me but it’s hard to justify throwing your pregnant wife out of the car no matter how much she might deserve it.
So all in all, a great weekend. I can’t wait for next year. I am voting for Berlin, but because Berlin is such a big city, we can focus on one smallish part, don’t you think?
I’m currently in Hamburg at Sparky’s agency. It’s all men except for one woman and it smells like aftershave and testosterone with a hint of cigarettes. It kind of reminds me of a college party, if you know what I mean. Maybe I should say certain aspects of a college party. It’s kind of nice.
I digress. Sparky and I are on our way to Bremen and the 4th Annual WEBMU. It was up in the air until yesterday when my doctor gave me the go ahead.
Claire has gone above and beyond to organize and coordiante this whole thing. I want to be like Claire when I grow up. And it seems like there are more people going than ever. It’s nice to see something that started so small grow into something new expats are interested in.
So it’s not too late. Get up here and enjoy the company. Seriously, we rock. Perhaps there is someone who had a bad time and I’m sure I’ve accidentally insulted many people with the conversational filter disorder I have, but I have yet to talk to anyone who had a bad time at one of these functions. Or at least no one has told me to my face that they had a bad time.
And one more thing. Most expats are shy and semi-anti-social. So don’t think you can’t go. We are an odd type of person, you are not alone.
See there I go insulting people again.
I’m going to go now before I do more damage.
So I had that project I needed to finish and I did, (thanks, Coffee, my lover, my friend). I e-mailed Tobi to make sure everything was completed and it turns out, I had one more page.
Let me preface this by saying Tobi is a good friend and ex-co-worker and we have a pretty close personal relationship. I don’t think we ever used Sie with each other and after sending him emails explaining American terms like Tea Bagging or why I snickered when he once told me that he and his buddies liked water sports (perhaps I’ve spent too much time with Shaun, aka GBF), most barriers were down. In regards to the water sports, I have to clarify that he, of course, meant wind surfing and the like, but I was having much too much fun imagining it a different way.
I finished my project and e-mailed it back with the following note.
From: Jen
To: Tobi
Here it is. Who loves you, baby?
love,
Jen
His response?
From: Tobi
To: Jen
There´s only one person who loves me except my family. You know her personally…
Many, many thanks, Tobi
No, Tobi, I love you.
So even though my doctor told me I could drink a cup of coffee in the morning, I had stopped. A just in case kind of thing. I had weened down previously so it was more of an emotional issue than a physical, but emotionally, I really missed him.
I have a project that needs to be done today, this morning, without fail and after I dropped Sparky off at the train station, I picked up a latte.
The morning sickness that has kept me nearly bed-ridden for the last few weeks is gone. I’ve been able to read for longer than than 20 minutes without a raging, nauseating migraine. I’m not tensing my stomach to hold its contents in place. I can sit up right.
And I’m so almost done with this project. My dear friend Tobi will be happy and might even continue to be my friend even though I’ve been a total flake on this.
All because of one little cup of coffee.
Really, I’m pretty much in love with coffee.
I’ve been all weepy (for no reason) and anxious (little reason,not big) recently. Sparky and I rented movies this weekend to help get me out of the funk and spare him more Gilmore Girls. We picked up some real lighthearted fare:
Before the Devil Knows Your Dead
Yeah, not such good picks. I mean, the movies themselves were great, but awfully heavy. I passed on The Diving Bell and the Butterfly because well, I thought it would be too sad. I, apparently didn’t know what sad was.
I had to calm down with a disc of Gilmore Girls except I’m re-watching again (thanks to insomnia) and am in season six where Lorelei and Luke are having all sorts of problems which in turn caused me to cry into the night.
Sparky is so glad he can sleep through anything.
Dude, regardless of what he wants, next time I’m grabbing anything with Queen Latifah.
I voted yesterday.
Got my absentee ballot on Wednesday, researched the local and state props that I didn’t have a background on and mailed it out yesterday, First Class Air Mail. Cost me four euros and the lady behind the counter, the ever thrifty German, told me if I had mailed it in a smaller, unofficial envelope, it would only cost me two Euros. Ah, the price of democracy.
Filling out the ballot, I got all pissed off again because there are two California State props attacking civil liberties again and I just cannot understand it.
Prop 8 is to ban gay marriage and Prop 4 is another sly anti-choice piece of crap. I’m pretty much used to the anti-choice shit, but you know what burns my ass? This is a quote – “If the gay marriage ruling is not overturned, TEACHERS COULD BE REQUIRED to teach young children there is no difference between gay marriage and traditional marriage.” (The italics and capitalization is theirs, not mine.)
WTF? Its not different. That’s the fucking point.
I got married in San Francisco City Hall. A gorgeous building, for sure, but not a church. Morality had nothing to do with our marriage. Sparky’s mother would attest to that. She’s kinda happy we weren’t married in a church because when he finally realizes what a schlumpe I am, he can divorce my American ass and find a good German Frau.
Our marriage is a legal document. It bears no reflection on how moral or righteous our love/union is, god forbid. It gives me the right to make medical decisions if he cannot. It gives us tax breaks. It allows us to keep marital assets if one us croaks and it allows me to live in Germany. But no where in there did the State of California ask us anything about love or morality or where we put what. Well, perhaps in the vows, but I saw that as mostly window dressing as we had already filled out paperwork and it was signed. Our vows and responses to said vows are not on record. I can’t even remember the vows. They were just the plain traditional ones, I suppose. Love, honor, sickness, health, yada, yada, yada. In fact, the most remarkable thing about our marriage ceremony was that it was officiated by a nice Chinese man named Dick Ow. I liked that.
So really, WTF, people. Prop 8 is about taking away civil liberties, basic human rights. The supreme court already mandated that gay marriage is legal. Just leave it alone already. And this is what kills me.
Who does it affect? A nosy busybody who just can’t stand that the neighbor next door is doing something against his/her god? Well, honey, I know a hell of a lot of straight couple that do many, many things against your god, but you don’t give a rats ass about them. You don’t even think about your hetero neighbors because its between a man and a woman and perhaps the rottweiler they brought home.
Mind your own business.
So, anyway, I voted. I wish I could get one of those cute little stickers, but at least I have the stub from the ballot.
Is anyone else surprised at how quickly those ballots got out after Palin was announced? It made me sad to see her name on there. Oh and Nader man, he just never gives up.
Again, thank you all for your good wishes. I was blown away. The embryo is still doing fine. I, however, am not.
I want to talk about something in the next five minutes because that’s all the time I have before the hot flashes and nausea start making me crazy and the hot keys of my laptop make me want to throw it out the window because I can’t stand the stickiness between my fingers.
I’m cranky and tired and nauseous and I have to pee every ten minutes. (By the way, the perfect example that we were not created by intelligent design – What genius would have placed the bladder below the uterus? Makes no sense.) These are the things that they never tell you about. Oh sure they tell you about them as if they are individual symptoms, but they never say they’ll hit you suddenly, all at once and the next thing you know you’re crying over jagerschnitzel for no reason at all. I’m so cranky I’m even pissed off at the cats and I’m never pissed off at the cats.
It might have something to with the fact that when I’m trying to find a comfortable position in my bed of nails, they decide to jump on my head.
The crankiness could have something to do with the scent of every food item Sparky eats driving me to puke.
Or it could be the idea that this whole process ends in some sort of extreme pain. I’ve always said that I am an elective C-section girl. There are certain areas of my anatomy that are for “Entertainment Purposes Only”. I’m so not one of those people who needs to do things naturally or wants to experience the joy of natural child birth. So not my cup of tea. Better life through drugs and medical intervention. I mean really, why not allow centuries of science to make things easier? There is no need to suffer (unless you are a musician).
That being said, research being done, C-sections hurt just as much, but in a different place. The traditional method can cause all sorts of trauma to parts I had no idea were to be traumatized and the c-section is major surgery to the stomach muscles. Ouch. My ass or my stomach? That’s what I have to choose from?
There has got to be a better way. Right?
No, I’m not an idiot. It’s just that things look a whole lot different on this side of the pee test.
I’m going to go sip on some tepid ginger ale.
So, that secret that was so difficult to keep. So difficult in fact that everyone guessed?
I’m knocked up. Surprise!
I had to wait until we saw an actual heartbeat before I felt like I wasn’t jinxing it. Not that I don’t feel like I’m jinxing it everyday, but you know what I mean.
After months of planning romantic trips (Paris, Trier, a funeral) to make the doctor’s order to “Have intercourse as many times as possible over the next 36 hours” seem less like a mandate, it turns out all we needed was a wedding, copious amounts of red wine (I really like how “copious” works with “red wine”) and the Sisters of Mercy.
Let’s just say that this little guy was determined once it looked like we were having some fun even though he wasn’t due for a few more days.* Then he hid out, fooling the blood test until after my Fairy Godmother (my doctor) left on vacation. I took home pregnancy tests the following week, in secret, because I thought I was being stupid and all the signs pointing to pregnancy were really hormonal side effects. The tests, all of four of them, were positive and another pint of blood was taken and lo and behold, I’m knocked up.
He stuck the landing and he’s hanging out doing what embryos do.
I have freaked myself out approximately 27 million times since the positive tests and I am no longer allowed to research anything pregnancy related on the Internet. My doctor has forbidden it. So has Sparky. And my sister.
My sister is now the keeper of knowledge. If I want to know something, she looks it up and gives me the gist. I also cannot go to the gym for a few more weeks. I finally got an un-forged note to get out of PE.
I’m high risk so there is still a chance of losing him, but I grow more secure as the days go on.
Every time I go back to the doctor, I hold my breath, thinking that he’ll be gone this time, but he’s not. He’s bigger. Right now he’s the size of a lentil bean, but last week he was the size of a sesame seed.
So that’s it. I have a lot more to say about it, but it’s hard to make it funny and frankly, I don’t want to bore everyone with the minutiae that is involved with fertility treatments. I was starting to feel like Pete Doherty I was shooting up so much. Except instead of the getting high part, I had mood swings and hot flashes.
My family is thrilled and can’t wait until we have a new little one to love and harass. My dad is already buying the candy he plans on feeding this kid.
My sister and brother really want twins which is highly unlikely since every part of this conception was monitored and Dr. G would have noticed. They want me to name a boy Optimus. Optimus is not an option, guys. I will not name my child after a Transformer.
Wish me luck and cross your fingers. We have a few more weeks before I can really start to believe it, before I’m no longer worried about jinxing and before I stop feeling myself up to make sure things that should be sore still are sore.
So, there we go. On to a new chapter.
* This was what Sparky said when Dr. G told us on a very hungover Sunday morning (we got home at 7am and had a 12 noon appt. That’s how good of a night it was) that we, uh, had better get busy because my part of the reproduction equation was ready to go, days ahead of schedule and without an injection.
Because I want to lose more rights as a woman and I really like that hockey mom attitude of take no prisoners (use all your political might to sack a BIL and yet FAIL and get caught). I want to show women around the globe that you can have a career, make foolish choices and put your unborn child at grave risk and still be a winner.
You know, I started out a Hilary supporter for a number of reasons. After months of debate sparking much research (debating with Sparky requires mucho research or he’d pin my ass to the wall), I moved on to Obama. I was touched that Palin mentioned me in her speech, I was one of those 18 million cracks in the glass ceiling.
Because of that and because she’s female, I’m going to vote for her. We need a woman in the White House, right?
Forget the part that she’s anti-choice. Oh and she loves the idea of drilling in the wildlife preserve, only 2000 acres, and she has a proven record of abuse of power and very poor decision making skills. But she’s cute. Does it say anything that I’ve seen more pictures of her legs than her face on right wing press?
Dude, if former Hilary supporters vote for Palin, they deserve the government they get. Unfortunately. the rest of us (the world) will have to pay the price.
Oh, and just to show how mature I am, every time I see Cindy McCain, I want to punch her in the face. She throws her ‘tude around like she’s the Star of My Super Sweet Sixteen. She needs some help looking a bit more sympathetic. She’s a very good warning to children around the world. Don’t make that face or it might stay that way.
