I need to start this one with a little introduction.
As many people with basic history- knowledge might know, when at the end of WW2 the Americans got to Germany, German families had to clear out their spaces for the American soldiers to basically move in. That's also what happened to my grandfather, whose room became the temporary home of Bob - one of the soldiers. As strange as this situation might have been, Karl (my grandfather) and Bob remain friends to this day. Bob and his family live in Albany, and Karl calls him every other month, they write holiday cards back and forth, and keep a great long- distance- friendship. Many years ago (I was just born...) my grandparents actually visited them here in the States and had a great time. So - when I moved to NY over ten years ago, naturally my family kept telling me to get in touch with our friends in Albany. "Wouldn't it be great to stay in touch with friends of the family" that sort of thing.
And about a week ago I learned that one should always listen to parents' advice.
OK... Bob has a son who is married to a woman who didn't know what she should give her husband for their 17th anniversary. In the last minute she went to a little corner store and purchased a lottery ticket. And guess what!? They won 10 million Dollars!
First of all: Somewhere inside I always doubted the reality of lottery winners. We hear about them on TV, we might see one of those annoying photos of the winners carrying larger than life checks, but somehow I always felt it was all staged in order to make people buy the tickets. In that perspective it is kinda cool to KNOW that it is actually true!
The other thing is though that I consider myself a fairly lucky person. So - IF the winning of lottery- money was real, I thought that I might just be lucky enough to win one day (granted I would start playing...). But now I just see that chance fade away - isn't winning the lottery so rare that knowing a winner statistically means that I really can't win myself!?
And last, but not least: Why did I not listen?????? I can't just start calling them NOW!!! "Hey guys... I am Karl's grandson; what's up? I've been trying to reach you for ten years, but your phone has always been busy...!?"
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
A glass of (Trenton) water, please
When a while ago the "Trenton makes- the world takes" sign was repaired - or replaced (?) - I had this brief moment of thinking: What exactly does Trenton make these days? I even wondered if Trenton at least made the sign stating that "Trenton makes" whatever it supposedly makes. Personally, I am only familiar with the very cool ANA candle place, where Manolo and I go once a year to stock up on mood- lighting, but other than that I simply cannot come up with anything else that is actually made here. So when I got wind of Trenton selling Trenton Water, it got me a little worried; assuming that this might - in fact - be the only thing left in this town that actually brings money TO the town.
So - last night my friend Christine took me to a meeting to fight the sale of Trenton Water, and I have to say that I was very impressed. I am not gonna lie...: I was certainly not an ACTIVE participant for several reasons. 1 - as a foreigner I cannot sign any petitions. 2 - there was a lot of talk about political insight I simply don't have. 3 - I enjoyed just listening in, learning and trying to understand what the hell is going on. And honestly; I walked out of the meeting STILL not fully understanding what exactly it is our dear Mayor has in store for "his" (oh wait... isn't it OUR???) city. Let me just put it in my words - the way I understood it:
Farmer X owns a large potato field that grows enough potatoes to feed his entire family. In fact - the field had been in his family for generations, and has fed the family for centuries. One day farmer X wakes up and decides that he wants to sell his potato field. Maybe the thought of quick profit lured him into this plan... or maybe he is secretly planning on leaving the farm and the family, and wants to make a buck to take with him. Either way, he made up his mind and he announces his plan at the dinner table. The family takes some time to think, but questions quickly arise: Once we don't own the field anymore, how much are we gonna have to pay for the same damn potato we used to just pick off the field? Since the potato field is virtually the family's only source of income, how can that income be replaced? How much is the future owner really paying, and where is that money going to? What brought all this up in the first place? What would George Washington say about the complete downfall of the very field HE once fought a historic battle on? (I am getting carried away...). And while the farmer has never been a great leader of the family to begin with, the fact that he doesn't answer any of those questions only deepens the family's dislike of him. They get together in a chamber up above the dining room, try desperately to fight for the good and the future of the family, feel lied to, misguided and ignored by the very person who should only have the family's best interest at heart.
Now - please feel free to educate me if my understanding of the situation is incorrect. And if you do, I would appreciate if you did so by using my rather artistic potato- scenario. It somehow makes more sense to me than water. But also:
As a none- American, all I can do is sit through a meeting, show my support and write my little blog. But YOU guys out there actually have a say in this situation. This is a country led by its residents and by caring, everyday people who know what is right and wrong. Thanks to all the people who are getting together to fight for US, to all the people who are standing up for Trenton by speaking out or by simply putting their names on a piece of paper. I encourage everybody to go out there, sign what needs to be signed, say what needs to be said and do what needs to be done in order for us to enjoy our own potatoes from our own field.
So - last night my friend Christine took me to a meeting to fight the sale of Trenton Water, and I have to say that I was very impressed. I am not gonna lie...: I was certainly not an ACTIVE participant for several reasons. 1 - as a foreigner I cannot sign any petitions. 2 - there was a lot of talk about political insight I simply don't have. 3 - I enjoyed just listening in, learning and trying to understand what the hell is going on. And honestly; I walked out of the meeting STILL not fully understanding what exactly it is our dear Mayor has in store for "his" (oh wait... isn't it OUR???) city. Let me just put it in my words - the way I understood it:
Farmer X owns a large potato field that grows enough potatoes to feed his entire family. In fact - the field had been in his family for generations, and has fed the family for centuries. One day farmer X wakes up and decides that he wants to sell his potato field. Maybe the thought of quick profit lured him into this plan... or maybe he is secretly planning on leaving the farm and the family, and wants to make a buck to take with him. Either way, he made up his mind and he announces his plan at the dinner table. The family takes some time to think, but questions quickly arise: Once we don't own the field anymore, how much are we gonna have to pay for the same damn potato we used to just pick off the field? Since the potato field is virtually the family's only source of income, how can that income be replaced? How much is the future owner really paying, and where is that money going to? What brought all this up in the first place? What would George Washington say about the complete downfall of the very field HE once fought a historic battle on? (I am getting carried away...). And while the farmer has never been a great leader of the family to begin with, the fact that he doesn't answer any of those questions only deepens the family's dislike of him. They get together in a chamber up above the dining room, try desperately to fight for the good and the future of the family, feel lied to, misguided and ignored by the very person who should only have the family's best interest at heart.
Now - please feel free to educate me if my understanding of the situation is incorrect. And if you do, I would appreciate if you did so by using my rather artistic potato- scenario. It somehow makes more sense to me than water. But also:
As a none- American, all I can do is sit through a meeting, show my support and write my little blog. But YOU guys out there actually have a say in this situation. This is a country led by its residents and by caring, everyday people who know what is right and wrong. Thanks to all the people who are getting together to fight for US, to all the people who are standing up for Trenton by speaking out or by simply putting their names on a piece of paper. I encourage everybody to go out there, sign what needs to be signed, say what needs to be said and do what needs to be done in order for us to enjoy our own potatoes from our own field.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Poor dog...
The most exciting thing that has been happening in my life in the past months is most certainly my job. It is what I obviously spend most of my time with, and what occupies my mind even when I get home in the evening. And even though I have been working in this new field for over eight months now, moving around in a field that is not 100% familiar is extremely tiring. It reminds me a bit of the time when I first moved to the states, and how just speaking english all day would tire me out. Every word I said would have to be translated in my head and thought through before being released, which was a lot more work than just blabbing something out.
Anyway - bottom line, I come home from work at night and I am pooped;... happy, but pooped.
So, the other evening was just another on of those days where I basically crashed on the sofa as soon as I came back home, while doing a "Nip- Tuck" marathon (which - we just got into and is a GREAT show!!!) Here I was, dosing off, when Kitry decited that it was time for her to visit the back yard. Half asleep I followed her to the door, opened it and let her and Fiby out. Kitry generally only goes out to do her thing - Fiby, on the other hand, LOVES to spend time there. She is in and out of the bushes, hunts for squirrels, birds and cats, runs, leaps and barks as her heart desires. After a few minutes both were back at the door, but when I opened it to let them back inside, Fiby realized that there might be more animals to hang out with and ran back into the greenery. I'm gonna be honest... I was mad. I was tired, wanted to go back to my beloved sofa, cover up and pass out. I as around 11PM, and I was not in the mood to be reminded of how useless our training was when calling "come here", which only causes her to look over her shoulder at best. I closed the door with the words "then stay outside, you little tramp" (which is her nickname) and went back to the living room. On my way there I told myself to let Manolo know that our little one is still outside, but at my state of exhaustion I must have forgotten by the time I was back on the couch.
So - about an hour and a half later I woke up from Manolo laughing like a crazy person, and here is his side of the story.
In our neighborhood it is quite common to hear dogs bark; too many irresponsible dog-owners who let their dogs run free at all hours of the day and night. So - for the fist 15 minutes he was not too concerned when this poor dog started barking at half past eleven. Half an hour into the noise he started getting a little irritated, and when the barking wouldn't let up an hour later he started losing it. "The poor dog... damn those dog owners... idiot neighbors..." Another ten minutes later he went online to find the number for animal control - knowing that there is this particular little dog around the corner that is in desperate need of help. Finally - as he was scrambling around to act on behalf of the poor little pooch that must be freezing cold, possibly hungry and certainly not supposed to be outside, he realized that THAT poor little dog was Fiby.
The little thing was on the back steps FOREVER, trying to get our attention, while I was sleeping like an angel and Manolo was about to call animal control... ON US.
In any case... I have always heard about stories of parents accidently leaving their kids at home, or driving off a supermarket parking lot whithout their child... and I have found a new understanding for it. The mind is an amazing thing - a thing that does not work worth a damn if you're tired.
But I made up for it... sort of; Fiby and I spent the rest of the evening cuddled up on the sofa, wrapped in blankets. She also doesn't run away anymore when I open the door to let her back inside, which is a safe thing to do. But the guilt of neglecting a child is deep, and I have never felt less like a fit parent. No cookie, no toy and no belly-rub can let me live down the fact that I left my daughter outside in the winter in the middle of the night.
Anyway - bottom line, I come home from work at night and I am pooped;... happy, but pooped.
So, the other evening was just another on of those days where I basically crashed on the sofa as soon as I came back home, while doing a "Nip- Tuck" marathon (which - we just got into and is a GREAT show!!!) Here I was, dosing off, when Kitry decited that it was time for her to visit the back yard. Half asleep I followed her to the door, opened it and let her and Fiby out. Kitry generally only goes out to do her thing - Fiby, on the other hand, LOVES to spend time there. She is in and out of the bushes, hunts for squirrels, birds and cats, runs, leaps and barks as her heart desires. After a few minutes both were back at the door, but when I opened it to let them back inside, Fiby realized that there might be more animals to hang out with and ran back into the greenery. I'm gonna be honest... I was mad. I was tired, wanted to go back to my beloved sofa, cover up and pass out. I as around 11PM, and I was not in the mood to be reminded of how useless our training was when calling "come here", which only causes her to look over her shoulder at best. I closed the door with the words "then stay outside, you little tramp" (which is her nickname) and went back to the living room. On my way there I told myself to let Manolo know that our little one is still outside, but at my state of exhaustion I must have forgotten by the time I was back on the couch.
So - about an hour and a half later I woke up from Manolo laughing like a crazy person, and here is his side of the story.
In our neighborhood it is quite common to hear dogs bark; too many irresponsible dog-owners who let their dogs run free at all hours of the day and night. So - for the fist 15 minutes he was not too concerned when this poor dog started barking at half past eleven. Half an hour into the noise he started getting a little irritated, and when the barking wouldn't let up an hour later he started losing it. "The poor dog... damn those dog owners... idiot neighbors..." Another ten minutes later he went online to find the number for animal control - knowing that there is this particular little dog around the corner that is in desperate need of help. Finally - as he was scrambling around to act on behalf of the poor little pooch that must be freezing cold, possibly hungry and certainly not supposed to be outside, he realized that THAT poor little dog was Fiby.
The little thing was on the back steps FOREVER, trying to get our attention, while I was sleeping like an angel and Manolo was about to call animal control... ON US.
In any case... I have always heard about stories of parents accidently leaving their kids at home, or driving off a supermarket parking lot whithout their child... and I have found a new understanding for it. The mind is an amazing thing - a thing that does not work worth a damn if you're tired.
But I made up for it... sort of; Fiby and I spent the rest of the evening cuddled up on the sofa, wrapped in blankets. She also doesn't run away anymore when I open the door to let her back inside, which is a safe thing to do. But the guilt of neglecting a child is deep, and I have never felt less like a fit parent. No cookie, no toy and no belly-rub can let me live down the fact that I left my daughter outside in the winter in the middle of the night.
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