Happy super-late birthday to my bear-robot husband. Last month turned 30 years old. Before I talk about our fabulous weekend in AUSTRIA to celebrate, allow me to take a moment for a toast, in haiku form:
Handsome scientist
Implants seeds of love and joy
In my heart: Success
Jake finished writing his dissertation at the end of September, having written and compiled most of it (unbelievably) in a month. His defense is scheduled for our 8th wedding anniversary in December, which we presume is a good omen for the defense — and a bad omen for our anniversary, which Jake will most likely spend (pre-defense) puking and (post-defense) in a coma.
He has worked so hard these last few years, and in particular the last year. It's a gross understatement on my part to say that I'm proud of him. To say that I'm in awe of him is probably more appropriate. As the person closest to him, you'd think I'd have some sort of behind-the-scenes insight into how he's capable of all the things he does, but I'm more amazed and bewildered by him with every passing year. I'm just delighted to ride on his coattails through all of it, and to have such a fantastic view while doing so. (Implication: He has a really nice can.)
But enough with the the talk of my hot scientist lover. I know that's not what you paid to see. (Or is it?) I'll assume/hope you'd rather see pictures of gorgeous Innsbruck. But first a shot of the tasty, traditional Austrian Sachertort provided by our hosts.
Jake's new age was represented by the candles on the cake in binary, which our hosts, longtime friends Ben and Missy, knew to beJake's love language. True friends, indeed.
My Ames is true.
Now let's talk about the Alps.
I grew up in Idaho and then I lived in Utah, so I'm pretty used to mountains. I'm not that easily impressed by them. That said, the Alps BLEW MY MIND.
The pictures we came home with don't do them justice, so allow me to wax poetical for a moment —
On either side the city of Innsbruck is flanked by sheer walls of rock that jut up out of nowhere. There are no foothills to speak of to provide any warning. They're suddenly just there, shooting up into the sky higher and steeper than you would ever think possible. Standing in the city almost feels like standing in a tunnel. Jake and I were shocked to see commercial airplanes taking off and landing from the city. I wouldn't doubt if the Innsbruck airport were one of the most dreaded for airline pilots the world over.
I, of course, knew that people skied the Alps, not people like me, but actual human people. But after seeing the ski lodges perched on tiny precipices apparently miles from the level ground where sane people stand and chair lifts that seemed to take almost completely vertical routes that disappeared into the clouds (not fog, mind you, I'm quite sure that at that height they must be considered clouds), I really cannot fathom this. No less remarkable are the medieval castles and fortresses dotting the mountains only slightly closer to Earth. Kudos to peasant labor.
Innsbruck itself is a beautiful city.
And it also has some beautiful residents.
Well, technically they live just outside Innsbruck, but whatever.
But unfortunately this beautiful place is plagued by sudden powerful gusts of wind ...
Missy and Ben took us up to see Achensee, Austria's largest lake, which is located high enough among the Alps that the car trip required several ear popping episodes on my part.
Apparently while Missy had our camera at the lake those violent winds picked up again ...
But, as it is with any visit we have with these guys, the best part was just hanging around and catching up. Jethro had a particularly good time and was heard to say as we pulled away, "I love Missy."
Watch your back, Ben.
And thus, dear Ameses, till the winds of life reunite us again ...
Merry Christmas from the Michamesons
... may we cherish this pseudo-J. Crew catalog photo of all of us with this nice yellow park bench.
I think it's safe to say most Americans equate the German Mercedes Benz brand with slick, fast, luxurious cars they'll probably never afford. So when Americans visit us here, they're always amused to see the iconic Mercedes Benz emblem on garbage trucks, ambulances, buses, and maintenance vehicles.
It's weird to think that we've been here long enough now that I don't even notice it anymore. In fact, for the rest of my life I'll probably look at cars like this:
and always be reminded, however subtly, of a big, dirty, dinged dump truck with a naked lady air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror.
EDITOR'S NOTE: The following post is dedicated in its entirety to the mysterious B.L., as far as I know, the last remaining person on Earth who is still checking this blog.
I want to tell you all about my exciting summer vacation, but I don't want to bury the lede. So here it is. Here's the lede.
Jake Michaelson has secured a post-doctoral position at University of California San Diego and will begin work there Feb. 14, 2011. The Michaelson family, including wife JEM and son Jethro, will leave Dresden at the end of January not to return for a long time unless they win the lottery or something.
Our feelings about all of this are mixed, but mostly really good. The post-doc position is awesome. Jake will be working with an impressive group that is researching the genetic roots of schizophrenia, bipolar disorder and autism. We're really excited to be closer to our families (a lot closer to Jake's family in Las Vegas) and back in our own language and culture, and we must admit to being a little giddy about living within spitting distance of this:
But the thought of leaving Dresden and our friends and this very formative chapter of our lives makes us feel very melancholy. But we'll save that for another date, because now it's time for ...
JEM'S SUMMER VACATION:
THE 3-D* EXPERIENCE!
This was a weird summer. Most of June was so cold and rainy that we didn't go out much, and then July was so oppressively hot that we didn't go out much. (CULTURAL SIDENOTE: Germany doesn't have air conditioning. And if they do, I must assume after this summer that they only turn it on in the event of the Earth getting sucked into the sun's gravitational pull. And even then only for, like, the last 3 minutes before everything gets vaporized.) And then Jethro and I went to the United States for 3 weeks to see my baby brother get hitched to this hot little number:
And then Marci and Alan. Marci and I have been best friends since Mrs. Carlson's sixth grade class. Imagine my disappointment when she decided to marry a man last winter that I had neither met nor approved. The bright spot in my mourning was a belated honeymoon through Europe that brought the newlyweds to us in Dresden. Turns out Alan is awesome and the most perfect match for Marci that I could ever conjure up. Not that Marci apparently cares, but for the record, I do approve. (Noteworthy story: While Marci and Alan were here it was blisteringly hot, and I blacked out on the tram. Marci got to drag me and Alan got to drag Jethro's stroller off the tram at the appropriate stop. See how much fun it is visiting us?)
This visit was the first time Marci's and my paths had crossed in something like 5 years, but being with her felt like we'd never been apart. It was like being 15 all over again, but better.
In July Dresden held its annual Museumsnacht. For one night, nearly all the city's dozens of museums stay open till all hours, and for one 9 Euro ticket, you can get into each and every one of them. Jake and I went in shifts. I took the later shift, after Jethro was in bed, and got to enjoy strolling the Brühlsche Terrasse alone on a warm summer's night — something that hadn't happened in a while, and that likely won't happen again for some time. It was magic.
And then came the journey back to America. Since Jake was tied up with dissertation writing, a conference at Cambridge University and his interview at USCD at the exact time we'd be making this trip, Jethro and I had to leave him behind, which was miserable.
away we go (photo taken by Jake from the observation deck)
Jethro and I went through security at the Dresden airport and turned around to wave goodbye to Jake around the metal detectors, and that was when Jethro realized that Dad wasn't coming with us. He didn't scream, he just began to sob hopelessly. He required a hug, a teddy bear and a muffin before he could pull himself back together. The journey itself was among the more arduous 24-hour periods of my entire life. Jethro came down with a cold the night before we left and, over the course of the 10-hour flight from Frankfurt to Dallas, got progressively sicker. My throat started burning early on in the flight and by the time my dad picked us up at the Salt Lake City airport, we were nose-dripping, head-pounding zombies. At my parents' house in Idaho Falls we slept for two days, and my parents pumped me full of Umcka (in Germany it's Umckaloabo), an herbal cold remedy they'd recently been converted to. I bear testimony to you all that it worked. I think it was a major reason that I was able to stand upright three days later and accompany my soon-to-be sister-in-law to the Idaho Falls LDS Temple, where she received her endowment in preparation for her temple marriage a week later.
For the record I took a lot of photos and videos my first week and a half there. There was documentation of a roadtrip Jethro and I took with my dad to Victor, Idaho, in the gorgeous Teton Basin and the spectacular lightning storm that accompanied us home, of Jethro's first taste of black licorice (he liked it) and his first real encounter with a drinking fountain (Germany has no drinking fountains and I'm not exaggerating). I captured Jethro running into my mom's arms when she came home from work one day, and of course I immortalized the beautiful wedding day. But at the end of the wedding day, as the happy couple was leaving the reception to escape in their decorated honeymoon car (also documented in detail), my memory card filled up and subsequentlySELF-DESTRUCTED.
So you'll just have to believe me when I share the following tidbits:
—In Victor we watched a concert in the park of a cool indie-hipster-bluegrass band called Frontier Ruckus that included a musical saw. Jethro danced on the grass among the Connecticut trust fund yuppies sipping wine on picnic blankets who have taken over the little mountain town I love as storm clouds gathered overhead. We ate dinner from a port-a-kitchen claiming to serve authentic Austrian cuisine with the catchy slogan "Alles hat ein Ende, aber ein Wurst hat zwei!"
— Jethro fell absolutely in love with my mother. When we got home from the temple Jethro ran from his babysitter, my lovely cousin Katie, straight past me and right into my mom's arms squealing "Gamma! Gamma! Gamma!"
—The similarities between Jaidyn, my new sister-in-law, and myself are not limited to the hair. We are both the oldest of three children, we both married at 19 (OK, she was actually two weeks shy of her 19th birthday, but close enough), we both like to sing and play guitar, and (here's the clincher) we both carry almost identical leather wallets our fathers made when they were kids. Oh yeah, Jethro adores her, too. Although this trip was the first time I ever met her, I didn't feel like there needed to be much "getting to know each other". We just had this automatic understanding and affection. I can't imagine a better situation, actually.
In lieu of wedding photos, enjoy these awesome engagement photos of my little bro and his little lady taken by their friend Tori:
I got a new card and took some pictures the next week, but not nearly enough to make up for the week before.
the pals
the grillmeister
quilt tying
the grillmeister's fruits
where I got my obligatory Reese's Peanut Butter Cup milkshake
Jethro and I went to the Idaho Falls zoo with a bunch of my Idaho cousins and their kids.
Two prominent figures in my stay of whom I left with nary a photograph were my other brother Ford and my cousin Brandon, with whom I enjoyed many great conversations and laughs and the outstanding movie "Inception". Ford's review: "I thought it was a really great movie. Really well done. I think they should make more movies like this. But I didn't like it." Somehow, if you know Ford, this makes sense.
photo stolen from Facebook without any permission from anybody
Ford recently masterminded and organized this:
And has become a local hero over his battle with the Man when the rematch was blocked by police (although he claims it's not a big deal).
Brandon is an extraordinary culinary artist (and, incidentally, also a martial artist) who put on a waffle bar for the wedding luncheon in my parents' backyard for free that was so good I'm still fantasizing about it ... homemade blueberry syrup ... mmmmmm ... And he's single. Interested women may send their resumés to me, and I will review them and forward the candidates I approve to Brandon.
photo stolen from Facebook without any permission from anybody
Then we flew to Las Vegas to spend a couple of days with Jake's family before we had to head back to Deutschland.
We found this delightful sight waiting for us at baggage claim:
Jake's kid sis Missy and dad and a big pink sign created by my nieces. And it actually was my birthday. I'm now the big 27. Next year I will have outlived Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison and Kurt Cobain. Old enough to be a legend, apparently. Mom M. made me not one but TWO cakes to commemorate the occasion.
We woke up the next day and immediately hurled ourselves into Mom and Dad's swimming pool with a whole herd of fun cousins.
Our time in Las Vegas was way too short, but we had a wonderful time kicking around the house with Mom watching "Cranford", a BBC miniseries about an 1840s British village populated almost exclusively by elderly women. (Trust me, it's way better than it sounds — although Jake remains dubious.) We lounged in the rocket fire desert heat and laughed and played and dined with the incomparable Michaelsons, who celebrated the announcement of our impending move to San Diego like we'd just told them they all had new cars under their seats. Not to rub anybody's nose in it or anything, but I married into the most fun, loving, happy, kind family in the world. So, sorry. They're taken.
My last night there, Sin City gave me this:
Aw, Las Vegas. I love you, too.
Another harrowing 24 hours (including 2 hours on the tarmac in Dallas, and a subsequent missed connecting flight and me actually bawling in front of some poor German girl manning the American Airlines desk in Frankfurt while Jethro squirted himself with apple juice) and we were back home, in the arms of our Jake and our beautiful Dresden. How we missed them.
So, there you go. What I've been up to in my absence. Sorry for ditching you. Let's not fight anymore, OK?
JEM
*dramatic but dragging and ultimately a little disappointing (sorry, B.L.)
I'm from Idaho, but I live in Dresden, Germany. In a former life I was a journalist. I'm married to a mad scientist from Las Vegas named Jake, who is working on his Ph.D. here in computational biology. We have a baby boy named Jethro. We are Mormons fascinated by various things. This blog is about our lives, with particular emphasis on life in Germany through the eyes of an American. Enjoy your stay.
