a new year...

...and a very happy one thus far at that! Ok so, it's only been 23 hours since 2014 reared its head, but I don't think it's too early to say that I have a feeling this is going to be a darn good one. Not too early at all. We rang in the New Year with loved ones, some very intense games of Pictionary, appelflappen, sparklers, and even a loud and bright piece of firework that Sander was beyond thrilled to light. He was missing Holland an awful lot this new year's eve. Something that the Dutch radio station 3FM apparently picked up on, when they called him up and had him explain on the air what it was about Holland that made him homesick during new year's. Being on the radio lifted his spirits quite a bit, finding out he was pretty darn good at Scattergories brightened his mood further, and lighting his firework finally sealed the deal. For me it's different. I miss Holland a great deal but it hardly ever seems to overshadow the happiness of living here. And funnily enough that sentiment was the same when the tables were turned and I was perfectly content living in Holland whilst missing my family aplenty. I suspect growing up with ADD has taught me to live in the moment, since my brain often times simply couldn't handle the thought of tomorrow. Or that of 2 hours later for that matter! And remembering yesterday (or 2 hours ago, sigh) regularly seemed equally impossible. More importantly, if there is anything I know with total certainty, it's that when I make a change in life that I know God wants me to make only good will come of it, and I will have absolutely nothing to fear. So while I have plenty of blue days, rough moments, and temporary fits of blind rage (usually when someone finishes the Jell-O salad before I can get to it for a third helping), sadness over not living in Holland anymore is generally not the cause of these downs. We took a drive to Antelope Island today for our first activity of 2014, and that calm and content feeling was once again underscored there as I watched my children's cheeks grow rosy from the cold air and their faces smiley from their feet sinking into the snow so deep the insides of their boots got a little wet. We walked together, and marveled at the sheer magnificence that surrounds us so nearby. No, I am not melancholy this year.

I feel this new year will be the sunniest year yet.

p.s. Max isn't in any of the pictures because he has been a little sick the past couple of days so we figured it would be best if he wasn't subjected to the elements just yet. He's getting better every day though :)

things that need to be said about my sister

Today is Marissa's Birthday! Marissa is my 'little' sister - we are 22 months 

apart. I sometimes feel bad for her for having me as her older sister. I haven't exactly always been the most amazing example when it comes to making good 

decisions. Then there's also the fact that we found out pretty early on that we 

are two very, very different people. Especially when we were teenagers we found we had different tastes, opinions, attitudes, tempers, and priorities. I think 

on the major issues in life we saw eye to eye, but we simply had incredibly different ways of going about things. I am convinced that on many levels her 

ways were the better ways, and so she became a role model to me in times

I should have probably been one to her. I actually wrote a poem about us 

once that I've never shown anyone, called "Day and Night". In it she is very 

clearly the day, and I am represented by the night.

That said, I have so many fun and happy memories of growing up with Marissa! I remember so many times we would crawl into bed together despite having separate bedrooms, and talking/laughing/keeping each other company until we fell asleep. She would come and confide in me about boys (not many, mind you! I was the boy crazy one) and I loved hearing her stories and going over her questions with her. We would make music together - harmonizing, playing quatre-mains on the piano, performing pieces in church and (mostly) during family occasions. She is an incredibly talented musician and in my opinion never gives herself enough credit for it. I remember giving her makeovers and picking outfits for her. I was always so jealous of her gorgeous figure and beautiful long piano fingers!

When we were in South Carolina for a while, going to High School there, she was nothing short of my saving grace. I had such a rough time there and she was the only person I felt loved and accepted around. I know I made things extra hard on her during that time when she just wanted to experience new things and have me at her side, and I'll forever be sorry for that. But I am so grateful I had her then.

Then we grew up. I met Sander, and she instantly loved and accepted him as part of our family. Little by little we began to figure out that we were so much less different than we thought. That's when life decided to physically separate us, when we were finally coming together emotionally and spiritually. I got married and settled with Sander in The Hague, she went to school in Utah. I started having children, and she went on a mission. I had some more kids and became more rooted in our life in Holland, and she found love and settled, in the USA. We weren't around each other to see what kind of mothers we were, and be the support for each other I know we could have been had we been closer.

Despite that distance, or maybe thanks to that distance, we grew very close in heart. I came to miss my baby sister so very much. There were times when I felt so lonely and just wished and prayed that somehow I could have her around. There were times when I knew she was having difficult times and it frustrated me so much to know how much help and support I could be to her, but not be able to give it to her the way I wanted to. Then just over 1.5 years ago, we were finally brought together again, and that reunion has been such a tender and sweet one for me!

Marissa, our years apart have made me forget every single one of the things that make us different. I look at you now and see such a beautiful, strong woman. I am nothing but proud of you! You are my friend, as well as my sister. You are a truly fantastic mother to your children and I don't tell you often enough how much you teach me about motherhood. I can not even remember the last time we fought, and I know we'll be able to keep it that way. That makes so happy. I don't know if I can find the words needed to convey what you mean to me. Just know that I love you with all my heart, and I could never want for a better sister than you. Have a beautiful Birthday, you beautiful girl!

disgustingly happy

Look, I don't mean to make you horrendously jealous but it is now 9:45am and I am sat on my front porch, in the warm sun, with my laptop on -surprise!- my lap. Max and Elliot have each mounted one of our many plastic, wheeled contraptions and are happily scooting around our cul-de-sac as I listen to their delighted squeals and the various birds singing my welcome to this day.

Life, as it turns out, is good!

I try to be wary of portraying our lives as a constant flow of smiles and rainbows because it's just not like that. Right now though, I am in the lucky position to be able to tell you that that is honestly how it is for us. Sure we have some worries and things that force us back into a more balanced thought of 'oh yeah, the world wasn't created with the sole purpose to bring the Koots happiness.' I mean, our basement got flooded the day after we put in new carpet. The guys who are placing a fence around our yard to keep our kiddies safe basically murdered our sprinkler system in 4 different places, costing us a significant extra amount of moulah. Our old health insurance company is trying to fine us for thousands of Euros because supposedly we weren't insured for a couple of months, while we have shown them over and over again that we were at that time completely insured here in the US. And on top of that we still really, really miss our beloved Holland and the wonderful people we left behind along with it. So I suppose there is plenty for us to worry about and feel stress over. I'm not sure whether it's the peace of knowing we are on the right track in life, or the beauty of our current surroundings, or the slowed pace of summer vacation. Most likely it's all of those elements combined that have been working towards us being possibly the happiest we have ever been. So again, sorry if this post is making you feel like puking, or perhaps like slowly and methodically torturing me until I'm a little less freakin' happy... but this is just how it is and I can't keep it to myself! Pictures are of some of the scenery found in our back yard. You know the one. That yard that is the most intimidating part of this house for me. That one that broke two lawn mowers since we moved in and took a full week of work to get into somewhat reasonable shape. Yeah, I guess it's also kind of pretty.

journals Vs. blogs

 

Julia, May 2007, at the Ot & Sien Speeltuin in the Zuiderpark in The Hague 

Blogging might be a modern, quite recent development in history but it's not a very surprising one now is it? Why? Well, humans have been avid journal keepers, recorders of history for, uhm, all of history. I started keeping a journal when I was 8 years old, because I was given a journal on November 25th 1989, the day I was baptized into the Mormon Church. Both my parents and my aunt Sia gifted me a hardcover, square diary, with a lock and clear white pages, ready to be filled with everything that is important in the life of an 8-year-old girl. I mainly wrote about food. 

Since that first diary journal diary - ok which is it?! Quick moment of google research. Wikipedia says the following:

"A diary is a record (originally in handwritten format) with discrete entries arranged by date reporting on what has happened over the course of a day or other period. A personal diary may include a person's experiences, and/or thoughts or feelings, including comment on current events outside the writer's direct experience. Someone who keeps a diary is known as a diarist. Diaries undertaken for institutional purposes play a role in many aspects of human civilization, including government records (e.g., Hansard), business ledgers and military records.

Generally the term is today employed for personal diaries, normally intended to remain private or to have a limited circulation amongst friends or relatives. The word "journal" may be sometimes used for "diary," but generally a diary has (or intends to have) daily entries, whereas journal-writing can be less frequent." (italics added)

Definitely a journal then! So, since that first journal I have filled an impressive stack of them with mainly unimpressive entries. There have been many ups and downs, plenty of periods where due to laziness/a lack of creativity/poor memory I didn't write for months on end. But I kept finding new motivation to do better at keeping a regular journal. Often this motivation came from church and seeing girls slightly older than me, who I aspired to be like, keeping a journal. One day I visited Anne Frank's hiding place (het achterhuis) in Amsterdam and subsequently read her journal. I promptly christened my journal 'Kitty' and would dutifully start each entrance with 'Dear Kitty,'. Cringe!

Finally my motivation became the therapeutic essence of writing down my thoughts and feelings, and reading my old journals and realizing how valuable they had become to me. To anyone else they are most likely filled to the brim with the worst boring drivel imaginable, but to me they are full of precious moments that would have otherwise been forgotten. I read and can actually picture lively scenes, feel things I felt when I was 13, relearn lessons, and see previously overlooked connections and blessings. There are also entries that have been ripped out since they were written because they were so embarrassing in hindsight that the thought of anybody (especially my children) ever reading them was just too much to handle! I think Liz has an idea what I'm talking about. We had a good night of belly-splitting laughter thanks to one of my journals.

I have employed many methods of journaling over the past. I have kept a gratitude journal, an art journal, a photo journal. I have set myself weekly writing challenges, I have let others set me weekly challenges. I have recorded quotes I like such as "Those who do not keep journals, will be defined by those who do.", and I have made live notes/transcripts of important moments such as baby blessings. I have pasted envelopes into the back of my journals to hold important bits of my history, such as my first concert ticket, my first love note from a boy, and, embarrassingly, receipts of epic meals I enjoyed. Finally my eyes were opened to the wonderful world of Moleskine and I started buying my journals with the pocket envelopes already in them.

You can see how turning to blogging is something of a natural development for me. Sure my entries are less self-indulgent and more geared towards recording family moments for those parts of our families who live far away. It has also become a tool to share creative endeavors and open up conversation with readers on topics that interest me. Conversations that might otherwise have never happened, because I am in essence something of an introvert. Blogging has come to be such a fun and important part of my life and I am so happy to have always had the tools to be able to keep it up. The encouragement I get is also a truly amazing thing. Thank you to everyone who has commented positively in any way! Thank you also for any constructive criticism you have given me over the past years. Without this blog I would have not been as motivated to put more effort into photography. I would not have learned there are surprising friends who share interests and viewpoints with me. I would not have had such a delightful visual history of my children because, let's face it, I'm horrible at making photo albums!

I love journaling. I love blogging too. I also love reading blogs, so please send me yours, or keep posting your entries on Facebook!

Finally, on the off chance this has motivated you to get started with a journal, here are some tips from a girl who has almost tried them all:

1. Hard Bound Journals Only. This is a must! You want your journals to withstand the test of time and paperbacks simply do not deal well with repeatedly being thumbed through, tossed in handbags/backpacks, being forgotten under beds, boxed, spilled on, and chewed by rabbits. 

2. When possible, write in pen. This goes with the previous tip. Ink doesn't fade as easily as pencil does. 

3. Get artistic. Use markers, print photos, use fun washi tape, make drawings. You don't have to be naturally creative to do this. And you don't always have to do this either! Don't make it a job, and thereby a drag. Just have a stash of creative tools on had for when you feel inspired. You'll be surprised at what you come up with!

4. Try different writing styles. I have journal entries in the form of letters to an imaginary friend and in the form of prayers. One day I read about free writing and just put my pen to the paper and did. not. stop. writing for a full 15 minutes any and all things that randomly popped up into my brain. You could do a series of entries where you record only facts. Or only opinions. You could write poetry, or turn your entry into a third person short story. I like writing in bullet form when I feel I have a lot to catch up on.

5. Don't just write down the date, write down the actual day, and time. I can't tell you how many times I have gone back in my journals, started reading an entry, and ended up having to do research as to whether I had written the entry on a Sunday or a Thursday. That might not be interesting to all, but I have found it something I care about. Also, times can help, especially when you have several entries in one day! Anyone who has read Bridget Jones' Diary will understand.

6. Hold on to shopping lists/photos/special receipts/postcards/etc. Either glue them onto the pages, or collect them in a pouch/envelope in the back of your journal. They will become so meaningful as time goes by!

7. Keep in mind your journal will most likely be read one day. One the one hand your journal should be the one place you can rage and rant in a completely unedited way. On the other hand remember that after you are gone your journal is going to be found and read, probably by those very people you have raged and ranted about. Or, if you have lived to be very old, their children. For some this won't mean any difference in how they write, but for me it has meant some slightly more subtle phrasing and, in some cases, omission. So unless you are James Bond and have been provided by Q with a fancy self-destroying journal that will obliterate your darkest secrets the very moment your heart stops beating, you might want to at least give your writing some thought.

8. Have others write entries. Some of pages in my journals that are most dear to me, have been filled by others. I have at times asked friends or people who made an impact in my life to write me a message in my journal. Sometimes these entries have become the only tangible memory I have of someone. I highly recommend it!

9. Daily writing challenges. These are good because they can break the monotony of writing. Usually I would take a challenge for a week, and record my daily experiences. Examples of challenges I like:

- 'Currently' lists. So whatever you are currently wearing, wanting, reading or listening to. Current weather conditions, news headlines, or your current state of mind.

- Daily quote + your own thoughts on said quote.

- Daily question. Think of a question that you must answer every day for a week. 

- Gratitude. Start each entry with a list of all the things you are particularly grateful for that day.

10. Describe things. This has been especially helpful to me as I notice my visual memory is not as good as I'd like it to be. I have in my journals descriptions of childhood bedrooms (to the tiniest details!), parks, hotel rooms, cars, outfits, cities, parks, etc etc. I have self made sketchy blueprints of classrooms and recorded routes I used to walk/bike/drive often and the things that stood out to me along the way. Very helpful to forming that mental image when reading later on in life. It also says so much more than a photograph, because it includes your experience of your surroundings.

I'm excited to see what future developments might mean more exciting possibilities for recording our own histories, and I'm excited to use them if they work for me. Thanks again for reading, whether it's just this post, or if you've been a faithful reader since I started this blog. Thank you!

the good, the iPad,

and the mountains. The mountains in Utah take my breath away, as I have lately been happily telling anyone who will listen. I have also been asking all kinds of people who have lived around these majestic natural occurrences for years and years, if it ever gets old. Could it be possible that there will come a day when I walk out the door, look up at their snow-covered tops, and think to myself '....'? I hope not. Every car ride is a pleasure thanks to the views. Views which, I might add, are ever changing in the different types of weather and times of day. On Tuesday night for instance, I made a discovery. As I was driving up the hill to attend a meeting in a house somewhere at the top of it, I looked up and saw that when you are going up that hill and the sky is clear, the moon peeks out over the edge near the top of the mountain, giving a sharp, eerily beautiful edge to its already impressive profile.

As for the good and the bad: Sander got his first paycheck and it was considerably more than we had hoped for, which was very, very good. Then I went to sit down on our bed (read: a mattress on the ground) and my knee hit our iPad that I had overlooked, and the screen made that horribly sickening cracking sound. So guess where the extra money is going?

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.

howdy folks, how y'all been?

I haven't forgotten the blog!! This is honestly the first chance I have to sit down without interruption, and with the presence of mind needed to write down all that needs writing down. It's back to list form, baby. Ready?

1. We had some lovely farewells the week before we left. I feel we were able to see most people we care about in person. Of course the highlight was when I attempted to sing 'Where Can I Turn For Peace' in church, as my goodbye to the people that basically helped raise me. To any who didn't know any better I was simply the pianist's page turner, because two words into the song, I became too choked up to get another note out. Luckily it was a nice piano arrangement!

2. We had a really fun Sinterklaas celebration together with my dad, and my mother and brother in law. Sinterklaas really had his thinking cap on this year when he decided to gift all the kids wonderful personalised backpacks, filled with toys, coloring books, lunch boxes, pencils and treats. That's the kind of present that makes parents happy!

3. Our big day of travel was quite eventful. The first 'event' occurred during check-in, when Sander realised he had left the car seat we needed on the plane, in the car. The car was in long term parking, a good half hour away - time we didn't have. Thank heavens for taxis. Sander and his brother made it back with time to spare, after I finished checking in.

And off we went. There were teary goodbyes when we got in line for customs, aka 'the point of no return'. After that it was just us, and the real journey began.

The first flight was fine, except for two things. You're expecting at least one of those things to be the kids, aren't you? Well, you're wrong. The kids behaved so well, it was wonderful. Sure, they were still kids, and had the occasional whine, but mostly they were angels. It helped that the plane was fitted with individual movie screens, which featured a wide range of all sorts of movies, cartoons, interactive games, and flight information.

So if not the kids, then what could have been the proverbial wet sand in our underwear? The first source was to be expected: other passengers. The somewhat elderly couple in front of Elliot and I had a fit when Elliot got tired 3 hours into the flight, and had to cry himself to sleep for about 20 minutes. We got the whole deal: angry looks, audible sighs, elbow punches against their seat backs, loud complaints to eachother, and finally.... The Confrontation. The woman, who appeared to be the man of the two, turned around and hissed: "You should really try to settle him down!". To which i replied: "Wow thank you, I can't believe I didnt't think of that myself!". After Elliot's nap I decided to do a precautionary seat switch, but there were still sighs and looks pretty much every time one of us spoke, or got up to use the restroom.

The second source of weird should have been very unexpected, but unfortunately I have come to expect it on the longer, intercontinental flights. I am talking about rude and annoying flight attendants. We were assigned to Mike. Mike found out, within minutes of take off, that we are Mormons. He then made a point of laughing at our faith every single time he came by. Comments like "Catholics are strange, but you guys take the crown", or "So when are you having your next kid", and "How many wives you got there, buddy?" were the milder ones. Isn't it their job description to make the passengers as possible as comfortable as possible? His only redeeming quality was how complimentary he was of our kids. He called them his best travellers ever (though I get the feeling there is a long string of 'best travellers ever' before them) and kept giving them extra treats and Wings pins. I still think he was weird though. But then, I'm a Mormon.

Upon landing in Detroit the real fun began, or so we thought. We were beyond nervous to go through customs with our emigration packages and visas. We anticipated it would take forever, while we tried to keep our exhausted, unruly children in check. Nothing was less true. There was no line to wait in. We were helped by three customs officers at once, and the whole process was incredibly painless. A nice lady who had offered to carry our carseat off the plane for us (she took pity on us when she saw we had the kids, 3 backpacks, a diaper bag, a stroller, 5 huge carry-ons, a bag of important documents, and my purse to haul), also made sure all of our bags were taken off the luggage belt, and lined up neatly for us to collect after customs. Bless her soul. An airport employee grabbed all our bags for us and showed us where to go while we didn't have to lift a thing. Again no line at security, and before we knew it we were 'in', with a couple of hours to spare to get to our next flight.

Time to relax! The second flight was much, much friendlier. Poor little Julia got a horrible ear-ache that woke her up (all the kids fell asleep 10 minutes into the flight). This time many pasengers came to our aid with kind words, bubble gum and drinks. The flight attendants were also very helpful, and before we knew it, we got her back to sleep. After that it was a breeze. When we started descending into SLC it didn't matter that we were all so very tired. The city lit up so beautifully in the dark night, and excitement grew in all of us. The walk to baggage claim was almost delirious with the relief that it was over. We went around that last corner, down the stairs, and there we were reunited with my mom, Marissa, Benson, Ella, Kate, Mike, Kylee and Jace. There was a 'Welcome Home' banner and everything! It was a very happy moment. So happy that we didn't even care that one of our bags (the one containing Elliot's stuff, I may have cared more if it had been my things...) hadn't made it to SLC. It ended up being delivered to our doorstep that same night, so no harm done at all.

It was still a 45 minute drive to my parent's house, and it was in that sleepy quiet, wedged between two carseats, gazing at the beautiful mountains, that I had a little moment of panic. Of course my emotions were out of whack due to exhaustion, so I didn't let it worry me, but it suddenly hit me that we left behind everything, forever. I let the tears come, and then sleep took over. I hardly remember the last portion of our journey halfway around the world.

4. We have been adjusting amazingly! We hardly suffered from jetlag at all, especially the kids did so well. I got all of our bags unpacked the first day, and we quickly realised we were going to be very comfortable during our stay in my parent's basement. The girls share a room that has been decorated to meet any little girl's needs. The boys share the master bedroom - we figured we had best keep them behind closed doors - Elliot in a travel cot and Max all alone in the big bed. Sander and I spent the first week on the foldout bed in the playroom whch features plenty of toys and books (Sander and I have been having so much fun each night). We have our very own bathroom and the shared laundry room is down here too. We have everything we need acoomodation wise, and more.

The girls started school on Thursday, Dec. 15th. Lara in 1st grade and Julia in Kindergarten, until their English gets a little better. They love it there and come home every day with a backpack full of artwork/simple homework assigments, lots of stories about all their new friends, and a smile on their faces.

Everyone's English is improving by the day (mine included) and we are loving the Utah friendliness. We've had our first snow, and plenty of trips to Walmart and Taco Bell. Last night we drove around the nearby neighborhoods to look at all the beautifully decorated homes. Some will nearly blind you, or cause an epileptic fit, but most evoked a reverent 'woooooooow' from the kids. They're so pretty.

5. During the one week Sander was here he had an interview lined up at a great company situated only 20 minutes from our house. It offered an amazing salary, good benefits, and the opportunity to get settled in a challenging position with a bright future. Unfortunately he wasn't the only applicant and, as everyone knows, the economy is such that jobs can be very hard to come by. Let alone great jobs like this one.

But he kept progressing after each interview, and other candidates kept getting eliminated.

The recruiter took us out to lunch just two days before Sander had to fly back to Holland, and told us that they CEO wanted him to come in that afternoon to talk to their HR department. She said this was an incredibly good sign, and that we had reason to be carefully optimistic. After that meeting, the CEO wanted to ask Sander just one last question. We were told he would call us the next day, so Sander spent the day glued to the phone. Come 6pm, there had still been no phonecall, and Sander had turned into a nervous wreck. He was flying back to Holland the next morning, and the outcome of this job application dictated whether he was saying goodbye to all of us for a few weeks, or possibly months and months. Finally, at 8.30pm, the phone rang. He took it downstairs. Mom and I were upstairs, so we couldn't hear what how the conversation was going, so we anxiously waited. After what seemed like an eternity, Sander came up the stairs, his hands lifted high in the air. Grinning widely he proclaimed "I got it!!", and we all cheered. We then spent the evening calling friends and family and marvelling at out luck. Yet again we see a miracle, and get to feel the affirmation that we made the absolute right decision by coming here.

So, Sander went back home feeling great, we were left behind feeling on top of the world, and everyone is gearing up for the Holidays! Speaking of Holidays....

6. Some Holiday traditions over here will take some getting used to. I don't think you will ever see me drinking eggnog. I doubt I will be going as far as some in stapling twenty million lights to my house so we can be the shiniest ones on the block (is it just me or is there a competitive factor at play there?). However, I am learning of one tradition that I can really sink my teeth into. Literally.

People around here make and bring around Christmas treats and small gifts to all their neighbors, usually wrapped in the cheeriest of Holiday wrappings, and accompanied by an uplifting note.

They are often home-baked. See where this is going?

Yeah, I spent most of last Tuesday baking chocolate fudge cupcakes, topped with a sour cream and cream cheese vanilla frosting swirl, and crushed candy cane sprinkled on top. THAT's when I realised I was home, people. We took them around our neighborhood, which enabled the kids and I to introduce ourselves. It even started snowing while we were out.

7. We are having so many laughs! Like the time a fiddle arrangement of 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen' came on the car radio, and mom said: "I really don't like this version of 'Oh Little Town Of Bethlehem'.". Or the day when mom had a melt down driving Marissa's kids home. I need to save that whole story for another blog post though, it's that good.

8. We got to see Lindsey and her mom! It was soooo good seeing that girl again, I have just missed her like crazy. We all went to Denny's for breakfast (where it apparently is a major faux-pas to order only waffles and sausages) and did some bigtime catching up. I can't stand that she' going back to Holland instead of staying here with/for me, but I try not to let that show. I guess I can understand my happiness isn't her top priority. Sort of.

9. Lara turned 8 last December 17th! We celebrated it the Sunday before so Sander could be there. We had the best time with all her cousins there to party with her. It really was very rewarding to see them all playing together while I was sat in the front room with my siblings, just hanging out and chatting. There was cake and balloons and a plethora of presents, and one very, very happy big little girl.

10. We miss everyone in Holland so much! This whole thing really is a bitter sweet deal. Though we will never regret coming here, I wouldn't dream of complaining when we have so much to be thankful for, and we face our future with positive attitudes, we really have to take a moment every day to come to terms with the part of us that is grieving. Lara misses Naomi and her oma most of all. Julia misses school the most. Max asks for opa Maarten regulary. And I am longing to sit down with my best friends, laugh, and go to the movies together. Not to mention how badly I miss my husband during this Christmas season!

Wow, I think that covers it. Please excuse the lack of photographic evidence of aforementioned adventures. I am typing all this on an iPad and haven't quite figured out how to attach pictures yet. Expect a photos-only blog next time. Which will be soon.

Promise.

hiatus

I just wanted to let whoever checks this place know that I'm still alive! (albeit barely...)

I doubt I need to explain why blogging hasn't been a top priority, but just in case I do, I've made a nice little list of good reasons just for you.

1. I have 4 children.
2. The holiday season is the busiest time of year
3. My 4 children, husband and myself are leaving behind the life we know and taking the big leap into the relative unknown and moving to Ogden, Utah, USA in no more than 5 days time.
4. I have 4 children.
5. The voices are telling me to do other things with my time.
6. I got a lovely case of strep throat last Tuesday night, during my last week in Holland, possibly the busiest week known to man this entire milennium. When the fever was still with me this morning we decided to go to the doctor. You know it's bad when a seasoned physician looks into your mouth and goes 'wow, that's gotta hurt'.
7. Badgers.

There you go. Seven solid reasons why you simply can't be mad at me for not supplying you with regular entertainment and updates on me and mine. That said, I'm here now, so please allow me to get you up to speed, again in handy list form!

1. The kids had a wonderful farewell party last Wednesday afternoon. Lots of their friends and their parents came, many brought beautiful pictures/photographs/small presents and much fun and play was had. It was a very good opportunity for them to have closure in a positive way. It's good to face sadness I think. The other night Lara couldn't sleep and came to us, teary eyed and runny nosed. She realised how much she's going to miss her friends and loved ones and I let her get in bed with me and we talked about every single person she thought she was going to miss. We then shared happy memories off all those people and a smile quickly came back to her face. I just held her and told her everything would be okay. She said 'I know mommy', and fell asleep less than a minute later. Oh to be a child...
2. We sold The Beast! I'll miss that thing... my thighs won't, but I will.
3. Sander and I got released from our callings in church (both in Sunday School), I gave a talk, we had a RS goodbye party where I handed over all of my most beloved recipes to my dear sisters in the ward, and our names have been taken off the home and visiting teaching lists.
4. Sinterklaas came to school on the same day the girls had their last day there. They came home with presents and more beautiful drawings and pictures from the children in their classes, and of course lots of stories about Zwarte Piet. BTW did you know there is a 'VliegPiet' who makes special deliveries for Sinterklaas all over the world?
5. We have been on the receiving end of some very special acts of kindness. While I've been ill the huge workload that would have been much even for two people, all came down on Sander's shoulders. A couple of angels have dropped by to lighten his load by folding mountains of laundry, sweeping floors, looking after the boys, picking the girls up from school, dusting and doing the dishes. To all of you who have helped: we love you, thank you so much for easing our burdens. We hope to be able to return the favour.
6. I have 4 children. Wait, which list was this one again?

I know I'm forgetting things (since I always have, and most likely always will) but these things stood out. So there you go readers, now get off my case already.

Aw just kidding, I love you guys! I'll be blogging more as soon as I can!

like, scary good

Do you have any idea the kind of crazy to-do lists you get when you're planning an emigration? It's consuming my life at the moment. In a scary good kind of way. Scary because I am sometimes so preoccupied I forget to shower, and good because... hmm.. how shall I put this. It's just kind of cathartic getting rid of most of your earthly posessions, packing up only that which matters most, and finding that you don't actually need that much to be happy.

We had our final interviews last week and got approved! Again it was like a guardian angel came along and made sure everything went as smoothly as possible. The guy working our case at the consulate even said 'Oh, I saw that you guys were coming in today so I prepared all the paperwork last night to make sure you and the kids wouldn't have to be here too long'. And we weren't. It took less than an hour to get the good news that all our hard work and all the money we've already spent on this hasn't been for nothing. Then upon coming home and getting ready to actually book the flight we had another nice surprise: The ticket prices had gone down with 160 EUR per ticket! 

Now, I just want to say something on my little platform here. I know there are some who are upset and sad about us leaving. Some are worried for us and some just think we are certifiably insane. Some have made up their minds as to our reasons for leaving and some have come to the wrong conclusions. I'm sure there's talk and that that talk is divided between good thoughts and well-wishing, and gossip and lies (let's hope it's very unevenly!). 

I just want to say how grateful I am to everybody who shows their love to us in any way - whether that is through excitement and being happy for us, or by being sad to see us go, or by worrying for us. We appreciate our friends and family and all other loved ones so much. It makes us not want to leave when we think about all of you. If there's anything we can do for anyone, before or after we move, please let us know. 

It's comforting to us to know we have many wonderful friends and family waiting for us 'on the other side'(the dark side, as I'm sure some would call it! ha) in the USA. I hope that can be a comfort to those of you who worry for us. I hope it will also be comforting to know that we know this is the right thing for us to be doing. Ever since we made the decision to do this it has been like the entire universe has moved to open the path for us to go. Miracles have taken place. It has been a very humbling experience for us, one that I am beyond grateful for. Another thing I am beyond grateful for is a strong marriage. After 10 years it feels like Sander and I are closer than ever. Because of that certainty we are hopeful instead of scared and positive instead of pessimistic. We'll be okay because of that alone.

Well! With all of that said, I thought I'd share some of my recent 'likes' on Youtube with you .

1. Charlene Soraia - Bike

2. Winter Coats - Windmill

3. Fanfarlo - The Walls Are Coming Down

4. Sleighbells - Riot Rhythm

5. I Break Horses - Wired

6. Steve Mason - All Come Down

death and Jesus

It's a theme when you have my genes. This of course goes for the most obvious interpretation of that: everyone in my family eventually dies, and many of us believe in Jesus.... but that's not what I'm getting at. I think it all began with my brother Mike, back when his voice was still high and we called him Mikey-boy (I stopped calling him that around the time he learned to kill a human in 7 different ways using only his small toe and a paperclip). 

On Mondays we would somewhat regularly have Family Home Evenings at our house. For those of you not familiar with the concept, here is an overview of what such an evening looked like:

1. Your dad gets out his recorder and makes you sing along to him playing it.

2. The family prays together (this is often when the younger family members try to make their escape since mom&dad are supposed to have their eyes closed. Never worked for me.)

3. The serious part. This can either consist of a small presentation/lesson prepared by any one of the family members on a subject they deem worthy of discussion, or it's a 'family council' where a new idea is proposed, discussed and voted on.

4. Game/activity time.

5. Refreshments.

Sometimes these evenings were were so torturesome I had to find my inner happy place to make it through, but most of the time it was a lot of fun spending time together as a family, learning from eachother, and building memories. The funnest part about these evenings was that everyone played an important part in them. Everyone would be in charge of one or more of the items listed above, and they responsibilities rotated so that you did something different each week. 

Well.

One week it was Mike's turn to take care of the serious part of the evening. I think he must have been around 8 or 9 at the time. He came up with the idea to teach us all about Christ's sacrifice for us and what we can learn from it. He worked hard at it: had visual aids, scriptural references, and a clear story outline. He even made a beautiful title board with a picture of Jesus on it and the title of his lesson. The title he gave his lesson was:

Jesus died from Michael.

Example two: Only a short while later, when we had the missionaries over for dinner one night, one of the elders was talking about his family at home and told us that he had one brother. My sister Marissa, without a second's hesitation, turned her head, looked him in the eye and asked: 'Is he dead??'.

Fast forward to present day and a little boy named Max. We took Max to get his medical examination in Amsterdam last week. Part of that exam was an eye check. The doctor made Max focus on a person in a photograph he had hanging on his wall. This person was walking in a field, surrounded by trees, holding a rifle and wearing a rain coat. When the check was finished and Max' vision was pronounced perfect, the doctor asked him 'Who is that person in the picture?', to which Max answered 'He has a gun. It's Jesus.' 

When I put Max down for his nap I always tuck him in tight, give him a kiss and a cuddle, and softly whisper into his ear that I love him. This always makes him smile, and want to whisper in my ear as well. Instead of whispering 'I love you mommy', he says 'I KILL YOU!', and happily rolls over to his side, signalling that I may now leave his room.

Then there is one final example. An example that was no doubt fueled by recent Halloween celebrations (see pictures below). Last night I took Max and Elliot up to their room, got their diapers on, and tucked them into their beds. A quick kiss for Elliot did the trick. Max needed a little more because he had become very worried that there were ghosts hiding in his room. We checked the room together to make sure there were no ghostly stow-aways, but still I could tell he wasn't quite reassured of his own safety. Suddenly his face lit up and he shared his idea with me. He asked for his toy gun and added the following words: 'If a ghost comes, I will just ask Jesus to come, and then I'll shoot Jesus dead with my gun, and the ghost will be so scared that it will stay away!'. 

I suppose it's my own fault for teaching my kids to use Jesus as an example.

Do you see what I'm talking about? Death and Jesus - it's a theme.

Anyway, here are the Halloween pictures. We had a great night baking sugar cookies, dressing up, going trick-or-treating around the neighborhood, and watching scary movies.

quick to forgive... and fall asleep

Mondays can be tough sometimes. In fact, any morning or new beginning of any sort can be tough when you feel less than well equipped to face it head on. Half the time I am too busy or too preoccupied with my own worries/problems that I end up starting my day badly, leaving me feeling frustrated, unorganised and less than energetic. It doesn't help that I am not a wise guru of any kind that can cough up thoughts or words of his/her own to stay self-motivated. I find myself constantly searching for some external source that is going to give me the fuel I need, until I can muster the internal strength to work through it. Not only work through it, but feel happy and peaceful doing it. As the name of this blog implies, peaceful is not a state I am in often (thank goodness I have happy down a little better... just a little). 

This morning I was handed the exact inspiration I think I will ever need in the form of an inspirational talk given by F. Enzio Busche. Here are some of the words contained in this talk that, to me, echo pure truth for every single one of us.

Embrace this day with an enthusiastic welcome, no matter how it looks.

When you are sick, tired, or in despair, steer your thoughts away from yourself. In your life there have to be challenges. They will either make you stronger, or kill you, but you make the decision of which road you take.

If you neglect to feed your spirit, you will reap unhappiness.

When you cannot love someone, look into that persons eyes long enough to find the hidden rudiments of the child of God in him. Never judge anyone. When you accept this, you will be freed.

If someone hurts you so much that your feelings seem to choke you, forgive, and you will be free again.

Avoid at all cost any pessimistic, negative, or criticizing thoughts. If you cannot cut them out, they will do you harm.

Avoid rush and hast and uncontrolled words. 

Be not so much concerned about what you do, but what you do, do with all your heart, mind and strength. In thoroughness is satisfaction.

The pain of sacrifice lasts only one moment. It is the fear of the pain of sacrifice that makes you hesitate to do it.

Be grateful for every opportunity to serve. It helps you more than it helps those you serve.

In many ways these lines remind me of how my children naturally are already - enthusiastic, eager to learn, always ready to help someone else, optimistic, and quick to forgive. And fall asleep. Actually that one only goes for Elliot. Have a great monday and week everyone. I will be back soon to tell you all about how Lindsey, Ashley and I took an impromptu trip to Paris. Oh la la!

on meatloaf , gold carriages and pensioners

I have been MIA from this place with no good reason, and every good reason all at the same time. Chalk it up to all that insanity, just like pretty much everything else I don't have a better explanation for. The important thing being: I am here now! Now is all that matters. 

Let us play a little game of catch up.

1. I taught Lindsey how to make meatloaf. This is funny for two reasons. First: I only learned how to make meatloaf myself about a year ago. Second: I got to watch Lindsey knead raw meat and eggs. It was hilarious. I have pictures to prove it, and you can read the first person account of Lindsey's meaty misfortune right here.

 

2. Prinsjesdag (Prince's Day) came around and marked the annual reading of our country's financial plan by none other than our queen, Queen Beatrix. She reads this plan whilst sitting on a throne in the Ridderzaal (Knight's Hall) in our city of The Hague. She gets to the Ridderzaal by exiting her working palace Paleis Noordeinde and getting into her (no joke) gold carriage which her noble steeds then ride over to the Binnenhof. This procession takes place right here in our city and is one of the bigger national events that takes place annually, and so, Lindsey and I figured it would be nice to go see in person. Lindsey for the first time, and the rest of us quite possibly for the last time. 

We got to see her alright, in her mighty shiny carriage, with her immovable hair and ever present hat and everything. It was fun to see the whole parade, but some of the fun was killed by the mainly 55+ people standing around me who did not appreciate the fact that I had brought Elliot. Elliot was not having fun you see, and I expected no less. This whole thing happened in the middle of his normal nap hours, and consisted mainly of waiting - something 15 month olds are just not very good at. I had anticipated some crying... and cry he did. Though he didn't nearly cry and moan as much as the people around me, who, instead of using their precious energy to maybe help me, loudly complained to each other about my stupidity for bringing a baby to such an event. 

I wondered to myself  'Do you really lose all memories of what it was like to be young when you pass the age of 55? Do you honestly lose all sense of compassion and good manners, and become a judgmental, agist, cranky sourpuss?'* This  is a range of qualities that especially the Dutch seem to excell at. 

At one point I turned around to the particularly nasty couple behind me (who were also commenting on how happy they were that they weren't one of those 'brown' people the police would be watching so closely to prevent acts of terrorism), looked them straight in the eye (not difficult to do since we were packed together like sardines) and stood up for myself. I said: 'You do realise I can actually hear you, right?', to which they glanced around uncomfortably and mumbled something intelligable. I waited another couple of seconds to see if they had anything to say for themselves. Then I became worried they might soil themselves -they truly looked uncomfortable and you know, they were kind of old- , and I turned back around. 

The moment I had repositioned myself the man, again loudly, said to the woman: 'Maybe this will teach her not to take small children along to such events, ::sigh:: youth today...'. Yep, they pretty much embodied every single cliche there is of narrow-minded pensioners. I turned around again, looked him in the eye once more, and said: 'Maybe this will teach you to in the future watch these events from the comfort and quiet of your living room where you don't have to worry about brown people being a threat to you ,or young, hard working mothers trying to teach her children about our country!'. OK so, maybe I didn't actually say that. And I'd like to pretend the reason I said nothing was that I was taking the high road, not deeming them worth another thought or word. The real reason of course was that, between frantically trying to keep the kids happy and having to listen to their whining for forever, I was worried I might have a fit if I turned around again. The only place that would have landed me is in a jail cell, charged with several counts of geriatricide.

There he is behind me, looks friendly doesn't he? Sorry, no pictures of the actual gold carriage and our Queen - I had my hands full most of the time.

* Of course I realise I just got unlucky here and that most of you lovely over-fifty-fivers are loverly people - my own parents being excellent examples!

3. We got to go to the beach last week. The beach! In October! It was hot and incredible and fabulous and wonderful and we all got sunburns. I can't tell you how happy this made me - one last Den Haag beach experience. We ate grapes, TUCs with cream cheese, melkbroodjes with chocolate chips, potato chips and plums. We lazied around in the hot sand while the kids played in the water until they could play no more. It made me so happy.

4. We have a date for our final visa interviews! On November 10th we will find out if the US will have us or not. If they do then we are currently thinking of December 8th as a good day to fly out

5. This past weekend was our church's semi-annual General Conference, when our church leaders come together to speak to all the members (and everyone else interested) and remind us of how we should live our lives. That's not all they do though. They inspire, strengthen, encourage and exhude pure love. I came out of this conference feeling changed for the better and invite you all to read my favourite talk of them all over here. Feel free to browse the other talks that were given. Hardly anything will give you as good of an insight as to what I believe and how this church operates like listening to these men and women.

6. I am on a diet. Sander, Lindsey and I are on a diet, actually. We have vowed together that October would be our month of health and that together we would stick to some gruelling rules. One of those rules means that I have to stop typing right now and start exercising. Ugh. Halloween is our day of freedom... come celebrate and eat yourself into a stupor with us!

play dates drive me crrrrazy

So I walked into school talking to my friend on the phone and quickly realised that wasn't going to fly, because when school is out, school is loud. I said a quick goodbye and started looking around for my familiar little blonde heads when I realised that, even though the boys were at home napping like always, nothing new, I had forgotten about one small change to my routine: Elliot was asleep in Max' room - the room with the lock on it - and Max was napping in the girl's room - no lock. No lock. Uh oh. I think we have pretty much established I'm an idiot sometimes, I make no excuses. Don't worry everything was fine when I got home, he was still fast asleep in Lara's bed, and I have learned my lesson. It did make me oddly happy though when, while still at school, I was reminded that parents of 2 or less children also have their idiotic moments. Maybe idiotic is a bit harsh, let's call them 'quirky'.

Par exemple: Mother of 2 girls (6 and 8 or 9 years of age) follows both our youngest daughters over to me. The girls desperately want a playdate straight after school and things need arranging. Now, when I became a mother I told myself that my house would be the house where the doors would always be open for friends. It would be a constant, cosy buzzing of bubbling laughter and child's play. I know, I was an even bigger idiot back then. But I still let them have friends over pretty much whenever they want, unless someone has an infectuous disease or something, and so my immediate response was a smile and an 'Of course!'. Then she said the following to me. Me, the one with the crusty snot on my shoulder and Hello Kitty hairclip because that was all I could find while searching coat pockets and purses for my car keys when I was supposed to be halfway to school 10 minutes ago. She said 'Do you mind if they play over at your place today, because my oldest already has a friend coming over and if Julia came too, things would just get a little too crazy'. I did not take this as a personal reflection on my Julia who is not a rowdy child. I took this as a reflection on the fact that taking Julia home with her would mean 4 children instead of 2 in her home. This woman knows I have 4 children of my own. She knows that her daughter would mean a 5th child, and yet that did not cross her mind as possibly a little 'crazy' for me. My sanity is not an issue and you know what? I can't really say I blame her. I mean really, having 4 kids of your own is the crazy bit, now isn't it? But when she comes over to pick her daughter up, you had better believe that I am showing her the havoc those girls wreaked in Julia's room, and the trail of soggy TP her daughter left all over my living room during a moment of 'craziness' while I was upstairs changing Elliot's diaper. Yeah, she'll never let her daughter play here again after she sees what crazy really means. MuahahaaaaahahahaHAHAHAHAAAAA!

it all happened in a week

A rather major even that has shaped this past month for us Koots is what I would like to tell you all about today.

It all started on a Monday a little over a month ago when Sander had a meeting scheduled at 7pm with a recruitment agency. A company had contacted them and told them they were very interested in Sander, and wanted a meeting with him to see if he might be a fit for a job opening they had. At this point Sander had a perfectly good job, but for some reason felt that it would be a good idea to keep his options open, just in case, and he agreed to the meeting.

That Monday was also the day that our lovely Lindsey was leaving on a jet plane, to enjoy a week of YSA shenanigans at the renouned Festinord, in Sweden. Her plane was scheduled to depart at 8pm, and she had calculated she needed to leave the house at 5pm to make to Schiphol with time to spare. During the day I had been running around doing all sorts of errands (that I now can't for the life of me remember the nature of), and I was SO tired when I came home. Sander graciously offered me a night off from cooking and pitched the idea to take the kids and myself (and my cousin Milenna, who was staying with us that week) with him to his meeting, drop us off at Ikea on the way, and pick us up on the way back. Since I wasn't able to join Lindsey on her Scandinavian adventure - I was SO jealous, Scandinavia is incredibly high on my list of places to visit -  I figured Swedish meatballs would be the next best thing. Thus, at 5pm, Sander, Milenna, the kids, Lindsey and I all left the house and, just before parting ways, Lindsey handed us her housekey that she would not be needing that week.

Fast forward to having just been dropped of at Ikea and getting in line for delicious meatballs. Suddenly my phone rings and upon answering I hear Lindsey's high pitched, stressed out voice (she is usually not high pitched at all) giving me the worst possible news someone with a plane to catch can give you: she left her PASSPORT at home. She did not have a key to the house. We were not home. She could not board her flight without her passport. Being the biggest scatter-brain of them all, I immediately sympathised  with her situation and told her to head back to the house and remain calm, I would give Sander a call and call her back. Sander immediately cancelled his meeting, turned around, picked us up (we just barely had time to grab a quick Swedish hot dog), and drove home at the speed of light, where we found a forlorn looking Lindsey sitting on her suitcase on the sidewalk. You should have seen us, it was like a scene out of a movie: Sander jumped out of the car, pulled the suitcase out from under Lindsey and started stuffing it in the back of his car, while Lindsey and I ran up the stairs to unlock the front door and grab her passport, while Milenna ushered the kids out of the car. The whole switch took about 3 seconds and, before our ever nosey neighbours could blink, Sander was pushing that car right up to ludicrous speed and drove Lindsey to the airport.

Lindsey made her flight. Sander did not make his meeting, but was able to reschedule it for Thursday. Tuesday came and went and on Wednesday the slap in the face was delivered: Sander's boss simply didn't like him, it had very little to do with his performance, and all of his colleagues were outraged. It was the worst news we could have gotten just months before our scheduled emigration. He told his ex-boss about his emigration plans and pleaded if they couldn't just keep him on for another 6 months or so. They refused, but felt bad, and offered him some money to help him take care of his family in case he had to go on unemployment. They also told him that even though his contract would run until August 31st, they didn't want him to come into the office anymore. They wanted him to take that month to work hard at finding a new job. They even let him keep the company car during this month.

So, on Wednesday we were unemployed and not sure what our next move was. Sander clung to the knowledge that he had a business meeting with a possibly eager company the next day, and we tried not to freak out. Thursday morning Sander went to his meeting and came home jubilant. They sounded like a wonderful company and he had the impression they loved him too. A call from the recruitment agency confirmed his feelings: they wanted to see Sander again. The very next morning. Possibly to offer him a contract!

Friday morning we drove to Rotterdam together with Milenna and the kids. Sander dropped us off at the Blijdorp Zoo in Rotterdam and went to his meeting in Capelle a/d IJssel. He did not have a phone with him (his cellphone was the one thing his boss wasn't going to let him keep until the end of the month) and we agreed to meet in the reptile hall - the kids' favourite. I could tell by his walk as he came towards us that the meeting had gone well. He had some papers in his hand. 'OK', I thought, 'papers are good.'. Turns out the papers were a signed contract, and that the salary that these guys offered him was well over what he earned at his previous job!
Well, Sander enjoyed his month at home. With a brand spanking new job in his future he took the time to savour being with me and the kids, and doing things around the house. Lindsey gave us a couple of date nights as a thank you for saving her Festinord adventure (which turned out to be heaps of fun) and the week after Milenna went back home, her sister and mother (my other cousin and aunt) came to stay. It's been a weird summer, filled with the realisation that it will be our last. But however freaked out at the thought of leaving Den Haag I might be, it is things like how Sander found a new job so miraculously fast that tell me we'll be fine. Maybe I'll share some of the other tender mercies we have experienced over the last while in a next blog post, but for now I should think that just this one has put you to sleep is more than enough for today!