Tiny little crinkled baby fingers

(She does actually have five of them. I think.)

Big Weekend

Yes, it's a Big Weekend. Why? Two reasons:

(1) Gretchen and Baby come home tomorrow after 5 nights in the hospital. Unlike the States, where they pretty much kick new mothers out on the street in 24-48 hours, 5 days seems to be fairly standard here (and longer doesn't seem to be a problem if you need it). Plus, the nurses take a lot of time to show you how to do everything so you don't feel quite as clueless and overwhelmed when you bring the baby home. Of course this means that now the hard part begins (well, I suppose labor is also one of the hard parts, but I didn't really think it was so bad!). People at work have commented that I've seemed pretty well-rested this week, which isn't hard to do when you're sleeping in your own bed and your wife and daughter are getting excellent care in the hospital. Starting tomorrow we can't just push a button every time the baby starts crying. If you'll excuse me, I think I need another glass of wine...

(2) Our good friend Stacy is getting married (to Simon) in New York on Sunday. We're exceptionally happy for them, and despite having possibly the best excuse of any non-attendees, we're bummed to miss what should be a great time. So, if we're actually awake on Sunday evening, we'll be sure to raise a toast to the happy couple.

More cuteness

I'm told there comes a time when your every thought is not consumed by this new little creature in your care and you don't feel the need to foist your parental pride on the rest of the world...but we're not quite there yet. Anyway, here's today's daily overload of baby cuteitude (is that a word?).

First bath:


First walk:


Proud mom:

Lightning strikes

If you had told me the following things about a musical group: (a) they were a Eurovision contestant that (b) comes from Germany and (c) plays country music...well, let's just say I would guess that on a scale of 1-10, they'd probably be a -37. But when their song came on during Eurovision I remember thinking that they were actually pretty good...and not in a bad way (like most contestants), but in a real talent sense. Then I noticed that local pop music radio stations were playing their song, "No no never" (there are no actual country stations that I'm aware of here), and I found myself humming along and tapping my feet. Anyway, the group is called Texas Lightning, and darned if I didn't find myself on iTunes last night buying "No no never" (I dare you to watch the video on their website and tell me it's not a damn catchy tune). Besides, any group that plays country versions of songs by Spinal Tap, Abba, Madonna, AC/DC and Lou Reed can't be all bad. Plus I learned on their website that their lead singer's favorite animal is the wombat, which was a big plus...

Today's obligatory cute photo

Schatzli

We've made no secret of our dislike for the sound of Swiss German to our non-native ears, so we were shocked to learn something we never would have expected: the way the nurses at the hospital speak Schwyzertütsch to Baby is utterly charming. I'm sure some of that is just because they're so good with babies, but it's also the case that the sing-songy cadence that can sound so off-putting at times to our expat ears is genuinely beautiful with a baby in a way that I don't think Hochdeutsch (High German) would be, and she really seems to love it--we're actually trying to learn some words from one of the nurses, although I'm betting we won't be able to say them in quite the same way. I never would have imagined using "Swiss German" and "charming" in the same sentence unless there was a "not" somewhere in between...go figure.

Thunder road

Growing up in San Diego, I was terrified of thunderstorms because we seldom had more than one per year (it's not very humid, except sometimes at the end of summer). I eventually got over that, and once I moved to the East Coast (where thunderstorms are fairly common in spring and summer) I realised how refreshing they can be when they roll through and drop the temperature 20 degrees in the space of an hour. (Although it sounds like they've about had it with thunderstorms this week in DC...note to self: call management company to see how badly flooded the basement of your house is.) Having said that, I've realised that my enjoyment of thunderstorms has its limits. For example:

(a) You know that old Bob Seger song where he sings "I woke last night to the sound of thunder/How far off I sat and wondered"? (C'mon, sing it with me.) Well last night we had one of those storms that was more like "I woke last night to the sound of...holy crap, did that just hit the house? And is that rain blowing through my open window and hitting me in the face?" (Doesn't go quite as well with the tune, I know.) It was one of those storms that lasts for at least an hour or two, and for much of the time the house was literally shaking. Not fun when you're trying to catch up on some of the last sleep that you may get for the next several years (nor, I understand from close sources, is it fun when you're in the hospital and your baby has finally fallen asleep and the storm arrives during your short window of opportunity between feedings).

(b) There's nothing like getting home and being faced with a dog who simply must go out RIGHT THIS MINUTE and the skies open up and thunder starts crashing as soon as you walk out the door...then, because he's distracted by the rain and thunder he decides not to poop after all, so you arrive home drenched through your clothes and he's still a maniac. Good times...

Toys in the haddock

In non-baby news, today when I came home to walk Grady he started eating something off our lawn, which when I pulled him away turned out to be several large pieces of fish, just baking in the sun. This seemed odd on a number of levels, especially since we don't live anywhere near a body of water (although the other night we had a big frog sitting on our lawn...go figure). I figured maybe someone had tossed it into our yard, although that seemed like a pretty strange thing to do, especially since there are no shortage of places to toss things here where they'll never be found.

Later, I ran into my landlords, with whom we have a rather unique tenant/landlord relationship, and we had the following conversation:

ME: It's very strange, someone seems to have thrown some fish in our yard and I need to go clean it up before Grady eats it.

LANDLORD: Oh, yes. It is haddock. Do you know haddock?

ME: Ummm...yes.

LANDLORD: We put it out for the birds. I'm surprised they haven't eaten it yet.

ME: Well, see, the thing is, I don't think it's so good if Grady eats it.

LANDLORD: Yes, we didn't think about Grady.

(((Long pause)))

ME: Well, I guess I'll go clean it up, then.

Action shot

Gretchen finally agreed to be photographed today, in this case talking with her sister while simultaneously acting as the baby's personal futon:

Pleased to introduce...

...BABY!

(Whose name, in a fit of fatigue, I managed to misspell in a mass email to friends and family. I'm not always the sharpest tool in the shed.)

Born at 5:01pm today, 3.33 kilos (7 pounds, 5 ounces or so), 52 centimeters (about 20.5 inches). And the blog isn't her first appearance on the internet. Gretchen was amazing but had zero desire to appear in a photo after many hours of hard work so you're stuck with my ugly mug instead:

Life goes on

I wouldn't blame Gretchen if all she wanted to do was lay on the couch all day and complain...and, well, sometimes that's exactly what she does. But I have to give her credit: despite feeling like crap much of the time, the past couple of weekends she's been up for taking short day trips. I guess it beats the boredom and discomfort of sitting in a warm house with no air conditioning. Both destinations were ideal: within an hour's drive, small enough to walk around easily, but with enough to see to keep our interest. And both were places we'd never heard of until I started playing around on the official Swiss Tourism website.

Last Saturday we drove out to Laufenburg, a perfectly charming little town (like so many here) spanning both the Swiss and German sides of the Rhine (this is looking back toward the Swiss side...the yellow house toward the right must surely be one of the skinniest we've ever seen).



Since it was a warm day, Gretchen decided to do something she'd never done before--dip her feet in the Rhine.



Then today, we drove down to the French-speaking canton of Jura to visit the quaint little town of Saint-Ursanne. (As much as I love being able to drive so easily to France and Germany, I may love even more that we can drive a half-hour and everyone is speaking French...but we're still in the same country.) The town itself was really nice, but we were particularly taken with this interesting piece of art (it's a man! it's a pillow! it's blue!) that was suspended between several buildings.



Most of the time I try hard not to look like an American, but sometimes it just can't be helped. Today was one of those times--since it was so hot and sunny, I was in full tourist mode...shorts, goofy hat, man purse, you name it.



So, big ups to Gretchen for being such a trooper despite being past her due date...

Me and "my baby"

I realize that a "real" baby will be joining our household soon (or so they say...), but let's not forget about my Baby #1. It's not easy to snap pictures of Grady. He usually barks as soon as he sees one of us get out the camera. But for some reason he didn't mind it today. Kirk and I were outside taking a few nostaligic belly photos (which will NOT be posted), and Grady flopped down in the sunshine and allowed us to take advantage of the moment. Look at this precious puppy! He has no idea what's in store for him in the coming days...

Bad hair day

We've generally resisted making many comments about fashion here, in part because we don't want to offend (we're sensitive like that), and in part because it's not like either of us are exactly fashionplates. All I'm going to say is that Basel is possibly the worst-dressed city in Europe, at least among the younger crowd. (Get a mental image of how you think kids might dress in an isolated former Communist Eastern bloc city...it's worse here. When we were watching Eurovision last month, it was startling how many of the guys looked like your typical Basel teenager hanging out on a Saturday night at Barfüsserplatz.) Anyway, I'll bite my tongue and not say any more for now, but the reason this came up is because I was reading this article about hairstyles in the World Cup, and it turned out the Swiss player they highlighted has the Basel youngster faux-hawk in full effect...and as it turns out, he plays for FC Basel! Which begs the question, are the kids of Basel trying to emulate him, or has he adapted to local norms?

Coco?

Not surprisingly, not all movie titles translate directly from English to German. One of my favorite examples was "Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo" (produced, incidentally, by a good friend's father...which, frankly, was the only reason to see it) translated here as "Rent a Man". Which, come to think of it, gets right to the point. Anyway, the latest movie that makes no sense to us is "Curious George", which for some reason in translated here as "Coco, der neugierige Affe" (sometimes simply shortened to "Coco der Affe", which is basically "Coco the monkey" or "Coco the ape"). There is a German form of George (Georg), so we haven't the slightest clue why Curious George would be known here as Coco.

(Once again, we're proud to do our part to enhance the intellectual content of the blogosphere...)

Overdue?

I just don't want anyone to get excited thinking that there's some baby news since we haven't posted anything in the past 24 hours! Yes, today is Baby's due date. Kirk and I always pride ourselves in being punctual people, and I'd certainly like Baby to inherit this trait. But it's not looking that way. We saw the doctor this morning, and the ultrasound showed us that she continues to be healthy (and happy) inside my tummy. We walked out of there with another appointment scheduled for next Tuesday... 'nuff said...

It's good to be bad

So today was the big US-Ghana Weltmeisterschaft match, and while I'm not one to wave the flag or paint my face, I wanted to get into the spirit of things. The only problem is that the match was scheduled at 4:00pm this afternoon. What to do? Well, it seemed appropriate to have an "offsite meeting" around that time. I found a nearby Irish pub that just recently opened, and they were kind enough to tune their main TVs to that match (forcing the few other folks there to move to the other side of the room to watch Italy-Czech Republic...suckers!). Then I got a nice surprise when I sent Gretchen a text message telling her where I was and she just happened to be on a tram nearby at the time so she jumped off and came over and watched it with me. Despite the losing effort, it was kind of fun to play hooky, which I pretty much never do (and I at least limited myself to one beer and still went back to work afterward).

And no, if you told us we would be hanging out in an Irish pub the day before Gretchen's due date we wouldn't believe it either...

And then there was one...

We just heard that the fifth couple (out of six) from our prenatal class had their baby this morning, which leaves us as the lone holdouts. This isn't unexpected since Gretchen had the latest due date, but if she weren't feeling ready enough this may push her over the top...

Just chill

Just as he was for our wedding 7.5 years ago, Kirk is in charge of music for the delivery of our baby. There's a CD player in the delivery rooms at the hospital, and it's been suggested to us by many people that it's not a bad idea to bring along some music. I have no idea what CDs we'll be bringing along, but I know that Kirk has already packed a bunch and I'm looking forward to hearing what he's selected. At this point, I can't even imagine what I might be in the mood for in the delivery room, but I have no doubt that he'll have an option for every one of my changing moods that day.

Last time I went to see Guy, the hair "guy", they were playing really awesome music in his salon. I was there for several hours as I was getting some blond highlights, and, honestly, it was one of the most relaxing days I've had in months. I felt like I was at a spa. There were hardly any other clients in there that afternoon, so the only noise I heard was this fabulous "chill" music, like the type you might hear in the lobby of a W hotel, and all the staff speaking French (which is oh so much more relaxing than listening to a bunch of people speaking Swiss German). Afterward, I asked Guy what music he was playing, thinking it would be perfect background music during my upcoming labor. Because it was loaded through his MP3 player, all he could tell me was that it was two CDs: "Chill House" and "Ibiza Chill". I come to find out that there are literally dozens of editions of these two CDs! I would be willing to spend the money to order them from a music store here in Basel, but I have no idea exactly which ones to order. I figured I would just forget it for now, and wait until I see him again, at which point I can ask him to check at home for me to see exactly which CDs he has.

Fast forward to yesterday... when my husband, who is so good to me, tells me he bought something for me! He picked out 3 "chill" CDs from Media Markt for us to bring along to the hospital. They may not be the exact CDs that Guy was playing, but I love them nonetheless. What a thoughtful guy (Kirk, not Guy, sorry for the confusion).

I'm trying to live the motto "JUST CHILL" these days. I know this baby could come at any moment. It's hard to wait. I'm incredibly uncomfortable much of the time, especially with this recent heat wave. I sleep horribly at night. Virtually everything in my body aches at one point throughout the day. I'm huge, and it sounds like an elephant is walking through our house with every step I take. Most of my maternity clothes (even XL!) hardly fit me anymore, so I've resorted to wearing a muu-muu (actually, it's huge bathing suit coverup that just looks like a tent). But I tell myself... just chill... this little girl will be with us for the rest of our lives, so seriously, what's a few more days?

Mixed blessing

In the event a huge thunderstorm rolls through, is the appropriate response to be:

(A) Glad that the hot weather may finally break and the thick layer of pollen and dust will finally be washed off the car; or

(B) Bummed that the satellite reception for the Australia-Brazil World Cup match is kaput?

In our case, the correct answer was (A)...but just barely.

'Fraidy cat

I've gone through the full range of emotions leading up to this whole baby thing. To be honest, my first reaction wasn't excitement, but rather abject terror. That was followed by periods of denial, apprehension, excitement, etc. (Gretchen was saying maybe that's one reason it's good to be pregnant for 9 months--it gives you more time to come to grips with the whole thing.) I have to say the worst of my fears have mostly past, although I've noticed lately it takes forever to get to sleep while my mind spins about the forthcoming changes. Having said that, I still have a number of fears, some rational, most probably not so rational:

• VOMITING: Gretchen was stunned to learn this was one of my biggest fears, but the fact is, while never formally diagnosed, I believe I have a whopping case of emetophobia. I'm not talking about the normal, every day spitting up that babies do (although I do fear I'll actually have to do more laundry). I'm talking the stomach bugs featuring projectile vomiting that kids bring home and, more alarmingly, pass along to their parents. Laugh if you must, but just thinking about it freaks me out.


• TANTRUMS: I was thinking about this today when a neighborhood child was having one of those meltdowns that was so loud I suspect half the neighbors were contemplating calling the police. I'm not sure I'm prepared to deal with a full-on, drop-to-the-floor-of-the-supermarket-and-scream-at-the-top-of-your-lungs tantrum.


• GIRL STUFF: I just don't get it. And the teen years are already enough to put the fear of God in me. 'Nuff said.


• ACCIDENTS: What if she falls down and hurts herself and when I have to take her to the doctor, I'm immediately suspected of being an abusive parent? (Hey, it happens on "ER"...)


• MONEY: I suppose this means we can't just blow all our money on vacations, doesn't it? All of a sudden the whole concept of job security means waaaaaay more than it used to.


• COMPETITIVE PARENTING: DC is one of those places where people seem to provide everything and then some for their kids. I hear the stories of over-the-top birthday parties, activities scheduled from morning until night, etc, and I don't want that. On the other hand, I don't want to be that neglectful dad that won't do the little things for his kids. How do you strike that balance?


• OTHER ILLNESSES: Getting beyond vomiting for a second, kids seem to come down with every illness under the sun. This is alarming because: (a) I dread the helplessness of not being able to make them better and: (b) I dread them passing along their illnesses to us. It seems like every parent I know, some of whom haven't had more than a mild cold in years, all of a sudden spend half of their life with a hacking cough, sore throat and/or pinkeye brought home by their kids.


• THE BUSH PRESIDENCY: It just doesn't seem like an auspicious time to be born, does it? I'm hoping this is mitigated by our living overseas...


• MUSIC: Let's face it, kids generally have atrocious taste in music...are we resigned to a future of listening to cheesy kids' music during long car rides until I want to claw out my eyeballs? (Only to be followed by listening to cheesy boy bands, with the same effect, as she gets older?)

And that's just scratching the surface. Yikes.

(And I'm not looking for reassurance--I figure all new dads probably deal with these kind of concerns. Except for the vomiting part, maybe...)

Ich spreche Deutsch

When we moved to Basel just over two years ago, one of my goals was to learn to speak German. Considering I wouldn't be working, I figured that taking German lessons would be at least one productive thing to do with my time. Let's be clear about this, you could easily get by living in Basel as an expat without ever taking German lessons. I know plenty of people who do. You can pick up a few key phrases in German and otherwise use English (or French, if you know it) most of the time. But for me, it was important to try to speak the language.

I did have some background in German before coming here. I grew up in a family with a strong German influence (my Grandparents having come to the US from Dresden in the 1920s) so even as a child I knew quite a few German foods, especially those related to food. Then in college a took a couple German classes to help prepare for my semester abroad in Vienna. I should mention, however, that I lived in a total isolated little island of Americans during this semester abroad, so I hardly ever used what little German I knew. Nonetheless, I'm sure that all of this background gave me a head start in my German lessons here in Basel.

I started semi-private German lessons in Basel in September 2004. For the first year, my friend Sabrina and I went to class two mornings a week. After that, we knocked it down to one morning a week because we were both starting to burn out on it. It may not have been the most structured class (we spent a lot of the time in conversation with the instructor rather than learning grammar), and it certainly hasn't been anything like the intensive courses that some of my expat friends have taken, but somehow I managed to learn German.

I'm so happy to say that I closed this chapter of my Basel life this week. Wednesday morning was our last German class. Making this break wasn't easy... I think Sabrina and I both had been wanting to do so for a while, but we've also become quite connected to our instructor and it was hard to just tell her we wanted to quit. Kind of like "breaking up" with your hair stylist! But now the baby's imminent arrival has given us a good excuse. Our instructor wondered if we'd like to continue in the fall and bring the baby along, but my answer was a quick and easy "Nein, danke", especially knowing we're moving back to the States next year. Our instructor seems very sad about us quitting and has always wanted us to continue until we pass some official certification, but I honestly have no desire to do so. And could someone please tell me what good knowing German will be to my life back in DC?!

I'm far from fluent, but I'm happy with how much I've learned. I could've studied more and worked harder at it, and I easily could be closer to fluent if I lived in a country that actually speaks Hochdeutsch rather than crazy Swiss German (no offense to any of my lovely Swiss friends). But for now, I'm proud of the fact that I can get by in stores and restaurants, have conversations with our neighbors and the lady at the local bakery, and, perhaps most importantly, I can tell if some telemarketer-type who calls on the phone is someone I don't want to talk to... in which case I can lie and say: "Ich spreche kein Deutsch".

Photo op

Two pictures that are worthy of attention:

(1) I normally don't find male nudity particularly amusing, but for some reason this picture on The Big Finn's blog cracked me up (you really have to click on the picture to expand it to get the full effect). I'm not sure what I find more disturbing--the discomfort of lying down naked on rocks or the thought of how badly sunburned my Nordic body would be under similar circumstances.

(2) This is a bit old but I've been meaning to link to it for a while--local bloggers Rebecca and Marco captured just how seriously cleanliness can be taken here. (The odd thing, though, is that despite most areas being tidy, the Swiss seem to think nothing of graffiti. You can be walking down a charming old street and see graffiti scrawled on half of the walls and no one paints over it. Odd.)

Hypothetically speaking

Let's say, just for the sake of argument, that you've been whining (or "whingeing", as our British and Aussie friends might say) about having months of unseasonably cold and wet weather. And then, hypothetically, spring never actually came and instead one day it was all of a sudden summer. In that hypothetical situation, at what point is one allowed to begin whining with a straight face about being too hot and wondering whether it would cool off soon? Would it be a mitigating factor if your wife was--in theory, at least--nine months pregnant? Not that I have any specific situation in mind, of course...I just happened to be wondering. Hypothetically.

Summer is here

A true sign that summer has arrived in Basel... fresh cherries! I suppose the clear blue skies and temperatures in the 80s would also be a good indication that it's finally summer. Because of this warm weather, and the fact that it's impossible to keep the house cool in the afternoons since no one here has air conditioning, I decided to be brave yesterday and put on my maternity bathing suit and head to the pool. There it was, my big belly filled with our big baby out there for the whole world (or at least for the 20 or so people who were at our pool) to see. I now look like one of those pregnant ladies you see and think "Wow, she looks like she's going to have her baby any minute!"

On the way home from the pool, I decided to take my chances to drive past my favorite "neighborhood" farm that sells cherries during the season. I've been waiting with great anticipation for the first local cherries, and was happy to find some at the Freiburg market on Saturday. They were good, but not perfect. Thankfully, I saw this sign as we approached the farm I like to visit in Biel-Benken.



Later today, after I visit the pool once again, I plan to walk up to the field behind our house where strawberry season has begun! This is always a wonderful time in Basel... sunny skies, long days (there's still light in the sky at 10:00 pm), and fresh fruit grown practically in our backyard.

Pants

For those who are following, or at least sort of following, the World Cup, I highly recommend this guy's daily updates. Not only are they quite amusing, but I've also learned something from them. Specifically, the use of the word "pants" as an adjective (as in "England are pants"). Near as I can tell, something that is "pants" is bad (and if you've followed the ongoing saga of my manpris, you might appreciate that one of his categories of "pants"-ness is "THOSE GIRLY CAPRI PANTS THAT YOU SOMETIMES SEE GUYS WEARING"). How have I gone through life not knowing this?

Goleo

For those unfamiliar with the ways of the Weltmeisterschaft, everything you ever needed to know about it is right here.

(And can I just say how nice it is to have all of the matches--or "games", as you Yanks might call them--on during prime time, even if the commentary is all in German? Speaking of which, hearing the German announcer yell "Toooooooooooorrrrrrrrr!" just isn't nearly exciting as hearing an announcer on a Spanish-language channel screaming "GOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLL!!! GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL!!! GOOOOOOOOOLLLLL!!!")

UPDATE: Gretchen was disappointed that I titled this post "Goleo" but failed to mention that, in a fit of irrational exuberance, we bought a stuffed Goleo for baby yesterday. Sure, it's a bit dorky, but we figured it could be a reminder of this time in our/her lives:

Change is a-comin'

Act II, Scene 3, in which Grady ponders the sudden appearance of these strange new contraptions in what has heretofore been his room:

A day of Euro-ness

After seemingly months of rain and gloom and cold, the sun finally seems to have come out for an extended stay this week, which does wonders for the mood. So, since we needed to go back to the baby store near Freiburg, Germany, to claim a tax refund at some point, we figured yesterday would be a perfect day to do that and stop along the way at one of our favorite places, the Saturday morning market in Freiburg. I had the full-on casual Euro thing goin' on:



Football jersey in honor of the World Cup (or, as we call it here, the Weltmeisterschaft, or WM if you prefer--and kindly ignore that it's an official jersey of the Norwegian national team, who failed to make the tournament)?...CHECK!

Man-purse?...CHECK!

Man-pris (as Dave has dubbed them)?...CHECK!

Bratwurst in one hand?...CHECK!

Very German-looking man on a bicycle in the background?...CHECK!

About the only thing I'm missing is either a beer or cigarette in my other hand.

But I wasn't the only one going Euro. See, Gretchen has a fondness for pretty much all European things for children...toys, clothes, etc. Most of them are quite expensive by American standards, but the color and craftsmanship is enough to make her linger in almost any children's store. Sure enough, we stopped in one and while we were looking around, Gretchen came across a stuffed doll that reminded her of a Euro version of what she called a "Dressie Bessie" that she evidently grew up with...it has laces and buttons and velcro and snaps and evidently helps kids learn how to fasten clothing. From the look in her eye, I could see that no matter what the cost (and let's just say it wasn't cheap, although she rationalised it by saying we could use our tax refund to pay for it), the chances of leaving Freiburg without it were pretty slim--and I was right:



I sure hope baby likes stuffed animals, because I think we've managed to amass a lifetime's collection worth before she's even born.

One of those guys

The other day I was walking downtown at lunch and passed a guy wearing a t-shirt that said something like "Certified Sex Instructor: First Lesson Free". That of course reminded me of the t-shirts Gretchen saw on her trip to Paris last year, and I was thinking to myself that, thank God, you would certainly never catch me wearing a shirt like that.

Fast forward to that night when I got home from work, reached in a drawer and pulled out this t-shirt:



See, a few years ago I had a meeting in Ottawa. Having a few hours to kill, and figuring the shopping would be closer to home than what we find in Basel, I stopped into a mall where I found a shop that had t-shirts on sale for something like 7 Canadian dollars (which at the time was worth about $1 US...one of the great disappointments of our time is that I can no longer give my Canadian friends a hard time about their weak dollar). I couldn't pass up a deal like that, so I started going through the shelves and came across one that caught my eye because of (a) the reference to Wisconsin; and (b) the big cow. How perfect, I thought--Gretchen will love it! (This was when she was still back in Wisconsin caring for her mother.) It was only when I got back to Basel and looked at it again that I really grasped the whole "Master Breeder" thing (trust me, I can be pretty slow on the uptake when it comes to things like this). Suffice it to say it immediately became one of those shirts that I only wear around the house or, at a maximum, around the block with Grady (I can only imagine what the neighbors think). And, needless to say, the shirt now has a whole new level of meaning for both of us--Gretchen suggested I actually wear it to the hospital for the delivery.

Arranging my spice cabinet

There's a line from an old Tom Petty song that perfectly describes my life these days: "The waiting is the hardest part..."

My official Geburtstermin (due date) is just over two weeks away, and at times I feel that day will never come. Sure, I still have plenty of anxiety over the process of labor and delivery, not to mention all the years of motherhood to come, but at this point, all I want is to meet this little girl and to begin to feel a bit normal again. I suppose I don't have to list all my pregnancy woes, because either: a) you may not care to hear them all again, or, b) you've been pregnant yourself and therefore already know what I'm going through. Everyone had always said to me that the last weeks are the hardest and they were right! For so much of this pregnancy I've felt great (sometimes hardly even remembering that I was pregnant), and I always try to keep it in perspective and remind myself how blessed I am to have had a healthy pregnancy, but still... I've had enough of the indigestion, the achy joints, the strong kicks into my ribs (she has strong feet!), the exhaustion, the maternity clothes that no longer fit, the sleepless nights, the tiny bladder, and, most importantly, the WAITING! OK, so there, I listed all my complaints even though I said I wasn't going to. Actually, to top it all off, I'm now also suffering from the Basel allergies that I experienced for the first time last spring. So in addition to getting up a few times each night to pee, I have to get up a few times just to blow my nose. How lovely. Thank you, Kirk, for being so patient and understanding. If I am in fact driving him crazy, he certainly hasn't let on to it.

I'm trying to keep busy to keep my mind off the waiting, but that can be tough considering I can only do so much each day with my lack of energy. I'm just not used to having to do so little! The sun is finally shining and I really wish I could be more active. I'm trying to spend lots of time getting together with friends, especially knowing I won't be able to do as much of that in the coming months. I've done as much nesting as I want to for now. I've checked just about everything off my "to do" list that has been lingering for weeks. And now, I wait...

By the way, there is a story behind the title of this post. Years ago, a good friend of mine back in DC (we'll call her M) was one of the last of my girlfriends to still be single as most of us were meeting our husbands and coupling off. No one (including M) could ever understand why she was still single-- she was cute, and funny, and easy-going, and smart, and generally one of my favorite people. Everyone I knew agreed with this (even Kirk), yet why did she always have such bad luck with the boys? She was getting a bit desparate to meet someone because she was becoming unhappy, and really wanted the companionship of a boyfriend/husband. She was tired of all the bad dates with weirdos and losers. Instead, she opted to spend more time on her own until Mr. Right came along. One time, when we were talking about what she had done over the weekend, she said (with a touch of embarrasment): "I arranged my spice cabinet". Her life was in perfect order, even her spices! She truly felt that the only thing missing was a good man! Well, my life is now in order (well, maybe not my spices) and the only thing missing is this little baby girl.

And in case you're wondering, M did find Mr Right, and they're now happily married with 3 kids.

All quiet on the western front

Yeah, so the blog is Snooze City these days. Gretchen is feeling uncomfortable and tired and can pretty much do one activity per day before wearing out, so her life isn't all that exciting. On top of that, spending more than a couple of minutes sitting at the computer feels about as comfortable to her as being in the middle seat in economy class on a flight from London to Sydney. As for me, I work, eat and sleep so my life isn't all that exciting either. Even Grady isn't doing anything interesting these days.

Why do I have a feeling the days of boredom will be over soon?

March of the bloggers

Perhaps one reason it was such a nice day today was because we had visitors who were kind enough to bring the nice weather with them. We had met Ms Mac, Mr Mac and their boys when they visited Basel last fall, and thought it would be fun to get together again ohne Kinder. So they paid us another visit in Basel, and this time brought Heather (who was exceedingly modest about her Best Swiss Blog award) and Mr H with them.

Since it was such a nice day every outdoor table in Basel seemed to be taken. Still, we found a little place we've enjoyed before where there weren't seats available outside, but by some miracle they actually had a non-smoking section, and our very nice waitress offered to try to find us a seat outside. Sure enough, before we had even finished looking at the menu we were able to relocate to the courtyard, where I'm sure everyone appreciated the echoing voices of two Yanks, two Brits, an Aussie and a Scot having lots of boisterous conversation and laughs. It was a really fun afternoon (and we hardly talked about blogging, although it's always just a bit strange that you know things about each other when you've hardly met), although we unfortunately had to abandon them to the shops of downtown Basel because Gretchen fades quickly these days (the last time the Macs were in town I had to go home early with a stomach ache, so I fear we may be getting a reputation for being lame). Sitting outside with a beer on a nice day with good company and uncharacteristically friendly service--not a bad way to spend an afternoon! And now we'll close the day by watching the March of the Penguins DVD, which I haven't seen yet because the English version wasn't shown here...

Let there be light

Something strange happened this morning: a bright, round object rose in the eastern sky. We didn't know what it was so we were a bit frightened, but when we stood in the light that it cast, it was actually warming. Gretchen said she thought it might be something called the "sun"; she had heard that it appeared with some frequency other places (California, for example), but not here. Not only that, but no water was falling from the sky, which was a strange color highly uncharacteristic for these parts:



Luckily by this afternoon the sky was starting to return to its normal slate gray and the "sun" (if that's what it's called) was harder to find, although every now and then it reappears...

A place in this world

No, we haven't yet picked a baby name, but thanks for asking. We're slowly narrowing options and are down to a short list, and luckily we're not fighting over any of them. We're just indecisive (as usual). So I got to thinking that since one of the latest trends is giving children place names--Brooklyn, Paris, Siena, etc--and since we've done so much traveling over the past few years, maybe we should think about a name with meaning. How would some of these sound for a little girl?

SoHo
Kowloon
Segovia
Vanuatu
Langkawi
Zermatt
Shibuya
Chianti
Barcelona
Wengen
Krakow
Haarlem
Bergen
Titlis
Beaune
Manly
Bangkok
Phuket
Swabia
Bamberg
Neuschwanstein

I'm sure none of those would give her a complex for life...

Random acts of kindness

Tuesday morning I went to a casual coffee/chat event with the spouses group organized through Kirk's office. There were only about 15 women there, all of whom I had met before except for one. She was an older, Swiss woman who was very nice and seemed very interested to hear about my pregnancy. We chatted for several minutes, and as we were saying goodbye, she asked me for my name and address. She said she often liked to knit things for babies, and didn't have babies in her family to knit for at the current moment. I thought it seemed a bit strange that she wanted my contact info considering I had only just met her, but certainly there was no harm in giving it to her.

Fast forward to this afternoon, 3 days after I chatted with this woman at the coffee morning. I received a small package in the mail. I didn't recognize the return name or address and couldn't figure out who would be mailing me something from within Basel. If any of my friends had something for me they would most likely just give it to me in person. Imagine my surprise when I opened the package and found two precious little knitted sweaters, one pink and one light green. Enclosed was a note from my new friend, explaining that the sweaters are called "Basler Schlüttli" and wishing me all the best with our new baby.

Really, I am just stunned. And touched. Every so often it is a good thing to be reminded that there are kind people in the world who like to do nice things for people just because they can. I'm certainly reminded of that today.

Rechtschreibungsbiene

(I have no idea if that title is a real word, but when I entered "spelling bee" into a free translator it's what came out.)

I was a bit surprised to read this morning to see that both the winning word ("ursprache") and the word that knocked out the second-place finisher ("weltschmerz") in the big US spelling bee were of Germanic origin. Suffice it to say that most Americans are not very up on anything sounding remotely German (I'll bet they would have had a tougher time with something like "weltanschauung"). I don't have anything else remotely of interest to add here except to once again highly recommend the documentary "Spellbound", especially if you were a bit of a geek like I was in school.

Bad timing

I know it's just the slightest bit inconvenient for Gretchen to be hauling around extra weight (the doctor today estimated the baby was 3.3 kilos, or about 7 pounds, with three weeks yet to go), having to pee every 15 minutes, not sleeping well, having difficulty fitting into maternity clothes that she's completely sick of wearing, etc. But forget all that--let's talk about me for a minute.

I mean, the timing of this whole pregnancy thing is just NOT as good as it could be. For example, there have been three holidays in the past month that we've not been able to take advantage of (Labour Day, Auffahrt and Whit Monday, which I still don't entirely understand). Instead of driving up to the Alps, taking the train down to Lausanne or Lugano, or flying off someplace where they see the sun for more than three hours a week, we're spending our long weekends assembling furniture (me) and organising baby clothes (Gretchen). On top of that, next week I have to miss a work trip to New York, which would be a golden opportunity to visit family and friends and do some much-needed shopping. It's just not fair, I tell you! Who can I blame (other than myself, that is) for this gross injustice?