guess who's eight?

This whole crazy adventure I am in right now all began the day I changed my last name to Koot, but I like to think the true insanity didn't come to full brilliance until our firstborn entered the picture. Yes, Lara, whenever you read this, it is true that the real madness started with you.

Suddenly, when you came in the picture, we had to deal with all new things such as: involuntary sleep deprivation, healthy food, advice from the experienced (read: everyone), excruciating pain (mommy a little more than daddy...), a sudden desire to put bows and pink and polka dots and cotton candy and cupcakes on everything to do with you, and schedules. Oh the schedules. Every single time we got used to one, you'd make sure you slipped happily into a completely different one, confusing and frustrating the dickens out of us. But we loved it, honest we did. We're just really happy you are now at the age where you can feed yourself. More or less.

And what did you go and do just when we were getting used to you being 7? You turned eight. EIGHT! And to prove that you can still bring your fair share of crazy to the Koot table, you made sure you had your 8th Birthday in an all new house, in an all new city, in an all new country. But you know what, my silly little girl? I love your craziness more than I love sunshine. 

Happy (late) 8th Birthday Lara!

On a jetplane

Finally I'm getting my photos uploaded and edited! First of all, here are the pictures to go with our travel story. The day we left looked like this:

The last get-togethers with close family and friends:

And finally, the big day. Being waved off at 6am, goodbyes at the airport, and that long, long, long flight.

... but finally, after all the ear aches, walks down the aisle (of the unromantic variety), droopy chicken dinners, cat naps, and lots and lots of Dean Koontz... we were suddenly there. I love flying into big cities at night, with all the lights. It really feels like coming home to a born and bred city slicker such as myself. For some reason I only have one picture of us at SLC airport, so here you go. Oh, and many, many more photos are ready and will be uploaded with their accompanying stories soon. Some of them are real whoppers.

new year, new music

Duh! It doesn't matter where I live or what language I speak on a day-to-day basis. All that matters is that I have plenty of ice cream music. Ready if you are!

1. Wild Flag - Romance



2. Seeker Lover Keeper - Even Though I'm A Woman



3. Maximum Balloon - Absence of Light



4. Hem - Sailor



5. Richard Hawley - Darlin'



6. Slow Magic - Moonsong

So, December 31st has always been something of a scary day for me. Especially that last week of the year I would always get this feeling of dread and I felt like I needed to be doing something bigger and more meaningful. Usually I would just end up sitting in my bedroom, gazing out at the fireworks, feeling melancholy. Melancholy is one of those feelings I really excell at. I wouldn't be sad, mind you. I would sit up there, all alone, feeling wonderfully weighed down. I felt that those moments defined me, and they still do.

Despite that heaviness that permeated everything on New Year's Eve, I also always remember a wonderful anticipation, and excitement for things ahead. You know, the feelings you're supposed to have at the start of something new and pregnant with possibility (no, that wasn't a hint of any sort). Also I must admit that the fun moments that are inherent to New Year's, the games and copious amounts of ridiculous sounding foods -appelflappen and oil balls anyone?- tend to 'lighten my load'.

So, there you pretty much have me in a nutshell: I am a big ole happy loner, but only when I have plenty of friends and family at my disposition. I love feeling nostalgia, melancholy, dread... but only when I have something beautiful to look at, and fattening to eat.

New Year's Eve to me is watching Den Haag explode into reds, blues, sparkly whites, greens, purples and bright yellows. It is bonfires on every corner, greeting each other in the street while trying to keep from catching flame. It is ham rolls, deepfried dough, and fancy juice poured in crystal glasses. It's games, movies, and pretending you're not tired. It's being woken up just before midnight to come witness the big moment together with my parents. It's cabaret and trying to get through to loved ones on the phone. It's reflecting, brooding, wishing and writing in my journal. But most of all, what struck me especially this year, is that it's the still being there. Nowhere where i may have wished or hoped or thought I would ever be, but right smack in the middle of the wonderful life nonetheless.

Of course after this new year's, I can add toilet plunging (elbow deep, people) and the killing-by-neglet of small defenseless animals. Neither my fault, might I add. One is the fault of a certain pregnant sister of mine, the other could have well been prevented by my 'little' brother. I leave it a mystery for you to solve who belongs to which...

Happy New Year to all! And Goldie, may you rest in peace in the eternal sewers.