How is it that humankind has managed to produce the 'lego city' series, and yet cannot manage to provide the world with safe, clean energy & food for all??
Clearly, our best minds are being somewhat distracted!
(And, while we're at the 'random' pondering - how did it actually come to pass that so bloody much of the 'lego city' series has come to live with us?? I swear, next year it's all gonna be about goats and chickens for families in East Timor, Rewanda and the like... YES! Sanctimonious WILL be my new middle name ... )
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
Brilliant Things About Germany no.224
The "Seasonal Fridge Extension".
Aka "The Balcony".
Aka "The Window Sill". Or (if you have one) - "The Garden".
Whatever it is called, storing your fresh 6 kilo Turkey, chilling the bubbly, beer and cream torte - (and other Christmas treats) never seems to be a problem.
Aka "The Balcony".
Aka "The Window Sill". Or (if you have one) - "The Garden".
Whatever it is called, storing your fresh 6 kilo Turkey, chilling the bubbly, beer and cream torte - (and other Christmas treats) never seems to be a problem.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
"Deck the halls with -NO! NO! Olli !!!!!!"
Last week was the Caspi-Man's 4th birthweekend. (Yes, LONG birthWEEKEND. Why have just a birthDAY when international timezones, and local superstitious customs, mean the festivities can last soooo much longer?)
THE CASPI-MAN IS NOW FOUR and had no less than 3 parties to celebrate it.
I should note here (for the official record) that only one of these parties was his actual 'birthday party'. (Saturday). The second was instigated by the in-laws (Sunday), and the third (Monday) was necessitated by the Kindergarten. (Needless to say I was expected to cater for them all...)
So, with the Caspi-Man's birthday well and truly celebrated - we were free this weekend to prepare in earnest for the upcoming Christmas Season.
"How about we go get a Christmas tree this afternoon?" said the Ger-Man over breakfast yesterday morning.
"Endlich!!! [Finally!!!!]" exclaimed the Caspi-Man in a manner that implied we'd been purposely depriving him of some essential life element, "Unseren Weihnachtsbaum!!!!! [Our Christmas Tree!!!!]"
And, so yesterday, we found our Christmas Tree.
And this afternoon, it was decorated.
And tonight, someone thinks it's Christmas. (And that someone is definitely NOT either Herr & Frau Grumpypants downstairs!)
THE CASPI-MAN IS NOW FOUR and had no less than 3 parties to celebrate it.
I should note here (for the official record) that only one of these parties was his actual 'birthday party'. (Saturday). The second was instigated by the in-laws (Sunday), and the third (Monday) was necessitated by the Kindergarten. (Needless to say I was expected to cater for them all...)
So, with the Caspi-Man's birthday well and truly celebrated - we were free this weekend to prepare in earnest for the upcoming Christmas Season.
"How about we go get a Christmas tree this afternoon?" said the Ger-Man over breakfast yesterday morning.
"Endlich!!! [Finally!!!!]" exclaimed the Caspi-Man in a manner that implied we'd been purposely depriving him of some essential life element, "Unseren Weihnachtsbaum!!!!! [Our Christmas Tree!!!!]"
And, so yesterday, we found our Christmas Tree.
And this afternoon, it was decorated.
And tonight, someone thinks it's Christmas. (And that someone is definitely NOT either Herr & Frau Grumpypants downstairs!)
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
a high of "0 degrees" today...
and they predicted snow on ALL the weather reports.
What we got, though, was 0 degree rain...
How is that possible?????
What we got, though, was 0 degree rain...
How is that possible?????
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
The Ger-Man said -
that this picture of Olli, that the Caspi-Man and I had photoshopped to adorn this year's Christmas Cards, could be viewed as "undignified"...
To which, I said:
To which, I said:
Sorry, firends and family. But sometimes these things have to be done...
Bad rhymes...
Sleet, Sleet - go away,
And don't bother coming back another day!
(But, Snow - you're welcome to come stay... at least for the next three weeks or so.)
And don't bother coming back another day!
(But, Snow - you're welcome to come stay... at least for the next three weeks or so.)
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
I reckon
someone at the Kindergarten is gonna stage an intervention soon...
'cause (thanks to my English lessons) - there are now about 20 young German kiddies fluent with Rolf Harris's Six White Boomers. (Well, fluent with the chorus. And they like to sing it very loudly.)
I'm such a cultural ambassador! ;-)
'cause (thanks to my English lessons) - there are now about 20 young German kiddies fluent with Rolf Harris's Six White Boomers. (Well, fluent with the chorus. And they like to sing it very loudly.)
I'm such a cultural ambassador! ;-)
Saturday, November 29, 2008
The Christmas Markets -
in Düsseldorf have officially opened.
And, I'm beginning to sense a recurrent theme:
Christmas 2006:
Christmas 2008:
(Caspi-Man on blue/yellow tractor)
And, I'm beginning to sense a recurrent theme:
Christmas 2006:
(Caspi-Man on green tractor)
Christmas 2007:
(Caspi-Man on blue/yellow tractor)
Christmas 2008:
(Caspi-Man on blue/yellow tractor)
To be fair - he also likes the fire-engines and the little areoplane. And, I must admit I quite like the Glühwein stand next door.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
No emails today!
Last week, my mother, (hi mum!) forwarded an email to almost everyone on her contact list that said:
No Emails Today!
Something has crashed on my computer.
And the mouse is missing!
Cute, huh?
But this week, this has started to happen:
No Emails Today!
Something has crashed on my computer.
And the mouse is missing!
Cute, huh?
But this week, this has started to happen:
The mouse is still there, but you wouldn't believe the google searches that have occurred, and my opening page is now a "syntax error"....
Monday, November 17, 2008
Brilliant Things About Germany No.223
The KINO.
As in Cinema.
Or, more precisely - the cinema candy bar.
Not because it's more reasonably priced than those in other countries (because, just like other countries- it most definitely is not!), nor because it has such a great range of snacks (although the nachos with guacamole or cheesey dip rate a mention), but rather- BECAUSE YOU CAN BUY GROG to drink while you watch the movie.
Even when it's an afternoon viewing of Der Mund Bär.
Or should that be - especially when it's an afternoon viewing of Der Mund Bär!
As in Cinema.
Or, more precisely - the cinema candy bar.
Not because it's more reasonably priced than those in other countries (because, just like other countries- it most definitely is not!), nor because it has such a great range of snacks (although the nachos with guacamole or cheesey dip rate a mention), but rather- BECAUSE YOU CAN BUY GROG to drink while you watch the movie.
Even when it's an afternoon viewing of Der Mund Bär.
Or should that be - especially when it's an afternoon viewing of Der Mund Bär!
Monday, November 10, 2008
Peace, Love and Tolerence...???
When, Brother-In-Law Barry told me this morning, that there'd been a biff-up between monks in a sacred christian church in Jerusalem - I didn't believe him.
"Nah," he said, "It's true. It really happened. Look it up on You Tube."
So I did.
And ... here's what the BBC News had to say:
"Israeli police have had to restore order at one of Christianity's holiest sites after a mass brawl broke out between monks in Jerusalem's Old City. Fighting erupted between Greek Orthodox and Armenian monks at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the traditional site of Christ's crucifixion. Two monks from each side were detained as dozens of worshippers traded kicks and punches at the shrine, said police. Trouble flared as Armenians prepared to mark the annual Feast of the Cross."
"Nah," he said, "It's true. It really happened. Look it up on You Tube."
So I did.
And ... here's what the BBC News had to say:
"Israeli police have had to restore order at one of Christianity's holiest sites after a mass brawl broke out between monks in Jerusalem's Old City. Fighting erupted between Greek Orthodox and Armenian monks at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the traditional site of Christ's crucifixion. Two monks from each side were detained as dozens of worshippers traded kicks and punches at the shrine, said police. Trouble flared as Armenians prepared to mark the annual Feast of the Cross."
Saturday, November 8, 2008
To the 'brav'- 'Sinne' is a 'Gift'...
Beware, English speakers, of thinking there are short-cuts to understanding Deutsch.
Sure, many words have similarities. Common roots and all that. Butter, Milch, Tee & Kaffee can be deduced quite easily (even first thing in the morning- over breakfast).
Infact, many, many words ARE the same- just pronounced with a German accent.
But then, there are words like the above. Words that can lull you into thinking it's possible to glean their meaning- based on perceived English counterparts.
"Brav"- can be translated as 'well behaved', even 'demure'.
"Sinne" - are the senses. As in, to brought to your senses.
& "Gift" - is poison. As in toxic.
All of which, is quite different from English...
Sure, many words have similarities. Common roots and all that. Butter, Milch, Tee & Kaffee can be deduced quite easily (even first thing in the morning- over breakfast).
Infact, many, many words ARE the same- just pronounced with a German accent.
But then, there are words like the above. Words that can lull you into thinking it's possible to glean their meaning- based on perceived English counterparts.
"Brav"- can be translated as 'well behaved', even 'demure'.
"Sinne" - are the senses. As in, to brought to your senses.
& "Gift" - is poison. As in toxic.
All of which, is quite different from English...
Monday, November 3, 2008
A few BIG FAT LIES about parenthood:
Some would call them "myths" - but that would be an euphemism. They are lies!
BIG FAT LIE #1: Breast-feeding helps you to lose weight.
Perhaps this is true for some, but after enduring the Caspi-Man spending the last 4 months of his gestation compacting my stomach (in a manner I can only describe as akin to gastric stapling) I was thrilled, after the birth - to be able to finally fill it again. And, fill it, I did. (Well, I could eat prawns again. And soft cheeses. And smoked salmon. And ... etc.) Suffice to say I put on only 7 kgs during the pregnancy, lost a bit after the birth, and retained at least 9 until the Caspi-Man was weaned a mere 18 or so months later. (See mum, I told you it'd happen before he went to school!)
BIG FAT LIE # 2: They don't stray out of sight of their parents during the toddler years. It is in an inbuilt survival instinct retained from cave-man times.
Quite a few of the child-rearing books I'd read mentioned this. (& The Caspi-Man, goddammit, didn't read those books. How much easier life would be if only he had.) While it is true that he hasn't been eaten by a saber-tooth tiger (or at least to the best of my knowledge he hasn't) there are many other things that potentially could have happened while he was ignoring (or rather blatantly violating) this so called 'natural' instinct.
But,perhaps the BIGGEST FATTEST LIE of them all, is that, once they're toilet- trained - you get your handbag back.
LIE. LIE. LIE!
By this stage they're able to make their own insertions into your bag. Often without your knowledge...
Spoken as one who has just cleaned out her bag and discovered she's been carting around, not one, not even two, but FIVE little cars, one tractor, random bits of lego, a mouse of Olli's, two books, THREE ROCKS (!?!? Yes, people, garden variety ROCKS! And we don't even have a garden!), and roughly one small handful of dried cat food...
(nb: this is by no means an exhaustive list...)
BIG FAT LIE #1: Breast-feeding helps you to lose weight.
Perhaps this is true for some, but after enduring the Caspi-Man spending the last 4 months of his gestation compacting my stomach (in a manner I can only describe as akin to gastric stapling) I was thrilled, after the birth - to be able to finally fill it again. And, fill it, I did. (Well, I could eat prawns again. And soft cheeses. And smoked salmon. And ... etc.) Suffice to say I put on only 7 kgs during the pregnancy, lost a bit after the birth, and retained at least 9 until the Caspi-Man was weaned a mere 18 or so months later. (See mum, I told you it'd happen before he went to school!)
BIG FAT LIE # 2: They don't stray out of sight of their parents during the toddler years. It is in an inbuilt survival instinct retained from cave-man times.
Quite a few of the child-rearing books I'd read mentioned this. (& The Caspi-Man, goddammit, didn't read those books. How much easier life would be if only he had.) While it is true that he hasn't been eaten by a saber-tooth tiger (or at least to the best of my knowledge he hasn't) there are many other things that potentially could have happened while he was ignoring (or rather blatantly violating) this so called 'natural' instinct.
But,perhaps the BIGGEST FATTEST LIE of them all, is that, once they're toilet- trained - you get your handbag back.
LIE. LIE. LIE!
By this stage they're able to make their own insertions into your bag. Often without your knowledge...
Spoken as one who has just cleaned out her bag and discovered she's been carting around, not one, not even two, but FIVE little cars, one tractor, random bits of lego, a mouse of Olli's, two books, THREE ROCKS (!?!? Yes, people, garden variety ROCKS! And we don't even have a garden!), and roughly one small handful of dried cat food...
(nb: this is by no means an exhaustive list...)
Pub sign
This came to me via an email from The Godfather (aka Uncle G in Sydney) and even though it riled me (bloody sexist stereotypes, perhaps?) - it also made me laugh...
.
Sign reads:
* Husband Creche*
Is he getting under your feet?
Why not leave him here while you SHOP!!
Free creche, just pay for his drinks!
Monday, October 27, 2008
No crying over spilt milk, please.
The Caspi-Man wanted "pink milk" as a "bedtime drink".
(It's a Charlie & Lola thing.)
A bit of ice-cream & red food colouring and he was sorted.
But then he wanted Olli to have pink milk too.
He knows that regular milk is not good for Olli. I stood firm - I WOULD NOT be colouring cat milk for Olli. (Once certain lines are crossed - heaven knows where we'll end up.)
So the Caspi-Man decided that he'd share his...
When I told the Caspi-Man that he had to help clean up the mess - this wasn't really what I had in mind:
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Brilliant things about Germany No. 222
The Kindergarten.
Where your child DOES behave. And if it stays over lunch - it WILL use cutlery and chew with its mouth shut.
These things, alas, do not happen in the home... not even if you use threats, bribes, and/or positive role modeling. Attempts to create the same "peer" atmosphere by inviting 3-4 of the said child's friends over for a meal - also doesn't work. (You'll just have 4 times the farm-yard behaviour your own child likes to exhibit at the table.)
How on earth do the Kindergarten teachers manage it?
Where your child DOES behave. And if it stays over lunch - it WILL use cutlery and chew with its mouth shut.
These things, alas, do not happen in the home... not even if you use threats, bribes, and/or positive role modeling. Attempts to create the same "peer" atmosphere by inviting 3-4 of the said child's friends over for a meal - also doesn't work. (You'll just have 4 times the farm-yard behaviour your own child likes to exhibit at the table.)
How on earth do the Kindergarten teachers manage it?
A not so random thing I'm wondering...
Why is that I can drink black coffee first thing in the morning with no (discernable) side effects - but regular tea with milk on an empty stomach gives me the most horrific stomach spasms?
Monday, October 13, 2008
11pm Monday Night...
It's raining, it's pouring,
The Caspi-Man is snoring,
Olli the cat,
Is frollicking round the flat,
Unaware his bits are being snipped in the morning!
The Caspi-Man is snoring,
Olli the cat,
Is frollicking round the flat,
Unaware his bits are being snipped in the morning!
Cupcakes...
Last Friday was Miss H's birthday. So we made some cup-cakes to take to her party... the Caspi-Man laid claim to the elephant.
And, just because it seems in theme- here is a picture of some strawberry tarts we made during strawberry season (back in May):
Was gonna make some quip about a knave of tarts - but that would be pointless as everyone can see - these tarts are not being taken by a knave - they're being defended by a knight.
food styling by Caspi-Man using his own props.
And, just because it seems in theme- here is a picture of some strawberry tarts we made during strawberry season (back in May):
Was gonna make some quip about a knave of tarts - but that would be pointless as everyone can see - these tarts are not being taken by a knave - they're being defended by a knight.
food styling by Caspi-Man using his own props.
bad photography - as always - by me.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Do not attempt...
to colour match a replacement against your own (nearly empty, Australian bought) lipstick in a German department store.
You WILL be apprehended on leaving the premises by gruff, humourless store detectives and escorted (without words) to a grey and sombre room.
Police involvement can be averted if your preferred existing lipstick shade is proven to (sadly?) not exist in Deutschland...
You WILL be apprehended on leaving the premises by gruff, humourless store detectives and escorted (without words) to a grey and sombre room.
Police involvement can be averted if your preferred existing lipstick shade is proven to (sadly?) not exist in Deutschland...
Beware:
when trampling through Autumnal Forests of the Con Dog.
He comes traipsing up - all brown eyes, wagging tail, and full of doggy good will ... and you think he's being friendly and adorable.
But, really, it's all a ploy- he's just after your specially selected stick, (the one you were delighted to find and were using to assist walking up the slippery slopes, uncover conkers and chestnuts from below fallen leaves, and ward off attacks from small & large 'highway' men that lurk behind trees and randomly pounce as you walk past...)
With your stick now in his jaws - all pretense of friendliness will cease - and he will dart off into the distance - and his human companion's mumbled apologies will be meaningless when you fail to find another stick of appropriate length and weight to aide you in your continued journey...
He comes traipsing up - all brown eyes, wagging tail, and full of doggy good will ... and you think he's being friendly and adorable.
But, really, it's all a ploy- he's just after your specially selected stick, (the one you were delighted to find and were using to assist walking up the slippery slopes, uncover conkers and chestnuts from below fallen leaves, and ward off attacks from small & large 'highway' men that lurk behind trees and randomly pounce as you walk past...)
With your stick now in his jaws - all pretense of friendliness will cease - and he will dart off into the distance - and his human companion's mumbled apologies will be meaningless when you fail to find another stick of appropriate length and weight to aide you in your continued journey...
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Beyond Brittanica.
Ya gotta adore the internet! (I love a good understatement, don't you?) The reasons are, without doubt, incalculable. And as a parenting tool - it is a resource beyond compare .
And I'm not referring here to the countless sites devoted to advice, support, and creative ideas for effective discipline, (although I've heard rumours those places can be rather informative), but rather the aspect of how it has freed modern parents from age old cliches like:
"You'll just have to take my word for it",
"Go ask your mother," or
"Look it up in the encyclopedia."
(Not that the last of these was ever heard in my childhood home - we never owned a set - but I can attest to the others... the first in particular. Used a lot that one was...)
No, rather than resorting to the pulling of rank, or admissions of ignorance - parents of the new millennia can say:
"Hang on a sec... I'll show you!"
Recently, the Ger-Man was trying to dress the Caspi-Man, who was, on that day, refusing to wear anything BUT his pint sized Socceroos jersey. (And I must tell you, yellow is soooo not his colour. A shame really - as the Ger-Man proclaimed quite early on that if he excels at fussball he'd be playing for Australia, and if swimming was his sport he'd be doing it for Deutschland. I was initially confused by this - until he clarified his position with "more chance of getting in the national team". Just wonder who he'll be representing then if he excels at brick laying?)
The jersey happened to be soaking in the laundry - covered in colourful evidence of a previous day's eating, drinking, playing, and perhaps even accident of a "it's no big deal, it can happen to anyone," (but why the hell is it happening to you this often?) nature.
"How about this one?" asked the Ger-Man, holding up a black t-shirt adorned with a white feather on its chest that had been sent from NZ. "It's also a football shirt!"
The Caspi-Man was skeptical to say the least. But the Ger-Man was determined. He regaled the Caspi-Man with tales of rugby (who knew he knew of such things?), the glory of the All Blacks, and with impressions of the Haka. Attempts at the Haka even. I was dispatched (to the internet, of course) to obtain the true text. (And might I tell you - there are few things that are quite as amusing on a Saturday morning as a full blooded German Ger-Man attempting to teach his bewildered, half dressed 3 year old son the Haka.)
It was the internet, though, that I ultimately credit with winning the t-shirt a high profile place on the Caspi-Man's preferred-wearing rotation. And, specifically - this brilliant 'You-Tube' clip of
The All Blacks vs Tonga
(One of the few teams that can do something other than look bemused in the face of the Haka.)
Parents of previous generations could never have dreamt of this option!
Then again, parents of previous generations probably didn't have to try to explain to other shocked parents in the local Duesseldorf park, why their half German, half Australian son has just run up to the faces of their alarmed off-spring, with arms up, eyes bulging, toungue out, while shouting random words that sound a bit like profanities...
And I'm not referring here to the countless sites devoted to advice, support, and creative ideas for effective discipline, (although I've heard rumours those places can be rather informative), but rather the aspect of how it has freed modern parents from age old cliches like:
"You'll just have to take my word for it",
"Go ask your mother," or
"Look it up in the encyclopedia."
(Not that the last of these was ever heard in my childhood home - we never owned a set - but I can attest to the others... the first in particular. Used a lot that one was...)
No, rather than resorting to the pulling of rank, or admissions of ignorance - parents of the new millennia can say:
"Hang on a sec... I'll show you!"
Recently, the Ger-Man was trying to dress the Caspi-Man, who was, on that day, refusing to wear anything BUT his pint sized Socceroos jersey. (And I must tell you, yellow is soooo not his colour. A shame really - as the Ger-Man proclaimed quite early on that if he excels at fussball he'd be playing for Australia, and if swimming was his sport he'd be doing it for Deutschland. I was initially confused by this - until he clarified his position with "more chance of getting in the national team". Just wonder who he'll be representing then if he excels at brick laying?)
The jersey happened to be soaking in the laundry - covered in colourful evidence of a previous day's eating, drinking, playing, and perhaps even accident of a "it's no big deal, it can happen to anyone," (but why the hell is it happening to you this often?) nature.
"How about this one?" asked the Ger-Man, holding up a black t-shirt adorned with a white feather on its chest that had been sent from NZ. "It's also a football shirt!"
The Caspi-Man was skeptical to say the least. But the Ger-Man was determined. He regaled the Caspi-Man with tales of rugby (who knew he knew of such things?), the glory of the All Blacks, and with impressions of the Haka. Attempts at the Haka even. I was dispatched (to the internet, of course) to obtain the true text. (And might I tell you - there are few things that are quite as amusing on a Saturday morning as a full blooded German Ger-Man attempting to teach his bewildered, half dressed 3 year old son the Haka.)
It was the internet, though, that I ultimately credit with winning the t-shirt a high profile place on the Caspi-Man's preferred-wearing rotation. And, specifically - this brilliant 'You-Tube' clip of
The All Blacks vs Tonga
(One of the few teams that can do something other than look bemused in the face of the Haka.)
Parents of previous generations could never have dreamt of this option!
Then again, parents of previous generations probably didn't have to try to explain to other shocked parents in the local Duesseldorf park, why their half German, half Australian son has just run up to the faces of their alarmed off-spring, with arms up, eyes bulging, toungue out, while shouting random words that sound a bit like profanities...
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Evidence of cultural differences No. 353.
The Birthday...
Today the Caspi-Man is staying home from Kindergarten. He will be tomorrow too. Although the Caspi-Man feels fine - the doctor says that he's contagious and should be quarantined for at least 3 days. Given that Friday is a public holiday (Re-unification day) this effectively means the Caspi-Man is not back at Kindergarten til next Monday. The Caspi-Man is sorely disappointed - as today it is his favourite teacher's birthday and she was bringing in treats for morning tea.
Birthdays are celebrated somewhat differently here in Germany - as an Australian friend of mine learnt in her first year here. Keen to assimilate - and potentially extend her social network - she decided to invite a bunch of (10, or so) "workmates" to a nearby restaurant the following day to help celebrate her first birthday in Deutschland. She was anticipating the Aussie deal, you know - where everyone comes along, springs for their own meal and usually throws in a bit extra so that the guests collectively contribute enough to cover the birthday girl/boy's evening. She was thrilled when everyone accepted her invitation (so much popularity in such a short time!) that is, until she got home that night and told her (German) hubby.
"You do know," her told her, "That you'll be footing the bill for everyone."
Er.... no... She didn't know.
Yep, here in Deutschland, if it's your birthday - it's your shout. (But guests are obligated to bring pressies, and sing "Zum Geburtstag viel Glueck" and often also the english "Happy Birthday" song - but sans the Hip hip horays.) There is no culture of BYO (either in restaurants or privately) and so, for fiscal reasons, many birthdays go widely uncelebrated.
There is also a superstitious taboo about celebrating early. If your birthday falls on a Monday - there's no option to celebrate it on the preceding weekend. It's considered to be an extremely bad omen. And, what if some horrid misfortune (ie. death) befalls you BEFORE your actual birthday, and you've celebrated something that hasn't actually happened?
("Well," my mother said on hearing this, "At least you've had a good party before signing out.")
In the Caspi-Man's kindergarten - the parents are expected to provide morning tea for the entire group on their child's birthday (or on the following Monday if it has fallen on the weekend). I was quite touched that the teachers also observe this custom. (Although I don't really believe that Frau Lehrerin's mama & papa will be there - doing the catering...)
Monday, September 29, 2008
Not liking this Monday business...
No dancing today, as it is Autumn Break, which meant the Caspi-Man and I were on time (a touch early even!) for a long standing regular activity that occurs on the first and third Monday of each month. (One that has recently seen us rushing in late in a fluster of apologetic distrubtiveness.) So, I was feeling quite pleased about our punctuality. That is, until the moment we walked through the door and I realised that today was actually the fifth Monday of the month...
And then I had to drop 3 DVDs back at the rental store. I was pleased that I'd a) remembered they were due back on the actual day, and b) feeling relieved that the Caspi-Man had agreed for "his" pirate movie to be returned without my having to resort to bribes or threats. This feeling of accomplishment was negated the moment we walked through the rental shop door and I realised that although I had the cover, I'd left the Dvd in the player at home.
Am Blaming Monday...
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Kunst
The Caspi-Man likes to draw. And paint. And cut. And stick.
And to be honest, so do I. And we really don't do these things often enough. But, one thing we do seem to be doing quite often is drawing on the computer. Or, rather drawing with the computer. (We're not allowed to draw ON the computer... although this doesn't stop one of us trying...)
Portrait of Olli
Caspi-Man & PJ Mel September 2008
Sunday, September 21, 2008
No matter how you dress it up:
The Caspi-Man is becoming quite creative in his methods of avoiding things he doesn't want do.
Such as, say, getting dressed...
Every single morning it is a mammoth struggle to get him out of his pajamas and into his clothes. (Yep. No doubt about it - he is my child. Who knew such things were genetic?)
He very rarely actively participates in the dressing process. Usually he darts around the room, scorns the available options, distracts himself with whatever may be handy (toys, books, most often Olli). Anything to avoid putting his day clothes on. He often asks if he can go to kindergarten in his pjs.
A few days ago, The Ger-Man was attempting the "dressing challenge" when I overheard this exchange:
Frustrated Ger-Man: "WHY CASPI-MAN? WHY? Why won't you just put your clothes on?"
Belligerent Caspi-Man: "Because I can't!"
"And just why can't you?"
"Because I can't hear you!"
"Huh? Why can't you hear me?"
"Because my ears are too small."
(Trying not to laugh) "Sorry, Caspi-Man. That's one problem you definitely don't have."
Thursday, September 18, 2008
I can't quite believe it -
Last week- I happened to be in a village on the outskirts of Duesseldorf, and as I was walking to the train station - I spied A COAT in the window of a boutique.
Looks cute - I thought.
I went inside.
I asked to try it on.
They had my size.
It fitted!
My heart pumped a little faster.
I looked at the price.
It wasn't heart stopping.
(!?)
I rang the Ger-Man. "You won't believe what I've just found!" I said. I think I heard him fall off his seat when I told him. After recovering from the shock - he asked how much it was. He chuckled. "But try telling them," he said, "That your husband said you can only spend...."and quoted an amount 50 Euros cheaper than its ticketed price. (He was only jesting.)
But I relayed the message on to the saleswomen. They laughed. (Men, eh?) They pulled out the calculator. And then they said OK.
(!?!?!!)
I left the store with THE COAT discounted by 50 Euros.
So after 5 years and 3 continents my epic quest has come to an end...
WHAT AM I GONNA DO FOR A HOBBY NOW?
I found some pictures of the coat on the net to share with you ... but I really must say that they don't do it full justice. It is not made for a tall skinny model type. It needs hips to bring out its front pleats into a tulip shape... am loving the bell sleeves!
Monday, September 8, 2008
Shallow Shoe Rant.
After reading about last week's mis-matched shoe adventure - my darlink sister felt the need to leave a comment about the neglected state of my shoes. (The left, in particular, I suspect. It's a victim of too many trips to the sand and gravel covered playground. Oh, ok, and also infrequent cleaning/ polishing! I can share that the right one looks just as scruffy.)
I can understand that scuffed shoes irk her, as I have a shoe peeve list of my own. And for no reason other than wanton, shallow pettiness - I've decided to share it here:
1. Winter boots teamed with light summer dresses. (It may be someone's idea of 'fashion' -but that doesn't stop it looking WRONG.) Especially gruesome if the boots are of the cowboy variety.
2. Open toed shoes with stockings. Extra demerit points if the pantyhose have a reinforced toe. I'm amazed by how many, otherwise polished looking women I've seen do this. It is on par with sandals worn with socks.
3. Socks with sandals. 'Nuff said.
4. White shoes with black opaques. (See point 1).
Mind you, all this from one who can't ensure her own shoes even match.
I can understand that scuffed shoes irk her, as I have a shoe peeve list of my own. And for no reason other than wanton, shallow pettiness - I've decided to share it here:
1. Winter boots teamed with light summer dresses. (It may be someone's idea of 'fashion' -but that doesn't stop it looking WRONG.) Especially gruesome if the boots are of the cowboy variety.
2. Open toed shoes with stockings. Extra demerit points if the pantyhose have a reinforced toe. I'm amazed by how many, otherwise polished looking women I've seen do this. It is on par with sandals worn with socks.
3. Socks with sandals. 'Nuff said.
4. White shoes with black opaques. (See point 1).
Mind you, all this from one who can't ensure her own shoes even match.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Constructions...
The Ger-Man and I had a rare night out this evening. (The Schwierig-mutter kindly swapped her regular Friday visit to today and stayed to babysit the Caspi-Man for us.)
So, what, you might ask, romantic and/or hedonistic pleasures were on our agenda? Did we go for a candlelit dinner at a Michelin starred restaurant? Or, maybe, did we have tickets to see the Madonna concert tonight at the Düsseldorf LTU Arena? To which I would have to reply - ahhh- um....no. (And if we did we probably wouldn't have been home by 10.15.)
We actually attended an invitation only, rather exclusive, fully catered, once-a-year event... the annual Eltern Abend (parent's evening) at the Caspi-Man's Kindergarten. (Oh the glamour!)
And the evening was not without its surprises. Apparently - the Kindergarten has secured nearly a million Euros to refurbish its building*. Work will commence next year. Architects have been commissioned. An on-site cafe, professional kitchen and community meeting rooms will be incorporated. The anticipated time line suggests the work will take only 3-4 months. (Yeah, right! As if!)
Meanwhile, the problem seems to be, what to do with the 45 children while the work is being done. Suggestions from the floor included a shipping container in the local park, farming them out to other kindergartens, or perhaps keeping them at home. (At home??? Really, Who Are These People?)
But mostly likely, they will be housed in one of the multitude of local office or shopping buildings left vacant due to the constructural ramifications of the Wehrhahn-Line.
Constructing times, indeed.
*it should be noted that the Kindergarten building also houses many baby and community groups in addition to just the Kindergarten.
So, what, you might ask, romantic and/or hedonistic pleasures were on our agenda? Did we go for a candlelit dinner at a Michelin starred restaurant? Or, maybe, did we have tickets to see the Madonna concert tonight at the Düsseldorf LTU Arena? To which I would have to reply - ahhh- um....no. (And if we did we probably wouldn't have been home by 10.15.)
We actually attended an invitation only, rather exclusive, fully catered, once-a-year event... the annual Eltern Abend (parent's evening) at the Caspi-Man's Kindergarten. (Oh the glamour!)
And the evening was not without its surprises. Apparently - the Kindergarten has secured nearly a million Euros to refurbish its building*. Work will commence next year. Architects have been commissioned. An on-site cafe, professional kitchen and community meeting rooms will be incorporated. The anticipated time line suggests the work will take only 3-4 months. (Yeah, right! As if!)
Meanwhile, the problem seems to be, what to do with the 45 children while the work is being done. Suggestions from the floor included a shipping container in the local park, farming them out to other kindergartens, or perhaps keeping them at home. (At home??? Really, Who Are These People?)
But mostly likely, they will be housed in one of the multitude of local office or shopping buildings left vacant due to the constructural ramifications of the Wehrhahn-Line.
Constructing times, indeed.
*it should be noted that the Kindergarten building also houses many baby and community groups in addition to just the Kindergarten.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
First Day of Autumn...
And, I've marked the occasion by having my hair dyed red at our local salon. Not the fire-engine red favoured in my mid-twenties - but a bold enough shade none the less. Now, let's see if the Ger-Man notices... ;)
Like most things I'm doing these days - this wasn't planned or scheduled (in fact, strictly speaking getting my hair done had no place at all on today's agenda) but none the less, it happened.
My days are relatively busy at present - a result of several projects with fast approaching (one could say bottlenecking) deadlines - and today, I'd planned to collect the Caspi-Man from Kindergarten and drag him along on a few urgent, project-related errands.
However, on picking him up, I realised HE desperately needed a haircut. In fact, strictly speaking he's needed one for awhile, but I'd sorta been hoping it would move past the "unkempt" stage and morph into some long, floppy "cool" style without any intervention on my behalf- but sadly that hadn't eventuated. He'd just begun to look neglected. So we made a quick detour and ducked into our local salon for what I'd anticipated would be a 10 minute trim.
Technically, it was a 10 minute trim. But, 5 minutes into it, the Caspi-Man's eyes grew heavy. At the 6 minute mark, his head begun to lull. By 7 minutes, I had to hold his head straight for the stylist, as the Caspi-Man had passed into deep slumber. (Jeeeze, I've only had that happen during scalp massages!) At 11 minutes, the cut was finished and we'd moved the Caspi-Man to the salon's couch where he was given a cushion for his head and clean towels as a blanket.
So, you see, I didn't really have a choice. And, if they'd actually had the fire-engine red of my distant youth in stock- I'd have had it.
Like most things I'm doing these days - this wasn't planned or scheduled (in fact, strictly speaking getting my hair done had no place at all on today's agenda) but none the less, it happened.
My days are relatively busy at present - a result of several projects with fast approaching (one could say bottlenecking) deadlines - and today, I'd planned to collect the Caspi-Man from Kindergarten and drag him along on a few urgent, project-related errands.
However, on picking him up, I realised HE desperately needed a haircut. In fact, strictly speaking he's needed one for awhile, but I'd sorta been hoping it would move past the "unkempt" stage and morph into some long, floppy "cool" style without any intervention on my behalf- but sadly that hadn't eventuated. He'd just begun to look neglected. So we made a quick detour and ducked into our local salon for what I'd anticipated would be a 10 minute trim.
Technically, it was a 10 minute trim. But, 5 minutes into it, the Caspi-Man's eyes grew heavy. At the 6 minute mark, his head begun to lull. By 7 minutes, I had to hold his head straight for the stylist, as the Caspi-Man had passed into deep slumber. (Jeeeze, I've only had that happen during scalp massages!) At 11 minutes, the cut was finished and we'd moved the Caspi-Man to the salon's couch where he was given a cushion for his head and clean towels as a blanket.
So, you see, I didn't really have a choice. And, if they'd actually had the fire-engine red of my distant youth in stock- I'd have had it.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Isn't this supposed to be one of the first signs of dementia?
Took the Caspi-Man to kindergarten,
chatted a while with the teacher,
gossiped with other mums,
went to bank,
post-office,
super-market and
pet food supplier,
dropped books back at the library and,
chatted with neighbour on the street for a while.
It wasn't till climbing the last flight of stairs to the front door that I realised I'd spent the whole morning running around in mis-matched shoes...
Am taking small comfort from the words of a wise friend: "it's not like one was a heeled sandal and the other a flat boot."
No, it's true, I'm not quite that far gone........ not yet at least!
chatted a while with the teacher,
gossiped with other mums,
went to bank,
post-office,
super-market and
pet food supplier,
dropped books back at the library and,
chatted with neighbour on the street for a while.
It wasn't till climbing the last flight of stairs to the front door that I realised I'd spent the whole morning running around in mis-matched shoes...
Am taking small comfort from the words of a wise friend: "it's not like one was a heeled sandal and the other a flat boot."
No, it's true, I'm not quite that far gone........ not yet at least!
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Smiles for Tuesday...
(There seems to be no end to the ways I find to waste time - especially when there are so very many things I should be doing...... sigh.)
Monday, August 25, 2008
Mondays are for dancing...
When the idea was first touted, (over afternoon tea in a cafe a few months ago), the Caspi-Man was extremely excited by the idea of doing a dance course with his young friend, Miss H.
Much to the amusement of the waiters (and patrons at nearby tables), he jumped up - grabbed Miss H by the hand and said:
"Yay! Miss H, we're gonna dance! Now, I'll be the man and you be the woman!"
And together they twirled around merrily...
So, now the course is underway.
The Caspi-Man dances on the way to the Tanzhaus.
And he dances on the way home.
(Infact - in an average week the Caspi-Man finds endless opportunities for a random dance.)
But for much of the class (and to spite the teacher's best efforts) he prefers to watch.
Much to the amusement of the waiters (and patrons at nearby tables), he jumped up - grabbed Miss H by the hand and said:
"Yay! Miss H, we're gonna dance! Now, I'll be the man and you be the woman!"
And together they twirled around merrily...
So, now the course is underway.
The Caspi-Man dances on the way to the Tanzhaus.
And he dances on the way home.
(Infact - in an average week the Caspi-Man finds endless opportunities for a random dance.)
But for much of the class (and to spite the teacher's best efforts) he prefers to watch.
Betchya can't guess which one is the Caspi-Man?!
weather moaning
What a chilly, damp, grey and miserable Monday morning (not helped by the Ger-Man gloating about the final Olympic medal tally - grrrrrr) ... it feels like Autumn and I'm still waiting for "Summer proper" to arrive.
I heard a report last week that said the whole world has experienced the coldest year in over a century. Across the planet there have been lower than average temperatures.
I shared this news with my Grandmother and rhetorically queried as to what had happened to global warming. My grandmother (who is way more informed than me) replied that we should no longer be referring to "global warming" but rather: "climate change".
Right, that's me told...
I heard a report last week that said the whole world has experienced the coldest year in over a century. Across the planet there have been lower than average temperatures.
I shared this news with my Grandmother and rhetorically queried as to what had happened to global warming. My grandmother (who is way more informed than me) replied that we should no longer be referring to "global warming" but rather: "climate change".
Right, that's me told...
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Timewaster...
Apparently, this is how geeks are choosing to send personal messages these days...
http://www.geogreeting.com/main.html
http://www.geogreeting.com/main.html
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
How to NOT get a good night's sleep.
I've been tired and crotchety today. And, it is (mostly) my own fault. I fear I'm the victim of an over-active imagination - and have at my finger tips - a whole web of information with which to feed it...
Last night, with the Ger-Man away with work, my over-active imagination went into over-drive.
The catalyst was our upstairs neighbour, who I had seen earlier yesterday, as I was heading out to pick the Caspi-Man up from Kindergarten. He whisked very quickly past me on the stairs -and continued on to the cellar carrying many bulging plastic bags and an uncharacteristically bright multi-coloured backpack.
Our upstairs neighbour, Herr Upstairs, is definitely a bit strange. I’d guess he is in his early forties, lives alone, and comes across as an unremarkable, conservative, suit-wearing business man. He is always polite (but never ‘friendly’) when we pass on the stairs. He always seems to be in a hurry. No-one seems to know anything much about him.
Herr Upstairs keeps very strange hours. He is often home during the day AND he seems to be nocturnal. Since he moved in – a series of the strangest noises have peppered our nights.
(Am sure Herr & Frau Grumpypants below are holding us responsible for EACH and EVERY sound that filters down to their level.)
For a while after he first moved in - I’d had him pegged as either a closet transvestite, or the purchaser of certain (um) “late night delivery services”, as we would often hear the click clack of high heels in the wee small hours. There are also bizarre scraping noises, knocks and loud thuds (that sound like serious furniture rearranging) which are seriously intriguing and frankly, unexplainable. (There's never any loud music, blaring television, or social noises.) He goes through periods where he likes to use a power drill late at night. Most often in the bathroom. Recently he has also taken up hammering. But the power drill is his favourite.
Ordinarily, this doesn't bother us too much, we're sound sleepers and, hey, if a bit of DIY in high heels at 2am floats your boat -and it's not waking the Caspi-Man - then who are we to spoil your fun?
But last night the scrapes, thuds and drill pulses, were, well, a bit scary really. And as one that has read more than her fair share of thriller novels ... well ...
So I decided to do a quick internet search- just to put my mind at ease- that there hadn't been a spate of people going missing lately that I may not have been aware of. (Certainly, I hadn't heard anything on the news and, no-one has been gossiping about it - but still.) I searched for "missing+people+duesseldorf" ... and ... discovered that Duesseldorf's already had a notorious serial killer! One Peter Kurtin, (1883-1931), who was known as the "Vampire of Duesseldorf". Apparently he started off by torturing and killing animals...
Mind, definitely NOT AT EASE now, - because at this point I remembered there actually IS a serial rabbit killer, (The Rabbit Ripper) on the loose around Dortmund (NOT FAR FROM HERE), and police suspect he/she could move on to humans ...
All of which did not make for a peaceful night's slumber.
Last night, with the Ger-Man away with work, my over-active imagination went into over-drive.
The catalyst was our upstairs neighbour, who I had seen earlier yesterday, as I was heading out to pick the Caspi-Man up from Kindergarten. He whisked very quickly past me on the stairs -and continued on to the cellar carrying many bulging plastic bags and an uncharacteristically bright multi-coloured backpack.
Our upstairs neighbour, Herr Upstairs, is definitely a bit strange. I’d guess he is in his early forties, lives alone, and comes across as an unremarkable, conservative, suit-wearing business man. He is always polite (but never ‘friendly’) when we pass on the stairs. He always seems to be in a hurry. No-one seems to know anything much about him.
Herr Upstairs keeps very strange hours. He is often home during the day AND he seems to be nocturnal. Since he moved in – a series of the strangest noises have peppered our nights.
(Am sure Herr & Frau Grumpypants below are holding us responsible for EACH and EVERY sound that filters down to their level.)
For a while after he first moved in - I’d had him pegged as either a closet transvestite, or the purchaser of certain (um) “late night delivery services”, as we would often hear the click clack of high heels in the wee small hours. There are also bizarre scraping noises, knocks and loud thuds (that sound like serious furniture rearranging) which are seriously intriguing and frankly, unexplainable. (There's never any loud music, blaring television, or social noises.) He goes through periods where he likes to use a power drill late at night. Most often in the bathroom. Recently he has also taken up hammering. But the power drill is his favourite.
Ordinarily, this doesn't bother us too much, we're sound sleepers and, hey, if a bit of DIY in high heels at 2am floats your boat -and it's not waking the Caspi-Man - then who are we to spoil your fun?
But last night the scrapes, thuds and drill pulses, were, well, a bit scary really. And as one that has read more than her fair share of thriller novels ... well ...
So I decided to do a quick internet search- just to put my mind at ease- that there hadn't been a spate of people going missing lately that I may not have been aware of. (Certainly, I hadn't heard anything on the news and, no-one has been gossiping about it - but still.) I searched for "missing+people+duesseldorf" ... and ... discovered that Duesseldorf's already had a notorious serial killer! One Peter Kurtin, (1883-1931), who was known as the "Vampire of Duesseldorf". Apparently he started off by torturing and killing animals...
Mind, definitely NOT AT EASE now, - because at this point I remembered there actually IS a serial rabbit killer, (The Rabbit Ripper) on the loose around Dortmund (NOT FAR FROM HERE), and police suspect he/she could move on to humans ...
All of which did not make for a peaceful night's slumber.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Evidence of cultural differences No. 352
Last night- just before sleep- the topic of the Ger-Man and my pillow-talk turned to "Whistle-blowing". As late night conversations sometimes do.
(Romantic creatures, aren't we? Nothing like the exposure of a bit of corporate corruption or organisational misconduct to spice things up in the bedroom...)
During our discussion I was stunned to learn that in Deutschland - a "whistle-blower" is generally referred to as a "Nestbeschmutzer", which translates as a "nest-fouler" or "nest-dirtier".
Which, it must be said- has a slightly different connotation, no?
(Romantic creatures, aren't we? Nothing like the exposure of a bit of corporate corruption or organisational misconduct to spice things up in the bedroom...)
During our discussion I was stunned to learn that in Deutschland - a "whistle-blower" is generally referred to as a "Nestbeschmutzer", which translates as a "nest-fouler" or "nest-dirtier".
Which, it must be said- has a slightly different connotation, no?
Park Play & Art
Eh-Gads! We've had A VERY BUSY week - and to top it off - the Kindergarten changed their Sommerfest from Saturday (as planned) to a Friday (yesterday) afternoon.
Cue many parents hastily rearranging work schedules to spend the afternoon BBQing on the banks of the Rhein. (It's a tough life being a parent!)
The afternoon ended with an un-programmed Spiel - How may small children can fit in a single tree?
I think the official answer is 23. (Reminded me of the goats we saw in Morocco doing a similar thing.)
Afterwards, strolling home through the Hoff-Garten, we stumbled upon many pieces of "installation art". Projects (I think) by local students.
This path (with one stone step elevated using 3 carrots) was my favourite:
Cue many parents hastily rearranging work schedules to spend the afternoon BBQing on the banks of the Rhein. (It's a tough life being a parent!)
The afternoon ended with an un-programmed Spiel - How may small children can fit in a single tree?
I think the official answer is 23. (Reminded me of the goats we saw in Morocco doing a similar thing.)
Afterwards, strolling home through the Hoff-Garten, we stumbled upon many pieces of "installation art". Projects (I think) by local students.
This path (with one stone step elevated using 3 carrots) was my favourite:
"Hasen Falle".
"Rabbit Trap".
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Trainer of Jedi Masters in the making?
Yesterday, we were out for lunch with a group of friends, and at one point the discussion turned to how the Caspi-Man was going with his two "spraches".
"Not bad," I said, and it's true. Luckily, both his languages seem to be developing at a similar rate, and while most conversations contain a bit of Denglish, he does seem to speak primarily in one or the other (depending on context).
"But", I continued, "He seems to be structuring his english sentances in a german gramatical format... & he often likes to whack the verb on the end."
"Ahhh," said a friend. "So he's speaking like Yoda then."
"?................... YES! YES HE IS!"
And they're probably the same hieght.
Not sure though- that the Caspi-Man is (as yet) at one with The Force, and am quite sure, that Yoda doesn't demand ice-cream and lollies for breakfast.
"Not bad," I said, and it's true. Luckily, both his languages seem to be developing at a similar rate, and while most conversations contain a bit of Denglish, he does seem to speak primarily in one or the other (depending on context).
"But", I continued, "He seems to be structuring his english sentances in a german gramatical format... & he often likes to whack the verb on the end."
"Ahhh," said a friend. "So he's speaking like Yoda then."
"?................... YES! YES HE IS!"
And they're probably the same hieght.
Not sure though- that the Caspi-Man is (as yet) at one with The Force, and am quite sure, that Yoda doesn't demand ice-cream and lollies for breakfast.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Wagers:
I spent this afternoon in front of the television - mostly sobbing through- the absolutely, awe-inspiring spectacle that was the Olympic opening ceremony. As is my four yearly wont.
(Yes, well... I'll admit I'm prone to being easily emotionally moved. Often. Even a well crafted TV commercial can sometimes do it. It can be very embarrassing. I'm also one of those people you sometimes see slinking out of a movie theatre at 11pm wearing sunglasses.)
Beijing certainly surpassed all high expectations. And a rather clever move I felt, incorporating the 30 trillion or so fireworks. Not just an extravagant, beautiful, culturally- warranted, breath-taking display - but also a lingering excuse for dubious air quality for the next 16 days or so...
[And mum, before you write it- country of permanent future residence is not going on the table... :) ]
(Yes, well... I'll admit I'm prone to being easily emotionally moved. Often. Even a well crafted TV commercial can sometimes do it. It can be very embarrassing. I'm also one of those people you sometimes see slinking out of a movie theatre at 11pm wearing sunglasses.)
Beijing certainly surpassed all high expectations. And a rather clever move I felt, incorporating the 30 trillion or so fireworks. Not just an extravagant, beautiful, culturally- warranted, breath-taking display - but also a lingering excuse for dubious air quality for the next 16 days or so...
The Ger-Man and I have once again laid down the gauntlet - to bet on which of our respective lands will be higher in the final medal tally. As is our four yearly wont.
(The Ger-Man would like to recoup his four yearly losses by making this a bi-annual event - factoring in the winter Olympics - but until Australia can guarantee a few more Steven Bradburys - I'm not buying into that...)
Now, we just have to decide what the 2008 stakes will be. Any suggestions?[And mum, before you write it- country of permanent future residence is not going on the table... :) ]
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Take care of the Ps and the Cs take care of themselves! (?)
Many years ago (well, about 3 & half years ago really) we learnt that it really is not, in the long run, cheaper to buy budget-brand disposable nappies. (We found they were often inadequate in doing the job they're designed for.)
Just recently, I've learnt it's the same when it comes to budget-brand kitty litter.
There are some things that are just false-economy.
Just recently, I've learnt it's the same when it comes to budget-brand kitty litter.
There are some things that are just false-economy.
Monday, August 4, 2008
A random question that the Caspi-Man's obviously been pondering:
The Caspi-Man and I were just sitting having dinner together, after a longer than average "looong" day (and that's an euphemism) , when, out of the blue, he piped up with:
"Mama, where do people come from?"
"What do you mean, Caspi-Man, by 'where do people come from'?"
(Ok, I know that's a cop-out -but it really has been a long day...)
"I mean, where do people COME FROM? Do you buy them in a shop?"
"Um, no. Hold on a sec Caspi-man, Mummy just needs to go top up her drink...."
(AAArrgghhh....why does he seem to only ask these things when the Ger-Man's not here? Aren't we both suppose to be scaling these parenting mountains together? And godammit - haven't a dozen responses to that question just popped into my mind -none of which are appropriate to share with the Caspi-Man! )
Wine now in hand, (personally, after the day we've just had - I'm feeling proud it's not the gin or vodka - but I suppose I'm saving those for when the truly challenging questions come....):
"Well, Caspi-Man... people make people."
Of course, inevitably, this begins a long question and answer session, detailing which specific people were made by exactly which specific people in our immediate family/friend/acquaintance network - and then - I managed to craftily distract him with early evening Kinder-TV ( just before he thought of asking HOW people make people).
"Mama, where do people come from?"
"What do you mean, Caspi-Man, by 'where do people come from'?"
(Ok, I know that's a cop-out -but it really has been a long day...)
"I mean, where do people COME FROM? Do you buy them in a shop?"
"Um, no. Hold on a sec Caspi-man, Mummy just needs to go top up her drink...."
(AAArrgghhh....why does he seem to only ask these things when the Ger-Man's not here? Aren't we both suppose to be scaling these parenting mountains together? And godammit - haven't a dozen responses to that question just popped into my mind -none of which are appropriate to share with the Caspi-Man! )
Wine now in hand, (personally, after the day we've just had - I'm feeling proud it's not the gin or vodka - but I suppose I'm saving those for when the truly challenging questions come....):
"Well, Caspi-Man... people make people."
Of course, inevitably, this begins a long question and answer session, detailing which specific people were made by exactly which specific people in our immediate family/friend/acquaintance network - and then - I managed to craftily distract him with early evening Kinder-TV ( just before he thought of asking HOW people make people).
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Rub-a-dub-dub-there's-a-cat-in-the-tub...
Seriously, I'm beginning to doubt Olli's sanity. What self-respecting cat would, by choice, hang around the bathroom while two young boys take a bath?
Needless to say - things (and fur) eventually got soaked. But even that wasn't enough to deter Olli...
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Genealogy and a sense of national identity.
I love the term "Antipodean" because it seems to best cover my sense of national identity. ..
I was actually born in New Zealand. Am 6th Generation Kiwi- infact- on my father's father's side. (My grandmother was of French stock.) I suspect I may only be 5th generation - but dad insists that it's 6th and it has been a long time since I've seen a family tree to be able to correct him. Not that this stops me, of course. Constantly correcting my father was a vital component of my up-bringing.
But mum is definitely Australian- and we moved to Oz when I was 9. After a few years of copping heaps at school because I spoke funny, I learnt to assimilate, and identify as Australian. (Even now, I, apparently still speak 'funny', with most strangers guessing I'm South African.) I'm definately more likely to back Australia in international sporting events.
My mother's family is actually of Greek origin, coming from a tiny, idyllic island -that is geographically located at the very bottom point of Europe - on the Turkish Coast. (The locals actually do their shopping on the Turkish mainland - and many also own land and homes there.) Because of its location, the island has been a strategic land-hold in pretty much every war - and has been occupied at one point or another by just about every European warring nation you can think of. (My Great-great grandmother was shot & killed, aged 90 something, while defending the church containing all the island's woman folk when -I think- the Germans invaded during WW1.) . Even these days, the Greeks and Turks use the island's waters as a posturing point for their respective war ships, while all the locals get on with business as usual.
So while I'm technically 'Antipodean' - the Caspi-Man has no Grandma or Nana, but rather a 'Yia Yia' in Sydney (& here in Germany, an 'Oma'). And of course, a 'Grandad', who these days - lives once more where he was bred- in New Zealand.
All in all, like many people, I'm a bit genealogically confused. (Yes, I am a mutt.) Therefore, I'm glad to hear that there may be plans afoot to help simplify matters for me- view here for the a proposed Australian strategy to invade new Zealand (and, afterwards -maybe- create one Antipodean territory ?)
But, really, what side would I be on????
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Sunday
* I blew up our hairdryer. Not intentionally, mind. I was using it in the regular way -when it made a strange pop and then a whirring noise - so I immediately turned it off - and then it started spewing dense black fog that left a lingering, toxic, chemical aroma in the bathroom.
* There is a 2 foot long x 1 and a half foot tall, multi-coloured, pyramid-shaped, lego structure, inconveniently located on my bedroom floor. (It is apparently housing -not 1 but 2 helicopters. Not everyone has 2 helicopters in their bedroom - I'll have you know.) I have been told - in the strictest of terms - that it MUST NOT be moved. Or even touched. Not even to relocate it to a more practical place.
* I discovered (eeeuuwww) that the newest member of our household has taken to drinking from the toilet bowl. (I repeat - eeeuuwww!) I swear he gets fresh water twice a day. But it seems fresh water is not what he's after... EEEUWWW. I just hope that he is the only one doing this.
* I also just discovered how to make text move back and forth on my blog! And, how annoying to read is that?
Saturday, July 26, 2008
And what is Art?
A family portrait?
...
Or, could it be Olli?
Or, perhap the Caspi-Man & Olli? 
OK, maybe these aren't really "Art" as such, but still .... this site that allows you to put your pictures in a gallery is lots of fun!
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Sleep Delay Tatic No. 374
Bath, then:
3 books + chat-time + several extensions of "lie with me a bit longer" time (extending to 2 full listens of the Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra's Lullaby CD vol.2) ...
-"Now, Caspi-Man. It really is very, very late. You must go to sleep now."
-"But ... but the sun is still up!"
-"Yes, but it really is actually very late. You know that the sun stays up much later in summer."
"But why? Why does the sun stay up longer?"
Uuuuuuggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh... (!)
"When you're a bit older - you will learn all about that at school. Now, sweet dreams Caspi-Man."
"...but... but if you were Caspi-Man ... and you were 3 [holding up 3 fingers] and I was the mama... I'd tell you why."
Sssssssssssshhhhhheeeeeeeezzzzzzz ... (!)
So not only was sleep-time delayed- but he also got to play with balls as well.
alternative uses for bed socks - # 17 & 18
3 books + chat-time + several extensions of "lie with me a bit longer" time (extending to 2 full listens of the Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra's Lullaby CD vol.2) ...
-"Now, Caspi-Man. It really is very, very late. You must go to sleep now."
-"But ... but the sun is still up!"
-"Yes, but it really is actually very late. You know that the sun stays up much later in summer."
"But why? Why does the sun stay up longer?"
Uuuuuuggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh... (!)
"When you're a bit older - you will learn all about that at school. Now, sweet dreams Caspi-Man."
"...but... but if you were Caspi-Man ... and you were 3 [holding up 3 fingers] and I was the mama... I'd tell you why."
Sssssssssssshhhhhheeeeeeeezzzzzzz ... (!)
So not only was sleep-time delayed- but he also got to play with balls as well.
alternative uses for bed socks - # 17 & 18Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Most Livable Cities...
I was chatting on the phone today with a Brisvagas-based friend and he brought it to my attention that the results are out for the 2008 Mercer's Quality of Living Survey.
This list is often used to determine the world's "Most Livable Cities".
( According to Wikipedia:
"Mercer's Quality of Life Survey is released annually, comparing 215 cities based on 39 criteria. Important criteria are safety, education, hygiene, recreation, political-economic stability and public transportation. The importance of the list lies primarily in that internationally operating companies use it to determine where they will open offices or plants and how much they pay the employees.")
I seem to recall that in the mid-90's - Brisbane used to rate quite highly on this list (and was usually the highest ranked Australian city). Not any more. This year it has fallen to number 34 (down from 31 last year) and has been surpassed by Sydney (10), Melbourne (17), Perth (21), and Adelaide (29).
This year, Dusseldorf has made it to place 6, and is the highest ranked German city.*
Now, just have to figure out how I can go about claiming some credit for this turn of events... ;)
*But really, haven't these Mercer people heard about the bloody Wehrhahn Line?
This list is often used to determine the world's "Most Livable Cities".
( According to Wikipedia:
"Mercer's Quality of Life Survey is released annually, comparing 215 cities based on 39 criteria. Important criteria are safety, education, hygiene, recreation, political-economic stability and public transportation. The importance of the list lies primarily in that internationally operating companies use it to determine where they will open offices or plants and how much they pay the employees.")
I seem to recall that in the mid-90's - Brisbane used to rate quite highly on this list (and was usually the highest ranked Australian city). Not any more. This year it has fallen to number 34 (down from 31 last year) and has been surpassed by Sydney (10), Melbourne (17), Perth (21), and Adelaide (29).
This year, Dusseldorf has made it to place 6, and is the highest ranked German city.*
Now, just have to figure out how I can go about claiming some credit for this turn of events... ;)
*But really, haven't these Mercer people heard about the bloody Wehrhahn Line?
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Rainy Sunday antics...
Sometimes, on rainy Sunday mornings, the Ger-Man and the Caspi-Man like to spend quality hours constructing the "ultimate" in railway systems.
This can be both complex and time intensive, as they have quite a collection of bridges, tunnels, and alarmed crossings that HAVE to be incorporated into the overall design. The systems have been known to encompass our entire living room, and are often not allowed to be dismantled until photographic evidence of their constructual brilliance has been obtained.
Um, yeah, must be a boy thing...
This morning, we didn't have plans, it was raining, and so Olli was introduced to this ritual. And, to be honest, he didn't need much encouragement. Little engines, propelling themselves along the track? Well, what cat wouldn't be intrigued?
Then, either the Caspi-man or the Ger-Man (and I can only but speculate who) decided that Olli's involvement could be enhanced (for their joint enjoyment) by placing some dried cat food into one of the train wagons... and then I was called to witness the promised entertainment.
I watched as Olli stalked the train... I saw Olli's ears point forward towards the prey... then, Olli's nose twitched as he sniffed the scent... I swear I saw him raise an eyebrow ... and I'm sure I glimpsed a light bulb flash on above his head... and then his muscles tensed ... preparing... and with great power he leaped .... high ...up... and then ... sprung OVER the train.... and then at full speed - he ran into the kitchen -to his food bowl - where he then proceeded to gorge himself...
And, in doing so - proved himself, by far, to be the cleverest member of our household.
This can be both complex and time intensive, as they have quite a collection of bridges, tunnels, and alarmed crossings that HAVE to be incorporated into the overall design. The systems have been known to encompass our entire living room, and are often not allowed to be dismantled until photographic evidence of their constructual brilliance has been obtained.
Um, yeah, must be a boy thing...
This morning, we didn't have plans, it was raining, and so Olli was introduced to this ritual. And, to be honest, he didn't need much encouragement. Little engines, propelling themselves along the track? Well, what cat wouldn't be intrigued?
Then, either the Caspi-man or the Ger-Man (and I can only but speculate who) decided that Olli's involvement could be enhanced (for their joint enjoyment) by placing some dried cat food into one of the train wagons... and then I was called to witness the promised entertainment.
I watched as Olli stalked the train... I saw Olli's ears point forward towards the prey... then, Olli's nose twitched as he sniffed the scent... I swear I saw him raise an eyebrow ... and I'm sure I glimpsed a light bulb flash on above his head... and then his muscles tensed ... preparing... and with great power he leaped .... high ...up... and then ... sprung OVER the train.... and then at full speed - he ran into the kitchen -to his food bowl - where he then proceeded to gorge himself...
And, in doing so - proved himself, by far, to be the cleverest member of our household.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Admission:
I am a compulsive reader of messages on people's T-shirts. (& it annoys me when the messages are long and the people walk past too quickly for me to finish reading them.)
Notable recently sightings:
"Every time you masturbate - God kills a kitten."- Ok, this one wasn't actually on someone's chest but was hanging in a shop, &, I did actually buy it as a gift for a dear friend who appreciates warped humour.
And seen @ the Kermis last weekend - blazoned on the (somewhat ample) chest of a pretty young thing (she really could not have been more than 17 years old!) was the proclamation:
"You can't be the first - but you can be next!"
(I can't help but wonder if she understood English. And if she did - what her parents thought about it...)
Notable recently sightings:
"I'm not really useless - I can be used as a bad example."- Altstadt
"Every time you masturbate - God kills a kitten."- Ok, this one wasn't actually on someone's chest but was hanging in a shop, &, I did actually buy it as a gift for a dear friend who appreciates warped humour.
And seen @ the Kermis last weekend - blazoned on the (somewhat ample) chest of a pretty young thing (she really could not have been more than 17 years old!) was the proclamation:
"You can't be the first - but you can be next!"
(I can't help but wonder if she understood English. And if she did - what her parents thought about it...)
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
It is never ever a good idea to peak too soon
in your disapproval of something/somebody.
It leaves you with absolutely nowhere to go if the situation happens to get worse.
This is one lesson I've learnt vicariously. (Strange for me -as I tend to usually learn most effectively through making my own mistakes...)
__________________________________________________________
This lesson is courtesy of our downstairs neighbours - who I shall call Herr & Frau Grumpy-Pants.
Herr & Frau Grumpy-Pants moved in directly under us when the Caspi-Man was 6 months old. Our relationship started out cordially enough - in that reserved, stilted fashion that Germanic neighbours are famed for - and after a few months of polite "Guten Tag"s in the stairwell, Frau Grumpy-Pants initiated a conversation.
The chat went something along the lines of: "What a lovely baby. We do really, really like children. We have 3 ourselves. And we have 5 grandchildren." (Interestingly enough - to this day none of the 3 "children" nor their off-spring have ever been sighted on the premises.)
As the Caspi-Man began to crawl, an afternoon coffee was scheduled. Flowers were exchanged. Requests that we lay thick carpet over the fake wood floor were imparted. Hmmmm...
As the Caspi-Man began to toddle, these requests were repeated. And concessions were made. Toys designed to aide walking were rationed and many gifts were relegated to "decorative" status. (Including: the Fischer Price rolling balls, the beautiful Haba solid wood building blocks, the pull along "Buzzy bee" sent from NZ, and countless others.)
Our landlord, in the early days, made a few token visits to share Herr & Frau Grumpy-Pants' desire for us to lay thick shag pile throughout. He passed on this message in an empathetic, apologetic manner and with a weary, defeated look in his eye that led me to believe that we were far from the only matter that the Grumpy-Pants' had been bringing to his attention.
However, compromises were again made and runner carpets were purchased.
Things deteriorated after returning from a 6 week trip downunder with a jet-lagged toddler. The Caspi-Man is, overall, an unbelievably good sleeper - and in his infancy we were fortunate to experience less than a handful of disturbed nights. But for several days - 3 am CET is well and truly morning - for a toddler set to Antipodean time. Not mollified by 6 weeks silence from above - the Grumpy-Pants took to airing their grievances in open letters posted in our building's communal entrance. This was rather heartening - as we soon learnt how popular the Caspi-Man was with the rest of the "Haus"hold, who tut-tutted their disapproval on the stairwell at the strongly worded public notices.
Then followed a number of increasingly unpleasant encounters- too many and too petty- to chronical here.
About 18 months ago, the situation took a dire turn, when the Caspi-Man fell ill in the wee small hours with a 39.8 degree temperature. He was inconsolable, in pain, and howling. The Grumpy-Pants chose to bang on their ceiling in protest (a move which actually woke our beloved Monika who lives directly below them). Outraged beyond belief, I did what any self-respecting mother would and dug out my highest heels and tap-danced my indignation above their bed.
After that, all pretense of neighbourly politeness ceased completely, and we became "invisible" in the stair-well. (It is quite heart wrenching to have to explain to a 3 year-old to not take it personally when his cheerful "Guten Morgan"s are so blatantly ignored.) Never before (at least to the best of my knowledge), have I been so openly despised.
And then came Olli...
Olli, the 4 month old kitten, who has in the past fortnight decided that midnight to 2 am is his preferred 'active' play-time. The hours in which he will leap and jump - chasing mice (both toy and imaginary), when he will stalk and lunge (often from great heights), the time to frolic and drag around the Ger-Man's shoes by the laces, and during which he has (at least 5 times- very loudly) sent my bedside lamp crashing dramatically to the floor.
Oh yeah... Herr & Frau Grumpy-Pants peaked way, WAY TOO SOON....
It leaves you with absolutely nowhere to go if the situation happens to get worse.
This is one lesson I've learnt vicariously. (Strange for me -as I tend to usually learn most effectively through making my own mistakes...)
__________________________________________________________
This lesson is courtesy of our downstairs neighbours - who I shall call Herr & Frau Grumpy-Pants.
Herr & Frau Grumpy-Pants moved in directly under us when the Caspi-Man was 6 months old. Our relationship started out cordially enough - in that reserved, stilted fashion that Germanic neighbours are famed for - and after a few months of polite "Guten Tag"s in the stairwell, Frau Grumpy-Pants initiated a conversation.
The chat went something along the lines of: "What a lovely baby. We do really, really like children. We have 3 ourselves. And we have 5 grandchildren." (Interestingly enough - to this day none of the 3 "children" nor their off-spring have ever been sighted on the premises.)
As the Caspi-Man began to crawl, an afternoon coffee was scheduled. Flowers were exchanged. Requests that we lay thick carpet over the fake wood floor were imparted. Hmmmm...
As the Caspi-Man began to toddle, these requests were repeated. And concessions were made. Toys designed to aide walking were rationed and many gifts were relegated to "decorative" status. (Including: the Fischer Price rolling balls, the beautiful Haba solid wood building blocks, the pull along "Buzzy bee" sent from NZ, and countless others.)
Our landlord, in the early days, made a few token visits to share Herr & Frau Grumpy-Pants' desire for us to lay thick shag pile throughout. He passed on this message in an empathetic, apologetic manner and with a weary, defeated look in his eye that led me to believe that we were far from the only matter that the Grumpy-Pants' had been bringing to his attention.
However, compromises were again made and runner carpets were purchased.
Things deteriorated after returning from a 6 week trip downunder with a jet-lagged toddler. The Caspi-Man is, overall, an unbelievably good sleeper - and in his infancy we were fortunate to experience less than a handful of disturbed nights. But for several days - 3 am CET is well and truly morning - for a toddler set to Antipodean time. Not mollified by 6 weeks silence from above - the Grumpy-Pants took to airing their grievances in open letters posted in our building's communal entrance. This was rather heartening - as we soon learnt how popular the Caspi-Man was with the rest of the "Haus"hold, who tut-tutted their disapproval on the stairwell at the strongly worded public notices.
Then followed a number of increasingly unpleasant encounters- too many and too petty- to chronical here.
About 18 months ago, the situation took a dire turn, when the Caspi-Man fell ill in the wee small hours with a 39.8 degree temperature. He was inconsolable, in pain, and howling. The Grumpy-Pants chose to bang on their ceiling in protest (a move which actually woke our beloved Monika who lives directly below them). Outraged beyond belief, I did what any self-respecting mother would and dug out my highest heels and tap-danced my indignation above their bed.
After that, all pretense of neighbourly politeness ceased completely, and we became "invisible" in the stair-well. (It is quite heart wrenching to have to explain to a 3 year-old to not take it personally when his cheerful "Guten Morgan"s are so blatantly ignored.) Never before (at least to the best of my knowledge), have I been so openly despised.
And then came Olli...
Olli, the 4 month old kitten, who has in the past fortnight decided that midnight to 2 am is his preferred 'active' play-time. The hours in which he will leap and jump - chasing mice (both toy and imaginary), when he will stalk and lunge (often from great heights), the time to frolic and drag around the Ger-Man's shoes by the laces, and during which he has (at least 5 times- very loudly) sent my bedside lamp crashing dramatically to the floor.
Oh yeah... Herr & Frau Grumpy-Pants peaked way, WAY TOO SOON....
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Brilliant things about Germany no.221.
The abundance of Summer festivals in all their incarnations. There is not a weekend that goes by without some public celebration to be attended.
There are shooting festivals (not many guns - but plenty of traditional costumes and beer drinking), street festivals (lots of music and beer drinking), book festivals (books and beer drinking), cultural festivals (this weekend French in honour of Bastille Day- only a bit of beer drinking - but lots of French wine!) and, here in Duesseldorf for the next fortnight it's also the Kirmes am Rhein - which is basically just an enormous side show alley (plenty of rides and yep- you guessed it - beer drinking!).
The flip-side of these festivals is their notable absence in the winter months. November boasts St Martin's Day, December has Christmas, but then it is pretty much a public-celebration wasteland through to Karneval...
There are shooting festivals (not many guns - but plenty of traditional costumes and beer drinking), street festivals (lots of music and beer drinking), book festivals (books and beer drinking), cultural festivals (this weekend French in honour of Bastille Day- only a bit of beer drinking - but lots of French wine!) and, here in Duesseldorf for the next fortnight it's also the Kirmes am Rhein - which is basically just an enormous side show alley (plenty of rides and yep- you guessed it - beer drinking!).
The flip-side of these festivals is their notable absence in the winter months. November boasts St Martin's Day, December has Christmas, but then it is pretty much a public-celebration wasteland through to Karneval...
Friday, July 11, 2008
Children's books for the new millenia...
Perhaps these would be good for my Wednesday afternoon English sessions at the Caspi-Man's Kindergarten?
Or perhaps not...
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
I wanna dance with Matt.
If you happen to have 4 minutes and 29 seconds to spare - I urge you to click on this link - and press play to watch this video. (It has been featured on quite a number of websites over the last week or so...)
It's by a guy called Matt Harding and I can honestly say that it is the single most beautiful and uplifting thing I've ever seen on the internet.
(I watched it smiling - with tears streaming down my face. More than once.... The Caspi-Man loves it too.)
Brisbane is featured. As is Sydney, Cologne, Auckland, - and far, far too many other places to mention. And the music is lovely.
I defy you to watch it and not feel a greater sense of hope for humanity!
It's by a guy called Matt Harding and I can honestly say that it is the single most beautiful and uplifting thing I've ever seen on the internet.
(I watched it smiling - with tears streaming down my face. More than once.... The Caspi-Man loves it too.)
Brisbane is featured. As is Sydney, Cologne, Auckland, - and far, far too many other places to mention. And the music is lovely.
I defy you to watch it and not feel a greater sense of hope for humanity!
Monday, July 7, 2008
For the Negative.
My child can now say "no" in no less than 7 languages.
I guess part of me should be proud. Should be - but isn't. I'd actually prefer it if "No" wasn't really part of his vocabulary at all. Or, even better, was replaced by "Of course, Mummy." or "Yes, mummy." or "I'd love to, mummy." or even "I'll do it straight away, mummy."
Blame can be probably laid at the (admittedly still small) feet of his Posse. You see, pretty much all of the Caspi-Man's close friends seem to be bi-lingual. (And they are all - without exception -talented in saying "No!" to their parents.) Amongst the languages he hears frequently are: Polish, French, Persian, Portuguese, Chinese, and of course German and English. And so it transpires that he can now say "NO!" in every bloody one of them.
Over the past week or so, though, the Caspi-Man's use of the word "No!" (in all its incarnations) has taken a new and disturbingly dictatorial turn. He has appointed himself as Olli's primary disciplinarian.
We've only - so far - two rules for Olli: 1) He is not allowed on the table, and 2) he is not allowed to scratch the furniture. (We've made him special wall-mounted "scratching pictures" for this purpose.)
Unfortunately, both hopping on the table and scratching the couch, seem to be activities that Olli enjoys - so he is finding himself subjected to the Caspi-Man's self-appointed authority with alarming frequency.
While being a wee bit disturbed by my son's aptitude for chastisement (transference issues perhaps?) - I have also been more than a tad amused to witness - that the Caspi-Man is gravitating towards the exclusive use of the German "NEIN!" for his Olli-disciplining-purposes.
It appears it is evident, even to one so young, that no other language sounds quite as authoritative. (Point of fact:- even my non-German speaking family all say "Nein!" when the Caspi-Man is doing something he shouldn't be. And, an Antipodean friend, who visited us for 3 weeks way back when the Caspi-Man was still a baby, returned to Australia fluent in just 2 German phrases: "Ich liebe es" [gleaned from the MacDonald's commercials on TV and used to tell the locals how he was enjoying just about everything - from the beer to the ice-hockey] and "Nein! Nicht in dem Mund, Caspi-Man!")
I guess part of me should be proud. Should be - but isn't. I'd actually prefer it if "No" wasn't really part of his vocabulary at all. Or, even better, was replaced by "Of course, Mummy." or "Yes, mummy." or "I'd love to, mummy." or even "I'll do it straight away, mummy."
Blame can be probably laid at the (admittedly still small) feet of his Posse. You see, pretty much all of the Caspi-Man's close friends seem to be bi-lingual. (And they are all - without exception -talented in saying "No!" to their parents.) Amongst the languages he hears frequently are: Polish, French, Persian, Portuguese, Chinese, and of course German and English. And so it transpires that he can now say "NO!" in every bloody one of them.
Over the past week or so, though, the Caspi-Man's use of the word "No!" (in all its incarnations) has taken a new and disturbingly dictatorial turn. He has appointed himself as Olli's primary disciplinarian.
We've only - so far - two rules for Olli: 1) He is not allowed on the table, and 2) he is not allowed to scratch the furniture. (We've made him special wall-mounted "scratching pictures" for this purpose.)
Unfortunately, both hopping on the table and scratching the couch, seem to be activities that Olli enjoys - so he is finding himself subjected to the Caspi-Man's self-appointed authority with alarming frequency.
While being a wee bit disturbed by my son's aptitude for chastisement (transference issues perhaps?) - I have also been more than a tad amused to witness - that the Caspi-Man is gravitating towards the exclusive use of the German "NEIN!" for his Olli-disciplining-purposes.
It appears it is evident, even to one so young, that no other language sounds quite as authoritative. (Point of fact:- even my non-German speaking family all say "Nein!" when the Caspi-Man is doing something he shouldn't be. And, an Antipodean friend, who visited us for 3 weeks way back when the Caspi-Man was still a baby, returned to Australia fluent in just 2 German phrases: "Ich liebe es" [gleaned from the MacDonald's commercials on TV and used to tell the locals how he was enjoying just about everything - from the beer to the ice-hockey] and "Nein! Nicht in dem Mund, Caspi-Man!")
So, while "No!" is unfortunately becoming ever further entrenched in his vocabulary - I am taking some comfort in the evidential development that the Caspi-Man is no "Dobber" (he's not once run to me or the Ger-Man to "tell on" Olli).
No, he is quite happy to take to matters into his own hands, (which are planted firmly on his tiny hips), as he bellows at the top of lungs: "NEIN! Olli- NEIN!"
A Picture.
In which Olli can be seen admiring his gorgeous caramel eyes, reflected in an exquisite pill-box that my darlink- sister sent me for my birthday (which was a few months ago).
The pill-box is beautifully inscribed with the rather scary question:
"What if there is no PMS and this is
really
my personality?"
my personality?"
What if, Indeed?
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Who knew?
Having never before had a cat AND a transparent-doored, front-load washing machine, I never knew there was so much fun to be had in watching a cat watch the washing...
A retraction.
Did I really say that the Caspi-Man has always been extremely respectful of all animals?
Perhaps I’d better now be changing that to read –‘HAD always been extremely respectful of all animals’, as Olli’s arrival in our household last Saturday is definitely amending that notion…
But on the up-side, following are a few things that I fully expected to have to say to the Caspi-Man, but (surprisingly) have not (as yet) needed to:
1. “Please don’t eat the cat’s food.”
2. “Please do not chase Olli with your water pistol.”
3. “Don’t tell fibs. Olli did not go to the fridge and eat the chocolate/cheery/ice-cream.”
On the other hand, here are a few things that I never- in a million years- dreamt I’d be saying – but, in the last few days have:
1. “Olli, get your paw out of the washing-up water!”
2. “No, Caspi-Man, Olli really does not want to play with mummy’s lipstick.”
3. “I said NO, Caspi-Man, DEFINITELY NOT. You are not, under ANY
circumstances, allowed to make piddles in Olli’s litter box.”
And two of these- would you believe- I’ve said more than once!
Perhaps I’d better now be changing that to read –‘HAD always been extremely respectful of all animals’, as Olli’s arrival in our household last Saturday is definitely amending that notion…
But on the up-side, following are a few things that I fully expected to have to say to the Caspi-Man, but (surprisingly) have not (as yet) needed to:
1. “Please don’t eat the cat’s food.”
2. “Please do not chase Olli with your water pistol.”
3. “Don’t tell fibs. Olli did not go to the fridge and eat the chocolate/cheery/ice-cream.”
On the other hand, here are a few things that I never- in a million years- dreamt I’d be saying – but, in the last few days have:
1. “Olli, get your paw out of the washing-up water!”
2. “No, Caspi-Man, Olli really does not want to play with mummy’s lipstick.”
3. “I said NO, Caspi-Man, DEFINITELY NOT. You are not, under ANY
circumstances, allowed to make piddles in Olli’s litter box.”
And two of these- would you believe- I’ve said more than once!
Monday, June 30, 2008
How it all came to pass...
One of the key factors that struck me when I moved to Germany - was just how dog-friendly it was. (And still is.)
Coming from a country that has slowly over the years adopted an attitude that man's-best friend is best left at home, and preferably even there muzzled and restrained, I find it delightful how here - your dog is welcomed on the streets, can accompany you shopping, or out to dinner, and is even covered by your ticket on public transport.
Initially fighting homesickness, and spending way too much time alone, I became convinced that a dog would greatly enhance our lives. At the start of my second year here I desired a canine friend with fierce longing.
(A cat was out of the question. My beloved feline creature was still in Oz with my mum, too old and set in his garden-loving ways to ever adapt to inner-city German life. To casually acquire a second seemed callously disloyal.)
The Ger-Man was way more skeptical. But not completely opposed. We endlessly discussed the pros and cons. "We travel too much," said the Ger-Man. "We live on the fourth floor without a lift," he continued. "We like to sleep in," he said.
Eventually, he concluded: "A dog is an enormous commitment. It would completely change our lives. I really don't think we're ready for that much responsibility. How about we have a child instead?"
Coming from a country that has slowly over the years adopted an attitude that man's-best friend is best left at home, and preferably even there muzzled and restrained, I find it delightful how here - your dog is welcomed on the streets, can accompany you shopping, or out to dinner, and is even covered by your ticket on public transport.
Initially fighting homesickness, and spending way too much time alone, I became convinced that a dog would greatly enhance our lives. At the start of my second year here I desired a canine friend with fierce longing.
(A cat was out of the question. My beloved feline creature was still in Oz with my mum, too old and set in his garden-loving ways to ever adapt to inner-city German life. To casually acquire a second seemed callously disloyal.)
The Ger-Man was way more skeptical. But not completely opposed. We endlessly discussed the pros and cons. "We travel too much," said the Ger-Man. "We live on the fourth floor without a lift," he continued. "We like to sleep in," he said.
Eventually, he concluded: "A dog is an enormous commitment. It would completely change our lives. I really don't think we're ready for that much responsibility. How about we have a child instead?"
Yep, I kid you not... those were pretty much his exact words.
About 10 months later the Caspi-Man joined us and all thoughts of a dog were somewhat succeeded.
Over recent months, however, we've been revisiting the pet idea.
The Caspi-Man has always been extremely respectful of all animals, endlessly interested, and has now reached the age where (hopefully) a mutually beneficial relationship could develop. And as my beloved antipodean feline passed away a few years ago, the possibility of a kitten arose. (Unfortunately, as we still live on the fourth floor without a lift- a camel, the Caspi-Man's pet of choice, is somewhat out of the question. Besides which, I'm not sure there'd be room on the couch- let alone the bed- for the four of us.)
So, last Saturday, the newest member joined our family. He is small, gorgeous, cheeky, adorable, and I suspect by Wednesday, will be totally ruling our household.
And so it came to pass...
Mental note to self:
It is probably not the wisest of ideas to tell the Ger-Man how well his country men cope with defeat and to suggest that it is perhaps a well-developed cultural feature. (I am nothing if not subtle.)
Yes, it was quite a subdued crowd making their way home from football watching events last night, and I was incredibly touched watching the after-game coverage on TV.
The German team were so dignified, resolved and stoic. None of that howling, bawling and grass thumping seen by some other teams. Honestly, Herr Ballack showed all the resolute, sombre, contained suffering of a Jane Austin-created character. The only detraction was the dubious facial hair sported by a few of his fellow team-members. (Well, that and the constant spitting. What is it with footballers and public spitting?)
The only consolation (as weak as it is) is that at least we weren't kept awake all night by ecstatic revelers...
Yes, it was quite a subdued crowd making their way home from football watching events last night, and I was incredibly touched watching the after-game coverage on TV.
The German team were so dignified, resolved and stoic. None of that howling, bawling and grass thumping seen by some other teams. Honestly, Herr Ballack showed all the resolute, sombre, contained suffering of a Jane Austin-created character. The only detraction was the dubious facial hair sported by a few of his fellow team-members. (Well, that and the constant spitting. What is it with footballers and public spitting?)
The only consolation (as weak as it is) is that at least we weren't kept awake all night by ecstatic revelers...
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Nothing like it since 2006...
Your national team has just won the semi-finals of the European Championship.
What are you most likely to be doing?
Well, if you're anything like the people that inhabit my town - you're gonna be heading for the streets to euphorically chant and sing and blow whistles and wave flags.
Or, you'll be jumping in your car (preferably with 8 or more of your closest friends) and joining the growing convoy of like-minded revelers, to drive laps round town while chanting and singing and hanging out the window waving flags - all the while- blaring your horn.
This being Germany, the home of 'Ordnung', you'd imagine the police'd be doing something about it. But, from what I've just viewed out my front window, they seem to be joining in!
It is impossible to describe the noise here right now... And all this on a 'school night'!
(I'm not really bah-humbug though, it is all very exciting. And we did actually have a couple of Friends over to watch the game. I even utilised the German-flag-soccer ball napkins AND the soccer toilet paper that the Schwierig-mutter brought over last Friday. Reckon I've just got enough of both left over to see us right for next Sunday!)
What are you most likely to be doing?
Well, if you're anything like the people that inhabit my town - you're gonna be heading for the streets to euphorically chant and sing and blow whistles and wave flags.
Or, you'll be jumping in your car (preferably with 8 or more of your closest friends) and joining the growing convoy of like-minded revelers, to drive laps round town while chanting and singing and hanging out the window waving flags - all the while- blaring your horn.
This being Germany, the home of 'Ordnung', you'd imagine the police'd be doing something about it. But, from what I've just viewed out my front window, they seem to be joining in!
It is impossible to describe the noise here right now... And all this on a 'school night'!
(I'm not really bah-humbug though, it is all very exciting. And we did actually have a couple of Friends over to watch the game. I even utilised the German-flag-soccer ball napkins AND the soccer toilet paper that the Schwierig-mutter brought over last Friday. Reckon I've just got enough of both left over to see us right for next Sunday!)
Monday, June 23, 2008
Another (not so) random question I'm pondering:
Apparently, one should never 'clean' a teapot. Beyond just rinsing it out with water. And there's that whole thing about never washing a wok. To do so would compromise on future flavour, so it is said.
So - does there exist any culinary school of thought that advocates the merits of an unclean oven?
Just randomly wondering...
So - does there exist any culinary school of thought that advocates the merits of an unclean oven?
Just randomly wondering...
Sunday, June 22, 2008
5 things we learnt in Morroco.
1. The Caspi-Man likes camels.
In this, he takes after his great-grandfather who also had a thing for camels. In fact, it is widely believed that one actually shared my grandfather's backyard (in a suburb of inner Sydney) for a while. I've been told (since early childhood) that sand was regularly bought to keep this camel happy.
During our time in Morocco, the Caspi-Man developed a special fondness for one camel in particular. This camel goes by the name of Masoot. Masoot also liked the Caspi-Man. Especially after the Caspi-Man shared his bread roll with him.
So strong was the Caspi-Man's natural camel riding ability - that Masoot's owner said the Caspi-Man has the potential to be a great camel jockey. Perhaps he could even become a "camel whisperer"...? So now I'm adding that to the list of his potential future career options. Along with fireman, pilot, street beggar, master chef and supreme dictator. (Yeah, don't ask.)
2. A holiday must be clearly defined.
The Caspi-Man strongly believes that the term "holiday" only applies to the things he finds fun. So any engaging in non-beach / non-swimming /non-camel riding activities (for example: strolling through the Souks of Marrakesh, or meandering in the Tombs of the Sultans) will have him loudly asking - "can we please go back to holidays, now?".
3. There are very few foods that cannot be enhanced by clever addition of cinnamon.
OK, I admit that this is more a preference rather than a 'learning' (as such). And it is an opinion not necessarily shared by all. Including the Ger-Man. Which is a shame. (In my opinion.)
We also discovered that it is a wise idea, when buying spices (or indeed any food stuff) from Moroccan Souks, to indicate how much you want by price. As in: "I want 20 dirhams of Cinnamon / lamb / mint / olives / etc, please". Any other approach will find you astounded by how much it is possible to spend / buy.
4. It is rather expensive to call Morocco from Australia.
My mother discovered this by dialing our hotel with a cheap calling card and learning that $10au credit would buy her 18 seconds talk time. (She quickly hung up and sent a text instead.) My sister, meanwhile, is dreading her next phone bill after calling direct and babbling with the Caspi-Man for half an hour.
5. That:
- All 3 of us like to laze on the beach. (Ok, 1 of the 3 of us prefers to splash in the sea.)
- All 3 of us like to laze by swimming pools. (Ok, 1 of the 3 of us prefers to splash in the pool.)
- 2 of the 3 of us like to make random attacks with water pistols.
- 2 of the 3 of us like to enhance our lazing with trashy paperbacks.
- 2 of the 3 of us find cinnamon in foods extremely yummy.
- 1 of the 3 of us really likes camels. (Had I already mentioned that?)
- All 3 of us had a truly brilliant and unforgettable time.
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