lol

Before we go any further, here are a few things that I think are funny:








Now back to your regularly scheduled programming.



JEM

Eat Like a Native: The Wurst That Could Happen

I know the stereotype of Germans is that they walk around in lederhosen with a sausage in one hand and a beer in the other. But I'm sick and tired of Americans and their stereotyping, so here's the truth: Germans don't wear lederhosen that often.

The word in German for any kind of meat stuffed into a casing is "Wurst". You've got bratwurst, bockwurst, blutwurst, currywurst, wurstchen. Bolognas and salamis fit into this sweeping category, as do a number of other cased meats.


And Germans love it. It's not uncommon to see a toddler in a stroller munching on a cold wienie wrapped in a paper towel or to see a construction worker at the grocery store at lunchtime purchasing nothing for his midday meal but a package of cold wienies and a drink. It's naturally a staple at cookouts and at outdoor community events, but I didn't fully appreciate the role wurst played in everyday German life until Jethro was born.

For two whole weeks after his birth, the good women from my church brought me meals, and although I've eaten with Germans a lot here, I think this was my first real insight into their daily eating habits. Every meal was delicious and wonderful, but if my memory serves me, I think wurst played a starring role in about two-thirds of the meals.

We've incorporated into our own eating habits here. Behold, one of our favorite meals:


Yeah, I know. It looks pretty stark. But this is standard German fare, canned wienies and warm crusty rolls. And I assure, despite my own hesitations, this is good eatin'.


Particularly when paired with some really fine German mustard. Bautz'ner is a must especially with bratwurst. We prefer the scharf, or spicy kind. I love mustard that makes fire come out of my nose.


Here's a tasty little trick we've learned. Mix a little of the scharf Bautz'ner with a big dollop of King Ludwig sweet mustard. Oooooh, mama.

I love you, wurst.



JEM

Frohe Ostern!

Despite its largely non-religious population, Germans are big fans of Easter. Probably because it marks the beginning of spring, and Germans love being outside gardening, hiking, grilling, rollerblading, biking, or just strolling. Everything shuts down the Friday before Easter and the Monday after, and in the week or two preceding Easter, everyone wishes one another a happy "Osterfest". I don't recall cashiers regularly wishing me a happy Easter in the States, but I've gotten it from every cashier I've encountered here in the last week.

One of my favorite German Easter traditions is this:


About a month before Easter, Germans hang little Easter eggs all over their trees and shrubbery. It always makes me excited when I see them start to pop up. It's one of Germany's surefire first signs of spring.

And goodness knows we're all ready for it.





JEM

Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch ...

Jasmine E. Michaelson: Soooo ... uhmmm ... hi.
American Dresdner: Well, well, well. If it isn't JEM.
JEM: Yeah, about that ...
AD: Do you have any idea how much you worried me? I had all the neighbors out looking for you! I called the police ...
JEM: You called the police? What did you tell them?
AD: Just that I hadn't heard from you in a long time and it wasn't like you and could they look into it.
JEM: Wow. I had no idea I'd upset you so much.
AD: I just knew you were dead in a ditch somewhere. Anyway, they wanted to know what our relationship was, and when I told them they told me not to abuse emergency services and hung up on me.
JEM: Well, listen, I'm really sorry.
AD: [silent, refuses to make eye contact]
JEM: C'mon! What do you want me to say?
AD: An explanation would be nice.
JEM: I guess I don't really have one. It's actually been a pretty boring couple of weeks. In fact, that's the main reason I haven't stopped by. I haven't had anything interesting to report. For the most part, it's been gray and rainy, and the Chairman of the Board has been a real taskmaster lately.
AD: Who?
JEM: AD: Oh, right, him. He's really starting to hammer a wedge between us.
JEM: Hey now, he's just a baby. He needs lots of care and love.
AD: AND I DON'T?!
JEM: Anyway, we haven't really gotten out lately because he's been sort of moody. But we've had lots of fun here at home! Here, let me show you. [removes photos from wallet]
AD: Oh, jeez. Here we go.
JEM: He rolled over for the first time:


And I finally caught him on video laughing (apparently the way I was fluffing the pillows was pretty funny):


And, when he's not freaking out in public, he's been darn cute.

Thanks for the outfit, Grandma M.

But I can see your eyes are glazing over.
AD: No, no! Please keep going!
JEM: Are you being sarcastic? Because I will keep going, if you want.
AD: I was being sarcastic.
JEM: Oh.
AD: There must've been something interesting that happened. Something with a little drama and intrigue. Something that will hold our two remaining readers.
JEM: Well, today I polished off my last jar of Jif Crunchy Peanut Butter, but fortunately I recently discovered a German peanut butter that's relatively edible. That was pretty exciting.
AD: You know what? Why don't you just disappear again for a little while.
JEM: You don't mean that.
AD: Oh, I do. I really do.

My Little Rhodes Scholar

I always knew we'd have brilliant children.





JEM

A Morning in the Garden

Germany has miserable winters. They're not that cold compared to the frigid winters I spent growing up in Idaho buried under 10 feet of snow for four months solid. But even at its coldest in Idaho, nay, especially at its coldest, the sun comes out and the skies are bright, bright blue. Here, however, thanks to our higher latitude, the days are much shorter (10 a.m. to about 4 p.m.), and thanks to our wetter climate, the skies are dismal and gray for weeks at a time. So when I woke up last Thursday and could see patches of blue out my bedroom window, I nearly wept. And then I took Jethro to the park.

Even devoid of leaves, Dresden's Großer Garten, or Great Garden, was glorious. Carpeted in gold and purple crocuses and filled with birdsong, it reminded me how much I love it here.

I parked the Kinderwagen next to a pond and sat Jethro on my lap to watch the strolling people and the swimming ducks and swans.
And I was once again struck with the nagging feeling that wherever I go and whatever I do in my life, I doubt I'll ever find myself living in a more beautiful place.




JEM

Roadtrip

A couple of weeks ago we rented a car and drove to the American consulate in Berlin. Jake needed to apply for a passport renewal, but mostly we needed to do all the paper work that establishes Jethro as an actual person: passport, social security number, etc. We considered taking the train, which is what we would've done B.J. (Before Jethro). But the thought proved too terrifying. I couldn't get visions of Jethro having a nervous breakdown on a crowded train out of my head. And I wasn't terribly excited about the prospect of attempting a very public nursing session. We ultimately decided to rent a car — the first time we've driven ourselves anywhere in the last year and a half, with the exception of our Trabi Safari last May. It was great. Public transit here is wonderful, always reliable and on time, and I'm grateful that I don't have to learn how to navigate the crazy narrow streets here, but we still miss cars. Cars = freedom.

I would've gotten a shot of the consulate for you, but photographs outside it were verboten. And no electronic devices were allowed inside, not even USB drives. So you'll have to take my word for it, but we were in and out surprisingly quickly. We complain about bureaucracy in America, but nothing in America that I've experienced rivals the red tape we've had to slash through in Germany getting visas and tax numbers and everything else one needs to keep from being deported. Jumping through American hoops for a change was utterly refreshing. Surrounded by quirky tourism posters ("Visit OKLAHOMA!"), we filled out four or five forms in the small, quiet waiting room and were finished. It was a breeze.

In fact, the worst part about the trip was Jethro's meltdown in the McDonald's parking lot immediately afterward. Well, that, or the cramped and tangled post-diaper explosion backseat costume change right before we went into the consulate. I think it's a tie.

I'm really glad we didn't take the train.



JEM