Smallville

Anyone else think find the main subject in this headline amusing?
Nevermind the people who needed to be treated for smoke inhalation - we got to use the LADDER!

boom box

Tonight, Keith and I strolled the streets of Downtown Holland and enjoyed the watching the Street Performers. I get such a kick out it. You see everything from jugglers to break dancers to face painters to Young Life leaders with their guitars. Tonight my new favorite was the hula hooper. You heard me. She was amazing. Never. Stop. Hula-hooping. Usually two at once. Never mind that she had her butt hanging out of her shorts and everyone I heard comment about her said something to the effect of "wow, she's good - but why is she dressed like that?" She really was good. Silver shorts and fish net stockings and all. (The good news was she was also very pretty, so it wasn't as painful as you might be picturing.)

A block away, there's the old standby Belly Dancer. The best part of her routine is getting 3 year little girls in on the action. There were no toddlers when we approach. Just a... woman... doing her... thing. As we settled in to our spot, my husband who NEVER (seriously - never) has ANYTHING to say about another woman's appearance said "Look at her boom box!"

I scanned this poor woman from head to toe and back and could not figure out what in the world Keith would be referring to as a boom box. And then I noticed it - she had a huge portable stereo on the side walk. He really was talking about a boom box - and not in a "that's what she said" kind of way.

I seriously don't know another man on the face on the planet who would look at an adult woman, with a low cut blouse and bare midriff, shaking it all wildly and comment on her stereo. Do you? Sorry ladies, he's mine.

Klompen Dancing = Onomatopoeia

Just in case you won't make it to our neck of the woods this year - here's how the streets of Holland look these days

I live in Maybury

Last week, Holland hosted the annual parade of lights.
I missed it because I got stood up. That was okay with me - it was 20 degrees that night, without the wind chill.

But when I heard the Sinter Klaas parade was happening on Friday night, I thought - yes! A rerun!

I invited my parents to join Keith and me.
We bundled up in many layers.
We trekked downtown.
We found a parking spot.
We stood on the street.
The parade started right at 7pm.
It ended at 7:05pm.

The parade consisted of three singing groups and Santa. Old school Santa. On a horse.
Read about it and see pictures here.
It's a big time Dutch tradition. Who knew? I just thought it was a big Christmas parade.

The great part is, I recognized 4 people in a 5 minute parade.
Needless to say, my parents think I'm terribly popular.

Note to self - next year, catch the parade of lights instead.

a weekend revelation

Not only do I not live in an apartment anymore, I no longer live an apartment lifestyle.
Sunday afternoons are for eating roast and walking in the woods, like we did yesterday.
They are not for grocery stores, laundromats, and bleaching the bathroom.
They are not for to-do lists.
They are for rest and laughter and reading books and watering the yard.
They can be because when you don't commute and you have everything you need at home, you can do all those annoying errand things on Tuesday, maybe one on Wednesday, and that last minute run on Friday and still make it home in time to make dinner and still have an evening.
I appreciate my house in a whole new way today.

Only in Holland

"Our soups tonight are creamy chicken, chicken corn chowder, and chicken con queso."

Pickle breath

I love living in Michigan.
I can't think of any other place that reminds you of your breath so often.
Sometimes by air so cold and harsh that it takes your breath away.
Other times, like today, the air is so hot and thick and muggy that it hits the back of your throat and stays there.
Living 0.3 miles from the pickle factory makes these days even more fun. Not only do you have a wad of hot, sticky air caught in your throat, it also reeks of pickles.
Yum.

Try not to think about it

Dave thought we should get to know our new neighbors a bit, so he sent me the sex offenders website. You can go here to see names and addresses for convicts in your neighborhood. Then you can go here to see their pictures.

Keith was appalled at the number of "predators" in our new neighborhood - until I showed him the numbers in our old neighborhood. I guess this kind of thing is all about perspective.

I'm somewhat addicted to the website now - you can assume I've looked up your neighborhood, too. Look out, Chris Hansen -- I might have your job someday.

This one's for you, Meg

Ah, Tulip Time. It's not just Fat Balls, cross dressing, and Lemonade, folks. We're talking about an authentic celebration of Dutch heritage.

Dan and Meghan joined us for a Zoomer the other night (and a stalker drive-by of the new house). We timed it just right to see all the dancers walking by for a Klompen Dance performance. I made a few commentaries on the costumes - after 9 years here, you can't help but pick a little something up.

And just in case you thought I made it all up, look here.

And yes, they did in fact plant tulips in the shape of a windmill. Told ya it was authentic.

Enough already

I didn't take this picture, but I've seen this sad state many times in the last few days and I've had enough.