When work offers to buy you a shiny new notebook it is time to be careful. Why do they think you need one?

"Well Marie, we think it is important you have a nice notebook to work from home with."

Aha! Currently I work from home one weekend every nine weeks. We all take turns working the weekend shift. Why is it so important that I specifically have a nice computer to work from home with? They are luring me into working evenings and weekends with a shiny new notebook. A pretty plum coloured one. Or would I prefer Midnight Blue? Evil! Evil!

*sigh* "Midnight Blue please. Thank you."

I'm weak.

Today, for the very first time, I paid someone to clean my house for me. My grandmother would be so proud! Everyone else probably thinks I am decadent.



While the maid cleaned the house I added a whole chapter to the story I am writing so I have not been lazy! I feel the need to defend the fact that I hire someone to do work I don't like doing. Strange, isn't it? I don't think anyone in the olden days would have felt that need.

Anyway, my house is cleaner than it has ever been! I am very happy.

I am the eldest. I am the boss.

When I go to work I pass a building that has the first line of a poem written on it in huge lettering. I have seen it often and I always thought them so lovely. Today I decided to look up the poem. Here it is. It was written by Maria Tesselschade a very long time ago.


Myn Lief ik min uw. Dus mijn lieve leve seyde,

Mit dat mijn lippen van haer lieve lippe scheyde.

Geen meerder soetigheyd ter voren inne quam:

Dan als sy my dat gaf, het geen ick haer ontnam.

Onthout die toontjes ey! ick bid uw Cupidootje

Gy kleyne Sielen-vooght, gy machtigh wonder Goodtje!

En steltse in mijn borst op sulken even maet,

Dat daer op pols, en mild, hert, longh, en lever slaet.

Gebied, hier door, mijn Siel aen 't Lichaem 't sijn te geven,

En stadigh dat te voen met sulk een lieve leven;

En seggen dan: mijn lief ik min uw, liefste mijn :

Gy sult altoos, ô lief, mijn lieve leven sijn!

So...that bicycle that got stolen. The one that was gone after I came home from my holiday with skwashy. You remember? Yes, that bicycle.

I found it.

Ahem...yes...so...I went to the supermarket by bicycle, something I very rarely do. It is just around the corner so I usually walk. Today I got it into my head to go there straight from work. I had to park my bicycle somewhere near the supermarket. Parking in this city is a hassle and it makes no difference whether you are by car or bicycle. So I parked on the other side of the street and fetched my groceries. When I walked back I was looking for my bicycle in the mass of bicycles and there it was...my old bicycle. The one I thought was gone never to be seen again, stolen by someone in dire need of heroine or beer. You know, the truly needy.

I parked it there before I went on a holiday and forgot to take it home when I came out of the supermarket. It could happen to anyone. It could happen to you...right? I mean, I know I am aging and that I forgot the code of my bank card recently but this is not a sign of deterioration, is it? I don't think so. Let's never mention this again.

I bought strawberries. Would you like some?

Yesterday, after work, I went to buy a bicycle. I visited a repair shop not far from here a couple of times last week and each time I was there the owner promised me he'd have a nice second hand bicycle for me that he said would be very ugly. The owner is a refugee, an enormous black man with big bulging muscles. It has become custom here to teach refugees who are allowed to stay here how to fix bicycles. Everyone rides bicycles and there are never enough bicycle shops. I remember I had a flat tire once and I went to three different bicycle repair shops and they all looked at me as if I asked something really strange. "Can you fix my tire for me? This is a bicycle repair shop, is it not?" There are so few bicycle repair shops that the repair men will only fix your bicycle for you if you bought your bicycle in that very shop. You get a membership sticker on your bicycle when you buy it.

*sigh* What is this country coming to?

BUT, for me this problem was fixed as soon as the big muscled man established his shop in this neighbourhood. Of course he kept promising me an ugly bicycle and each time I came he didn't have one. But last Friday this problem was solved. He said: "You really want an ugly bicycle?" "Yes, I want an ugly bicycle." He thought it very amusing. I am very serious about the ugliness of my bicycles. You see, bicycles get stolen. Especially pretty ones. Ugly bicycles get stolen too, but I always hope that it will last me a little longer than a pretty bicycle. Also ugly bicycles are cheaper. Since bicycles are a yearly expense I'd rather not buy an expensive one.

So now I have an ugly bicycle and a very fancy new lock. I have a rusty piece of iron with two wheels and a shiny, pretty lock. A lock that cost me almost as much as the bicycle itself.

Today I cycled to the city center to buy black trousers. On my way back I passed the bicycle shop and the big muscled man stood outside, smiling. He waved at me with his tools, laughed and asked how I liked my ugly bicycle. I waved back and said I adored my ugly bicycle. I really do.

I need it to go to work in a healthy way.

*sigh*

I arrived home from my wonderful vacation in San Francisco yesterday evening. (Sob...I'm sad to be home.) Today I wanted to go and buy some groceries. Not only could I no longer remember the code of my bank card but also it appeared my bicycle had gone missing. Stolen. Bicycles get stolen here all the time, I'm sure it was just my turn but I hate it all the same. It was a very good bicycle. A very old one, a very ugly one but a good one.

So I walked to my friend Anne's who had been taking care of my darling monster cats to pick them up. They are home now but don't seem to recognise me. I wanted to pet Adelheid but she got up and sat down again just out of reach for me and looked away from me.

My garden is dead. Three weeks of fierce sun without watering turned my plant babies into parchment. I have to start all over again.

It is hard to adjust to being home. I liked being in San Francisco with my dearest skwashy. She posted pictures.

*weep*

That was last Sunday when I was waiting for a connecting flight at Heathrow Airport. I spent my time drinking coffee at Starbuck's, playing games on my sister's Nintendo DS and writing. It was a very long night.

But I am in San Francisco now and enjoying myself immensely. My hands are manicured, my feet are pedicured, my hair is curled and I am having such fun!

My friend skwashy is at work now. I'll go walk the dog, bring her jacket to the dry cleaner's and write postcards with pretty views of the Golden Gate Bridge at night/in the fog/from a pretty angle. Later I'll go and buy her a latte for lunch and then explore the city. Yay!

I thought it would be time to write something again.

Work is going very well. When I get home in the evening I am exhausted but happy to have learned many new things. Tomorrow is my last day at work before going on a holiday to visit skwashy and Mrs. Skwashy.

I believe I have come very close to reaching the goals I set myself for the three weeks that I worked. Yesterday I was told that my probation period is over so I am quite certain there will still be a job waiting for me when I get home. Whew!

Yes, things are going well.

And now! Holiday time! Yay! I am slowly starting the process of packing. Finally. Tomorrow my friend Anne will come to pick up my evil cats. She loves them. I have no idea why. They are furry, big-eyed, soft, purring, cuddly monsters of destruction.

*happy*

Little Red Riding Hood

I have no idea why.

Dutch and English are the languages I can safely say I speak. But what is "speaking a language"? I am pretty certain I can keep up a conversation in German and the French will understand me as long as I stick to general touristy inquiries and ordering food. I once spoke a few sentences of Italian that were of use. All I remember now are a few opera lyrics that I do not believe I shall be using any time soon if ever.

Nessun dorma!
Guardi le stelle che tremano d'amore.
Il mio bacio scioglierà il silenzio che ti fa mia!


*sigh*

Thees will be amusing...

Good news about the job sitch.

The company who decided not to hire me decided to hire me after all. I had a talk with them today and somehow I managed to convince them that I am worth a gamble. They are pretty nervous about it but they believe in me. I've been told to prepare for three extremely hard weeks. Before I go on a holiday they will squeeze all the working juice out of me.

That's fine. I love working hard. I am glad they changed their minds. This is an excellent career opportunity for me and incidentally I shall also be able to pay the rent.

/me heaves sigh of relief.

*sigh*

These have been a hard few days. There is a very great chance I will be out of a job soon. The past few days I have spent working towards a solution to this rather sudden and scary situation. I managed to get the problem from "certainly out of a job next Monday" to "maybe not out of a job next Monday but certainly probably out of a job in three weeks". It's not much, but it's something.

I am panicking and tired and simply scared. I need a new job.

I was supposed to get myself on a bicycle and off to the beach today. But I didn't feel like it. Instead I did a 15 minute gospel dance workout I found on Youtube. Yes. Ahem. I nearly died. I am still sweating.

I know I should have vacuumed the house *before* working out. Deep in my soul I knew that a workout would tire me a bit and that I wouldn't feel like vacuuming afterward. So I'll sit here with my feet on the cat hair covered floor. The cats don't mind.

.

I have a bad taste in my mouth.

YUCK

I have tried brushing my teeth a zillion times a day but it doesn't work. Every time I eat something it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I like food. I used to like it anyway. Now I don't. Food is evil.

After two days of thinking someone is poisoning my sammies, salads and coffee I decided to google "bad taste in mouth".

I have found the cause of my suffering.

COMMUNIST PINE NUTS

The Italian salad I ate three days ago did not contain Italian pine nuts but Chinese pine nuts. According to the Dutch National Health Department Chinese pine nuts contain a certain unknown (communist)substance that 'might' cause people to have a bad taste in their mouth for several days up to two weeks.

Who'd have thought they'd try to take over the world by sending out pine nuts that cause people to have a bad taste when they eat. What are they trying to do? Starve me to death?

Damn those commies!

*whine* I'm hungry.

Start Trek Voyager.

Yay Janeway!

Stolen from princesslucia

( Renn. Wench )

Language makes me happy. I love it. I love it when people speak correctly. I love knowing the story of language. Where do words come from. What did they mean two hundred years ago? Did they exist two hundred years ago? Five hundred years ago? How did we come to speak this language. Why do people in England speak a Germanic language instead of a Celtic language? Why did Latin die? I love it when someone writes a beautiful sentence. skwashy is very good at writing beautiful sentences. Skwashy darling! Please write me a beautiful sentence. Make me happy!

This weekend I visited my mother so I'm one behind on my happy things posts. So two in one today!

Music makes me happy. I am so glad that there is such a thing as music. I do not have a very defined taste when it comes to music. If there is something beautiful or interesting about a song I will love it no matter the style or genre. Music has played an important role in my life. I played the clarinet as a child. Very badly. In my teens I suddenly decided I liked classical music. My parents were not pleased. I used to sing in a choir and at together with friends at school events. When I was at university I started playing the cello. Reasonably well. In the meanwhile I listened to all kinds of music. To display how my tastes can vary I will post two music videos.

Janet Baker. How pretty she looks, how lovely she sings.



This song fascinates me. It's unusual and it has a nice bass. The text translates as: "Come on bunny do jiggle. Come on bunny do jiggle, skip. Skip as if you're in the forest." The grammar is not fabulous.