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Showing posts from January, 2015

When I Was More Dauntless-Divergent

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I was reading "Insurgent" today, after having seen "Divergent" last summer. Both are treasures. I love it when books and films leave me wondering about a new angle on my own life. Taking the aptitude test online, I wasn't surprised to see that I'd fall under the Divergents as well, instead of fitting into one of the normal factions. My answers were a mix of Amity ('I am Peaceful'), Erudite ('I am Intelligent') - and then either Dauntless ('I am Brave') or Abnegation ('I am Selfless') as a third. Taking a few more quizzes, for fun, led to the same result, or when 'Divergent' wasn't a permutation, I would get the other answers; Candor ('I am Honest') was the only faction that wouldn't welcome me, apparently. Amity and Erudite were the highest, but what really made me stop to think was that things have changed in the last few years.

Sweet Streamlining

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From this... to this. From this... to this. My kitchen will be so much tidier now. And the Het Goed 2nd hand store should be rather pleased (I hope) when they sort through the stuff we brought them. Stuff that we have appreciated, and enjoyed, and are now ready to pass on to someone else who will use it more than we do. Storage issues and moving possibilities aside, it bothers me when we hold on to things that we don't use. My ever-patient husband is great at reminding me to stop and consider whether we need something before I buy it on a whim ("I think you need a lightsaber") or toss it on a whim ("It's summer - let's get rid of the fat scarves.") I'm good at questioning whether we need to keep certain things that rarely get used in our lifestyle. Vases? Ice skates? File binders? Some things go in a give-away pile; some stay but get better organised. Meanwhile, Faramir and I sit together on the couch in the

Bowling Over Budgets

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Last week I wrote about when logic and frustration came together sweetly... and I replaced all of our mugs . I'm starting to give our bowls the Stink Eye this week. And I spent about an hour yesterday washing and inventorying all our baby bottles and parts. There's something immensely satisfying about actually taking action on a frustrating area of life. No matter how small. And I know in the grand scheme of things it. does. not. matter. that we have mismatched bowls and mugs. If we lived in a seaside cottage or sprawling farmhouse, I think it would be great fun to have whimsical mugs and cups and bowls that visitors would choose favourites from. When I visit my parents' house, I recognise the special mugs that my uncle sent to my brothers about ten years ago. The mugs sit next to The Cup that my mum has measured out ingredients in for her (famous) homemade biscuits for the last fifteen or so years. And there are new little mugs and bowls that they have picked up on trav

Toys for Me... I Mean, for You

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The problem with having a six month old baby is you can't really justify buying certain toys for them now.... Like Star Wars Lego sets. Or Christmas countdown trees of boxes to fill with mini-suprises. Or Nativity scenes with little figures. And yes, I did stand there and try to figure out how long before he could (safely) enjoy them. And whether the fact that they were on sale would help in the justifying process. I finally, regretfully, put the boxes down and managed to leave the store without anything more exciting than ziploc bags and frozen green beans. On the bright side, Pippin has gotten some fantastic toys for Christmas and his half-birthday.  Like a Noah's Ark with soft little figures to hug and squeeze. Like a toolset that he can chew on and we can pretend to saw off toes with. And a too-cute hedgehog named Chester who rolls up into a pouch and is not prickly at all. There will be enough time later for Lego and toy food, God willing. We even ha

People Who Don't Hate You

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Today was a pleasant day with visiting family, skyping with other family and a friend, and just general cosiness. I found myself thinking just now, "Always nice to hang out with people who don't hate you." And then I had to think about that for a few minutes. I never hang out with people who hate me, and I'm not even sure if there's any one out there who actively dislikes me. Then again, I don't hang out much in general so I probably wouldn't notice. Maybe the thought was just another moment of amused hyperbole. Maybe it was an unconscious reminder that just because friends move away or we fall out of touch, it doesn't have to mean we don't care about each other. Not always, anyway. Faramir and I talked about moving today. That was rare because normally it's just me talking about moving. As in every few months. As a TCK , moving makes me feel safe. It's exciting. Challenging but in a familiar way. Staying in one place for too long makes

Asking Questions and UPGs

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** Note: This was a tricky post for me to write. Including this note, hesitating between typing 'Please don't be offended by this post' and 'This is what is on my mind so it would be dishonest for me to pretend it isn't.' So now you know. Challenging post ahead. ** Yesterday, while running errands, I stopped in front of a window display in an otherwise vacant store. On a platform was the largest and most intricate Nativity scene I had ever seen. There was a castle tower with the Wise Men and a camel emerging, a courtyard with a well and humble shepherds and sheep. An angel and stars hung above the stable roof, where Baby Jesus spread open friendly arms and the visitors (and sheep) climbed a few stairs to greet him.... And on the windowsill below the scene were a few Buddha statues and a lost angel or two. Welcome to Rotterdam, I thought, and snapped some photos.   As a kid, I read the book "You Can Change the World." It was about praying for d

Consultaties, Compliments, and Crackers

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A friend commented once on Facebook that she wasn't a big fan of the Consultatie Bureau (a sort of 'Youth Health' system). I've heard several people agree with her, but I'm more on the side of a mutual friend who commented back something to the point of, 'Funny, I like going there - where else do people want you to talk nonstop about your child? :D' I'll also be honest and admit that I enjoy the compliments we get there. Of course I'm a biased parent who thinks that my child is funny and smart and adorable. But it's not a hard duty to show up and have nurses, secretaries, and random other parents exclaim, 'What an alert child!' 'What beautiful eyes!' etc. After the secretary finished cooing at Pippin (and remember, she probably sees 5-10 babies a DAY) I undressed him down to his diaper for the checkup. I once saw a mother pull out a miniature bathrobe for her little one, and commented how clever that was. I informed Faramir the

Baby Nursing to Solids - The Next Adventure

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There is a heap of newly sterilised storage bottles and caps and plastic pieces in my kitchen. They'll dry, then be packed away. They'll go in a cupboard or box with other "outgrown" baby stuff. The drinking bottles are still in the kitchen, and they'll be joined by little pots and spoons as we go on the adventure of solids. There will be solids, and there will be formula, but there will be no more pumped milk or nursing. I've already given Pippin tastes of solid foods, and laughed and photographed his face while he gnaws on green beans and spits pumpkin out with a grimace. It will be an adventure, I tell myself. Together we will brave the world of pureed broccoli and regurgitated banana, and I will make sure he gets his vitamin drops. It's all just happening sooner than I would like. Maybe the next baby will be one of the cool kids who gets "real" milk up to a year or two. I made it to six months with Pippin,  and I know I should be

Mug Shot

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I realised the other day how much nicer it would be if we had 10 or so decent-sized harmonious mugs living in our cupboard instead of  3 huge mugs 2 bitty striped mugs from a set of 4 (I probably broke 2 over the years) 6 tea glasses (I probably broke 2 or 3) 2 medium sized coffee mugs (1 was broken and got replaced, 1 was ug-gly and was given away) A few small coffee mugs are currently either hiding in a give-away bag in the cellar or have already been dropped off by Het Goed. In particular a set of tiny blue ones we bought to set up our first home together (awww) that went from 4 to 2 over the years. In other words, a hodgepodge of mugness. I don't need a perfectly matched set of mugs (especially not expensive ones, given my talent for breaking things). But I like things in my house to be harmonious, and 7 different types and sizes of receptacles for hot drinks was just too much. Especially when there are mugs, and then tea glasses, and then coffee mugs. Since the

Music Analysis

After thoughtful analysis, I conclude that my musical tastes run overwhelmingly to soft rock in a low key with a dash of existential hope/angst and a sprinkle of soothing undertones. And apparently there are fewer female artists who specialise in this because only one made it into my top 15 list....  Switchfoot Mat Kearney Ludovico Einaudi Coldplay Zucchero Blof Shane & Shane John Mayer Mark Knopfler Owl City Andrew Peterson Jamie Cullum Dido Five for Fighting Newsboys

Obligation

Read a fascinating post today on  " Why Switchfoot Won’t Sing Christian Songs" My favourite part: " My songs are a part of my life. But judging from scripture I can only conclude that our God is much more interested in how I treat the poor and the broken and the hungry than the personal pronouns I use when I sing. I am a believer. Many of these songs talk about this beli ef. An obligation to say this or do that does not sound like the glorious freedom that  Christ  die d to afford me. I do have an obligation, however, a debt that cannot be settled by my lyrical decisions. My life will be judged by my obedience, not my ability to confine my lyrics to this box or that." - Jon Foreman, Switchfoot Full post  here

Groceries Again

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After yesterday's errands, I sat down to blog eloquently about moments of human kindness encountered outside of my temporary apartment. After today's errands, I fried the cracked egg and cleaned up the leaking milk that were casualties of my hurry when someone tried to cut in front of me at the grocery store because they were confused about when the cashier had said they could ring up an extra shopping bag. And by the time I cleaned up the mess, I found Pippin trying to sneak a nap on my bed before the authorised time. Yes, I do go to two grocery stores. Often weekly. With a 7-8 kilo child strapped to my front and several more kilos of groceries in my backpack and little 'oma karretje' at my side. Which all need lugged up our apartment stairs. I feel my muscles should be much more defined than they are, but at least the workout is enough to burn off the handfuls of fresh nuts now available in the bulk bins at Lidl and the bitter chocolate at Dirk. Another recen

Temporary

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Some days I get frustrated with living here. The traffic noise. Cigarette fumes in our apartment building stairwell that drift into my house. Litter on the sidewalks and street, kids who ride their bikes without respect for anyone in their paths. There are few people, if any, who take pride in their neighborhood. And why should they? The apartment blocks are, for the most part, faded or dingy. The streets are narrow (which is, to be fair, normal for Holland) and cars shuffle in and out of spaces, dodging bits of glass or rubbish that may be on the ground. The 'Te Koop' and 'Te Huur' signs that constantly pop up in windows show how often new people arrive to buy and rent. The piles of trash left on the curb at moving day show how often people leave again. Of course, there are positives to our neighborhood. Within a five minute walk are the shops, cafes, the post office, and great public transport. There are green parks and a fascinating stream of people from dozens