Andy in Amsterdam

So the questions was: ‘But you are going to keep doing some yoga, right?’ This was from my yoga guru, Patty. The answer is Yes. I don’t do a lot of yoga each time (it’s mostly my routine of five to seven minutes), but I am enjoying it and I sometimes do it twice a day. And I’m almost ready to add more to it, although I suppose I should make doing a headstand each time part of my normal routine before moving on. Yes, a headstand. But sometimes I just can’t imagine doing it, so I don’t. But yes, dear Patty, I am keeping up with my yoga practice. I use breakfast as my reward.

I’ve somehow gotten into Twitter. I didn’t think I would. I’ve made a couple of unsuccessful passes at it. I think part of what has kept me interested this go-round is following some people who fun to follow. Erin, a dedicated blog reader for years, is one I’ve enjoyed getting to know via Twitter. I think what I like about it is that it’s interactive. She tweets something and I comment and she comments back. I also follow Miranda who does a lot of re-tweeting, mostly stuff that she finds inspirational. I don’t like a steady diet of that, but she is a good picker and I like her in the mix. Kathy, my lovely sister, keeps me up on her life via Twitter. That’s how I found out she now owns a very ‘cooperative’ dog. Finally, I just started following UnderDutchSkies. She seems sort of into it. Notice that these are not hyper-linked to their accounts as I don’t have permission from any of them. Ladies? Not sure how you all feel about that.

I also like following some celebrities: The cast of The A-List: New York is interesting to read as they wander through their lives as (seriously guys?) B- or C-list celebs. And I’m geared up to follow the cast of Glee when that starts up again. Getting things organized on Twitter was a huge part of it. It’s less overwhelming. I am, by the way, AndyinAmsterdam on the Twitter.

Last week on Ravlery, I read about a list that was in Newsweek. It’s entitled 31 Ways to Get Smarter in 2012. (That link is via The Daily Beast.) The reason that was mentioned in a knitting forum was because ‘Join a Knitting Circle’ is on the list - right under ‘Eat Dark Chocolate’. The reason given (for knitting) is: Refining motor ability can bolster cognitive skills. There are things on the list (thank goodness) that I already do: Play an Instrument, Drink Coffee and Learn a Language - to name a few. And there are also a few items on the list that I would like to fold into my life - Sleep a Lot, Take Tae Kwon Do, Write Reviews Online - to name a few.

Also taking up my time of late is Words with Friends (which is first on the list, by the way.) I used to have a friend who was really good at Scrabble. I hated it because she always slaughtered me. I went into Words with Friends (it’s an app for the smart phone) with little enthusiasm, but I am much better at it now. Plus, I’m learning new worlds. There’s not a lot of ways one can use RAX or ES or ABA in a sentence, but they’re good words to know for the game. (There are some crazy words out there.)

So add this to the list of things I’m already doing - like knitting and working a lot (but only until the end of January because job #2 ends then) - one might think I do a lot. And I do. I’m just sort of built like that. I like to have a lot of irons in the fire. I like to have projects and ongoing things and connections. It’s who I am.

It goes in waves. There are times when I’m crazy busy and times when I have less going on. Like right now, I have exams to grade and a report to edit. I’d better get on that. Sunday as a day of rest ? That’s a cute idea.

Yesterday was my first day at the new gym. It was overwhelming. I felt like I knew what to do, but I wanted someone there to walk me through the basics, to give me a basic routine and acquaint me with where things were. A lot of gyms will do that. This gym does not. So I took one of the pre-planned basic routines that were hanging on the wall and I walked around trying to find the right machines. I must have circled the gym thirty times. I’m sure some people thought I was up to something. It’s just that machines, which were supposed to be numbered, were not all numbered and were in no particular order - 13 sat right next to 28. And 17 on the sheet is now 15.

The last time I had a gym membership was around the year 1998. After a number of years going to the gym regularly, I bored of it and decided to stop. At the same time, I was preparing to go to graduate school and I realized that going to the gym would be a huge time suck while I was working full time, going to classes and doing homework. I thought it would be interesting to see how my body would look if I didn’t work out. It was fine. I was 35 and I sort of got lucky in terms of my metabolism and basic body structure. So I didn’t do anything and I was fine.

Then towards the end of graduate school, I was talking to a colleague about wanting to do something physical that was not just lifting weights, and she mentioned that she’d met a guy who did a martial art called Peokoelan. There was a studio near my apartment in NYC. I tried it, fell in love and eventually rose to the level of white sash, which sounds like the bottom rung, but it was not the very bottom rung, just the bottom rung of the upper level. Eventually, things got strange at the studio and I bowed out. Plus, I was planning a move to Amsterdam.

Since I’ve been here, my workout has consisted of lots of bike riding and lots of knitting. The bike riding is really just for transportation, but I am sort of a maniac. I ride a bike like I drive a car or like I used to walk in NYC. If I’m not passing the person in front of me, I don’t feel like I’m going anywhere. So I go fast if there’s not something in my way.

Some time ago, I had a little flirtation with yoga, but I didn’t love it as much as I wanted to. And all of the instruction was in Dutch, which taught me a few new words, but at the end of it, I decided to not continue. It felt like I was in the Intermediate class and I should have been in the Beginners class, although the class was labeled Beginners.

For the past two years at Thanksgiving, Patty has made me do a little yoga. She emailed me a little ten minute program. I’ve been doing it. I enjoy it. I got a yoga mat for Christmas. I’d like to get better at it. Then I saw a program that made me think having some muscles might be nice. I’m a gay guy. I’ve got to represent. Plus, I’m 46. I mean, I still have a pretty fortunate figure for a guy who sits and knits as much as I do, but it’s probably time to start doing something.

My search for a gym led me to a gym that is €19.95 per month with everything. That’s peak hours (as opposed to being restricted to afternoons) and all classes (because I thought that might be fun). I signed up on Tuesday, was ill on Wednesday and finally made it to the gym on Friday. It’s an odd crowd. I spoke to a friend who goes to a very gay gym in the Center. He said, “Don’t go there. It’s all straight people. Quit and join my gym.”

“I’m not going to the gym to make friends and cruise,” I said. “I just want a basic gym.” Besides, his is €65.00 a month, which is more than I’m willing to pay for a gym membership at this juncture.

The crowd at my gym is interesting. It’s totally not gay. I feel like the odd man out. (At a gym! I know!) There is the older set, the retirees. It’s nice to see them. I’ll be there soon enough. There is the younger immigrant set. They sort of remind me of the Puerto Rican and Dominican busboys I used to see at my gym. They are probably not even Latinos. They travel in small packs. There are a lot of young Dutch women mostly doing cardio. And there are a fair number of young Dutch guys who seem really serious about working out. There are, of course, machine hogs. This one guy stood by a machine - using it off and on - for twenty minutes while he used it to lean on while he bloviated. Okay. Maybe it was five minutes, but it was annoying.

So my point of the gym is to get in there, work out and leave. And this morning I feel a little sore in places - particularly shoulders and muscles in my arms that I didn’t know I had. It’s the start of a whole new thing. Or it’s the start of my bank account being drained of €19.95 per month while I knit. We’ll see.

I’ll just mention that I just posted a whole piece on the knitting blog. You can get to it with this link. It’s about the last thing I finished and the two things I’m working on right now.

I always think of inertia in terms of that feeling of not being able to get up off the couch. Like if a person (I’m not saying who) decided to sit and knit a few rows (this isn’t about knitting - don’t worry) and he couldn’t muster the motivation to get his butt off the couch until it was absolutely necessary because, for instance, he had promised to get some supplies from a store that was going to close within the half hour. That is the first definition in my little pop-up dictionary widget I have on my computer: ‘a tendency to do nothing or remain unchanged.’

However, the image that comes to mind when I think ‘inertia’ is a rock hurtling through space. It will continue hurtling until some external force makes it turn or stops it. That’s the second definition in my pop-up dictionary: ‘a property of matter in which it continues in its existing state until that state is changed by an external force.’

That’s what I thought of the other day when it was seven o’clock and I was still moving around the apartment doing things. I had decided to go through my closet and put things in a donation bag. And then I took all my summer clothing and put them in boxes to put in the basement (in hopes that when I retrieve those boxes I will fill them with winter clothes and put them back in the basement.) I also emptied a small closet that I had not ventured into in years. In between all that, I cleaned the kitchen, folded laundry and tidied up that catch-all corner of the bedroom.

After I managed to set myself in motion in the early afternoon, I kept moving until I finally said, “Okay. You’ve done enough. You have to stop and make dinner.” I mean, it’s not like making dinner is nothing, but it’s different than folding clothes and sorting through paper. And it marks the beginning of the evening when I really can just relax, which usually entails knitting. But the point is, I had to make myself stop. My brain kept thinking of new things to do and something else that needed sorting.

It also happens when I get into exam grading mode. I’ve got a whole system. I won’t go into it.

December has been an interesting month. Not only have I had my regular classes at my regular school, but I had a very nice group of adults at the local offices of an international consulting firm. And then I was asked to substitute for five classes at a local college. (Thanks, Yvonne!) So my work week went from three days a week (and that’s a teacher’s week, so it’s more work than it actually sounds like to non-teachers) to five with a good amount of travel since by ‘local’, I mean that it was about a half hour away by train back and forth three days a week. So I was working a lot more in December. I wasn’t crazy busy, but I always had something on my mind. There was always that next thing that I had to prepare for.

During those two weeks, I counted how many classes I had. I had 20 classes in those two weeks. Now granted, some of them were only 45 minutes long, but most of them were like 1.5 to 2 hours. And while some of them were repeats, I had eleven different lessons to prepare each week. I was sort of amazed. It still meant taking attendance 20 times. And if I had a euro for every time I said ’stop talking’, I’d be shopping now instead of writing.

Today is the first day that I don’t have something due. (And I say that knowing that I have to turn in a couple of evaluation forms and some other stuff, so I actually do have stuff due.) We are also having people over on Saturday and I need to sort through a lot of papers and books. All those classes create an amazing amount of paper and books and folders. They are piled up in a frightening stacks on the dining room table. Plus, Kathy sent me some stuff that I picked up when I was in Ohio for Thanksgiving, so I have more papers and old journals. It’s amazing.

I’m hoping to whip myself up into a frenetic state today and get this table cleared off - or at least get it to where I have a reasonable plan. I was listening to an audio book on de-cluttering the other day (okay, that’s possibly why I was in that cleaning state). The problem with a book like that is that it’s about people who have filled their living space with masses of stuff. They have goat trails through the house. They can’t sleep on the bed because it is covered in stuff. I’m not like that. I’m a paper guy. I’m all papers and books. I come from hoarders, but having made two really big moves in my life, I don’t have as much stuff as I could. And Fred, while patient and kind, does not have limitless patience and kindness.

Not having a class to prepare for just makes me want to sit and knit. I won’t do that for now. I’ll tackle this table. It’s mostly just books and piles of exams. They have homes. It’s the new stuff that’s the challenge. I’m hoping sorting this all out will open up some head space for writing. And ukulele playing. Hmmmm.

Fred brought the blog up on his computer the other day and said, “Huh. Nothing about India.”

I said, “What have I been doing since we got back? Working.” And that has continued. But I’ve worked and blogged before, so that’s not the whole story.

The other night I started thinking about the blog. Like what’s it for? What’s its focus? I spoke to Alex the other day and we agreed that we’re sort of done writing about all the cute little Dutch things that happen all the time. Sinterklaas is coming up on 5 December. Someone please stop me if I write about that again. I’ve done it before. The bulb fields, the Dutch birthday party, Dutch cuisine. I’ve written about all of those, and they don’t change that much from year to year. So now what do I do?

I’ve had enough requests to stop writing about the knitting already. And as that is something that takes up a LOT of my time, that was sort of…not crippling, but hobbling, but I’ll survive.

What I’ve really had the desire to write about lately is the 2012 Republican presidential nomination process and what an absolute circus that is. But not everyone is familiar with all the characters involved and it could easily become just a big snipe-fest. However, I will not rule it out because the slate of candidates vying for the Republican nomination is such a joke. I’d love to go into it. I won’t do it today.

One of my latest obsessions is the ukulele. I’ve finished my course. We had a small recital-type thing. It went well. I have a suggestion or two for the next time, but it went well enough for what it was. I improvised on one song, which was terrifying and not all that good. (Think twelve measures of me feeling around in the dark picking on a ukulele.) And in one song that was not the right key for any of the women (and there were mostly women in the class) and to which none of the other men were willing to sing, I was the sole vocalist. The song was ‘Feeling Groovy’. That was fun. I was going to post a video here (my first) via the YouTubes, but I couldn’t get the video I made to load to YouTube properly. Stay tuned. That might still happen.

So I could write about my ukulele journey.

I must say that part of my struggle is that I don’t want to upset anyone. And the longer I’ve do this, the more I realize that I’m not blogging into a vacuum. I don’t have a crazy big audience, but there are people who read this blog, which gives me pause when I start thinking of good post ideas.

Like back to that politics thing, I have completely missed the opportunity to address the Rick Perry drama as it has unfolded. He got in and I rolled my eyes. I can’t understand why anyone thinks a governor from the state of Texas would be a good president. The country barely survived that last cowboy in the White House and these people think this guy would be a success? And as he has shown more and more of who he is, he is proving to everyone (except for those who have drunk the Kool-Aid and who even after his numerous gaffs and stumbles think that he would still be a good president) that is not the best choice. And Herman Cain. I have a few comments about Herman Cain And Michele Bachman.See? I could write every day about these people.

I am amazed that with a stage full of people who would give anything to be president (and that is not an exaggeration) that none of them have much of a shot. It will be Mitt Romney who is the Republican nominee in November. That is my prediction. And he is not electable because he’s Mormon. I know a few Mormons read/have read this blog. I don’t mean that as an anti-Mormon thing. I find Mormons fascinating. I just know how some Fundamentalist Christians view Mormonism and I think it will be a hard sell. I will say that I think a fair amount of Republicans hate Obama so much that they will probably just hold their nose and pull the lever for Romney. And the fact that he will say anything that he thinks will get him a vote is probably not good if anyone is actually thinking about voting for Romney - as opposed to the million of minions who will vote the way they are told to by the puppet masters of the Right Wing.

See? I do go on.

I told someone the other day that I an epiphany about the blog. It was along the lines of that I need to just write. If I’m writing about my struggles with how many strumming patterns I have learned on the ukulele, that’s fine. If it’s about politics, that’s fine. If it’s about travel, that’s fine.

If it’s about knitting, I’ll put it on the other blog: www.andyinamsterdamknits.blogspot.com. (This is my ‘fix’ since the link didn’t work. Thanks Alastair.)

At the end of this conversation I had with myself, I came to the realization that I like having a little corner of the Internet where I can write something and people can find it. I like being easy to find on the Internet - unlike an unnamed sibling of mine who appears to be doing his or her best to keep his or her information out of any webs that are worldwide. I like having a platform, even though it’s a small platform. So I don’t foresee stopping blogging. I just need to re-think the whole situation.

Also, I’ve been doing other writing, so blogging on top of that has proven challenging.

Fred and I are back from India. I’ll see about getting something up about that. It was a wonderful trip. Writing about it is my current big project. We’ll see what happens with that.

Fred and I were married three years ago today on a small boat on a canal in our neighborhood here in Amsterdam. The microscopic wedding that Fred wanted got just big enough to accommodate four people from each side. After the ceremony, we rode around Amsterdam for a while before having dinner at a little restaurant in the Center. It was a beautiful day. Every one was relaxed and supportive. Two of Fred’s sisters and their husbands were Fred’s guests. My guests were my sister Kathy, who flew over for about 52 hours; Patty, who flew over for just a day more; our friend Butch, who was here for a long vacation; and my friend Venessa, who was a local at the time. The service was bi-lingual and I cried like a baby during our vows. And it was caught on tape so I can watch it again and again!

I had written off getting married until I moved to Holland. When I was coming of age, it wasn’t a possibility. There were all sorts of legal hoops you could jump through (at least in NYC) with wills and documents that would help bond a couple legally, but it wasn’t the same. It was like a club I knew about that I just wasn’t going to get invited into. So I am still a little amazed that I’m actually legally married.

Years ago, I asked a couple I respected if they knew the arguments against same sex marriage. This was a couple who was very Right Wing and Conservative, but who I thought was supportive of me and supportive of my relationship with Fred. The answer I got back from them floored me. It was a whole list of reasons that, while supposedly well thought out, were absolutely ridiculous. And this was a couple who were on their second and third marriages.

Their reasoning was as follows: two men or two women cannot reproduce; the union of two men, even if they are monogamous will produce a disease that will kill off one or both of the partners; historically, cultures that had an emphasis on same sex relationships were not long lived; these relationships also introduce elements that hinder a long and rich and fulfilling life. Those are all direct quotes from their email.

When I asked for clarification and argued their points, I was met with “If you can’t understand logic, I can’t help you.” That was it. I lost a lot of respect for them that day. It was just selfish, hateful thinking. He can married three times (she twice), but I shouldn’t get married once?

These days, I have less and less patience for stupidity. (I’m sure they would say the same thing.) I just think that anyone who is still against marriage equality is just being stubborn and hanging on lame arguments. Or they’re just plain dumb. I can even see not wanting to marry or not wanting to marry again, but wanting to deny other people the right to get married is just mean. And having been married three years now, I can’t see how my marriage has done a bit of harm to society or anyone else’s marriage. It has only served to strengthen my bond with Fred and make me feel supported and loved. It’s a bit of a dream come true, as is Fred.

Incidentally, I still have contact with that couple on occasion. They sent an amazing wedding gift, which is sort of par for the course with them. I think it’s that they don’t believe gay people should get married, but they were happy for Fred and me. It’s the same way people differentiate between Black people in general and the Black people they know.

I’m very happy that marriage equality was passed in New York this past July. I think of all the friends I have there who have just gotten married or who are going to get married. It’s a wonderful thing to enter into this union with another person. It was a wonderful thing for me to realize who it was I was going to spend the rest of my life with. Fred’ a great guy. And he’s mine.

Happy Anniversary, Fred!

The title of this post is a basic translation of this sign, which is hanging near the grocery store I usually use. I had three days in a row of work and I feel like I’ve had a work out. I’m tired. The problem is that I’m not a lazy teacher. I walk around. I talk. I’m teaching along and then “Ken! Stop talking.” I make a point of speaking directly to every student every day. I forget how much energy I use. The school where I work is a very specific kind of disorganization. It arrived on Monday and they said, “We don’t have a room for you yet. Can you use the dance studio on the first floor today?”

Hmmm. No desks. No chairs. Nothing for them to write on. The books didn’t get ordered. Yeah, I can work with it.

Tuesday was messed up in a different way. And on Wednesday, I found out that I had a different schedule than the kids and that my classes had all had 15 minutes shaved off of them without me being told. Still, I love the school and it’s a short school year, so I’m sort of okay with it as a whole.

I used to get handed ’situations’ when I was a therapist in Brooklyn, (”Hey, three of us have to go to a meeting upstairs. Can you do something with like…all the patients?” And I’d say, “I guess. When?” And they’d say, “In like ten minutes.”) I learned to just roll with it. Rolling with it is one of those transferable skills that works well in most work environments. And you know what? Some people can’t do it.

The weather has changed from cloudy and gray (which is what it was in August) to cloudy and gray that feels like it’s about to get cold. I’m fortunate that sun is not important to me. It’s bright. It’s just not sunny. I love fall weather, so I’m okay with it. And I love the Fall because it’s the start of a lot of new things. My new ‘extra curricular’ activities this fall are (besides knitting, which is not new) Toastmasters and ukulele class.

I’ve been curious about Toastmasters for a while. I love the getting up and talking in front of people thing. I love that it scares the poo out of people and that I’m pretty good at it. I went to my first meeting last Friday. At the end, they were doing something called ‘Table Talk,” which is just impromptu speaking. If you were a guest and did not want to participate, they said, “Just push your water glass forward.” I did. The guy leading it talked about something relating to the subject (the subject that night was ‘change’) and then said, “Karen?” and Karen got up and spoke for two minutes. So I was sitting there half listening when he says, “Andy?”

I made an agreement with myself years ago that I would say ‘yes’ if I was asked to do something like that. I just don’t want to be ‘that guy’ who backs off because he’s scared or nervous. Plus, I like doing things that are scary in that way. So I stood up and I spoke for a minute and a half on ‘When you have a problem do you solve it or dissolve it?’ (Huh?) And I was pretty good. That’s what put me over the edge in terms of thinking I would like it. So I’ll try it for a couple of times and decide if it’s for me before I join.

And tonight is my first ukulele class. I’ve been looking forward to it all week. I have my uke all tuned up and ready to go. I bought a new elastic band for the back of my bike so I don’t have to carry my ukulele case while I’m driving the bike. I mean, I’ll have a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. How am I supposed to carry a ukulele case? Am I right?

(I’m kidding.)

And props (or ‘propes’ as Rick Perry says) to my friend, Chris, who totally came through with a ukulele teacher in Amsterdam. Ask and ye shall receive. She’s not that far away and she’s very affordable.

I saw this the other day on the bench in front of our building. It’s an insect I just don’t get. It looks like a giant mosquito, but they don’t bite. They’re clumbsy and they look useless. I don’t know what they’re called and I can’t imagine what they’re good for. They probably don’t pollinate. They probably aren’t a predator. They just look like bird food. If one is in our apartment, I will catch it and put it outside. I’d kill it, but that would be like adding insult to injury. Plus there’s the mess. So I’m wondering if anyone knows what they are called.

And with that completely out of nowhere last bit, I bid you farewell and thank you for reading.

This is a photo of a church in Florence and has nothing do do with this post.

I just heard a podcast on memories. They were talking about how memories, as clear and true as they may feel, might not be exactly what really happened during the actual event. Apparently, every time a person takes a memory out of its box, it changes a little. It’s influenced by things that happened after the event. It’s edited and edited again. Of course, during the podcast they brought up 9-11.

They said that someone had the wherewithal the day after 9-11 to ask people what they were doing when they heard that the Twin Towers had been attacked. Then they came back to them later (a year or so) and asked them to tell their story again. And for most people, it had changed. Like, important parts were different - not just the color of their shirt. I have no doubt that my memory of what I was doing that day is really what I was doing, but I also know I edit.

For instance, my main memory, the high point of my ‘what I was doing’ story is that I was looking right at the towers from Union Square in NYC as the second plane flew into the second tower. I remember gasping. I remember saying, “Look!” to the people around me who were talking to each other. But every time I see footage of that happening, the shape of the fire ball is different. And I think, That’s strange. It was rounder than that.

I always think of 9-11 as something that happened to New Yorkers. It was an attack on our city. We were the ones who saw people walking up from Ground Zero covered in ash. We were the ones who saw little makeshift memorials all over the place. We were the ones who saw all those fliers with pictures and details about someone who worked in the towers saying, “If you’ve seen our daughter, please contact us.” During the next six months we saw friends for the first time, always with the story of where we’d been, what we’d been doing. It was constant talking about 9-11 for months. Every aspect. Stories told over and over.

Lydia, my SamenSpraak partner, told me a couple of weeks ago that she was glued to the TV that day. Apparently, most of the world was watching the coverage. And it hit me then that it wasn’t just New Yorkers who were affected. It was a big world event. So I get it that it doesn’t just belong to people who lived in New York. I understand that everyone felt the kick in the gut that that tragedy was. But there’s a very snobby part of me that really believes that as much as it may have really affected you, if you weren’t in NYC during that time, there’s a depth of anxiety and sadness that you just can’t really understand. I think it’s like losing a parent. I can imagine what it would be like, and I’ve heard about it, but since I haven’t lost mine, I know I don’t really completely understand it.

I had no idea what I was going to write about today. I didn’t want to recount what happened to me that day. I didn’t want to rail against all of the completely ridiculous ’safety’ measures that have been put into place since then. (Taking off your shoes in American airports? That really has to stop.) And then I got an email inviting me to Ceremony of Remembrance and Hope in Wassenaar organized by Overseas Americans Remember and I knew exactly where I wanted to be: as far away from that as I could get. I know people need to do stuff like that, but I do not have to be a part of it. I honor their intentions and I know it needs to be done or it would be like they were ignoring the whole thing, but being there would make me want to crawl out of my skin. Again, that’s just me being a snob. I just think, You people don’t really get it. You saw the TV version of it. Yes, it still had a huge impact, but it was the cleaned up version. You missed all the ragged emotions that went on and on every day for months.

I don’t think about that day - or even the following year - that much. It’s in a little box in my brain and I drag it out once in a while and look at the images, feel the feelings, remember things, and then I put it all back. I feel like I’ve processed it to death. I’ve talked about it. I’ve written about it. I’ve journalled.

No one really talks about the aftermath, which is what I think about. It’s like Haiti. I’m sure Haiti is still a wreck. (It was a wreck before the tsunami.) But it’s out of the news. That’s how it was in New York. For anyone outside New York, when it was out of the news it was sort of over. For those of us who lived there, it went on and on and on. I’m so glad it’s over.

So here’s to the people who lost their lives. Here’s to the survivors. Here’s to anyone who remembers life before 9-11. It was the end of an era.

This is the continuation of the list I began in my last post. It’s also a re-post of something I’ve already post. But some people couldn’t see it, so I re-typed the whole thing. Copying and pasting tore it up somehow. (Thank you, Miranda, for nagging.)

6. Fred and I went to Cyprus for a week in late June. I could probably write a blog post (or several) about the strange things we did and saw in/on that strange little island country, but I won’t. Cyprus is such a random place - and we’ve been there twice. And we will probably go back at least one more time because there are some ‘amazing’ artifacts on the occupied Northern side of the country. But when I think about whether or not I would suggest it as a vacation destination, I always say no. Is it because it’s so great that I want to keep it to myself? No. It’s because there’s not a lot to it. It’s hot. If you like hot, it’s a great place. But Texas or New York City (in the summer) or most of North America and any number of other places are also hot. We (read: Fred) chose Cyprus because it looked like our hotel was right on the sea and that there was a beach. It was on the sea, bu there was no beach to speak of. It was all rocks. We toured in the mornings, sat on the lawn (in lounge chairs) under an umbrella in the afternoon (while I knit swatches), ate at the hotel restaurant every night, and drank lots of Starbucks from the only Starbucks in the city. There are things to see, but it was so hot that all I really wanted to do was get back under my umbrella. It was nice to be away. It was even nicer to get back home.

7. I took an Advanced Dutch Fluency class. I believe I am now C1.1 or something. I took the class from one of the language schools at which I teach. I asked for more money per hour or a free class and they gladly let me take a class for free. (If that comes up again, I’m going to take beginner’s Russian.) Anyway, there were three of us: a young woman from South Africa who, oddly, does not speak Afrikaans; a Moroccan woman who, amazingly, has lived here only a year (and we’re in the same class); and me, who is both odd and amazing. The Moroccan woman wore a headscarf and was very open and a lot of fun to talk to. I haven’t really had intense contact like that (five days a week for two hours for two weeks) with a Moroccan woman in a headscarf before. Anyway, my Dutch is better, flowing more freely. I really feel it.

8. A good friend of mine, Alex, announced that she is moving away. I’m very sad about it. It won’t be for a few months, but I don’t liking thinking about it. I’ve said it before, but the worst thing about living here is how transient a place this is. People move in and they move out. And Alex was supposed to be a ‘lifer’ like me. I’ll forgive her because it means I/we can go to London more often because I’ll need to visit her. And she’ll eventually be back because her partner is Dutch.

9. I got glasses. My dear friend, Patty, spotted me moving a book away from my eyes some time last year and every since, I have been thinking about whether or not I really need them - just reading glasses. So when I was buying glasses for our costume for the Dreamball at the dream conference (Fred and I went as twins), I was trying on reading glasses so I could ‘kick out the lenses’ (Fred’s term, which I love), suddenly, everything in front of my face was in focus and I said, “Oh no…” Anyway, I bought an extra pair just to try and then I bought more pairs (they’re cheap!), which are lying around the house at strategic spots. And then I went and got my eyes checked and got real glasses, which really like. I sort of wanted a ‘look’. I like wearing them because they help with everything from reading to knitting. And I really like reading now. Interesting…

Fred says they have a sort of Mad Men vibe, which I like. It’s such a commitment to choose a pair of glasses. You’re adding to your face, which is sort of strange because that sort of thing usually happens by itself - wrinkles, zits, hair.

10. I bought a ukulele. It’s part of my ongoing goal to only do things I love to do. Like, for instance, I quit my choir. I love singing in a choir, but I didn’t love the rehearsals or the people, which is a huge part of being in a choir. I enjoyed it sort of…enough…in a way…mostly, but it wasn’t something that I looked forward to every two weeks. In fact, it was something that stressed me out, so I quit at the end of the season. I would love a new choir, one that is somewhat challenging, but that I won’t have spend hours studying for each week. Anyway, the ukulele kept coming up: once at a knit night and then on a podcast and then somewhere else. And I was intrigued and I bought one. They’re relatively inexpensive. I wanted something I could play while I’m singing, so my harmonica playing fantasy didn’t fit in. And I wanted something portable and relatively easy to master that was fun. I’ve looked at several online courses. I’ve played around with it, but I have some questions about my technique. What I would love is a ukulele teacher in Amsterdam. Anyone know one?

And that’s my update. I really hope to blog more often. That’s for sticking around. Stay tuned.