National Holiday

On 30 April 1980, Queen Juliana signed the Act of Abdication and Princess Beatrix succeeded her as Queen of the Netherlands. On the same day, her investiture took place at a special plenary session of both Houses of the States General in the New Church in Amsterdam. Since then, the Queen's birthday has been officially celebrated on 30 April. Apart from being the day of her investiture, it is also Princess Juliana's birthday. The Queen's Birthday is an official national holiday.

Money

Women are very curious, we all know that. We are also very fond of money. Nothing new there either. The first brought me to this site and the second got me a nice little logo telling me how much this blog is worth. Not a lot apparently…

PS My Dutch blog is going to bring in the big bucks, California here I come..

Lonely

Not even May and already my face and arms have a tan from the ever present sun. There is nothing I love more then summer so I don’t question natures strange behaviour, I just enjoy. The children are away from home and husband and I have dinner for two. After almost 28 years we don’t need words anymore. A sign, a gesture simple chitchat. Not touching the subjects that hurt. Taking the dog out for a stroll, through the park into the small forest. At a shady spot I hold still, spread my arms and feel the soft breeze touch my naked arms, play with my hair. Closing my eyes I feel one with nature and lonelier then I have ever been.

Those were the days

A semi heath wave, girls in skirts, legs the colour of winter. Men in denial, heavy coats hiding their sweating armpits. Huge fields of tulips are already in bloom somewhere in the west.
I wish I could take the car and drive to the coast. Days like these are for burying you feet underneath the sand. Penetrating the dry surface with ease, digging harder when hitting the wet solid layer. Listening to the sound of the waves crashing the beach, trying to reclaim land, pulling back in slow motion. Screaming seagulls and the laughter of a child carried away by the ever present breeze. Remembering how it used to be. Childhood vacations. A father, a mother, brothers and sisters. Endless days of playing in the shallow pools, trying to catch shrimp left behind by outgoing tide. Searching for special shells, thinking each one was more unique then the other. The taste of salt on your lips. Sand in your hair, ears and between your toes. Hide and seek in the dunes. Those were the days.
And here I am, typing away my nostalgia in the boss’s time while outside girls in skirts pass by, legs the colour of winter.

Privileged

Every year the director of our company selects a few promising new talents from the pre academy school. He enrols them in his private training program. His aim is to get them ready for the big stage in a shorter period then the academy. They get his undivided attention and he gives them his expertise. Under his guidance you can almost see them grow. At this moment they are working hard on their end of the year presentation. They use a studio which is just around the corner from my desk so I am in the privileged position to watch their progress and in the meantime enjoy the beautiful music that they use.
I so love my job

Kenny Rogers and the First Edition - Ruby

Aimless surfing does sometimes pay of. This is the one song I can still sing by heart.

Restless

A winter that wasn’t, followed by summer skipping spring. Could that be the reason why I am feeling restless, on edge? Nothing can hold my attention for very long. Surfing aimlessly, like in the old days, but everything seems to be about ratings and attracting visitors. Who cares. I can follow the soccer game on TV from the room next to mine without seeing it. The men in this house need to get headphones. Through the open balcony door I can hear a blackbird serenading the slowly vanishing sun. His song joyful. From across the water another one answers. All of a sudden the air is filed with the sound of singing birds, instant competition. The sound of a train crossing the bridge takes over for a few seconds, vanishing as fast as it began. High up in the air a flock of geese flying by in v formation. Destination unknown. Slowly I feel the tension leave my body.Another day comes to an end.

What Be Your Nerd Type? Your Result: Literature Nerd Does sitting by a nice cozy fire, with a cup of hot tea/chocolate, and a book you can read for hours even when your eyes grow red and dry and you look sort of scary sitting there with your insomniac appearance? Then you fit this category perfectly! You love the power of the written word and it's eloquence; and you may like to read/write poetry or novels. You contribute to the smart people of today's society, however you can probably be overly-critical of works. It's okay. I understand.
Social Nerd
Drama Nerd
Gamer/Computer Nerd
Artistic Nerd
Science/Math Nerd
Musician
Anime Nerd
What Be Your Nerd Type? Quizzes for MySpace

Although I have no idea if this is a good or a bad thing I thought you might like to know. I found this at AJH site this morning.

Nightlife

This is one of my older Dutch logs. Some of them are very precious to me. I would like to share them with you even if they do lose some of their strength or character due to translation.

At the end of the night, just before dawn awakes they come to visit. Using the emptiness in my well rested head to let me know they are still there. During the day the space is too filled for them to have a high profile. Friends and foes (old and new) family and vague acquaintances, all of whom, despite their vagueness, somehow seemed to have left a lasting impression. Alternately they make their entry. Sometimes a presence startles me. Banned from my life a long time ago, but still lingering in my mind. Some manage to bring back tears. Goodbyes said but I still did not come to terms. Anger about those that irritate me, keep hassling me, even at night. One thing they all have in common. They wake me up. In the stillness of the bedroom I sometimes try to hold on to the feeling by not opening my eyes and to keep the image moving as if projected forever in my brain. Only sounds penetrate. The breathing of my husband. Extensive scratching of the dog, despite the limitations of her basket. The child on the other side of the wall turns around in his sleep.
For a short time I am alone with my thoughts. The sound of the alarm slowly wakes up the rest of the house. The pace of life takes over once again, to be followed by yet another night.

Music

If there is anything I like as much as reading and writing, it’s listening to music. I have a huge collection on my pc (mostly 60’s and 70’s stuff) I wanted to share some of my favourites with my Dutch readers and I created a poll so they could let me know what they would like to hear. If you want to have some influence, go to my Dutch site and vote. This weeks choice is already out, so without further ado.Ladies and gentlemen …Leonard Cohen

PS Somehow I can't get the link to work. You can get the song from the Dutch site. My apologies.

Departure

Her room looks empty even though she has tried to cover the spots on the wall where her posters used to be with pages of a fashion magazine. No clothes thrown in the old chair, no more makeup on the little white cupboard that she had decorated herself with blue stars. Gone are the little boxes with jewellery, some too childish to be worn but to valuable to toss out. Her mirror no longer covered with flowers, cards and little elves. No more books and papers all over the floor. Not for the last time she carries the heavy bag downstairs. A lot of her stuff will need to be moved in the coming weeks. One more glance around as if to say goodbye. I follow her down the all familiar stairs. She adds half a loaf, a jar of peanut butter and a carton of breakfast cereal to her already overstuffed bag. She declines my offer to drive her to the station. She has her student’s pass that enables her to use public transport for free and the bus is just as fast, if not faster. Dreading the moment to come, she kisses me again and again. “You can call me tonight if you like.”
I watch her until she reaches the end of our street. Out of sight, but never out of mind. At least I know she will be back on Wednesday for a babysitting job next door. Holding back the tears I think of all those parents that will never ever get the chance to watch their children walk away ever again and I thank god that guns are still forbidden in this country

Sissy day

I come from a family of 6. Two brothers and three sisters and my place is somewhere in the middle. The oldest from the three youngest, if that makes any sense. By the time we totally unexpectedly lost our dad in 95 we were all married and all living in different parts of the country. Taking care of our mother became our main target. At her 80h birthday party (spend in our favourite place on the coast)we girls decided that we should really see more of each other and sissy day was born. Also included was the one sister-in law that had been a part of our family for so long she was more of a sister then an in law. Twice a year we spend a whole day, just us girls, in a different city of our choice, doing fun things. A little shopping, good food, some drinks, a little culture thrown in and you have the recipe for success. During the years our sissy day has turned into an even bigger event as two cousins and the wife of one of our nephews decided to tag along. Tomorrow will be the first one in this year. We are going to meet in Utrecht. The weather forecast is great (it seems we skip spring to jump right into summer), some money in my pocket and this day will be another huge success.

The Rasterbator

Reading my favourite magazine I found a link to this cool program that helps you create posters from your own pictures. It’s going to cost you a whole lot of paper and ink, but imagine the fun you can have by sorting through your pictures and putting them up all over your house.
I used one of my old pictures to show you what the result looks like. For this picture alone I would have to use 25 A4 sized sheets.
The Rasterbator, kinky name for a funky program

Unpredictable

Sick and tired of being pre-menopausal. I seemed to be doing ok for a while and then, wham! it hit me again. Headaches’ so bad they made me want to hit my head against the wall. A feeling of dread, total misery and hot flashes that seemed to come out of nowhere to set my head on fire. My female readers are going to crucify me for saying this but I do honestly understand men that want to trade in their wife’s during this phase for younger models. I’m not saying they should, heck no. They are heroes for sticking it out, but I do understand. Nothing so unpredictable, so nauseating emotional as a pre-menopausal women. I spend most of this gloriously beautiful weekend on the couch, zapping the day away and crying my eyes out over for instance an image of a crying child, a memory flash from way back when and The sound of music. Maybe it is high time to get some treatment….The sound of music, for crying out loud!

Happy Easter

Just in case I don't get to post anything during the weekend, I would like to wish all my readers a very Happy easter!

Ashes to ashes

Bonez log about Keith Richards snorting his father's ashes made me raise an eyebrow . What on earth did he think he would get out of it beside a very dirty nose? The biggest buzz ever? the ultimate high? However, there has been a case in Holland that might have escaped your attention. Andre Hazes, a very popular singer of what we call the “tearjerker” genre passed away a couple of years ago. Before his widow blasted his ashes into orbit in giant rockets, (he had always wanted to travel in space) she had bits of his ashes tattooed in her and their children’s bodies (an 11 year old girl and 7 year old boy!) . Ashes to ashes is starting to get a whole new meaning.

Bug

I found this bug in my mail today...see...right here...

Feeling good

I found this video on Anna Maria's blog. One of my favourite Dutch Blogs.
A wonderful project by a young guy with a good sense of what life should really be all about.
Here you'll find more information and here what Matt is all about. My kinda guy!

Bits and pieces

This must be my tenth attempt to write a new blog and I fear it will end up in the virtual bin as well. Keeping up a second blog in a different language is much harder then I care to admit. I have been blogging in Dutch for so long already, it feels like I’m copying my own words. To be interesting enough to get (and keep) your attention I feel like I have to pull out all stops. I have no easy witty banter, there are no amazing stories about my life. Ordinary woman, no great adventures, no inventions that rocked the world, nothing out of the ordinary. I cry when I hear beautiful music, I smile when I hear a child’s laughter and I get mad when someone steps on my toes. Proud of my children, still in love with my husband after all these years. Embracing life with a force that sometimes frightens me. Death and spiders the only things that scare me. I have my frustrations, my doubts, my insecurities , would love to be able to leave something of substance behind when my time has come.
There is more, much more and maybe if I find the right rhythm I will be able to share all that with you.