Self reflections

She hears him calling out to her. The woman in the mirror looks familiar yet different. The roots in her hair show more grey then she cares for. Deep lines run from the side of her nose to the corners of her mouth. The fire in her eyes is missing. Tired, she looks tired. This is one of those days that she wishes she could just curl up on the couch and disappear in the book she happens to read . Days like today remind her that she left her youth behind. Her body starts to ache. A dull pain that penetrates her bones. Looking back, there are no regrets. Nothing she would do different. Well…maybe she would have had more children. The one thing she knew she excelled in, raising children. She lived her life with a passion that was all consuming. Now, at this age, not a day goes by that she doesn’t have a moment of self reflection. Enjoying the little things become important. A song that brings back memories, an unexpected letter or just the warmth of the sun on her face.
Turning away from the mirror she answers the man downstairs. The light in her eyes slowly returned.

Sitting down to write a blog, my mind started to wander and I wrote this text. I have no idea if this is going to develop into a story or if this is just the one of.
Sometimes I just surprise myself.

Do you read me?

This is what my bookcase looked like after having saved each and every paperback I bought through the years. Up until last week. When I found Jenn crying over the price of books in the Netherlands a while ago. Finding a new home for my precious' paperbacks was all the encouragement I needed to finally dive in and clear out. My bookcase hasn't looked this organized in ages.
Today my husband drove me across the country to deliver two large boxes filled with reading material. Meeting Jenn was wonderful and I instantly fell in love with her kids. Thank you Jenn, for your hospitality, your delicious coffee and equally delicious scones. I’m sure we will meet again soon!

Spool.fm

Tony send me the link to Spool .fm and ever since that moment I can’t stop playing with this amazing new tool. Starting out I only typed in artists I knew, but slowly I’m beginning to discover that searching while using single words is much more fun. I already tried blue, white, love and angels so far. The last one made me discover the song that I also found on you tube, so you can enjoy it as well. .If you get as hooked as I do, don’t forget to drag and drop the songs you like to the left and save the play list. By clicking on the date on top of the tab you can erase the date and give each list its own name. Spool also has the possibility to allow someone to synchronize on songs you are listening too. Try it and find little treasures as this one.

Cocooning

Under my eyes in my own backyard.

Suburbia

The city is ugly and smells of exhaust fumes and decay. Buildings waiting to be torn down, boarded up, sinister. Dragging my tired behind home I start to breath lighter as I cross the river. Just a slight slope up before I race downhill, taking the bike path that has a sharp bend, into the tunnel underneath the busy road and inhaling deeply at the exit. Green pastures come into view. The dyke on my left and a nature reserve on my right. Huge amounts of geese enjoying their evening meal, while the ones on look out loudly announce my arrival, trying to out do traffic noise. One more steep little hill and I am on top of the dyke. It gives me an even more spectacular view of the reserve. Wide bodies of water, green trees, and bushes as far as the eye can see .The traffic noise on the left still in my ear. At the end of the dyke I turn again, one more downhill ride. Like a child I take my feet of the pedals and let my bike run free. As by magic all the city sounds disappear. Blackbirds joyously announce my arrival. As I continue through our suburban park, passing the pond, the allotments, and the pancake restaurant the only sound I hear is the singing of birds, the quacking of ducks and occasionally a croaking frog. Shedding the city as if taking of a cloak that wears me down I instantly forget how tired I am. Life is good

Lurking?

The past week was anti lurk week on web logs in Holland. I only caught on last night, too late as usual. Still…maybe I can get my readers here to leave me a line.
Come out, come out …wherever you are…

Reflections

From the bathroom across the landing I watch her as she types away. Her fingers flying over the keyboard as if they are in a race for fastest typist in the world. In between lines she lifts up her head to read reactions from the other side of the monitor. A wide grin on her face, laughing out loud every now and then. “If he could only see how happy he makes you” I think while I observe this one way conversation. With all our mod cons, getting to know each other seems to be no longer down to secret dates in the park or sneaking a kiss in the schools bike shed. We bare our souls in front of a 15 inch screen. Facial expressions have been replaced by emoticons. Saddened by my own thoughts I turn away from the smiling child that doesn’t seem to know how much better it is to have this conversation while sitting opposite the other person, holding hands and seeing your own laughter reflect in his eyes.

Home sweet home

The southern hills, green countryside, wide open views, people with sing song voices. Even though I left it more then thirteen years ago, it still is my home. Today I went back to meet up with my brothers and sisters, to celebrate our youngest nephew’s first communion. The moment I pass the sign that says “Welcome to Limburg” I leave the homesickness behind and my spirits soar. The bond I have with my family is strong and although I never said it out loud, I love each and every one of them. Unconditionally and with a strength that could move mountains if need be. They know, as I know the feeling is mutual. Time, as time goes, didn’t stop. The hour to leave approached and I felt my heart grow heavy. Saying goodbye, one more hug for the little ones. Sharing just a few more titbits of information before we head for the door.
The first weekend in June, when my oldest sister celebrates her sixties birthday, we will all meet again. I can’t wait.

Days long gone

I’m working full time this week and once I come home, the only thing I want to do is crash down on my sofa, remote in hand and a drink within reach. Most of the time I don’t even manage to stay awake for the eight o’clock news. Where are the days that I could hit the town after a long week and stay out all weekend, dancing and drinking the nights away, turning up bright and cheerful for work again on Monday morning?
Those were the days.

Mothers day

Mothersday was special when the children were young. Little poems learned by heart at school, hand made presents. I saved each and every one. Breakfast in bed with more food then I would normally eat in a week. Their exciting faces watching me open the presents. Wonderful moments of motherhood. The moment they became aware of the commercial site of mothers day I put a stop to it. No expensive gifts, no huge bouquet of flowers could ever replace the exciting innocence it used to have.
All of you who still have little children at home. I wish you a wonderful day today!

Nightlife

The Chinese restaurant just around the corner is where we were supposed to meet, but when I got there, it wasn’t the place I knew. There were strange men who all spoke my language. The menu was a mixture of Chinese and Russian and something I couldn’t identify. Although I felt like a complete stranger everyone seemed to know me. They even made me serf the only couple that was sitting at a table in the back. Somehow I knew the drinks I was bringing them and who had ordered what.
When finally my date arrived it wasn’t my husband but it felt right. The walls around us disintegrated, people I didn’t know kept asking me about the age of my son. No one questioned me about the man who was holding my hand. As we left through a very small corridor he bent over and I thought he was going to kiss me, but he only straightened my collar.
“Let me show you my favourite part of town” I said although the surroundings where totally unfamiliar. Beautiful old houses with gorgeous flowers in their windowsills. A very steep alley with cobblestones that led to a wide square. A young boy with a puppy came running up to us and greeted us as if we were his parents. “I need to go” He said “I wish I could stay, but I need to go” I watched him leave and just as I thought that the pain I felt was my punishment I woke up. I feel weird ever since

Diino

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Tell it like it is

I have always liked Tori Amos, with this song she stole my heart. Way to go Tori!

Decline

There is a huge age difference between the man in this house and me. Sixteen years to be precise. This has not been a problem and it never will be either. Now he is slowly going towards 70 his mind is as sharp as ever, but his body is showing signs of physical decline. After dinner he needs to hold on to the table to steady himself. His energetic pace is slowing down and if he sits for too long a period in his favourite chair he has trouble getting up. Small deficiencies are showing up. His hearing is deteriorating, ill-fated for a man who is already 100% deaf in one ear. Pain in his right leg covered with varicose veins. Trouble cutting his fingernails because he no longer has control over his right hand. Last week, after a special intimate moment I noticed for the first time that his chest suddenly has disappeared. That broad body that I could always hide behind, the strong arms that would hold and protect me. They all seem to have disintegrated. With one extra kiss and a strong embrace I said goodbye in silence.

History part two

There I was 17 going on 70, lost in a world of my own. Flunking high school because they didn’t teach what I needed, wanted to know, drifting from job to job until my mom decided to take me away for a vacation. The first time I set foot in Israel and I fell in love instantly. The warmth of the people, the country and last but certainly not least Avi. A blue eyed blond soldier that could pass for anything but Jewish. I returned to stay only a few months later. Settled in a kibbutz just of the Gilboa mountain, I had the time of my life. Trying to learn the language, picking olives at the wake of dawn, serving in the dining room I made heaps of friends and never, not for a moment was I ever aware of being in danger.

Returning home almost a year later I found a place to live and for a while I seemed to settle down. It wasn’t for long though. The add for stewardesses on a river cruise gave me a second change to escape. That was the point of no return. After the season I went to Portugal and Spain with a colleague. Three months of exploring and drifting from place to place until my money ran out. Not wanting to go home again I called in some favours and took the train to England.
London, what is there not to love? Starting in Wembley and slowly worked my way into the inner City. Kings Road had a famous night club called Wedgies and they hired me as a receptionist. About 8 months down the road the club was losing it’s members to Annabelle’s, the new place to be and it was time to move on. By now I had developed a taste for travelling so I went back to Holland to work as a river cruise stewardess once more. My aim was to safe up enough money to make the giant step across the ocean. America here I come but fate had different plans for me.

Just a note

A great new gadget for people who really don't have the time to blog!

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Magic moments

While I was enjoying myself last night at Paradijs Poesjkin my (blog)friend Marina went to a concert in one of the best known venues in Amsterdam, named Paradiso. At least I can still enjoy what she saw on you tube, Paradijs Poesjkin was a once in a lifetime experience. After May 20 it will (probably) never be seen again.

Map my name

A few students think it is possible to map all internet users within 19 days. I'm game.





This came Koosje her through madam Mikmak.

Sweet tooth?

Somehow I must have missed al the commotion, but luckily he had this video on his site.

Buy only at Tony's Chocolonely!

PC-TV

Most of you probably know about this program already, but not me . Once again through MyBlogLog I found an invitation on his site and from now on , thanks to Adrian, I can watch TV on my PC. I am impressed by the amount of channels and then there is more, so much more.
I am not able to invite others to join, but If and when I do I will let you certainly let you know. In the meantime, Adrian still has some invites for grabs. Wouldn’t it be fun to know we are all watching the same channel and at the same time to be able to chat even if we are miles apart. The word “Groovy” comes to mind…

Personal Closet

Through Mybloglog I found this really great site. I know I would make a nice bit of pocket money if I cleaned out my overstuffed wardrobes. Unfortunately for me, the package costs will probably exceed the asking price

History part one

On october 16, 1955 I was born as my parents fifth child (fourth girl), two more children would follow. One girl one boy. Their firstborn Emma had died at a very young age of cancer.
My parents met and fell in love during ww II. She was the oldest daughter of a family with high social standing in the small coalmining town in the south of Holland. My father an only child of simple but solid parents who settled in the south later in life. He worked as an engineer at the mine so that would make me a coalminers daughter.

I remember waking up early in the morning and watching the men from the early shift make their way to the mine. They would joke and swing the blocked towels that held their food and metal flask filled with tea or coffee, on the rhythm of their steps. Helmets slightly askew on their heads. Soon after the men from the nightshift walked by going in opposite direction, silently, black rimmed eyes. Dragging their feet and coughing up pieces of the air they had inhaled all night. And still it was a good life. Southern communities, separating themselves from the rest of the country by the singsong way of talking, easygoing warm-hearted, finding reasons for celebrations in the smallest things. Held together by their faith and the catholic church. Everyone knew everyone. Family was all that mattered. The mine the bond they all shared.

My recollection of my early years are fairly happy. Summers spend at the seaside, a luxury not given to many, a loving father and a mother who seemed to dote on us. Little did I know. I can’t remember when the laughter stopped and the screaming began. It is not important anymore anyway. My rebellious puberty had a lot to do with these unhappy years. Wanting to break away. Trying so hard to find love but looking in the wrong places. Giving my body to easily and breaking hearts in the process. I did a lot of things I’m not proud of. It took me a while to realise that true love can’t be found on the surface. Call it growing up the hard way.