On Saturday, we went to an air force base nearby for their, er, open house. Well, that's what they call it. Okay, it translates exactly as "open days" but that makes no sense at all, translated. Thus: the Royal Dutch Air Force Open House.
Douwe and Daan had enough fun looking up at the planes and helicopters while standing in the parking lot nearby to last them a month; however, we drove there, might as well go in.
They had, I must say, several really excellently planned aspects of crowd control; and at least one very badly planned one. There was a lot of water everywhere, whch was good. There were a lot of first aid units available for people who did not drink the aforementioned and then walked several kilometers on an air force base in the beating hot sun where there is 1) absolutely no air conditioning; and 2) no shade anywhere except in the hangars which strongly resemble really big ovens. (The kids were thrilled each time -- "Look mom, an ambulance!" I think they thought it was part of the show.) * They had people in what I believe were marine uniforms stationed at the entrance with -- of all things-- huge bottles of sunscreen which they glopped into the hand of every person associated with a child and instructed them firmly to put it on the child. There is something to be said for having a really large uniformed person around to dispense the suncreen. I got Absolutely No backtalk about the sunscreen from my sons. Which is unusual. Maybe I should hire a retired marine to come round when we are going out.
Hey, Ernest was Air Force, now that I think of it. I wonder if his uniform still fits. Hmmm.
And they had these little (actually, they were pretty big) stickers which were put on the front or back of every child (depending on the tendency of the wearer to pull it off and throw it away) with the child's first name and the mobile number of the associated adult, which I thought was clever.
Yes, actually, both my kids had them on their backs between the shoulder blades, why do you ask?
Douwe looked at all the exhibits (which were in the hangars) but the only one that really captured his attention was -- are you ready for this? -- the display by the people who do forensics on crashes and other aviation mishaps. Well, the video of exploding helicopters and midair airplane collisions and various airborne vehicles suddenly becoming little balls of flame no doubt had something to do with it. However, he asked me what those people in the video were doing, so I told him they were trying to find out why the crash happened, and they could tell by looking at the pieces (the display thoughtfully included a lot of various pieces of formerly airborne machinery in various states of investigation). He asked how that could be. So we went through the displayed bits and pieces and I talked about them. He said, "It's a puzzle,". I agreed it was like a really big puzzle.
So for a short time he decided that he did not want to be a pilot, he wanted to do puzzles when he grew up. Though after Ernest took him in the F-16 flight simulator, he was back to being a pilot.
Daan enjoyed the mock Battle of Britain quite well, and disliked the F-16s because they make too much noise. He wanted to know what the bombs were, because they were not fireworks, and I told him that sometimes you just need to blow something up, and when you do, then you use a bomb. This seemed to satisfy him, though it did earn me rather a lot of bombing in the tub since then.
The Apache Helicopter stunt team (which has a real name and is a fighting unit, but I cannot remember it now) is really amazing and they left the rest in the shade. The formation flying in the jets and the stunt flying was pretty cool; but what can I tell you, it wasn't the Blue Angels. (lol) .
Today I got to do my penace for not paying attention to the sun; I put on sunscreen, but only once all day. My kids, well, I was very busy greasing them up, so they are just fine. I however, am a lovely red on my arms and, since it's Father's Day, we went sailing. So I got to spend a 90 degree day with long sleeves on to cover my already burnt arms.
I'll remember the sunscreen next time.
*Apropos, I would like to point out that my children were wearing sweaters to school this past week. Then it was 30 degrees this weekend, which works out in the 90s if I am doing the math properly. Next week: snow. Kidding.
Monday, June 20, 2005
This picture has not ben rotated
The damned thing really can fly upside down. It is a very strange thing to see a helicopter fly upside down.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
The Prodigal
Last week, I sent some email to some folks stateside and suggested that I had some free time should they have anything they would like for me to do. I should have known better.
Ernest, who goes where the wild goose goes, has at least for the moment had enough of migration and has come home from Brazil. Just before he left for Brazil, he sold his apartment. He did not buy another one, because he was after all going to Brazil. So the wild goose is apparently nesting for some period of time right here in Brabant. In this very house, in fact. In the room which used to be the room where the computer is.
Since the only time I have to work without sixty million interruptions from my offspring is in fact between 10 pm and 2 am, this was on that front a touch awkward. erahem.
We have no network at home despite having a gracious plenty of computers and the only DSL hookup is in that room. A network is of course the obvious solution; however, this would require some effort from Dearly Beloved who is at this moment after all working two jobs and is not especially in the mood for domestic requests. And anyway despite being a real wizard at it, he hates, hates, hates doing all things related to networks.
The obvious place for the computer was in fact on the other side of the wall with the DSL hookup. Unhappily, that space was occupied by Daan's bed. The obvious place to move Daan's bed was next to the cabinet with the kids' clothes; unhapily this space was occupied by a large empty fish tank big enough for Douwe and Daan to lie down in together (please do not ask me how I am certain of this). And though I have not studied physics in any depth, I am nevertheless familiar with the notion about two objects and the same space at the same time. I am also familiar with the Doctrine of the Small Female Person, to wit: when you need something large moved, mention it in a helpless way to the nearest large bearer of the Y chromosome, then go make tea or something.
Did I mention that Dearly Beloved is presently working two jobs, just finished completely redoing the cellar, and is Not In The Mood for.... surely I did.
Well, the problem was solved quite handily when I brought to Ernests' attention that I really needed to work but could not and added the bonus that if the computer were not in that room, I would not need to be tracking in and out of there several times a day.
So Ernest moved the DSL line and the computer and the fish tank (which is now on its side on the roof and has miraculously transformed into my new cold frame, hot damn can't wait for Fall lettuce) and Daan's bed. Which was very nice of him.
Now I have to go to the Ikea and buy chests of drawers for the kids and move all the book shelves and.... why? Because once you start making changes, it's like rabbits in a warm hutch, they just start multiplying. Hope I can get it all done before July. Oh, yeah, and my work, too.
erahem.
Ernest, who goes where the wild goose goes, has at least for the moment had enough of migration and has come home from Brazil. Just before he left for Brazil, he sold his apartment. He did not buy another one, because he was after all going to Brazil. So the wild goose is apparently nesting for some period of time right here in Brabant. In this very house, in fact. In the room which used to be the room where the computer is.
Since the only time I have to work without sixty million interruptions from my offspring is in fact between 10 pm and 2 am, this was on that front a touch awkward. erahem.
We have no network at home despite having a gracious plenty of computers and the only DSL hookup is in that room. A network is of course the obvious solution; however, this would require some effort from Dearly Beloved who is at this moment after all working two jobs and is not especially in the mood for domestic requests. And anyway despite being a real wizard at it, he hates, hates, hates doing all things related to networks.
The obvious place for the computer was in fact on the other side of the wall with the DSL hookup. Unhappily, that space was occupied by Daan's bed. The obvious place to move Daan's bed was next to the cabinet with the kids' clothes; unhapily this space was occupied by a large empty fish tank big enough for Douwe and Daan to lie down in together (please do not ask me how I am certain of this). And though I have not studied physics in any depth, I am nevertheless familiar with the notion about two objects and the same space at the same time. I am also familiar with the Doctrine of the Small Female Person, to wit: when you need something large moved, mention it in a helpless way to the nearest large bearer of the Y chromosome, then go make tea or something.
Did I mention that Dearly Beloved is presently working two jobs, just finished completely redoing the cellar, and is Not In The Mood for.... surely I did.
Well, the problem was solved quite handily when I brought to Ernests' attention that I really needed to work but could not and added the bonus that if the computer were not in that room, I would not need to be tracking in and out of there several times a day.
So Ernest moved the DSL line and the computer and the fish tank (which is now on its side on the roof and has miraculously transformed into my new cold frame, hot damn can't wait for Fall lettuce) and Daan's bed. Which was very nice of him.
Now I have to go to the Ikea and buy chests of drawers for the kids and move all the book shelves and.... why? Because once you start making changes, it's like rabbits in a warm hutch, they just start multiplying. Hope I can get it all done before July. Oh, yeah, and my work, too.
erahem.
Friday, June 10, 2005
Just another meme
A bow to Jozet, who tagged me on this one.
1. Estimate the total number of books you've owned in your life.
Oh. My. God. Do I have to count the collections of Golden Age Science Fiction and of Erotica which I sold after I got out of college and just before law school respectively because I needed the money? The dirty books made me more money than the science fiction, it must be said.
Do I count jointly owned books? All my children's books were jointly owned and all my books now are jointly owned. My children now own a fair number of my children's books, come to think of it.
And all the books I trashed reading them in the tub and writing in the margins? And the ones I bought and then returned to the Book Nook a week later to trade in on new ones? Do I count the ones I never read or started and tossed?
The stripped copies I used to get by the box from my pals who worked at the bookstore?
In my life? Oh dear.
I have been alive and literate, let's see, on the order of 2 thousand weeks as I figure it.
I want to say a million, since the number of books I have owned seems to me to rival the number of stars in the sky or grains of sand on a beach. Why I have not had to build a whole new house to accommodate them I have no idea. I surely could build a house out of them, should the End Times be closer than we had thought.
But realistically, I would call it about 20,000.
2. What's the last book you bought?
For myself? Or for anybody?
For myself, I recently bought "Q" which is pretty good but slow going; and "The Birth of Venus" which is a nice historical fiction bit of fluff. I also stole a biography of Rasputin from my father when we were in the States.
I bought "The Visitor" and "The DaVinci Code" for Dearly Beloved, the latter because he wanted to read it in English.
Okay, I did not buy "the DaVinci Code", I stole it from my mother. Er, I mean, I mistakenly put it in my suitcase and was aghast to discover it when we got back to Holland, yeah.
Well, I am bringing it back in July, geez.
3. What's the last book you read?
I am now rereading the Rasputin biography and last night I reread the Mists of Avalon becasue I was not up to any nonfiction. I do a lot of rereading these days, as my options for English language books are limited.
4. List 5 books that mean a lot to you.
They all do, I am a reading Don Juan, eternally in love with whatever I am reading at the moment. (Well, as long as we are on the subject of erotica, I suppose a reading Juliette, as I am not seducer but seduced....).
I enjoy reading the side of a box of cornflakes as much as the most scintillating prose, though the cornflakes rarely give me anything to talk about afterwards so I rarely mention them. But I found out which ones I really wanted to keep when we moved and I had to get rid of a lot of stuff. That's when you find out what you cannot live without -- when you have to pay to have it shipped halfway around the world.
1) My OED. I am still limping along with the two volume condensed and will someday own the edition which takes up an entire bookshelf -- is it 12 volumes now? But I love my OED and its little magnifying glass. I also love my Yale Shakespeare especially since I got it at the Book Nook for nearly nothing.
2) My copy of "The Moon is a Harsh Mistress". I love Uncle Bob, even if he only has three male characters and two female characters which he recycles endlessly. And the female characters all have huge tits (except one) and are eternally beautiful and have IQs over 200 and are improbably even tempered and submissive. I don't care, I love Uncle Bob anyway.
3) All my Ted Sturgeon. I don't care if he's not fashionable.
4) "The Cornucopia" a collection of recepts and cooking lore from 1390 to 1899.
5) "The Phantom Toolbooth" and "Three Men in a Boat" come in as a tie for fifth.
My spouse could no doubt add to this list should he read it, he probably remembers which books I agonized over and which ones I tossed without a qualm better than I do. I generally block out traumatic experiences.
6. Tag 5 people!
Sorry, Joze, I don't pass on forwards, I am the end station of all chain letters, electronic and otherwise, and I don't tag people for memes.
Though I would pay large sums to find out sue's answers to these, and actually also my spouse's answers -- but he doesn't even have a blog.
1. Estimate the total number of books you've owned in your life.
Oh. My. God. Do I have to count the collections of Golden Age Science Fiction and of Erotica which I sold after I got out of college and just before law school respectively because I needed the money? The dirty books made me more money than the science fiction, it must be said.
Do I count jointly owned books? All my children's books were jointly owned and all my books now are jointly owned. My children now own a fair number of my children's books, come to think of it.
And all the books I trashed reading them in the tub and writing in the margins? And the ones I bought and then returned to the Book Nook a week later to trade in on new ones? Do I count the ones I never read or started and tossed?
The stripped copies I used to get by the box from my pals who worked at the bookstore?
In my life? Oh dear.
I have been alive and literate, let's see, on the order of 2 thousand weeks as I figure it.
I want to say a million, since the number of books I have owned seems to me to rival the number of stars in the sky or grains of sand on a beach. Why I have not had to build a whole new house to accommodate them I have no idea. I surely could build a house out of them, should the End Times be closer than we had thought.
But realistically, I would call it about 20,000.
2. What's the last book you bought?
For myself? Or for anybody?
For myself, I recently bought "Q" which is pretty good but slow going; and "The Birth of Venus" which is a nice historical fiction bit of fluff. I also stole a biography of Rasputin from my father when we were in the States.
I bought "The Visitor" and "The DaVinci Code" for Dearly Beloved, the latter because he wanted to read it in English.
Okay, I did not buy "the DaVinci Code", I stole it from my mother. Er, I mean, I mistakenly put it in my suitcase and was aghast to discover it when we got back to Holland, yeah.
Well, I am bringing it back in July, geez.
3. What's the last book you read?
I am now rereading the Rasputin biography and last night I reread the Mists of Avalon becasue I was not up to any nonfiction. I do a lot of rereading these days, as my options for English language books are limited.
4. List 5 books that mean a lot to you.
They all do, I am a reading Don Juan, eternally in love with whatever I am reading at the moment. (Well, as long as we are on the subject of erotica, I suppose a reading Juliette, as I am not seducer but seduced....).
I enjoy reading the side of a box of cornflakes as much as the most scintillating prose, though the cornflakes rarely give me anything to talk about afterwards so I rarely mention them. But I found out which ones I really wanted to keep when we moved and I had to get rid of a lot of stuff. That's when you find out what you cannot live without -- when you have to pay to have it shipped halfway around the world.
1) My OED. I am still limping along with the two volume condensed and will someday own the edition which takes up an entire bookshelf -- is it 12 volumes now? But I love my OED and its little magnifying glass. I also love my Yale Shakespeare especially since I got it at the Book Nook for nearly nothing.
2) My copy of "The Moon is a Harsh Mistress". I love Uncle Bob, even if he only has three male characters and two female characters which he recycles endlessly. And the female characters all have huge tits (except one) and are eternally beautiful and have IQs over 200 and are improbably even tempered and submissive. I don't care, I love Uncle Bob anyway.
3) All my Ted Sturgeon. I don't care if he's not fashionable.
4) "The Cornucopia" a collection of recepts and cooking lore from 1390 to 1899.
5) "The Phantom Toolbooth" and "Three Men in a Boat" come in as a tie for fifth.
My spouse could no doubt add to this list should he read it, he probably remembers which books I agonized over and which ones I tossed without a qualm better than I do. I generally block out traumatic experiences.
6. Tag 5 people!
Sorry, Joze, I don't pass on forwards, I am the end station of all chain letters, electronic and otherwise, and I don't tag people for memes.
Though I would pay large sums to find out sue's answers to these, and actually also my spouse's answers -- but he doesn't even have a blog.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
School Pictures
Below you will see Daan's school pictures. There is also a class photo but I cannot get it to scan properly -- imagine a regular preschol class photo with all the kids and teachers, don't they all look pretty much the same? Daan is very clearly saying "cheese" in that one.
In any event, let me know which ones you want and in what sizes, those of you related to me, I have to order by Monday.
In any event, let me know which ones you want and in what sizes, those of you related to me, I have to order by Monday.
Saturday, June 04, 2005
Bilingual Marginalia
I now know why Douwe often answers the question "How are you?" with the name of the person speaking to him; and often answers "How was school?" with the name of his teacher that day or the names of the children who were there or sometimes the names of the children who were not there.
It has bothered me a bit now and again, it seems so odd for him to answer a completely different question. I have chalked it up to the language disorder. Well, It was a problem with auditory processing, I think. But, um, somebody else's.
In Dutch, the question is, "Hoe is het met jouw?" (How is it with you) or "Hoe was het op school?". (How was it at school). The first word is pronounced "Hoo".
Did you get it yet? I didn't, for a very long time.
Today he was pretending to talk on the phone with his father. I asked him in Dutch "How is it with your father?"
He said in english, "No one, but he wants me to come,".
So I asked him what he meant. He said, "No on eis with papa, so he wants me,".
Ah. He hears the English word which is pronounced the same way when we ask that question: "Who is it with Papa?". "Who is it with you?" "Who was it at school?"
How did I miss that for so long?
It has bothered me a bit now and again, it seems so odd for him to answer a completely different question. I have chalked it up to the language disorder. Well, It was a problem with auditory processing, I think. But, um, somebody else's.
In Dutch, the question is, "Hoe is het met jouw?" (How is it with you) or "Hoe was het op school?". (How was it at school). The first word is pronounced "Hoo".
Did you get it yet? I didn't, for a very long time.
Today he was pretending to talk on the phone with his father. I asked him in Dutch "How is it with your father?"
He said in english, "No one, but he wants me to come,".
So I asked him what he meant. He said, "No on eis with papa, so he wants me,".
Ah. He hears the English word which is pronounced the same way when we ask that question: "Who is it with Papa?". "Who is it with you?" "Who was it at school?"
How did I miss that for so long?
Friday, June 03, 2005
Another one?
No, mom, I have a ten year IUD for which choice (which I made at the age of 37) I was the butt of much teasing amoung my friends, remember? It was an easy choice, actually. Considering both my mother and my grandmother had more than 2 decade age spreads between their oldest and youngest children; and that neither started having children especially early; and that neither had the benefit of fertility drugs, well. I can do simple math. So, no, not another child.
Would you believe another bird?
You know, my spouse does not even look like St. Francis af Assisi and probably could not tell a statue of St. Francis from a Bologna sandwich. Though he can almost certainly find either Assisi or Bologna on a map as he is very good at geography He is also apparently very good at finding lost little birds.
It isn't fair; he wasn't the little boy who brought home various waifs and strays and nursed them back to health. That was Ernest. Dearly Beloved was the little boy with the dead lizard in his pocket because he stuck it in there and forgot all about it until washday. So what's up with the birds?
The latest addition to our little pensione is a very young jackdaw which is, for those of you in the South, very much like a crow or a magpie. It is in short the anti Noah (Noah being the dove he nursed back to health and released last year). A jackdaw is black with a grey head. They eat, it turns out, primarily meat. It certainly has a beak for eating meat -- one of the websites I was looking at warns that they like shiny things and that you should be careful about your eyes for this reason, woo hoo.
The children have named it Grijsje, which means little grey in Dutch. Well, it's the grey equivalent of naming it Blackie -- Grey-ey doesn't flow right off the fingers or the tongue, does it? Paul wants to call it Loki for the Norse god of chaos. He is aware, as it is sort of a hobby of his, that it was actually Odin who had the two ravens. But he points out that they had really impronounceable names, even for a Dutch person. Apparently Mozart had a pet jackdaw and Paul will settle for naming his bird whatever Mozart named his, if I can find out what it was.
The bird has expressed no opinion.
Did I mention upon whom it has devolved to find out what this thing is supposed to eat and feed it and clean its cage and make sure it is regularly handled and cared for and so on?
Grumble, grumble. I after all have nothing else I need to do.
Would you believe another bird?
You know, my spouse does not even look like St. Francis af Assisi and probably could not tell a statue of St. Francis from a Bologna sandwich. Though he can almost certainly find either Assisi or Bologna on a map as he is very good at geography He is also apparently very good at finding lost little birds.
It isn't fair; he wasn't the little boy who brought home various waifs and strays and nursed them back to health. That was Ernest. Dearly Beloved was the little boy with the dead lizard in his pocket because he stuck it in there and forgot all about it until washday. So what's up with the birds?
The latest addition to our little pensione is a very young jackdaw which is, for those of you in the South, very much like a crow or a magpie. It is in short the anti Noah (Noah being the dove he nursed back to health and released last year). A jackdaw is black with a grey head. They eat, it turns out, primarily meat. It certainly has a beak for eating meat -- one of the websites I was looking at warns that they like shiny things and that you should be careful about your eyes for this reason, woo hoo.
The children have named it Grijsje, which means little grey in Dutch. Well, it's the grey equivalent of naming it Blackie -- Grey-ey doesn't flow right off the fingers or the tongue, does it? Paul wants to call it Loki for the Norse god of chaos. He is aware, as it is sort of a hobby of his, that it was actually Odin who had the two ravens. But he points out that they had really impronounceable names, even for a Dutch person. Apparently Mozart had a pet jackdaw and Paul will settle for naming his bird whatever Mozart named his, if I can find out what it was.
The bird has expressed no opinion.
Did I mention upon whom it has devolved to find out what this thing is supposed to eat and feed it and clean its cage and make sure it is regularly handled and cared for and so on?
Grumble, grumble. I after all have nothing else I need to do.
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Busseldag
Today is Bussel-day. Didn't you see it in your calendar?
The Bussel, you see, is the name of a community theater here in town. And Douwe's school is putting on its annual school play. Douwe's class, it appears, will be playing the kabouters, which are gnomes. They are to sing a little song, which Douwe has practiced so often that Daan knows it, too. They are apparently to tumble around at the feet of some other people at some point, as he has been practicing that, also.
Beyond what he does at home, I have no real idea what the play is about or what the kids are supposed to do as this has not been vouchsafed to the parents. We are to be surprised it seems. He is supposed to wear blue jeans, which annoys him very much as kabouters do not wear blue jeans. I have been instructed to put him in the blue jeans over lunch; his teacher has apparently been made aware of his annoyance. Unhappily, I have no idea why the kabouters have to wear blue jeans so I canot explain it. This will make costuming more difficult.
Oh, and after that they will apparently go offstage and be attacked by a large dragon which Douwe will try to fend off long enough for them all to get into the hot air balloon which will evidently be waiting and they will all fly away. But he is not at all sure that he will be able to manage it and it is possible the dragon will eat one or two of them. (Yes, I do think he made that part up, actually.)
Given the imagery of his imaginings, I do hope that this play does not feature a certain dragon slayer's terrified bolting from the stage. We shall see.
The Bussel, you see, is the name of a community theater here in town. And Douwe's school is putting on its annual school play. Douwe's class, it appears, will be playing the kabouters, which are gnomes. They are to sing a little song, which Douwe has practiced so often that Daan knows it, too. They are apparently to tumble around at the feet of some other people at some point, as he has been practicing that, also.
Beyond what he does at home, I have no real idea what the play is about or what the kids are supposed to do as this has not been vouchsafed to the parents. We are to be surprised it seems. He is supposed to wear blue jeans, which annoys him very much as kabouters do not wear blue jeans. I have been instructed to put him in the blue jeans over lunch; his teacher has apparently been made aware of his annoyance. Unhappily, I have no idea why the kabouters have to wear blue jeans so I canot explain it. This will make costuming more difficult.
Oh, and after that they will apparently go offstage and be attacked by a large dragon which Douwe will try to fend off long enough for them all to get into the hot air balloon which will evidently be waiting and they will all fly away. But he is not at all sure that he will be able to manage it and it is possible the dragon will eat one or two of them. (Yes, I do think he made that part up, actually.)
Given the imagery of his imaginings, I do hope that this play does not feature a certain dragon slayer's terrified bolting from the stage. We shall see.
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