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.