The New Guy.

We finally did it.  After talking, ruminating, planning, and figuring out the details of getting a pet in a foreign country, we are proud to announce the addition of (insert name here).  He is a 3.5 year old stray that we adopted from the SPCA.  He's never had a home, let alone humans, so he is a little skittish.  He's not used to negotiating corners, doors, the sound of Larry brushing his teeth, so every new thing is a challenge for him.  We spent the first 24 hours carting his well fed furiness into rooms, because he was only happy if he was with us, and he wouldn't walk, just cower at our legs. We got him on friday night, and he's just now starting to explore and check out his new digs. Larry and I went today to get him some stuff, like a littler box, a few toys, and an elaborate scratching post that Larry deemed "perfect".  I was leaning towards the cheaper, no frills one, but his furry new son will only have the best.

Going to the shelter was a sobering experience.  It's an outdoor enclosure, and it's fairly well run.  But still.  All those poor animals that need a home!  We almost brought 2 cats home, but the adoption counselor said the cat we had chosen "didn't play well with others".  I hope this doesn't mean he runs with scissors as well.  We chose him because he was older, was getting close to his last days in the shelter, and seemed sweet and calm.  He's been super sweet so far, and seems to prefer Larry to me (it's a gonad thing, I was told).  He's happiest when he is on one of our laps, and he yells if he can't see us.  

What pushed us over the edge to get one was that I was talking to Sarah, another friend I recently met, and she said she'd watch him when we travel.  That was pretty much all I needed, and Larry was close behind.  Aside from the first hard days, he is a sweet, lovable guy, and I almost can't remember when he wasn't here.

Speaking of buddies, I've been having a blast with Euvah and Sarah...I see many good times, and loads of trouble ahead for us.  AND!!!  Drum-roll please!  I was invited to join a bookclub!  To say I am excited and happy is an understatement.  I miss my bookclub in Michigan soooo much. Thanks Sarah for the invite!  Yippie!!!

Hope you're all doing good!  miss you!

xoxo

Pam

p.s. any ideas for blog posts?  I'm in a bit of a rut....Oh, and name ideas too! (no Mom, I'm not naming him Milton.)

Euvah's Blog

Hey!  My new friend Euvah has a really good blog about her new experiences in Sing. Her pics are way more informative than mine, and it's fun to see her take on being a "Singapore rookie".  She's been fun to hang out with, and I love her stories....enjoy her blog, it's GREAT!

www.cajunsis.blogspot.com/

Never A Dull Moment

It never fails...whenever Larry is gone, something happens in the apartment. Today, all hell broke loose.  First, our Vonage phone is out, and I have no clue how to fix it, then the internet was out.  That I fixed, with a crazy little tool, called "paying the bill". The washing machine was spewing water and suds.  It's being replaced in a few weeks.  The air conditioner in Larry's "man" room, and the guest room were out, so I rang the maintenance men, and they came to have a look. As I was getting laundry and stuff out of their way (they had to go through the window in the laundry room), I slipped on some water.  I cleaned it up, not really thinking anything of it. But then I came back, and the puddle was back...so....I looked up.  I noticed a steady trickle coming from the kitchen ceiling.  I just laughed, shook my head, and pointed it out to the maitinence guy.  He called the other maintenance guy, who just so happens to be my favorite, because he is always so smiley and silly.  His name is Murgian, and if he can't fix something, he is always very sweet, and makes jokes.  Well, he had to poke around, and as always, it was a good thing he is on the wiry side.  Luckily, there was a hole in the ceiling, just big enough for his head. He seriously cracks me up. 

The Red Shoes-Pam's Version

Once upon a time, in a beautiful and faraway land, called Detroit, a little girl with long brown braids and freckles lived with her parents and a sister, with curly blonde hair and freckles.  The little girls lived a happy life, playing with dolls, a lively brown and white spotted dog, and lots and lots of books.  The little girls went to a parochial school, where plaid pleated skirts and brown shoes were the rule.  Every year the mom and dad would take the little girls for shoes, in their chariot, a really nice white buick.  Listening to beautiful music called ABBA, and Captain and Tennille.  

The girl with the long brown braids and freckles had a hard to fit foot, big, wide and square, not unlike Fred Flintstone.  The little blonde sister had a narrow, perfect foot, not unlike her maternal grandmother, The Queen Of The Golf Course. The little sister was able to shop at any store, and her shoe needs were easily and inexpensively taken care of.  The other sister had to shop at a store call Verfaillies, that carried shoes for her enormous foot. Each year, although her parents tried to keep a brave face, they secretly worried and fretted over the expensive shoe trip.  

One year, when the little girl with brown braids was seven, the girl and her mother went to visit the store.  Mr. Verfaille was a kind man, and his store was festively hung with colorful banners that said "Back To School Sale".  He quickly took care of the school shoe needs, and the little girl was pleased with her wide brown shoes that reminded her of Holly Hobbie.  This was a time long, long ago, called the seventies, when children had one or two pairs of shoes, and were quite happy with having enough.  Not too much, but enough.  

Then, the nice shoe man took the mother aside, and quietly whispered that he had gotten in a very special pair of shoes, and would the little girl like to see them? The mother nodded, but figured they were out of the yearly shoe budget, and really, the girl had enough. But she knew that the little girl with brown braids and freckles loved looking at pretty shoes, and secretly wished she had a perfect foot like her little curly blonde haired sister.  The nice man, with a sparkle in his eye, gave the little girl a tootise roll, gave her braids a little tug, and bustled off to the back room.  The little girl sat, happily swinging her feet, admiring her new shoes.  The man came back and told the little girl to close her eyes.  He slipped a shoe on her foot, and told her to open her eyes.  The little girl slowly opened her eyes, and both she and her mother gasped.  The most beautiful pair of red patent leather shoes they had ever seen were on the little girls foot. And they fit!  They were shiny, like a perfect red apple, had beautiful straps and buckles, and were made for parties. The little girl with the brown braids squealed and skipped around the store, so happy to be in normal little girl shoes.  The mother was delighted to see the little girl so pleased, and asked the man the price.  He told her, and the mother sadly looked at the little girl and told her they were out of the budget.

Crestfallen, the little girl started to take the shoes off.  But then the nice man reminded the mother that the store was having a sale, and with a special discount for little girls with freckles, the beautiful red party shoes could easily fit into the budget.  The mother and little girl could hardly believe their good fortune, and thanked the nice man that gave the little girl an extra tootsie roll for her little curly blonde haired sister.  The little girl loved the shoes with all her heart and wore them at every opportunity.  She was sad when her foot grew too large for the shoes, but she never forgot them, or that very special day. It instilled in her a deep love of red shoes that ran true and fierce.

Well, the little girl with the long brown braids and freckles grew up.  She learned how to find shoes that fit her enormous foot, and  delighted in finding a good shoe sale.  But still, she worried.  How would she ever find a prince that could love her, despite her enormous feet?  She busied her self through the years, caring for and playing with children, and learning how to cut and braid hair of other little girls with freckles.  

Then one day, she met a charming prince from a beautiful and faraway land called Texas. Prince Larry was dazzled and smitten with the girl, who now had short hair of varying colors.  He fell in love with her, enormous feet and all.   He took her to a beautiful and faraway land called Singapore.  They lived a happy life of laughter, pho noodle soup and travel.  One day, Prince Larry took the girl of now varying hair colors to yet another faraway land, called Amsterdam. The charming prince took her all over the land, exploring it's wonderful customs.  One day, they toured a wooden shoe factory.  The girl was delighted with all the pretty shoes, and wandered over to where they sold shoes called Clogs.  She was happy to see they had shoes to fit her enormous feet, and chose a nice black pair to wear when she styled, cut and braided hair.  As they were leaving the store, the girl happened to turn back, and notice a nice man, with a sparkle in his eye.  He smiled and nodded at the girl, and extended his hand to show the shoes he was standing by.

The girl nodded and smiled back, but then, as if time stood still, she looked down, and she swore she heard angels singing.  There, on the bottom shelf were the most beautiful pair of red patent leather clogs she had ever seen. One pair.  In her size.  The girl squealed and skipped and did the cabbage patch dance as Prince Larry rolled his eyes, and tried not to grumble to hurry up, so he could see the cheese factory.  The girl hastily threw the boring black clogs to the side, narrowly missing some innocent russian tourists, and skipped and squealed all the way to the cash register.  

The Prince and his Princess with varying hair color and freckles came back to Singapore, and she has been happily clomping around in her new shoes ever since, much to the delight of the neighbors in the flat below her.  Prince Larry was happy for the girl, and laughed as the girl wore them to bed the first night she got them. He stopped laughing when quite by accident one of the beautiful red clogs met his shin, in the middle of the night.  The princess promised to only wear them at appropriate times, and they lived happily ever after.  THE END.      

          

Debbie Was Right.

Sigh.  I admit it, occasionally she is correct.  Anyway, She finds most (ok, some) of her information on the scrap book message boards.  She is a font of useful, and sometimes obscure knowledge she gleans from the boards.  I do my best to make fun of her for this at every opportunity.  It's my job, and I am a strong worker.   Anyway, I'm not too proud to say when she is right, and I benefit from the info.  A few months ago, she asked me if she could give someone on the message boards my blog address, because the woman was moving to Singapore.  I said, sure, then forgot about it.  Well, a few weeks ago, I heard from the woman.  She emailed me, asking a few questions about moving to Sing.  We've been emailing ever since, and today, we met up at my Singapore version of target, Ikea.  She's from Louisiana, and since I have a deep and abiding love for all things southern (um, Larry, greens, funny accents), I knew right away we'd be buddies.  Plus, she told me she'd teach me to make okra, so that pretty much sealed the deal.  

Sooooo...thanks Deb, for being, the brilliant, supportive, friend.  And figuring out 20 gazillion miles away, how to help me find someone I could hang out with.  I don't know how you do it, but I think perhaps you should run for president.  Or maybe queenhood.   And Euvah? Thanks for moving here, and being so fun!  We're gonna have a blast!

More Amsterdam

So, since Larry was in Amsterdam for work, we were invited to a dinner with his associates.  I wasn't going to go (contrary to popular belief, I do not know everything, and my aviation knowledge is limited), but Lar convinced me there would be little "shop talk" and it would be fun. Boy am I glad I went.  Ok, you all know I love food.  I love to cook, I love to try new things, I read about food, research food, dream about food, and try often times in vain NOT to eat food.  I make food to show love, and I come from a long, distinguished  line of family cooks.  Restaurants are fine, but make me a home cooked meal, and I'm a happy girl.  So, when we went to this teeny tiny italian restaurant , tucked away in a historic canal house, I really wasn't expecting much.  It was a old "brown bar" which means the walls are yellowish and brown from smoke. These places are now considered historic, and the owners are not allowed to restore or change anything, only keep it up.  Larry, Kevin and I were the first ones there, and I was very skeptical, but figured "hey, it's gonna be fine..."    I very much underestimated.  I am going on record here as saying it was the best meal I have ever had.  Now, coming from me, knowing my family, you may think, "yeah Pam, your last meal was the best meal you ever had"  (Kinda like Mary).  But really it was.  The restaurant is owned by an Italian family that moved to Amsterdam about 20 years ago, and they run a tiny, six burner restaurant.  The mom is the hostess, and dessert maker (oh. my. gosh.) and Franco is the head waiter, stand up comic, and commander of all.  If you order something he thinks isn't just right, he will correct you.  The menu was in Dutch, so he translated from dutch to italian to english.  He was a delight, and took great pride in making sure were comfortable, well fed, and that the wine and lemoncello were flowing.  His brother, was the head chef, and only popped his head up from the kitchen once to bark orders to Franco, who made a face behind his back, and muttered something in italian.  Our hosts, Larry's work associates form the Amsterdam office were so excited to bring us to this place, they could barely contain themselves.  They tried to suggest things on the menu, but gave up and said, "Just eat, everything is good!"  So, Franco recommended a ravioli appetizer, where were were able to try several different kinds of their homemade (that morning!) ravioli.  We eat tried one of each, and it was so, so good.  And I know homemade ravioli....my parents make them at Christmas.  These were right up there.  The we had ceviche of beef, and zucchini(that's what I had, Aims!), which means the food is marinated and "cooked" in lemon and olive oil, with fresh herbs.  It was delicious, and fresh.  The company was wonderful too, and the conversations was rowdy, funny, and we whiled away the time, letting our food settle and meld with the delicious wine.  Kevin, my 32 year old chinese son, did well keeping up with the rowdy dutch, and we all enjoyed shocking him with funny stories.  After a long intermission, we ordered out main courses.  Since the kitchen is so small, and everything is made from scratch (pasta too) our table of 7 was only allowed to order 4 different dishes, we could all get a dish, just some of us had to order the same.  I had one of my very favorites, carbonarra, as did Larry.  It was so delish...even better than mine!  and I think I have my recipe perfected!  ha!  Dinner was so good, and the carbs were a flowing!  I didn't think I could squeeze in dessert, but our hosts said we absolutely had to try it.  They highly recommend the creme carmel, but I had to be different, and I had the lemoncello mouse, with fresh strawberries and basil. Sooooo stinkin good!!  Larry and I had agreed to order different things, then switch halfway through....but I reneged.  Mine was too good.  Larry was generous enough to let me try his creme carmel though, and it was really good.  I think  he's still pissed about it though (big grin). And did I mention that I love lemoncello?   It was a wonderful night, I'm so glad I went.

To back track a little...we went on a tour to the Delph pottery factory and Madurodam on Thursday with Kevin.  As we were leaving the tour, we started talking to an American family from Colorado, and the thirteen year old son asked Larry and I if Kevin was our son.  We pretty much doubled over at that one...and Kevin was a good sport, and called me "Ma" the rest of the trip.  Larry said "well, there ya go, you've always wanted to be a mother".  Indeed...I just didn't know he'd be 32 and Chinese.  

On Friday, we went outside of the city to a small town that hosts a weekly "cheese market".  It was a tour, so after that, they whizzed us to the windmills and a wooden shoe factory.  Even though it was slightly too quick for us, it was still fun, and we really loved the weather and being so close to the windmills.  The cheese wasn't bad either!  The wooden shoe factory was really interesting, and deserves it's own post.  Just a teaser: there are RED shoes involved.

We're back! And Gone Again Too!

Hi Everyone! We are back from a week in Amsterdam! It was sooooo much fun! Seriously a great city. Larry was there for work, and I went to roam around and check stuff out. Larry and I had to fly separate airlines, but we met up at the airport, and along with Kevin, Larry's associate (and apparently my son...more on that later!) and we made it to our hotel. It was early Sunday morning in Amsterdam, so we crashed for a few hours before checking stuff out. We went for a yummy brunch, right across the street from our hotel, to a little pancake house, secluded in a canal park. It was yummy, the day was perfect (70 degrees, breezy and sunny). We got out my handy dandy guide book (seriously, I wore that thing out), and decided the first thing we'd do was go to the Anne Frank House. Because we didn't yet know our way around much, and didn't know how easy it was to jump on the tram, we hoofed it. It was a nice walk, we took the canals, and just enjoyed seeing all the pretty boats. We did our best not to get run over by Amsterdam's "Silent Killer" the bicycle. I read in my book that there are 6 million bikes in amsterdam....I believe it...everyone rode...young, old, tourists. There are 720,000 residents of Amsterdam, 16 million in all of Holland, and it's half the size of Maine. (all this info is from a chatty tour guide) There are 172 different cultures...isn't that mind blowing? Dutch is the main language but most people speak English, if that's how you greet them. By the time we left, we had both picked up a few words, and could say hello, goodbye and thank you.Anyway...back to the Anne Frank House. There was a bit of a line, but we soon got in, and it was well worth the wait. I had read The Diary Of Anne Frank as a 8th grader. It was number one on my list of things to see in Amsterdam. Most of the furniture was removed when the family was found during the occupation, but the secret bookcase was still there, and you actually had to climb through it, and up really steep stairs to the annex. Making that journey was so surreal...I mean..I had read about it as a kid...and Anne's words made me feel like I was with her, but to actually do it....just amazing. I entered a room, looked around, and realized I was in her room, the one she shared with Franz Hubert, where she did most of her writing. The shock was on my face when Larry looked at me. He said " what's up, Babe?" and I just shook my head and started to tear up. I had no words for what I was feeling. When we left the house, and were taking a break in a nearby park, I could better describe to him what I was feeling. When I was in the house, it was just awe that I was seeing her space, saddness from reading all the accounts, seeing her writings, and her dad's markings of her and her sisters heights on a wall. Then when we left, and I had a minute to compose myself, bald faced shock that I was actually in Anne Frank's house... As a bratty 13 year old, I never in a million years thought I would ever get the chance to see where she lived. More tears, a baffled Larry (I explained now I was happy...keep up, Mister!) Happy tears, that this crazy ass life I have has brought me here. I think Lar got it...he tends to run deep on childhood stuff, and he gets when I'm blown away about realizing dreams or wishes. (me=lucky beeotch) Anyway, I think he could do without all the blubbering, but hey, that's part of the pamalicious package. After that, we wandered around and found our way to central station (one little ticket, and I coulda been on my way to Paris!!) We hopped the tram back to our part of town, and went and did the obligatory Hard Rock visit. After that long day,we staggered back to our room, exhausted and ready for a good rest. Larry had to work Monday morning, so we got everything ready for that, then crashed.Two of my all time favorite books are about independent women, that set out to travel alone. I admire their bravery, their moxie, their ablity to pack light(ha...four suitcases is not that bad...) And though I travel alone all the time, I never thought of myself in the same light. In Eat, Pray, Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert, she gives herself permission to do whatever she wants: "Liz, what do you want to do today"? then does it...no guilt, no worry about what needs to get done at home. I took this approach in Amsterdam. I did some research before, bought a guidebook, figured out the city map, and made friends with the concierge. I set out each morning, after a quite breakfast in the lounge, reading the paper from cover to cover, drinking tea, and mentally preparing myself to "let go". In the book Without Reservations, Alice Steinbach explores Europe in the same way...how ever and when ever she wants, doing things that make her happy and teaching herself to live in the moment. I made a list of all the things I wanted to see and do, them did them! Wow! what a revelation, eh? Spend a day at the Van Gogh museum? Sure! Walk along the canals and get a little lost? Sure! Have Pome Fritte for lunch? Sure! Find the store that only sells toothbrushes? Sure! Go to the floating flower market for tulip bulbs? Sure! Buy Annabella fuzzy wooden clog slippers? Sure! Buy fruit, cheese and bread and have a picnic in the park? Sure! Each day, I got a little better at living in the moment, and enjoying my time alone in Amsterdam. By Wednesday, when Larry and I decided to extend the trip and go on a few tours, I felt like I had done everything I had wanted in the city. I knew my way around, and (I'm embarrassed to say this...) I actually know how to read a map a whole lot better. I relaxed into the rhythm of vacation, and didn't freak out if I missed a tram, or had to walk back from where I came and start over on the map. I asked directions, took the time to chat with people, and soaked up Amsterdam. It was wonderful....it's a gorgeous city, the canals are surprisingly clean, and people are very kind. The weather was beautiful...a little warmer than usual, and everywhere you turned you could hear "Warm genoeg voor ya?". A few days, it was in the high 60's, and seriously, Larry and I were like little kids...sooooo happy! It warmed up to the 80's and 90's by the time we left, but the humidity was still way lower than Singapore.Here is few slideshows...more tomorrow. I have to hit the hay. Tomorrow is National Day in Singapore, (like our 4th of July) and I'm going to the parade with my friend Lydia. Larry is in China for the Olympics...check out the boys blog! Looks like they are having a blast!