Shake, Battle, and Roll

This story took place nearly eleven years ago. If we talk often, you've probably heard it before, but for me, this one never gets old so I wanted to share it here.

After Christmas break my freshman year of college, I came back to find I had been assigned a new roommate - Lara - and would no longer be living alone. It would take me hours and hours to explain how it happened, but against all reason and all my expectations, this bubbly former-sorority-girl and I became BFFs within a year.

One afternoon, we were sitting around our room chatting when my dad called and asked if we wanted to go to a reenactment of the Battle of Aiken. I was in the middle of declining when Lara, the kind of Southern girl who could make Scarlett go green, picked up the other end of the Swatch twin phone and declared that we would LOVE to go. This was how I ended up cold and cranky and trudging through mud at seven in the morning just a few days later. In contrast to my crabbiness, Lara was downright jubilant, skipping ahead of me and then doubling back to breathlessly report on what she had just seen. "Oh look, a rabbit purse - I want that! Hey, sassafras soda - I want that! Look, a petticoat - I want one!"

A few minutes later, she interrupted her recitation to grab my arm and drag me away from my parents, dramatically explaining that she needed a cigarette but that good Southern girls don't smoke in front of parents. As my mom and dad continued on, Lara and I cut through several tents and she fished around in her over-sized purse for a cigarette. "The ground is jumping," she calmly announced as she searched for her lighter. She stopped to light her cigarette as I continued on, expecting her to catch up just a moment later. It took me about four steps to notice she hadn't, so I turned to see what was holding her up. Lara stood still, her lit cigarette clutched loosely in her fingers and halfway to her mouth. I noticed she was making a weird face - one eye was bigger than the other and one side of her mouth drooped down. Assuming she was making fun of some hapless Aikenite, I giggled and turned to see who her target was. I turned back just as she stiffened and headed for the dirt. Somehow, I got to her before the ground did and grabbed her as she fell, dragging us both down into the mud. Once on the ground, Lara stretched to her full five-and-a-half-foot length before balling up and violently twitching her way through the first grande mal seizure I ever witnessed. Not knowing what to do, I crouched over her and tried to hold her down while screaming at her to stop as she spit blood and foam.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up as a tall and hugely bearded man dressed in gray pulled me off of her. A shorter but equally-well-bearded man dressed in blue blocked my view of Lara and the two went to work on her. Nearby, a woman in a hoop-skirted-dress pulled a cell phone from her bodice and called 911. My parents showed up just a moment later, drawn to the crowd. I ran to them, screaming that Lara was dying, because what other explanation could there be. I'm pretty sure that seizure remains the scariest thing I've ever seen.

A few seconds later, the seizure was over and Lara's eyes were slowly coming back into focus. As the haze cleared from her brain, one of the two men crouched over her asked, "Do you know where you are, honey?" Lara looked, wide-eyed from one bearded face to the other before bursting into tears. "I don't even know WHEN I am." (A love of Southern history and a vague belief in reincarnation are a bad, but entertaining, combination.)

A four-wheeler pulled up and the men got Lara and I loaded on the back, as she didn't want to go without me. At the front gate, she was loaded into an ambulance, but again refused to go until she talked to me. Stepping into the ambulance, I leaned forward. "Get my fake ID out of my purse so they don't think I'm the wrong person," she whispered before laying back dramatically, possibly with her arm thrown across her forehead.

My parents and I followed the ambulance to the hospital, as I clutched Lara's purse in my hands and concentrated on not throwing up. We waited a little while before we got to go back to see her. Sitting in the hospital bed, flirting with the young doctor on duty, it was hard to believe this was the same girl who had been twitching and spitting foam just a couple of hours earlier. Feeling better, she was more concerned with getting her hair brushed and going to lunch.

Later that day, we left the hospital with a diagnosis of epilepsy and a bottle of extremely strong medication - Dilantin. The next day, I drove the two of us back to Berry as Lara sat next to me, bouncing along with each bump of the car. Her medication, before the dosage was dropped, made her feel "like a boneless chicken" (her words to a confused professor as she walked out on a philosophy class the next week.) Soon enough, though, we both got used to the changes, and months later she began to randomly make the seizure face to freak me out - her revenge for me making "dead hands" at her in the middle of the night. She also used the diagnosis as an excuse to make me drive us to Taco Bell and Waffle House in the middle of the night, hinting that if she went alone, she might seize and wreck the car - but I can't say that I really minded. More often, I imagine I was happy for the excuse to go for a snack.

Though scary and stressful, Lara's sense of humor and drama eventually turned the episode into a story we loved telling and I have to admit that the line, "I don't even know WHEN I am," still makes me laugh every time. There are many more bizarrely-charming Lara stories, but that's enough for one night. sweet dreams!

We spent over 200 francs and all we got was a stupid Twix

Well, a Twix and Steph's forgotten house key...

Let's rewind just a little bit... These things happen. We all forget things. Sometimes it's just less convenient than others.

The four of us arrived home from our mountain trip a little past 5 in the evening on Sunday. (A full write-up of the trip is in the works...) I walked in the door, kicked off my shoes, tossed off my backpacks, hugged Chris and settled in for a night of laziness...three minutes later the phone rang - Steph calling to say they couldn't find their house key in their suitcases and asking if they could drop by our place to dig through their bags in comfort. Naturally, we agreed. When I opened the door to two stony faces minutes later, I knew the fate of the key as well as they did, though they insisted on searching anyway. No key. Chris and Dani retreated to the back porch with whiskeys in hand as Steph began making phone calls. Could her apartment concierge help? Nope, no master key. What about a spare key left with friends or family? Nope, no spare key either. This meant two keys were locked in their apartment and one was locked in a mountain chalet that would be uninhabited until mid-October.

So what were the options? Break in a door - expensive. Break in a window - cheaper but still pricey. Skip a day of work and spend eight or nine hours on trains, roundtrip, to retrieve the key in person? That's it - the only option that would work. Thus decided, we grabbed Chinese take-out and all settled into bed (and guestbed) for the night.

The next morning Steph and I got up at six to be ready to head out the door for the seven AM train (160CHF for both) - I was going along to provide moral support and lunch company. The biggest bonus of leaving at this hour was that we would only have to change trains twice on the trip as opposed to our five changes on the way home. We grabbed a couple little pastries and sandwiches as well as a big jug of mint iced tea and caught an absolutely packed train to Bern. In Bern we changed to an equally crowded train to Domodossola where we caught an emptier train to Verdasio. The train to Verdasio turned out to be a panoramic train, so we had to pay a 4 CHF surcharge (8CHF for both) to sit in a train with window that went all the way to the ceiling - something that would have been much more enjoyable had the other occupants of the train not chosen to promptly pull their sun shades down, blocking the view. Once at Verdasio, we took the Funicar cabin thingies to the top of the mountain (27CHF). By this point it was just past 11 in the morning and we had been awake for five hours. Once there, the house was only a 15 minute walk. We arrived and opened the door. Steph stopped long enough to de-boot before running upstairs to look for the key - there it sat, right on the narrow shelf it had been left on. Thusly reunited, we took a brief photo op to celebrate the moment before shedding our unnecessary belongings to go for a nice little walk before lunch. The next train didn't leave until 2:30 and there was no sense in us not taking advantage of the gorgeous weather. We walked for about 45 minutes and then headed to our familiar grotto for lunch (65CHF because we forgot to check our total - whoops!) . Steph had a huge bowl of minestrone while I enjoyed what looked like roughly a week's supply of pasta bolognese. We sat outside as we sipped ice tea and ate lunch, enjoying the breeze. Around us, six or eight retired couples out for a day in the sun munched risotto and sipped wine. I kept a constant eye on people's shoes, making note of how many were wearing hiking boots and how many in sneakers. Since I got my own boots, I'm now obsessed with this.

Soon enough it was time to head back home. Before we left, Steph grabbed a Twix from the restaurant and I bought a jar of mountain honey for our neighbors. In the yellow cabin thingie on the way back down the mountain, we got a sever case of the giggles over the idea that maybe we made the trip just to buy a Twix, hence the title. Back in Verdasio, we caught the panoramic heading back homeward (or other-train-station-wards more likely) we were probably the only people under fifty. Apparently when you retire in Switzerland, you go for long lunches in the mountains and take panoramic trains, because everywhere we look it's socks and sandals and heads covered in white hair - I love it!

An hour later we changed trains in Brig to catch train number four to Bern, where we'll catch train number five to Fribourg. Another packed train - I was really surprised at the number of people traveling during a business day. As an added bonus, this was the fourth time passport control walked right by us. By this point, we had been in and out of Italy twice on Monday and four times this week. The train stank of burning brakes and, faintly, of people. It made me really miss the 'normal' Swiss trains.

Despite the annoyance of having to go back for the key, we actually had a pretty good day full of conversation and laughter, though the last thirty minutes to Fribourg were among the longest in my life. As a final note, after four days of hiking and riding trains, I'm completely sick of smelling people.

Hikes hikes, baby...

This was the kind of weekend that makes the thought of moving away from here almost impossible to contemplate.

On Saturday, Mr K and I headed to Vevey for the Street Artists Festival - mimes and clowns and magicians, oh my! I have to be honest - it was nice, but this festival didn't quite stand up to either the yodeling festival or the barrel organ festival. This one was just a bit too organized and crowded. We expected the performers to be spread throughout the city, but instead they took turns performing in set locations that we always arrived at far too late to get close enough to see anything. Still, the weather was gorgeous and it was nice to walk around a bit. (I was very impressed with the guy who managed to climb up and then back down a ladder he had balanced on a tightrope.)

Today, though, was just perfect. Steph and I headed out around ten in the morning (we left the husbands with their computers as is becoming our tradition.) We drove to nearby Schwarzee where we parked the car and hopped on a chair lift for my first chair lift ride - so much fun! Ten francs and minutes later, we were up high above the town. Steph pointed to a white dot of a chalet in the distance. "Our lunch destination." I clutched my tummy, my tiny ham sandwich from breakfast already half digested, and we started walking.

The sun was out but a nice breeze coupled with periods of walking in the shade kept us from getting too hot. The walk went surprisingly fast - we made it to the chalet in just under two hours. Upon arrival, our first goal was to secure a table in the shade. Moments later, the owner of the chalet, a charming old man with a pipe in his mouth and white hair to his shoulders, came out and greeted us warmly. Steph asked him what was for lunch (sausages or cheese) and we both decided on sausages and iced tea. Our lunch appeared a few minutes later - two still-sizzling sausages each along with a couple tomato wedges, some mustard (served in 12 gram packets), and a basket of tasty bread. The sausage were studded with whole cumin seeds and cooked perfectly, with a slight crunch to the skin - I was in food-heaven.

After we finished our lunches, we continued to sit as we sipped our tea. Another couple arrived with their St Bernard. After ordering two beers, the couple settled at a nearby table and the dog flopped down underneath it. I got a laugh when the woman pulled a bottle from her backpack and poured some liquid into the table's ashtray (after checking to be sure it was clean, of course) which she placed in front of the dog. I giggled because I just saw this out of the corner of my eye and I would have sworn she poured beer into the ashtray until I saw the water bottle make a second appearance. Hydrated and fed, we paid our bill (8.50 CHF each for lunch and drink - so cheap) and headed back down the last stretch of hill - the last really steep and small-pebble-covered stretch of hill.

This last hill was the important one. Part of our goal for today's walk was to put my new hiking boots to the test before our weekend hiking trip early next month. Well, I'm proud to say that after 17884 blister-free steps (or 8.45 miles) they passed the test!

Once we reached the bottom of the hill, however, our day was still far from over. We changed back into our sandals and threw our boots in the trunk of the car before heading back to go for a ride on the SUMMER TOBOGGAN RUN! It was way too much fun for words and I can't wait to go again. After our ride, we grabbed cold drinks and sipped them while we soaked our feet in the lake for thirty minutes or so before heading home.

Just when I thought my day couldn't get better, when I got home I remembered the kilo of IKEA meatballs in the freezer! Less than half an hour later, Mr K and I were chowing down on a dinner of meatballs in sauce on noodles with lingonberry preserves on the side. We topped the evening off with a little dvd watching and now, slightly sunburned and thoroughly tired, I'm ready to head to bed. What did you do this weekend?

Caution - mushy ahead

Happy anniversary, mom and dad!

I just thought I would take this opportunity to say thanks for everything you've done and for the amazing influence you've been! When I was younger, I used to always say I would never get married and a large part of this was due to my observations of my parents' marriage. I know kids say that kind of thing all the time, but the difference is most people say it because they come from broken or unhappy homes. I said it because my parents have always had such a solid and loving relationship. Up until a few years ago I had never experienced anything that would compare, and as a result and I wasn't going to settle, hence the "never get married." I did finally meet the perfect person for me, as we all know, but this post isn't about me - it's about my family.

I can only remember one fight my parents had during my childhood and I feel so very very fortunate to be able to say that (I should add that by dinner time everyone was reconciled and laughing about it). Instead of arguments, my memory is full of images of my parents holding hands, laughing and joking, and being visibly in love. Growing up, I remember after dinner, after first taking care of my sister and I, mom and dad would go into the living room to watch the news and have "grownup time." They would sit together on the couch, mom's feet in dad's lap. As a kid, I had a vague notion that this time as important to them even though I couldn't understand why, but until I got married, I never understood how important or how special.

Thank you for always finding the time for Katie and I, but thank you also for always finding the time for each other. I couldn't ask for better parents or for better examples of what a happy marriage can be!

...but there were NO MONKEYS

On Saturday, Mr K and I returned to Thun for the "International Barrel Organ Festival." First, and most importantly, there were no monkeys. Zero. Well, unless you count the vast army of stuffed toy monkeys that most of the organs were festooned with. Of course we were disappointed, but the sight of a ferris wheel looming over the river cheered us up considerably. Mr K has recently fitted me out with my own camera - he was doubtless getting sick of my "hey come takes pictures of this, hey can we look at the pictures, hey can you hurry and edit them so I can put them in my blog, hey how do you make a magnet, hey can you take a picture of the cats right now" etc - you get the general idea. So there I was, in gorgeous Thun, snap-snap-snapping away with my very own camera and camera bag and memory card and cleaning wipe with a kitteh on it - so nice! I digress...

So first things first, we popped in line to buy two tickets for the ferris wheel - this turned out to be easily the best 10 CHF we spent that day - the view couldn't be beat. I mean, wow. Mr K used his fancy-pantsy camera to make a swanky high-def video of one turn around the wheel - you can watch it on Youtube. I love the way at first you only hear the wind and then the organ music comes sneaking in, followed by some crowd noise and then back to the wind - I could watch that video on a loop all day.

The barrel organs were really interesting - neither of us could remember ever seeing or hearing one in person before - they're oddly beautiful and much more complicated than I imagined. Most of the players were dressed in different old-fashioned-looking styles, ranging from the very complex to those who just added a straw or top hat to a normal outfit. One of the highlights of the day was a mini-concert three organists performed together - again see Youtube for the high-def video. The music was so wonderful and sweet.

When not snap-snap-snapping or list-list-listening, we spent our time snacking, naturally. We started the day with tasty pretzels (one poppy seed and one with raclette cheese) and then later moved on to a chocolate covered banana, a real-sugar-Coke, a beer for Mr K, and whatever else looked good at the time. It was nice, but these people should really visit Texas to get an idea of what amazing stuff fair food can be! (We were slightly disappointed that the chocolate covered banana stand was not a frozen chocolate covered banana stand - I've heard there's always money in that kind of thing.)

Anyway, the festival was charming and we had a great time. This weekend, a barbeque with friends and relaxing because the calendar's looking pretty full for the next six weeks!

One little big step

As you've probably gathered from my overly wordy blog, I like to write. Recently, I signed up for a six-week-long creative writing class from UCLA Extension. While I've participated in NaNoWriMo multiple times in the past, signing up for this class marks my first formal foray into creative writing. My big problem is, though I love to write, I am terrified of letting other people read anything I've done. In an effort to "do better," I'm going to post my first exercise from my class here and you're welcome to (gulp gasp) let me know what you think. Depending on how this goes, I may post more in the future. Our first assignment was "show, don't tell" and here's what I submitted:

The tabletop fan sat motionless, the newspapers in front of it unrustled. Of all the things to miss, it was the silence of the newspapers that was getting to him. Henry Midfield huffed in annoyance - this slight movement sent his glasses slip-sliding down the sweat of his nose where he caught them and shoved them back into place without noticing. The ice in his drink had long since melted and, next to his chair, the papers that needed grading sat untouched.

Across the room, the TV and radio stared mutely at him, their power buttons black and beady, like the eyes of frogs caught in the porch light. The silence sneaking in from the kitchen only made him more aware of how he had grown used to the hum and chatter of hard-working appliances.

At first the silence had been a pleasant novelty – something about which one could make small talk with neighbors and overly chatty cashiers. Now, though, in its third day, the silence seemed to be hanging back, an injured animal planning its revenge and it was making everyone just a little more unpleasant than usual.

Outside, the neighbor's children were sullenly splashing in a muddy looking wading pool. Sunset was approaching. Normally it was about this time that Henry uttered his first curse of the day, directed at but never spoken to the neighbor who installed a floodlight on his garage that burned through Henry's kitchen window, marring the pleasant banality that should have marked his post-dinner washing up. Today there was no floodlight and no washing up – two more things he never expected to miss.

He swayed up from his damp chair in the living room and waded through the humidity into his kitchen. The room felt cramped and the faded blue plastic cooler set directly in front of the refrigerator only made the room seem smaller. The cooler, like some scratched-up modern-day treasure chest, held the last of the food he had been able to rescue from the refrigerator – none of which was even remotely appetizing at this point.

Lurching back to his chair, Henry sat down and placed a cigarette between his lips, but didn't light it – even that flash of fire would be too much. The ashtray next to his chair was nearly overflowing with unlit but well-gummed Marlboros – the sight of it made him sick. Henry wiped the sweat from his forehead and, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, flicked his lighter and inhaled.

Why yes, it is time!