Tag Archives: Random Musings

My dad lives in a small Bavarian village about an hour outside of Munich. I usually don’t blog about it, even though it’s crazy adorable, because it’s also immensely sleepy and boring. The little hamlet shuts down after 6 or 7 pm on weekdays. And pretty much all day on weekends. And Mondays, too. It’s virtually closed whenever it rains, or if it’s chilly out, or when it’s too sunny to do anything. Also, on holidays dedicated to random saints you’ve never heard of (St. Klaus of Kartoffelsalat, St. Franz of Ausfahrts, and others*), which seem to happen every other day or so.

If someone could explain to me why St. Sigfried of Wochenender’s Day is celebrated on a Tuesday, that would be very helpful.

Also, the internet connection is very bad, so Rand has to work outside. Yes, his laptop is balanced on a stump.

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The point is, there isn’t very much to do. I doubt you’d find it all that interesting. But that’s kind of why we love it. Sometimes, when life is really overwhelming and crazy (and for Rand, it often is), there’s nothing better that being bored out of your skull, you know?

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I have trouble describing my dad. He’s not incredibly cheerful, but he isn’t melancholy, either. I don’t think anyone would call him warm, nor would it be accurate to say that he’s unfriendly.

If I were forced to put his demeanor into words, I’d say he’s rather serious, and often rather annoyed. His annoyance usually stems from the fact that everyone else around him is failing to be serious.

Yes. That sounds about right.

This makes it rather difficult to take a photo with my dad, because for the most part, photo-taking is not serious business. And the command to stand and smile while someone snaps picture after picture of you can annoy just about anybody.

Consequently, I’ve stopped asking him to pose for pictures, and just nab a few candid snapshots when I can.

But on this trip, he was uncharacteristically chipper.

It was kind of weird.

So Rand and I decided to press our luck. We made my dad take a few photos with us. And, well, they turned out quite nice.

Here’s my dad with Rand:

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Taken: Summer, 2010, Seattle. Found: Spring, 2014, Bavaria.

 

We are sitting in a cafe in Füssen, eating a way-too-sweet (but still delicious) merengata dessert when it happens. The screen on my new camera flashes “memory card full” and then goes to black. I can’t take any more photos.

“What the hell?” I yell, and then, for reasons that are still confusing to me now, I start to shake the camera. Unsurprisingly, this has no effect on the fullness of the memory card.

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I have a mustache.

Acceptance now, you guys.

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I’ve mostly come to terms with this. I’ve had it for the better part of twenty years, and like my weird toe (which we will not be discussing) or my amazing European nose, it is very much a part of me.

But every now and then, I get the crazy idea that maybe I should get rid of it, which is what we are sometimes tempted to do to the things that put the “unconventional” in our “unconventionally beautiful.”

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I’ve been thinking a lot about Malaysia Airlines flight 370 which went missing days ago. I suppose everyone has. It’s strange and sad, and right now it’s an open-ended mystery, which I think must be excruciating for the family members of the 239 people who were on board.

I honestly can’t imagine anything worse that not knowing.

Sunset on our flight coming back from Palm Springs.

I am not a nervous flyer. It’s hard to be with Rand. He constantly spouts out facts (or, at least, I assume they are facts. I’ve never bothered to check, because he says them with such confidence. And perhaps that’s for the best) about how flying is far safer than driving. About the infinitesimal odds of being in a plane accident. About how there is absolutely nothing to worry about.

Most of the time, I believe him. I dread turbulence not because I’m afraid we’ll fall out of the sky, but rather because I will inevitably start feeling sick. My concerns are not when I fly with him, or even when I fly alone. But when Rand takes a flight without me, I get nervous. I feel like facing the issue of my own mortality is way easier than facing the issue of Rand’s.

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Isn’t it kind of amazing how we occasionally forget that we’re all people? It happens all the time. We crowd into elevators, we cut people off in traffic, we curse at actors on TV when they’re wearing that new JCrew top that we couldn’t afford (okay, maybe I’m the only one that does that last bit). We forget that everyone around us has feelings and families and thoughts and goals.

And we start treating one another like crap.

Heaven help anyone who’s in the wrong place at the wrong time.

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This morning, I received an email from a lovely gentleman. And he really is lovely. It just took me a while to realize it. Let’s call him Ted, because that’s only three letters long, and I’ve always liked the name.

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There has been a lot of talk lately about Rand’s facial hair. And not just by me. Other folks have been blogging about it, too.

He started growing it out after Thanksgiving, just to see what it would look like. And it looked pretty much the same as it always did – a bit shaggier perhaps, but that was it. But then, after a few months, the whole thing started to curl.

I, personally, thought this was hilarious. Rand was not as much of a fan. I remained fascinated at how much his look changed. Some days he resembled an old-timey-prospector …

There’s a joke here … something about how he could pan my river anytime …

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Rand is growing out his beard.

He can barely keep it clean on his own.

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I know, I know. This is supposed to be a travel blog, right? And for the most part, my husband’s facial hair plays very little role in our travel, much less yours.

Goodness, what if it did, though. That would be one crazy-ass superpower, would it not?

Me: Honey, we’re going to miss our flight!

Rand: What should I do?

Me: SHAVE, YOU IDIOT. SHAVE LIKE YOU’VE NEVER SHAVED BEFORE.

End scene. 

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