May 2006 Archives

What to even SAY about my trip to Germany!

It was like visiting the US and Germany at the same time. My brother-in-law Frederick is in the US military, and as such, lives near and works on a US base in Schweinfurt (there are a couple around the area).

So in every department there was a bit of both:

Food (of course, I am a Grunewald, this comes first) - schnitzel, big pretzels VS enchiladas, chili, calachies
Drink (of course, see above, this comes a close second) - german beer VS Bud (with a little Murphy's Red thrown in for an Irish twist)
Hugo's vocabulary - "oh maaaaan!", "ouchie" VS "auto", "hast du honger?"

Hugo is just too much cuteness to handle. He's really changed, more than I even anticipated. He's so smart, really cute and affectionate when he wants to be. His little phrases constantly surprised me - he calls his sweet yoghurt after dinner "ice creamcakeyoghurt". And when you give him something he's asked for and he says "thankyooo" unprompted, your heart just screams with pride and happiness and the feeling that you're so blessed to share family with this little man. He really is the most exciting, most amazing thing to happen in our family in simply ages!

Coming home was sad, but I have great memories from 5 days of fun with Cha, Fred and Hugo and I'm so glad that I've got off my butt and gone to see them.
Ian didn't come with (he stayed in London and threw his name away on a bender, so jealous) but he will next time. And coming home to him tonight was so good - I am happy, and feel lucky to have such amazing people to love in my life.

Soppiness! Right, your regularly scheduled programming of complaining and Seth Cohen should return shortly.

PS - the photos on flickr are from the trip, but I have decided to put the pics of Hugo on a friends and family viewing option. If you can't see them, would like to, and aren't a scary type of person, leave me a comment and I'll hook you up with the Hugo-love.

Still packing, so this'll be short - I'm off to Schweinfurt, to see Charlene, Frederick and lil Hugo for 5 days. It's been about a year and 2 months since I last saw them, I imagine Hugo is totally different now! And I doubt he's going to recognise me.

But I've got the camera, so will take lotsa photies.

Rotwein / Weisswein means 'red/white wine'. I'm totally ready for this.

In an effort to keep the blog 'blogged', here's my version of a meme, shamelessly copied from Dan.

I guess my bookshelves say I like Booker Prize winners. And I should stop buying books because I have a couple yet to read here.

Should anyone wish to borrow one of these (unlike Dan, I like to keep my books, and not give them away!) let me know and I'll be happy to pass it along.

Photos of the new flat are to follow (eventually). The place does still look like we've just moved in, but as Ian told his dad on the phone this morning, weekend by weekend we're getting there.

The flat itself is lovely, small but comfy. It's a little bit cold, nothing smushing up under a blankie can't deal with (come winter my positive outlook may change). The park across the road is great for runs. That's right! Me, I run now! A little.

The only weird thing is that one of the neighbours, the ones directly above us, make strange noises at 11pm every weeknight. This is usually when I'm reading in bed, trying to keep my eyes from dropping so I can find out if Anna Karenina does decide to leave her husband... and then the noise...
It's a creak, but a weird creak, a creak in two parts, if you will. And it's rhythmic. And it goes on for a bit.

Now I know what you're thinking it is, and I was too. The first time I noticed it, Ian was already asleep, and so the next day I told him about the creaky bed upstairs. He looked sceptical.
"But there's no vocal sounds. And the creaking stays at a constant rhythm, never slows or goes faster," I told him.
"It doesn't sound like it's that then."
"Well, that, or the guy upstairs has a rowing machine."

When I post the photos of how small our flat is, you'll know that it just can't be a rowing machine. It's not a mechanical bike. And it goes on for at least 40 minutes each evening, at a constant pace. Every time I think about it, my mind comes up with a possible cause, but none of them fit the puzzle perfectly. Washing machine (every night?), exercise bike (sound doesn't fit), treadmill (it's a creak, not a pounding).

Mystery.

Travel For London
Too Frikkin' Late
Takes Forever, Like (best said in a Geordie accent)
Turning Fairly Loco
Total Frontal Lobotomy
Tortoises Faster Lately (my personal favourite)

There is no more accurate way for me to describe the way I feel today other than kak.

The fancy dinner thing was awesome - I was sat between a work colleague and a man from another publishers who turned out to be very interesting and fun to talk to - I definitely got the better deal as one of my colleagues was sat across the table next to a very stuffy looking individual.
There was a minor celeb compere-ing, so that was good. The food was ok for a mass produced dinner. The wine... let's just say I made good friends with the wine.

Which has led me to the most severe case of losers this morning. Having to apologise to colleagues for time costing in the cab (hey - I just moved, my subconscious hasn't had time to absorb my new address!) and nursing a code orange hangover has left me wondering if drinking to this level at a work function is a good idea. Sure, there were people from my company who were worse off than I, but I don't know if that's really a good justification for being steamed in front of your boss.
I used to think that people who looked down on the company drinkers were uptight, bossy types; I think I may be coming around to stepping off of that 'let's get retarded' platform I hopped onto when 16 and throw in a coke or two at these evenings in the future.

Just another realisational moment that I'm supposed to be an adult now.