Quaint and sweet. An Ode to Blade Runner.

So, my dear husband and I managed to get a sitter so we could go see the new Definitive Blade Runner. There we were, at The Senator Theater, with a premium print of one of the most talked about movies of any decade in what the director calls the "Definitive Cut". It's been re-cut 5 times. I'm not sure what that says about a movie, but I'm sure it says something.

So, we leaned back in our seats, stupid grins on our faces, about to see this movie for at least the dozenth time. All the same, my jaw dropped, and my heart ached a bit as the movie opened and the city began belching those familiar, but inexplicable jets of fire -- Vangelis' plaintive sound track at complete odds with the scene. But it was the sets--the REAL sets that had my eyeballs in a vice grip. Okay so they weren't REAL sets, they were miniatures, but in today's movies, where virtual rules, these miniatures counted as real. They had weight and mass that you don't really get in computer generated sets. The thing is, those computer sets are so good, and you are so entranced by them, that you don't see that that weight and mass--essential for any scene to feel real--has been forgotten. You go back and see a well made real-deal miniatures set, and you regret that the mad rush to computer graphics happened at all. It's like movies, the true voice of our culture, have become airier and less substantial. Like the big Busby Berkley (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Busby_Berkeley) extravaganzas--all escape and air and fluff. Just the stuff to help a nation forget the worries of the depression.

I stared at the Tyrell building and marveled at the detail, the little moving elevators creeping up the sides, and my heart ached. I'm not even sure why. I missed movies like this. Blade Runner made me hate the last 6 installments of Star Wars even more for their overblown computer effects. It made them feel like cartoons compared to the art of these miniatures. But that can't be the whole of it. There was more. More about who I was then and now. Now. I had seen Blade Runner in the theater when it first came out in 1982. All my other viewings of the movie had been by way of VCR or DVD. This time, there I was, in the theater again, sitting next to the love of my life, not the mistake of my life.

I was looking at the movies with the man I should have been looking at it the first time I saw it--if only we had met back then. I was looking at my loss of those amazing years, and wondering what I would have been had I been with THIS man, then. I must be going through a sort of mid-life crisis as my kids are entering school, because I have also been looking at old photos. I see my youth, and how amazing I was. The potential I had, and never knew it. I see the actors, in their blush of youth, and I see myself, as I see myself in their aged forms of today. I see the costumes I made, the awards I won, and I wonder where could I have gone with this had I been with THIS man? If I had been raised in a family that supported and loved each other. In the passing of the miniatures technology, I see the passing of my time to succeed, and make my mark in the world. My time, my chance has passed. Now its time to pass the torch to the next generation of computer generated kids, and I never even got a chance to make my mark. It was a good technology. In many ways it was better that the new technology, but it's lost now, as am I.

I met and married my dear husband at my last blush of youth, spent the remainder on my children, and now I am left with only questions about what I could have been, had I only realized how amazing I was.

How do I communicate this to my children? How do I make it clear that they will not know how amazing they are until that time is over? How do I make them understand that they must push the envelope while they are young so that they will know that they did not waste that time--that they used every last precious moment? How can I make them understand that my old miniature world still has weight and value--things that they can learn from and see the beauty of, and not discard in the technicolor over-the-top world that they inhabit?

Blade Runner is a capsule of my life. Both have been recut many times. I have had many false starts as I tried to find my place and way in the world, and getting it right only too late--past my time. Quaint, and sweet, and just plain too late, and way too old.

Of root canals, Siamese balls, Chinese girls and things

First, on a happy normal note, I have been busily making an 18 ft growing Christmas tree for the kids' Nutcracker, as the old one fell apart at the last performance last year. It looks amazing. It's so good that the school owner gave me a hug when she saw it.

The cats went haywire just before Thanksgiving. I thought I'd get them both fixed at the same time, so I made an appointment Monday before Thanksgiving to get them both in December 9th. There. THAT'S one more thing off my list! WELL.....Tuesday morning I see Spring Roll rolling, and rolling, and rolling....and trilling and .....BACKING UP TO TAMAGO with her butt in the air. Dear God. Okay, so Plan B goes into effect, and I email the breeder to see if what I THINK I'm seeing is what I'm actually seeing. Breeder confirms that yes, her cats do often go into heat as early as 4 or 5 months. Tamago looks VERY confused. Panicked call to vet ensues, and he can sneak in Tamago for a quick nip on Wednesday morning. I worry that Tamago will be sick while we are away on Thursday/Friday, but the vet assures me he'll be fine (and he was..but he's still looking VERY deflated, in more ways than one.)

So, as soon as morning arrives, I see no repeat behavior from Spring Roll. I have no idea WHAT was going on anymore, but she's not doing any of the in-heat behaviors anymore. Oh well...gotta get the boy clipped anyway.So I drop him off and turn around to go to my emergency root canal (performed by the son of an old Baltimore Colts player. MAN, even I had office envy, and I'm not a dentist. He has a digital scanner X-Ray machine FGS!! EVERYTHING else was Zeiss! Man. What money can buy.) I then come home, feeling poorer, but better, and settle into making my pies and cakes to bring to Doug's cousins for Thanksgiving. I have JUST enough time to get it all made.

THEN....Xiaoxiao, who NEVER comes out of her room at all--It's like she's living at B&B--lots of interaction with anyone BUT us--comes home from school, and must have taken a look at the chairs I was staining in the garage on her way into her room after school. She steps on a paint sponge, and tracks hunter green poly stain all the way through my kitchen, to the hardwood, up my carpeted stairs and into her room. ALL that squishiness, and she never noticed. So...I, after I check my feet, to be absolutely sure it's not me, I turn off the apples I am caramelizing for the pies I am to bring up to Thanksgiving, and drag her out of her room, hand her the paint thinner, point to the stains throughout the house, and set her to work on the kitchen floor, and carpet while I hauled out the steam cleaner that I am now thanking God that I bought to clean the cat pee left behind by the previous incarnation of Tamago. I tell her NOT to get the paint thinner on the wood floor as it will take off the finish....but nooooooooo. She's gone and scrubbed the wood floor even after my warning, leaving a pale stripe in her wake. I am having a hard time with the idea that the culture in the city of Beijing is so alien that she's, among many other things, never smelled a solvent before. I have traveled in the orient, and I can attest that all big cities are more alike than they are different. I have come to the fanciful conclusion that she's lied about being from Beijing. She's actually from some small agrarian village tucked in the hinterlands of Mongolia where they have no plumbing, and has never seen a white man before. Needless to say, my apples have gone black with oxidation during their wait in the iron pan. No, I didn't think I'd NEED lemon juice to keep them white! I make the pie anyway. Hey, it was Wednesday afternoon! I was out of time!

So, I get the cat back, the stains are gone (mostly), and we pile in the car to go to Doug's cousins for Thanksgiving (having to get a suite at The Naussau Inn because there is no place to put Xiaoxiao in the house). I am told that replacing the milk with soymilk does not make a good pie. "It just does not have the creaminess". I can't help but reply that "it's better than using tofu", and it actually tastes great (ouch!..but that tofu pumkpkin pie was really awful..blech!). Yes, they keep kosher. Makes Thanksgiving a real pain. Soo..I end up being vindicated when on the next day, Doug's cousin asks me where the pumpkin pie is. She wants to give me back my plate. I say that I already have my plate since the pie was inhaled last night after dinner. "Oh". She did tell me to take my black apple pie and almond apple cake home since they'd be having birthday cake that night (her daughter's birthday) and they didn't need any more desserts. Well..I had to agree about the apple pie. It was rather ghoulish, but it did taste just fine. During all this, Xiaoxiao either has ner nose in her American History book (sent to her by her mom from China) or staring blankly--even with two brilliant college girls in the house. She only lights up at the Nassau Inn, when we passed by the Princeton Dorms, and later, saw some signed pics of some famous Princeton men..and Brooke Shields (her pic, not actually her).

So, Xiaoxiao is gone. Leaving behind all the things we gave her: clothes, toothpaste, toothbrush, shampoo--but taking my house key with her. Still haven't got it back. I just could not take it anymore. The idea of us partying below her closed door at Christmas (our tree is in the foyer, below her door) just made me feel WAY too weird.

Ugh....are you laughing?

Well, all things ended well. The kids did great as mice in The Nutcracker. My tree was beautiful, and Doug did great things animating my 10 ft. Mother Ginger puppet. All's well, except now we are all sick!

Oops I did it again.

Well, I know I said I wasn't going to have an exchange student this year, but here I am with one. The battle was lost by increments. It started by Betsy asking if we could house a student from China for a couple weeks until she could place her. I said sure, we could do that. That might be fun for a couple of weeks. When Betsy asked if I thought the school would take her this late in the school year, my ears pricked up a bit. "Why", I asked by way of email, "would she need to enroll in school here if she's going to be placed elsewhere?"

Radio Silence.

Then, a couple of days later. "Could she stay until January? I think I can place her in Silver Spring after January." Hmm...I thought. She'd love it in Silver Spring. "She was placed in a school in St. Mary's County that I had not used before. It has on on-site nursery for all the pregnant teen moms so they can still go to school when they have their babies. She's a little scared there, and she's not going to school at all this week."

Mom Silence.

"Um....yes. She can stay here until January." How could I leave her there? Any longer, and she'd not be able to transfer to another school, and she'd be stuck there. I could not let her think that all of America was like that. Of course, I knew at that moment that she'd really be here all year. How could I kick the girl out?

There was a need for an on-site nursery at a high school? I am still not wrapping my head around that one.

So, here we are, with Xiaoxiao Wang, a.k.a Veronica, a.k.a Sissi. We call her Xiaoxiao. I saw no reason to take a fake name for such an easy-to-pronounce real name. Then I heard the woman in the guidance office try to say it. I had no idea it would be so hard. Had these people never heard of Xuxa, the Brazilian Playboy Centerfold and children's TV host? I know a co-worker that was mad over her (never mind he thought she was Swedish. Apparently, if you are blonde, wear tin soldier costumes and have an accent, you MUST be Swedish.). Anyway, my point is that XuXa is much harder to parse than Xiaoxiao and SHE never changed HER name for the American audience. But then again, I overestimate the worldliness of Americans. Heck, If I hear WAAAng one more time I'M gonna scream. Jerry, wherever you are, I know it's always said WOng. You taught me well. There is no long "a" in Mandarin. I think Xiaoxiao has dropped the "Veronica" she arrived with, and goes by Sissi now. Sissy the Austrian Princess. It's a famous Austrian movie that is Germany's beloved movie, like "Wizard of Oz"is ours (Thank you Verena!). It seems it was also a big thing in China. Weird Synchronicity, eh?

Xiaoxiao is from Beijing. She is very invested in going to college in the U.S. She spends most of her time in her room studying. Good thing I spent that last week before she came, ripping down the rest of the awful 1970's wallpaper and ramming up the new paint. I just put a built-in small desk in the niche in her room this week. We see her for meals, and that's about it. At least she comes out now. Last week she was in tears, trying to study U.S. History. Oh my god, like she could EVER find a translation for "Grange" in her little translator doohickie!

Now she will allow us to help her, and I see some of the stress lifting from her. I hope she will not spend all of her time studying. She will miss so much here if she does. We can't possibly show here the U.S like we did Verena. We simply can't afford it. She does, however, seem to be very eager to take the bull by the horns (that's a joke for those of you in the know) and plunge into events without any prompting forom us--like the Homecoming Dance. Heck, she's already got her dress!

The overwhelming nature of kindergarten

I find the kids' new school to be oppressive. Today was gym day (it rotates), and Naomi had to sit out of gym because she did not have the proper shoes. She was in the sandals she always plays in. Now mind you, we were not given a schedule of Gym days. I double checked through the PILE of absolute crap that was sent home (things like the meaningless letter from the principal, the disgusting fast/junk FOOD fund raising flier, the student handbook where they ask you to talk to your 5-year-old about it being against the rules to use drugs, and be late to school and the like, and then ask the kids to sign it and return it.) She was so sad, and I was pretty peeved. All they do is run up and down the gym with shuffly steps like elves. Oppressive! If perhaps I had been allowed to come to the school open house, I might have had time to look at the things posted on the walls and write notes about when there was a certain dress code.

THAT was one of those automated phone calls--the whole open house evening. First, we got a call that said, "Oh, sorry, we found out that not all of our new students got the invitation for the new student open house. Please come." Then after talking to the principal about maybe getting a collection together for someone--or me to go get ALL the classroom supplies instead of all of us mothers going to get only one of each item on the 13 item list (never happened), I mention that I'll see her on the open house. Well, she tells me that the kindergartners are NOT invited to the open house since they have the gradual entry thing. I get another automated call later that week, reminding me not to come.

AND, today they were learning about signs, Stop, Exit...and the big learning tool was reading fast food signs and singing a song about "McDonalds, Taco Bell, Pizza Hut, Dunkin' Donuts and Kentucky Fried Chicken" where they repeated the names of the chains over and over....and over. Dear god....Are there no other signs we can use? I guess the kids don't care, but I found it really weird..and ...Appalachian, in a Glass Castles sort of way. My children were being drilled, and I mean DRILLED in recognizing fast food chain signs and logos. I was speechless.

To top it off, the other room mom and I were getting all geared up to get the Halloween party going and we were both deflated. We were informed that all treats MUST be store bought--except for the gingerbread man that they are making in class that day. THAT'S okay. I asked about the peanut allergy child so we could avoid issues, and asked if was okay to have M&Ms (they are processed in a plant that once had peanuts mentioned in its halls. Important to kids with really bad alergies). The teacher replied that she did not know, but that the gingerbread man was okay. Um...that was not the question, and is not relevant in any way. UGH!

When we asked how elaborate we could get, the teacher replied that the kids already get so much candy, that we should keep it small. HUH??? Candy???? Who said anything about candy? We wanted to know if we could plan games and decorations and the like. The other room mom had an elaborate spread sheet of what the previous mom had done, and it involved fruit plates and all. So, if all the food has to be store bought, that means that we have to get store made fruit platters too! OH GIVE ME BREAK!!! We were told it was a school rule. I asked is it a school rule or a COUNTY rule, and she corrected herself that it was COUNTY rule. Hmmmm...methinks this is not entirely true since I personally know a mom in the same school system that brought brownies to school for her child's birthday. Of course, we have been told that we are not allowed to bring food treats for our childrens' birthdays.

Of course, I am not one to be easily stopped, especially when it involves the well-being (and delight) of my children. I checked. Yep, I called the school system, and found that it is NOT a rule. It's just recommended. They like the labels so that all the moms can see what's in it, and well, they think that store bought food is made in a kitchen with better hygiene than the regular mom's kitchen. Ahem....where have all the food-born issues been coming from recently??? NOT from mom's kitchen! This principal is really going to be the end of me.....or I the end of her.

I am so downtrodden already. My muse is deflated. I thought this was going to be a glorious time of parent involvement. Now it's just plain weird and spiritless. Do I home school??? Things have changed so much in the last 40 years when I was in kindergarten....and from the kids' (and my) preschool. Am I just in culture shock?

Oh, and one more of the best learning tools that there ever was has been shot down. I am told by the other room mom that field trips are to be limited. Great, we can stuff our kids' head full of Corporate American fast food logos, but we can't take them to the Smithsonian. I THINK the kids will be okay, but they will not get the education I had hoped for them. The question is, how will I survive this oppression? PTA, Here I come...like it or not. The OTHER question is how do I reconcile the fact that this school is performing WELL above (double the numbers) of the rest of the county? If I move them, well, does that mean that they will go to a school that is worse? Is going by the numbers just plain stupid (as I sort of feel is so) because the numbers really just show how devoid of originality and oppressive a school is? These are my kids' minds we are talking about. I don't want them in the hands of people who thing that mozzerella dippers is a meal--or that "all twins need to be separated because all twins depend on each other". Another gem from the principal. If you insert any other words for "twins" and "depend on each other" you get a racial slur that would land you in serious trouble. Yes, I won on that one, but I still am dumbfounded that ANY educator, let alone one that made it to the rank of principal, could ever utter such insanely stupid and untrue words. I fear that any contact my kids may with this woman could only make them label themselves in stupid and restricting ways. I plan to stand firmly between her and my babies. Of course, I also have to deal with the fallout my kids will have to take as I become their advocates in a "racist" school. I am sure I am the talk of the school since i raised such a big stink to get my kids in the same class. There is another set of b/g twins in kindergarten, and they were split. I have been told by other moms that that had 'never heard of not splitting twins". OMG. why can't twins be as individual as any other set of siblings?

There are tears in my eyes as she leaves for home.

She's on her way home now, and it was very very hard saying goodbye. We did so many remarkable things in her last couple of months. We went to Old Rhinebeck Aerodrome and put her, the kids, and me in an open cockpit biplane. I swear to god that plane sang to me. The wind through the rigging is all you need to fly that bird. You can tell EVERYTHING--airspeed, pitch, Everything, just by the sound of the wind in the wires. And boy does it want to stay in the air. I may have set a new pilot on her path to the sky. That would be nice.

She made her own hand-blown/pulled art glass flower at Corning Glass Museum. and took a hop in one of the most influential planes in private aviation: The Piper Cub (okay, so I couldn't resist either, and I took a hop. After all, it's my duty as a pilot to fly one at least once). She tried to land her virtual jet on a carrier on the simulator--with no luck (Hey, I still got it! I nailed it on the second try--after they divulged to me that the rudder was not connected!)

I sent her to her prom looking amazing in a red silk shantung corset and mermaid skirt. Spent forever curling her hair! I only had a curling iron! She spent her last days here in a flurry of evenings out with her newfound friends (any of you out there considering being an exchange student, I recommend going for the full year. It took Verena about 4 months to find her circle of friends, so she only had a short time with them). Her father arrived after her graduation and took her out to see the American West for 2 weeks. They stayed with us for this last weekend, and we took them to see the Amish (to see what happens to the language when it comes over in an insular culture) and to see the Smithsonian and some of DC. We ate whoopie pies and corn fritters in Lancaster and grasshopper tacos with Mexican hot chocolate in DC. It was funny, as one of my themes with Verena--my stock answer:"Settled by Puritans" finally sunk in on our Amish visit. She asked why they came here (Why come here to stay German). Well, dear, you guys sorta kicked them out. You thought they were just too weird, so they up and left, like so many other religious splinter groups. I saw by the look in her eyes as she finally "got it" that she understood a bit more about us as Americans now. Yes, settled by Puritans. That's one reason we are the way we are we are. We ran from oppression for the chance to live as we wished. Bullheaded? Yep. That's us. Now you see why. We can't help it. It's why we are here.

I think she even finally understood what I was talking about when I spoke with her about visiting Berlin, and the Berlin Wall. I had said that the whole event must still be evident in Berlin's culture--indeed in all of Germany's culture. She replied that it didn't affect her at all. Hmm. I didn't believe it then, and I don't believe it now. History is like a dysfunctional family. Even when the dysfunction is not carried on by the kids, they still feel the effects of it, and as a result, so do their kids. Patterns of behavior, began as a way to deal with dysfunction, will persist even after the reason for the behavior is removed. It's like an echo. In history, the echo is just broader based. After meeting the Amish, I think she may see things with a more worldly eye. They are a good example of a culture transplanted. Since they keep to themselves, it's easy to see what they brought to this country, and see that connection to their roots. For the rest of us, our traditions are there, but it's harder to easily see where they come from. The easiest example (but harder for to see unless one travels a lot) is our regional accents. The mid-west carries some of it's Norse and Swedish heritage in the way they speak English, even though there are no large influxes of Norse arriving there now, as there are Spanish speakers in Miami. The history is evident in the language, and it's there in the culture too. Of course, travel has that same effect on a person. Once you spend time traveling--not just being a tourist, you are changed forever. It's evident now in Verena, and that's a good thing.

Yesterday I bought a dozen crabs and some Sam Adams and taught them both how to eat real crabs, since they will never eat real crabs anywhere but in Maryland. To my delight, Verena's dad loved them! They both caught on easily--not an easy feat for a European. Verena had already had her first crabs out with friends, so we knew she liked them. Sam Adams fans, well, the beer passes muster. All the varieties we tried got a "pretty good" rating from Verena's dad. High praise indeed, from a German. Really, German beers are best. Yes, I actually drank German beer while visiting Verena's parents in Germany, and loved it.

What an education it has been for me. I have learned so much about my country and learned to love it. The freedoms we have are not always as obvious as we think they are. We pay for them in odd ways. Our educational system does not seem to be on par with the rest of the world, but we have something that at least Germany does not: CHOICE. Verena was dazzled at the choices she had for classes. Art. Music, Forensics, Psychology. She does not have such choices at home. Yes, she can blow any US student out of the water in straight academics: Math, science, foreign language, but she must choose her academic path very early in her career. Artists go to art school, academics go to math or science schools. You choose your path before high school. No one knows what they want until at least their junior year in college. So students in Germany may miss their true calling because they are not exposed to the variety of things our students are exposed to. Even their school theater projects do not compare well to our school theater productions. If they have any at all, it must be fully realized by the students themselves. There is no one there to teach them. I saw the awe in Verena's eyes as she saw wealth of choices our kids have. I saw that she wished she had those opportunities.

We seem to catch up in college. We'd be a much poorer place without MIT, eh? Is it so bad that we are "behind" in high school? We are simply educating our kids in a manner that enriches their lives with exposure to many more things than Germans get. This can only be a good thing, and it feeds the soul of the American child. It may even nurture what makes us unique the world: Our freedom. It's the only way we can make up for being so insulated from the world. We can't just drive for an hour and be in a different country as easily as any part of Europe. That also makes us what we are. I have it on good authority that German tourists are as embarrassing to a German as American tourists are to Americans

I have been given a priceless glimpse into what my future holds with my own two priceless children. All the headaches, the drama, the communication issues. I will be better prepared to help my own kids through what can be an awful time. I owe Verena quite a lot for that information. It's really hard having a teenager in your home--probably harder having one that is not your own--but anything worth doing is worth working for. I will not miss the extra laundry, the defiant nature, or being the taxi, but I will miss Verena. A lot. She is truly worth a price above rubies.

Okay, so I am burning out.

OMG, I am SO tired of doing Verena's laundry, on top of the rest of the family's. I cannot understand why she brings her laundry down to the machines, but will not do it herself. American washers and driers are so much simpler than German ones. I am tired of hanging and folding her laundry. Cripes, I think I was doing MY whole family's laundry at age 12. UGH. The last straw was the cake debacle. I'm not so sure I can host another student. She wanted to make a birthday cake for the kids since I had sent her to Florida for the week of their birthday (spring break). It was last Friday, and we had a date for all three of us to go to the Helmond while the kids played at their favorite gym for 3 hours so we are on a time constraint. She asks if she should make it, and I say sure....but of course, she needs supplies. After a bit of a search to find out exactly what it was that she needed (it was cornstarch, not one of your usual vocabulary words) I agree to run out and get it for her. UGH. I do need to do my own work today. So, when I get back I find she has fed the kids a snack of cheese and crackers, telling them to leave room for lunch. Huns, I know of no 5-year-old that can do that. So, they are positively stuffed, and I must now hang around and dawdle until they are hungry so I can have any hope of getting something besides dairy in them today--which is what they have been living on for a couple of weeks. Dinner of course, will be pizza for them at the gym. So, since I can't really get into my work, with the time constraint, I decide to go sneak in a nap. Can I do it. Oh man, I am SO tired. O lay my head down, and not five minutes later I hear Verena calling for me. She needs that long loaf pan that all the German cakes seem to get made in. I tell her no one has that size here and to use the regular loaf pan, and put the rest of the batter in cupcakes. Disaster averted. I try again. She calls again. She simply MUST have a sieve with which to sift the dry ingredients. I tell her that the last sieve I had was given to the kids for the sandbox. Now you all know that I bake...A LOT. I never sift. My cakes are great. She's very upset. I give up on the nap and try to go get some work on the computer done (all this time the kids, thank God, are entertaining themselves. If they actually needed me I might have bitten their heads off. I did not want to bake today....but I am being drafted to do so.) But noooooooo. The cake is not done after the alloted time. She looks at me like I told her the wrong temperature to bake it at. Most cakes are baked at 350. Her directions said "flame 2". 350 was fine. It was the wider cake pan that was the issue. No worries, we just bake it longer..still...the drama. I try again to work a bit. But wait. No. She needs chocolate to melt and pour over the cake. I tell her to use the chocolate chips and add some cream so that it is easy to cover and cut the cake. No, she INSISTS on using bakers chocolate. I sigh deeply. look at the remains of the birthday cake I made for the kids--covered in melted chocolate (chocolate chips), and pull out the bakers chocolate. Yes, of course I have some on hand. I am a baker. Now I try to go get myself and the kids ready for our evening out....again she needs me. It tastes AWFUL, she says. I ask if she's added any sugar to the chocolate, and how much cream. She says she used the semisweet, and she did not know how much cream to use. It does look awful--like water got into it. She's already covered most of the cake. She's terribly upset, and I hear myself saying, well, I did say to use the chocolate chips (oh, bad mommy)Oh well, no bailing outta this one. I sigh again, and suggest cutting it now, while it's warm. She asks about candles (um, we gotta get outta here dear) and I simply say that I think we are beyond candles now. The cake itself is really pretty good, though she says it bears no resemblance to what it's supposed to taste like. Then, thankfully, it's time to pile in the car--me a very sad mommy. I seemed to have been busy all day, but doing someone else's work. When we get back, I get to clean up the pots and pans. Yesterday, she asks me if I had ever made a chocolate cake before (EXCUSE ME??). I said yes, certainly. It was one of the first cakes I made you. You loved it. The one with the chocolate chips and nuts on top, and the dates inside. She asks.."and you used that awful American baking chocolate"? Yes dear (but IN the batter, NOT as a frosting.). Oh.

So I'm getting ready to go to Germany

So I'm getting ready to go to Germany. Really. Not because of my exchange student, but because I said to hell with it, I am going to visit a friend whom I miss dearly. I'm off to visit Christine. I tell you, it has been a mad laugh-a-minute trying to get things settled. Starting with my new passport, which had the audacity to run out last year. OMG. I had tears in my eyes when I got my new one. It seems that nowadays they return your old passport, which is really great, because I am going to be hard pressed to let anyone pry the kids' passports outta my cold dead hands when I renew theirs. If you saw them, you'd understand. But back to the tears. Well, when they return the old passport, and they, for some untold god-awful reason, staple the spare (you send two) new photo right above the pic on your old passport. What they keep on file is now a mystery to me, but the sheer evilness of putting those two pics together us unforgivable. Is it the Bush administration's evil plot to crush the self esteem of all American women that have the need to see the world? My heart weeps at the losses that only a dozen (or less) years can rack up on a woman's face. In those short years I went from the last blush of youth to an old hag. Is this what motherhood does? Does it make is old hags? I fear it does. Is it worse for me because I waited so long, and everything just piled on me at one time? Is it just that having twins sucks every last bit of life from a mom? Not sure what it is tickling the back of my brain, except for the utter and deep-felt truth that well. I'd do it again. I just wish I had had the brains god gave a gnat when I was younger so that I would have enjoyed those days of youth and made some better life-decisions--earlier. This is what is truly meant by "youth is wasted on the young."

Enough of that rant, and on to the next.

So I am trying to meet up with my good friend Christine and her family and trying to met Verena's--except no one is willing to step up to the plate and set down an itinerary. They keep asking ME what I want to do, WHERE and WHEN I want to meet. Jesus you guys, it's GERMANY. It's ALL Germany. I just don't care what part of it I see. You guys tell ME! I am going to be so jet lagged that all I care about is actually seeing my friends. I certainly am NOT going to impose a schedule on my friend who also has 2 small children. I'd be happy to simply follow her to the grocery store! Verena's parents aren't helping either. I keep saying it's fine to meet me at the airport but they never say if they will be there or not. They ask if I want to stop somewhere for lunch. Um...It's Germany. I'll do anything....or not...but it's not up to me. It's up to my chauffeur--Christine.

All this and as soon as I get back I need to launch into the kids' birthday party, where Easter and Passover have rudely conspired to send most of their friends away on wonderful vacations, or restrict their diets so no one can have birthday cake. Alas, what's pair of spring babies gonna do about it except suck it up every few years?

And Verena? She's doing very well, and getting good grades. She's struck up some friendships that may end up having meaning, and already had to say "can't we just be friends" to one boy. She mustered the courage to try out for the school's production of "Noises Off". You go girl.

So you want to visit the White House?

Oh my, my. Are we sore today. We took the jaunt to the White House. We were met by men in dark suits and earpieces with curly wires running down their necks. Really. Our AYUSA contact did the legwork to get us inside. You have to get signed up in advance, get your background checked, and then you are on THE LIST to be let in. We probably now have permanent files in some FBI or CIA office now for harboring a German exchange student.

So since one can't take cameras inside, I volunteered to wait outside with Verena's camera while the kids, Doug and Verena took the tour. They thought that our AYSUA contact was going to lead a tour, so they dawdled inside the warm White House waiting for Betsy while I froze my a** off waiting outside. I guess I shoulda told them that AYUSA never said that they would send anyone for us. How was I to know that they thought that? Anyway, the kids came out bubbling over about all the color-themed rooms. Adam could not stop talking about the blue room (which in actuality could be argued to be the Yellow Room). He loved the wallpaper border that matched the real moire silk curtains and swags. So, I went through the tour too, and took the kids and Verena along for a second ride. It was a real hoot. (Though not as fun as with Adam in the Statue of Liberty in NYC where the boy climbed 156 stairs with nary a whine, and submitted to my weak attempt at humor when I joked with him about the statue not having any underpants as we gazed up her dress from the inside--she's French, you know) Am I going to have to go put up a wallpaper curtain border in his room now? I hope not. I thought his room was finally finished. Anyway, the kids LOVED the tour.

Funny how I often seem to be the only ones asking any questions on these kinds of tours. I asked about the ball and chains hanging from the eagle-shaped wall sconces, and the MIB in that room with the earpiece and curly wire dutifully answered that if you pulled both of them at the same time, all the toilets in the white house would flush. Hah-hah. Really, you can't do that since unless you have two people. They are too far away. Must be a safety feature. He did also say that the eagles were the USA (no kidding bub) and the ball and chains were a symbol of our dominion over the world. He admitted that it sounded arrogant. Hey, the sconces were very very old.

So we finish up with the White House. On the way to meeting a friend or ours to get lunch, I made Verena pose for a pic with the big president cutouts. She chose Bush, not Clinton. Is that even a fair choice? Blech! Now I have one of my Great Aunt with Clinton, and one of Verena with Bush. I have a nice little collection going! Even getting into the food court, we had to go through security. I wonder what Verena thinks about the USA when just about every place we have taken her she needs to go through security. It makes ME really feel how much the world must hate us. Oh well, GB got over it. So will we.

So then we were off to the Air and Space Museum. Mind you, it's too much to ask a couple of five-year-olds to walk all this distance, so Adam and Naomi are usually riding on our shoulders. OMG....the pain. But it was worth it. We walk into the A&S and I look back to see Verena's eyes widen and jaw drop in awe and wonder. Adam and Naomi are too young to "get it", but Verena sees all the large mass of worldwide achievement and surely does. She did remark how she liked seeing it all from our point of view. I had to agree that I like the same sort of thing while watching the BBC news. It's a good way to get a clearer view of the world and one's place in it. It's a good thing we had Steve with us, so that Verena could have some questions answered if need be. We were too busy wrangling kids to be of much help to her.

I was proud that we not only have all our achievements, but a good array of Soviet, and German (the Red Baron especially) and now, private business achievements. Hey, did you know that the A&S now owns the Mars lander? They renamed it, and plan to get a plaque up and mounted on it one day. They already have the plaque made and on display next to the model. Too cute. I was even MORE proud to see a copy of Doug's game "Ace of Aces" prominently displayed in a case outside the WWI section of the museum across from the Red Baron display. Way, way, way cool! My husband has HIS work in the NATIONAL AIR AND SPACE MUSEUM! OMG! Sure that I caught the ear of a security guard or two as I squealed in delight! Hmm....can you be proud and jealous at the same time?

It's now about 5:00 and he kids are now about to implode so we feed them a smoothie, hoist them on our shoulders once again, and make the long trek back to the car. Doug confessed this morning that he felt pretty good about how sore I was today because he thought it was "just him" gettinmg tired under the weight of a kid. He said that every fiber in his body was screaming for relief while we were walking with the kids on our shoulders, but he was going to be danged if he was going to put Adam down before I put Naomi down. Bless him, he didn't, and yes, we are wrecks today. We feel so very old! The thing is that we both need to lose a bit less than that the kids weigh, so think about how much better we'd feel if we could shed what we shed when we put the kids down after the day! Do we really feel that bad all the time?

Next scheduled stop, The Holocaust museum with AYUSA.

Our Exchange student adventure has started off well.

I really should have started this when Verena arrived. Alas, as with everything I do, there is just not enough time. Our start was a bit rocky, as AYUSA, the organization that set up her exchange appears to not be terribly on-the-ball. To their credit, they were the only ones to actually get back to us with more than a form letter. I expected to have student arrive in September, but there she was, at our doorstep January 16th. According to AYUSA, she was to start classes on the 26th. That would give her a week to get her jet lag under control. When I called the school, they would not let her start until the following week, when the semester started. HUH??? Since when did the semester NOT end at Christmas? Well, this was a shock, and poor Verena had to sit here twiddling her thumbs fro two weeks being bored out her mind until she could meet people at school. We did an "intervention" and called some friends of friends that had kids in school and we got them together with Verena. Ahhh...social interaction! The second blow for Verena was that she could only choose 2 classes. TWO??? Yes, they only have 4 classes a semester. It seems lots of things have happened since I went to school in this county. We had 7, as I recall, and so does Verena's friend who is studying in Wisconsin (poor thing). After some convincing by me and one achingly silly false Chemistry start (where they introduced the metric system and the concept of a mole!), she finally ended up with the two classes they require of her: American History and American Literature, and (geeze, I wish I had had this) Forensic Science and Psychology--both half credits so she has two other silly fillers to back them up. Boy, Verena looked mighty blue for a day or so after that first scheduling meeting. She felt awful that she was going to not have any math. I did try to warn her that she was WAY too smart for our schools. Even the school and AYUSA did not believe me until our contact, who was a Spanish teacher "tested" her on the spot and finally agreed with me that the girl was fluent and should NOT take Spanish 2.

The two weeks I had spent with her spoke HUGE volumes as to her education and intelligence. For those of you that know anything about the German education system, she is in Gymnasium-the highest level-at home. I offered her the chance to change host families, and told her that she would NOT hurt my feelings if she wanted to go to a larger city with a more diverse school schedule. She flatly refused and regaled me with stories of woe from other exchange students she had known or heard of. Simply awful things involving opening and reading mail, forcing muslim girls to go to church, issues with host family sons, and so on. She feels we are a real find, and I think I must agree. We seem to be the only ones that are not just "lumps" providing a bed and some meals and asking that she do chores. We want to show her the US.

We just got back form Chinese New Year in NYC! We took her to her first Broadway show (Hairspray, what else?). We showed her Chinatown, The Empire State, Ellis Island and The Statue of Liberty (We hadn't been to either Ellis or Liberty) and (Gulp) Ground Zero. THAT was hard. I had come so close to losing 4 people in there, and one in the Pentagon. It was an odd mixture of feelings as I stood there, with my guts on the floor for how horrific it all was, and triumphant that my twins, who were two months inside me at the time it all happened, were happy, healthy, and a grand raspberry to those sick and misguided warmongers who were tricked into doing a madman's work. The tears in Verena's eyes were a strange shadow of what every American feels about it all. It was comforting to see such solidarity with us in a young European's face. Ahhh... the wonderful heart of youth. It seems to be the same, no matter WHAT the nationality.

So, as I said, this girl is so smart, and so poised that I keep forgetting that she is not a native speaker. She speaks 4 languages (Her German, with the usual bundle of English, French, Spanish), fluently, and no one would know that she is not a native English speaker if you were to read her class essays. It's still tough for her to get any social activity outside school hours, and I feel for her on that matter. It peeves me to no end (and I'm sure pushes my buttons because of my own experience in high school) that a couple of the girls (the ones we hooked Verena up with) will offer to do something with her, and then back out at the last minute, saying that their parents "won't let them". Huh? Not sure I believe it, but hey, I haven't gotten my own act together enough to get their parent's over here for dinner so we can meet---but then neither have they. The one time we dropped off Verena at a Super Bowl party at another exchange student's house, the host family could not even be bothered to come out to say hi to us, and meet us. I was NOT invited inside, so I did insist on getting out of the car to at least meet the exchange student who was waiting outside for us, shivering in the cold.

Is this not weird, or am I?

So, Verena is settled in, finally receiving real snail mail form all over the world. She says that she does not know what she wants to do with her life. Does any 17-year-old? Oh, man, to have her brains, talent, and skills at just 17.....the world truly is her oyster.