Woody & His Very Human Mama (A Story)

Woody and I are going for a long walk to the vineyards. It’s a hefty 10 minute climb before we get to the stair case–the place I feel it’s safe to let Woody off his leash. After that, it’s 99 stairs up and another several minutes of steady climbing before arriving in the midst of the now dormant grape vines.

My winter layers start to produce a sauna effect so I unzip my vest to let it hang from my elbows, the brisk winter wind cooling me.

We haven’t taken this route for a few months. Each time I pause to look over my shoulder at Woody, he pulls his nose out of whatever critter hole it’s in at the moment, turns toward home and takes a few steps in that direction. It has been too long and he’s forgotten that this is a safe place to be. But as I long as I keep going, so will Woody.

Coaxing him helps motivate me for the reward: a break from climbing, the view of the valley below and the descent home. It’s my favorite walk of the many we take around our little German village and I decided I would not let so many months go by before taking it again. I don’t have many months left here anyway.

When Woody and I arrive back at the door of the apartment building 15 minutes later, I find two empty vest pockets where my apartment key had previously been in one. After a quick gasp came a hefty growling sigh; first, not knowing where the key could be and then recalling my vest hanging, pockets open to the vineyard floor.

I would have to make the climb back up to get my key. And the Woodster would have to come with me.

Woody plants his feet and I tell him I’m sorry but he has to come. By the third time he plants and I pull, we are only 100 feet from home and another exasperated sigh escapes me.

I think through my options again…

Are the cleaning ladies still at the apartment building? Yep, there’s their van. Now–how to get their attention from outside and let me in? No telling which apartment they are in for sure.

Is my neighbor Nancy home? Nope.

If I could just get into the Mini Haus, I wouldn’t have to tug at the stubborn 35 pounds at the end of the leash and practically drag him a second time where he wasn’t happy to go the first time today.

I call Alan to see if he is by chance running errands for work and could swing by with his key to let me in. No, he isn’t, but he will gladly wrap up what he is doing within a few minutes and come let me in. (My hero!)

I hang up the phone and head back to the apartment door to wait.

As I near the door, it opens and out come the cleaning ladies. I ask if they can let me into my apartment (recalling with pride that this is only the second time I have locked myself out since moving in 7 months ago–go me!) and they smile and say, “Kein problem!”

This time it’s a sigh of relief that comes from me. And a “Danke schoen!” to the lady who sets her basket down to help me.

Relief was not only expressed in laughter but also felt as we approach the Mini House door and see that my key is, in fact, right where I left it. In the door.

I had to think–Why is it there?

Oh yeah.

Rewind…

“Woody, let’s go for a walk!”

He runs under the bed.

“Come on Woody. Let’s go!” Leash and harness in hand, I walk to the door and open it.

He stays under the bed. I stand and wait a few seconds.

“OK, I’m leaving without you.” I shut the door behind me, take a few steps. Pause. Go back and unlock the door, open it…success! Woody’s rushing to come, now believing my word.

Pleased with my black-male I proceed to put his harness and leash on him. And off to the vineyards we go!

—–

The moral of this story is never let your perpetual toddler think he’s going for a walk when really you’re just trying to do anything to get him into his crate so he can be left behind.

By the way, my “deception” was many months ago. He loves me still. He just doesn’t trust me sometimes.

We deserve each other.

FGF: German Joghurt

I’ve mentioned the wonderment of German dairy before, but the yogurt here deserves its proper dues as one of my Favorite German Finds.

I didn’t have the patience today to sift through the plethora of online results to determine the exact difference between the dairy in the States and German yogurt.

So here is my description:

German Joghurt/Yoghurt (seen spelled both ways on packaging) is…

less bitter sour and more in the way of tart sour

less gelatin-like, more home-made-whipped-cream-like

less sweet

has a higher fat content (I’m guessing)

sometimes creamier

oftentimes runnier

never equal to the same consistency

…than American yogurt

And now you can practically taste what I mean, right?

This is one of our favorite brands. Never mind the Greek labeling; it’s made in Germany. It’s just a creamier version of their creamy version (sinfully yummy!)

I wish I could teleport samples to you like in Charlie’s Chocolate Factory.

An Ode to Parents, Forests and Symphonies

Last week, if I wasn’t “feeling puny” (my Grandma’s phrase for feeling a little under the weather) I was consumed with putting together an itinerary for when my parents come to visit next month. Those two things trumped most anything else for three days solid.

I can’t even tell you how excited I am to have my parents come! That’s why I’m going to forego making up for the Favorite German Find post I missed last week and today’s usual Photos of the Weekend.

I’ve been anticipating my parents visit since before I arrived in Germany. Since arriving, I have kept my ears pricked, jotted things down that I did, read or heard and put them on my “must see with M&D” list.

After all these months of hoping and planning, it came time to thin out the dense forest of options.

There are times that seems impossible. There are SO many castles to visit. So many palaces to tour. So many monuments to admire. So many villages to explore. So many shops to peruse. So many foods to taste. So many roads to travel. So many sights to be in awe of or make you say “huh?”.

How do we choose?!

When I used to dream of visiting Europe I had a wish list of places to go. Ireland was #1, England #2 and Italy was #3. When ‘wish’ turned into ‘reality’ seven years ago, The Netherlands became #1 and I decided my list didn’t really matter. Holland practically chose me and I wouldn’t trade that now. I would love to visit any of those other destinations, but being in any spot of the world outside of what I’m used to is a gift.

The choices of life in general are just as dense as the forest of traveling. Sometimes the forest should be thinned out so we can see a clearer view of what we want.

Eliminate stuff that doesn’t matter. Focus on the things that are most important. The path may lead you to the thing you listed as #1 or it may put something at #1 that was never on the list to begin with.

I’m preaching to the choir of me here because I want to remember the lessons learned. Coming to Germany was an unwritten book. I had no plans to work. I had no idea what my day would look like. No idea how much or little of Europe we would get to see. No idea how we would afford to pay our bills living “on the economy”. Sounds irresponsible, I know.

Looking back at the moment we made the decision to come, there was no way to tell what Heavenly Father had in store for us or how it would change my view life. It’s not just the country or the people or the fact that I’ve deprived myself of everything I knew and loved (except for Alan, Woody and my suitcase, of course). It’s been the thinning out of the forest–spiritual, emotional and tangible–and finding the path that feels right for the future.

While living in Europe, we haven’t been able to visit Ireland, Scottland, Rome, Amsterdam, Naples, England, Jerusalem, Greece, Prague, or Brussels (just to name a few of those checked off the local American circles’ lists). But what I have experienced has been much more than just being here in this beautiful corner of a European country. It’s deeper and more sacred. And it has everything to do with the choice to live here.

It reminds me of a thought I had while at the Temple the other day, as I pondered the creation. Our Lord, Jesus Christ, designed all things on this beautiful earth just for us. And then he suffered and died, not just so we could admire the wonders of His creation, but experience them, to experience joy while we are here. And like a symphony (here’s the geeky movie soundtrack lover in me), the places, people or cultures we have experiences with are the instruments in an orchestra playing the soundtrack to our lives. Each life experience (or instrument) contributes to make our symphony more complete, more meaningful. Each symphony is different. Like the number of symphonies that can be composed, the number of joyful life experiences is endless. Endless. And even that idea is just a glimpse into eternity.

As I think about sharing the wonders of the European experience next month with the two people who instilled the seed of this belief in me, to see the looks on their faces and hear what they like most afterward, I feel like the happiest little 7 year old of me’s.

At the end of my experience in Germany and in life, I just want to compose a beautiful symphony. It seems doable after thinning out the forest. I just hope I can remember how to do the thinning in the thick of things.

Photos of the Weekend: Bad Wimpfen

Sun, glorious sun!

We were able to get out and bask in it on Saturday, crisp biting cold though it was.

We didn’t find any old headstones a few weeks ago, but Al did discover that his ancestor Johann helped settle that little village of Ittlingen in the late 1600′s. Taking advantage of the blue skies, we went there again to get some more photos.

We went a little farther down the road to the village of Bad Wimpfen. It has a fascinating history dating back to 420 BC and the Celts. And it’s credited as the home to the first German Christmas market.

It’s never NOT a good time to behold a tower to climb.

Blauer Turm (“Blue Tower”)

It’s icing on the cake when the sun cooperates with the purpose of the tower and one can see for miles and miles.

In the end (like now, as I’m blogging about it) our adventure was all the more dimensional for Alan to be up there…

taking photos, while I (and Woody) was (were) down there…

filming video on the new iPad.

Bad Wimpfen is most definitely one of my favorite villages to saunter through. For anyone visiting this area, it’s a ‘must see’.

Even in the winter.

My Weekend Photo Fave

Without snow, with fewer things in bloom,

and without Christmas market.

Just ask the swan.

I’m sure he’ll agree that January in Bad Wimpfen is lovely.

Dealing with Infertility

I was talking with a friend last week who recently found out that she and her husband can’t have children of their own. Knowing my history she asked, “What have you done to deal with your infertility?”

These are things I wish I could tell the Lynsie of 1998, when I was in the acute stages of infertility. If I could go back in time, I would have to be disguised as someone else because the me of then would freak out about how long I have endured childlessness. And hopefully the 1998 me would listen, but who knows. We all learn the way we need to. Just as I already did.

Before the list, a precursor. People will tell you to offer service. This is awesome, amazing, works wonders, but you need to take care of yourself while you’re serving or sometimes even before you can even step foot out your door to serve.

1. Learn about the Principle of Compensation. Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin gave a wonderful talk on this subject entitled Come What May, and Love It. He stated, “That which is taken away from those who love the Lord will be added unto them in His own way.”

Though you would gladly trade these luxuries for being a mom, don’t feel guilty for what you can do at this moment! For instance, at this moment in 2012 you are able to take a bath for as long as you want; drive the Sister Missionaries in the Twingo at a moment’s notice; have a block of uninterrupted hours to study; never have to worry about stretch marks on your belly, losing baby weight, or any other discomforts from pregnancy; you don’t have to get a baby sitter. The list could go on and on.

2.  Prayer and the Temple. When you feel like no one could possibly understand, that’s a lie. That’s when you know to go to your Heavenly Father in prayer. If that’s not enough, go to the temple or go more often. Literally get out of this world and into the Lord’s holy house. Stay there until you feel strong and loved.

3. Strengthen Your Marriage. Do whatever it takes. Go on a vacation, a cruise, somewhere, anywhere and DON”T avoid the subject. Work through it together. If you feel like your efforts are not working, get therapy. Don’t wait for your husband to be ready for therapy. Do it for yourself.

4. Uncover Your Hidden Talents. I heard a quote recently that I love. “The greatest gift we can give Heavenly Father is to nourish and strengthen our talents and then share them with him and the world.” Put your energy into something you’ve been putting off because you might get pregnant. Like going to school and finishing your degree. Don’t doubt. Just do it.

5. Avoid Negativity Like the Plague. It’s okay to feel angry at times, but do your best not to dwell there. If negativity is in the room, walk out. Even if someone is sharing their negative or discouraging words about the simplest of things. Especially right now, you don’t have space in your life for that. Even bloggers and those who might commiserate along side you can pull you down. Be careful where you go to find understanding and peace. Remember #2 if negativity creeps in.

6. Stand Up For the Infertile. A lot more people are discussing infertility openly now than they did in 1998. There are those who don’t have a clue and will say the inappropriate thing. Allow them to learn from you that it’s awful, it hurts, it’s torture to be around women who are genuinely ungrateful for their children, but also that God compensates. Gently and boldly help them see that one size doesn’t fit all, that you and many others like you are valuable and can be happy people.

7.  When Someone Says, “There’s Always Adoption” they don’t know what they’re talking about. It’s common for this to be someone’s first response to your news that you can’t have babies. It’s okay to tell them, “Thanks for the encouragement.” It’s also okay to say, “Hmm, I hadn’t thought about that.” Stun them, if you think they need it. This could go along with #6. Adoption has its own facets. The process is grueling. Be careful not to jump into this before you and your husband are both ready.

8. Get a Massage. At least once a month, if you can, until you’re stronger. This is especially recommended if you’ve gone through fertility treatments. There is amazing healing from massage, both physically and emotionally. I wish I had not been blinded by the negative perception of massage during my infertility yuck. If you’re afraid, start with a foot massage or a type of massage where you’ll be fully dressed, like Shiatsu or Seated Massage. Tell your therapist that you’re dealing with infertility. Nothing more needs to be said if you don’t want, but that will help them know you need comfort and peace overall.

9. Ask to Babysit a Friend’s Infant. It sounds crazy when this is what you want and can’t have, but babies are the purest of us all on this earth. Holding them can trigger your pain, but it’s important to deal with that pain. Recognize it. Recognize that it’s okay to cry and be angry that you can’t have babies. Don’t suppress it. Recognize the simple healing power of holding a newborn baby. When you give the baby back to its mother, let the pain and anger go and focus on your blessings.

10. Get a Dog. Name him Woody. He’ll be an outlet for the mothering instincts you were born with and the ones you’ve fostered in taking care of your friends’ kids, your nephews and nieces, the broods you babysat throughout high school, the niece who lived with you for a year and a half. Those instincts and feelings will come naturally and will be fulfilling. He’ll forever be in the toddler stage, he’ll shed, he’ll eat grosser than gross things before you can stop him, but he’s worth it. He will bring you so very much joy that you can’t imagine life without him.

I know you don’t believe me. Get a dog. Seriously. Get a dog.

Baby Woody

And, above all other things, don’t forget this part of Elder Wirthlin’s message:

“While it may not come at the time we desire, the faithful will know that every tear today will eventually be returned a hundredfold with tears of rejoicing and gratitude.”

FGF 1/11/12: The Duvets

I haven’t bothered to ask what the word for Duvet is in German. Google Translate is often wrong on these things so we’ll just stick with the French word. German’s use the French as an excuse for some of the words they use or the way they say them anyway.

My Favorite German Find this week is really two-fold. First there’s the duvet and then there’s the cleaning ladies who come and change the bedding on the duvets every week.

The duvet was not a concept introduced to me by living in Germany, but the individual duvets were. Living single for many years, My Al never quite got used to my knack for hogging the covers. There is a slight disadvantage to having our own covers, but we’ve adapted. (Did I just say that? Yes, I did.)

The duvets are not down but some other fill that makes them perfect for all year long. If there are times I get too hot, I just stick my feet out from underneath and the dilemma is remedied.

As you may know, 3Xweekly maid service is part of living in the apartment that we do. They stock us up on toilet paper, furnish us with clean dish and bath towels, vacuum, mop, clean the bathroom, occasionally dust, and every Wednesday they change the bedding. That’s when our bed goes from Rumplestilskin…

to Betty Albright…

With Germans, things are just. so.

It’s a simple happiness of our Wednesdays to curl up under the crisp-as-if-ironed linens and fall asleep to the gentle whiff of vinegar.

I won’t guarantee that last pickled part, but duvets are definitely in our Americanized future.

P.S. The names Albright and Rumplstilskin are of German origin and I didn’t even realize it at the moment I goofily made them a part of this post. I’m starting to wonder if Germany should be credited for everything.

Photo(s) of the Weekend: Winter and Death

One of the great blessings of having the new iPad is that My Al and I don’t have to share his laptop. I’m two days behind on this post because I’ve attempted to blog from the new iPad only to have it disappear before I finished. Last night I was cursing the learning curve of new technology.

This week has definitely brought on the January Blahs. I think it might be a result of the consecutive days of drizzle and fog; we haven’t seen the sun since I don’t remember when. It could also be that we haven’t adventured out of town for the past two weekends.

That means this post gets photos from a previous outing.

Alan is really into Genealogy and has a cousin who has discovered a family line that they weren’t sure was connected because of the name spelling being changed. If it isn’t their family, they are sort of at standstill. When this family line was discovered, it was like discovering a long lost treasure.

During Christmas break, we decided to dig out the family group sheets and see if there was a chance a relative might be within the Twingo’s one-hour radius. After about an hour of studying, we found a relative in Ittlingen, less than 30 minutes away. With the family line plotted out in pen to understand just how Johann was directly connected to My Al, we hopped in the car to find a cemetery.

We found Ittlingen. We found the cemetery. We didn’t find a headstone older than 25 years. Then I vaguely remembered hearing something about digging up old graves for more recently deceased because of space. We came home, looked it up online and were saddened for all genealogists on a treasure hunt. The Germans rent the plots for 20-25 years, allowing the bones to fully decompose (although there’s a gross new twist on this that I would have rather not read), and then re-rent the space to someone else. Those whose rent has expired are left in the record books of the town.

It was a fun little hunt, nonetheless, and was part of our little cemetery/memorial hopping that included this photo (near Ittlingen)…

 

and this (at a Heidelberg cemetery)…

 

and this (also HD cemetary)…

 

and this (each plot has a flower bed at the foot of the headstone)…

and my favorite photo of all from the week’s adventure, taken at the beautiful Heidelberg WWI Memorial…

Winter and death. They are solemn but beautiful promises of a greater tomorrow.

FGF 1/6/12: “The Awful German Language”

Today is another holiday here in Germany. Stores are closed, streets are quiet, and the cable-pulley buckets carrying cement behind our apartment building are still.

It’s known as Three Kings Day or Dreikönigstag.

January 6th is the day Germans designate as the last day of Christmas. Another way of putting it is ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’ ended with traditions of family feasts and sprinkling of holy water over doorways. It’s the day some say the three wise men arrived in Bethlehem which is why children dress up as kings and carol and collect money for the poor. And it’s usually the day the German’s take down their Christmas trees (they traditionally don’t put them up until Christmas Day).

You can read more about Three King’s Day here, but it’s the word “Dreikönigstag” that reminded me why I have had the German language on my list of Favorite German Finds.

You may be wondering why I call the language “awful” and still list it as my “favorite” find so I’ll explain… and then explain some more.

1. I didn’t call it “awful” first; Mark Twain did. He spent a lot of time in this area and said much on the subject of speaking German that I find hilarious.

2. The German language is listed on my favorites because it is the best example to me of this country’s contradictions. These contradictions are part of the adventure after the culture shock wears off.

One contradiction case in point is the view we have in our neighborhood. A first-time view upon entering Leimen from the West would be: Field, beautiful field, field ready to harvest, quaint village, vineyards, starting up a mountain, evergreens, sky scrapers, more trees, mountain… Wait. Skyscrapers? It just doesn’t make sense at first.

And now to das sprechen von Deutsch or–the speaking of German.

In my feeble attempt to learn a wee bit of the language, I find that when a rule is explained to me it makes perfect, logical sense. And then the Sister Missionaries (they get to teach us) say, “Except in the case of…”

There are so many of those exceptions I want to throw my hands up in surrender. Which is why I haven’t learned to speak it. It’s too hard, I say. The truth is, I haven’t felt the necessity to master it with church in English, my daily association with Americans, and there’s that part about us only living here for a year. I’m sorry that my attitude holds me back, but so it is.

I actually understand a little. I can even pronounce most things correctly. I just don’t often know what I’m saying. Carrying on a conversation consisting of more than two short lines? Forget it.

Here is one thing I do like about the language, however. To save space and maybe time, they put several words together to make one. Take, for example, the word “Dreikönigstag”. Drei means “three”, königs means “king’s” and tag is “day”. And then there’s the word ”Herzkreislaufwiederbelebung”; literal translation is “heart-circle-run-again-enlivenment” (I nabbed it from here.)

The English version of this word is C.P.R.

Now, let’s talk about the word for Christmas. I have a confession to make… If anyone that knows a bit of German received my Christmas card in the mail or saw my slide show/video, they would know that I made a big oops. I didn’t write the correct German word for “Christmas”; I wrote the word for “Wine Eight-en”. To my knowledge, there is no such thing. I left out the “h” in Weihnachten.

Just for kicks and giggles, I’m going to break the correct word down and illustrate the awfulness and humor of the language.

Weih (viy)/nacht (nockt)/en (‘n)

Weih = “dedicate” or “consecrate”

nacht = “night”

-en = turns it into an action word

Put ‘em together and what have you got? A consecrated night.

You’ve also got a  mouthful that an American will stumble over for centuries and at least one will misspell.

What confuses my English bred brain has nothing to do with my making a mistake. My mistake is based on the way the word is spoken. They sound identical (if you ask me). The confusing part is the fact that “Christus”–the German word for “Christ”–is nowhere in their version of “Merry Christmas”. When you ask anyone what “Frohe Weihnacten” means, they say “Merry Christmas”. I say, nuh-uh.

In my eyes, the German’s have mastered the beauty of celebrating Christmas. So many of the carols and traditions I grew up with as an American and a Christian make so much more sense now that I have lived here and learned a little of the language. I just can’t figure out why they left out the most important word.

Oh well. I’ll just laugh and sympathize with Mark Twain’s perspective, “Never knew before what eternity was made for. It is to give some of us a chance to learn German.”

But I have a suggestion for the Germans. They should change their phrase to, “Frohe Fest Christigeborenwurde!”

The translation (according to me and translate.google.com) = Merry Celebration of Jesus Christ was born!

Besides the rules making sense and then not, there is one more reason the German language is a contradiction to me. I want to love it, but I just don’t want to.

______

For Mark Twain’s essay entitled, “The Awful German Language” go here. 

2011 in Evolutionarily Blog Review

What a year 2011 has been!

With just a few months left here in Germany, I keep working through a mantra that goes a lot like this: “Don’t be obnoxious when you get back home…Don’t say ‘When I was living in Germany…‘ in response to everything… Don’t be obnoxious.”

It’s going to be hard not to be obnoxious. I might even be blogging about Germany for the rest of my life. I have only scratched the surface of our German experience, after all.

What Evolutionarily has seen this year has set a new blueprint for my future blogging life post-Deutschland.

Here are some highlights of Evolutionarily 2011:

Busiest Day:

August 23rd when I posted Philisopher’s Path to a Holy Mountain (even if I did misspell Philosopher).

Top Referring Sites:

Facebook & Other Bloggers

Top 5 Terms People Searched & Found My Blog:

“Coldplay” and they may have found this post;

“soldier of god” and probably found this post;

“mezzo mix brand” gave them this post;

“hysterectomy army women” where they may have found this.

and “kinderüberraschung” gave them this.

Top Commenters:

Mom, JB, Elesa, Emilie and Becky. Gee you guys are swell! My mom, has always been my biggest fan.

Top Posts:

Philosopher’s Way to a Holy Mountain

Relationships: Benjamin Ashley II (see why my older brother is so popular by going here)

FGF #5: Kinder Überrashung

Schwarzwald, Licthenstein & the Bärenhöhle

________________

Looks like I can do a lot more writing about my favorite band to get more readers!

My sincerest thanks to all my friends, family and strangers as far away as Africa and Egypt. Thank you for visiting and an even bigger THANKS to those of you who read. I love you for it!

Photo(s) of the Weekend: Chillin’ in the New Year

My Al has had the whole week off for the holidays. Except for that one day, but I had laundry to do and piano lessons to teach so that doesn’t count.

We took it easy with a few visits to a hill here, a village there, a new-to-us restaurant in Alte Stadt (old city) Heidelberg, a cemetery over yonder, a war zone–er, I mean New Year’s Eve in our home village of Leimen.

Just a note to anyone planning to move to Germany in the future–When they tell you that the fireworks here are insane, they are understating things.

Streets of Leimen on New Year’s Eve: The haze is not fog. It’s firework smoke.

My favorite part of the week was just having My Al to hang out with.

Woody and I will go through withdrawals next week.

The Woodster started this family hug moment. He cuddled up next to Alan like that and didn’t move for at least 5 minutes. He has to be the most affectionate dog in the world. Which is one of the reasons I love him so.

For my Photo of the Weekend I choose this one, captured on our night out to eat…

As we only have a few months left here, my Al and I have been discussing our favorite things about living in Germany. We’re both hard pressed to place anything else above our love for downtown Heidelberg. And Heidelberg at night is just spectacular.

Happy New Year!