Christmas Bliss

"Where are you going for Christmas?" We begin to hear that question the Monday after fall break and the query continues right up until the very last person with travel plans steps into his escape vehicle and jets off. In past years we have ventured out into the wide world over the holidays. This year we stayed home. We had our reasons. Both Sarah and Benj are having minor surgeries this week (Benj's was yesterday and today he is fit and fiesty as usual) and we decided that it would be best to lay low. Wow, was that ever a good choice.

I am all for travel and exploration, but I am also a big fan of simplicity and rest. I love sleeping late (in my own bed) and waking to a house of still sleeping teenagers. I love searching for the leftover rolls that Benjamin has stashed somewhere in the kitchen. I love watching entire seasons of dumb TV shows and playing games until midnight and eating popcorn and chex mix and the apples and carrots and red bell peppers that David conscientiously sends in our direction. Love dancing to the Brave Combo Christmas album in the kitchen. I love wearing three different sweaters in one day just because I can. I love lounging about reading our Christmas books and making yet another batch of fudge on a whim and playing with the few friends who are also staying home for Christmas.

I think I just love a quiet Christmas because it is a great big sigh between intense sprints and being home allows me to just fall right down deep into that sigh and settle in for awhile. And while I am there, I can think, and be grateful for the love of a Father, and of a Savior, and of that baby born to traveling parents thousands of years ago.
Merry Christmas.

We're Only Here for the Food

One of our favorite things about travel is the FOOD. I say one, but really, it is pretty high up there on the list...maybe even at the tip top. Dave and I went on a weekend trip with some friends. Can you guess where by this culinary tour? The hints get better as you go along...

Lunch!

White Christmas

The snow is falling from the sky
On the arch as I drive by

The Stocklet Palace is cloaked in white

And Woluwe, a lovely sight

From my bedroom window clear

A stunning view to end the year.

OK--I know that was completely lame and I acknowledge my lack of poetry skills. If Dave were here, at least it would be clever. But Dave is sledding with the kids and I am making fudge, caramel, and seven layer cookies. Can I plead mental distraction? So what we lack in literary genius we try to make up for in Norman Rockwell-esque familial charm.

Let it snow.

More England

The sun is shining here in Belgium and that, my friends, is not something I can say every day. We have had snow and rain and ice and wind, but precious little sun. But today is amazing. I am about to plant myself in a ray of the precious stuff and get serious about Christmas, but before I do, here are a few more pictures from our trip to Bath, England.
All of you Jane Austen devotees out there will recognize the Royal Crescent--the most prestigious address in Bath. Anne Eliott comes out of the door on the far right to seek love and Captain Wentworth. Ahhhhh.

These baths date from the 16th century and were unknowing built right on top of the ancient Roman baths. Can you imagine the people watching 500 years ago?

Another Jane Austen reference--the pump rooms. This pump provided the wealthy access to the curative waters and the best society. You can still get water here for 50p a glass. And it tastes nasty.

A view of Pulteny Bridge and the park. Benj was run over by a man in a motorized wheelchair on this very bridge. I wish I had a picture of that to share.

We got our fall colors in abundance and class this year. We just love those Edwardians.
And the market around the corner. Fabulous scones and pastys and cheese and raspberry shortbread. It really is all about the food. And the fall. And the family.

Thanksgiving

I used six pounds of butter in 3 days. It was a good weekend.

Vacations

David and I have been pondering an existensial question for several years now: When does a vacation really begin? Does it begin when you finally shut off your computer, empty the last dish from the dishwasher, or close your schoolbook? Does it begin when the car is loaded with bags and snacks? When the vehicle has pulled out of the driveway or the wheels are up? Or does it really begin when you have arrived at your destination, be that Grandma's, Gran Canaria, or the couch? We have wondered because sometimes vacations seem an awful lot like work. However, I think we have finally come up with an answer...and a picture to illustrate.

The vacation begins when the raisinettes begin to fly. (Left corner of the mouth. Artfully pelted by me from the front seat. Reaction time: approximately 7 minutes.) I just love roadtrips.

Passeys and the Henge

Fall Break--did we every need it! November in Brussels means dark, cold, rain, and the irresistable urge to hibernate. Since we can't succumb, we had to get away. And where did we go? ENGLAND! Darker, colder, pretty rainy, but great TV, comprehensible conversations, and big rocks. We started our adventure on the Salisbury plane and Stonehenge. Matthew's comment: "Wow, that is big."

We learned some new vocabulary too. "Henge" means hanging. Those big tall rocks standing upright and weighing about 24 tons are called Sarcen stones and nobody knows exactly how the highly intelligent inhabitants of the British Isle in 3000BC got them to stand up like that. And then got the blue stone lintels on top. They are heavy too.
The rebellious irregularity of the fallen stones only adds to the appeal. Too bad Anna's room doesn't look that good when the towering piles of laundry collapse off her bed...

We learned lots from our handy audioguides. Matthew searched for the Tardis...

We had some impromptu Passey love...

Jubes posed beautifully...

And we decided that some interpretive art was definitely in order.

I was there too.
We miss you Sarah!

Complete

Good Morning. It is Friday. The house is quiet, and warm. If you had opened my front door at 7:43 on Tuesday morning, this is what you would have seen.

This is the view at 8:18 today:

Do you notice that subtle rosy hue? That is because my kids are all happy, my bed is made, my husband is good and kind, there is food in the refrigerator, gas in the car, peace in our hearts, and the birds are singing. Our lives are insulated in double paned happiness. We are very grateful.

Monday Morning

I am having a delightful day. It is a sunny 39 degrees outside. It is also 39 degrees inside. Why, you ask? The boiler is working just fine. All the radiators are turned on. Here is the reason for the chill:
We are having our windows replaced. All of them. Consequently, half of the windows from upstairs are on the front driveway being chiseled and hacked and caulked and cleaned. The front door is wide open so that the five French workmen can keep hacking and chiseling. We are getting a nice cross breeze. It is 11:46 which means that a 90 minute lunch break is moments away and the windows will remain on the driveway until at least 2:07.
But I really am having a fabulous day. I have to stay home to monitor progress. Because of the weather both inside and out, the only habitable room in the house is the family room. After braving the arctic climate in the master bath and giving it a good scrub, I am feeling guilt-free in my hibernation. In the family room I have my computer, my knitting, the TV, a down comforter, several loads of laundry and easy access to the kitchen. So far today I have:

Cleaned the bathroom --my justification for the rest of the list.
Talked to Sarah and her friends Chad and Megan who want to come for a visit.
Chatted about our collective future with David and decided that maybe we should refinance.
IM'd with Benjamin during his advisory. I guess it is OK to chat with your mom during advisory.
Booked our Eurotunnel tickets for Fall Break in a cottage near Bath, UK.
Figured out how to fix the colossal mistake in my knitting that could have required me to pull out half the sweater.
Messed around on Facebook
Listened to a fabulous Jeffery Holland compilation on Youtube. I love Elder Holland. Here's the link if you need a little injection of hope and humility: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u5bUKNYgRi8
Tried to book a house for our RS trip to the Alsace Christmas Markets.
Watched 4 minutes of Oprah and decided it wasn't worth it.
Listened to some classic jazz.

I am now contemplating lunch and that laundry.
I love chilly days.

German Wine Country

Everybody needs a friend that will make you do things that you wouldn't ordinarily do. Meet Anita:Anita and her family have been in Belgium for over 20 years. She is incredibly fit and loves the outdoors. She is holding the 3euro tart that we devoured with our hands at the halfway point of our adventure on the Moselle.There is a bike path that hugs the Moselle river in Germany through some of the most beautiful wine country you'll ever want to see. Anita has ridden the whole route (3 days solid) and has been talking it up so much that we decided to give it a go...in abbreviated form.

So Antia, Isabel, and I strapped the bikes to the car, drove over the Belgian border just past Tier, hopped on our bikes, and enjoyed a most beautiful fall afternoon.

This region is know for it's vineyards and the grapes were ripe on the vine. We passed several work parties gleaning by hand, and this jolly gentleman wished us "Gute Fahrt."
Don' you just love linguistic humor?

As the most inexperienced biker of the lot and general whimp, I spent most of the time behind the group. It had it's advantages. I got great shots like this one--love the downhills...

And I sometimes got to ride with the senior citizen groups that were out and about on the trail. They usually passed me up too.

A nice German couple helped Isabel with her tire. I just had to include this picure for the outfit on Mr. Fixit: Biking shoes, black socks, plaid man-pri's, a plaid shirt in similar colorway but hmmm. I love it. Reminds me of Sarah's comment when we first arrived: "You can pretty much get away with wearing anything over here..."

What a fabulous day. And I am keenly reminded of the joys of a good bike trip each time I sit down. Thanks Anita!

Second Generation Passey Blog

Hey everyone......Sarah has her own BLOG! I highly recommend that you click on over and check it out:

http://www.sarahepassey.blogspot.com/

Reading her posts makes me want to take a little time travel back to BYU. But definitely not during mid-terms.

A Little Martha Stewart

The last few weeks have been gray. And cold. And a bit misty. In other words, typically Belgian. At the football game on friday night, the ball kept shooting off in odd directions as the poor players slogged their way toward the end zone in a most persistent and determined drizzle. The rain looked somewhat whistful and romantic if you peered straight up into the lights, but that is about all I can say on it's behalf. It was cold...and wet. However, yesterday, when I pulled back the thick curtains in our bedroom, the most beautiful morning was hiding out there. I have become a firm believer in contrasts. If the last few weeks had been beautiful, then yesterday would have been nothing special. But it was spectacularly special. The light glided through the fall leaves and infused the air with energy. I felt the need to beautify. So I grabbed my kitchen shears, a charming basket, and took off down the street to the vacant lot--always ready to share it's bounty--and came home with a few fall offerings. I have to confess to reading a few design blogs and magazines lately, so it just seemed appropriate to photograph my gleanings in a want-to-be artistic fashion.

I grabbed a few flea market containers and started my very own kitchen renewal project. I really like photograpy because just looking at this picture, you would never know that there were ramen bits and dirty dishes and crumbs just inches away from this idealized creation. Aaaahhhh. I think Martha Stewart would approve. Not that I care for her approval. Is she even cool anymore? It is amazing what some sunshine and a few berries can do for the spirits.

P.S. Benjamin informed me approximately 30 minutes after this picture was taken that there were caterpillars crawling across my windowsill. Hhhhmmmm.

Smell Memory

I decided to boil some yarn tonight. Don’t ask. Or if you do, make sure you really want to hear the answer. I tend to do strange things when David travels. Anyway, I was boiling this beautiful peacock blue wool yarn and I happened to lean over the pan and sniff. I was immediately transported to Aunt Naomi’s cabin the Pennsylvania mountains. The wool smelled exactly like waking up on a chilly morning on the ancient brown fold down couch which Dave once described as more of a bun than a bed, partially smothered in musty down pillows and threadbare quilts. It smelled like the creaky floor and the wood burning stove and the pump out back and 17 cousins sitting around big table trying to figure out how to work the 1930’s electric toaster. It smelled just like my childhood, and for a minute—just a minute-- I was there. I was eight years old pulling daddy long legs off the screens and playing jacks on that creaky floor.
There is something about a smell memory that transports me like no other. Not pictures, not movies, not sitting around at family reunions confessing long guarded secrets. I don’t know why. It doesn’t happen very often, but it is the closest thing to time travel that I have ever experienced. Like the time I took my kids to Cabin John Park, the most fabulous playground of my childhood. I loved that the metal slide still looked 50 feet tall, that the little blue passenger train dutifully made its loop around the woods, and that Porky the Trash Eating Pig was still going strong, inviting children in that same chesty voice to feed him lots of paper and wrappers and even scraps, but please, no glass—it gives him a tummy ache. But it wasn’t until I pushed open the door of the little shop and breathed in the magical combination of snow cone and popcorn and cotton candy and old chewing gum and the anticipation of 30 years worth of children that I felt the time shift and I was a kid again, experiencing that smell for the very first time.
I wish it happened more often. There are lots of things I would love to live again. I guess I will just have to wait for the perfect scent to waft my way and carry me back in time. And I hope one day that I will be walking down some street in America, or trying a new recipe in my Texas kitchen and will somehow find the perfect smell that will transport me back to a misty fall morning, waiting for the fresh, hot waffles to be passed over the counter to warm my hands and make me glad for the years spent in Belgium.

Special Olympics

Way, way back, before vacations of all sorts, I had three kids in the Special Olympics. My kids are incredibly fortunate to have wonderful friends in the special education program at ISB. They really love these kids. Matthew, in fact, loves his friend Max so much that he was willing to set aside his sworn hatred of any movement brisker than a plod and actually run. I will interject here that Max hates to run too, so they made a pretty good team. Benjamin doesn't really love running, but he is darn good at it, and it is a good thing too because so is Creig.
Benjamin partnered Creig in the 1600 meter and they tore it up, coming in second place behind their team mates and friends.

The medals ceremony is a hoot, with lots of loud music, innovative outfits, and a rousing hip, hip, hip, hip, horray! in a rousing dutch accent.

Matthew and Max lined up on a grey, wet, Belgian Saturday morning...

with their team mates Anna and Mathilde...

And made great time on their race. So great in fact, that they each ran a personal best and surpassed their practice times by more than 3 minutes!

More hip, Hip, HIp, HIP, HORRAY! Way to go ISB!

Life doesn't get much better than this-