You Send Me

I've got a golden ticket
I've got a golden twinkle in my eye

I never had a chance to shine
Never a happy song to sing
But suddenly half the world is mine
What an amazing thing

'Cause I've got a golden ticket
I've got a golden sun up in the sky

Okay, it's not a ticket exactly. It's a postcard.
And not a postcard exactly but a photo which really could be a postcard, mounted on a card.
And it's mine.
Jenn sent it.
I love it.

I love cards.

And mail.

How much do I love cards?
This year when the Christmas cards began rolling in from family and friends, including one from Allison and one from Leslie, I strung a line across my dining room wall, and hooked them on one by one with tiny clothespins. It gave me such a charge.
In spite of the fact that Christmas has been cleaned up for weeks now, I still have my cards prominently displayed. It will likely be March before I take them down.

That's how much.

I am going to take a stab at it here and guess that you are fond of cards too. Or at least of mail that isn't a bill, a reminder, or a sale flyer.

So, I've got an offer.

Here on my desk sits a stack of cards, of which I must admit I am quite proud. And I want to send one to you.

Yeah, you.

You might remember shades of this kind of offer before--last summer when I offered and sent postcards. That was seriously so much fun, I want to do it again.

You want to play? Here's the deal.

1. Comment on this post. It can be any length you choose--verbose or succinct.
2. Make it rhyme.
3. You heard me.
4. Rhyme.

Then leave me your email address (even if you think I have it) and I will contact you for your snail mail address. Then,

5. Wait.

You'll be singing soon.

'Cause I've got a golden ticket
I've got a golden chance to make my way
And with a golden ticket, it's a golden day*

*Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

Leslie Bricusse and Anthony Newly

Defining Awesome

Tradition and protocol for New Year's Eve in The Netherlands calls for complete mayhem. Chaos with a capital C you might say.

Me, I just call it crazy.

In a country which regulates just nearly everything which can be regulated it seems obvious come to Old Year's Night, that absolutely no rules apply. In the weeks preceding, fireworks are sold at the grocery stores, the plant nurseries and various other locations. Selections include the benign hand held sparklers and bottle rockets, but also include the kinds of things I do not know the names for and would hardly dare to guess the firepower behind. The fun (?) begins in the days prior to the 31st and it is not uncommon to have a firecracker thrown under your bike wheels as you cycle blithely down the lane. Nor is it odd to hear the rapid fire rhythm of hundreds of crackers set off together to reverberate off row house walls and narrow alleys.

Come the last day of the year proper, the fire play is random but constant throughout the day. It seems rather obvious to this onlooker that the stockpiles of explosives must be vast as players light the lines hours before the clock strikes midnight.

Midnight itself is a wonder, albeit a slightly-frightening-unbelievably-loud-wonder, to behold. After the initial shout: Gelukkig Nieuwjaar! and the standard three-kiss affectionate display for all in the room or at the party, the front doors of homes are thrown open wide and all pour into the streets where the name of the game seems to be DO IT FAST AND DO IT WILD. The fireworks are launched from the street, from the tops of trash cans, from the garden walls and they are launched with an energy which, unless witnessed, cannot be believed.

The result is a cacophonous nightmare which is simultaneously terrifying and totally stimulating.

All the while fire is exploding overhead and underfoot, neighbors call out Happy New Year and greet each other with the friendly three kisses--right cheek, left cheek, right cheek--for one and all. Everyone laughs and smiles. Everyone groans about the noise and the craziness. Everyone thrills over this very Dutch way to bring it in.

Lest you begin to think that it's all over in a moment I feel compelled to point out that noise and chaos is the lullaby still echoing in the streets well past 3:00 a.m.

Personally, I believe that makes it reasonable that the first resolution of the New Year is:
1. Stay in bed all day on the first.

I am happy to report that's a resolution fulfilled.

Happy New Year to all. Here's hoping 2008 is full of wonder.

(please pardon the *lack of* video skills here. I am a complete novice. you'll note the first part of the video is angled incorrectly. I fix it later, I am not a complete dork, just a slight one.)

Gelukkig Nieuwjaar!

2008 has arrived.

Too Loud for words Wednesday

Lingering

If you've ever wondered just what it might be like to celebrate Christmas with a houseful of comedians, then I am warmly extending the invitation to you to join us next season.

It's been a laugh factory around here as we planned, purchased and executed the frivolity around our house.

I will sum up.

Traditionally, we put our names into a hat, a box, or a bathrobe pocket--we're not all that particular--and exchange with one another the wish list we've created. With name and list in hand, we then plan and shop for the person we've selected. The spending limit is 25 euros. It's meant to be a way for all of us to single out one other of us and select something meaningful for that person.

I got Andrew this year.

Andrew got Emma.

Emma got me.

Don got Ian.

Ian got Don.

Don worked feverishly on his list before folding his paper and placing it into the upturned baseball cap. As he scribbled, he asked only one question: "what is the spending limit?"

His list read something like this:

The things I want for Christmas--

One 20 euro bill and one 5 euro bill, or

Two 10 euro bills and one 5 euro bill, or

Three 5 euro bills and one 10 euro bill, or

Two fifty cent coins, one 2 euro coin, two 1 euro coins, and two 10 euro bills

OR

One Folbot folding Kayak, 1500 euros plus shipping.

So we all did our shopping bit and when Christmas morning rolled around there was a grand buildup of excitement in the air in anticipation of presenting family gifts.

Andrew got police cars and firetrucks.

Emma got a discoball lamp. (Really. Andrew was certain this was THE gift for his sister.)

Ian got some cool new clothes and a game for his playstation.

I opened my gift to find this note:

Dear Mom,

First of all I want you to know, whatever I say from now on is in a Spanish accent.

What, oh, what could your gift be?

So little and small and tineee.

I know you will like it, it came from my heart, and the 25 euros dad gave me, but mostly from my heart.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Emma

Don's gift was double or perhaps triple wrapped with this note taped to the outside of the second layer:

Fulbot Folding Kayak

Size: Extra extra extra extra small (xxxs)

Color: Blue

Capacity: Your big toe

Dimensions: 5" x 2"

Warning!

Not for ACTUAL use!

Precautions: Keep away from water! If kayak comes into contact with any form of water, the kayak will disintegrate immediately.

We made merry with our giggles and then merry again with our guffaws. I am beginning to think that they who coined the phrase "Happy Christmas" had premonitions of just how it would roll at our house.

Here's hoping we keep Christmas in our hearts all year.

Merry Christmas, Darlings

Hope your holidays are joy-filled and joyful. Catch you in this space post chocolate-bingeing-present-discovering-eggnog-laden debauchery.

All my love.

Where I'll Be For Christmas

Home.

Unwrap these folks too:

Soccer Mom in Denial

Flower Child

Mariposa

Jenn

Wholly Burble

Jan

Greeting Cards Have NOT Been Sent

No Time For Words Wednesday

Christmas is Coming

soon.

Singular Celebrators:

Wholly Burble (faithful contributor)

Mariposa (first time--Welcome!)

Jenn (another first timer!)

Flower Child (celebrator deluxe)

SMID (who needs sympathy)

Jan (yet another first time player! Wow!)

Cause for Celebration

Today is the day! And a big day it is around here too. Not only is it the day that Sinterklaas comes by with a big sack of presents; it is also the day Allison and I celebrate our first 100 photos at our joint photo site. She writes about the experience(s) of our first 100 days with oh-so-much-more eloquence than I and truly you should leap over there and read all she has to say. But I wanted to give it a nod, a shout-out, a plug. Because keeping that site, and working with that woman is a total rush.

Come. Take a look.

My wordless wednesday post is below.

On New Year's Eve

From an email home dated 2 January 2006
A newbie to The Netherlands attempts to discuss the chaos of a New Year celebration!

31 December was a bit quiet around our house. Don was on a trip to the U.S. to visit his family. Ian was spending the day and night at a friend’s house in the neighboring town of Zouterwoude. So it was just Emma, Andrew and I left to our own to celebrate the coming of 2006. Andrew was in bed by his typical 7:00 p.m. and that left Em and I to hang out together.

The two of us had a lovely, quiet evening. We ate dinner, and watched a movie or two together. We both fell asleep on the couch at some point during the second film. When I woke around 11:00 p.m. I sort of puttered around awhile and actually toyed with the idea of just taking Emma upstairs to her bed, and climbing into mine and calling the whole celebration complete…

But I delayed, because Don had mentioned that there would be fireworks at midnight and I thought Emma would like to try and see them. At this point I wondered if we would be able to get a good view of a fireworks show. The night was somewhat cloudy and our house is not right in the city center, so I wasn’t sure we would have a great view. But we would make an effort to watch the fireworks and after that we could climb in our beds and be snoozing by 12:30.

No problem.

11:55 p.m. I stir Emma from her slumber and we switch on the TV to watch a countdown being broadcast. She very sleepily says, “Do you think we’ll be able to see the fireworks?” and I say “I hope so”. Then we join the television party goers and count down “Tien-negen-acht-zeven-ses-vijf-vier-drie-twee…” At our count of “een”, we hear the whine of a bottle rocket zipping skyward to explode above the house. Oh, cool! Fireworks!

So we scurry to the front window to see if there will be more. In the 10 ½ seconds it took us to move from the living room to the kitchen to look out our front windows, it sounded as if war had broken out on our street.

There were rockets being lit from every direction. Firecrackers popping like machine gun fire. Sparklers, smoke bombs, whistlers, fountains… you name it, it was being lit, thrown, launched and fired!

I have never seen a show like this in my whole life. It was SO loud and SO chaotic out on our street. It was hard to determine if the view was better from the back yard or the front porch. So we alternated and watched the firework show from inside the house for several minutes. Then we decided we really had to get outside to experience what was happening, so we opened the front door.

Holy cow! What noise! We thought it extremely loud and somewhat disconcerting while the doors were shut. To be outside in the din was UNBELIEVABLE! What a rush. We joined neighbors on the sidewalk and watched the antics of those who were providing the fire show. If I could I wouldn’t even know how to assign a number to the fireworks being launched. A gazillion? It was amazing.

And it wasn’t happening on our street alone, but this frenzy was repeated street after street, block after block throughout the entire city. The sky was alive with color.

Besides the boom, boom, boom of fireworks popping, the music of the night included friends and neighbors greeting each other with kisses and calling out “Gefeliciteerd!” (Congratulations!) I kissed more neighbors that night, than I even knew I had.

Mostly I just stood and watched the fireworks, shook my head and repeated over and over “I have never seen anything like this before”

Ultimately, the noise woke Andrew (like anyone could sleep through that?) and we brought him downstairs to join us. I thought he might be frightened, but instead he just kept calling out “lights” as the fireworks exploded overhead.

We watched the show for an hour, then at 1:00 a.m. I told my kids we had better call it a night. I tucked them both in and wondered if anyone would actually be able to get to sleep. The festivities were still in full swing and didn’t appear to be closing up any time soon. I kissed the kids and wished them luck for slumber. It actually didn’t take them too long to give in and fall asleep. At around 2:00 a.m it began to quiet. There was still quite a bit of action in the sky, but not near as much as before. I am not sure what time the last firecracker exploded, because by that time, I too had given in to sleep.

Maybe we’ll see fireworks?

Indeed.