Minnesota is Heaven, But Virginia is Home

I think I'm going to take a leave of absence, guys. I have had a rough week, I know not in comparison to some, I know, but still, I am not in the mood to write. At least, not anything terribly positive. How does a couple of weeks sound? Is that OK? Great, then I'll be back in a couple of weeks. Until then, I'll work on getting an attitude adjustment. That's a promise.

So, I'm a single parent again. Dooce is griping about it on her blog too. I should say "whining", what am I afraid of? That she'll come over and read my little blog, the Grand Poobah-ess of the blogosphere? She is kind of whining, although Leta certainly doesn't seem like the easiest of children to single parent. Anyhoo. My husband is currently somewhere in Romania. Am I spelling that correctly? That looks strange. Maybe there's another "u". Roumania? Whatever. You all know what I'm talking about. He left this morning. Get this: we elected to drive him to the airport this morning at 7:30 rather than have him leave his car. The airport, on a good day, is a 10 minute trip from our door. That's with no traffic on the autobahn. We dropped him off, no problem. It was the trip back that sucked. It took us an hour and twenty-five minutes to get back home. I still have no idea why. There were no accidents, no mangled bodies, no...

There, how's that for an unusual title? I don't think that there is actually score-keeping during the 4 & 5-year-old soccer matches. If there was, the Horses definitely would have lost yesterday. The Sharks were just on fire! Fire, I tell you! I'm pretty sure that some of those kids are on steroids. Not to get off topic right away, but I read a story online today about a 33-year-old woman from Wisconsin (imagine that) who, wanting to experience high school because she had dropped out, used her 15-year-old daughter's ID and pretended to be a high school student. She went out for cheerleading and everything. Surprisingly enough, it didn't take long for the school to realize that something was fishy. I would have thought that there are lots of 33-year-olds in high school in Wisconsin. (HaHa, sorry Chad). Seriously, who can't tell the difference between 15 and 33? That's actually the second story I've read this week about someone posing as someo...

Time to reveal another nerdy tidbit about me. I have been waiting for " thirtysomething " to be released on DVD forever . Apparently, I'm not alone as there seem to be a lot of people ranting on Netflix and Amazon, foaming at the mouth because this series has yet to hit the market. Does anyone else out there remember this show? It debuted in 1987, which was a surprise to me as in my golden memories of yore, I feel like I was older when I was hanging with Jan watching it. I was only thirteen or fourteen. I don't remember what channel it was on, but it wasn't on CBS, that I know for sure. Anyway, I remember watching it from time to time and thinking that the characters and their situations were so... mature and romantic . Being in your thirties? Married to a hunk advertising exec? Living in a gorgeous old house? Having babies? Having crisis after crisis? It all seemed so exotic, but it didn't make a whole lot of sense to my 13-year-old self. So anyway, I got tir...

I'll give you all three guesses who has generously loaned me some dirndls... Now come on, who else would have such a thing in her closet? That's right, it's my MIL, Donna. I haven't tried the cream colored one yet, but the blue one fits me just right. I couldn't drink too much beer or eat too much bratwurst because there's not too much room for error. I might burst one of those pretty buttons! I showed it to Jen, who says that I look "Very German". To which I responded, well I am German after all. She says that folks around here wear their dirndls at Christmas and Easter, and by "folks around here" I mean people on base. So if we don't make it to Munich for Octoberfest, I'll wear it at Christmas. Thanks Donna!

Wow. A really, really good picture of Hans. Of course, I know how handsome he is in real life, it's just not always easy to catch the elusive animal on film. For one, he hates having his picture taken. And then, you would not believe how super-hard it is to get one of him with his eyes all the way open. He usually looks like he's three sheets to the wind. And smiling? Woah. Now, if he would have been showing some teeth, this picture would have been the trifecta. And it's a perfect picture of me too, because you can only see half of me and I have my mouth shut. I look...pensive or something. That's a framer, Kit. Picture compliments of the JenStur August Collection . I keep telling her to go professional. Here's the proof.

I am woefully behind, despite posting several entries about our Normandy adventure. First, Mont St. Michel was wonderful. The hotel, Le Mere Poulard, was very nice and extremely clean. I have learned my lesson in terms of French hotels. Three stars or higher is the way this lady will travel from now on. Now, if only I could get used to French cuisine. We ate at one nicer restaurant on Mont St. Michel...I tried to be adventurous and ordered the local specialty, the Le Mere Poulard omelette, thinking it would be like something from a delicious greasy-spoon cafe. Yeah, not so much. They whip the eggs for their omelettes up until they are uber-thin and soupy, fry it for a moment while continuously whisking it in the pan, so that once it's "done", it's little more than a plate full of froth. There was not any cheese or ham to be found in that omelette. It was like eating a cloud. Luckily for me, the Normandy apple tart that I had for desert was plenty filling and...

I'll try to post soon about Mont St. Michel and our adventures there... Until then, here are a bunch of pictures, broken out into location. Scroll down because there are four or five entries. Gotta go and do another load of laundry!

Inside the abbey The cloisters Our reflection in one of the inumberable halls, refrectories, etc. in the abbey Our hotel, Le Mere Poulard, home of Mont St. Michel's famous omelette

Brecourt Manor As I mentioned...probably not that popular until "Band of Brothers" At the Airborne Musee in St. Mere Eglise Brecourt Manor

I'm not a big one for bunkers--too claustrophobic

Surprisingly energetic for people who were up at 3:00 a.m. and were carsick...