I really meant to do this a long time ago.

Here we have six weeks (in my streaky mirror at home in the bathroom) and 26 weeks (in DC on Labor Day). I really should have been more mindful of the wrinkles in the six-weeks shot, as it makes me look rather poochy. I could have done five weeks instead; it's a smoother silhouette, but I'm not wearing the pink tank top and also I liked the parallels of 6 and 26. I'm weird like that.

*Today is 31 weeks, 5 days. 31 was also Bo Hart's number the year I worked for the Redbirds. Ah, good times. Anyway, getting back to my point, I have photos from my baby shower over the weekend but I haven't uploaded them yet. Hopefully I will do so this weekend, but based on my track record, I might not post them until the baby's here...

Posted by Molly at 9:44 AM EDT

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I love Tom Glavine. I know this comes as no surprise to anyone, but that Atlanta uniform, #47, it makes me like baseball again. Not that I stopped liking it, exactly, but it had lost its magic.

Which brings me to my next point.

+++++

Posted by Molly at 2:32 PM EDT

Updated: Thu 03/09/2023 9:24 AM EST

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My mom and I went shoe-shopping on Saturday. You see, when I went shopping with Marcy on Good Friday, I had seen this pair of shoes that just screamed my name. However, being good-budgeting-Molly, I decided that I had enough similar shoes (that had screamed my name in the past), and I didn't buy the shoes. Then, last week, it was a really nice day and I went to grab some of my cute similar shoes out of the closet, and that is when I realized that when the puppy got into my closet that one time, he actually got his paws (by which I mean teeth) on FOUR pairs of shoes instead of two as I had originally thought. I am having some trouble adjusting to the puppy (I am slowly realizing that it is quite likely that I will never really love him, just tolerate him) so I decided to have some shop therapy and buy the shoes.

Then I saw another pair, and another, and before you know it, I was grabbing the huge mesh bag that DSW provides, because Mom had two pairs, too. It was a successful day. Also, it makes me miss living in civilization. I always thought I would do okay as a country sort, and I would, if only the country had a Target within five miles. And if that Target had a Starbucks. I had neither of these things within 20 miles of me now. It is awful.

Anyway, we were shopping at the DSW by New Hope Commons (if anyone local reads my blog), where I used to go all the time with my best friend Kristen when we were in high school, because that dark time was before the evil Southpoint was built. (Just kidding, I love Southpoint. Not its parking but hey, whatever.) No one really goes to New Hope Commons anymore, unless they are going to Wal-Mart. But across the street, there is another shopping center, newer, with a DSW and a Kohl's and a Panera. (I love Panera.) So when we stopped at the Barnes & Noble at New Hope, it was for the first time in a very long time. (B&N's at Brier Creek and Southpoint, y'know.) We were basically finishing up there, because you know how I love my sweet coffee drinks. We headed over to the cafe. There was the cashier, the barista, and someone else stocking the bake case. There were a couple of people ahead of us in line. And the cashier was bitching and moaning. She didn't have anyone to close. Waah. She wasn't going to be able to leave on time. Waah. You know, I am all about bitching about work, but you don't do that in front of customers. And then, when it was our turn, she was STILL bitching, and she was whining about her evening being ruined so that she was not only downright rude to us, but also screwed up my drink. I asked for a non-fat mocha. She didn't give me nonfat. I would have complained because she was such a bitch about it, except it was so damn good. I don't know why I even try to eat well/count calories. Where does it get me? Nowhere. *Sigh.*

The right drink, from my course on Thursday.

Posted by Molly at 4:59 PM EDT

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Yesterday I attended a course entitled “Presenting Data and Information.” Let’s call the presenter “Edward Tufte” because … that is his name (™ Bridget Jones). I should start with a disclaimer of sorts: I actually thought this course was interesting and possibly useful. Now, onto the fun stuff, a timeline of the day’s events!

8:05 a.m. – Leave house for ridiculously long drive; course is located near previous apartment, far from current residence in east bumfuck.

8:35 a.m. – Realize that exit for local shopping center is coming up, local shopping center that contains Starbucks.

8:36 a.m. – Decide against taking exit; company may not want to pay for coffee since already ate breakfast at home.

8:42 a.m. – Almost to course’s location. Realize that right turn will take me to Harris Teeter that contains Starbucks. Ponder situation at red light.

8:43 a.m. – Decide against turning right to Starbucks.

8:48 a.m. – Right turn: course. Left turn: Starbucks. Decide to turn right. Wish had not moved to east bumfuck as used to live in Starbucks heaven.

8:50 a.m. – Miss turnoff for course on badly marked road. Next turn will take me to Starbucks.

8:51 a.m. – Starbucks, here I come.

8:55 a.m. – Arrive Starbucks.

8:56 a.m. – Depart Starbucks with tall decaf nonfat no-whip mocha. (Tall because it is on company card, decaf in honor of Babywatch ’08, nonfat, no-whip in honor of Workout watch ’08.)

8:57 a.m. – Spill Starbucks down front of sweater. Sigh. At least have cardigan to hide unsightly coffee stain.

9:05 a.m. – Arrive at course. Parking lot is full, but field next to lot is apparently the place to be. Register and sit down to do pre-reading and enjoy the rest of my mocha.

9:41 a.m. – Course, supposed to start at 10, is becoming quite full. Blonde woman comes up to my row (third from back, end seat), says to guy next to me, “Want some company?” What about me, I seethe privately, I don’t want any company.

9:59 a.m. – Unwelcome neighbor whacks elbow with coursebook. Seems unconcerned. Seethe privately.

10:02 a.m. – Course starts with presentation featuring a visual display of a Chopin melody. Think: “Ooh, it’s like guitar hero!”

10:25 a.m. – Realize ET is reading directly from his book.

10:26 a.m. – Ha! “ET”!

10:30 a.m. – ET announces, “If you parked across the street, you’re screwed. Go move your car.” Half of section slinks out.

10:35 a.m. – ET promises shorter meetings if follow his protocol. Think: “Buddy, you don’t know [evil empire].”

11:00 a.m. – Hmm. There was some indication of box lunch outside. It would be easier to just get that, but Neomonde is so close, and would be so much better. Is Neomonde open? It didn’t look open when I drove by on the way here.

11:25 a.m. – Ooh, he said sports data. You know, I think there’s a Spring Training game televised today. Stupid Japan game. They can’t start the season overseas. It’s America’s game!

11:26 a.m. – ET utters the words that will make me question everything else he says: “If the people who read the sports section can understand a chart, then anyone can.” I don’t think I like what he’s implying. Hmph.

11:30 a.m. – This place is a ballroom? Do people actually use it as such? It’s awful, industrial, bad paint job, hey, there’s a splotch of paint missing on that pillar. Whoa, there’s a temporary wall partition they can use. C L A S S Y. And just look at that switchplate…

11:31 a.m. – Crap. Lunch isn’t until 1.

11:35 a.m.-11:57 a.m. – Break. Overheard in coffee line, “What is this line for? Where are the informative graphics?” Only free stuff provided at course is water, coffee, tea, crackers and chocolaty-chip cookies. Return to find unwelcome neighbor standing behind MY chair, swaying.

12:10 p.m. – Maybe I could change my Flickr page so that it is just favorites, since I am too cheap to actually pay for a subscription.

12:13 p.m. – Consider perils of visiting ATM in Durham after course is over.

12:35 p.m. – ET’s minion brings around his 400-year-old copy of Euclidean geometry book. Notice that when ET displayed book, he held it in his hands; however minion has on white gloves.

12:45 p.m. – FOOD FOOD FOOD FOOD FOOD

12:57 p.m. – Minion is back, this time with book by Galileo, from 1613.

1:04 p.m. – Decide on title for next installment of autobiographical novel: “Molly’s Last Adventures as a Single Girl”

1:20 p.m. – Finally, lunch! Box lunch at course contains barbecue and banana pudding for $8. Box lunch at Neomonde consists of hoummous sandwich, tabbouleh and fatoush with a piece of baklava for $8. Much better. Coming back, notice that sign in parking lot reads, “Lot Full – Use Adjacent Lots.” Just not the adjacent lots across the street, huh.

2:23 p.m. – Lunch runs long as ET is signing autographs. Unwelcome neighbor and her neighbor are having discussion on diving. Text message Nancy and Sarah.

3:06 p.m. – Notice unwelcome neighbor has folder labeled “Latino Communications.”

3:15 p.m. – ET announces, “If you parked in the street, please move. The police are in the process of shooting your car.”

3:20 p.m. – ET announces, “Now the fire marshal is here. Some of you were very creative with your parking. Stay tuned.” He probably means the people who blocked others in. C L A S S Y.

3:23 p.m. – Distracted by baseball sparklines, looking ahead in book.

3:29 p.m. – Distracted by sparkliness of my new wedding band.

3:40 p.m. – Bored now.

3:41 p.m. – Wonder if could gather books quietly and sneak out, thus avoiding sure-to-be-horrible traffic at end of course.

3:49 p.m. – Ooh, the windows in that engraving look like cinnamon rolls!

3:58 p.m. – ET announces, “If you are the driver of the Saturn Vue, license plate number xxx-xxxx, please move your car – you’re blocking someone.”

4:22 p.m. – Natives are VERY restless. Leaving early would be rude, but, damn, parking!

4:24 p.m. – ET says, “The best advice I ever received on making a presentation was to arrive early. The second best was to finish early.” But … we only have six minutes left and he’s not done talking?

4:29 p.m. – ET finishes early, barely.

4:37 p.m. – In car. Parking lot is nightmare. Traffic nearing rush hour is nightmare.

5:39 p.m. – Arrive back home in east bumfuck. Have put 71 miles on car. Do you know how much gas costs?  

Posted by Molly at 4:51 PM EDT

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Atonement: I borrowed this book from a friend who had seen the movie and was sort of curious about the book (but hasn't read it yet). I heard the movie had a happy ending that was not present in the book, and I like happy endings, so there was already a strike against it. I started this one night when there was nothing on TV. I got about 11 pages in. I hated it. The writing was just way too heavy and heavy-handed. Last weekend, I picked up the book again. I had a couple days off for Easter and had ordered some books from Amazon but they hadn’t yet arrived. Anyway, the book got better, but my hatred for the main character (I think I can call her that) grew and grew and grew. Finally I finished Part One and skipped ahead to the end so I could be finished with the damn thing once and for all. Then I read “Mystery at the Ski Jump.” Much better.

Jennifer Weiner: I picked up Good in Bed when it came out, thought it was a good summer read, and passed it on to my mom. Then it took on a life of its own as she passed it to her sister, who then passed it to her whole book club, and everyone loved it. And, bonus, the author seemed really cool, and she wasn’t skinny and blonde, and, wow, this was perfect. So it was with much anticipation that I read In Her Shoes. And it was okay, I guess. I tried to pass it on to my mom, but she’d already read it from the library, and she didn’t want it. It remained on my shelf for a while, and then I noticed that Jennifer Weiner had a new book out, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to spend money on it. Then the movie version of In Her Shoes came out and I flat-out HATED it. A little while after that, I saw Little Earthquakes on clearance at the bookstore where I worked, and clearance + employee discount convinced me to try it out. LOVED IT. I still read it over and over. I was so happy; I thought In Her Shoes was just an unfortunate blip, and maybe it was me – lots of other people liked it. Goodnight Nobody followed, and, another clearance find, I bought and liked it as well. We were on a winning streak. By the time The Guy Not Taken came out, I was no longer working in the bookstore, but my mom offered to buy it for me on one of those mother-daughter shopping trips that I so love. I had such high hopes, and then the first story was a big let-down. And then the second story followed the same people from the first story. And then the third story was the same people, oh my God, will it ever end? Finally they were done, but the rest of the stories were just not that good. Still, I had the book, and so it sat on the shelf until last weekend when (as mentioned above) I had some time that I wanted to devote to reading. And I ran into the same problem. I just don’t like these stories. So now I am not sure what to do. Do I want to buy the next book? Or just write it off? (I am sure I will at least read it. I will try to buy it used or get it from the library or something. But it’s unsettling. How can some of the novels be so good, and some so … not-good?)

I Am Legend: James wanted to watch it. I had nothing better to do so I watched with him. I seem to recall a bunch of people talking about Tom Hanks carrying the whole movie in Castaway because it was him and the volleyball. Same thing here. I don’t know, it was kind of boring. And then these rabid vampire creatures? Weird. James is going to buy the movie. I am never going to watch it again.

Babywatch ’08: So this whole not-trying-not-to-get-pregnant is interesting. I can’t say “trying to get pregnant” because I really really really dislike failing. If I were actually trying to get pregnant, then every period would be a failure. But if I am just not actively preventing pregnancy, then whatever happens, happens. (See how pathetic I can be when I try to convince myself of things?) The last time I spoke of this, I mentioned that I was not really paying attention to these TTC things, I was not charting, blah blah blah. Well, right after that, I went out and bought a BBT thermometer. I am sure I could just have bought a digital thermometer but, you know, I like to go all out. That was on Valentine’s Day. I was also on Day 11 of my normally 35-day cycle. (If you don’t know what I am talking about, just stop reading now. Or google it.) So, AF was due on March 10. Which came and went, and there was no signs of impending menstruation. However, being the good little first-time charter, I noted that there was no temperature rise, and therefore I probably hadn’t ovulated, and OH MY GOD WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? Once my period was eight days late, I went over to the dollar store and bought a pregnancy test. I didn’t want to take it. I didn’t think I was pregnant, but confirming it would be – you guessed it – a failure. Predictably, it was negative. Promptly after that, my temperatures rose. Now I am assuming that I am at 6 DPO. This is too early to know anything, really. The whole problem I have is that now is not a good time to get pregnant. We can’t afford it. But is there ever a good time? Can we ever afford it? Can I be a stay-at-home-mom? Do I want to be? And then on top of all that, just thinking about it is weird – there is this two-week wait where you are in limbo. Did the sperm meet the egg? Is this little four-celled organism floating along my fallopian tube? Is this month already a bust and I don’t know it? Can I drink that cup of coffee? Because now that Lent is over, I don’t even have to feel guilty about it anymore. Blargh!   

The Great Workout Plan ’08: Hahaha. I wish it was okay to be fat. You know, everybody tells you about the Freshman 15, but I was already a fat kid then so it didn’t really matter much. But then I did Tae-Bo and jogged an entire summer away and suddenly I could fit into regular sizes. This continued during my time in Houston, when I lived by a lovely park with a lovely three-mile running train, and into Memphis, where my apartment complex had a running trail, and I had motivation and a job that required me to be on my feet constantly and running up and down three flights of stairs regularly. I was even okay after I moved back to Durham because at the bookstore I was constantly running around helping hapless customers. It all started to go downhill when I got my current job with the evil empire. First I started eating crap food because I was working 60 hours a week, with a 30-minute commute in between two jobs, and it sucked. Then, I got a full-time gig at the desk job, which meant 40 sedentary hours a week. But I was still working part-time at the bookstore so the crap food continued. Until I got sick of the bookstore and quit the job but kept eating the crap food. Then it was Thanksgiving and then Christmas and then I met James, and we ate out a lot, and then we got married and now, getting back to my point, NO ONE TELLS YOU ABOUT THE MARRIAGE 15. Everyone nods, wisely, when you ask: oh yes, that happens to everyone. BUT NO ONE TELLS YOU BEFOREHAND. I have stopped the gain, but I cannot manage to make the scale go in the other direction. First I tried the Couch Potato to 5K running plan. This was going okay for about a month, but then it was Thanksgiving, and then Christmas – oh, you’ve heard this song before? – and oh by the way, we bought a house. Then, in February, I set out with renewed interest to work out, but after three weeks of trying to cut carbs and work out – Tae-Bo, walking, resistance bands – with no discernible effect, I got discouraged, and then it was Easter with the Reese’s peanut butter eggs, and that brings us to today. It is just that I love food and hate working out. Back to the grind. I hear Billy Blanks calling. I hate that man.

Unrelated non-review note: Happy Birthday Tom Glavine!

My brother turned 22 on Saturday. (Elvis Stojko turned 36! And it was also Boob Costas's birthday, I think.) A bunch of us went to a pub in Raleigh to celebrate. Featured here are Kevin and I and the remains of his Irish Car Bomb.

Posted by Molly at 3:48 PM EDT

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After another traditional breakfast of hard-boiled eggs, breads and Nutella (!), Anke and Volkmar took us to Heidelberg, 94 km and about an hour south of Frankfurt. Heidelberg is on the Neckar River, and as we walked along said river, I saw the European headquarters of the company my mom works for. Upon my return, I told her she needed to put in for a transfer, because the office featured a view across the river of the Heidelberger Schloss, which is set off from town on the Königstuhl hill in the Odenwald Mountains. (Did I know that name until just now when I looked on Wikipedia? No, I did not.) We headed over to the castle and took the guided tour. I especially enjoyed the wine cellar. Also noteworthy is the Deutsches Apotheken Museum (German Museum of Pharmacy) located on the grounds. This is noteworthy because my dad is a pharmacist. I probably wouldn’t have checked it out otherwise, but it was actually kind of neat. (Don’t tell Dad I said so.)

Following the castle tour, we went to lunch at the Palmbräu Gasse. I wish I could tell you what I ate there, but I actually have no idea. I only know that’s where we went because I saved the coaster. We also have a picture of me and Lisa and Anke there, but I don’t think I would have been able to identify the restaurant from that alone. The Palmbräu Gasse is located on the main street (Hauptstraße) of Heidelberg, right near a shopping district, which was at the time hosting their Christmas Market Weihnachtsmarkt. So we went into some of the shops and checked out the Weihnachtsmarkt and it was about this time that I began to regret my choice of footwear.

You see, because we were traveling the Rick Steves way, which is, say, minimalistic, I had two pairs of shoes with me (well, three if you count my flip flops, which I don’t, since they were shower shoes for the hostel that we’ll get to later) – a pair of loafers with probably a 2.5-inch heel and a pair of wellies. Both clearance, the loafers one of my favorite pairs of shoes ever and, I thought, comfortable enough to walk long distances in. The wellies were a more recent clearance purchase that I had not yet tried out. You see where this is going. Ahh, hindsight. Anyway, I was wearing the loafers and my feet began to ache.

No big deal, though, because we were headed back to Frankfurt. The moon was beginning to rise over the bridge in Heidelberg and we stopped to snap a few pics, but only a few, because it was getting quite cold. 

I was going to say we took the autobahn to Frankfurt but then I realized I used that for Day 2. It’s entirely possible that we took the same highway twice; but I think Day 3 is the one for which I have photographic evidence.

Posted by Molly at 12:01 AM EST

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We awakened rested and refreshed in Ibbenbüren, Germany, and sat down to a traditional home-cooked Germany breakfast that featured breads, hard-boiled eggs and the greatest creation of all time, Nutella. Bright and early we set off to explore the nearby town of Tecklenburg. I am not entirely sure why, but it was nice and picturesque. There was a tower, an outdoor theatre and several shops. That is about all I remember about Tecklenburg.

We then set off to Cologne, approximately 185 km and almost two hours from Tecklenburg. On the way, Anke pulled out some divine lebkuchen. Upon arrival in Cologne, we set out for the Cathedral, known in German as the Kölner Dom (or, wikipedia tells me, Hohe Domkirche St. Peter und Maria). Wait, I should document that before that I had my first experience with a European pay toilet. I am sure the Germans laughed at my touristy self. Anyway, the Cathedral is quite impressive. They have a spire in the courtyard so you can see just how big they are up close. There was scaffolding over a section of the facade, apparently some portion is always being renovated, which is not that surprising given that construction on the dom was from 1248-1880.

The two things that stuck with me from the inside of the church (the nave, but that's getting just a little too Catholic for me here) were the Shrine of the Three Kings (I didn't know what it was at the time, just that it looked cool) and the Crucifix of Bishop Gero, which I remembered as the oldest cross left in Europe but which wikipedia tells me "is the oldest large crucifix north of the Alps and the earliest-known large free-standing Northern sculpture of the medieval period." Still pretty good. I also took pictures of the insane tile work on the floor and the Mailänder Madonna, which name I also did not know until I started looking stuff up for this travelogue. (I know! I'll do better next time.)

We then proceeded up the cathedral's 509 stairs to the viewing platform. These stairs are similar to the stairs going up to the Statue of Liberty's head, and both made me slightly nauseous. As it turns out, I don't do well with spiral staircases in dark and cramped quarters. We took lots of pictures, including pictures of the Christmas Market in the square below the cathedral and pictures of the Rhine (Rhein?) River. Then it was back down to street level, where I enjoyed a bratwurst. Yummy!

Then it was on to the Imhoff-Stollwerck Schokoladenmuseum, which, if I remember correctly, was within walking distance. Also very near to the Rhein River. I believe someone mentioned the words "chocolate museum" and then I insisted that we go. You got a little bar of milk chocolate when you paid admission for the (self-guided) tour, and then they had a lady who was dipping wafers into the chocolate fountain.

It was evening by the time we finished at the chocolate museum, and here is where my memory gets fuzzy, because I know we did certain things but I just cannot figure out the timeline so that it makes sense, but I think we then got back in the car and drove to Frankfurt, which is 194 km and about two hours from Cologne. Anke's sister, whose name I cannot for the life of me remember, her husband, Gerhard, and their son Lukas, lived in Frankfurt, and we were going to (all) stay with them. I think Anke mentioned that she could do this because the work schedules in Germany rock and the U.S. sucks. (I may be paraphrasing slightly.) 

We took the autobahn to Frankfurt and I remember thinking that it was a good thing I didn't have to drive it, because you are going so fast that you have to pay attention to the cars two miles ahead of you in order to brake in time, and I just don't have that good of an attention span. Once we arrived in Frankfurt, we had a meal at Anke's sister's house. Everyone had a little bowl, and you filled it with ... fillings, stuff like meat (I thought of my mom cautioning me not to eat the European meat so as to avoid mad cow) and potatoes and veggies and then you topped it off with cheese and then cooked it on this big cookspace, but everybody had their own individual serving. It was cool. And then Gerhard brought out the Black Forest schnapps brewed by one of his Black Forest relatives. 

And that is all I remember of Day 2.     

Posted by Molly at 12:01 AM EST

Updated: Thu 02/28/2008 4:36 PM EST

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So, you may have noticed that I have been silent since I announced my plans to write up a travelogue of my European vacation. I have the timeline in place. The problem, and probably the reason I never did this before, is that writing up a travelogue is quite time-consuming. If I could while away hours at work writing a travelogue, well, that would be one thing. But I actually have to ... work at work, so that doesn't really work.

Anyway. I will start now.

+++++

Usually I am the one planning a trip. Usually it is a short trip, because usually I am broke. However, this time was different. This was a Big European Trip, featuring International Travel. And my parents had given me the airfare as a gift. (This was very nice but I feel I should point out that when my brother went to Europe they not only paid his airfare but also gave him a credit card to use while he was there.) And Lisa was planning it. While this made me much more relaxed, it also made me less connected. She knew people who we were going to visit, relatives and girls her family had hosted as exchange students. She had mapped the itinerary, had based it on Rick Steves books after taking a Rick Steves tour the year before. All I wanted to do was tour the Heineken factory in Amsterdam and the salt mines in Salzburg. And I wanted an authentic sachertorte in Vienna. Also my brother had been to Jungfrau – “the top of Europe” and no way was I going to let him beat me, so I either suggested or enthusiastically agreed to go there as well.

Anyway, it was pretty much anything goes with me. I was just happy to be doing some international travel. My vacation started on a Sunday afternoon when I convinced one of my Redbirds co-workers to drive me to the airport. I walked into the godforsaken Memphis airport and, of course, my flight was delayed. Thunderstorms. I had to connect in Houston, where I was meeting Lisa, and I had 40 minutes to make the connection. So when I saw the delay, I was slightly concerned. I made the connection, having the distinction of being one of the last people on the plane to Amsterdam. The flight from Houston to Amsterdam is not particularly long as transatlantic flights go, and we had the bulkhead seats (I think that's what they're called -- the ones right behind the barrier to first class) but it was miserable. I could not get comfortable. I could not sleep. We had dinner on the plane; I did not have the foresight to note what it was, but I remember it was much better than domestic fare. The movies were Little Black Book and Without a Paddle, which I have never heard of before or since.

We arrived in Amsterdam in the morning. The flight was scheduled to arrive at 8:05 a.m. local time and it was more or less on time. 8:05 a.m. in Amsterdam is 1:05 a.m. Houston/Memphis time, so you can just imagine how I felt. The Schiphol airport was festively decorated for the holiday season and not-so-festively full of cigarette smoke. We made our way to baggage claim. Lisa's bag came up fairly quickly. Mine did not. I started to think about how I was practically the last person on the plane. My travel budget did not include a new wardrobe. My bag popped up finally -- the last one off the plane. We made our way through immigration and into the Arrivals hall. We were to be picked up by Anke, a former exchange student Lisa's family had hosted. Except we had no idea how to reach her. We wandered about. We wandered about some more. Through some miracle, we managed to meet up eventually. Before we left the airport, she informed me that the Heineken factory was closed on Mondays. Or something. I was not pleased.

We drove into the city. It was a nice day, partly cloudy and cool, with a few sprinkles in the area. We parked at a garage somewhere near the VanGogh Museum, because Lisa is cultured and likes museums like that. I stopped at an ATM to withdraw euros and lost five years of my life when the ATM nearly ate my card. It returned it with a crimp in the side, however, and I did not have to freak out entirely. Before heading to the museum, we had lunch in a local pancake house, complete with cats walking around the restaurant. We walked along canals and saw houseboats and tulips and clogs that I was tempted to buy but resisted. The museum was actually really cool; it traces Van Gogh's life chronologically through paintings, but by the third floor, I was about done in by the jet lag. When we left, we adventurously took a different route back to the parking deck and promptly got lost in a local park.

Many of the houses in Amsterdam are row houses and are surrounded by other houses. Most of them have at least three or four stories. Lots of these have little window-type things up by the roofline with a winch sort of thing and a pulley; we surmised this is how people get their couches from the canal to the living room. And the bikes! People were crazy on bikes, no regards for pedestrians or traffic laws. I think I nearly lost a hand to a whizzing cyclist.

I would have loved to spend more time in the Netherlands, because, again, I wanted to tour the damn Heineken factory, and also because having read "Girl With a Pearl Earring," I would have voted to check out the Rijksmuseum and/or Delft to see works by Vermeer. Oh well, another time. (One hopes.)

Once we reached the car, Anke drove us back to her house in Ibbenbüren, Germany, which is 219 km and about two hours west of Amsterdam. I marked the border crossing into Germany by drooling on myself while sleeping, or some such similar activity. At Anke's house, we met her husband, Volkmar, and their dog, Buffy. Anke and Volkmar lived in the left half of the house, and Anke's parents lived in the right half, which was "next door" because it had a separate entrance.  Anke insisted that we call home to let our parents know we had arrived safely. We got a tour of their house, which had very modern bathrooms and showers (which we used judiciously but which I am not sure were used very often otherwise) and these cool outdoor shutters which are controlled from the inside and block every single bit of light from outside. Fabulous for sleeping.

And then we slept.

Posted by Molly at 9:25 PM EST

Updated: Wed 02/27/2008 3:55 PM EST

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