Lost on highway

April 24th, 2010

The miracle finally happened: I’m alone! Alone in my back yard at least. In my head there’s Intwine, in my neighbor’s backyard there is a group of workmen tearing up the roof to build a dormer. Every now and then the tree hovering over me sends a shower of dried little somethings down, landing in most peculiar places. Think I’ll have to find the latent tree kids later on in my dress.

These last weeks have been busy. Let’s see what is entertaining to share hmmm…

Ah right, the encounter with the policeman. Or was that more about getting lost on the highway? Anyway, here I was, getting up at 6.40 AM as usual. First thing to do is feed the cats. Yes, the same cats that have been mewing at my door in the middle of a nice sleep. Cats that get you to open the back door, only to close it again after the wannabe tigers slink back indoors again, afraid of the light. Repeat this three times. While drinking fresh orange juice, I then check my online game and mail, plus Twitter. Aye, I’m a Twittering tweet and I like it!

Of course time flies when you don’t have it, so off to the shower. There even more time flies, down the drain this time, but I really couldn’t care less. The shower is my hero, my savior, my life giver, returner of energy and creativity. Don’t even mentioning the way it brings my totally unruly bunch of silly sticking-to-all-sides thin hair back in line (read: downwards) in 2 seconds.

On to getting dressed. Pulling open the wardrobe door is easy. Trying to decide what to wear is a whole different matter. I sit on my bed, stare and dream. One ensemble after the other races through my brains. A dress it will be, with boots. Downstairs for two breakfast chocolate cookies and warm milk, while preparing a lunch bag. Dutchies eat bread, in case you didn’t know that. Preferably whole wheat bread with cheese. But I prefer herb cream cheese with smoked salmon any time! Sometimes you simply have to spoil yourself.

As if feeding the cats isn’t enough, there are two cat toilets claiming the attention of my nose. I won’t go into that, as I don’t know if you had breakfast yet. But years and years of daily practice make this an easy chore. What’s next? Getting the hell out of the door, since I’m already late of course. My little green car practically jumps onto the street, eager to get some exercise. One street, the roundabout, onto the highway…

Weird, all signs are on, maximum speed 50 kilometers. I’m already rolling my eyes, expecting the worst but hoping for the best. Please, PLEASE no traffic jam. It’s 10 kilometers to my work by the way. By what way? By the fastest way. I keep to the left side of the highway and nimbly dodge the first exit. The second one is mine, not even 1,5 kilometers from my house. Well no bloody way. There’s a big red X above the lane to the exit I need to take. I mean, I really need to take it, ‘cause I haven't the foggiest idea how to get to work in another high-way. The routes that lead through the city are totally jammed in the mornings.

Stay calm Mar, I whisper to myself. This is so silly that I turn up the volume so I won’t hear my own whispering.  Ever so slowly I pass the cars that are waiting on the long exit, wondering what to do. They seem to be moving. That is, if you watch long enough. Two policemen on motor bike in neat but blinding yellow outfits are chatting on the lane next to the line. Nearing the end of the exit I see an opening and dive in. Alright, reached second base and want to get to work. So drive argh. One meter into the right direction, my singing gets louder.

What’s that? What now? What?? One of the policemen decides to finally do something. There are a lot of practical and sensible things a police officer can do you know. Catching thieves, saving helpless maidens in distress, or being an endless source of entertainment for cats-in-trees. But noooo, this one decides to maneuver his bike right in front of my car! With big blue eyes I stare through the window. One hand stretched out, palm towards me, the other points back to the highway. Meanwhile the car in front of me sneaks a bit further down the exit. Shit! The expression on my face gets blonder and blonder by sheer concentration. I don’t WANT to go back on the highway man, I need this exit! The man stares at me and points a second time. I start to shake my head, lifting my hands in a helpless gesture. Third time he points and starts glaring. Well mister, I’m glaring back and point to the exit. If this doesn’t help, I shout that I don’t know the way. Do I need to tell that three  seconds later I’m pulling up the highway again, muttering and cursing? A whole line of cars waiting and the man decides to jump in front of MY car? Hmmm I must be really special  In the rear view mirrow I see more cars pulling out the exit.

Cruising the highway once again, I realize I’m driving down the same road I take when visiting my parents in the south-east of the Netherlands. Time for louder music. Nice blue road signs tell me I’m on my way to Eindhoven. Pardon me? I don’t want to go to Eindhoven! I need to get back to my own town for Pete’s sake. And my own sake. Plus my coworkers’ sake! Damn. 16 kilometers and another little traffic jam later I see a sign with the name of the desired destination on it. Down the exit I go again, straight into another traffic jam. But that’s good, I tell myself. Where the hell am I?

I stealthily take out my cell phone while keeping an eye out for stray police officers, and punch in the number of the university. Karen answers the phone. ‘Karen,’ I yell, ‘I have no idea where I am!’. Laughter greets me from the other side. ‘Well, I don’t know either,’ she says calm, ‘what happened?’. So I give her the nasty policeman story. Seems a truck had decided to take a break and get some rest on its side. That particular road was totally blocked. Why didn’t the police take action sooner then, in stead of waiting for a line of 1 kilometer of cars getting stuck on the exit? Not my problem at that moment, bigger problem was to reach my destination. ‘What do you see Mar, describe the buildings to me?’, Karen’s voice interfered with my logistic solutions for the area. So I told her names of firms, waiting cars (just to annoy her a bit), and finally I spotted yet another big building to the left. In fact it looked kind of familiar! She started laughing and said ‘If I’m not mistaken, you are very near to the uni!’. Well hurrah, that would be marvelous.

The line of cars reaches the traffic light and, following Karen's orders, I take a left turn onto a wide road with people who all want to go to work; or at least need to. My lips curl into a big smile when indeed I see familiar surroundings. Singing loudly I proceed and park my car in the uni’s parking lot. Safe at last. And it wasn’t even 9 AM. On my way in I bump into René and pull his long black pony tail. He's growling about traffic and we exchange our stories. Seems he had been waiting in the long line on the exit I was chased off for over half an hour. In the end I was the lucky one!

And now ladies and gents, it’s time for lunch. Soon there will be a new Drieskes story.

Coming back to life

March 18th, 2010

Is this real? Is this really happening? Wrapped in a warm coat, fake fur snuggled up my neck, I’m sitting in my favorite spot of the back yard: my porch swing. Laptop’s where it’s supposed to be, my two cats exploring the outside after a long and cold winter. Of course they know every inch of the garden, having lived with me for over 5 years now. Still they jump at sudden movements, act like sneaking tigers with imaginary preys. Then suddenly they throw themselves down onto the warm pebbles to make funny noises with their paws in the air.

The sun hasn’t reached the swing yet, but is warming my legs in a wonderful way. Do the plants need trimming? I have no idea, they hide in their sticklike form since the fall stole away all their greens. Next to me is a lilac tree, that I planted myself as a wee young sibling. Reaching over two meters now, it dwarfs it mistress. Buds  are swelling on the slender branches, a promise of life prolonged and new life coming  into existence.

What a glorious feeling, being outside. Have been locked up in my house for almost two weeks now. Sensitive is my middle name. Sensitive for lots of things, like perfume, preservatives, for leather paint, glue. And once a year my body decides to develop a respiratory infection. I have no idea why it does that. Perhaps to make me aware of my mortality? Or to see me gasp for air in the middle of sleepless nights? I don’t know and I don’t care. I only want it to go away, and soon too. Codeine pills are the only thing that help against the wish of my lungs to turn inside out over a longer period of time. My head feels like a cotton ball, lazily suppressing concern over the work piling up.

Intermezzo: Ninja is making weird sounds and tries to get rid of something. Luckily he’s outside. Bandit is checking him out now… seems his friend is OK. Perhaps Ninja also has a cotton ball, but not in his head. A butterfly flutters its wings past my hands on the keyboard.

If it weren’t for a friend's text message, I’d be still inside with the heater on. She wrote that she was basking in the sun, gathering energy and didn’t want to do anything else anymore. Thanks Sandra, for sharing this with me. I wouldn’t want to miss this for the world: the first spring day. Yes ladies and gents, spring is back! Is it true what they say, that the sun gives vitamines to us? If so, then how many inches of skin must be touched by the golden light? Well, there's no room for scientific approach of this matter today. Armed with my notebook I simply have to be outside and feel the gentle breeze caressing my cheeks. The back door is wide open to let in oxygen and get rid of the winter’s dust. I don’t need music out here. The birds are singing, spreading the message of a world that’s about to blossom. Time for laughter, time for love, time for spring.

ID on a broken bike

February 18th, 2010. What a day this turned out to be!

Any thoughts of going to work dissolved into thin air when I felt the cold on my skin this morning. Vman left early and I turned around, searching for his warm spot in bed. Nope, the uni would have to wait another day. Since nobody else is at our academy, I had already doubts if I would make it this week. Carnival in the south of the Netherlands.

Around noon I asked my eldest son to function as wake-up call for youngest one. Of course he obliged happily. Nothing more fun than teasing a younger brother. Whacking poor sleeping Sean over the head, he stamped upwards to the attic, leaving a slightly rumpled young man who was trying to open his eyes. A shower helped.

After his breakfast and my lunch we set out to first take Sean's bike for repairs to the bicycle shop. It was better to say what still worked than what did not. Then we would order a new passport plus ID, after which Sean was due at the hairdresser's. His wild manes reached halfway his nose. Plus I had fullfilled my earlier threat of making him a pony tail. Then he suddenly agreed to the hair cutting operation.

We were nearing the shop, when suddenly I thought of the paperwork needed for the new identification documents. We had taken the necessary snapshots, but totally forgot to take the papers and his old ID. Setback number one. Marching on we came upon a closed door: lunch break. Sean and me stared at each other and I let out a scream which made him chuckle. There we were with the non-working bike.

Alright, nothing is unsolvable. Just a quick stop at the postoffice to get money. Bzzz bzzz did the machine, but all seemed to be functioning normal. It seemed. The damn thing ate my card! I could see the edge and tried to pry it out but to no avail. Scream number two started to rise. Then the postoffice manager came out to see what the ruckus was about. With the words "Whatever you do, stay calm," he disappeared back in. A small crowd was forming behind my back. After 5 minutes he came out with my card, hurrah. 

From that point on things went smoother. We did some grocery shopping and decided on pizza. Plus cookies. Half an hour early we reached the hairdresser. And guess what, Sean could sit down immediately. I got some tea and read a magazine. It's so nice hearing his 15-year old voice go down all the time, turning into a man's voice. I kept far from the cutting business. He's old enough to tell Daniëlle what he wants. Result: slightly shorter hair with wax, but still it was messy enough for him to like it. 

On our way home we stopped at the bakery to buy bread and some rolls. Things went rather smoothly after all. Tomorrow morning it's back to passport business for Sean.

Dentist

Every half year a colorful card falls on my doormat. It always lands so the merry image shows and the text is hidden. Whenever I pick up the little card, my happy surprise soon changes in abhorrence. Yes, the dentist check up.

Today was the set date. The dentist's office is about 200 meters from my house, so I leave at the latest possible moment. Armed with my book, chin up, eyes determined, I stepped into the room, where Anja, his (very nice and friendly) assistant was already waiting. Small talk, lots of small talk to divert the nerves.

"Marion, you may step through," the Man-In-White says with a smile. "Right," I mutter, and slide into the chair. Blue rubber gloves and special magnifying glasses that could easily be used as a super lens for a camera, suddenly appear in my visual. The comfortable chair changes with a soft buzzing into a miniature operating table. Horizontally stretched out, I obediently open my mouth in the sunny light of a huge lamp. Here we go.

Carefully he checks every tooth with hammer and drill... uhm I mean with a little mirror and hook. No matter what he does, I won't move a muscle. Tip: never give away if something hurts by grimacing, because then your fate is sealed. Left under inside, front, right under inside, back along the outside. Then up, up, up the teeth he goes. Meanwhile he's talking to Anja about another client. "Keep talking man," I think, "keep talking and don't mind me!".

Suddenly he stretches, nods and then tells me everything is fine. I can't believe my ears but won't take any chances on a sudden change of mind. Nimbly I hop from the chair, almost getting myself hooked around the arm rest. At safe distance from the dentist, my joking abilities suddenly return. Pfew, what a relief!

Safe for another six months...

Wee lil' thing

Ready to upload my new design to the server, I needed to do 'a wee lil' thing': set a password. Well, after succeeding in adding the password, the access to my database has flown out of the closed window.
Even a system recovery to yesterday's dates wasn't fixing the problem. Am at a loss for ideas right now.

Damn.

Evening at the uni

Thursday, it's Thursday. This means working 'till 9 PM at the Academy. Does that sound bad?

Well don't worry, actually it's quite nice! The kids like it 'cause that means it's pizza and fries night. The students like it because they can ask me silly, sweet and complicated questions. The professors like it too as they can also ask my advice.

Then how about me?

Soft music, being able to work in peace and quiet most times. Outside it's dark but inside the lamps envelop me with a clear light. Mails disappear as fingers fly over the keyboard. Sometimes all pieces of the puzzle come together in a brilliant idea, converting that idea to an Excel document. Yes, I love my Thursday evenings...

But it's even better when I finally come home and put my feet up. 

Winter fairy land

No words needed...