There's nothing like homemade cookies, and there's definitely nothing like my homemade cookies made in Europe

Last week I made chocolate chip cookies. Usually making cookies isn't really a big deal, but here for some reason the flour is different in Europe. Like one time I made some brownies with an american recipe, it was for a church carry in. Everyone at my church are amazing cooks! And they always put me to shame. This time I was making one of my husbands favorite childhood desserts. They're called blonde brownies. I was warned about the flour, horrible things would happen if I made an American recipe with German flour, but did I listen? No. So after my brownies cooled I went to cut them. They looked amazing, just like my mother-in-laws. I went to put the knife in, and it was a rock! Solid hard. Not only did I not have anything to bring to church the next day, but my overwhelming thought was, how am I supposed to get this rock hard substance out of my glass baking pan? That's all in the past, long time ago. The church pot luck managed without my amazing contributions. And my husband spent the rest of the week with a chisel getting out what ever he could. (This could explain why he had so much dental problems this past summer.)

So last week, I thought, "It's Christmas, we have to have cookies. And I want chocolate chips, not just any cookies, I want gooey no need to bother chewing chocolate chips, and I'm going to make them with only ingredients that I can get here." So I took a bar of dark chocolate, cut it up into chunks. (not as easy as it sounds) Used all ingredients from here even the dreaded flour. Now my trick this time was I would only bake as many as we could eat that night and the rest of the dough would go in the fridge for later. My husband was reading the Bible with someone in the living room so I didn't have anything else to do, so I sat on the kitchen floor and watched the cookies bake through the glass oven door. I know what your thinking, can this blog get anymore exciting. She is sitting watching cookies bake. (ok i should probably be honest, it's not going to get much more interesting, so just go back to reading facebook updates.) Ok back to the baking cookies, normally when you peek at cookies baking the round balls of dough melt into lovely cookies. Mine were oozing butter. They did flatten out, but they were way bigger and flatter than they should have been. I went to put them on our plates only to have them crumble. So we ate our cookies with a fork. When my husband tried my cookies he was so excited. He couldn't stop saying how excited he was that they were made out of all ingredients from here. They tasted amazing and if you didn't let them cool, which is not a problem for us, they're soft and gooey. And they make your husband say nice things to you.

I know, I know, those look amazing, you want the recipe, but you'll have to beg me for it. I love comments, if you comment maybe I'll tell.

Thoughts on Grace

When I was a child I remember thinking if I can just get better at doing this and get over my sin then someday I'm going to be perfect.

Why hasn't this happened yet? Why is it the older I get the more I need this grace? In fact I'm desperate for it. But that's what makes His gift so amazing. It's value is stronger than the Euro :)...Ok stronger than ever.

I think I just got same hair cut as the mom from the brady bunch...

I've been putting off getting my hair cut. I put it off to the point that my hair was so damaged that it would just knot itself together. Like really horrible knots. it looked like I had just spent the whole day in a convertible car without pulling my hair back. Like imagine ten thin gold necklaces tangled together in your grandmas jewelry box. That was happening like three times a day. I go into the hair salon without an appointment. They usually don't make appointments at that place. I just show up. So I get there, stumble over German words that's I've known for 2 plus years, and then ask for my usual hair stylist Denise. The young stylist looks at me sadly and says, "Oh, Denise is sick." This surprised me for several reasons. One, the girl could understand my German and didn't make me repeat myself. Two, she expressed great emotion over this problem. For a moment I thought I found an employee in German that was going to try and help a customer. So I wanted to know how long she was expected to be gone. So I asked, should I come back Monday? She didn't really seem to know or seem to care that I wanted to know. I lost that little bit of friendliness. So I smiled and left.

I went back on Wednesday, I gave Denise plenty of time to get better. This time the lady I talked to told me Denise wasn't there but would be there tomorrow at 10. She said a lot of stuff and she sort of lost me, but all I knew was that I could finally have a haircut with Denise tomorrow at 10. (also thanksgiving day, not a holiday here) Even though that was Thanksgiving day and I had a lot of work to do, plus I had to travel for an hour and half on trains carrying my 30 twice baked potatoes, I was determined to get my hair cut.

The next morning I put my potatoes in the oven and left my husband in charge of watching potatoes bake, while I road downtown to get 6 inches of damaged hair chopped off. I get to the salon and there is my stylist! There is Denise! The girl I've been waiting for! The stylist that can make my hair look amazing!!! I get there and she asks me if I had made an appointment. I think back to that conversation that I had yesterday, where the girl had said something about tomorrow at 10. Oh no I was late, had I missed my appointment? So I tell that story to her. She asks if I had just called to make an appointment at 10:30. Oh no I guess not. I didn't miss my appointment. Denise asks me if I can come back at 11. Yes definitely. Potatoes can wait, Thanksgiving can wait, I don't care, I finally have an appointment with Denise.

So I walk around downtown, come back for my appointment and wait. A few minutes after 11 a girl comes over and calls out my name, well something like my name, because she has no idea how to say this English name. So I think oh she must want to wash my hair so Denise can cut my hair. She sits me down in a chair in front of a mirror, just like Denise used to do and asks, "How much do you want off?" Reluctantly I told her what I wanted. I tried to stay optimist thinking Denise is the only German that's cut your hair, maybe this one will be amazing too. I watched her, and she did the same stuff as Denise, but it didn't turn out the same. Apparently somewhere in my conversation with Denise I failed say, "I want YOU to cut my hair." So this Thanksgiving I'm thankful for my lousy haircut.

P.S. despite the hair cut, I had an amazing Thanksgiving with other Americans living here in Germany. I'm thankful for so much!

Knives Bibles, what's the difference?

Since we live in Germany we do a lot of flying. So you would think by this time we would be awesome at it. Well we're not. I'm terrified of flying and Z (yeah that's my husbands new "blog name") is just a disaster when it comes to getting through security. He might as well be wearing a turban around his head. Like last September my parents were driving us to the airport. We started talking about all the times Z has gotten away with flying with a pocket knife that's on his key chain. In fact last May he somehow got me to carry his keys in my purse. I didn't discover them till we were entering America and in the middle of going through the strenuous and thorough process of getting through the American customs. I was digging around in my purse and my hands felt Z's keys-with the pocket knife still intact.

At this point we are standing around to reclaim our baggage so it could go back through more security. I'm a bit panicked, because apparently I'm as dangerous as terrorist at this point. We decided to huddle together and get the knife off the keys and smuggle the 2 inch knife into our luggage. I know what you're thinking these two are rebells. Yeah, we are. Some missionaries smuggle Bibles into other countries, we smuggle weapons into America. Not really something we can really use in a church presentation.

So back to September, when we're flying back to Germany. We're teasing Z about the pocket knife. And even asked him if he had remembered to take the knife off of his key chain. He assured us he had. We got to the airport, checked our luggage in, said our sad goodbyes to my parents. Stood in line to go through security. I start taking my shoes off and Z pulls out his keys, which had of course the pocket knife on it!

Make lots of mistakes

All week I've been working on translating my resume into German and making it perfect. Some of my friends even helped me look it over, made sure it was the way it needed to be. My goal yesterday was to drop my resume off at three different places where I thought I could be an english tutor. Everyone told me this will be an easy job for you to secure. Not really something I'm super interested in, but it seemed like a reasonable job for me.

November is an especially horrible time of the year. It's cold and it rains a lot. So yesterday it was raining, but it wasn't especially cold. So I carefully put the copies of my resume in my purse, hopped on my bike and went down town. I was actually not as wet as I'd thought I would be and checked myself in a mirror at one of the shops. So I went to the first place. As I was walking there I recited to myself what I need to say in German. I told myself I was going to be friendly and smile which is what Americans do best. Well this American is horrible at that. I can fake it in English, but German, uhg. The place had a doorbell with a speaker attached. This surprised me. I imagined all my conversations being face to face. So I took an extra second to ring the door bell. To my relief they just buzzed me in and I didn't have to have a dreaded conversation with the doorbell. I climbed the dark steps up to the second floor, nervous because I wasn't sure were to go. Opened the heavy door and walked in. I wasn't sure how this should go. So told the lady I was here looking for a job as an English tutor. Things went ok there. I was not friendly as planned. In fact I probably looked more like a deer looking into headlights. My voice even quivered a little. She said maybe in January they would have something available.

So off to the second place. The rain picked up. So I pulled out my umbrella. As I walked across town it became especially windy. I was surrounded by several other people with umbrellas and it seemed as if I'm the only one struggling to keep my umbrella facing the right way. Several times my umbrella would go inside out, several times I would stop to fix it look around. Finally I decided it wasn't worth it, it was just making it harder to walk with it catching the wind. So five minutes later I arrived at the second place. I tried to fix my hair and hoped that I didn't look like the wet dog that I felt like. Ring the scary doorbell that may or may not talk back to me. Get buzzed in and wonder up the stairs looking for the right door.

I found the office and the man was on the phone, so I waited in the hall. When he was done he came to greet me and I meekly told him why I was there. It was awful. I felt like I was being laughed at by him. I didn't do a good job of making him believe I would be a good tutor. He asked me if I knew about the German school system. Now that in of it's self is a very complicated question. I've been told about the German school system about a bazillion times and I think I do understand it. (And please don't tell me about it again. It's very boring!) But I wasn't sure what he meant by the question. So I hesitantly said yes. Anyways I felt like the whole time the guy was laughing at me. It was awful! Awful! I feel like I failed. But you know what? I know German. I was able to reply to everything he asked me. I understood everything he asked me. So what is my problem??? If I would have confidently told him that I can teach others English because it's my mother language and as I've learned German I have also learned more about English. I have my bachelors degree and he should definitely hire me. The scared doe eyes didn't do me any favors yesterday. I didn't make it to the third place. I freaked out. I failed. I'm not sure if I can even get a job in Germany. Maybe I need to work on other aspects of my German. Confidence being the big one.

I failed at getting a job yesterday, but the best advice I've ever gotten about learning another language is, you must make mistakes. If I don't make mistakes it's probably because I'm not pushing myself to my limit. So yesterday I failed, I made lots of mistakes, but that's what I'm supposed to do.

So are you guys perfectionists? How do you get past it?

An Outsider

After living here for almost 3 years a lot has changed. I used to stare at the people around me and look at their clothes. I once saw an American that was wearing something that I thought was just over the top European. Shorts with tights. I said to my husband, "She's been in Europe too long."

If you look at home decor at a store you'll see a lot of orange and red...together. I was thinking of putting a photo of a rug with those color combinations but I couldn't find one that looked strange to me anymore. In fact I was about to write that I will never be able to get used to that color combination, but here I am looking at orange and red rugs and thinking that wouldn't look so bad in my living room.

When I went back to America this summer I know I stood out. It was the end of May. In Germany it was still fairly cool. And in fact it stays relatively cool all summer. So it had been several years since I had had a proper hot summer. So one of my first nights back, my friend mentioned that she was going to a softball game. I asked if I could go with her. What's more American than softball? So I was ready for my american experience. I show up at her house wearing black boots, skinny jeans t-shirt, and a lightweight cardigan. She's wearing a strapless shirt, shorts, and flip flops. We got to the game and guess who was dressed appropriately? Well lets see it was about 85 degrees. So obviously not me. But at the same time I wasn't about to show off my legs that hadn't had a proper tan for two years.

(above) My hot summer day outfit

(below) My friend's outfit

For the past couple years I'd made an effort to dress nicer when I go out. In Germany, my jeans that had "stylish" holes in it were looked at oddly. So I had gotten used to wearing the clothes I used to just wear to church everyday. The whole summer I know I stood out when I'd go to wal-mart or some other casual function, because in 3 short months I couldn't get this mentally out of my head. And to be honest I didn't want to. I feel like an outsider here in Germany and now I even feel like an outsider back in the US. But I'm fairly happy in Germany and I feel like this is my home now. So if I stand out in America it's because I live here now. If I stand out here it's because I'm from America. I'm a confused pale girl now.

As I'm writing this I'm having a hard time remembering what is strange looking anymore. In fact I've even worn tights with shorts. Apparently I've been in Europe for too long.

Ich Heike...ich heiße...What?!?!?

Shortly after we landed in Germany, we learned a new simple phrase. "Ich heisse ..." So "My name is..." Wow, what progress. That Sunday we went to church thinking we were ready for anything. We knew how to say What's up in German and my name is... What more could we need? We get to the door. The greeter knew we were the Americans so she greeted us with "Ich Heike..." And we looked at her waiting for her to finish the sentence with her name. So she kept saying it. Ich Heike..." And we kept waiting for her to finish the sentence. This went on for a short eternity before we all gave up and went into the sanctuary. We were confused, she was frustrated. After church we asked someone what that ladies name was. Apparently her name was Heike, not heisse. She was trying to make it simpler for us by just saying "I Heike"

For the six months that we lived in that went to that church all of our conversations with her went about that way.

First Night in Germany

When I first came here in 2005 I thought there was some really weird stuff. Z and I got picked up from the airport. I was so excited. I had waited 6 years for this day. That's a long time to a 22 year old. I had just finished college and was finally able to do what I dreamed of. This was it. We ate dinner then were dropped off at the house of the people we would be staying with for the next month. The high school girl that was with us told us that we would be staying with two older women. So I had this idea of two sweet gray haired older women. When we arrived at the apartment I was shocked to see that the apartment was decorated super modern. The couch was a bright red half circle. They had modern art on the walls.

This weird Pharaoh bust.

This is what old people decorate their houses like in Germany???

I was really jet lagged and tired. I still hadn't met our hosts and was told they wouldn't be home till really late, so we should just go to bed. So we did. We were exhausted. I slept till late into the night and then was wide awake in a very dark room. I had no idea what time it was either. I didn't even know whose house I was even at. That's when I started to cry. This is what jet lag does to you. It sucks. I was suddenly homesick for a place that I was at only 30 hours before. I still remember the fear and loneliness and realizing other than Z everyone that loves me is on the other side of the globe. No one in Europe loves me. This thought paralyzed me. I still think that's a horrible feeling. It didn't take long before I had friends. People I'm still friends with and visit from time to time. But for me that's some of the worst part of culture shock. The intense loneliness and the inablitity to break out of my shell.

After a while Z woke up. He asked me what was wrong and I told him how scared I was. I don't know what happened between the time that I was alone in my thoughts and when Z woke up, but we ended up laughing. The type of laughter that can only be experienced late at night. We laughed hard. We stayed up for another hour talking and laughing. And if our hostesses, which we still had not met heard this, then I'm sure they must have wondered what they had gotten themselves into and who these strange americans were in the other room.

Oh and the little old ladies with the crazy modern style ended up being in their late twenties early thirties. Apparently to the high schooler that was really old.

No I don't want your socks

Way back in October of 2005 I came to Germany on an internship. My German pretty much consisted of:
"I don't speak German."
"Can you speak English"
and whatever else the German CDs taught me. So one day when Z and I were exploring our town we wondered into what we thought was a small shop. It turned out to be a huge 3 or 4 story department store. German shops can do that to you. You think you're walking into a small store but then find out it goes on and on. So we finally came to the top floor of this massive place. We had done a pretty good job of sneaking by everyone else and not being talked to, but this last floor was much less crowded.

So in the sock department our worst fears came true, a lady approached us and spoke to us in German! We stood there for a second not sure what to do. I looked at Z to do something. He's the much braver of us two. So he used one of the few phrases that we knew. "Ich spreche kein Deutsch." (I don't speak German.) This ensued all kinds of panic. The lady alerted all of her coworkers around that we didn't speak German. Was there anyone that could speak English. At this point we were dying to run out of that building. We had no interest in actually buying socks. We just wanted to see if German socks looked the same as american socks. We were relived to find out that yes their socks are pretty much the same.

So finally they found someone who spoke English. She came over to us and asked. "Can I help you?" To which we replied,"No we're just looking." That was it. We left. After that we were much more cautious about what stores we entered.

Yes "Socks for You" is an actual name of a store.

I'm not complaining, but...

So did you know that in America you don't have to open windows in the winter time to let the moisture out? Oh you did. Well then did you know that in the rest of the world you have to constantly be worried about the humidity in the house and be fearful of mold growing behind your furniture? So we have to wake up in the mornings and open our windows for at least 10 minutes a day or who knows what would happen. I'd probably be deported or something. And if you want to take a shower, who knows how long it would take to get all the moisture out of there if the mirror steamed up.

Rain, snow, heat, doesn't matter! Open the window! This was pure torture to me at first! I spent the first 6 months with my ridiculously bright green coat on. I also wasn't aware that everyone in Germany wore only black or varying shades of gray. But I want to inform you that I've adjusted to all of that. So you can not accuse me of complaining. Well sort of. Like now my favorite colors are black, gray, and white. Instead of just walking around with a coat on, I've learned just wear one tank top, 3 layers of long johns, a hand knitted sweater made by grandma, but please grandma only black thread, then top that off with a scarf and then you hardly miss not having a coat on indoors. Yes it does take about ten minutes to get all the layers on, and yes I can't move my arms as freely as I want to, but it's so nice to be able to shed all those layers when spring gets here look in the mirror and think, man I look good. I look like I lost 10 pounds. This is what I have to look forward to every spring.

But seriously it's just the beginning of October. What am I going to do? Can't wait to be wearing my black down coat that makes me look like a giant burnt marshmallow.

Ok here's a tricky question. Can you find me in this photo? And for a million bonus points where am I?