Just a little something to make you laugh this morning…
Monday, August 22, 2011
Cultural differences- one bite at a time
Every Thursday evening Glenn and I get together for dinner with the Tresnickys, another American couple. Luke works with G, and Austin plays around Leamington with me. (I do love it when I rhyme)
A little while ago, we decided to indulge in a little homemade American comfort food.
That’s right. We made wings. They were glorious, if you have to ask.
The end result was kinda disgusting. We ate, well, an embarrassing amount of wings.
And things got kinda messy. But it was a glorious, all american evening.
Fast forward to a Sunday afternoon when our good friends and neighbors, Kate and Ollie, invited us over for some traditional English food. To be more exact, we had been invited over for Sunday dinner.
And here’s what it looks like (don’t judge the iPhone camera). A traditional Sunday Roast usually includes either a roasted chicken or beef (garnished with your choice of hot mustard, mint sauce, horseradish, or jam), roasted potatoes, stuffing, brussel sprouts, other veg, and yorkshire pudding.
This is yorkshire pudding. It is mostly made out of eggs and flour, and served on top of the meal. You then fill the bad boy up with gravy and go to town on it. It’s light, it’s yummy, it’s an edible bowl of goodness.
Cheers! We’re about to devour a proper Sunday Roast, the queen will be ever so proud (I speak, of course, of my mother).
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Forgotten Language
Once I spoke the language of the flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly in my bed.
Once I heard and answered all the questions of the crickets,
And joined the crying of each falling dying flake of snow,
Once I spoke the language of the flowers…
How did it go?
How did it go?
—Poem by Shel Silverstein
A Little Rural Fun
One of the benefits of being surrounded by farmland is having the opportunity for the kiddos to get close to the animals.
And what little child doesn’t love feeding a horse some apples?
Well, maybe he doesn’t. But at least he likes to watch.
You see, Jake could care less about the horses. This chunker is all about the cows.
He really can’t get enough of them.
Hello, handsome.
HEY YOU!
Check out my bellybutton!
A Few Family Shots.
Here are a few highlights of some photos I took while we were hanging out in the yard one evening. Hope you enjoy!
Ahh- the head butt. It looks cute, hurts like…a lot.
The tale of the lost kitten
My brother and sister-in-law, Rob and Lindsey, live, quite simply, in the middle of nowhere in Belgium. There isn’t a house in sight and the closest neighbors are a few cows. This, apparently, doesn’t keep them from receiving some rather unusual visitors.
Here was the first one.
(photo courtesy of Lindsey)
This is Chien Chien. He speaks french and has his bangs highlighted (I’m not actually making that up).
Chien Chien appeared on Rob and Lindsey’s doorstep one cold morning in January. They took him in, cared for him, and tried in vain to located his owner. Meanwhile, the little guy was getting quite comfortable and attached. He would follow Lindsey around the house, enjoyed the warmth of a nice house and never liked being alone, much less outside for very long.
This lasted for about five days, until one morning the sun finally made an appearance and the weather started warming up. Linds let the dog out….and he never came back again. Just like that he was off on his next adventure, and Rob and Linds were left baffled and amused by what they now call their gypsy dog.
Fast forward to early August.
Halfway through my time in Belgium I woke up one morning to a very persistant cat’s meowing. Upon investigation we discovered that, low and behold, a tiny little kitten, no more than 4 weeks old, had mysteriously arrived at the house.
The little thing was scared to death and HUNGRY, so we fed her some tuna and water and left her alone.
The next morning Rob got up and left for work. While waiting for the front gate to open before driving away from the house he heard a little kitty cry. Assuming that the cat was hiding in the bushes he drove off without a second thought. SEVERAL MILES LATER, while at a stop sign, he heard the cat again. He got out of the car, pops the trunk, and- low and behold- finds kitty hiding near the engine. A local Belgium man comes over and is slightly mystified when Rob keeps pointing into the engine and repeating “Petit chat! Petit Chat!" (Can’t you just imagine? This poor man must have thought my brother was off his rocker. Either that or really messing up his french words!) Finally the man looks in, sees kitty, and exclaimed, “PETIT CHAT!!!"
They finally coaxed the little kitty from the car onto the ground, but as soon as my brother started the vehicle up to move it out of the way the kitten jumped BACK into the engine! After a bit of strategically placed pokes they got the kitten out again, but this time she hightailed it into the neighboring woods and out of sight. Rob, who was extremely late for work at this point, had no choice but to drive off and leave her.
Fast forward to that afternoon, when Linds and Allie drove down to the woods just to see if the kitty was still alive and close by. They made some noises near the edge of the woods and, sure enough, the little thing poked it’s head out! Meanwhile, the same random Belgium man (this guy’s really got to find a hobby) comes out of the house to investigate. "Petit Chat!" Lindsey told him. "Crazy Americans" is what I’m sure he was thinking. He came over, lured in the cat with some food, and then dropped a huge net over it once it got close enough! Needless to say, kitty was NOT pleased, but they were able to get her in a box and return her home again safely.
The following days involved us feeding her (him? we don’t know), and slowly trying to win some trust.
"Aunt Britt, I think that if I get close enough Kitty will let me hold her. I’m pretty it will work."
Allie was more than thrilled to have a little something to love on. Kitty? Not so much.
Ah, the sting of rejection.
She still likes to hide in car engines- and odd habit that she will hopefully grow out of.
The good news? Kitty is a mouser, so she is welcome to stay as long as she pleases.
Which might actually be a while, because a couple days ago Allie walked into the kitchen holding a very calm, strangely content little kitten. Looks like someone made a new best friend…
5 Tips on Being an Aunt
Prelude: At the end of July I packed my bags, kissed my ever so loving hubbo goodbye, and headed off to Belgium to spend some quality time with my brother’s family. Although we did do some traveling, the majority of this trip was spent just living life.
For those of you who have yet to embark into “Aunt or Uncle-dom" let me give you a few hints on how to succeed.
#1: Get a zoo membership. Or Aquarium. Or playground. Whatever’s closest to you. But do it. It’s fun for them, it’s way fun for you, and it tuckers them out. Win-win, I say!
Honestly- isn’t she just the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen?
The main difference between zoos in the States and zoos in Europe? Touchability! And I’m not just referring to the petting zoo section. Monkeys will jump on you, birds sit on your shoulder, and I swear a bat touched my ear when we were in their cave. (Seriously though, the bat cave is kinda creepy. Its basically a huge room that you walk though with hundreds of bats flying around freely. It sounds like its no big deal, but the room is pretty dark and these big creatures are whooshing around your head. I dare you not to jump the first time.)
#2: Stake a claim on your favorite chair, because, if you are at all lucky, you’ll find yourself curled up with a few munchkins reading books. Reading time is key: not only do you get to rehash the adventures of Pooh, but you also get some snuggles (hard to come by when little ones are so wiggly) .
#3. Bust out some dress up clothes!
Also, don’t be afraid to embarrass yourself in public. Cinderella plays are way for fun for everyone when you are dressed appropriately.
#4. Hone your manicure skills.
"Aunt Britt, you missed a spot"
"Oh sorry Allie. Is that better?"
"Uuuuuummmm, now this finger has more sparkles than that finger."
"We’re going to be here a while, aren’t we?"
Funny side story: can you see all the disney tattoos on Allie’s arms? Those darned temp tattoos refused to come off regardless of how much we scrubbed them. About a week after the first one was put on Allie gets out of her bath, looks down at her arms, fearfully turns to Lindsey and says “But Mommy, I don’t want these tattoos to still be here on my wedding day!" Needless to say, we laughed, and reassured her that they would probably be gone by then.
#5. Know when to pass the little one off to Daddy.
Timing is everything. Kids go to dad when they are in the mood to be thrown through the air for an hour or so.
This rule also applies for gum stuck in the hair, large messes and of course, the dirty diaper. These are the times when it is extraordinarily sweet that you are just the visiting auntie and not the parent. (Ahhh, life is good)
And one last bonus hint:
Learn how to snap a photo. This ensures that you get invited over more often.
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