book comments 8

Recent and not-so-recent non-fiction:

"Walking Through the Wardrobe: A devotional quest into The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe" by Sarah Arthur
--a thought-provoking read
--GREAT DEVOTIONAL GUIDE FOR YOUNG ADULTS
--practical, daily life applications
--challenges the thinking
--challenges readers to share their faith in a kind-hearted way
--highly recommend for (a) teens, (b) parents of teens, (c) anyone interested in the connections between Christianity and the fantasy genre

"High-Tech Worship? Using Presentational Technologies Wisely" by Quentin J. Schultze
--refreshingly candid look at how modern technology influences corporate worship and vice versa
--thought-provoking
--for the most part scripture-based, as far as I remember
--recommend for anyone involved in determining the course of worship services
--caveat: Readers will need to weed out some denomination-specific terminology.

"The Practice of the Presence of God" by Brother Lawrence
--I can't say enough good things about this book.
--in my mind, this ranks on the level of C.S. Lewis's "Mere Christianity"
--Brother Lawrence describes a covenant relationship with God boiled down to its fundamentals
--in modern parlance, this is a "how-to" book for how to love God--or maybe "How to Love God, For Dummies" ;o)
--highly recommend

"The Art of Coming Home" by Craig Storti
--excellent must-read for anyone transitioning "home" from another culture
--realistic, no-holds-barred, ACCURATE assessment of culture shock, re-entry shock, adjustment
--good warnings included (especially for those who think adjusting won't be a problem)
--highly recommend for those anticipating or experiencing a cultural transition
--especially recommend for the families and friends of culture-crossers

Homeward Bound: A Spouse's Guide to Repatriation" by Robin Pascoe
--another great must-read on what it's like to experience cultural re-integration
--perspective of a spouse not returning to a "normal" career path
--funny, gives an oft-needed, lighter perspective on transitional difficulties
--highly recommend

ich denk an euch

Hallo ihr Lieben!

Ich hatte dies eigentlich gestern Abend geschrieben, aber Gesichtsbuch hat's irgendwie von alleine gelöscht. Naja, mal sehen ob' diesmal klappt....und ausserdem trifft's heute genauso zu wie gestern! ;o)

Ich sitze hier und geniesse den schönen Anblick unserer Weihnachtsdeko. Ed und ich haben gestern schon gescmückt, aber soeben hat er den letzten Schwibbogen aufgestellt. "We have hübsche Lichter!" sagte ich. ;o) In einem gestrigen "status update" hab ich erzählt, dass wir unsere Weihnachtsdeko das letzte Mal vor zwei Jahren sehen durften--denn letztes Jahr blieb alles eingepackt vom Umzug. Ich denke daran, dass wir diese schönen Sachen--und das meiste stammt aus'm Erzgebirge!--das letzte Mal zusammen mit euch geniessen durften.

Ich wollte euch also nur mitteilen, dass ich an euch denke. Ich weiss, ich hab im letzten Jahr schrecklich wenig von mir hören lassen. Aber trotzdem denke ich täglich an euch, vermisse euch, und habe euch alle sehr, sehr lieb!

Eure Courtney :o)

transitional meltdown revisited

Things finally came to a head today. I'd been feeling the malaise (or ennui, if you will) coming on, and I'd been doing various creative, spiritual, and mental/emotional health exercises to stave it (that is, the malaise/ennui) off. But I knew that at some point, something was gonna give. I asked the house church to pray for me yesterday, so I knew that God would get something done, one way or the other.

God seems to answer my prayers in the grocery store a lot. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Sort of.

So this afternoon, I got ready to go to the grocery store. Crest, to be specific. I finally remembered to bring along my cloth bags and Klappkiste (? a foldable plastic box, great for carrying stuff, staple in every German household). I debated taking the cloth bags into Crest with me and asking the bagger simply to bag my purchases in my personal bags. I decided against that, though, figuring it might throw the bagger for too much of a loop.

Because, as you know, friends and neighbors, baggers don't like to be thrown for loops. I didn't know that before this afternoon, but I sure as turkey-at-Thanksgiving know it now. My leaving the cloth bags in the car must have been prophetic. But again, I'm getting ahead of things.

Went to Crest. Shopped for groceries. Couldn't find chicken broth. Found lots of new food for Pippin. Gave up on chicken broth. Chicken broth and catfood not related.

When I arrived at the cash register, I told the bagger that I'd like for him to place all my groceries directly in a cart without bagging them. The bagger in question made an affirmative noise--"Mmhm" or "Okay" or somesuch. I turned my attention to the cashier and the growing total on his screen as he scanned my groceries.

A few moments later, I looked to my right and saw the bagger putting my squash and northern beans into a paper bag.

"Oh, I'd like for the groceries to go into the cart," I said again, thinking maybe he didn't hear me the first time. "I don't want any bags."

He bagged a can of catfood. "Well, I'm really not supposed to let you do that."

Wha....?

My brain tried to process for a second. Didn't succeed. See, this is the part where the cultural transition issues come into play: I couldn't grasp all the implications of what he was saying. It was literally impossible for me to shift gears in my mind. I grabbed onto the first thing that popped into my head, probably chipping off a few mental teeth in the process.

I would love to say that I replied to him with gentle, polite, but firm insistence.

Instead, all that came out was, "What happened to 'the customer is always right'?" And it was rather snippish, too. I was mortified at my own rudeness, but plowed ahead anyway. "I really don't want any bags."

"Well," said he, "we've been having problems with people stealing food."

I felt my mouth drop open. Rationality was making a hasty exit. I looked from him to the open exit door...seven or eight feet away. How would I steal food, going from this register out that door? Do you want to watch me?

Aloud, I said, "I'll be going from here--" pointing at my feet "--to there--" pointing at the doorway close at hand.

He glared at me. At least, it seemed like a glare. It could have been an expression of abject disappointment in the way his day was going. I don't know. He kind of mumbled something. I gestured in the general direction of the shopping cart. "Please just put the groceries in the cart. I really. Don't. Want. Any. Bags."

He began taking catfood, beans, and other items out of the bags and putting them into the cart. As I turned away with a world-weary sigh, he muttered, "All right, but it won't be my fault if you get stopped."

I forbore replying to that. This whole time, the cashier had continued merrily scanning items and sending them in the general direction of the recalcitrant (!) bagger. The total had risen, but I didn't care anymore. I just wanted to get out of there.

I finally got out of there. I told the bagger, "Thank you for your cooperation," and said it with a smile. I pushed my cart the seven or eight feet from the register to the open doorway. I neither stole food, nor did anyone accuse me of any crimes. I drove home and put away the groceries.

Ed walked in the door, and I cried because I hadn't cooked anything and had bought the wrong kind of light bulbs.

"All I wanted," I wailed, "was to do something good for the environment! I wanted to save some trees! I just wanted to shop the German way!"

A big part of why I'm okay now is that I have a husband who listens, who doesn't care that there's no food, who's perfectly happy to make his own supper, and who lets me cry when I need to. He's amazing. God is amazing, for blessing me with Ed.

So there's the most recent story of my cultural transition. We're approaching the one-year mark, and I think I'm doing pretty well. I'm aware of moments like this afternoon, I recognize them for what they are, and I process them. I don't fret about why this is happening to me or about whether or not this is ever going to go away. I know that eventually, because I have God, I'll be fine. No matter what happens. He has brought me through worse than this.

It's funny, though, how my major meltdown moments are connected with stores. This one at Crest, a previous one at Buy-for-Less. A few years ago on furlough, I had one at Wal-Mart, and in Chemnitz, I had one at IKEA (a sofa and a credit card were involved). That just goes to show what an integral part necessities-shopping is in culture.

And that's all I have to say about that. :o)

in which i discover why i hate commercials

It's because I didn't grow up watching or listening to them.

Growing up in Germany, I watched AFN: the American Forces Network. For various and sundry reasons--most, I'm sure, having to do with copyrights and trade agreements and the Geneva convention or somesuch--AFN doesn't air commercials for products on the US market. AFN airs commercials for the US Armed forces: Army, Navy, Marines, Air Force.

So, growing up, I never saw commercials for Cheerios and Windex and Chevy and Atari. (Aye, I hearken back to the '80s, y'all.) Now that I'm an adult, I feel that most TV commercials do little more than insult my intelligence. That probably makes me a snob, but c'est la vie. I can't think of one product I own as a result of seeing a commercial on television. My instinctive reaction to commercials is: "Go away. When I want something, I'll ask for it." (This is also my instinctive reaction to salespersons in department stores, but that is another rant and shall be ranted another time.)

Come to think of it, since I grew up watching info-spots for military service, it's a wonder I didn't join the Army or something. Of course, they wouldn't have taken me anyway, what with the arrhythmia and all. Anyway, here are some of the "jingles" from *my* childhood. You other TCKs out there, feel free to chime in! ;o)

Be all that you can be!
Find your future in the Army!
We're looking for a few good men.
The few. The proud. The Marines.
You shoulda had a sponsor.
Practice good OP-SEC.
Fly Space-A.
Report fraud, waste, and abuse.
Dial 1-1-0. A Polizei emergency team will respond when you need it.
Be a designated driver.
Visit your Recreation Center.
Shop AAFES.
No "jingle" per se, but there were the warnings about suspicious briefcases or packages that might be bombs.
How to marry a local national.
Gasthaus!
Follow the chain-of-command.
Don't accept gifts from subordinates.
Life. Be in it.
Assorted food-pyramid spots.

Oh, and don't even get me started on some of the random kids' shows on Saturday mornings! Jem & the Holograms, Bravestar, Galaxy Rangers....some great ones like The Electric Company, Big Blue Marble, 3-2-1 Contact....ahh, those were the days. ;o)

cultural transitions do funny things...

...for instance: Recently, I have discovered in myself a penchant for listening to loud, fast, hard music. Not at home, where I would bother the neighbors, but pretty much anytime I'm in the car by myself. Thanks to my dear friend who prefers I don't broadcast her generosity, I have a car--did I tell people that?--for which I had to pay only $1.00, and this car not only has more horsepower than I've ever driven regularly before, but it's also equipped with a lovely stereo system.

On top of that, I've found myself becoming more open to creative influences--including influences in music--lately, partially due to culture shock reactivity, and partially due to some of the insights I gained by working through Julia Cameron's "The Artist's Way."

All of which is how I found myself driving south at 70mph on I-35 yesterday, rocking out to Metallica (Stefan, you'll be interested to know it was that "Sandman" song ;o) and AC/DC and REO Speedwagon.

Understatement: It was fun.

Understatement: I miss the Autobahn. ;o)

transitional ruminations

I feel as though I'm overdue in penning some words about the cultural transition that Ed and I have been going through. To begin, I'd like to grace you with a top ten list that illustrates one of the frustrations that goes along with transitioning, namely, the fact that people often don't know what to say to us. (Please note that I am not angry over these utterances, but frustrated.)

Top Ten Things NOT To Say To Cultural Transitioners And Why
(in random order, though I have a particular dislike for #s 5 and 7)

1. How was your trip?
It wasn't a trip. It wasn't a vacation. It was my life. Please to be noticing the difference, thank you. ;o)

2. We've been praying for you to come back.
I think I know what you mean when you say that, and you might think that's a lovely sentiment. But when you say that, what I hear is that you've been praying for me to be separated from people and places I love. That's neither helpful nor encouraging.

3. You've got a lot of time on your hands now! You could (fill in blank with an activity or a job for which I have expressed no interest).
I didn't come back here with no plan of what I want to do with my life. This was not a spontaneous, frivolous decision. Much thought and prayer and planning went into it. Please don't assume I'm sitting around, bored, with nothing to do, just waiting for you to come rescue me with ideas that would make *you* happy.

4. Oh, you were in XLand? I was in XLand back in the '70s....XLanders are so (fill in the blank with a prejudice you developed while you were over there for two years 30 years ago).
Please don't assume your experiences were my experiences. Also, please refrain from telling me, based on your few months' experience, what the people of my homeland are like. Not to be snotty, but I do believe I know them better than you do.

5. Adjusting? Oh, give it a couple of months, you'll be fine.
I see. And the last time you went through cross-cultural reentry was...? Oh, you've never left your home state? Ah.

6. It's so good to have you back. I don't know why anyone would want to leave here in the first place.
(Okay, so nobody has said these words to me directly....but the implication is all over the place.) Well, probably because God created a whole, huge, interesting planet that I want to know about, not just a single continent.

7. I bet you're proud to be back.
I'm sorry, but I don't even know what that statement means.

8. It's good to have you back.
Why? You've never had more than two or three conversations with me. You don't know me. How could my presence possibly signify in your life one way or the other?
(Note: This truly applies only to those who haven't made an effort to get to know the returnee. If you do know me, and if you have made the effort, it is definitely heart-warming to hear you say that you're thankful for my being here!)

9. Aren't you glad to be back?
Yes. No. Maybe. Sometimes, the answer changes from one hour to the next. If you're not prepared to listen to an answer you don't really want to hear, please don't ask.

10. We're so glad to have you home.
This isn't my home. For one thing, I didn't grow up here. From that perspective, I haven't lived in my "home" for 12 years. For another, I spent the last 6 years building relationships and planting roots somewhere far removed from here. This isn't my home. This is your home. On this earth, I don't have a home. And actually, I'd like it to stay that way.

11. Unspecified.
Open to anyone who wants to share some of their own experiences of being on the receiving end of remarks of this sort, as well as dealing graciously with them. I don't always. Especially when it's stuff like #s 5 and 7. ;o)


Looking over the last 8 months (we have been here over 8 months--that is so weird), I can see a lot of lows, a lot of highs, a few plateaus, and some banged-up knees and elbows as we've tripped and fallen and sprawled flat on our faces and gotten back up again. I say "we" because Ed and I both have dealt with our share of spiritual and emotional scrapes and bruises...but really, I'm talking about my own transition here. Cross-cultural reentry is an intensely personal experience (which is what makes it so difficult to describe to anyone who has never experienced it), so each person's is different.

My lowest point so far was Earlyapril through mid-May. The bathtub incidents kind of set off the depression--but if it hadn't been the bathtub, it would've been something else. But I've had help. Help from a wonderful, loving God, who has sent wonderful, loving people into my life and placed me in loving, wonderful communion with them. I've had help through open, honest, in-depth conversation. I've had help through "The Artist's Way" (by Julia Cameron--THANK YOU, GAIL!!!), which is opening my eyes more and more to what it truly is that God created me to be. I've had help through a loving, wonderful, commiserating husband, who has actively grown with me even as he deals with his own transition issues.

I feel very blessed. I not only feel it, I *am* it, and I live it. I hesitate to say that I am learning to be content, since that is such a huge concept....but I think I am beginning to learn it. I am beginning to know why I am here, I am beginning to know what the next step could look like, and it's an unknown shape, but I'm excited about it instead of terrified. I feel as though I am unpacking my mind here, instead of merely unpacking cardboard boxes. I am beginning to travel light again, instead of schlepping around the misery of not knowing who I am. I am beginning to feel/see/hear reference points, reorient my inner compass, tune my inner self to the resonance of God's universe.

No matter what happens, I always know that eventually, I'll be at peace. Moving over here, finding myself in a low spot of sadness and depression, I knew that eventually I'd be at peace.

It's nice that at-peace is starting to happen again.

cultural transitions bite...

...and I despise bathtub drains that leak into the neighbor's apartment *AGAIN*, thereby depriving me of a well-earned bubble bath.

Blech.

my transition meltdown. let me show you it.

I ought to be getting in bed right now. I've actually not been doing half bad about keeping to a regular sleep schedule lately. I'd hate to mess it up just because of a little case of RRRCS. Reverse Reverse Reverse Culture Shock. But as I was about to shut down the taplop, I realized I simply didn't want to go to sleep without blogging about this first.

Don't let the sun go down on your culture shock. Isn't that how the scripture goes?

Anyway...

I've been feeling edgy the last few days. Partially because of hormones--I'll spare you those details. But even if it is hormone-related, that doesn't make the emotions any less valid.

So. Edginess. Still, okay. Then came a couple of phone calls yesterday. Well-meant, and ordinarily not something I'd react to adversely. But I came away from them feeling inadequate, untrustworthy, weak, and foolish (notably, not by the callers' doing). I don't need to say that this did nothing to take the edge off the edge. So I won't say it.

Today, I got an email from our dear friend Elsa, reporting on the latest ETM class that took place last week. And there was a photo, too. Not only that, but there was a meeting over the past weekend for *all* the ETM participants *ever*.

I took one look at that photo, read the first line of Elsa's email, and promptly started bawling.

I should have been there, was what I was thinking. I wanted to be there. Desperately. But I couldn't be there. And I suddenly felt like I was wholly and irrevocably in the wrong place.

Shortly thereafter, I called my parents to talk about something totally unrelated, ended up misunderstanding something Daddy said and getting upset all over again, and then bawling to both him and Mama. Later, Jennifer came for coffee, and I bawled to her. Then Isaac arrived, and I bawled to him, too.

By the time Ed got home, I was all cried out. Besides, just seeing him made me feel better. Later, Jennifer and I went for a walk and a talk, and that helped a lot, too.

I don't *really* think I'm in the wrong place. I'm not *truly* dissatisfied with where I am in life and why and whatnot. That might be how I feel right now, but I know it's not so. The feelings are valid, but they aren't a reflection of reality. They're simply part of the transition process.

So eventually, I'll be okay. Today was just a rough day. I've known for awhile it was coming. But, like the day I cried in Buy-for-Less, I didn't expect it on a particular day. It's impossible to predict what will trigger it.

Tomorrow evening, I'm supposed to substitute teach a Ladies' Class. On personal evangelism. You know, that thing I did fulltime in Chemnitz. That thing I believe is part of the definition of "Christian." I hope I can get through the class. With God's help, I know I can. But only if I let him take care of the transition-emotions. And I'm not sure I'm ready to let go of them and let him, yet.

Blech.

I don't like this.

I think I might do some painting this week.

That's all. I feel better now. :o)

another very TCK rant, if you can stand it

...and if you can't, stop reading. ;o)

Okay, so a few days ago, I wrote about how I get really irritated when people give me 20 seconds of their attention, then turn me off right as I'm in the middle of answering THEIR question.

This isn't going to be a rant about that again.

But this *is* going to be a rant about something else to which I react with anger.

I'll be brief.


To Whom It May Concern--And You Know Who You Are:

Do not tell me I'm not a "good American" because I get upset when you bash Europe. To my face.

Do not tell me that I sound more German than American in my opinions. If I *am* more German, then it is none of your business.

And do not tell me that I need to decide which country I want to be a citizen of in my heart.
Do not have the audacity, the utter gall to say such a thing to me.

______

I'm done.
______

This isn't a cross-cultural re-entry issue for me. This relates to the ever-difficult, ever-present, life-long struggle of feeling torn between cultures. Even after I complete the current cultural transition phase, this isn't going to go away. I accept that, so please don't anyone worry that I'm having a meltdown. I'm not. I just read something this evening that reminded me of the incident described above, and I realized I'd feel better about it if I aired the dirty laundry in public.

one of the reasons i like living on the north american continent

Ed and I now live within easy driving distance of both sets of parents.

This means that the six of us can get together. Tonight, we did just that, as Ed's folks are in town for the weekend. I know I've mentioned before how much I am enjoying being around family...

...but have I mentioned before how much I am enjoying being around family? ;o)

It's just neat to sit in my parents' living room, look around, and see my parents and his parents, chatting together, laughing together, and getting to know each other better. They've been a part of each other's lives for ten years. I feel all cozy and pleased to think that they're finally able to spend time together, and Ed and I can be part of that and get to know our parents as they relate to each other.

My grandparents never really had that. My grandmas corresponded with each other for forty years, but the four of them never got together simply for the pleasure of getting to know one another. I'm very thankful that in this next generation, my parents and Ed's are taking a different path--and a more heart-oriented one, I believe.

Culture shock and missing Germany aside...this is nice.

a few items of randomness

The title says it. No further introduction.

--Tonight, Ed and I dropped by Buy-For-Less (not Best Buy! I'm getting it right this time!) after our dinner date. We strayed into the international foods aisle and pored over some of the items. This time, I didn't cry! And we bought Spätzle (Swabian egg noodles)!

--This week, I spent two days babysitting the Antwines' great-grandson, Ethan, since Clyde had surgery on Tuesday and Queenie couldn't take care of husband and toddler at the same time. (Imagine that!) Let me preface my following remarks with this: Ethan is adorable; an incurable flirt; and the best-behaved one-year-old I have ever met. The second day, he didn't feel well, and even then, he was still easier to take care of than nine out of ten other kids. He and I had great fun together, and when he came to me and wanted to be cuddled....well, to say my insides melted would be an understatement.

However, I also must say that I'm thankful that babies come in much smaller, less mobile packages at first. Going from no-kid straight to take-care-of-toddler absolutely wore me out. I can't remember when I was last as tired as I was at the end of those two days. And the fact that he needed my near-constant attention...well, I'll put it this way: I wouldn't be able to be a writer and take care of a baby at the same time. It just wouldn't happen.

So, for now, I am perfectly content to be the writer. Nothing against anybody or anybody's babies. It's not you, it's not them, it's me. So many of my friends and family have had babies over the last few weeks, this subject has been on my mind quite bit. My conclusion is that I am wholly selfish in this: I'm not willing to give up my time and energy for a child right now. That being the case, I have no business having one, and I currently have no problem with being selfish in this way. Yes, I would like to have a baby at some point...but not now.

Just in case anybody was wondering. ;o) Maybe this will forestall any comments such as, "Courtney, you need to have a baby." I haven't heard a lot of those since the miscarriage (thankfully, people do have a sense of tact!), but the number of such comments has been increasing of late. It hasn't gotten to the point of severe irritation yet...but I have found myself replying mentally with fairly snarky remarks that I'm not going to repeat here.

I didn't want this to turn into a baby-thoughts post, so that's all I'm gonna say about that for now.

--By the way, I whacked my head on the corner of the bathroom cabinet almost two weeks ago. The huge knot has disappeared, but it still hurts a little. I don't think I've ever hit my head that hard before. I actually saw spots, went to my knees, and thought I might pass out on the edge of the tub and probably hit my head a second time. Thankfully, that didn't happen, and I didn't even throw up (in which case I would definitely have passed out), but still.... God knew what he was doing when he designed that skull, lemme tell ya.

--Our email didn't work properly for a month, and I am still catching up on the piled-up inbox. There were over 250 emails to sort! I narrowed the must-answer ones down to about 70, and I'm slowly working my way through them. I'm down to 23. Of course, that's not counting the ones that have come in since I started sorting.

Verily, verily, I say unto thee, I am seriously tempted to boycott email and tell everyone that if they want me to write them, they'd better send something through snail mail, 'cause I ain't doin' this no more. I am tempted, mind you. I'm still resisting.

(Resistance is futile; I will be assimilated? Hmmm....)

Okay, enough with the random. Ich gehe jetzt ins Bett, und damit basta!

(English-only speakers, make of that last what you will, but I truly didn't say anything indelicate!) ;oD

something i miss about germany

In Germany, you can buy terribly swell stickers imprinted with the words "Bitte keine Reklame oder kostenlose Zeitungen." This means "No advertisements or free newspapers, please."

Guess where you get to place these ingenious stickers?

That's right, Gentle Reader: You get to place them ON YOUR MAILBOX.

In Germany, companies can get into trouble if your mailbox bears one of these stickers and ads and papers end up inside said mailbox anyway.

THIS PRACTICALLY ELIMINATES JUNK MAIL.

I MISS THAT.

THANK YOU.

a culture shock tidbit

Below is my comment on something Allison posted in her blog:

Allison wrote: '...in the past couple days there have been a few instances when I have been waiting at a counter to either order food, ask a question, or pay for an item and I have felt totally lost in the non-order of the situation.... I was frustrated by the time someone finally acknowledged me and had the audacity to ask, "Uhh, do you need something?" (no, I just hang out here for kicks.).......A "bitte schön" would have been nice, but instead, nothing.......I just started talking, uncomfortable but not sure what else to do.'

I quoted all of that because those tidbits are *exactly* what I've been experiencing lately but haven't been able to put into words. THANK YOU, Allison!!!!! It's not that I'm demanding service....but it would be nice if the cashiers and whozits paid at least as much attention to me, the customer, as they do to each other!

Gah!

Helloooooo, culture shock, indeed. ;o)

i am up to my old tricks...

...of staying up till all hours of the night. Or the wee hours of the morn, if you will. Or even if you won't. Either way, I've gotta get out of this nightowl routine again, or I'm never gonna get adjusted over here.

Speaking of adjusting, here's a funny thing, if you think this kind of thing is funny: While we lived in Chemnitz, I spent September through May of every year feeling almost unbearably cold, especially where the temperature of my poor footsies was concerned. No matter how much I bundled up, I was usually cold. The acquisition of a hot water bottle a few years ago was a great help, but I had to keep it filled with almost boiling water at all times, otherwise it was useless. ("The boy's Eustace, m'lord!" "'Useless'? I dare say he is!") So most of the time, I simply bundled up and froze and made sure as many people as possible were aware of my utter misery. (Sorry, friends.)

Since we've been here in OKC, I haven't been cold. At least, not as bone-deep, ice cold as I usually am this time of year. This is partially due to the fact that the weather here is a bit warmer than in Chemnitz, and partially due to the central heating prevalent in this part of the country. In most places here, including in my own apartment, I have been warm to the point of feeling uncomfortable.

Until this morning.

Yesterday, when I started unpacking boxes, I got too warm. The sun was shining outside, so the apartment got pretty toasty as the day wore on. Finally, I just switched the heating system off, and it has been off ever since. Today, I even had the windows open, so as to create a through-train (draft). Yup. On purpose.

Okay, now here's the funny thing: This morning (or, rather, yesterday morning, since it is already the 20th), while sitting at breakfast, I got cold.

And I liked it.

Because it felt like home.

elvis is my friend

So, in Matt's livingroom is a life-size cardboard cut-out of Elvis. The King and I have spent a lot of time together lately, since Ed takes the car to work every day and there's no bus. I've asked him (Elvis, in this case, not Ed; although I occasionally ask Ed, too) to sing for me, but so far, he has not deigned to oblige.

Anyway, that's not why I'm writing this. I'm writing this to announce that, in case you haven't heard, Ed and I have an apartment! We got the keys on Thursday, and my parents helped us move in the few items of furniture we stored at my grandparents' six years ago. We're not actually living there yet, because we first had to get the electricity turned on, and then we went to Ed's family reunion over the weekend, so it hasn't been feasible to move over there yet.

Here's a funny thing, though, in case I haven't mentioned it yet (which I can't remember whether or not I did): Our new apartment is in the same apartment complex that we lived in before we moved to Chemnitz! And not only that, but the new apartment is right next door to the old one! It kinda weirded me out to walk into the new one: It's an exact mirror image of the old one. I'll have to be careful not to try going into the neighbor's apartment thinking it's mine. ;o)

Ed's family reunion on Saturday was lots of fun, if a mite overwhelming. There were 80 people there! In my family, it'd be unusual to have half that number. I'm culture-shocking anyway, but I really had to remind myself that being in a crowd wasn't a bad thing and that I didn't need to get upset about it. So I had a good time instead and was glad to be there. Ed's rough biker uncle dressed up as Santa and handed out candy canes to all the kids, and Ed sat on his lap, and much laughter ensued.

And once again, it was very nice to say bye to Ed's folks, to his sister and her kids, and to say 'see you soon' and have it be true. It won't be another two or three years before we see them again, and I am truly thankful for that.

I think we'll continue the moving-in process tomorrow evening, though I don't know yet when we'll move over for good and let Matt have his house back. ;o) It'll be before the end of the week, anyway.

In the meantime, I think I'll try to woo Elvis by buying him a nice string of beads.

P.S. The first time I heard U2's "Mysterious Ways," I was on a bus on a clas trip to Köln. I just thought I'd mention that.

tonight i cried at buy for less

Tonight, I had my first intense moment of homesickness since we arrived here three weeks ago.

Ed and I went grocery shopping at Buy For Less after eating dinner at Zorba's. Zorba's is Greek fast food, and the homesicknessfeeling started while we were there, because I started thinking of Palas Athen, our favorite Greek place in Chemnitz, where we've spent so many wonderful hours and had so many great laughs (not to mention spectacular food!!!) with great friends and with the jovial owner. Zorba's, with its hectic atmosphere and high-decibel noise level, didn't exactly measure up to what we're used to. (The food was good, but their idea of gyros isn't what we've gotten to know at Palas Athen, either. However, we're remaining open enough to give Zorba's another chance. We'll just have to put our minds in a different gear beforehand. Or would that be 'beforefood'? ;o)

Anyway, by the time we got to Buy For Less, I was already feeling somewhat melancholy from missing Palas Athen and the fun times we've had there--and especially the people we had those times with (you know who you are). Then, at Buy For Less, Ed ducked into the bathroom for a few minutes, and I found myself in the foreign/specialty foods aisle.

And suddenly, I saw it: German food.

Buy For Less has Klöße. And Rotkraut. And Sauerkraut. And Rittersport and Lindt! And Spätzle! And Semmelknödel! And Bratkartoffeln! And Gurken pickled in Thüringen! And Buy For Less even has pickled herring, which I absolutely despise, but it's a staple of Saxon kitchens, and it all reminded me so much of home that I suddenly found myself standing in the middle of Buy For Less, crying and thinking that I probably looked absolutely ridiculous but not caring whether or not I looked ridiculous, and then Ed came back and just hugged me, and I took him to see the German food, and slowly I started to feel okay again.

Oh, and Ed and I also spent the evening speaking German with each other, and that probably added to the sudden burst of homesickfeelingyness as well.

I think what helps is that I knew this was coming. It had to happen at some point, and I'm kind of relieved that it happened. It needs to happen--and it will happen again and again for awhile--so that I can acknowledge my feelings, accept them, and move on.

Coolly enough, Buy For Less also has Twinings (Erin!) and PG Tips (Ed!) and Branston Pickle (Boynses!). And Turkish Delight, which I don't eat, but I still think it's keen that they have it!

*sigh* I probably don't sound like it, but I do feel better now. :o)

brief update

Hi all,

I've gotten a few emails from some of you who are apparently concerned about my recent lack of posting. *sniff* I didn't know I had such a loyal following! ;o) So here's what's what:

We had one Thanksgiving with Ed's family at his brother's house.
We had one Thanksgiving with my family at my grandparents' house.
(Please note apostrophe usage.) ;o)
Much fun and food and fellowship was had by all.

We looked at rental houses.
None of them seemed right for us. The last one we looked at was totally trashed, and the landlord didn't seem terribly motivated to do anything about it.
We decided we wanted something a bit more secure.
So we went to talk to the manager of the apartment complex where we lived before we moved to Chemnitz.
Bernice, the manager, was thrilled to see us again.
We filled out a rent application and are waiting to hear whether or not we get an apartment.

Ed has filled out multiple job applications and has had multiple come-see-us-after-Thanksgiving conversations with prospective employers.
So, no job yet.
But we're hopeful.

Our shipment is scheduled to arrive in port in Houston Dec. 12th.

We've been reconnecting with lots of family and old friends whom we haven't seen in a long time.
I have really been enjoying this. It's nice to know it won't be another two years before I get to see them again.

I'm also missing my family in Chemnitz.
Ahh, the emotional roller coaster never stops.

I want a place to live, a place with my stuff in it, and the settled feeling I need in order to start writing again.

I also want my paintbrushes and some new paints and canvases. Autumn has ben very inspiring of late.

This is already longer than I intended it to be, so I'm gonna quit now.

P.S. If you haven't seen the movie "Babel," please don't. It's not worth it, Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett notwithstanding.

courtney will euch updaten

Hello dahlings,

Well, it is currently 06:27 a.m. here in unexpectedly mild-weathered Oklahoma. As many of you already know, Ed and I arrived here Tuesday night with no problems. Oh sure, there was a delay in Chicago, and as far as Pippin was concerned, the trip was the worst thing that has ever occurred in the history of the universe, but other than minor frustrations and the quite vocal protestations of the feline persuasion, we arrived here safe and sound.

There was only one minor, teensy-weensy negative aspect to the whole thing.

On the long flight from Frankfurt to Chicago, I had an aisle seat.

Across the aisle from me was an older man.

Who sneezed.

A lot.

A LOT.

In my direction.

I couldn't escape.

I turned my head away.

Apparently to no avail.

Guess what I have now?

"Hi Courtney! Welcome to the new chapter in your life! Wouldn't you like your usual sinus infection to go along with it?"

I do not have to tell you how I feel about this.

So far, at least, it's not too bad. I'm not sure yet if I'll need to go to a doctor. In the meantime, I got up at 6 a.m. because I had this terrific sensation of drowning while I was lying in bed. I didn't enjoy that very much. So I got up. Problem Solving For The Internationally Rootless. ;o) I am so glad I have my nose shower.

I hope that by my sarcasm, you can tell that I'm acutally in a fairly good mood. ;o)

Here's a brief recap of what's been going on so far:

--About 20 people met us at the airport. That was really neat and gave me warm fuzzies. We didn't get to talk to everyone extensively, of course, but it was nice to see faces we haven't seen in a long time and to know that we're of interest. :o)

--From the airport, we went with both sets of parents to my parents' house, where we had Mexican food for dinner. That alone would have been amazing, of course, but what really topped the cake was knowing that this was only the second time the 6 of us have ever had dinner together. It was really neat to look around the table and to know that if life goes as we hope it will, we'll be able to do this more often now. We also sat around and drank coffee and talked all morning. It was cozy and nice and exciting to tell each other stories of our lives.

--Yesterday was our first Wal-Mart adventure. It was scary and overwhelming. I didn't like it. But the first person we talked to in the store had lived in Germany before and was really nice. So that was comforting. But then other people started talking to us, too, and I suddenly felt weirded out that so many strangers chat with each other over cat food and shelves of aspirin. I *really* had to remind myself that this isn't weird, just different.

--Last night, we went to Bible class at Britton Road, our sponsoring congregation. Saw a lot of people we haven't seen in a long time. Got a lot of hugs. Heard a lot of "welcome home"s. I didn't like that part. Heard a lot of "we know you're not coming home, but we're still glad to see you here." I liked that part. One of the elders, Charlie, said he was looking forward to sitting down with us and hearing us talk about Jim, because he's been interested in everything we've said about Jim in various emails. I was really impressed and felt sehr gut aufgehoben when Charlie expressed that personal, specific interest in our thoughts.

I felt out of place because of the size of everything: enormous building, big crowd of people, umpteen different classes to choose from. I felt out of place because of the cultural references made in the Bible class we ended up in. I felt out of place because a lot of people greeted me by name, and I couldn't remember theirs.

But I didn't feel as out of place as I expected to. I think it was good that our first visit there was on a Wednesday night instead of a Sunday morning. I feel like I was able to stick my foot in the water and see what's what before going swimming. Nothing nibbled on my toes, so I guess I'm okay so far. ;o)

So that's the new chapter so far. Today, if I'm not deathly ill, I need to go buy some black boots; Ed wants to stop by Oklahoma Christian Academy to talk to someone about talking to someone about talking to someone about a possible job ;o) and tonight, we're going with my parents to see the musical "West Side Story" at OC.

And at some point, I'm going to take a nap.

Maybe after breakfast. ;o)

lifecasting: not for the faint of heart (i guess)

A couple of days ago, I saw a report on Yahoo! about a phenomenon called "lifecasting": People strap cameras to their heads and broadcast their lives over the Internet 24/7. In a way, this has been done before by those who set up 24-hour webcams in their dorm rooms, office cubicles, refrigerators, what-have-you. The difference here is that lifecasting is mobile; people are broadcasting their lives as they live them, outside of their homes, everywhere they go.

Call me antiquated, but I think this is kind of odd. The word "nutty" comes to mind. Yeah, I'm kind of indulging voyeurism by having a journal that is accessible to the world (see: blog) and by reading other people's blogs. However, I do not record every moment of my private life here, and I don't read every moment of other people's private lives. Lifecasters have no private lives.

The only time this one guy turns his camera off is when he goes into public restrooms, because otherwise he'd be breaking the law. Even when he's having sex with his date, he leaves the camera on, though it's turned toward the wall with the mic off. That's something anyway, I suppose.

Another lifecaster allows her viewers to give her direction on what to do. If they say, "Buy and drink a cappucino," she buys and drinks a cappucino. (She carries her laptop around with her so that she can remain in constant contact with her viewers.) So far, she refuses to obey orders to take off her clothes in front of a mirror, but I wonder how long this resolution will last.

Lifecasting, to me, is just a bizarre phenomenon. It's like "Big Brother" on steroids. I suppose George Orwell would be thrilled.

my parents are leaving europe

So, the Big Move is finally taking place. Last week, the military sent movers to my parents' house in Mörfelden. They arrived on Monday, packed for two days, and took the containers away on Wednesday. Mama and Daddy stayed in the house a few more days; then, the owner told them that he would like them to leave *now* in exchange for not having to clean and paint the entire house over the course of the next week. So, though this initially caused them quite a bit of extra stress, they went earlier than planned to the home of a friend in the Wiesbaden church. They will stay there until this coming Monday, when they plan to travel to Chemnitz and live with us for the next month, minus a 10-day trip to Greece.

I have to say, I don't think the magnitude of it all has hit me yet. Since I didn't see the move take place, my brain is still telling me that the Mörfelden house is still as full of their possessions as it has been for the last ten years. I feel like I usually do at this time of year: My parents will go to Oklahoma for the summer and then come back to Germany to start the new school year / opera season. I feel this, even as I know it's not true. Possibly, my feelings won't catch up to my knowledge until fall rolls around and my parents are *still* in Oklahoma, without return tickets.

Hence, I haven't really started to be sad yet about their move. A little, but the rest of the mourners are still waiting in the wings, I suspect.

Mama and Daddy have lived in Germany for 27 1/2 years. Originally, they only intended to stay for five! Recently, as I hadn't heard this story yet, I asked Mama how they made the decision to stay past the 5-year mark. She told told me the following, to me highly amusing, anecdote:

When we had lived in Germany about 3 years (so this was sometime in 1983), the three of us were at the Woog, a small lake in Darmstadt. Mama and Daddy were watching me play, when Daddy suddenly turned to Mama and asked, "If we were to leave Germany now, what would you miss the most?"

Mama thought for a minute and then answered, "The Autobahn."

Daddy nodded and said, "I'd miss that, too."

And until retirement came around, that's the last time they ever talked about moving. ;oD

On a more serious note, I'm concerned about how they'll adjust once they're back in Oklahoma past the "vacation-period" time span. Twenty-seven years is a long time. Germany is their home. They are not "coming home" to Oklahoma; they are moving to a foreign country. (The same applies to Ed and me regarding our move in November, but that's another post and shall be blogged another time.) Mama used the right word when she described leaving Germany and leaving their jobs as "bittersweet." I imagine that their arrival in and adjustment to Oklahoma will be much the same.