Tom + Katie try to culture it up

The Amsterdam weather has been fantastic -- sunny and 80ish for more than a week -- and once again I am reminded how well the Dutch do warm weather. Everyone leaves their rooms and embraces the sun, mostly without proper sunscreen. The canals were filled with boats, sidewalks in front of apartment buildings were filled with families and friends having dinner al fresco, and I was schooled how to use parks for proper picnics and birthday parties. Lots of lazing in the grass eating fantastic food and the happiest dog in the world.

On Sunday Tom and I went to the Art Amsterdam 2008 show at the RAI (in the south), which featured the latest in international contemporary art from 125 galleries. It was a great way to see such disparate work, as there wasn't the intimidation of going into actual galleries and there was a sense that you could discover something cool before a museum or highbrow collector did. And there were plenty of collectors around, which made the people watching freakishly great.

Some favorites:
Patrick Bergsma - Dutch artist who uses iconic Dutch motifs with great humor and affection

Klaas Gubbels, Door Vermeer, 1993, olieverf op doek, 70 x 80 cm

Klaas Gubbels - my affection may be influenced by the fact that he was in the space, signing books. I stood on the edge of the crowd that was gathered, watching him, and when I turned around, the expression on my face caused Tom to say, "You are such a goon. So excited to see a real life artist!"

Robert De keersmaeker - Dutch realist painter with a charming eye

Susanna Majuri, Farevil Kanal, 2005

Susanna Majuri - Finnish photographer

Kresten Havgaard, Uden titel, 2005, Olie på lærred, 67x92 cm

Kresten Havgaard - Danish painter in the best Motherwell vein

This show happens once a year for four days and was one of the best things I have done since moving here. So great that we were inspired to buy a piece of our own by Rotterdam artists SCHILTE & PORTIELJE. Though I can't download the image, you can see some of their work on at the Van Wijngaarden Hakkens gallery site. We felt quite fancy.

Summer Lovin' Amsterdam Style

The 100m Stiletto Sprint (this photo from Flicker)

I survived my second Queen's Day last week, celebrating in orange style with friends and a massive influx of Dutchies for a Day. The night before QD, is the Drag Queen Olympics at the Homomonument and it was fabulous. I learned one important fact: never photograph a drag queen from below when they are hurling a handbag. It just isn't fair.

A handbag toss from below. I apologize.

The next morning I got up and did a bit of shopping on the streets. No Frank doll like last year, but I found a set of walnut, glass-topped stacking tables and some pieces of the West German pottery that I like. Then we donned our orange garb and boarded a boat with lots of people from W+K for a four hour tour around the canals. Tom's orange knickers were a bit hit (though you have to be careful who you say knickers to, as it also means underwear).


And after the boat we went back into the streets to soak in some mayhem.


In the days following, the sun came out and the temps soared, so I assembled the patio furniture and opened up the roof terrace for the inaugural BBQ and cinco de mayo celebration. It rocked. The sun rocks.

This week I spent lots of time in the park with the dog and starting to get ready for the trip to Portland and New York: hair cut, facial, work stuff, finding a dog walker, etc. I can't believe I will be there for three whole weeks. So excited!

The most trivial post ever.

It has been a busy week of job interviews, afternoon trips to IKEA, long walks in the sunshine with the Beets, blogging on Smiling Magpie and finding some kick ass vintage pieces in hot pink and orange cotton print. After my initial post-job loss moping, now I am trying to take advantage of every minute of free time with a giant smile on my face. All is good.

During my dog walks, I have lots of time to think about important things like how to conjugate "to be" in Dutch and my definitive list of iconic hairstyles that I have tried over the years.


1. Louise Brooks - the short bob. This would have been the perfect cut for me if I didn't have giant cowlicks that kept the bangs from hanging straight. Instead of being sleek flapper girl, I looked like I was growing horns. #4 - same problem. Once, after an ill-advised perm in the 80s, I learned that, with this cut, I bear a striking resemblance to a mushroom cap.

2. Mia Farrow - the short cropped 'do in Rosemary's Baby. I had this cut in the early 90s and if I ever tell you that it was my attempt to be part of the whole Riot Grrl thing, I am lying to you. I was actually attempting to look like a Giorgio Armani ad. It didn't work.

3. Nana Mouskouri/Marlo Thomas hybrid - the parted in the middle, shoulder length, no bangs style that had more bounce (read: class) than it's Lori Partridge/Marcia Brady counterpart. This tells the world that you do not wear cut off shorts, drop acid or fancy men with feathered hair. Can also be parted on the side and held with a barrette in order to look vaguely French.

4. Bettie Page - short Frankenstein bangs are key. Very few people look good with this haircut, but its a requirement if you ever want to take swing dance lessons, wear "Emily Strange" clothes after 17 or dye your hair pitch black. All of which I have done.

5. The Darren Star girls: Kelly Taylor ("Beverly Hills 90210" season 6) and Jane Mancini ("Melrose Place" seasons 1 & 2) - short blond hair with many bobby pins (predating another Darren Star girl, Carrie Bradshaw, who also seemed overly fond of said pins). The short hair was just the thing when one was battling cocaine addiction with one's artist boyfriend (Kelly) or dealing with one's fillandering doctor husband while living in an incestuous apartment building filled with obnoxious advertising execs (Jane). Of course my love of this hair is clearly derived from my first hair icon: Dorothy Hamill.

I have given each of these styles repeated tries, but nothing really worked for me and my cowlicks until I moved to Amsterdam and found Franc. He looks at me and says, "Zo. Vat should I do today?" I tell him this and that and then he proceeds to give me the exact same cut every time. And even though I get pissed that he ignores me, Franc does know best. He found my perfect haircut: the *(&W)!) Shag.

The hair of the Bay City Rollers, Leather Tuscadero, Carol Brady in the final two seasons of "The Brady Bunch" and countless JCPenny catalog models from 1976 is my best look. Who would have thunk it? Though this may be the most trivial of all blog entries ever, I felt the need to share because there is a good chance that when I get off the plane in Portland in a few weeks, I may look like this:


I thought you should know. But if British comedians (like Noel Fielding of the hilarious "Mighty Boosh", above) are rocking the modern shag, at least I know I am in stellar company. Because we all know that British comedians lead the parade of hair trends. Don't you all remember the Dudley Moore curly mullet in "10?" The balding comb-over of John Cleese in everything?

Jeez. This is so vapid I need to go plant a tree or fight crime just to redeem myself. Apologies for the trivial rant!

A giant circular journey through my brain

An unforeseen side effect of unemployment is a serious case of writer's block. So, in an attempt to get out of my brain and onto the screen with something worthy of posting, I photographed some house numbers on my morning walk.

Pretty, no? While I was uploading the photos to the computer, I remembered a fabric pattern that I saw on the Marimekko site the other day:

"Summat" pattern by Marjaana Virta

And this reminded me of Jasper Johns. Actually it reminded me of seeing paintings of numbers in art history class and the handy internet led me to Jasper Johns and a nice visit to PBS.

Jasper Johns, Grey Numbers, 1961

And this painting made me realize just how much mid to late 20th century painting influences what I see through the camera. That thought led me back to the last photo I took this morning which sort of brings it all around full circle. Good stuff.


And for more good stuff, visit Smiling Magpie for more information on Marimekko and other bits of shine. This is my new blog where I obsess less about the workings of my brain and more about the funny, cool things I find in my travels around Amsterdam and beyond and the places on the web that sell such things. Please visit and tell me what you think!

I write this for Stacy

**post removed due to overabundance of red-wine fueled sentimentality**

But if you haven't visited my friend Stacy's blog yet, you should. It is funny and fabulous, just like her.

And just like that, Spring is here!

Between Rabito's morning and noon walks, the mini-daisies bloomed in the park up the street. Though I can still see my own breath, this gives me hope that warmer days are on their way.

The universe gives a birthday present

Birthday sparkles at Moeders.

I wrote about being taught the phrase "en 'shallah" when I was in Egypt, but I didn't expand on how valuable the idea "if God wills it" would become in the weeks after I returned back to Amsterdam from holiday.

While I was away, there were several layoffs made in the company, much to everyone's surprise. Long story short, when I returned to the office, I was told that I was being let go as well. Though I worked very, very hard this last year, the job I was doing was a casualty of client changes. There is no way that anyone working in advertising can possibly believe that their job is ever safe with all the variables that come into play in this industry, but it was sad news.

"Guitar Hero," I will miss you most of all!

Fortunately, Tom was hired by a Dutch company when we were in Paris, so he can sponsor me and we can stay in Amsterdam. I don't know what I am going to do yet, but I have some ideas that are kicking around. There is no hurry to find a new job, so I want to make certain that I give this decision the attention it deserves.

Freddie Mercury showing off his Queen's Day crown before we left the office.

Friday was my last day at the office, followed by my birthday on Sunday and tomorrow is Tom's first day at his new office, so there are plenty of changes and celebrations afoot. I found a spot for my Freddie Mercury doll in the apartment (whew!) and was feted in grand style by my friends. And tomorrow Rabito and I will hang out together and figure out our routine.

Matthew and Maureen gave me a set of "Gnarly Teeth," which livens up a dinner like nothing else. How great to have friends willing to ass out in public for the silliness of it all.

My first goal of unemployment will be perfecting the basic crepe. Tom gave me a beautiful pan, but my first foray into crepe-making yielded lumpy batter and alien shapes, so I am going to spend an entire day trying out different recipes and combinations. Tom will come home from work and I will force-feed him 20 crepes while demanding to know every small detail of his day. Or maybe a better idea will be an impromptu afterwork party for my friends where they just stop by and pick up some crepes on their way home. That sounds better. And less crazy.

There is nothing but opportunity waiting for us around the corner, but so much freedom can be a little daunting, especially when work has been the defining aspect to my time here. It will be a different Amsterdam once spring arrives and I will actually get to enjoy it, en 'shallah.

Paris - in pictures

After my return from Egypt, I said farewell to Allison and hopped a train for Paris with Tom and Rabito. We had a lovely time, made all the better by the parental bonus, as my mom and dad were in the city for a few days before leaving on a tour through Italy. I will let the captions tell the story of the trip.

Rabito was a wonder dog on this trip. He slept in our laps on the four hour train ride, walked all over the city with us, sat calmly under restaurant tables and charmed the French ladies with his white boots.

My beautiful mom, at her birthday lunch at the fabulous Le Hangar.

Tom in front of the Louvre. I love this picture.

The waiter said, "Large beer." Tom thought, "What can the French know about large beers? I am from the land of large beers, surely I know better!" Hello hubris? This is beer calling. Je suis très grand.

Bito on the metro.

Tom getting a job and looking suave.

Mom, dad and Tom in the metro tunnel.

Beautiful sky. Beautiful city.

En'shallah

Allison and I were given a beautiful gift on our last day in Egypt. The man who had sold us the snorkel trip with Red Sea Aqua Center on the first beach day would stop by to chat every subsequent day we were there. Kimo was very interested in why an American would live in Europe and was interesting to speak with him about being Egyptian surrounded by tourists on all-inclusive sun holidays. His wife is an Austrian Catholic, which interested Allison, since her boyfriend is Saudi and living in Michigan as his sister's chaperon. Lots of good chats.

Anyway. On our last day, Kimo said, "If you learn one Arabic phrase, it should be this: 'En 'shallah,' which means "If God wills it." You will hear us say this very often in conversation -- whenever we wish or want something to happen, we say this phrase."

Allison and I looked at each other and repeated the phrase to each other. It is indeed the perfect mantra to chant when flying from sun and laughter and sea back to reality and the unknown future. It will be the gift of that trip and I send all my gratitude back to Kimo for sharing it with us.

We managed to stay on the plane all the way to its final destination in Amsterdam that night, which seemed like an accomplishment. Allison was shocked by the inconsideration of the Dutch --- standing in a group in the aisle, talking very loudly about nothing while people all around them are trying to sleep (the flight left at 10:30pm and landed at 3:30am), pushing their way into lines, being generally as they are. My boys greeted me at home with a welcome home sign on the door and lots of tail wagging. What a week -- next year again, but for longer. My only hope is I will have a traveling companion as wonderful, funny, adventurous, smart and entertaining as Allison.

En 'shallah.

Red Sea fishes

After almost a week away from Egypt, my memories are starting to blur together. I will try to capture the last days of our holiday before moving into the next phase of my time off work - ma famille à Paris.

On Monday Alison and I went snorkeling with the Red Sea Aqua Center. We met at their boats right by the resort and headed out around 8:30. For some reason, I have never snorkeled in nice weather, and this day was no exception. It was cloudy and windy, and while it was still shorts weather, it wasn't bask in the bright sun weather. We went to four places to see different fish in different snorkeling conditions -- the first was from Paradise Island, where you walk into the sea and directly into a fairly beaten up reef. The only snorkeling experience I had previously was in Hawaii where the message, "Don't touch the coral! You'll kill it!!" is repeated loudly and often. Here, there are so many tourists from so many places and the ecological aspect of tourism hasn't really sunk in yet, so it took some effort to get out beyond the damage caused by people and see the good fish. Fortunately our guide took a liking to me and led me out to the far reef where I saw a puffer fish (shaped like a box with rounded corners, not unlike many Russians), a giant clam (Rock Lobster!!), a stone fish, a clown fish and many, many other cool fishes.

The Napoleon Fish

The second, third and fourth stops weren't beaches, but spots to jump directly from the boat. We saw a Napoleon fish on the second stop -- it must have been at least three feet long and its lips are huge! The colors of the fish were amazing and the water was crystal clear so visibility was great. At the third stop one of the other guides brought me over to see the Morey eel coming up from the rocky bottom. Huge. Scary. So cool. By the third stop I was free diving down as far as I could along the sides of the reef. I was able to focus on smaller fish this way and look at the patterns created by different sizes and colors of fish all swimming together. Under water paradise -- no apologies for how cheesy that sounds because it really was.

The fourth stop involved jellyfish that were pink and about 6 - 8 inches long. One brushed my neck and caused little prickles on my skin - which didn't hurt as much as freak me out. I can handle swimming with creatures that have eyes and teeth, but give me a eyeless blob and I get out of the water faster than Roy Scheider.

My preference for free diving over snorkeling on top of the reef makes me think that scuba diving may be for me, so I've set it as a goal to get certified before going back to Egypt next year. Spending a day swimming amidst beautiful fish in the Red Sea (hello again Moses!) was special for me. More than once I gave thanks for my life and the crazy bundle of circumstances and choices that got me in that ocean at that moment.

Luxor

When we last left our travelers, they were journeying across the Arabian Desert in a tour bus convoy on their way to Luxor. At Qina, the topography changed dramatically from dry dust to green fields, as the convoy turned left and traveled through the Nile River Valley, along the canal that runs parallel to the river. As the buses pass through villages, all bridges are closed and oncoming traffic must stop, which adds to the whole surreal aspect to the trip and provides some excellent photo opportunities. The largest crop in this part of the valley is sugar cane, which we saw piled on donkey carts, while the robed cart driver waited on the bridge for the tourists to go by. Lot of livestock and houses along the canal -- one dead cow floating in the water -- and lots of life happening there too. Twas cool and reminded me in a strange way of Chama, New Mexico and the people I met there during my two visits for holy week.

Our first stop in Luxor were the Karnak Temples, where I was gobsmacked by the enormity of the buildings, as well as how well preserved the hieroglyphics are. They are so clear and the colors are still in evidence in many places, which surprised me too. These temples are 4000 years old! I can't keep my hair colored for six weeks! Owl figures (hurrah!) are carved into the walls ("M" in hieroglyph), as well as other birds that are instantly recognizable. One part of the temples had some sections devoted to different kinds of birds and other sections devoted to different kinds of plants. These were the original locations of these carvings -- they weren't moved close together later -- so I imagine that this little area was the Audubon book of its time. I really can't do it justice in words. Seeing the huge statues and obelisks and everything else there baking in the sun was fairly amazing. Much different than seeing the same Egyptian treasures in one of many northern museums.

After Karnak Temples we drove through Luxor, which gave us a good view of "real" life; albeit one that depends heavily on tourists. We stopped for lunch and then went on to the Valley of the Kings, a valley in Thebes where the tombs of approximately 63 kings and nobles from the 16th through the 11th century BC are located. We saw two tombs and, again, I was amazed at how detailed the work is and the beauty of the colors. And I loved watching the Russian guy get his camera taken away after he took a photo in one of the tombs, which is a HUGE no-no.

I didn't take this photo inside the tomb, but found it on the website of someone who doesn't follow travel rules. Bad man! Bad!

We then drove to the Temple of Queen Hatchepsut after leaving the Valley of the Kings. This temple, unlike the Karnak temples, is built on three terrace levels directly into the hillside.

Each level is connected with ramps, and from the top-most level you get an amazing view of the valley. It is beautiful and surprising to see such vibrant green in patches of irrigated land amidst the brown of the desert.

There was some driving after this visit, which culminated in a 30 minute boat ride on the Nile as the sun was setting. How cool is that? The boats were small and bright and there was so much to see. After the heat of the day (it was Africa hot, after all), it was lovely to be on the water, even fairly polluted water. And then it was back on the bus for the convoy back to Hurghada.

It was a tiring day that ended at 11:30. There was so much to take in and I look forward to posting some photos to help explain the trip. Well worth while! Tomorrow: snorkeling in the Red Sea. I saw this:

Egypt days 3 and part of 4

Day three of the Egypt adventure brought more hours baking on the beach and by the pool. We went to a nicer place to eat (still included, but there were several hoops to jump through before we were allowed to partake). Kofta kebabs grilled over charcoal, giant spoonfuls of hummus AND baklava for dessert? Couscous, fish AND delicious cucumber and tomato salad with yogurt? Oh yes. We gorged ourselves.

Today we went to Luxor, which meant getting on a bus at 5:40am. I had heard that all buses travel in a caravan across the desert, but I was not prepared for the seriousness of it. When I thought of a "convoy" I pulled the imaginary semi-truck horn and thought of the novelty song from the 70s (when CB radio was king), but after today, I will think of 50+ tour buses gathering in a secured gravel lot 60 kilometers from Hurghada and leaving together with armed police at the front, at the back and in two cars that patrol the middle. Lots of machine guns.

The drive through the desert took a few hours and was highly surreal, made all the more surreal by the Myers Elementary School 4th grade curriculum in 1978. While other children learned about ancient Egyptians, our hippified teachers thought we should spend the year learning about the Bedouins, Egypt's desert nomads. I get that we were in an "experimental" school, what with the open plan classrooms and reading and math "pods", and I even tip my hat to the idea that kids should learn about nomads and such, but spending a year's worth of social studies hours on the Bedouins seemed like overkill.


That is until we made our only WC and coffee stop about an hour into the convoy trip. Enterprising Bedouins were waiting for us with camels, donkeys, goats and little girls, all decorated in bright colors, for a manufactured photo op. There was that moment of thinking, "I shouldn't support this - it is essentially begging." And then that moment was beaten down with the realization, "That may possibly be the most pretentious thought ever!" Because it isn't begging, but taking advantage of an opportunity, and I know, thanks to the overabundance of Bedouin lessons, that opportunity didn't come often to desert. More to come later - temples, Nile river, my love of hot weather, snorkeling in the Red Sea, bartering and the perfume debacle along with other assorted gems. Must sleep now.

Rolling with the Ruskies

Hurghada, Egypt: day 2
Checklist of things seen today at resort filled with 80 percent Russians:
- Mesh top on round man
- Plethora of sparkle on every possible piece of clothing
- Men who look suspiciously like Putin
- Teenage girls who look suspiciously like Ivanka Trump
- Leopard print banana hammock highlighting a very pink and fairly large bum
- Grandma in floor length paisley caftan and babushka. I almost rolled her for the outfit
- young son of banana hammock with Kagol hat, gold chain and shoulder tattoo. He was maybe 7 years old.

The best people watching ever! Food good. Hotel good. Company beyond fabulous. Sun present and accounted for. I swam in the Red Sea today and thought of Moses. All is good.

Traveling to Egypt - a primer of sorts

Greetings from Hurghada, where Allison, my intrepid friend from Michigan, and I are spending the next five days. It was a long day, filled with adventures, and a few lessons learned. In the spirit of sharing equals caring, here is my list of memorable moments.

1. The airport in Amsterdam now boasts several Starbucks. Those among you who are disdainful of the homogenization of the global culture can pretty much suck balls right now because my first Dutch-made Chai Tea Latte was freaking delicious. Sorry for the crass language mom.


2. When booking a package tour in a non-English speaking country, be prepared to not hear English spoken on your journey. This is especially true if you are on a charter flight, as we were. Transavia is a Dutch airline, but surely all instructions are given in English as well as Dutch, right? Nee, danke u wel

I managed to muddle through the ordering of the prosecco and Pringles without too much problem, and was feeling fairly cocky about my comprehensive abilities when the plane landed and some people disembarked.

3. When half the plane is staying in their seats (keep in mind that these are Dutch people staying in their seats - a people not famous for orderly mass exits), AND all announcements are made in a (still) unfamiliar language, it is a good idea to ask a flight attendant what is going on instead of joining the group and exiting the aircraft.

4. When the man looking at your itinerary in the airport says, "You got off the plane too soon. This is Marsa Alan, not Hurghada," I recommend reacting like Allison did: "You're kidding, right?" That made everybody laugh! And no, they weren't kidding. Who knew the plane made multiple stops? Clearly not the non-Dutch speaking kids!

5. Get a ride back to the plane in a beat up pick-up with a very nice airport employee. Talk about a walk of shame down the aisle! All those stoic faces staring at us and our former seats were taken by people who were not about to give them back so we had to pass everyone before we found two seats together in the back. We did play the self-mocking card as we ran the gauntlet and I think a few people actually smiled. Once we sat, the stewardess very nicely said, "Now that the two passengers who got off in the wrong place have got back on the plane, we can take off." But we didn't know she said that until Allison noticed that people were pointing and laughing at us and asked for a translation. Because her derision was in Dutch. Well played tulip girl. Well played.

6. We got off the plane at the next stop - Hurghada and followed the sheep through all the necessary steps to get our visas, get stamped, get money, get luggage, get to the correct hotel shuttle, tip the guys who handle the bags (we should have brought handfuls of 50 euro cent coins for tipping) before arriving at the Hotel Aladdin (pronounced "aladeen." It seems great - an all-inclusive paradise of food, drinks, shisha bars, cushy lounge chairs, beach, pools and 80+ degrees. We are here and already having a fab (and memorable) time.

The happiest, cutest, most smile making political messages ever

http://barackobamaisyournewbicycle.com/

Click on the link and keep refreshing your browser window for seemingly never-ending messages. I don't know who make this, or if the Obama campaign even endorses it, but it is brilliant.

Hee hee. Barack Obama rocks.

Say goodnight gracie

In my mind I am a mere wisp of a girl. A gamine continental hipster. I am Audrey Hepburn without the aging love interest.**

Except I am not.

I will preface this story by saying that the game "Guitar Hero" was installed in the conference room across from my desk two weeks ago. On a Friday. After a long week. My inner rock star, who is a wispy, gamine hipster, but decidedly more NY than EU, was so excited by the prospect of playing along with Poison "Talk Dirty To Me" that she ran into the conference room when it was her turn to play. Only she/I didn't run into the conference room itself, but rather the glass wall next to the conference room doorway.

With my nose.

As my mom said, while laughing, "You have been running into walls your entire life." And it is true. What I like to think of as living exuberantly, perhaps isn't the BEST way to live, especially when dealing with glass walls, potato peelers, hot oven racks and sharp knives. I know scars are supposed to tell one's life story, but my book is getting long and isn't that exciting. The scar from touching a hot pan isn't nearly as cool as a scar from, say, wrestling a bear.

There really isn't any solution to this. I wasn't a gamine girl even at my tiniest, and I would much rather jump-rope in platform Prada's, causing a huge, and still painful scar on the top of my foot, than cheer from the sidelines. That is the way this dual-continent, aging hipster apparently wants to roll. And if there were any doubts that I won't learn anything from the glass wall incident, let me assure you that, after the nose swelling went down and my coworkers stopped laughing, I walked into the conference room and made it through Sonic Youth's "Kool Thing" on the first try. I even worked in a totally rocking kick mid-way through without falling down or hitting myself in the head with the guitar. Nice! I am a guitar hero indeed.

** Even a skinny-man aficionado such as myself is disturbed by the bandanna on a greyhound imagery brought on by Fred Astaire's jaunty red scarf knotted on one side.

Rabito is great - and we are fine also.

We really didn't plan for the dog to match the carpet.

It has been three weeks since Rabito came home and I have been spending all my free time staring at him and cooing instead of updating the blog. I'd apologize, but if you could see how cute he is, you would understand. Honestly. Tom and I got so lucky with this dog! Here is a list of Rabito attributes:
1. he is perfectly housebroken and would rather sleep for another hour than go out early in the morning for relief.

This ball is crazy-making.

2. he is the calmest dog in the land except he is let off the leash to run free and then he is a craaaazy puppuh who flies back and forth, jumps three feet straight off the ground (all four paws straight up ) and has the most hysterical expression of manic glee on his face for about five minutes. And then he flops down at your feet and asks for a belly scratch.
3. he is beautifully behaved when I bring him to work. At one point last week there were four grownups on the floor vying for his attention.
4. he makes people smile when they see him coming.
5. he pounces on his toys. Which you can see in this video. Maybe I am just a proud parent, but CUTENESS!

I feel like I have a family of my own now and I love coming home to the greetings of both boy and dog. And now that the project that I have been working on is over, I actually get to come home at a decent hour. I even started cooking dinner again, and I am please to report that Tom has started gaining some weight after the skinny days post Christmas illness.

March will be good, with three weeks of vacation coming. I booked a trip to Egypt last week for my friend Allison and I to take when she comes over from Michigan. All sun, beach and relaxation -- all inclusive of food and the requisite cheesiness. Then Tom, Rabito and I are going to Paris to meet mom and dad before they leave on the Orient Express. Can not wait to see them! And the last week is yet to be decided. I'm hoping we can get to Rome - sans dog.

Our newest addition -- meet Rabito

Or Inigo. Or Milman. Or Dodo. Or perhaps the cutest dog in the world.

One of my Christmas presents from Tom was a dog or a cat, so last weekend, he and I took a look around for a scruffy mutt dog that wasn't too big and wasn't too small and we found him on a site devoted to rescue dogs from Spain.


Rabito (means "Small Tail") was rescued by the Animal Life Aid Service, a group devoted to saving animals from all over Europe. Rabito comes from Spain, and was literally saved from death row, where he was sent after his family decided, after 9 months, that he was too big to keep. Spain -- nice people, good food, but not so nice or good if you are a dog. Instead of trying to find new families for dogs, they simply kill them. So people from ALAS saw Robito when his "turn" was just two dogs away, ealized he shouldn't be there and saved him. He was sent to a foster home in southern Netherlands, where he stayed for 2 months, waiting for us to find him.


And we did. While looking through postings on the internet, we came across Rabito's photo and instantly knew he was our dog. We rented a car and drove for about two hours to get to a small town close to the Belgium border. The people who took care of him were lovely, and have fantastic kennel facilities that they open up for rescue dogs free of charge. Rabito was a bit scared at first, but warmed up quickly and even let me hold him in my lap all the way home. We walked a long way back to the apartment and Rabito's head must have been spinning to go from a farm to a big city with trams and helicopters and bikes with bells and cars too.


He has been adjusting beautifully, including sleeping all night last night and quickly figuring out who we are. The three of us went on a big walk today in Westerpark, where dogs can run around free (though not Rabito yet) and there are lots of trees to use and lots of mud to play in. And then he got his first bath.

Tom and I are in love, and Rabito seems happy too. Now we get to be a family!

Marco + Pasquale

My lovely friends in Amsterdam, via Italy. On Christmas day I was lucky enough to be invited to their flat for Christmas lunch with Marco's sister, her two boys, a coworker of Pasquale's and Pasquale's parents -- their first trip outside of Italy and their first trip on an airplane! I could not think of a better place to spend the afternoon. Though I was the only non-Italian in the group, I felt so welcome. Pasquale's father kept telling jokes through the meal, which Marco graciously translated for me. I had to laugh well after everyone else in the room, but I did laugh. When I told him (and had translated), "I have to remember these jokes so I can tell my father." he raised his glass and said, "To Papas!" At which point I teared up. Of course!


These are photos from the Wieden+Kennedy Christmas party. Marco is the one in the glasses. In looking back on the year, I am very aware that I have been lucky enough to make some lifelong friends. That doesn't happen often and I am so grateful that these two fine, funny gentlemen came into my life.