Last summer, Martin was hired by an insurance company over here. They were impressed with his banking/accounting education and experience from the United States, but still required him to get officially certified thru the German system.
That usually takes a few years. Continue reading
My last meal before the fasting begins after midnight. A chocolate-banana-peanut butter smoothie served in a cup with a fat panda stuffing its face on it. It could not be more fitting.
Also, shout-out to Martin for driving 20 kilometers to the only store open today to get the bananas. Grocery stores are closed on Sundays, except for the store at the airport. I really had my heart set on this smoothie, so away he went. It helped to remind him that’s the last pregnancy errand he’ll ever have to run in his life.
That’s a crazy idea, isn’t it? Continue reading
While taking out the trash today, I realized that George Clooney made our pizza dinner.
I googled “George Clooney pizza box” and discovered this has been a thing for YEARS. Amazing. You learn something new every day.
Since FestBaby will be here in a few weeks, Martin and I decided to head out this weekend and pick up some important baby items. Unfortunately, Germany doesn’t have an abundance of “baby-marts” like in the United States, and we knew ahead of time that things are a little pricier over here, but we learned there was a baby store in a nearby village, so we headed to it.
Whenever we run out of eggs, I love telling the kids to go get some more from these friendly neighbors in our village. They keep us well-supplied. Just a five minute walk, and payment is made with the honor system. Continue reading
If it were possible, I would call my pancreas into a meeting, point at it and snarl, “You’re fired!”
But apparently, it already quit on me, jealous of that attention-seeking temp worker, the placenta.
So, hello, Gestational Diabetes!
We meet once again. T’was more than eight years ago since we last worked together, but oh, I remember. The daily pin-pricks. The re-vamped recipes. The food journal.
My spirits skyrocketed when I opened the freezer and spied three green boxes stacked up in the back. My spirits then plummeted back to Earth and shattered into a million pieces when I realized the boxes weren’t Girl Scout Thin Mints, but frozen spinach.
Damn you, healthy eating. Damn you. Continue reading
This guy in a suit was loitering outside my office, apparently to “take a beautiful woman out to lunch.”
I offered to go back in to find one for him, but he insisted I come along with him.
Our “New York” breakfast in Germany this morning.
Not shown: the huge plate of eggs, bacon, and potatoes they brought out later.
Last night was Martin’s first Michelin-star dining experience, so we couldn’t take things too seriously!
The West House in Kent is run by a former musician who played for a bunch of ’80s bands. Now he prepares delicious foie gras tacos and haddock and egg yolk tarts! Continue reading