We've been trying to convince ourselves that we'd only use cloth diapers with the next, try and do our part for the environment and whatnot. Now I don't have to swish stinky, poopy cloth diaps in the toilet to pre-wash. Yay!
g-diapers, check it out.
um. I know I've kinda gone awol, but honestly, I've been having a ball getting to know my parents as an adult. It's pretty cool and will probably get old, but for the moment it's great. I've been such a slacker here and still want to share the loverlies that have fallen off the needles...
Julia's having a ball getting brilliant and we've reached a common platform. Although, being dumber than her teacher has its drawbacks. It is so weird that she rides the bus to school, but her new "friend" Jackson rides the same route, so there is motivation! She's hard at work reinventing the English language. For example:
pulling a fart (falling apart)
paint nolish (nail polish)
halky-talkies (walky-talkies)
I hope to be back soon. Know that I'm reading. Happy Thanksgiving.
Oh, christ on a cracker. Yesterday while rocking out and polishing my mom's hardwood floor, I smooshed my pda. ACK! I aparently have butt bones of steel, because this is not the first time I've run around cleaning with it shoved in my back pocket but it is the first time that my butt has broken an LCD screen. My personal geek says he can probably get a replacement screen on ebay... so it's not the end of the world.
But geez, if this country is welcoming me a little coldly; First, my computer stopped holding a charge and tried to light itself on fire, so I bought a cute little Acer with tons of ram and all that yummy goodness, but guess what? Vista takes up so much fawking memory that it nullifies the extra gig and makes me feel like I'm trapped in 1993 with 256mhz and a DOS prompt. Hmmph! Seriously, it takes 5 minutes to start up. 5 MINUTES.
*bangs head against wall*
Luckily, the selling price of my dying beloved lappy - the sale price of crappier, but pretty! lappy= happy bank account.
Then, all (ALL) of my flip flops broke. Now, I realize this should strike me as trivial, but I now live in California where a sweatshirt and flipflops is perfect winter attire. Plus, we're approaching fall and so, there are no good flippies to buy, unless you're looking for sparkly wedges. Which I'm not.
Now, the damn pda. Lord, I need to get a job to pay for the damages incurred in moving back. There is, thankfully, some light in my rather dark tunnel; new car = awesome! Loving the Nissan Altima. Also, knitting. Am now knee deep in requests for knit goods... pictures still forthcoming, um, next time.
love you all! Monika, I miss you and our crappucinos in cegled!
After what can only be described as hell in the sky, we have arrived in California. When we booked our tickets we were so smug because of the amazing price we got, that we failed to realize that cheap, cheap, cheap translates directly into transfers from hell and lost luggage. (Just an fyi, until I can locate all the wonderful punctuation available on this hungarian keyboard, go ahead and contract verbs and punctuate as deemed necessary. My computer is awaiting repairs.)
It is odd being back, truthfully I do not think I am ready... And of course, the bag which was sent to somewhere other than SFO has my knitting and gifts. They promise to have it here by noon, but we will just see about that.
This is my rowena and while I'm not 100% in love with the bottom ruching ruffle, I do have a policy of done = done. I can try it differently on the next, because believe you me, there will be another.
If anyone is interested in deets and patterns, please let me know.
Is it just me or is acclimating to the metric system a long and sometimes agonizing process? I try to feel what the number represents, but it is somehow less. I've finally begun to understand that 25 deca (local speak for ordering meats and cheeses) is 250 grams and that, in turn, is one cup, but do you know how bena* I look trying to process all that in an instant. I'm sure by now the counter girls think, "Oh great, here comes the slow american." Also, they measure liquids in decis, or deciliters, so I've got no idea on that front, excepting a half liter which is two cups approximate. I usually just order the median amount and go from there.
Completely unrelated to weights and measurements, but nonetheless related: when ordering ice in this country you actually need to specify the number of pieces of ice you would like in your glass, and you still may only get 3. Just fyi.
Lord have mercy, a huge ass bug just crawled across my chest and I damn near dropped my laptop. Weird, those bugs. Makes me want to watch Naked Lunch or read The Metamorphosis. heh.
immedialtely updated to add: whoops! *bena = dummy
I'm sitting here in a corner, ignoring the fact that we're leaving in 7 weeks. Why, you ask? Haven't we all been in a suspended state with fingers crossed for nigh on 6 months? Shouldn't I be supremely excited to leave and reenter society? I should. And part of me is, but the other half kinda wants to stay and be Carefree, Weird Foreigner (CWF, for short) forever. Despite this country trying to suck my husband's soul dry, part of me is sad to be leaving.
I probably freaked out my mom with so little enthusiasm; she's completely giddy and planning and I'm all, meh. It's as though I feel guilty either way. Or possibly I only want to stay because I don't have to. I don't know. But planning has done me no good, so I'm definitely not doing that. Just gonna fly by the seat of my pants.
I've also gotta figure out What To Take, What To Leave, and What To Give Away. I took some of Julia's clothes that she refuses to wear, i.e. skirts, flowers, pink, green to the park to give to a tiny 7 year old who appreciates the finer, sparkly, girly things in life and also a pair of blue snowboots for her little brother. He kept asking me whose they were, I kept saying they were now his, he couldn't believe it and asked his mom if it was true. And then proceeded to wear the boots (but not ugg, maybe snowbear, or bearshoe, i dunno) in 90 degree weather. It was love!
Also, I never know how to feel about giving jules' clothes away because while I know it helps, especially here in the land of no money and tiny apartments, I don't want to be the weird American who gives expensive (but thrift store so not) clothes away to near strangers while refusing to give her child coke. Oh, the humanity.
Although, I guess I'm already the weird American what with all the non-worrying I do at the playground. I know some of you have heard my rant before, but that won't stop me. hehe. What is the point of a slide? Is it not the 3 seconds of, try to get this, sliding, the free falling sensation? Because here they are totally missing it by holding their damn 2 year olds while simulating the sensation! I understand that nobody wants to see their child get hurt, but holy hell is their joy in the little things worth less? I'll never get. That and all the parents sitting on a bench screaming at children, "Nem szabad!" (Not allowed) and "Le ne es!" (Don't fall!) And finally, the parent who yells not to hit and then slaps the boy because obviously hitting your child is the best way to teach them not to hit. But I digress.
A randomly odd question I am often asked: Which is easier to learn: German or English? As if I knew how hard it is for a non-speaker to learn German, or English for that matter. I try to explain that I don't know as English is my first language and also, I don't speak German. Or I'll ask them which is harder Magyar (Hungarian) or Japanese? Do you know what they say?
THEY ALWAYS SAY MAGYAR!
How do they know?
meg van = got it
Zoli has returned from the embassy a happy man! In what can oly be explained as sheer luck, the adjudicator took pity on his case and granted him a visa! We are completely numb; we've been back and forth so often on this journey that the reality is not sinking in very quickly. This is turning out to be a very good birthday for him indeed!
Wow. So hyperspeed planning and evacuating is going in full effect. Anyone in Hungary need a bunch of books? Electronics? Let me know.
Thanks all for crossing the fingers, I'm positive it helped.
All I need now is a camera and my life could just be considered perfect.
wow. so i sit here every morning, maybe afternoon, and i'll be thinking about a post i want to write and then i never actually write it. to combat this egregious laziness, a bulleted highlights post:
I generally consider myself to be a very good driver. I blame it on my irritating ability to pay attention to everything at once. At least it irritates Zoli, he can never win a where-was-it-last war because I automatically catalog the placement of all things upon every re-entry. And I'm the same with driving, I don't actually have to pay attention because my craziness has been operating separately for a long time.
Except for this one time. When I managed the restaurant. My parking space was 6 blocks away, it was dusk and I had been at work since 5:30 that morning. I was fried. I picked up my car, pulled out of the parking lot, stopped at the signal, looked to the left and proceeded to make a right turn against the light. All of a sudden he appeared as if from nowhere and I slammed on my brakes.
him: What the fuck, you almost hit me!
me: Um, I know, sorry it's just that...
him: What? Why the fuck would you try to hit me? Can't you see?
me: (giving up on the niceness) DUDE! It is dusk and you're wearing CAMOUFLAGE.
If I could bring an unlimited amount of just one wine....
it would have to be Honig Cabernet Sauvignon.
Have you ever heard of this winery? At 2 of the restaurants in San Francisco I worked at, we carried both their Sauvignon Blanc and the Cab. Both are great wines, honest, but my twue lub is a BIG cab. Honig Cab is big and beautiful and man, if I wouldn't trade my husband for a case.
As far as pricing goes, it's comparable to much more expensive Cabernet's, so for 35 bucks, it's both an investment and a deal. Plus, they are good people. I know. I bought wine from many a salesman while serving time as restaurant manager, but only once did I ever go after a wine.
So, if you're in the continental US, have a couple extra bucks, and love a good glass of wine then I envy the night this amazing wine arrives on your doorstep.
Hey! Do you guys know Alana?
No?!? *gasps in horror* Well, you should because I super heart her. Right after Christmas we decided to chance the Hungarian post office and do a little swap.
Look! How pretty.
Yes, that is toilet paper. Luxurious toilet paper! You can tell she's in the know. Tp here is similar to the original seventh generation 1-ply sandpaper... the benefit obviously being a nice exfoliated ass, but come on.
Red vines. Mmm... quite possibly the best candy ever.
Yay! JIF peanut butter. Can you believe they don't have PB&J here. But I do now.
Tapioca pudding, oh, how I've missed you.
And a little Sponge Bob valentine's fix for Julia.
Alana, I love you. Thank you.
Let's go now and all pay tribute to her.
Wow. I just finished a week long knitting marathon. It all started on Sunday when one of the nieces asked if the bolero would be done in time for Christmas... I, of course, said yes! and promptly sprinted to the yarn store to make a large purchase. I was more than a little apprehensive as I had just finished the ruffled scarf and still had a rather easy but large vest on the needles...
I cast on Monday night and knit 10 hours a day for the next 3 days, I finally, bound off all stitches yesterday. Oh. My. God. I can't believe I actually finished it. Also? It looks decent. Yay!
While I was furiously knitting, I thought about Christmas and the giving and receiving of gifts. I really, really hate the gift part of the holidays. (I don't want you to buy me crap I don't want, therefore, let's just hang out and have some turkey, m'kay?) But I love giving crafty gifts... However, I was/am nervous that somebody won't like what I've made (being new to the knitting and all) and it pisses me off because, well, it should be about the giving and loving. Anyway, they're going to love all their crap. They're nice people.
So, here's me wishing you a sappy, made for television Merry Christmas and a peaceful New Year. May Santa (or Jezuska) bring you all the szaloncukor you can eat whatever your heart desires (assuming you were a good boy or girl; unless you want bad things. In which case, let me rephrase: peace. I wish you all peace.)
There are few people in my life with whom I've lost contact that I have regretted. There has usually been a reason to lose contact: changing jobs, changing cities, or the mistake of sleeping together. Also, I'm not the best example of what it means to be a friend as I generally just disappear. If you know where I am, that generally means that I believe my life is better as a result of our friendship.
Except in the case of 2 of my friends, one of whom I found yesterday. Yay! We'll call her Vivianne (she used to complain about her name and I don't know if she's cool with all 4 of you knowing it! hehe). I met Viv in a sleepy little town in the sierra foothills. I actually remember the day we met: her energy brightens a room and you just want to find a reason to talk to her. Which I did. We talked and eventually became friends. We briefly lived together during the rainiest winter/spring with hardly any wood for the stove. We eventually went our own ways to finish college.
My last contact with her was, hmm, 3 maybe 4 years ago. I've googled her and found her trail, but never her. I've complained to Zoli, that it was just. so. unfair.
Then I found her email in my address book.
duh.
huh. I'm completely skeeved out after checking THIS out... I mean, it is empowering to have this information and all, BUT not only did we find someone with whom the husband worked, we also found the babysitter's next door neighbor. Where my baby spent a good portion of her first three years...
Man alive, anyone know how to un-know something?
Holy hell, this extended vacation can get boring. And before you get all snarky with the poor little 5penny, hangs out, no job to go to, living in a foreign country, boo hoo you f'ing bitch... Let me say this: were this a true vacation, where my spoiled rich ass could hang out and do whatever, I would totally agree with the snark. But, because we moved here with the grandiose plan of self-employment that was thwarted prettymuch the moment we got here, we have been "on vacation" insomuchas we do not work but we are also living off our life savings. Therefore, I am not said spoiled rich girl: there is very little traveling involved, very little movement involved, actually.
As an example, may I present a week in the life of 5penny: With the exception of delivering and picking up daughter from preschool, I sit still, knit, watch friends*, make food/bake something, interact with said child, and sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat. Every. Single. Day. And while it is fun and has it's moments, and while I wouldn't trade this year for all the money in the world (or even the savings that is dwindling) it has it's boring moments. Wah. Boo hoo. Poor baby.
See, those two green gloves? Yeah, they were supposed to be a pair for my neice, but apparently she would like a pair that are the same size. What's up with that?
Even though they look almost the same size, it's really the angle of the photo. Let's take a closer looksy, shall we? Yup, definitely NOT the same... dammit...
*This is me whispering, it is my other secret shame. I cannot get enough, I am a sad, sad creature.
Geesh. I had such high hopes for this NaBloPoMo thing. And then we had the three day fever/puke fest. And then a four day immobilizing migraine. And then my husband's laptop died and he confiscated mine because apparently his clients' design work is more important than my blogging habit. The nerve, eh.
So, congratulations to those of you who've actually made it thus far, only a couple of days left; a big thank you to those who've stopped by and commented (my husband thanks those of you who left links for me to waste a greater part of my day *wink*).
There's a man pacing the ground behind me, so anxious is he to resume contact with a keyboard...
