Three Goats A-Leaping, FTW

Making myself business cards. Frustrating until inspiration hits. Goats! My family's crest is three goats, "dancing," "leaping," what have you. Idea? Draw the goats dancing around à la Matisse's La Danse I.

However, simplification is key. I sometimes [all the time] get too caught up in my ideas and then they snowball into one huge complicated endeavor.

The dancing goats are enough. I don't need to go and model them after Matisse, it's just too much. Cute idea though it is...it doesn't really connect to me as much as the goats on their own do. Yeah yeah, when I was 14 I was told I painted like Matisse, but that's the extent to any connection there. And I don't paint at all like him anymore, and it was only that one bloody painting that looked like it might be in his style. I mean, he's not even my favorite artist. And so, obviously, my conclusion (and my teacher's conclusion) is that Matissifying the goats is superfluous.


I'm so glad my class liked the goats card best, seeing as how it's my favorite, I spent the most time on it, and it has the best story (er, it's the only one with a story).

Now, I need to find my fracking pencils so I can re-draw my goats.

Mama T

I opened her boxes today. They've been sitting in the corner of the study since October 2008, untouched, taped shut, contents unknown to the extent that I did not know what to expect among the things I knew would be in there. It would have been more fitting to do it on her birthday, or mother's day, or some special day... But the sun is shining, and I was cleaning the kitchen, and rearranging the study to turn it into a semi-studio, and the boxes were just...sitting there, waiting oh so patiently. So I got my scissors and cut the tape. I actually did it. And instead of crying, like I expected, I find myself smiling. The boxes smell like her. I stuck my head inside them and just breathed in, taking her in, remembering her, loving her.

I only unpacked a few things. I don't know what to do with all the crocheted sweaters and tablecloths yet. Books and games no longer reside within the cardboard confinements, however. Things I took out: the Great Masters' Drawings book I bought Max for his birthday, Monopoly, Clue (oh, how many times we played!), Scrabble, Set, Uno, and the "Woman's Home Companion Cookbook." And Brutus. I brought him downstairs, to be put with her hutch and other things, as he always was.

summertime II

So the rest of the summer is formulating itself. Numerous (countless) trips are in the works or at least to be planned shortly. Oregon, Chicago, DC, Amsterdam, France, maybe even Germany (not in that order per se). Not to mention my Dutch "cousin" visiting in July (the daughter of my "uncle," who is really just one of my father's best friends from childhood that masquerade under the guise of "uncle such-and-so" i.e. Roland, Robert, Adrian, Satinder, etc.). V excited to see her, we always get along well, and it's an opportunity to play tour guide while I show her and her beau the city. Too bad Mandana isn't around, I think it would be ridiculous if we all got together and chatted Dads (though really, I have only to go to Holland to accomplish that). Anywho, this summer is quickly becoming full, which is just lovely.

updated

Been very busy lately. Too busy. When things happen, it seems as if I have to do everything at once. Projects, classes, homework, friends, family, installations, cleaning, unpacking, etc! It's still going to be busy. Don't get me wrong, I thrive on busy, having things to do, but I hardly have time to do the other things I need to do, like a doctor's appt for my mac and myself. I had one for today, in about an hour, but the bloody carpet people called today instead of yesterday and so are coming 20 mins after my appt is supposed to start, so I just hope my computer won't die. I also have barely any time to go out anymore. It feels like college again, when my weekends more often than not went towards working than playing.

Gerstensuppe

Switzerland was wonderful. All white and clean. We stayed in a small town called Flims, but it didn't really feel like Switzerland there. It was just overrun by all the wintersports tourists, (mostly Dutch snowboarders there for some competition incidentally, which irked my Dutch relatives a smidge, how can they talk in private now?) and just didn't feel authentic. I mean, it felt like Switzerland, just not how I experienced it the last time when I was in Mürren and Wengen. Maybe it was because most of the buildings were built in the last century. Falera, on the other hand, was the exact taste of Switzerland I needed. Tiny little town, crooked cobbled streets, mountains peeking through the houses, and old wooden buildings dating back well over a century. 

I must have had gerstensuppe at least three times. My favorite was after the circular hike that had several forks and shortcuts through the forest (oh how I wanted to amble through, but I was not alone, and those I was with prefer not to go off the beaten path). I forget the name of the restaurant, but it translated to something along the lines of the Ostrich Nest. In any case. This was the most delicious soup I've ever tasted. Delicate herbs, barley, tiny legumes, ham, and the finishing touch: freshly shaved horseradish. I bought a Graubünden cookbook that incidentally has this very recipe (not that I bought it just for that of course). Ugh. All the food was so good. I ate so much pig it's ridiculous (I'm so bad). Every morning I'd wake up nice and early, and get a ridiculous amount of food to eat: scrambled eggs, hard-boiled eggs, nutty bread, salami, prosciutto, emmentaler, gruyere, brie, tea, and two kinds of juice. Now that's a breakfast. Spaetzle, gerstensuppe, fondue, pizokels, goulash, and so much else for lunch and dinner I can't even remember it all, but everything was delectable. The Swiss know my palate. 

Hours were spent winter-hiking, going up mountains, going down mountains, at one point crawling up a mountain, and every evening with my Dutch relatives (Uncle Rob & Aunt Beatrice, Uncle Cees & Aunt Josine, their friends, and my own mother and father). It was lovely to see them all, I hadn't seen Aunt Beatrice since Eileen got married five years ago, and I'd forgotten how much more she's like my father than their older sister (i.e. fantastic sense of humour). The only unfortunate thing about the trip was that I did not have my camera. Would have if I could have, but it was being held captive in DC. 

It ended with an overnight in Zurich, where I'd never been, but my parents have been traveling to for years. I adored Zurich. I would love to go back there when it's not so blistery out, but I thoroughly enjoyed my hours-long meander through the city. Topped it off with fondue and fingerlings. 

Family

Holy shnikys. I feel like I've struck gold.

There's a whole bloody family branch of mine on facebook, and it just warms my heart. Birdie's Bobby, his wife Cynthia, their daughters Eve and Shelley, and their children Jonathan, Moss, and Sarah are all on it. And a member of the Black family is on it, too! I am more hesitant to add him, however, as I only met him the one time, he may not remember me, but really he should, I mean it was quite out of the ordinary and I'm sure my aunt's kept in touch with him. As nice as that is it is also frightening, as who knows what she's been saying about myself or my mother for that matter to the Black family.


I love family. When your immediate is so small, you really learn to appreciate it when you come across the other members.

Nothing brings tears to my eyes and warmth to my heart like this photo:



The one with the infectious smile at the center is my beautiful grandmother.

Max Fitzig

Max passed away yesterday morning. We only found out because my mother called Melva to ask how he was.

It was sleep apnea. Exactly what my mother had been saying he has for at least 3 years now. His daughters refused treatment. They are the most evil people I have ever met in my entire life. I think they've taken the cake from my mother's sister, at least the root of her evil is psychological.


Max was the closest thing I had to a grandfather. I never met my real grandfather, Henry, and Papa Jack died when I was nearly 3. I only remember him from the photographs I see of him. Opa passed away when I was 10. I rarely saw him, owing to our being in the states in his being in Holland. Max came into the picture when I was 5. I knew him for 18 years, which, considering my short lifetime so far, is a long time. And he would have married my grandmother, he would have, but my grandmother wouldn't allow it because she recognized the evil in his daughters, that they would think of her as a money-grubbing concubine rather then the last love of his life. They loved each other so much. He loved her. He romanced her. He took her around the world and held her hand. He was one of the kindest, gentlest, most loving and mediating men I have ever had the good fortune to meet. I think it skips a generation. His daughters are none of those. Oh Max, sweet Max, I hope you are loving my grandmother, and dancing with her still.

Toby Wolf

Mama Toby passed away shortly before 11:26 PM on Saturday, September 27th. She loved. She is loved. And she will live on, in my chin and my hands, in my curious appetite, and in the knitting and crocheting that I have learned from her.

Her funeral is today at 3 PM. (I cannot help but find it ironic that it should happen on this date of all dates.)

It was expected. For the last month I have been preparing. I am grieving, and yet I feel release at her being at peace, and no longer in pain and suffering. She had a long, full life, lived for 93 years, filled with love and humor.

I will always love my Mama Toby, and she will never be gone, not while I'm still around.

Hell. Also known as Florida.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Mother mother fuck fuck. Mother fuck mother fuck mother mother fuck fuck.


There's just so much going wrong here. So much. Too much.

In a nutshell:
My aunt's killing my grandmother. Max thinks she's already dead. My mother's in the hospital.

Life and Death

I feel sick to my stomach. Feel like I'm shaking. I am truly dreading going to Florida, for what very well might be the last time.

A Million Ughs

Jericho only let's me hold him when he's napping. Any other time and he just jumps from my hand. Why must it always be unrequited? Why?
It hasn't even been one full week. I should give it more time. But it's heartbreaking. I know it'll take a while, I just hope it won't be forever. I don't want to regret my decision.

I have to pack up my life. I have to write a final essay. I have to take one final exam. I have to socialize Jericho. Jericho needs to get his health records and a snip snip so he can travel and not be so crazy and have smelly pee. I have to either come back to Oregon or fly to Florida. I have to say goodbye. I don't want to say goodbye. I don't want to admit that she might not be here much longer. If there was ever one person that ever I wanted to be there for the milestones it would be her. I have her hands.

I'm not going to think about it. And so I'll focus on Jericho instead for now.

Do you know the way to Santa Fe?

The sky! The sky! Oh my word, the sky! The clouds parted for a brief spell today, brief spells, rather, and in the evening the sky was just absolutely breath-taking. Stars and stars, as far as the eye could see, and full constellations, not this bit of that and smidge of this, but full ones. All of Ophiuchus, all of Scorpius and Sagittarius, Cassiopeia, Cygnus, Eagle, Ursa Major, Pegasus, Andromeda, and so on, and on and on. Lightning in the distance, lightning to the left and to the right, and now the rains are back on top of us again and the sky is hidden once more beneath a thick atmospheric blanket.

The sky is the cherry of this trip. It is wonderful to see Josine and Cees again, and I look forward to seeing John as well. I really love Josine and Cees, I just wish I spoke Dutch. But that's my guilt-complex talking, and that I feel guilty that they have to speak English around me. Of course learning Dutch is something I greatly want to do, and have wanted to do, and will want to do until it is done, but for now I shall converse with my Dutch family in English.

ps. Santa Fe's as cute as a button.

oh, my mother!

She means well, she truly, truly does, but tonight was just plain silly. Embarrassing, hysterical, inappropriate, but well-intentioned, my mother sequestered the waiter, charmed him away, then said, "I have a daughter" and attempted to get his name and number. Oh, mother! Don't you know you can't do that anymore? It was actually crazy coincidental, seeing as how he had done study abroad with a kid from Oberlin, but then once she did that we were both mortified and he got back to the kitchen as quick as he could. Oh, mother!

It's all very funny, really. A comical skit, starring my (sometimes) oh-so-stereotypical Jewish mother.

Fags

Today I told my parents I smoke. They took it a lot better than I ever imagined.

That's one weight lifted.

Tudors

Today is the first time in a long time that I actually feel awake.

The sun is shining, I no longer feel disgustingly lonely having the house to myself, and Mary-Liz is coming into town!



I find myself falling in love with history, just can't get enough of it. I've been reading up on the Tudors, the six wives et. all, and have been watching David Starkey's Monarchy, which is quite fascinating. Oh to be in Aengla Land...my parents are there now, hopefully seeing hollowed monasteries, castle-less hilltops, and once blood-stained pastures.

I foresee Anne Boleyn coming to an end shortly on The Tudors. It's been a way coming, if in the second episode she already gave birth to Elizabeth, we need only wait for her miscarriage to trumpet her approaching beheading. I like the looks of Jane Seymour in the preview. Flaxen and fair. But it is this man that for me steals the show:



Mmm. Good god man, you are delicious. And, I must say, you bear a remarkable resemblance to a certain someone.

Now, to enjoy the sunshine.

Brooklyn II

Dionne Warwick is the shit. The shiznit. The bee's knees.

I can hardly contain my excitement, anxiety, and anticipation for Wednesday. I feel warm again.

quick list to do:
yakitori totto
bad horror movie
drinks with missie (tonight)

Saw "Shutter" with Alex. Had tremendous fun, despite the incredible predictability, horrible acting, and contrived screenplay. I'm just a sucker for horror movies you can laugh at.

Plans to meet Missie in the slope for dinner, v. excited and happy to see her. Will discuss house. Linda comes wednesday. Crossing my fingers. Thursday we're meeting with the Blacks (or the Bodkins, or whatever name my blood may have). I am incredibly nervous and excited about meeting my family. I hope to gain more insight into my heritage, considering my little to no knowledge in the area.