Is the Universal Language Actually...Miming?

What is it about communicating to a foreign language speaker that makes us turn into people with a 2-year old vocabulary in our OWN language and apparently become instantly hard of hearing? For the record - I am the foreign speaker in this instance as I live in a country that speaks Dutch and I do not. I respond to this challenge by speaking in broken English, made up words and at top volume - and preferably just keep repeating the same thing over and over when they look at you like you're nuts. IT NO WORKY! ME COLD! BRRRRRR!!! NO WORKY!!!

This type of communication usually is accompanied by a series of erratic hand gestures and arm waving so you can appropriately demonstrate the urgency of your point, whatever it may be.

My latest experience with this dummed down form of communication came today. My attempt to tell the plumber that my boiler is out and I have no heat or hot water came in the form of pantomime/charades-style acting of me shivering. I thought this would accurately convey - "I'm cold, how about you look at the heat source?" Seemingly my shivering and shaking conveyed to this man that either I had fleas or was suffering from epilepsy given the awestruck looks he was giving me and his slow but steady backing away. hmmm. Not the result I wanted.

Amazing how otherwise very smart and self-reliant individuals turn into complete idiots boiling down communication to nothing short of a serious of grunts and hand movements!

As for me and my hot water problem...i'm on meds for the shaking and the plumber is flea-bombing my house.

The Great Pumpkin Outing(s)

Well, now I'm feeling inspired to get in on today's DC Five blog action.

This past Saturday we had a scheduled outing to a pumpkin patch at a place called Sauvie Island just outside of Portland. This was an organized outing as part of Point B's annual Fall Family Fun Day. Actually, I just made up that name. I don't know what it was called. But it was a Point B outing. Anyway, I'm learning that Sauvie Island is the place for all things U-Pick around Portland. You may remember some shots from strawberry picking in the spring...

So, Saturday morning we wake up to one of those really crummy, stormy winter days where it started pouring before dawn and just didn't stop. These are the days where I normally like to sit by the fire with a little Neil Diamond on, but instead, we were headed out to the muddy, cold pumpkin patch. Okie dokie. Well, at least we'll get some good pics (and pumpkins) out of it, right? I'm big on the Halloween pics and celebrating this year since Ian was jipped out of his first Halloween last year due to that whole moving thing. (Halloween day was the day the movers were at our house, so while kids were coming around trick or treating to our doorstep, we were - okay, I was - tearfully saying our goodbyes to our then-empty house and heading off to a hotel - with sick child in tow, no less. )

It so turns out that pumpkins in the rain and mud can actually be kind of fun when dressed appropriately. Jeff didn't want to lug his nice camera, understandably, so we decided on my little one for the all-important pumpkin patch shots. And I got some great ones! For once, Ian actually seemed into posing (instead of running toward, or grabbing for the camera). It was wonderful. We got pics in the cart surrounded by pumpkins. Pics in the patch with a sea of pumpkins behind. Pics next to the mooing cow on the farm (Ian's first real cow experience). Pics sitting on bales of hay. We had an organized barbecue dinner on the farm and then headed home where I enthusiastically downloaded the goods...only to find out that apparently my camera broke sometime in the last couple of weeks. My one-of-a-kinds were merely shots of black. Major bummer.

Muy disappointed, I was, needless to say. Until, Jeff brings up, jokingly, well, we could go back on Sunday and just snap some shots. Hmmmm.... not a bad idea. So, of course on Sunday morning I make us all trek back out there to relive the experience. (Actually, Ian needed an outdoor outing anyway to burn off some energy, so a pumpkin patch is as good as the park...) But we all know that you can never relive the glory days. First of all, the farm we went to on Saturday is not open on Sundays. To that I say - who the *bleep* runs a pumpkin farm and closes two Sundays before Halloween??? But never fear, pumpkins are a plenty on Sauvie Island and I found another one that was open. Apparently, so did the rest of Portland because this place was a madhouse - and a marketing machine, I might add. Unlike the quaint little place we had been the day before - this place had a (very crowded) petting zoo, they had the corn maze, they had the hayrides (which were necessary to get out to the pumpkin patch approximately 15 miles out), they had the $2 cow train. You name it, they had it. Along with the people to prove it. They did have a lovely fresh produce market, though. So, between the mud, the people and the fact that Ian was being slightly less cooperative than the day before, we didn't stay long - but we did get some fresh produce at the market, and oh yeah, a couple of pics.

oh my dear good Lord

Hello Ladies! I am posting this information for two reasons: 1) to remind Melinda of just how glorious the last month of pregnancy is, and 2) to encourage the rest of you to use condoms! Seriously -- look at what happens to you. Those aren't even cankles - they're their own animals. Disgusting. Now in week 37, I am waddling around San Francisco in flip flops, the only shoes that still fit, smiling politely as people stop and make various exclamations of my enormity. I realize they're trying to be friendly, but it just makes me want to comment on their appearance, e.g., "Wow! You're ready to pop!" "Yep, and you're losing your hair!"

On the positive side, we got the good news today that we don't need a C-section this week, so Little Miss Murray can hopefully be delivered vaginally. While I do view this as a positive development, we've been told since July that we'd likely need a C-Section, so I'd gotten prepared for that, and I'm having kind of a hard time making an immediate mental shift. By6 tomorrow I will be on board with the whole contractions, birthing ball, breathing thing. Today I'm just wallowing in the fact that it could be another 3-4 weeks. I am just so ready for her to arrive and to not be pregnant anymore. And, we've been given three Steelers onesies, a Steelers baby hat, a Steelers pacifier, and a Steelers rattle, so Andy's ready for her to arrive too.

The official due date is November 13th. I hope she's not born on Halloween, because that's a sucky birthday I think - she'd never get to choose the theme of her parties, it's already a fun & special day at school, and even when she gets older, people will always have other parties/stuff to go to. But then again, a birthday involving candy corn can't be all bad.

Soooo... pray to the stork for me, and know that if I don't write you back in the next week or so it's either because I've gone into labor or because my balloon trunks & sausage feet have given out on me and I am flailing around the floor, unable to get up.

Not Your Mama's Hamam!

A few weekends ago I headed off to sunny Cyprus for some much needed vitamin D exposure as experiencing an Amsterdam summer has turned my skin the color of slightly-off mayonaise. Coupled with the whistful looks of longing whenever the golden orb is mentioned this is not a good look for Kate. I also got to see the little squirrels Sophie and Max who just get more adorable and fun everytime I see them - arguably the cutest kids in the world but I'm willing to concede a slight bias when it comes to my niece and nephew.
I stepped out of the plane Thursday night feeling the lovely warm night air that usually accompanies a far away holiday locale only to have my sister tell me "Wow, can you believe it? We're having a cold snap!" Having shed my 49 layers of clothing down to my singlet standing in teh airport parking lot I looked at her like she was crazy. Little did she know this "cold snap", which was temperatures in the low to mid 80s, for me was equivelant to standing on the surface of the sun!
The next day Claire and I decided to go to a traditional Hamam in town for a little R&R and sister bonding time. We were both looking forward to a little relaxing retreat to catch up sans children and be pampered a bit. We'd spotted Hamam Omerye on one of my previous visits - a beautiful renovated spot in the Center of the Walled City in Nicosia. At first glance it does look like something out of Star Wars, but it's incredibly gorgeous inside. We had read a bit about what the traditional Hamam experience was like and lucked out we'd come on a lady's only day so were ready for the full sweating and bathing experience. Stepping inside we were in a circular stone room with a ceiling that seemed to stretch on forever. The perimiter of the room was fitted with tranquil little cubbies for lounging, changing, chatting, etc. and in the center a tea service was highlighted both by sunlight and the long colorful fabric lamp hanging from the peak of the ceiling. Claire suggested we go for some luxury and in addition to getting the Hamam (which basically means access to the facility including the hot sauna rooms, etc.) and we sign up for massages. "No no" I said. "We're here at a Hamam let's go for the traditonal scrub - seems like it would be fun!" [background noise of my skin screaming out in protest of my unwitting decision].

The woman at the front took our request and then gave us our Hamam Kit which consisted of a wicker basket filled with two towels, a robe, flip flops, a bottle of water, a small steel bowl with a loofah and a small little packet of underpants. I have to pause a minute to discuss the undies. These are provided for those who are a little modest and would like to not be completely naked. Fine. However, the feat of engineering that holds this gauze and string contraption together cannot possibly be helping anyone's modesty. Not only are they uncomfortable becuase they don't actually fit - they seem to just hover somewhere around you - but they must be made of those travel soap papers because when they get wet the pants basically turn to paste. And ain't nothin more uncomfortable then wearing a pair of paste pants attached to a string that keep migrating! Needless to say I routinely reject the paste pants and opt for al fresco.
Claire and I stepped inside after reading the "rules" of what we were and were not allowed to do in the Hamam which included, i'm not kidding, No Smoking. hmm. ok. The inside of the actual Hamam was 38 degrees Celcius so a nice humid temp and consisted of one large circular room with a giant pentagon shaped marble slab in the middle. Around the sides were 6 vestibules with smaller marble slabs and a sink for filling your steel bowl. Not quite feeling up to being center stage we chose a vestibule and settled onto the heated marble. It was very relaxing (and hot!) but we were finally getting into the groove of the relaxation and chatting we'd been missing living so far apart. We were the only two in the Hamam at this point so we didn't really have any guidelines - do we lay on our towels or not? What do we actually do with this loofah and steel bowl? So many questions.
Feeling used to the scene now we moved to teh center slab (which actually had it not been so tranquil in there could have been reminicent of some sort of ritual killing site but thankfully no such thoughts entered our minds.) After a while a woman walked in and asked who wanted to go first. I volunteered and in I went for my scrub! Yay! this was going to be great I love spa scrubs! She took me into one of the vestibules and pulled a curtain. The room was the same as our smaller one with a stone slab and a stone sink. I hopped up on the table and she took my steel bowl (ahh that's what it's for!) and ran the water and poured it over me in swaths. Then...the scrub. ow...ow...Ow. OW OW OW WOWWWWWWWWWW! OUCH!! Jesus this woman wasn't fooling around! She was scrubbing like I'd been in the jungle for 18 months. I started to think this was going to be less like a spa experience and more like a Silkwood Shower. I knew when it got to the point where I couldn't tell if the burning was actually hot or cold that I could be in some trouble. This lasted approximately 20 minutes and I emerged shiney and raw...and approximately 10 lbs lighter due to skin loss. I hobbled out of the vesitbule and met Claire's wide eyes as she passed me going in to face her fate in the skin removal machine. After soothing our seaping wounds and sitting in our cubbies drinking tea and chatting we both vowed to next time get the massage! The rest of my trip in Cyprus was, as always, great. I was there for my sister's birthday and on Sunday we went to gorgeous Konos beach with the kids and then Laurent had a party with their friends that night. It was so much fun and as always I cannot wait to go back! Photos from this latest trip below!

Labor Day Roadtrip. Check.

Ladies!

Okay, I'm writing this posting for two reasons:

1. To report on our lovely weekend; and

2. Because no one has written in anything in nearly three months!!!!

This weekend marked the official close of our first summer in Oregon. And, as I'm learning, what would a summer in Oregon be without a good old-fashioned family roadtrip to some outdoorsy location? Luckily we got one in just in time!

It all started a couple of weeks ago, really, when we were in Napa for the weekend. Point B hosts a company getaway for all associates and their partners each year, and this year's was at the Silverado Resort in Napa. So, down we flew, dropped off Ian at the grandparents and spend the weekend eating, drinking and participating in the Point B Olympics, which included the now-famous "crab catch."

Now, I know you are all wondering what Napa has to do with an Oregon family roadtrip. Well, Jeff was recently appointed the Point B "Culture Director" (all positions with the company are voluntary and contribute to your annual bonus). In the role, he was immediately informed upon our return from Napa that Point B was already behind in planning next year's getaway, which would preferably be somewhere in Oregon given that the Portland market is getting sizeable enough at this point to do its own thing. So, being the helpful, event-planning, resort-finding spouse that I am, I put my handy skills to work and hopped on the computer to locate some perfect options for next year (i.e., nice resorts in OR where I would most like to go).

Enter Sunriver Resort. This is a name that seems to come up often in these parts. Family-friendly resort with lots of activities outside of Bend in Central Oregon. With a little convincing, we decided a mini family getaway was long overdue since our trek out West and booked a condo at Sunriver for Labor Day.

It was a wonderful little getaway. We left around Noon on Friday. The drive there takes you out of Portland and immediately into the mountains around the base of Mount Hood, which is amazing beautiful. Then you drop into a valley and follow along the Deschutes River for a bit until you eventually come into Bend - which, you probably know, is the hoity toity place to be and be seen in Oregon these days. Sunriver is just on the other side about 15 miles outside of Bend. It's a very pretty area with quite the woodsy feel. The resort itself is huge with a main lodge, three golf courses, several pools, a spa, it's own airport, river rafting, horseback riding, miles of bike trails, kids' playgrounds, a nature center and many condos and vacation homes. We had a two bedroom, two bath condo with its own deck that overlooked a lake and clear views of Mt. Bachelor. (Molly & Erica - It reminds me a little bit of Yosemite Valley, but bigger, I think.) The weather could not have been better as there was not a cloud in the sky all weekend with daytime temps in the 80s.

Friday evening we ventured back into Bend for dinner at a cute little Italian place, then sitting out under the stars, wine in hand, after Ian went to bed. Saturday morning we took a long stroll to the village to check out the restaurants and shops and then back to the condo for Ian's lunch and nap. Midday our friends Zach and Brianne joined us where we hung out lazily on the deck most of the afternoon and then went to gather nuts for dinner (just kidding - we went to the grocery store). I tried to push for Tater Tot Casserole, but the group instead voted on hamburgers, with Tater Tots. Close enough, I guess. Lots of wine and amazing star gazing/meteor showers that evening as well. Sunday more laziness and walks, with the required trip to the playground, of course.

And the Monday morning - back to reality - time to pack up and head back to Portland. But not before a Dairy Queen stop along the way. (Cat - you know how I love the Dairy Queen!!!)

All in all, lots of fun and hopefully just the beginning of all the beautiful places along the coast and in the mountains we have to explore in Oregon and throughout the Pacific Northwest. Next up: A visit to Timberline Lodge this winter for skiing on Mount Hood.

I hope everyone else enjoyed a labor-free weekend!

Fun Times with Sis!!!

Hey girls.

I just had a FAB weekend with my sister. She flew up from Cyprus on Friday and stayed until today (Monday) and left this afternoon. I am SO SAAAADDD! I hated to see her go I had so much fun and felt like bawling seeing her go away. I miss her so much especially since we used to live so close and could hang out and talk whenever we wanted.

The weekend was SO much fun! It started with me taking the whole day off on Friday to clean my apartment which was in scary shape and get some groceries in the house so we had something to eat. The weather was uncharacteristically good for Holland - mid 70s and bright sun all weekend! A welcome change to the usual gloom and doom. She got in on Friday and we rented her a bike so we could ride around town. It was perfect biking weather although I was worried being that it is the height of flower mania AND sunny out that there would be more than the usual number of tourists and pedestrians to navigate in the bike path. But she got the hang of it immediately (much faster than me!). Friday we strolled around a bit - took a much needed nap then rode down to the PC Hoffstraat south of the canals to go to a great Indonesian Rice Table. Super yum. Afterwards we strolled around the streets a bit to walk off the wine and make sure we were biking responsibly. :) We came back up to the Newmarkt (a big square right where I live) and it was bustling so we stopped our bikes and got a table outside, sat and had a great time chatting in the nice weather.

This focus of this weekend was the Flower Show - every year Amsterdam puts on a big show of the tulips and gorgeous flowers out at a place called Keukenhof - www.keukenhof.nl. We headed out there Sunday and although it was a crush of people it was gorgeous! Walking through a huge park surrounded by millions of the most beautiful floral varieties you've ever seen. There were literally dozens of tulip types and other flowers I'd never before seen. So pretty. We walked around for about 2.5 hours then were exhausted from our journey so laid down and dozed on the grass for a while. To the cool stylings of the Oompa band in the background! We topped off the weekend with a very fun BBQ at my friend's Chris and Madelon's house were again we sat outside and soaked in the incredible weather.

Claire will never again believe me when I complain about Amsterdam weather given this weekend! Then she had to leave today - too short as always but oh so fun! I will post photos as soon as I download them!

I miss you girls - AND am counting down to GBW! I cannot wait! Melin - any word on whether we can persuade you? Big hugs.

Kate

Fifth Time's a Charm

After four unsuccessful efforts, I am delighted to report that an offer we put on a house was accepted!!!! We're finally homeowners!! Well, almost - we still have to have the contractor's inspection tomorrow and sign our life away with our mortgage broker, but for the moment, we're just happy we didn't get ANOTHER call from our realtor with that sad tone in his voice.

The house is in the Noe Valley, which is due West of the Mission District, which means those delicious burritos and our favorite bakery are more accessible than ever! And we'll have two bathrooms, which means I can finally choose my clothes when I want! (In our current apt, the bathrom is connected to, without door, my closet, so every morning I have to rush in and choose my outfit before Andy and the sports page take over. Is this too much information? Hm.) Anyway, I can't wait for you guys to see it and be able to stay in a guest room, instead of the fold-out couch!

Memories...Like the Corners of My Mind

Hello Ladies and Happy Wednesday!

It was a beautiful, sunny day in Portland today and all the flowers of spring are blooming. Those (sunny days) do happen here more frequently than you'd think. In fact, I'm now convinced the whole "the weather sucks in Portland" thing is a hoax to keep people from moving here. But, I digress.

So tonight I thought I'd post a couple of recent pictures of Ian, which first required me to download some photos into iPhoto. In the process I realized that we took a few pics of him last weekend (St. Patty's Day) in the new house. Which then lead me to start flipping through my photo album of our Arlington house (we kept an electronic album from the pics we took for the sale). And before I knew it, I was singing Babs and my eyes were welling up with tears. Don't get me wrong, I'm totally stoked about our new house. And, I think you'll find that it's basically the complete opposite of our old house. But, I think there's nothing like the fondness you feel for your first home. It was a cute place, if I do say so myself. And I just loved sitting in the glider chair in Ian's room after he was born. But really, there is no point to this except maybe to say I guess I haven't left my "old" life totally behind...yet.

So, to get back to the original point of this post - Ian recently became a full-blown walker. It was several weeks ago that he actually took his first very unexpected steps while we were sitting in the hallway of our rental house. But after that, no real action for a few weeks until we were in CA over President's Day weekend and something inspired him to really start taking steps at his grandparent's house. Since then, he's quickly gone from our little Speedy G crawler to our Speedy G walker. Boy, it happens fast. For the first couple of weeks he walked like Frankenstein with arms out in front and a smile plastered to his face (clearly very proud of himself). Now he's getting a bit more skilled and is starting to master carrying something while walking. We are proud parents.

A Forester I am Not (Apparently)

Okay, so now that I've accomplished my first blog comment (I hope I wasn't too harsh, Cat...I have had a few glasses of wine), I'm ready to tackle my first blog post. So many topics to choose from...new city, new house, new(ish) kid. Yet, one recent experience stands out...my worst job interview EVER!!!

Being new to the blogging world as I am, I'm not going to say the name of the organization for fear that people Googling it might come up with this post (for future reference, can that happen?), but let's just say it's a government organization that has to do with trees (you get the idea, right?). And, somewhat ironically, it's the first government job I've ever applied for.

So, I saw this job posting back in December for this state agency representing trees and that does a lot of educational programs and they were looking for a comm. director to head up their public education campaign. I was mainly interested given that I happen to have a lot of experience at this point in doing public education campaigns for various crazy industries (steel, propane, diesel...need I say more). So, I figured I'd apply because it's worth at least learning more about the position. Well, apparently that was mistake number one: Assuming that I'd have the opportunity to actually learn more from an interview to gauge my interest in the position.

For starters, this was the application process from hell. Not only was it a long application form, but I had to answer four essay questions, no more than two pages each. Questions included:
*What are the elements of a communications plan? Have you ever written a communications plan? What do you feel you could have done differently?
*What's the difference between public relations and public education?

Okay, this is kind of lame, but fine. So I submit my application and for weeks didn't hear anything to the point that I had written them off thinking apparently my essay answers were not sufficient. Finally, in the spirit of "when it rains, it pours", one week when I was in the middle of juggling about five other balls on the job front, I get a message asking me to come in one day the following week for an interview. Well, of course it's not as easy as me just being able to walk out the door of my house without being accompanied by a one-year-old, so I talk with Jeff about what day he can leave work and cover me and then I call back with a message requesting that I do another day where I could get childcare. Then I get a message back saying that I am being offered this one time slot on this one day and I can take it or leave it. Oooookkkaaaay. So, we rearrange schedules so I can make it. Then I am informed that I will receive a letter (not verbally, not an email, but a postal letter) telling me where to be. As you might guess, flags are already going up at this point that this might be a waste of my time.

When the letter arrives, I am informed that I am to bring references with me and that I will be interviewing with a "panel" of people consisting of the director of the organziation and three board members. Okay. Somehow, this makes me more nervous. I keep telling Jeff I'm having visions of going before some firing squad, to which he tells me I'm being ridiculous and worrying too much.

So, interview day arrives. My day starts with Ian deciding he's not in the mood for a morning nap that day (which of course rarely happens), so I spend my time mentally preparing myself and getting back into "business" mode by taking a shower and getting dressed while he screams in his crib. I have no other choice but to leave him there because I have to get ready. Fun. Then Jeff comes home to take over and I leave for the interview. I walk in and it's the most depressing, drab office I've ever seen in my life. I already want to walk out.

Then they call me into the board room. They tell me I am to take a seat at the head of the table. Then they each pull out lengthy stapled questinnaires and tell me that we have one hour (no more, no less) and they will be going around the table asking me questions in alternating order and I should provide brief, yet comprehensive answers to each question. Then I will have a few minutes at the end to ask them any questions I may have. Um, okay. I'm thinking, well, how about maybe first telling me a little more about the organization, or maybe a little more about the position? But apparently that wasn't important. And firing squad, it was. Each question had two, sometimes three parts to it, so I had to do the whole: Um, can you back and repeat the third part of that question? SO WEIRD!! These people clearly had no interest in knowing me or understanding who I was at all. Case in point: I had to start off explaining why my experience was relevant to the position. Fine. So of course I talked about my extensive agency background. And then the next question was: Do you have any experience working in a deadline-driven, fast-paced environment? ARE YOU PEOPLE DEAF????

Seriously, it was a complete nightmare. All they did was go around the table and fire questions at me for an hour while they all furiously dictated my answers on paper. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. Some of my favorite questions were:
*What is your perception of the image of the foresty industry in Ore. and what are you going to do to change it?
*If we hire you, what will you accomplish in your first six months on the job? (I don't know, can I learn more about the position first????????????????)

It took EVERY ounce of me not to stand up five minutes in and tell them that I needed to leave because this was a waste of my time, and theirs. Unfortunately I've already learned that this is a small town and that would not be a smart idea.

But once I was done in that room, that wasn't the end. Then I was escorted to another plain-walled room where all the employees were sitting around a table and they too had questionnaires and went around the table asking me questions. Even the admin was asking me questions, and clearly had no idea what she was even asking me because when I asked her to clarify one question, that very much threw her off since it varied from what was written on her sheet of paper.

Seriously, I was never so happy to get out of a place in my life when it was over. As I told Jeff, you would have thought I was testifying at a Senate Committee hearing on Iraq instead of interviewing for some po-dunk state agency in Oregon.

Needless to say, they did not call me back to tell me I had been selected for the job. Thank God.

Feeling Myself Up

Ok girls, I have a problem and I don't know what to do about it.

I am frequently catching myself feeling myself up these days. To see if I'm fat. In public.

My obsession with my weight is no longer staying under wraps (um, not that it ever did...) But now I am catching myself frequently squeezing and groping my waist, stomach, and love handles to see if I feel noticeably fatter, especially after I've eaten. But in public, which is not good.

I think this has been going on for some time now, but I have only recently become conscious of it. Like, just now at work I was doing it while at the printer when a co-worker asked me, "Cat, what are you doing?"

"Seeing if I'm fat."

"Oh, ok...."

(They are all scared of me here, I know it...)

I need to stop this, I fear it is becoming a bit OCD and out of my control.

I come from a family of proud belly rubbers. My neices are very proud of their bellies and rub them in public quite often, mostly out of pride. But they are 8, 5 and 2. I am 34. And my belly rubbing is not out of pride.

I fear I am one sick and twisted cookie. Where does one even begin searching the yellow pages for self-groping therapy and rehab? In New York, I am sure this is a valid medical condition covered by health insurance. But here in happy fish-n-chips eating London, where girls proudly display and show off their bare midrifs, usually hanging over their jeans, I might be stuck....

Hola Chicas!

Hola Chicas! I am back from Mexico and ready to start blogging! This is my first time blogging, so be gentle with me. So, yes, back from a long weekend in San Jose del Cabo with Andy. You will not be surprised to hear that all day people at work were saying, "Oh my God I can't believe how tan you are!" Even though I swear I used SPF 30 every half hour, I now look like George Hamilton, minus the gelled hair and snazzy suit. We were at an all-inclusive resort and took full advantage! Emphasis on the full -- I should never eat again. Why can't I restrain myself at a buffet? WHYYYYY????

Actually the worst incident of gluttony took place when we left the resort and ventured into town -- they were celebrating an annual fiesta, complete with rides, booths, and... churros! I bought a bag of 5, but when I pulled one out, another was attached - no problem for the large mouthed! Andy snapped the attractive photo.

And now that we're back, I have become a widow to March Madness. It really IS madness I think. Having gone to school in Canada (a little EBM trivia for those outside the 5 who happen to be reading), I can't understand the hysteria. But Andy is all over it. Sent out his pool, and taking this Thursday afternoon off to go to Sacramento to watch GW play.

In other news, the Reverends visit this weekend - an unprecedented visit without any work-related activities attached; they're just coming to visit. It marks another in a string of visitors we're having this spring - saw Melinda and Jeff last month, which was great!! Samantha & Molly Mandell are coming out next weekend; then Mary and Anna are visiting in April, and then Andy's mom & her beau Pat come in May, as do Jesse & Stephen and Katy & Ann Elizabeth Montgomery. I hope they like house hunting! Kate, you'll have to give them all pointers for how to be a good quasi realtor. We've bid, and lost, on three houses, and I am ready to win!! There are some cute ones in great SF neighborhoods - we just have to act fast.

Dressing Room Wrestling...Game On

It begins girls. As you all are well aware I have an addiction to buying bathing suits likened only in intensity to a cocaine problem. The faintest glimpse of a bathing suit section in a store, catalogue or online and I'm uncontrollably salivating feeling myself pulled there with some giant invisible magnet.

Being in London now (during my time of exile) there are SOOO many shops and I've been surrounded by the bright colors, fun patterns and great accessories. I've nearly had to call Cat twice from a store to ask her to talk me down. "Put the suit down Kate you don't need it!...It will only bring you pain!"

Now if I had the supermodel body I would feel justified in buying thousands of suits as I could run around anytime I wanted in one of these things and feel justified - why not I look good! HOWEVER...not the case. Bathing suits hold such fascination for me on the rack and make me believe I would look good in them. This is where I have hysterical memory loss about my own body. What the hell I know what I look like, where do I become do delusional that I think my body has magically morphed into Heidi Klume and I should don a bright yellow string bikini?

So this inevitably leads to me dragging 16 suits into a dressing room and being stunned when the bathing suite looks like shit and then triggering me to feel like shit and go eat 25 baguettes. nice.

I currently own 12. Yes girls 12!!! That's just ridiculous for someone who #1 lives in Holland the land of friggin bad weather and access to the frigid North Sea, and #2 goes to the beach once a year!

However our planned summer vacay to Cape Cod has rallied a kind of bathing suit hysteria that is until now unmatched. I am rabid. Everywhere I look I see them - I LOVE them - and my baguette count is getting dangerously high.

Agression Therapy

So, I just joined a trendy new gym 5 minutes ago. Was going into Starbucks to blog and passed this place I've heard raves about, so I stopped in and joined. It's a new gym called GymBox and it's totally rad -- sort of looks like you're in an Ian Schraeger Hotel (the Hudson Hotel in NYC to be specific...think yellow neon everywhere!)

There is a bit of a "Fight Club" theme. I got a pair of snazzy red boxing gloves for joining (cool!). There is a boxing ring in the middle of the place, several levels and there is a live DJ that spins the tunes every night!

But what I really like are the classes, which include "Bitch Boxing," "Fight Club," "Hula Hips," "Pole Dancing," "Hip Hop Honeyze," "Volcanic Vibes," and "Brazilian Ju Jutzu."

Even the website is cool -- check it out:
http://www.gymbox.co.uk

I've been told recently that I'm a bit aggressive. Maybe even angry. But you gals already know this well. Anyway, this gym may be the cure. (Even though I think I kinda like being aggressive and a little angry...it's comfortable). To be continued...

OK, gotta run, I am late to meet Kate and our friend Alyson for Saturday night fun....I'm loving this deportation business!!!

DE-PORTED!!!

We all knew it had to come crashing down at some point right? The Cindarella story that found me moving to Amsterdam, landing a magazine spread and meeting fabulous friends instantly was just tempting karma to wing a curveball at me right? Well forget curveball, Karma has flung a giant boulder at my head and is now laughing hysterically at me.

It would seem that the ease of my transition was a bit too easy. I was in a meeting in London a few weeks ago, checking my email when I got the following note from the relocation agency: "Miss Milner. We have received a notice about your visa from immigration. You should get a copy at your house as well. We are working on this."

'We are working on this?' uhhhhh that doesn't sound very good. Methinks there's a problem? I then get a voicemail from my boss who was trying hard to remain calm telling me that my work and residence visa had been REJECTED meaning I may have to leave the country. CALL ME!

One very good benefit of being completely snowed under at work feeling like you are barely handing on juggling 1,000 balls which could all come crashing down at any second is that there's only so much you can stress about before you've just got not more room. I had reached that point so for some reason I didn't seem too bothered by all this. Ok, it could have been that or it could have been that I was staying in London for the weekend visiting my friend Cat whose boyfriend had just broken up with her and we had a full agenda of fun nights ahead of us. Afterall I figured there wasn't anything I could do about it anyway so why ruin my weekend.

Monday morning rolls around and after being relieved that I didn't get stopped or stripsearched re-entering the Netherlands on Sunday I met with my boss to get a more full description of what the hell is going on. It seems that there was a technical glitch in the payment of my visa application. nice. The result of this lovely fiasco being that the Dutchies have deemed me undesirable to stay in their country so I am booted out! WTFMF!?!?!?

Being the obnoxious American the first thought that came to my mind was...WHAT? I'm American - EVERYONE wants us! Are you kidding me!?!

So I've taken refuge in our London office. I know I know, life could have been A LOT worse. I easily could have been sent to anywhere, but thankfully London was an easy pick. So I am Persona Non Grata...Man Without A Country...A REFUGEE! ok that's a bit dramatic.

Thank god my good friend Cat is here to help me fill my time. Shopping, parties, friends, I could get used to this!

So...if you get a knock at the door from the Dutchies asking how you know me, my personal habits and if I have any terrorist ties please don't mention my penchant for hording the ONLY banned substance in Amsterdam - Sudafed.

The Five of Us

Here we are at Erica's wedding in October 2005. Aren't we pretty?
(From left to right: Molly, Cat, Erica, Kate and Melinda)