Still Here

I suppose now that it's past New Year's I ought to try to act on my annual resolution to blog more often (that, and eat less chocolate).  Anyway, we had lots of fun over the holidays--especially Mom and Dad's visit--which really made it a Christmas to remember.  The holidays officially come to an end tomorrow when school starts again and everybody goes back to work after ski holidays or whatever.

Our sport of choice after Christmas has been . . . eating.  For instance, in the last 4 days:  Thursday, Epiphany (therefore a holiday here in Baden-Württemburg), we were invited by friends Marc and Li to their house for brunch, and we somehow ended up staying there until after dinner (which was Eierspätzle:  on the package the manufacturer writes proudly "10 eggs for every 500 g of flour!").  Friday evening we went out for pizza with Joey and Margot and family.  Showing restraint, I ordered a small pizza, but by mistake I got a size large.  Well, well . . . . Yesterday friends Anna and Triesel came over with cheese fondue that they just had to get rid of, and for this evening, neighbors Silke and Rüdiger invited us over to eat raclette.  I will use Marc's expression:  He claims that when he and Li recently tried to fit into their dress-up clothes for a concert, "We looked like Weißwurst."  Plus Thorsten made traditional Ostfriesland New Year's cookies, which are basically butter with a lot of sugar and a little flour thrown in, which is then fried on a special waffle iron until it is crispy, just in case anyone got a little peckish between mealtimes.

Our nice blanket of snow has also thawed in the last 4 days, exposing surprisingly green grass (with the exception of Rüdiger and Silke's lawn, which displays an intriguingly stripy pattern due to Rüdiger's uneven application of lawn fertilizer in November).  The now-visible garden draws me like iron shavings to a magnet.  Yesterday I stood in the mud looking at the wreck of the broccoli and parsely and the remains of the Brussels sprouts, not to mention the weeds (how the hell do they grow under the snow?).  My long-suffering spouse called to me out the window:  "Jill, it's really still too early." Still, I have ideas:  I think we could set up a small greenhouse (40 sq feet or so) against the south wall of our carport, which would considerably extend the garden season for me.  I stood out there in the 40 degree weather imagining glistening red tomatoes the size of softballs and a riot of cucumber vines climbing up the walls.

Thorsten has accepted my plans with good grace, and even pulled up an internet site for me on how to pour a concrete strip foundation.  "Could be a good spring project," he mused.  "Best of all, we won't be able to see the greenhouse from the living room."  With this somewhat qualified approval I feel ready to proceed with planning . . . I think I could borrow a cement mixer from the neighbors, and digging out an 8-inch deep trench really shouldn't be a problem.  I can't imagine that assembling a greenhouse could be worse than the putting together the desk we bought for Lilia's birthday. Anyone want to visit us this spring and help me out?

Other than that, well, I still haven't written my Christmas cards (a combination of slothfulness, absorption in several different knitting projects, and an intractable desire to watch Tatort reruns).  Hope to get them out by February . . . if you haven't yet received one from me, please accept my profound apologies.  (Aha, another opportunity to make a New Year's resolution).