Abrupt Endings

The tour of Germany has ended abruptly. We got very sad news that The Professor's father passed away suddenly.

We are making our way home early to be with family. We are currently on a four hour layover in Amsterdam waiting for our flight to Detroit. We should be in Texas late tonight and home tomorrow morning before heading to Ohio on Friday.

Please keep The Professor and our family in your thoughts.

Haus Frau

Dillypoo has become a German haus frau:

Today I washed laundry and hung it on a line to dry. OUTSIDE. Without fabric softener.

Don't let anyone try and sell you on the joy of clothing dried in fresh air and sunshine. Dillypoo is here to tell you the truth: Sun dried cloth feels like sandpaper.

The soft, fluffy bath towels we brought with us? Not so soft and fluffy anymore. And I dread pulling on those jeans! My thighs (which may or may not have accumulated some unwanted souvenirs in the four days I've been here) will likely be rubbed raw because of sun baked denim.

And so my unconventional European vacation continues. Dillypoo is trapped in a ramshackle (formerly quaint) farmhouse in the middle of Nowhere, Germany:




While The Professor and the others spend quality time in their studios making art, Dillypoo is learning to be a country girl, with varying degrees of success.

For instance, did you know that the country is infested with bugs? Flying bugs. Crawling bugs. Ugly bugs. I understand now why the VW beetle is called a bug.

Tuesday night I fought an enormous grasshopper before going to bed. I thought it was a mouse when I first saw it scamper by in the dark.

It was trying to steal my luggage.

I waged battle with an iron washcloth from the clothes line. The Professor refused to take sides and just rolled over in bed when I screamed.

The thing finally retreated and I slammed the bedroom door shut. Somebody spotted it the next day trying to break into the fridge.

As it turns out, you can take the girl out of the city but you can't take the city out of the girl. So I set up an office so I can read blogs, chat with the office and keep up with Lindsay Lohan's sad saga:

The setup also keeps me closer to The Professor, who may (or may not) be more helpful if another bug attacks during waking hours:

I saw a swarm of termites under the back steps yesterday.

If you hear a squeal of delight tomorrow, it will be Dillypoo as she boards a train for Berlin.

Where in the World is Dillypoo?

The Professor is participating in an artist-in-residency program in Hilmsen, Germany for the entire month of July. I decided to join him for a bit, but it took a while to get here!

The little town of Hilmsen is 17 hours, two planes, three trains and a car ride away from home. The closest town of any size, Salzwedel, is about 20 minutes away. If you ask one of the locals there to point you in the direction of Hilmsen, they won't be able to tell you.

That's how remote this place is!

We are staying in an old farmhouse with six other artists, all of whom are from Texas. The accommodations are pretty rustic (to put it mildly). The artists spent the first day or two they were here clearing the house and studios of dirt, clutter and weasel shit.

So sorry I missed that part!

But the place is quaint even if a bit uncivilized, and the house itself is huge:

There are three small kitchens, at least eight bedrooms and four bathrooms.

I spent my first day cleaning one of the kitchens, which reminds me of every kitchen I've ever read about in a Jane Austin novel, right down to the scrubbed wooden counters, masonry walls and stone floors:

We keep the doors open to let the dog come and go and the cool air breeze through, and birds fly in and out of the studios (which used to house livestock):

Obviously, this is a different kind of vacation! Communal living with shared spaces, separate groceries and everyone coming and going throughout the day. The Professor rented a car and there are bicycles we can use to get to town for groceries and other supplies (like beer, beer and beer).

We do intend to do some sightseeing, though. I told The Professor I wasn't coming all this way to watch him paint! I want to see some history, so we have trips planned to Berlin and Hamburg, and the surrounding towns are full of interesting things to see, do and eat.

Salzwedel is especially charming, full of tiny streets, old buildings and little shops:

It's also home to my first German beer, enjoyed upon arrival of the last train on my very long journey here:

Auf Wiedersehen!

Blogging at 20,000 Feet

This entry was composed at 20,000 feet (or so) on Saturday. I was unable to post it until today.

Dillypoo is on vacation! And I have my favorite plane seat again.

Not!

I began my holiday with an airport pedicure:

And now I'm flying in style with pink toenails after spontaneously upgrading my seat to "comfort class" (a fancy and expensive name for more legroom).

For the equivalent of $20 an hour, I get room to stretch my legs. And since the seat next to me is empty, I can also spread out!

The travel arrangements would be ideal if it weren't for the screaming baby in the cabin with me. It's on hour four of non-stop wailing.

Just another reminder of why I don't have kids. Maybe I should give it one of my Xanax.

Anyhoo, you're probably wondering why Dillypoo is trapped in comfort class with pink toenails and a screaming baby. Well, I'm on my way to meet The Professor in Germany, the land of my ancestors and home to beer, wiener schnitzel, the Black Forest and gnomes!

The Professor has been there for more than two weeks and I'm pretty sure he's missing me. Or he may be waiting to interrogate me about my recent house cleaning binge.

It's possible he suspects me of disposing of all his treasures. He's been reading my blog.

But first I have to get to Amsterdam and then to Hamburg on a plane that is turning into the flight from hell.

The screaming tot has a full diaper now.

I just hope my iPod battery makes it another three hours!

High Five

Time for a Weigh Day Update!

I know. It's been a while. But Dillypoo reached another milestone tonight and I wanted to share.

I am FIVE POUNDS away from goal!

I weigh 153.0 pounds. That's 49.6 pounds gone since starting this journey in January 2009.

Wow!

Making a Spectacle of Myself

Dillypoo found a box of old eyeglasses during the Big Purge:

I entertained myself by trying all of them on.

I think these are from the early 1990s:

I need bigger hair to pull this look off. At least they aren't Sally Jesse Rafael red. Gag!

Next up, my Harry Potter phase before I even knew who Harry Potter was:

I'm not sure Harry had even occurred to J.K. Rowling when I wore these.

Evidently I really liked this style because I found a second pair:

My Buddy Holly stage:

And an ugly nerd phase from 1999:

You could argue I'm still in a nerd phase (but with better glasses).

Getting a little more stylish:

I finally discovered my face in the early 2000s and stopped hiding behind my glasses:

I also found sunglasses:

The ugly nerd glasses are better with dark lenses.

I even found non-prescription sunglasses from when I wore contacs:

There could be a reason it's taking me a week to get this cleaning project finished.

Clutter Bug

The problem with reorganizing one closet is that it creates a domino effect of purging and mess making:

Dillypoo has been cleaning house for a week.

I haven't been out for a walk or run since Wednesday. Emptying boxes, bins and drawers has become a time-consuming, obsessive quest.

So far, I've made one midnight run to the Super Target, two trips to Goodwill and three visits to The Container Store. I have another stack of goodies to donate to charity, both of the bins for garbage and recycling are full, and I suspect I'll be hauling overflow trash to my office dumpster Monday morning.

But I'm starting to see success. The disaster closet that started it all is finally neat and organized:

To get there, though, I had to tackle the bedroom closet and reorganize the bathroom:

I also boxed The Professors piles of papers and stacked them in another room.

Next is deciding what to do with my extensive collection of Disneyana. It took 30 years, but I've finally outgrown my passion for Mickey and friends.

Anybody out there interested in a Disney Christmas village?

I'm keeping all of my magic wands, though.

Ka-Boom!

Dillypoo celebrated Independence Day with family last weekend. My brother and his brood have a big party every year.

It's good, wholesome family fun with lots of kids, swimming, a bounce house and food. And an ice cream trough:

It's a 4th of July tradition. It's also pretty disgusting if you're over the age of 12:

We just toss the kiddos back into the pool to rinse off afterwards.

My brother ends the party with a fireworks show every year. All of the Dads try and out-do each other with their ability to keep a punk lit and send bottle rockets blasting into the night sky.

This year's winner was a definite overachiever:



There's a reason those canisters are supposed to hold only one firecracker at a time!

Intervention

Dillypoo is tackling a home improvement project on her own this week. The Professor is out of town for a while and I figure now is a good time to clean out this:

One of only two closets in our house. I have no earthly idea what is crammed in here, but I need that space to store things like spare blankets and office supplies.

And since I haven't put anything away in there in years, I figure it's best to take a peek while The Professor is gone. It'll be less painful for both of us.

It took me two days to remove 19 years of accumulated crap. And I mean CRAP.

Stuffed into this tiny space were a collection of old tin toys, some of The Professor's childhood mementos, a box of family photos I've been looking for since starting this blog, various electronic bits and pieces, three old telephones, my scrapbook from our 2001 trip to Russia, two boxes of cords and wires, a box of papers from a job I quit in 1997 and a shelf full of empty boxes:

I also found 3 million music CD cases:

3 million empty CD cases:

I mean, really? Empty boxes and music CD cases?

I decided to discuss the mess with The Professor on a Skype chat:

Dillypoo: "I emptied the hall closet yesterday. OMG...the crap that was in there!"

The Professor: "What did you do with it?"

Dillypoo: "Piled it all over the studio...for now."

The Professor: "So is the house going to be better or worse when I get home?"

Dillypoo: "The house will be FABULOUS...well...at least the closet will be."

The Professor: "When the door is closed the closet doesn't really bother me."

Dillypoo: "Well, the door is open and you have a SERIOUS PACK RAT ISSUE."

When I asked him about the two boxes of wires and cables, random bits of ancient electronics, his empty boxes and the 3 million empty music CD cases, he actually had the gall to say, "I may want to keep a few of the cables...and some of the toy boxes I may want to keep. We could fold them up and store them in the attic."

Dillypoo is fully aware that both she and The Professor are susceptible to Pack Ratitis. It's genetic. The Professor's father has not one but two garages packed floor to ceiling with (ahem) "treasure." My grandfather's garage was the same. And periodically we have to haul everything in my parent's garage to the curb in search of their artificial Christmas tree.

But the first step towards recovery is admitting you have a problem, and I've been battling my hoarding tendency for several years. I follow the "one in, one out" rule when I go shopping now: One pair of shoes in, one pair of shoes out. This has helped me keep the overflow of my personal stash of crap to a minimum.

Which is crucial because our only spare closet is full of The Professor's EMPTY BOXES.

Well, it was. My reclamation of the hall closet is well under way and will soon be neatly organized with labeled boxes, bins and bags for linens, stationery, photos and other useful things.

And The Professor can rummage through his empties and bits of wiring out in the garage, where that kind of crap belongs.

Choosy Choosers Choose Turkey

My bosses bought lunch today. They do that a lot, actually. It's one of the perks of working at a small company.

You never know when or what it'll be. Pizza or pasta, Chinese stir fry or Mexican fajitas, or sub sandwiches. Today it was barbecue.

Dillypoo doesn't always partake in the lunch treats, though. Especially on pizza days. I can rarely justify pizza anymore. Too unhealthy.

But it is possible to enjoy most of the freebie meals without blowing my daily food plan.

Take today's BBQ:

Sliced brisket with sauce on a hamburger bun with cole slaw and a bag of chips. This tasty plate would cost me about 17 points. It breaks down like this:

sliced beef - 5 points
bun - 3 points
sauce - 1 point
cole slaw - 4 points
Cheetos - 4 points

I get 21 points a day. I'm not keen on eating most of them at one meal. So I chose the turkey and made a couple of easy substitutions:

This plate is about seven points total!

turkey - 3 points
sandwich thin - 1 point
mustard - 0 points
canned peas - 1 point
100 calorie CheezIts - 2 points

Add that to my one point breakfast, and I still have 13 points for an afternoon snack and dinner.

It's so easy to make good choices if you try!

Security System

Dogs make excellent burglar alarms.

Or so I'm told. My four-legged alarm doesn't know the difference between a Death Eater and a stray cat.

I was just entering the Land of Nod last night when Frida started barking. A slow, pursposeful bark. A bark unlike her usual frenetic outbursts. And she was growling.

Frida never growls.

A glance at the clock showed it was a little after midnight. I slid out of bed and stood at the top of the stairs in my sock monkey night shirt.

Dillypoo (timidly): "Frida?"

Frida: "grrrrrr....woof....."

Dillypoo (more loudly): "Frida?"

I listened as she trotted around the living room. Her toenails need clipping.

I grabbed the phone and tiptoed down the stairs. Frida met me at the bottom, tongue lolling out.

Moving slowly towards the front door, I peeked out the window just in time to see a neighborhood puss strolling down the walk. A cat burgler in black and white spots.

When I got back upstairs, Frida was curled up on her bed.

I, on the other hand, lay awake another hour waiting for Bellatrix and Fenrir to blast their way up the stairs.