Zweibruecken with the mutter

 Ha ha.  Theses two pictures together make me giggle.  I like these four...especially when they are together.

 This not-so-little house in Zweibrucken was my first home.

This dear lady is the owner of this home.  She must have seen us taking pictures because about 30 seconds later she opened her front gate and invited us into her garden.  It was lovely, and Christy (my mutter) was in raptures.  All of these scrubs used to be grass.  My siblings would drag me across the lawn in my playpen because they were in charge of watching me.

 "Our" timing was perfect, because as soon as we left the house my mom saw a red car drive up the road and turn into the Zeigler's home.  We were told they still live there.  I dont think I have ever seen my mom move so fast as she ran (sorta) down the lane to meet up with them.  Doris was her dear dear friend and recognized my mom almost immediately.  I enjoyed getting to witness this reunion.

  Later, C.h.  found a bakery and baught something like butter bread. It reminded me of sweet latino bread from my mission. Mmmm.  She calls it butter kucken.

 This is one of my favorite little männlichs in the world.  While we sang the mien licht song, that our friends the Volzs taught us last year.

 This DARLING church rang like crazy after the hour dongs...I think I counted 91 ding-dongs.

 Um...I would like to point out Seth in this picture. What a little pouter...

 WARNING: Fat ladies should not flip over these bars. 

 This Trier, Germany cathederal is where the apostle Mathieas is burried.  I thought the flowers were lovely.

 This kid is missing THREE front teeth.  He scared me and I was teasing him that I was gonna rip his tooth out and made like I was going to grab...which I did.  When I told him is was in my hand, he didn't even believe me.  You see, he has been teasing me that he has had it in his hand, so he thought I was doing the same.

 The roman colossium, is the largest outside of Rome, and it was awesome.  We went down under the oval arena to where they kept the animals and where some of the other gladiators waited.  MUS-TY.

 Even the parking lot at the colossium was picturesque. 

Bruges with the Moeder

Bruges- (In Flemish it is pronounced BROO-ghah...a little raspy on the shah if you please or broozh in French.)  is a quaint little mideval town near the shore in northern Belgium.  And I sorta love it.  The stepped gabled brick buildings are very indicative of this area, and I want to see a chimney sweep hopping up them-but I dont know if they do that.  BTW Christy took this picture and is very pleased with herself.

CH and one of the three existing windmills in Bruges.  This picture cost us 30 Euros...in parking ticket fees. Doh.

 After the windmill spot, we drove into the middle of one of the squares.  This little gent saw us and approached our car to ask if he could help.  Christy mentioned we were looking for a place to park.  He kindly said he would give us directions or, if we would permit him, he could get in the car and go with us.  "I dont speak a lot of English, but enough to say 'Turn left. Turn right.  Turn left here."  He was the kindest, dearest little man in all of Bruges.  I didn't have change for parking, only a 5 Euro bill.  He took it to get change.  When he returned he admonished us to be very careful.  "There are many pick-pockets around.  They will just take your money and go."  Then with a smile that gave a twinkle to his eye, "But I am not so dangerous."

 
When I returned to my car, I found this little note, carefully taped to my windshield.  Isn't he a dear?

 We ate fish and chips at this busy little friterie.  There was man do it all...so we understood when he forgot 2 drinks and tarter sauce (which costs an additional Euro).  Ha.  Those were the best Belgium fries I have eaten.

Then we found a little gem of a lace shop named Rococo, Wollestraat 9, Brugge-Belgium.  It is a Belgian lace manufactory and has been in the family since 1833.  Christy had prayed before our trip, that we would be guided, and boy howdy were we ever.  There was a lady in the shop from Chicago who is a lace curator.  She knows her stuff, and because she did, the dear owner took her to show her all of her pieces and treasures...and I got to follow them around.  The lady has a site that I have added to "sites I like" over on the right.  She mentioned that the lace work that the shop owner, she was probably my age, did was "Excuisite."   I purchased a lovely, not-cheap handkerchief and will use it whenever I go to a temple dedication.

The owner was led to know what to show us and tell us about because of our questions.  I was interested in patterns.  She showed us how the teacher who owned the journal below (best handwriting I have ever seen) taught her students.  The colors shown here tell the student what tied or knot the lace maker should use.  The owner mentioned it was like how "Dō is the same.  Everyone, everywhere would know it is the same key.  It is the same with Lace.  The purple color tells the maker to use a half knot."  Hmmm, I found this very interesting. 

This is really extraordinary.  Little straight pin are pushed into the pattern on the pillow and then the lace string is "woven" into different knots and so forth. Those are  A LOT of spools. 

 
A much simpler design.  I think this one is from one of the daughter of my favorite shop owner.

This is an interesting piece.  I understand that there are maybe only four pieces like it in the world by the creator of it.  The lady who made it up used both needle point lace and bobbins and it was very interesting to the curator.  She pointed out the place where the different techniques mingled...but I didn't get that exact spot.  Doh. 

We took a little bus tour and it was informative and made little Brugge seem bigger than it is because we drove up and back the same streets several times.  It was fun to go with my mom, and gave some good details we wouldn't have known otherwise.

Seth is 5!!!

Seth says funny stuff.  Like a couple days ago at dinner he grabbed our attention with a line he uses often.  "Hey guys!  I have a great idea!"  Once he had established that we were all ears, "We should have a new last name!  IT'S (pause for affect)  NINJAGO!"

At five Seth loves: dancing to the chipmunk movies sound tracks, playing the wii especially Mario, jumping on the tramp, waffles and sausage, being home, sneaking into our bed at night, Calvin and Hobbes, riding his balance bike (it's taken awhile), forts, making people laugh, sitting on my lap during primary, swimming on his front not his back, babies, singing the primary songs, saying prayers in primary-he always volunteers, ham & cheese sandwiches not P&B, wrestling with his brothers, dress-up costumes especially Robin and also Dash, ring pops, books, movie parties with popcorn, snuggling.

I just read the above to him and said, "Is there anything else?'  He said, "Taking naps" and not a moment late says, "Kidding."

Seth is a smarty.  He is reading, his penmanship is very clear, he does simple math, and he just gets stuff.  (The last part of the last sentence would be an indicator that Seth inherited his papa's intelligence gene, and not his mama's, thank heavens.)   Whoever are his guardian angels, they are lucky.  I love listening to Seth pray.  He says mostly "Thank Thee" prayers, and it covers all the bases.  After saying thanks that the missionaries could come for dinner, or thanks for our family, he will say something like, "Thank Thee that the missionaries will get home safely." Or  "Thank Thee that we will have a good time tomorrow." He loves Heavenly Father and he follows Jesus' example.

I taught his sunbeam class today.  We were speaking of homes, and I was showed a picture of Nephi's family on the boat and asked them children who was pictured.  Seth said, "Nephi."  His Sunbeam teachers told me in the past that without Seth they would be in trouble, he knows all the answers.  Anyway, I asked who his father was and Seth said "Lehi.  And Sariah was his mother."

He gets a little glint, like a serious glint, and he laughs and laughs at himself.  I usually join in his laughter because it is contagious.

Sweet Seth, you absolutely love life.  And we love life more with you in it.  You make everything more fun and happy.  HAPPY  5th BIRTHDAY Sethy boy!

Another 12 SVP

 We only have 2 official family rules in our house.  

The first one was chosen even before we were married.  Eric and I had been engaged  a few months and we were sleeping over at my sister’s house.  Kelly, my awesome sister, heard the tell-tell sounds of a grand mal seizure coming from the room were I was sleeping.  Eric was sleeping some where else, and Kelly had someone fetch him so that he could see the whole ugliness of my dumb disease.  And it was ugly.  I was ugly.  I threw up, chewed my tongue, and I didn’t recognize him.  About a dozen times I whispered to my sister, asking who the fella sitting next to me was.  It wasn't pretty.  I think he cried.  Later, when I was more coherent, he mentioned to me that he thought an appropriate family rule would be: In our family we don’t have seizures. 

It’s been 12 years, and there has been some hum-dinger reactions, but the rule has never been broken.

Our 2nd family rule has been broken, several time.  It is: We don't kick dad in the nads.  This particular rule has only been in effect for about 7 years...cause that's how old Isaac is.  We have been married for almost 12 years and have had the pleasure of 3 darling children.  I think Eric makes CUTE babies, I mean the CUTEST babies ever, in all existence.  It wasn’t part of his eligible bachelor curriculum vitae, but it could have been one of his best selling points.  He has lots of best selling points:

He packs the car whenever we go on road trips. 

He empties the trash.  

He gets our boys ready for church. 

He brushes teeth, changes diapers, and gives baths. 

He fetches my glucometer from downstairs at night when I have forgotten it.

He calls MY mom. 

He is generous, money isn’t what matters most, people matter most. 

He is a missionary advocate and says things like, “I think we should do whatever we can to help the missionaries.” 

He buys me red, white, and blue flowers on the 4^th of July. 

He picks the YSA up at the metro every weeks and brings them to our house for FHE. 

He reminds us daily to have family and couple prayer. 

He plans awesome family trips, and takes us to the beach, Disney, and Denmark to name a few. 

He cooks dinner. 

He goes grocery shopping. 

He rubs my shoulders while I am at the kitchen sink. 

He fills the car up with gas.

He makes me giggle, and is my favorite person with whom to share inside jokes.

He is the whole package.  I like 'im.  In 8 days we will be celebrating our 12th  anniversary, an even dozen folks.  I'll take another 12 please, the whole package deal, s'il vous plait.

Letter to my 16-year-old son

I didn't write this, but when my boys are 16 I am going to hand write this and then sign my own name. I figure it's sorta like saying "Amen." to a prayer.  And also I found this on a FB page called the hands free revolution, which I found today, and like.  https://www.facebook.com/TheHandsFreeRevolution

A Letter to My 16-Year-Old Son 

"This life is not about keeping score. It’s not about she-got-to-go-to-camp-but-I-didn’t or he-got-a-phone-when-he-was-eleven-and-I-had-to-wait-till-I-was-thirteen. Keeping score that way is exhausting and fruitless. You see, my boy, life changes, circumstances evolve, nothing stays the same. What happened to you when you were fourteen is not what will happen to your brother when he’s fourteen ...

Do you see that path? The one with the light and the promise and the possibility? Take that one.

Take the one in which your vision allows you to see what you do have instead of what you wished you had. Leave that other path unexplored. Don’t give it one more second of your precious time or energy. Don’t look over your shoulder with a wistful glance. Forge on, son. Forward motion.

Sure, you’re going to trip and fall occasionally. You’ll skin your knees and twist your ankles and stub your toes. Perhaps your internal compass will malfunction and you’ll lose your way. Get back up, get on the path, dust yourself off, and go. You’ve got places to be, things to do, lives to touch, miracles to make.

If you really want something that only money can buy, go get a job and pay for it. You have a car. You have the means. You have a million opportunities that so many others don’t. Think about that reality for a second. You can work. You have a strong, healthy body and a fully-functioning brain. Go work. Everything feels better, tastes better, works better, fits better when you’ve earned it with your own two capable hands.

And when you’re done with your after-school shift, go volunteer in a soup kitchen. Pour some sustenance into the bowl of another man, one whose life circumstances have not been as kind and forgiving as yours. Offer an apple to a child with dirty fingernails and unwashed clothes. Tuck a $20 bill — one you just earned — into the hand of a Mama whose clingy brood is crying and hungry and tired and in need of a small kindness.

Then look at your life again.

I promise you’ll see things differently. Everything will be brighter, better, full of options that you hadn’t noticed before.

We’re not millionaires. We might never be. Or we might. Life is funny that way. Money, however, won’t change who we are or how we choose to live. Things don’t change us. Not if we’re running at full tilt and without regret. Things never really matter in the long run, anyway. They wear out, get broken, need to be replaced and repainted. But love? Accomplishment? Bravery? Fortitude? That’s what matters, that’s what sustains.

This family is blessed beyond comprehension. We know warmth in the winter and cool air in the heavy heat. We’ve dug our toes into sandy beaches and hiked through mountains. We sing and dance in the kitchen before we eat the food that more than adequately fills our bellies. We have tried and true friends who offer us their pillows and their hearts and their unconditional support. And laughter. Oh, laughter. We love each other in this little circle of goodness. That doesn’t mean we always like each other, but there is love, always. More love than you can even begin to wrap your overachieving 16-year-old brain around.

Life is tough. Life is unfair. Some will have what you want. Others will get what you think you deserve.

Life is also beautiful and fruitful and unlimited. Look at that life, see those possibilities. Live there. Grow and flourish in that space.

The choice, always, is up to you. Choose wisely, my brave, kind, brilliant, unstoppable son."
-Katrina Anne Willis
http://katrinaannewillis.com/2013/05/23/a-letter-to-my-16-year-old-son/

We ♥ Denmark! Part II

“Enjoy life. There's plenty of time to be dead.” ― Hans Christian Andersen

LEGOLAND

is super awesome...I wish I had a more powerful superlative.

 Our 3 little lego lovers, were in theme park heaven.

Benjamin was super scared, and also in love with this ride.  He and I are in the last cart, and Isaac is wearing the bright green jacket, with his arms up, just in front of us with Seth.  It's a little hard to believe that Isaac was scared to death of Big Thunder Mountain at Disney just a few short months ago.  Now he is a roller-coaster riding, thrill seeking adventure boy.  Benjamin, however is not.  He got on a ride with Seth, it was too light weight for adults and was a kids only ride.  How it works; 6 kids buckled in, sitting in a line and when the ride starts it raises everyone about 12 feet in the air and then drops them down and then flies them back up and so forth.  Benjamin laughed on the first way up and then became a mess of tight muscles and screamed so pathetically that the ride operator stopped the ride, took him off, and then started it back up...and then I changed his wet diaper. 

Benjamin's face in the picture below makes me giggle. I guess it's good that they wont take their eyes of the road, eh?

One actually steers these funny little boats.  I think Seth and I both thought it was a little more "It's a Small World"ish.

 Isaac was in 7 year old heaven when he got to earn a "real" drivers license.  Eric had to explain, several times, that the license is only valid in LEGOLAND and that he could not, in fact, drive our van.

 Cool monorail. 

 On our way out, we stopped at these funny little planes.  It wasn't a long line at all, so when Seth and Isaac wanted to each have their own plane we consented.

...and then a little girl hoped in Isaac's plane with him. 

The lego masterpieces, like the knight below, where pretty awesome. 

Cool castle, NOT made out of Legos, though everything else seemed to be. 

Isaac has become pretty adventurous.  And I was proud of his daddy for joining him.  E does not share Isaac's love of thrilling rides, but he loves Isaac enough to go anyway.  Good work E.

We really love LEGOLAND...and dare I say it, even more than Disneyland. 

We ♥ Denmark! Part I

“Just living is not enough," said the butterfly, "one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.”
― Hans Christian Andersen 

Have you ever been delightedly surprised by a vacation?  You expect it to be good, but then you find your expectations should have been much, much higher?  That is exactly what happened with our little trip up north.  Denmark was delightful.  

Day 1

Our first day out was all driving, and after 7 hours in the car we were all happy to land somewhere other than the van.  Our dear friends are the Volz family, and they call a little village near Hamburg Germany home.  They were gracious enough to let us stay in their home there for the night.   I suspect the Brothers Grim at least visited the area and then used the darling forest as the scene for Hansel's and Gretel's adventure in the woods.  We took an enchanting walk into this forest that begged to be walked through...and I wish I could walk through it daily. 

The neighbors' home seems like a quintessential German house, the whole area was exactly as I imagined it to be.  Side note, Eric got a kick out the man using a flame thrower to clear the weeds in his front yard.  Efficient.

Isaac and Seth loved staying at "Johan's house." The floppy eared bunnies kept them happily occupied for over an hour.

DAY 2
It didn't take us long to get to the little area we were staying.  Check in was later, so we found a spot to watch some fishermen and this cool boat.  We noticed lots of elderly local folk hanging out at the same dock.  It may have been a sign that we were in for a few rendez-vous with the elderly. More about that later.

We went to lunch and Eric got the best Salmon sandwich ever...and it cost about the same amount as a whole salmon would have cost back in Oregon...for real.  Then we walked around one of the streets and went window browsing.  Denmark is NOT cheap.

This is what met our eyes on our first walk down to the beach from our little rental house. DAR-LING!

There were more thatched roofs in Denmark than Belgium and Germany.  I love, love, love  thatched roofs.  And I was delighted (I wont apologize for over using this word...cuz it not possible to over use it when speaking of Denmark) to find a guy re-thatching a house along the trail to the beach.  My stealthy move to click a picture of him didn't work. Doh.

Day 3
On a Sunny day we went to the west coast to a little place called Ribe, which is Denmark's oldest town.     This is where the Viking Centre and where you can sample the life of the Vikings a 1,000 years ago.  

We got to try our hand at all sorts of activities.  Eric is in one of the bunker houses...which I suspect didn't smell to lovely back in the day.

 Funny man let the boys try on a Viking helmet.  He was piecing a chain mail shirt together, and boy-howdy, it was heavy. 

 This lady was making the most divinely smelling stew.  

 Seth was a pretty good shot with the bow and arrow.  And Isaac was consistant, he didnt hit the "bull's eye" (which was a picture of a pig) but he hit nearly all his arrows in a very small circumfrence.  It was impressive.

 There was warrior training for the children and this was the highlight of the day for two little boys whom I like.   I wrote to E's family news letter with the story and I am going to just repost it here.  (side note:  My dear friend, Alicia, is moving back to the states.  She was at my house and shared a sage piece of advice, "Done is better than perfect."  So I am going with that and not rewriting.)

Today we went to a Viking park where they had viking training for children.  The viking trainers where loud and bossy and gruff, but our boys loved it...sorta.  I'll explain.  The children where taught to yell while attacking, and children on the side lines should cheer for their fellows who were fighting the viking trainers by pounding the hilt of their swords on their shields.  Before Seth went out to fight the viking trainer, I encouraged him to yell loudly, and he was brilliant at it.  The Viking hammed it up and let Seth knock his sword out of his hands.  Seth proceeded to chase him around; the crowd loved it, and through their laughter cheered for Seth.  Seth's next viking opponent (there were two) had a long pole with an ax-spear at the end, and with it he snagged Seth's sword...to which Seth promptly began to cry. The crowd laughed and laughed and cheered for Seth again when said viking dramatically let Seth impale him after he pointed towards, and encouraged Seth to pick up his sword.  (Note: Just now, when I was tucking Seth into bed, he got a sparkle in his eye and asked, "Mom, when I chased the Viking around, was that hilarious?"  So all in all, it was a positive experience.)

Isaac's favorite part of the training was defeating a line of vikings with shields all interlocked (the shield wall), with the other trainees.  Isaac would have flourished back in the day; he is an outside sort of fellow,  he has expressed his desire to widdle, he loved hammering sticks in round molds, he loved shooting a "real" bow and arrow, he followed the viking warrior-teacher's every instruction to the letter (maybe I should buy a cool viking hat and shield), he climbed a cool apparatus and balanced across it.  I am glad he was born in the latter-days, but he would have been an awesome pioneer too.  

And Eric didn't say this outright, but I think his favorite part was when he Eric and Isaac balanced on a big tree trunk and then tried to knock each other off with a flour sack that was filled with bunting.  It looks easier than it actually is.  Eric knocked me off 3 times too.

 It looks easier than it actually is.  Eric knocked me off 3 times too.

Even Benjamin liked getting in on the hammering action.  It was cool to see how they made wooden nails/pegs into the proper shape by hammering a wooden shard through a hole and the putting it in the next hole that was narrower and so forth, until it was the desired circumference. 

Play grounds are not the same in Europe as they are in the USA...they are cooler in Europe.  I think they would be deemed to dangerous back home.  Cooler playgrounds in part 2 to come.

The old Germanic word "runa" means whisper, advise, secret.  During Viking times, words could bring good luck or bad luck.  The inscription on this monument rune is meant to give Danes power and life.