Dear Sky,

Dear Sky,

How do I adequately address something that I cannot touch although the yearning to do so is part of my soul? Something that fills my mind with the possibility of understanding and appreciating eternity, yet at the same time may-be, in essence…nothing? Whittled down to molecules and atoms a scientist could say you are mostly empty space. I am so grateful I do not possess the soul of a scientist.

For me you are full to bursting with life. Your currents and eddies bear up the slight, frail bodies of my avian friends from the proud and deadly eagle to the playful hummingbird. Bees and butterflies are your friends!

You carry the gift of life-giving water over the whole earth in miraculous and beautiful ways. Having spent my youth in the dry heat of a true desert, I truly appreciate this bountiful gift. How imaginative of you to bring me water in such magnificent style! I anticipate your summer thunderstorms that make me shiver in pleasurable fear as I count the seconds between the dramatic, silent crack of lighting and the following deep, resonant thunder and hard, slanting deluge of rain. It smacks firmly against my face and windows demanding my attention. I give it willingly, and say ‘Thank you’. I wait, in reverence, for the hushed, cold stillness of the first magical snowfall of the season which is enchanted with promises of creative delight: building snowmen, sledding, ice-skating, or just watching the fine crystals fall, drift, and cover the sleeping earth. I long for the fog – such a nasty sounding word for that diaphanous mystery; that shape-shifting entity – it beckons me to come, explore, seek, uncover, and yes…even hide.

There is a reason you are called 'The Vault of Heaven', for within your treasury lie priceless gems. There is the sun; that brilliant golden orb that brings light and life to the entire earth, as well as marking each day of my relatively insignificant life. I turn my face to it often, expecting, and receiving a personal kiss. I’ve collected a host of them on my nose over my lifetime. Next is the moon; that waxing and waning opalescent sphere that dictates the planting and harvest, the tides and times. Friendly and mysterious at the same time as it peeps slowly over the mountains in its varied phases. I love each one. Then, there are the stars; those precious multicolored gems scattered haphazardly across your black velvet vastness. I’m very aware of their significance as stalwart points of direction to the lost and wayward; but I have to admit I carelessly play connect-the-dots with them. And the clouds – oh, those clouds! – shaped by your very breath into mythical creatures and towering castles. They entertain the ever-present child in me as I visualize possible adventures amid your fanciful creations. Hours have I spent in that playground!

From you I have taken my first breath, and to you I will give my last. You are also a witness to every breath I take in between. Did you see me when I danced joyously beneath you in my nightgown on that Indian summer night? It was just you and me and the music inside me. Or was that your music? Do you remember? I do. I felt part of you that night, like I could have been taken up and become one of your precious jewels; loved and cherished. I cried a bit when finally, wearily; I carried myself into the house and to bed, only to be released back to you as I fell into dreams.

I know you are not just mine alone. You belong to everyone because you have always 'been'. You were at the very beginning: "In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth." Your creation was the first act of the separation of man from God. Was it a peaceful parting, or was there an audible, wrenching cry as from a child being torn from its mother? I can imagine both, and have felt both, in my heart. In any case I'm absolutely sure that it was impressive. I'm glad that there is enough of you to give each of us a private piece. For aren't we all children of the Sky?

With much love,

Your favorite child.

Priority Shift

I love needlework. As long as I can remember I've been making things; whether by hand or machine, crocheting, embroidering, cross stitching, making clothes, dishcloths or quilts. It's what I DO. When I found a fun group of friends almost 8 years ago that truly understands this I thought I'd found heaven. I figured it would be what I did for the rest of my life. I'd be totally happy doing it.

This seems crazy to me. It really does. If you'd told me even 4 months ago that I'd be saying this I'd have vehemently denied it. I don't have time to sew today. What? Not be in my sewing room every single day? No. No...not possible. But it's true. I do go in there. I still have projects. I still love it. But it's not my priority any more. I just don't have time. I haven't been in my sewing room to sew for more than a week, and before that it was almost a month. I don't even work in a quilt store anymore. Most of the fabric I touch nowadays has to do with everyday stuff like wearing clothes, laundry and cleaning.

You see, I'm back in school. My priorities have shifted. Dramatically. I spend most of my spare time at the computer reading, researching, studying, writing, and turning things in. Crazy.

I have two classes through the BYU Idaho Pathway Program. I thought it would be easy since one of them is a religion class: Book of Mormon 1. Ah, I couldn't have been more wrong. It's...challenging. I mean that in every sense of the word. It's hard. It requires more than just reading and getting the right answers on a quiz. It requires me to Change. Inside myself. Which means that I have to change the way I do things on the outside so that I'll think different on the inside, therefore changing my perception and perspective of the world and the people around me. I have to ask myself why this should be so hard since my faith has been such a large part of my life since I was born. Well, maybe it's because I've realized how much I've depended on The Church to carry me along and I've neglected the reason for the church: To bring me closer to God.

It's too bad that it's taken a class and deadlines and homework and a 'Grade' to get me to do this but it has. I'm thankful for this opportunity and for the support I have from so many in my life. It's been and will continue to be a great blessing.

One of my assignments was to write up a Practicum; a working plan to accomplish a goal. We were given several topics that we could choose from and I chose the first on the list which was: Prayer - Sincere morning and evening prayer every single day. Easy peasy huh? Ummm...no. The key is 'Sincere'. Not just your regular "Thank you", "Please", "Amen" type of praying. We're talking the serious thing. The "I'm not going to lie to You. I'm not going to lie to me. I really want to know You. I really want to hear You. I really want to do what You want me to do", kind of thing. Twice. Every. Day. At least.

I had to follow an outline when writing this Practicum. Answer several questions in depth and then write up a detailed plan as to how this was to be accomplished and how I would be able to gauge my progress. Sounds a bit scientific doesn't it? It was actually a good exercise for me. I didn't want it to feel 'Scientific', I wanted it to feel 'Sincere'.

In a First Presidency Message given by President Benson in December of 1988 entitled "Jesus Christ - Gifts and Expectations" ther is a sentence that has been quoted by many general authorities since that says:

"Nothing is going to startle us more when we pass through the veil to the other side than to realize how well we know our Father and how familiar His face is to us."

This is what I want to accomplish. I don't want to be startled. I want to expect that familiarity. It may take the rest of my life, but I'd really like to know Him here, in this life.

Here, in this Blog/Journal, is where I'm going to gauge my progress.

Step 1: In order to be sincere I need to create an atmosphere of gratitude and humility in myself. I thought this was best achieved through music. So I created a playlist of music to listen to in the morning and in the evening and at other times when I feel stressed or depressed. I'm surprised at how much I've learned just through listening to prayerful music. One of the songs that struck me this morning was "Nearer My God To Thee". Just the first line had me thinking:

Nearer, my God, to thee,

Nearer to thee!

E'en though it be a cross

That raiseth me.

Even though it is painful, a hardship, a trial, a difficulty, a calamity, a burden, I will accept it and use it to be nearer to God. (!!)

*Here's some thinking time*

Another goal that I've set is to memorize the words to at least two hymns. The first one I chose was one that came to me in the shower several weeks ago and I didn't know all the words. It was frustrating. I'm typing the words now from memory.

Secret Prayer

Hymn # 144

There is an hour of peace and rest unmarred by earthly care;

'Tis when before the Lord I go and kneel in secret prayer.

-

- Chorus- 

May my heart be turned to pray. Pray in secret day by day.

That this boon to mortals given may unite my soul with heaven.

-

The straight and narrow way to heaven where angels bright and fair

Are singing to God's praise, is found in constant secret prayer.

-

When sailing on life's stormy seas 'mid billows of despair,

'Tis solace to my soul to know God hears my secret prayer.

-

When thorns are strewn along my path and foes my feet ensnare,

My Savior to my aid will come if sought in secret prayer.

-

I've come to appreciate the messages in each verse. I'm making sincere progress I think.

Aren't We All Beggars...

...before the throne of Candy?

I thought it was no longer true for me. I pretty much gave up sugar over 3 years ago. Oh yeah, I'll have a cookie here, or a small piece of cake there. I don't make many sweet things at home and when I do I don't necessarily have to have piece after piece as if it were the last time I'd ever see it again. I can say "No thank you" without any feelings of regret when chocolate is offered and am content to order water at a restaurant, then have a couple of sips from my husband's Root Beer when we go out for dinner. I can even drink herbal tea with very little agave added, but I do need lemon.

The day before Halloween I had to go to Costco and pick up my usual supply of veggies, fruit, whole grain bread, soy milk and organic pumpkin seed granola. Then I saw the bags of bulk candy and realized it was almost Halloween. I can't disappoint the little sugar-a-holics when they come to my door so I picked up a single bag and called it good. (Was it a subconscious choice that there were fun sized Almond Joys and Reeses Peanut Butter Cups in that bag?)

I was looking over the apples (HAVE YOU SEEN THE PRICE OF APPLES??) trying to decide if I would treat myself to some Honey Crisp apples or just go with the lower priced Fuji and got into a conversation with a young mother doing the same thing. Her little boy was munching away on some candy and she had 2 bags of candy in her cart. She convinced me to treat myself to some Honey Crisp apples, especially when I told her that I don't eat candy anymore...She was impressed. I was smug.

I got home, unloaded the groceries and started putting them away. I put the bag of candy on the dining room table (1st mistake, I should have taken it over to the neighbor's for safe keeping) and proceeded to find places for everything else when my eyes started straying to That Bag. At first scornfully, as the little voices started calling me through the cellophane bag and I dismissed them with the calm assurance of One Who Has Abstained. I don't know what happened then. I don't. I think I was possessed.

I Opened The Bag.

For all you mothers out there you KNOW: Opening the bag = ringing the dinner bell and saying "COME AND GET IT!" This was mistake #2 a sin.

One little fun sized Almond Joy lead to two, then three, then I just HAD to have a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup too because I just knew all the trick-or-treaters were going to trick-or-treat me out in less than 36 hours and THERE WOULDN'T BE ANY MORE because I don't have any children at home to rob!

I spilled the bag onto the table and threw that cellophane bag on the floor as I started pawing (PAWING) through the pile. I took ALL the little Almond Joys out of the pile and stashed them in a container at the back of my cupboard. SAFE! I guiltily ate one more Reeses Peanut Butter Cup with a large glass of milk (Ahhhhhh!) and scooped the rest of the candy into my largest bowl (it barely fit) which was comforting, I hadn't really made THAT much of a dent in it. Then I hid the bowl in the fireplace behind the chain curtain. "There", I said to myself. I'm fine now. I'm good. It was an aberration. It' won't happen again.

This is not the end of the story. Remember the little stash? The 15-20 fun sized Almond Joys hibernating in my cupboard? This is shameful, truly shameful, but I understand confession is good for the soul.

The trick-or-treaters came. And I was generous! I gave out two at a time to each little visitor, admired their costumes and waved them merrily on. Then I started worrying. The bowl was emptying faster than I expected and my husband isn't one to turn off the lights early. I began to worry that I would have to reveal my little stash ("Where did all these Almond Joys come from?" my husband would ask suspiciously. "They weren't here before.") I cringed. I was Lot's wife looking back to my little pile of pilfered coconut, almond and chocolate confections, loath to share it with anyone, and praying I wouldn't be turned into a pillar of salt. I started handing out only one to each little ghoul, and I did feel selfish. I kept looking at the clock, knowing that the door would be silent soon after 8. It came down to bottom of the bowl and those little Almond Joys were weighing heavier than a 50 lb. bag of sugar. But I did not relent.

I suggested that we just turn off the porch lights and close up shop but my generous husband would have none of that. No little sweet-toothed-beggar would go away empty handed from our door. No sirree! While the next trio waited at the door he leaped up the stairs and brought down, to my mounting shame, his own box of full sized Snickers Bars and handed them out. Guilt, Guilt, GUILT! But still, I would not relent. It was a matter of pride now. How shameful to reveal to my generous husband my smallness...I am small.

Then, in the end...he brought out the treats I keep on hand for my grand-daughter Sophie. (This is truly pitiful.) Her little bags of Teddy Grahams and Welches Fruit snacks. I couldn't watch. I went upstairs. Each step weighed down by the great weight of my, now 12, fun sized Almond Joys. I am a selfish monster.

The next day, November 1st, I made brownies for my husband. (He loves brownies.) He was having a meeting at our house that night and I decided to make up for my smallness and weakness by making refreshments. After making the batter I had a thought! "I am bigger than Fun Sized Almond Joy's." (A lot bigger.) I dug out my little stash, unwrapped each one and pressed them into the batter before baking. My offering to the new Sunday School Presidency looking for some redemption. How better to dress up chocolate brownies than with more chocolate and coconut?

During their meeting I went upstairs to sew and my beloved, forgiving, kind, and generous of spirit, sister Lisa called and I confessed...which lead to her confessions and we started laughing so hard I had to lay down on the floor. Tears flowed freely as we guffawed loudly and with an great hilarity bordering on insanity, (I wonder what those men thought of the insane cackling that was going on upstairs during their meeting.) about our similar foibles. We are sisters, it's true.

SHE! bought candy at the BEGINNING of October thinking it would last...after opening the bag. *snort* Yeah, right. Then she hid the bag on her husband's side of the bed. The honest man that he is would put the empty wrappers back in the bag, but SHE! would hide her wrappers at the bottom of the trash can so that he thought he'd eaten the entire bag himself. We are not so different. But there is comfort in not feeling alone.

I love you Lisa, from the top of your pointy head to the end of your webbed toes. xoxox

Next time I will not buy the candy. My husband will. And he will hide it...from me. He has way more will power than I do.

The Journey

This whole thing started out as sleeplessness and so far it's ended the same, but the journey inbetween has been...not what I expected, in a good way.


In the past 4+ months I have never felt so out of control, so tired, so unendingly sick, dizzy, anxious, nauseated, frantic and exhausted in my life. After 4 different prescriptions and the threat of a 5th I finally just said No. Stop. Wait.

I was so afraid that I would get addicted to the sleeping pills that I gave no thought to the "Lowest-Dose-of Hormones-You-Can-Get-In-A-Birth-Control-Pill" that was given to me to 'Balance' my hormones after a lengthy period of time with little or no sleep last October.

It was The Pill that caused the most problems. While it gave my flagging hormones a needed boost at the beginning it created a firestorm of negative effects for the next several months. Towards the end, meaning the last two weeks of taking The Pill, and the two weeks after that, I really did think I was going crazy. Literally. I was really, really scared. I cried at the drop of a hat or a casual, "Hey Kristine. How're you doing?" I was losing weight because I felt so nauseated most of the time. There were many days when I didn’t trust myself to drive because I was so dizzy. My hands shook. My thoughts raced. I couldn't concentrate on ANYTHING. No movies, no books, not even listening to books. I would pace around the house during the day with nervous, exhausted energy and not get anything done. Panic would fill my chest at the thought of fixing dinner for just Steve and I, let alone for a family get together. I longed for and dreaded bedtime. Crazy, frustrating dreams haunted my sleep. When in the temple, or in church meetings I had to hold on to the armrests of the chair or Steven’s hands to keep myself from jumping up and running out of the room, not even knowing why. I found out from friends that I'm an amazing 'faker'. I guess I can fake it pretty well for short periods of time.

My poor husband was the only one who saw it all. He's been such a rock, such a deep well of patience. I'd been praying for relief. Begging. I'd had several blessings and I had also been administered to. I felt so overwhelmed with daily tasks that I finally asked for more help.

The RS Presidency came over one night to 'visit'. I have a feeling they'd taken notice of my strange behavior in RS the Sunday before and they wanted to check on me. Melynda, who knew part of what was going on, asked me, "How's the sleep thing?" and I just broke down in tears and told them everything. They were very kind and understanding. I was so embarrassed but also relieved. We laughed about some of the stranger things and they shared some of their own experiences also. They stayed for more than an hour and when they left they all hugged me Hard, and told me they would all pray for me. I felt so unworthy, but so very thankful.

After a few days more of the same ol' nastiness I broke down and wrote an e-mail to my children, my brothers and sisters, and my parents asking for prayers of healing, and for understanding if I wasn't able to carry off the Family Reunion this year. (It's my turn.) The return of love and concern, and promises of prayers and help was so overwhelming and immediate that I spent the day in tears of gratitude. I even got e-mails and messages from nieces and nephews whom I didn't contact. Such is the family grapevine.

Things didn't change a whole lot for a few days and I was getting so very desperate. The sleeping pills weren't giving me more than 6 hours of sleep a night and often less than that. I went to see the Dr. again and he prescribed an anti-depressant telling me that I wouldn't feel the full effect for at least two weeks. I was hopeful and things went well for a couple of days and then I started feeling my heart rate rise for lengthy periods of time and then, when I went on my usual walk last Monday (March 5), my heart was racing so fast that my entire jaw ached up into the back of my head. It scared me. I thought to myself, "Is this a heart attack? A stroke?" I had no cell phone and I was walking along a deserted ditch bank. I slowed my pace and finally made it home then went right to the Doctor AGAIN. Yes, my blood pressure was unusually high and there was a mention of another prescription for high blood pressure and I finally said 'No. I'm going off the anti-depressant. I'm just going to take the pills for sleep and I'll see you at the end of the month and we'll take it from there.' I had also started some other, different things that have created a peaceful place inside me. A place to go, and things to do, that can only bring good things to my mind and heart.

I've seen the nurse twice since then to measure my blood pressure and today it was 110/80. Perfect.

I've had almost a week of 'feel good' days. No nausea. No dizziness. No helpless feelings of depression. The anxiety has lessened, though I still get minor panic attacks. I still don't get a full night’s sleep but I'm sure that will come in time.

I had no idea that when I was asking for help and prayers that they would be answered like this: My faith has increased incredibly. My awareness of the suffering of others has increased. My prayers lately have been far more grateful and heartfelt than ever before, and the askings are rarely for me anymore. What I've gone through in the past months is a drop in an immense bucket compared to a gentleman just down the block who has serious back pain, and has had it almost all his life, along with life threatening asthma but who has served as a bishop and is now the Stake Patriarch, and has always been a kind and generous man as long as I've known him.

-Or an amazing friend just down the street who is suffering with brain cancer/chemo/surgery and still has such faith and cheerfulness about her.

-Or the young mother of 4 young girls who is in her last weeks of pregnancy with twin boys and is on bedrest to keep them. She already knows that they will be born with cleft lips and possibly palates and may have to be taken C-section, yet she seems so peaceful and full of faith.

-Or the sweet friend who's been through, and is still going through what I've experienced and more, and she's also dealing with daily trips to the hospital to be with her dieing father.

I still have to take a pill to get any kind of sleep. But it's not an ISSUE any more. My Heavenly Father had a much greater blessing to bestow on me: I KNOW that I have an amazing network of loving and concerned friends and family. I've had an increase of faith and tender awareness of blessings. I have a greater appreciation for the atonement of my Savior, and the healing power of daily scripture study. And I understand on a much deeper level the power of Caring For Others. I live among angels and I want to be just like them.

Airline Wisdom

Recently I've been able to witness a very common occurrence no less than 6 times in less than 10 days in one form or another:



No, it's not very exciting. And  yes, I mostly ignored it. But after hearing it time after time over the course of one's life there are certain things that begin to make sense in more than just the airplane scenario. 

Thank you Elder Uchtdorf.

For instance, that whole part about making sure that your air mask is on securely before you help anyone else. There are some who may see that as silly or even selfish. How hard is it to quickly put a child's air mask on before your own. Isn't that a bit selfish or even dangerous to the child to deprive them of oxygen just so you can get your oxygen first? But there is wisdom here. How can we possibly help a helpless child if we ourselves fall into unconsciousness before we're able to help them? What if they're fear is so great that we have to waste precious airless moments struggling with them in order to put their mask on, and then keep it on?

All kinds of scenarios. All kinds of outcomes. But the basic message is that you have to be in a position of strength in order to give strength to others. If you don't have it to begin with, how can you give it to anyone else?

Lately, that's how I feel. I have no strength. I am weak, weak, weak, tired, tired, tired.

I'm doing everything I can to get back to a position of strength but I think it's going to take some time.

It's hard for me to be patient with myself. I don't want to go back to the doctor and say, "I need more drugs." I really don't think that's the answer anyway. Maybe it's the whole patience thing...yeah, not so good at that.

I take Xanax one night and get 8 hours, I feel gritty eyed in the morning and a bit hung over but it was sleep. I take it the next night and get 6 hours with a couple of toss and turn hours afterwards and a draggy day. I thought I'd take my friend's advice and try 1/2 Ambien at bed time and if I wake up during the night, take the other. It worked for 2 nights but last night I took 1/2, never fell asleep so I took the second half at about two and skimmed the surface of sleep like a skeeter bug. The surface tension of sleep was just too hard to penetrate even with drugs. I understand the a little soap will soften the surface tension of water so that fruit flies will drown...

My brain won't let me sleep. My eyes jiggle in their sockets like nervous twitchy bugs when I try to keep them closed, yet if I open them so that they can fall closed naturally my eyelids hang there at half mast, limp and useless, feeling tired and stupid with my eyeballs hanging like dull red moons just beyond the sails of sleep.

My hot flashes and night sweats have increased uncomfortably, in frequency and intensity, which doesn't help.

I have a lot of questions to ask someone after this life.

Most of them begin with 'Why?'

On the upside: I have a most patient, kind, supportive caring, strong husband who's trying desperately to help me put on my oxygen mask.

I'm going to try some relaxing yoga before bed tonight. I hear that helps.

First Trip Across The Pond

First of all I'll preface this with the advice that IF you decide to go Transatlantic, either plan on going First Class, where you *might* sleep, or if you decide to go coach just don't plan on sleeping at all. That way, if you do sleep it will be a pleasant surprise.

That said we'll just move on.

Our plane left Salt Lake on Saturday, October 15th at 7:10 am. We arrived in Frankfurt Germany via Phoenix-Philadelphia at about 9:30 am Germany time Sunday the 16th (which is about 1:30 am Salt Lake time). Our arrival was a miracle. At least to me, because I thought that flight would NEVER end. It just kept going and going and going. I have a new idea of Hell and it closely resembles a transatlantic seat in coach right behind the bulkhead with a view into first class where they're actually RECLINING and being served a hot breakfast and orange juice in GLASS glasses *with cloth napkins!*, unlike my place where they *say* your seat is capable of being in a position other than 'upright' but it sure doesn't feel like it. My spine and head and rear can testify to this. I know I looked scary when facing the passport officials but they stamped my passport anyway. I guess they're used to people looking like that, (and the US dollar is VERY welcome).

 This is the pickup area at the Frankfurt International Airport.

Munchen is actually what we call Munich...which begs the question: Why don't we just call it what they call it? It IS their city. Do they secretly call Salt Lake City something else entirely? I don't know...

The landscape is very reminiscent of our New England. Rolling hills, trees, rural farm scenes etc... The only thing that let me know that we were in Germany was the architecture and the signs in German.

They drive on the same side of the road that we do, their steering wheel is on the same side, they're cars tend to be smaller, the roads narrower, the city designs less green. Which isn't to say that they're not beautiful, just less landscaping with green things like trees, shrubs etc...

Funny thing - Their exit signs look like this:

Pronounced (h)ousefahrt (House without the 'H' but it's sure tempting to pronounce it with a genteel Auss). For Americans anything with the word 'fart' in it is going to get at least a smirk. There's even a T-shirt sold at the army base that says:

Pretty funny huh? Had I not gone to Germany already in the know about this little tidbit I probably would have asked the same questions because the signs are EVERYWHERE. Just think of all the places you see our EXIT sign. Yeah...all those same places. The word for 'Entrance' is Einfahrt.

Jeni picked us up at about 10:30 or so Sunday morning. It was so wonderful to see Jeni, Fitz and Swede!! As tired as I was I didn't sleep at all until we went to bed that night, even though I'd been up for more than 36 hours by that time. That's what happiness will do to a person. We saw Stephanie, Rue and Al when we finally got to Bergrheinfeld about 2 hours later. Oh how I'd missed my daughters! It was just lovely. Rue is a darling, sweet baby. Swede is as charming as ever and Fitz is a sunny little entertainer. We went for a long walk with the kids in Bergrheinfeld ending up at a little park close to home.

We only saw Al Sunday afternoon and a little bit Monday morning and then he was gone for the rest of our visit on field training exercises with his platoon.

Monday we spent visiting the Army Base in Schweinfurt and aldstadt (old town) Schweinfurt. I love aldstadt ANYWHERE in Germany. They do such a great job preserving their old cities. The courtyards are all cobbled and people just wander around feeding the pigeons. Fitz and Swede love chasing the poor birds but they're so fat they probably need the exercise anyway and it's so nice to watch the kids have such fun doing something so simple. These pictures were taken with Schweinfurt City Hall in the background. Stephanie took a tour of this building and has some nice pictures.

While Steven and Jeni fed the kids at McDonalds, Stephanie and I went hunting for real food. We came back with 4 Döners for the grownups. It's a type of German sandwich which isn't German at all, it's Turkish. Which doesn't really  matter in the least because it was first real food I'd had in a while and was so scrumptious I can't believe I ate the whole thing! It had shredded cabbage instead of lettuce, red cabbage too. Very, very yummy.

Jeni picked up some very decadent special order cupcakes that afternoon that a friend had made and we got to meet her friend Jessica and her children when they came for the cupcake party. I went with Stephanie to the local grocery store EDEKA and picked up some stuff for dinner and I was able to see a bit of the town and get a good look at the church whose bells haunted me almost every night, ringing every 15 minutes so you are never in doubt as to what time it is. It's a beautiful old church, by the way, just rather insistent that everyone know what time it is.

It was a bit damp for a few days and we didn't venture forth much. We played with the kids and Steven treated us girls to the Day Spa on base where I got a massage from a large German Fraulein (very strong, never been slapped on the back that hard before) and Jeni and Stephanie got pedicures. It was really nice. On Friday we went to the Mall...which is really just like any other mall except that English isn't spoken. Which does change the shopping experience considerably. We let the kids run around in the play areas...

...and I discovered that eating establishments don't provide any plastic-ware! Just silverware. It became very apparent that everyone is very conscious of what is thrown away. They recycle EVERYTHING. Even in the restrooms they don't have paper towels to dry one's hands with, they have either air dryers or those big dispensers with huge rolls of fabric. They don't want to have to recycle if they can avoid it. Commendable.

This post is getting a bit lengthy so I'll pause here and continue later. Maybe then I'll be able to access some of Stephanie's pictures too.