Veggie Spaceship

When one has found it impossible to find the time to blog for six months it is rather daunting to know where to start. But, I need to record for posterity a moment from this evening's meleé.

We are daddyless for a few days and nights so things are slightly more chaotic and there is 50% more work for a tired, pregnant mother. Thus, by 1900 my spirits  were flagging and my sense of humor waning. As I tried to get the dishwasher started, an excited 3.5-year-old made off excitedly with something dirty from the bottom rack. His eager 2-year-old sidekick ran off down the hallway after him. Like I said, my sense of humor was gone, so I stalked after them demanding to know what they had. When I made it to the back bedroom, where they play with a large wooden castle and knights, I saw our vegetable steamer basket landing as if from space and unloading little plastic passengers onto the medieval grounds. I smiled in spite of myself and gave thanks for living in a home where vegetable steamer baskets become UFOs.

Soccer Cinderella

I got home at 12:45 AM last night. I am within 24 hours of the most incredible sport spectacle I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing live.  A friend offered me the opportunity to use one of their tickets to go to the Women's World Cup Final (USA v. Japan) in Frankfurt.

Immediately the rational, sensible, mother-of-seven-years-side of me went into gear. Kick-off wasn't until 20:45, Ethan is away and I have three children... I couldn't go! Fortunately, the passionate, soccer-loving side of me overrode that, and I committed to making it work. Sitter, check. Homemade shirt and obnoxious hat, check. Good friends to get me to the stadium and back, check. I did it. I spent seven of the fastest hours of my life, supporting our ladies in the middle of our adopted German homeland. 
The soccer was inspiring, the fans were committed, the international fervor and yet mutual respect were something to behold. There I sat, in the heart of old Europe, watching a team from the Pacific Rim play their hearts out against our New World soccer standard-bearing women. I enjoyed an organic bratwurst with mustard, while I watched women in beautiful Japanese kimonos settle into the seats around me with their classy-but-passionate excitement. I saw plenty of facepainted U.S. bellies, heck, I wore a homemade shirt and light-up Uncle Sam hat myself.

What a year to have this experience. The women on that field were my peers. Some my exact same age. I played some highish level soccer in both California and the D.C.-area for 12 years. I know the level of time and energy required to be a competitive soccer player, and the level at which these women play is simply exhilarating. Furthermore, there was national character being displayed on that field. The U.S. women were persistent and fierce, but the Japanese were focused and efficient. The timing of the Japanese goals (within ten minutes after each U.S. goal) alone earned them the penalty kick shoot-out which gave them the title.  Seeing three subsequent penalty shots stopped by the diminutive Japanese keeper was almost surreal. The celebration of the Japanese team as they were showered with golden glitter was  genuine, intense and classy. Several of them formed a small circle and bowed low to the perfect green grass, honoring Buddha, presumably, but someone other than themselves assuredly. As we stayed, transfixed by the spectacle, after the cup had been handed out. The Japanese women put the trophy down, and picked up a large banner which read "Thank you to our fans in Japan and around the World" in English and proceeded painstakingly around the perimeter of the field so that we all got to see.

The night was magical, I was never once embarrassed of my blinking Uncle Sam hat, but I also learned a great deal about Japanese culture and values, simply from watching a 120 minute football match with them. When I came home to my apartment to send my spouse a quick note, the Yahoo homepage blared, "Japan wins World Cup when US falls apart in penalty kicks". Well, I am so glad I was physically present, because I know that that is not at all what happened. Rather, a group of inspired, diligent women, brought home a golden trophy that they deserve to guard on their national soil until 2015 in Canada. Then the U.S. women can have another shot at it, and I hope to be there again. What a night.

Gush

St. Goar

This is one of those pictures that just makes me take a step back and think, "oh, man, we are really living in Europe. Look at those kids meandering through a 13th century castle like it is an ordinary day."  It was really warm today, but we enjoyed exploring the quaint main street of St. Goar, on the banks of the Rhine River, as well as walking all around the Rheinfels Castle. There were amazing tunnels underneath the entire castle, but they got so dark that we were afraid to go too far without a flashlight. Next time we go back, we will surely bring one.

Heidelberg

Auntie Quinn Final Summer

I am not sure how my 23-year-old, fashionable, hip younger sister earned the moniker "Auntie" - I think it is the absurdity of the title being applied to someone like her that makes it so perfect.

Well, Quinn will graduate from Humboldt State University in December and enter the real world. She honored us by spending three weeks of the last summer of her life checking out our "real world". Here she is on her first morning (no jet lag allowed in this little apartment - ha!) here drinking smoothies in a tent with her niece and nephews.

Viv and her violin

Today was her recital, it made me cry.