Well, I finally have an answer for you.
Instead, the girls looked plucked directly out of Tigerland (a collection of slightly trashy bars off of LSU's campus) and looked bored. They sat on stools, staring off into space and eating sandwiches or distractedly texting on their smartphones. Needless to say, It wasn't quite as glamorous as I expected.
But that 30 minute walk was the only disappointing part of Amsterdam ( and to be honest, it wasn't that disappointing... I had an amazing waffle with nutella and banana).
In Holland I, the four year old, was our official family translator. Apparently, playing with Dutch children at preschool all day is a really great way to learn Dutch quickly. (I don't know if I would recommend this if you're over the age of, say, 6.) By the time we left Holland, I was fluent. But when we got back to the States, I think it took me approximately one Texas summer to ditch dank je vel for thanks, y'all. Suddenly, I was no longer bilingual.
I was hoping that when we landed in Amsterdam, all of my forgotten Dutch would come rushing back to me. But it turns out I remembered only four phrases:
I remember a lot of things about my neighborhood: leaving empty wooden shoes out on Christmas Eve for Sinter Klaas to fill with presents (apparently he doesn't discriminate), getting stung by a bee in our back alley, the fact that you turned right to get from my house to preschool. But I cannot for the life of me remember there being a beach. I don't particularly love the beach now... apparently it's never impressed me.
Some other pictures from the Hague:
Today is a very important day: the start of the annual Carol Convention.
November was not that month. Neither was October. Or September. You get the picture.
Going out of town for Thanksgiving didn't help matters this month. But, I might as well be a good blogger and end the month on a high note by telling you why I'm giving thanks:
Fall in our front yard - it lasted all of 48 hours:
Someone who enjoys taking road trips and listening to dystopian young adult novels with me (that would be Y):
Family (even when they bring an airhorn to Thanksgiving!) and the fact that some of them live in pretty, pretty Birmingham:
One of my favorite drinks at Starbucks:
One of my favorite drinks at Starbucks:
''I actually feel kind of attacked by the sun. I feel like it's piercing into me, and I start to feel more and more desperate to escape it. I have a hard time organizing and managing daily life. By August, I'm barely able to function and don't really recover until autumn. October is reliably a good month. I feel like I'm being released from my summer, what I would call, jail cell.''
I used to think I hated summer because I was always The Pale Girl in a sea of tans or because my frizzy hair just did not cooperate. Now that
pale is in and I have my hands on some frizz products that actually work I'm not in high school and don't care as much about fitting in, I'm positive it has something to do with the heat.
This picture just looks cold and it makes me happy.
Wearing a scarf in September in Louisiana is almost unheard of
Red velvet pancakes from The Bongo Room and spending quality time with friends who don't mind laying on the ground for a photo op didn't hurt either. And the trip ended the way any good trip (or any day, really) should, with some very successful internet And I'm happy to say I wore the skirt that was subject to a drive by fashion critique with no negative comments. Success! But a girl can only be away from home and live on donuts and pancakes for so long -- it was good to get home to these guys, just in time for blissful October.
stalking detective work.
Red velvet pancakes from The Bongo Room and spending quality time with friends who don't mind laying on the ground for a photo op didn't hurt either. And the trip ended the way any good trip (or any day, really) should, with some very successful internet
And I'm happy to say I wore the skirt that was subject to a drive by fashion critique with no negative comments. Success!
But a girl can only be away from home and live on donuts and pancakes for so long -- it was good to get home to these guys, just in time for blissful October.
I like adventures.
I've been spoiled in that I've traveled to so many interesting places, as early as a wee three year old. Did I mention I lived in Holland?
Now, thanks to being dragged from country to country, museum to museum for as long as I can remember, I hate sitting still. In my spare time I plan hypothetical vacations and browse kayak.com. And when I find $100 plane tickets to Chicago from my local regional [usually expensive] airport, I don't pass that up.
Since a year ago today we were on our honeymoon in Ireland, I feel like I should do a reminiscent post. I could go on and on about the views, the food, and the nonstop Michael Jackson tributes; but I would rather tell you about our "Frank and Beans".
Just like Pam and Jim made some friends on their honeymoon, so did we. Our friend was in the audience at a pub where the band put us on the spot for being on our honeymoon.
Okay... that's not quite true. We never actually met our friend. We also don't remember seeing him in person. But once we looked through our pictures, oh, he was there. And he was really, really, really happy to see us.
were able to figure out his name named him: Smiley McGee. Smiley McGee is an often discussed subject in our house, and has even appeared in a birthday card. He also has a voice -- which, now that I think about it, sounds suspiciously like Ike's inner monologue - that we use to say his catch phrase. Which, appropriately if not creatively, is "I'M SMILEY MCGEE!"