Weekend in Antwerp

Friday afternoon E arranged his schedule so that I could meet Di in Brussels and travel back to Antwerp with her by train. Towing a surprisingly heavy suitcase to Gare Soud, we hooked up after Di completed a job interview. She looked sharp and brainy in a black suit, boots, and her Euro-cool glasses and I schelpped along at her side in my faded Levis, Almost-as-Good-as-Sex walking shoes and LL Bean parka. We chatted on the ride to Antwerp then caught the tram and tried to avoid falling on other passengers or sitting in each other's laps. Di says I groped her bum, but I think she sat on my hand on purpose. You can guess who's telling the truth here.

There was e-mail checking. sofa flopping, a walk to the store to get items for dinner, big plates of spaghetti, and quality time with the Wee Curly Grrrl, who dazzled me with hugs and happiness when she put on the luscious pink velvet princess cloak that E-Grrrl had outgrown and did a bit of a twirl. She is a feast for the eyes and the ONLY living creature who likes to admire my middle age belly. It is good to be three.

I'm just a bit older than that. My birthday is next week, and Di surprised me with a very special gift--a bracelet designed especially for me by my friend Lisa in Virginia (photos to follow when the camera batteries recharge!). I'd commisioned Lisa to make Di a bracelet in October, and she'd made one with unakite beads (the state stone of Virginia), silver Bali beads, and a centerpiece featuring a large glass bead that suggested the stones and mountains of New Zealand, Di's home country. I'd requested a silver charm engraved with the word "believe,"  to remind Di to always believe in her talent and her art.

Lisa's bracelet for me also features unakite beads and has Bali silver spacers as well as garnet and topaz Swarvorski crystal beads. The colors echo my favorite season--fall. The silver clasp is shaped like a leaf to honor my love of trees and nature. She added a dragonfly charm as a symbol of renewal and a charm engraved with the word "power." The centerpiece is a bead that resembles jade and is painted with a russet and gold flower that ties the whole color scheme together.  It is nothing short of perfect--and I love that it ties me to Di and to Virginia and to Lisa. Over the years I've purchased about five bracelets from Lisa as gifts, but I'd never purchased one of them for myself. 

Saturday we went to the market in the heart of Antwerp for crusty loaves of Ardennes bread, deep red flowers, and sweet crunchy apples. There was much buzzing about Saturday afternoon in preparation for my birthday party Saturday night. Jess made two pavlovas, Di cleaned, and I mulled over interview questions from Neil.

Saturday night brought E and the kids to Di's door, as well as Peter  and his s/o, Simon  and his wife Paola, Heather and Helen (Kiwi expats), Lut and Maurice (Belgian neighbors), and Ivan and Eva (a Spanish guitarist and his Belgian girlfriend), and Michelle, our favorite Italian from New Jersey. It was a particularly good mix of people and the conversation was lively. Ivan performed a number of songs for us, singing in Spanish and Portuguese.

E took the children home and I spent another night at Di's, embrassed by how much I adore sleeping under a down comforter with my arms wrapped around a hot water bottle . Sunday we were all late risers and slow moving. E came to join us for lunch and Di did a photo session with my family in the park.

And here it is, dusk falling, the weekend over, and pockets full of happy memories, soon to be followed by photos.

Hope your weekend was at least half as good as mine.

Janaury 27, 2008

Tornadoes

Yesterday my 12-year-old son shaved for the first time because some kids at school were teasing him about a few hairs on his chin.

“But I didn’t shave my moustache off, Mama.”

My 10-year-old daughter has been writing to fairies forever. She’d leave the notes in the garden and the fairies would carry them off and leave replies in wee pink envelopes, often with illustrations.

While we were packing up for the movers. she discovered a pile of her notes to the fairies in a small plastic box. “How did they get there?” she asked me.

She is on the verge of losing her first molar. She got her first bra last summer, six months after she came into my bedroom in the middle of the night and told me she was worried she had cancer because both her breasts had quarter-shaped lumps in them. I told her she didn’t have cancer, that those were the beginning of her big girl breasts and the first  of  many changes on the way for her.

She accepted that information matter of factly and drifted back to sleep. I laid awake for a long time, thinking of my mother, who died of breast cancer, and of the fair-haired baby that I nursed until she was 18 months old, the baby that grew into a girl who still needed me in the night.

A little more than two weeks ago, my period was more than a week late, my breasts full and tender. I told my husband with a wry smile, “Wonder if I’m having your Love Child?” I watched the color drain from his face and noted he made no attempt to cover the terrified expression that followed.

Yesterday, only two weeks after the start of my last period, my period arrived again. I paced the vacant rooms of this house, pausing only to lean my back on the hot radiators and close my eyes against all the emptiness.

Next week, I turn 46. On the same day, I mark the anniversary of my sister’s death. She died when she was 33.

When my eyes slid open this morning and the vestiges of my dreams lingered, I remembered how just before the alarm went off, I was trying to escape a tornado that was bearing down on me. As I squeezed my body into a grassy ditch, I worried that even if the tornado missed me, I might be struck by lightning or crushed by the massive trees growing nearby.

The subconscious is an amazing truth teller.

January 23, 2008

An interview with...

Finn of a A Life Less Ordinary. (Questions are based on things I learned about her on her blog. Check it out.)

You've been blogging for a year now. What did you hope to accomplish when you started? Have your expectations been met or changed?

I've actually been blogging for about four years; I had another blog that I closed a few months before this one. For me, blogging is about expressing myself. Giving voice to things that I may not talk to others about. It's also a way to track the changes in my life, to chart my progress so to speak.

I don't really think that I had many expectations when I started; it was a just something that I wanted to try. What I've gotten back is beyond anything I could have imagined.

I can tell from your posts that you've been working to achieve a balance in your life between caretaking for others and living a purpose-driven life. Do you feel you're making progress? What's the hardest part for you?

I do think I'm making progress, although at times it seems to be two steps forward, then one back. I've done a good job of making things more about me once in a while and not being afraid not only to ask for help, but to expect it from time to time. I think that may have been the hardest part: Convincing people that I needed help. It took me a while to get them to understand.

You say you're a hopeless romantic. Describe your fantasy man or fantasy relationship.

My fantasy man simply "gets" me. He understands me and can relate to me. He's strong, decisive and creative. He's sensitive, caring, affectionate and gentle. He's adventurous, loves to travel, loves to read, loves to talk all night. He's got a compatible sense of humor to mine. He's proud of me, encourages me and pushes me to be the best I can be. He is not intimidated by me. And he's uninhibited and unselfish in bed.

Tell us about your novels or one of your favorite characters.

My novels are largely unfinished, but usually deal with the struggle to find love in one's life. Of course that's probably the romantic in me.

I suspect in the future the themes in my writing will change as my journey changes.

You blog, write novels, and take photography classes in your free time. Does your day job take advantage of your creative drive? I'm wondering if your artistic hobbies are an escape from your job or a continuation of what you do in the 9-5 world.

Yes, my job is fairly creative. It took me a long time to realize that I would never be content in a traditional job. I write, edit and layout a monthly newsletter for a union. It requires a gamut of creative abilities, which is ideal for me.

What qualities do you most appreciate about your 9-year-old son?

I love that he's very smart and "gets it" more than most adults I know! I also love his gentleness and concern for others. And he's got a great imagination.

What's the best thing about driving a Mini Cooper?

The best thing is that it is different than most cars out of there. It attracts a lot of attention and comments. It's a ton of fun to drive, and it's good on gas. What's not to love?

I gathered you lived or vacationed in Capri, Italy.  Which was it? What did you like best about European life?

My entire family vacationed there last year for a cousin's wedding. We rented a villa rather than staying in a hotel.

My favorite thing about European life was the pace. It is a lot more relaxed and laid back than the U.S. My second favorite thing was the food: It was all fresh without a lot of crap in it. And much simpler. The wine too.

Are you more likely to go on a shopping spree in Sephora or Staples?

I'm more likely to plan a shopping spree at Sephora, but I'm equally likely to drop a large sum of money at either store. I have as big a fetish for good paper, pens and organizers as I do for makeup and skin care.

When you go to Borders, is it all books, all music, or a mix?

All books. I get my music exclusively from iTunes because it suits my musical style: A little bit of everything. Plus I like to be able to throw a wish list together and listen to the samples a few times before I buy a song.

You post a lot of still life photography. Is this a type of art journal for you or are you interested in gaining commercial work creating stock images or custom ones for media projects?

I like taking pictures, and I like sharing them with my friends. The only commercial aspirations I have for my photography may be selling prints or putting a book together with words and photos. But I have along way to go before my photography skills are good enough for that. 

(Note from V-Grrrl: Last week I left a comment on Citizen of the Month that inspired Neil to host an "I am Somebody" interview event. Participants are interviewing fellow bloggers and posting the results. Stay tuned to read  Neil's interview with me.)

January 22, 2008

Just like me

Photo by E-Grrrl, Age 10

I see myself in this crooked tree with shallow roots, casting a blue shadow and hanging onto its leaves in the depths of winter.

January 21, 2008

Simple living

Another day that is such a deep gray that it seems we’re stuck in perpetual twilight. The wind has been howling incessantly since the middle of the week, and it fills me with a sense of unease.

The house we’ve rented here in Belgium is bigger than any house I lived in in America; it has three floors, five bedrooms, plus a full basement. Now it holds memories of our three years here and not much else.

It’s currently furnished with three beds, three dressers that look like filing cabinets, two ugly upholstered chairs, one ugly sofa, three end tables, three lamps, a kitchen table and chairs. Every cushioned surface, from the living room furniture to our mattresses, is sealed in some sort of plastic beneath the covering. When you sink into the sofa or chair or rollover in bed at night, there’s loud crinkling. It’s a bit like living in a doctor’s waiting room.

The kitchen is stocked with one plate, fork, spoon, and knife for each of us, about six cups, plastic tumblers, four sharp knives, a colander, and a basic set of cooking pans. The round table next to the window and our familiar dishes make this the part of the house that still feels like home.

The bathrooms hold one towel for each of us and our toiletries are scattered on the floor because they took all our shelves and the house has no built in cabinets or vanities.

My laptop is perched on a pile of empty cardboard boxes—my new desk courtesy of the movers. Two small laundry baskets hold a jumble of office supplies and papers and files on the floor.

My wardrobe consists of three pairs of pants, three pairs of shoes, four turtlenecks, five t-shirts, five sweaters, one vest, one sweatshirt, one set of pajama pants, a jacket and a raincoat. That will hold me until mid-March.

I miss my hot pink down vest, an item I didn’t keep with me because it’s not the most versatile color. It is, however, just the color you need to punctuate the mid-winter gloom and claim some cheer. Still, I’m glad for my heather gray wool cardigan. It’s trying to conjure a bit of levity with its pink striped sleeves.

This is the ultimate in downsizing. This is the simple life for a spoiled American grrrl.

Some how, despite all the planning, things got a bit scrambled during the packing.

I remembered to set aside my watercolors, but not my brushes or watercolor paper. I have my colored pencils, not my sketchbook.

My art journal got packed up, and I’d wanted to keep it with me. I’d planned to mail my photo negatives back to the U.S. in a tracked package but I just lost my will at the end. I did grab photo CDs and professional prints.

I only set aside three books because I don’t normally read a lot of books. Now I long for the distraction of a good story and the floor to ceiling bookcases that teemed with them. I need to get to the library, but I no longer have a car, so I have to pick a day when the wind and rain won’t punish me while I’m walking and waiting for the bus.

I picked up four magazines yesterday so I’d have something to flip through when I’m drinking tea at the kitchen table, a favorite escape now that the cleaning is done.

I have to admit, our Spartan bedroom has its own serenity, almost like a yoga studio. Bare wood floors, white walls, and a double bed with a single blanket on it. A lot of empty, yet a lot of comfort. When the lights go out, we lie on the narrow mattress, our backs touching, and we stare silently into the darkness, waiting for our dreams to roll in.

January 20, 2007

I knew I'd forget something

The bowls in the dishwasher? They weren't supposed to be unloaded into their usual spot on the open shelves but into our Secure Cabinet of Kitchen Stuff behind the flagged "Do Not Pack" door.

Instead they're packed into one of the gazillion boxes stacked to the ceiling. Oh well. As you can see, I like bowls, so being forced to buy four more won't break my heart. ; )

January 17, 2008

Show me the mattress

From 6:30 yesterday morning until midnight last night, I sprinted to the finish line preparing for the movers. Packing clothes into suitcases; separating out kitchen wares, linens, and toiletries to serve us the next eight weeks; gathering up batteries, light bulbs, and other items that can’t be shipped and segregating them; cleaning and oiling the hardwood furniture; vacuuming and rolling up rugs; conditioning the leather chairs; gathering like items together for packing; scrubbing and cleaning the bathrooms, assembling cleaning tools, and washing the curtains in preparation for our home inspection next week.

I fell into bed after my shower and shivered with my hair still wet, the wind howling and rain lashing the windows in the midnight gloom. I hunkered down into my pillow-top mattress and thought of how long it will be before I sleep in my own bed again.

I woke at 5 a.m. with three thoughts: I forgot to set aside Neosporin with the band-aids, I needed to gather up our photographs, and I had to locate the medical summary from my cardiologist so I can hand carry it to the States. I laid in bed for an hour, remembering other things I’d neglected to take care of: I needed to get a scarf, hat, and gloves out of the hall closet; I wanted to pull a poetry anthology off the bookshelves;  I had to make sure my son had packed a pair of khaki pants; I needed to give the kids money for lunch because I wouldn’t be making lunches that morning; and I had to finish tagging the items that the movers shouldn’t pack.

At 6 a.m., I slipped downstairs and started on all those tasks while getting the kids ready for school. At 9 a.m., the movers arrived, smelling of hard work and tobacco. They came over from Antwerp, but most are French speakers. They quickly settled into their jobs and broke sweats. We turned down the heat and opened some windows. I’m freezing. Everyone else is comfortable. E keeps everyone in coffee.

Today is mostly a day of watching and waiting. Seeing my life sift through the sturdy hands of strangers, wondering what thoughts slide through their minds as they wrap my dishes and crystal, precious mementos, shelves of books, drawers of clothes. The work is going much faster than expected—everything we’ve done to prepare has made a big difference.

Now, to keep things interesting, the guys delivering our borrowed furniture have arrived, so as one set of goods is prepared to ship out, another group is ready to set up. We’re trying to make space and keep from running into one another. As E tells them where to place the living room furniture, I have only one thing on my mind: When are they going to set up a bed?

I'm beyond tired. And I have hours to go before I sleep, hours to go before I sleep.

January 16, 2008

This is the part where

...reality hits and all the emotion I've been tamping down for weeks expands in my chest, knocks my heart out of rhythm, and squeezes tears from my eyes.

"If you never stop when you wave goodbye

You just might find if you give it time

You will wave hello again

You just might wave hello again

That's the way the Wheel keeps workin now

That's the way the Wheel keeps workin."

Wheel by John Mayer

January 14, 2008

Mysteries in the mess

As we prepare for the movers to arrive this week, my days are peppered with interesting discoveries:

The key to my bicycle lock, found in my desk drawer, the very place I searched for it last summer. It was MIA for so long we had to cut the lock off the bike.

A corduroy bootie that my now 12-year-old son wore as a baby. Missing its mate, of course. How did this end up in Belgium? We moved here when my son was nine!

More than 30 tapers, 100 tealights, and 20 pillar candles. Um, do you think I have enough?

In addition to all the art I brought over from America, I bought FIFTEEN framed pieces in Europe. Four in England, eight in Belgium, three in Italy. Plus a Belgian tapestry from Brugge and three framed Delft tiles from Holland. Can you see where my shopping priorities are?

How did I end up with more than a dozen rolls of  gift wrap? There's also a gigantic Rubbermaid box of gift wrap in storage in the U.S. I think I need to give more gifts! Or buy less gift wrap. Whatever.

Do I really still have left over Winnie-the-Pooh plates and forks from my 10-year-old's first birthday?

How many baskets of seashells does one person need? Should I throw them away or bury them in the backyard for archeologists to puzzle over in the next century?

Why is there a Trojan in my desk drawer?

Does anyone use diskettes anymore?

Is my personal CD player collectible? It was the first one put out by Sony.

Ah, so that's where all my sunglasses disappeared to.

Explain to me why I have three jars of pimentos in my pantry.

If I throw out this glove, will the mate turn up tomorrow?

Is there a support group for people who own this much Tupperware?

How will I function without my desk--the spot in the house I lovingly refer to as "Mission Control?"

Hello! Another box of candles?!  Should I have a bonfire tonight?

Holiday decorations take up so much room. I need to become a Jehovah's Witness.

Can I be sedated and not brought back to consciousness until we've crossed the Atlantic and the house in Virginia is set up?

January 13, 2008

Eight days, eight weeks

Eight days until the packers show up.

As E, who was tense about the move and all the details to attend to, begins to relax a little bit, I find myself getting freaked out and shifting into high gear.

I wake in the night with anxiety over issues I can’t identify. I walk through the house with my stomach churning, jotting down my thoughts and watching the list of tasks to accomplish before the packers arrive next week get longer, not shorter . The better organized we are on this end, the easier the next three months will be.

Here’s how an international move is different than a local one. The movers will come next week and pack out almost all our stuff. Almost being the key word. A thousand pounds of household goods can be left behind for our second shipment, which will leave Belgium in late February.

When the first shipment leaves next week, we’ll be left in our house with a bare bones selection of borrowed furniture plus a  thousand pounds of our own household goods—which has to include clothing, dishes, flatware, basic cookware, sheets, pillows, blankets, linens, school supplies, and any tools and cleaning supplies we’ll need to get the house in shape for its final inspection.

A thousand pounds goes fast. You have to be selective and anticipate your needs. From experience I know It’s the little things that drive you nuts—reaching for a paperclip, rubber band, emery board, Ziploc bag, pencil eraser, lens cleaner, envelope, or a pair of scissors and realizing you don’t have them. Or longing desperately for an afghan to curl up under at the end of the day or a favorite sweater, jacket, or pair of shoes that was too bulky to be packed in a suitcase and was already shipped.

It will be EIGHT weeks before we catch our plane to Virginia and move into our house there. Eight weeks of living out of a suitcase, without a car. So I have to think big and think small and make smart choices, not just in terms of being practical but also in staying comfortable from now until mid-March.

Wish me luck!

January 8, 2008