How people see you

My left ear, the right one looks much the same,
apart from being on the other side of my head...

When I was about 13 and had never even had a single thought in my head about my ears, I was told they looked like cauliflower ears by a class mate (the same one that would scream if she saw the teensiest spider crawling on her desk, like a really miniscule harmless spider). I wondered what she meant by that and when I looked in the mirror, I still didn't really understand. My ears didn't look anything like cauliflowers. 

I still don't think much about my ears and still don't think they look like cauliflowers.

Blue!

When I was about 19 I was told by a colleague that I had beautiful grey eyes. The fact he said they were beautiful was fantastic. The grey part not so much, as my eyes are very much blue. Perhaps not navy blue or periwinkle blue, but they are blue nonetheless.

A few years ago I kept hearing (nobody ever said it directly to my face) that I was fat. Well, this I knew to be a downright lie, as I was proportionally overweight. In the end though, I had to concede the fact that actually proportionally overweight is only a nice way of telling yourself that you are in fact FAT. Those whispers behind my back were true. I am now working on losing the fat by eating less and moving more.

Light blonde, but I was only 5 at the time.

Then recently a friend told me that my hair was brown and that I did not have any grey. When I told my mum about that blatant untruth, she said that in fact, my hair was brown (no mention of the grey). No no no no! I have never had brown hair, so the first time this year I could make it to the hairdresser my most important question was: what is the colour of my hair?

She put me at ease: my hair is very much not brown. It's middle to dark blonde (which I thought) and some of the grey is starting to show, but only slightly as my hair is middle to dark blonde and NOT brown!

It was dyed...

And as for my name! Anybody will recognise it. Being called something you most certainly aren't called and wondering do I look like a Tamara or Barbara or even Gabrielle? And yes, people have called me those names over the years. 

So, if you ever meet me: I am a dark blonde (with grey starting to show slightly), blue eyed, still overweight but working on it, normal eared woman called Mara. 

Me, myself and I

July 2012, at the Navy Days

Last February I started to take a photo of myself on the first of the month. And then every month after that. I started off with a real chubby face back in February and right now I can definitely see I have lost weight. 

November 2013, at a staff Christmas party

However, I felt that only starting in February was a bit strange really. After all there are plenty of photos of me and if I could find one for each month, I could really see the changes in me. Not only weight wise, but hairstyle wise as well! 

July 2016, during a hike

Over the past ten years, I have had red, blonde and mousey hair. It has been short, medium, long, short again. And then long again and short again. Up and down, like a yo-yo. The glasses have remained more or less the same, as I know what style I like (the new ones are going to be a bit of a change).

August 2015, at the climbing park with Pepperfly

But, what I also found is what fun I had. With colleagues, friends and family. Here, there and everywhere. Then I looked at the last couple of years and what was missing? Right, the fun. Yes, it was there when I spent time with my sister back in NI, but especially the photos I took since February are quite soulless. 

January 2011, playing silly

It needs to change. Last night my father said why not join a choir. I wonder if he has heard of this little thing called Corona. Mind you, I am back at work again and have joined the staff club. Which can't do much right now either, but there will come a day...

December 2012, BORING!

I also started walking again, getting out there in nature, doing things. Which has to make better photos than the door! So, from the coming month, there will only be photos taken out and about or with other people. No more boring ones in front of the door.

Sorting

My ballroom test for Gold star. 

Over the past six years I have moved several times and each time I have thrown lots of stuff out. And when I say lots, I mean lots. One thing however that I never really touched were papers. Not newspapers, but my own paperwork. 

I felt it was time though to sort through that. And I found some treasures along the way. Class photos where I recognise one person (ie me), report cards saying I have to do better in the neatness of my writing (got there eventually), high school diploma. I have my baptism program, my vaccination booklet, my swimming diploma. 

Apart from myself, I might be able to name one other person: the teacher!

I scanned a lot and threw some of it out after scanning. Other stuff I kept though. It may not be the way things are done now (with the paperwork I mean), but it gives me an idea how it was done back then. Everything left now is contained in a small green container instead of a jumble in a large tin box!

Along the way I also found coloured pens I never use, empty note books which will come in handy as I now always grab a sheet of paper from the printer and cd roms. Who uses those anymore? Not me that's for sure! 

My name badge when working for Club Med

I also found a French social security number for me. I didn't even know I had one, which is rather silly as I worked on a French contract for 6 months in France. Mind you, I worked in Italy on an English contract and in Yugoslavia on a Swiss contract. Anyway, I think I will keep that note with the number, you never know if I have some pension due in due time. 

The three month mark

Full of hope

I had a little look back at what I did within my first three months in Norway. A country where I hardly spoke the language, barely understood anybody and where everything was completely new to me.

Here goes: a union meeting, dentist, accident & emergency (not necessary wanted, but hey), union party, an interview for the paper, another union meeting, a staff meeting. I went on walks and met a lot of colleagues at work.

What did you do?

So, what have I been doing in my first three months in Northern Ireland? Where I speak the language and understood most people most of the time.

I have worked. Worked. Worked. Worked. Worked. Worked. Been to some caves. Worked. Worked. Worked. Worked. Worked. Moved. Worked. Worked. Worked. Worked. Butterfly garden. Worked. Worked. Worked. Got the car MOT'ed. Worked. Worked. Worked. Worked. Worked. Oh, and I worked.

My head is nowhere near the sand!

Needless to say, something has to give. And as I don't want it to be me, I have decided it has to be the job. I am on an average of over 55 hours a week and I am tired and lonely, even with my sister so close. I have had no chance to meet anybody at all or join a club or something like that.

I will keep you posted, but let's just say, I hope the next three months will be better than the first three. 

Right...

Around 1981

Work day today. No, not driving a bus, but cleaning, clearing and sorting. I hung the washing up to dry, I cleaned the litterbox, I emptied and filled the dishwasher (isn't that a wonderful invention?) and I finished sorting the first box. Then I had some tense moments with my printer, which I wanted to throw out of the window at some point. I did refrain myself however and got it to work eventually.

The Rocky Horror Show, 1992

I was planning to make 'beschuit', a type of Dutch breakfast biscotti, but it turned out I had everything but yeast. So, I need to get yeast before being able to make any. Brownies are a good alternative though (I think) and tomorrow is another day.

Around 1995

I just checked how far I had come with the books and my maternal side is 42 (without contemporary stories) and my paternal side is over 60 (with contemporary stories) pages. I had ordered some information about three family members, but got a notice the day before yesterday that before they could handle my request I needed to pay for an earlier request. It had arrived around the time of my sudden move last year and I had completely forgotten about it. I payed and I hope they are dealing with it now. 

2003

Other than that my days are lazy days. I read a bit, I sew a bit (will show soon) and I do a bit of nothing. My friend is in Norway of course, but she has her own plans, although a plan we have together is something I have wanted to do for a long time: sledding! We have to drive inland for that, but according to a colleague who lives there, there are plenty of places we can go without having to walk for 5 kilometers first (and on the return as well).

Me

After spending the morning in my pj's, I decided this afternoon I was going to be a bit more productive with my time. So, I cleared three more levels in Candy Crush and then started sorting photos. Like the proper ones! I found lots and lots of the five monsters that came before Miss Oswin, but since they are all scanned in, I decided to throw them away. I still have the negatives, which take up a bit less room!

Then I found lots of photos of yours truly. On the dance floor, holding babies, looking into the distance, listening attentively and of me holding a large stuffed gnome. Don't ask, I have no answer! And then, in order to actually post something sensible (ahem), I thought I would show you some of them today and they will probably pop up over the next few days as well. Just so you know...

Of course the first one is quite clearly me. It's taken in my maternal grandmother's bathroom. She did not have a shower when I grew up, but she did have one of those super large granite sinks. The seond one is also taken at my maternal grandmother's, but about a bit later. Note the yellow tupperware cup!

The third photo is my official 1986(?) school photo. I knitted that sweater myself. And then the next to last photo is of me looking through some serious equipment. It was on a bird watching tour and at that moment we were looking at (according to the text on the back of the photo) the red breasted goose.

The last one of course must be the gnome. I remember vaguely when and where it was taken (around 1989 in the textile museum in Enschede, the Netherlands), but other than that: nothing!

Hello!

When we go on those hiking/walking trips, we both take photos. Even if we have been there before, we will take new photos of the same thing again. It means as well, that our trips usually take a bit longer because of all that photo taking. 

One plus of the both of us taking photos is that I get some photos of myself. I haven't got a nice and fancy phone with which I can take photos (shock, horror, but yes, it's true), so if I want to take a selfie it has to be done with a big cumbersome camera.

The first two photos were taken during the drizzle-trip. We came to a bridge and the water was just running down. I had a good rain suit on and stood underneath while my friend took several photos. The second one was taken a little later during that trip. For some reason I have my eyes closed. 

The third photo shows me at the beginning of the no-drizzle-trip. Well wrapped up, but the hat came off within ten minutes, as did the gloves. The coat was opened and the scarf was loosened as well. And the last photo shows me walking from the photographer (Unni). It looks emptier than it was, because there were a lot of people about.

Dear body,

You have been pestering me with problems for several years now. In fact, I cannot remember a time when I didn't have headaches. Or needed a bowl underneath my bed in case of vomiting in the night. Recently they have been getting worse as well. All thanks to a shoulder/neck problem I thought I had gotten rid of years ago!

You gave me problems in my legs and abdomen, but I beat you there: I got myself looked at properly and before I knew it, I was operated on and gone were the problems (plus a few items that apparently turn me into a woman). But it did take time and a lot of frustration. 

I know I am not always the best in keeping you fit and healthy. I freely admit to that. What can I say, I like chocolate. And chips, cake and a lot of other stuff. But be honest here body, I do also love fruit and vegetables and will often go back for second helpings of those! 

I know I should start to work out again soon and I promise you body, I will. I will!! But when I cycle and you in turn think it funny to give me yet another headache, what is the plus side for me again? 

But what you did to me yesterday is nothing short of rotten! I can't put it any other way. And after I was so good as well! On Saturday I only had two small pieces of rib, a bit of sausage, a 'Medisterkake', 2 boiled potatoes and lots of red cabbage. And dessert of course. To drink I had one bottle of lemonade. And what did you do in return?

You gave me a hangover, that's what! Dry mouth, not enough sleep, feeling lousy, headache! Really? Is that it now? I do my best and you just do whatever you want? I cannot say I am very impressed with you right now and I do hope you will mend your ways and soon at that!

Yours truly,

me 💋

Notes to self...

February 1st, 2016

Note to self: when cutting a thread off your nearly finished sock, do be careful where you put the scissors. So you won't end up with a hole in your clothes. Mind you, the socks were okay!

September 7th, 2015

Note to self: when working with glue: don't run your fingers through your hair! (It is actually the only place the glue will stick, all the other things I wanted to stick together, keep coming apart!!)

March 24th, 2014

Note to self: when there is a plank in the middle of mud, use it. Otherwise you might end up ankle deep in mud!

July 31st, 2014

Two notes to self: 1. when buying a clock, make sure it doesn't tick too loud! 2. When going for a walk and there has been rain all day, make sure you bring an umbrella.

*Sigh*

July 27th, 2014

Note to self: don't do cartwheels at age 43

November 12, 2008

Note to self: check under the bed before closing the bedroom door, just in case one of the monsters has decided to hide under it!

...and that's the answer 6

Pain yes, crying no!

Murphy and Stanley wanted to know about what three words I would use to describe myself. And I really had to think about that one. 

I have always seen myself as a bit of a cry-baby, until I was told that in fact, I am not. I will continue doing what I do even when others would have long since thrown in the towel. Meaning I might not be as much of a cry-baby I always thought I was. 

I never really saw myself as adventurous. I just liked to see new things and meet new people and go new places. Is that adventurous? I would have said curious more than adventurous, but perhaps in my case they might be the same.

Christmas and knitting in one go.

I know that some people think me strange. I love Eurovision and war documentaries. I love Christmas and food programmes (just not Gordon Ramsey, Jamie Oliver or that awful Marco Pierre White who gives me the heebie jeebies). I love biathlon and knitting. I love the cinema and reading. 

I would like to be thought of as a writer. I know now that a novel might be beyond my grasp, but if I can write a story that others want to read, even if it is only about Miss Oswin and her dislike for snow, I feel that I am a writer.

I know for a fact that I am lazy. If I get the choice to go for a walk or sit in front of the computer/television, I choose the latter. If I get the choice to do the dishes/laundry/cleaning or sit in front of the computer/television, I choose the latter. I am always hopeful that some magic elves come out and do my housework and make me fit again. I think they might be stuck in that time machine in my basement. 

I would like others to think of me as loving. I love my friends and family, although I don't always show it in a good way. I certainly don't say it often enough. But I do. Love them I mean. As I told a friend recently, if I didn't, they wouldn't be in my life. Because over the years I have realised that even if you don't always see eye to eye about something, some people are better in than out, even with the differences.

Out of all those things, I think I would want to use the following words to really describe myself: adventurous, loving and writer. And I think that encapsulates most of what and who I am.

...and that's the answer 2

In Belgium

Another question was from Marie Smith who wanted to know where I got my spirit of adventure from. To be quite honest: I don't really know. I grew up in a stable household and I don't think there was much adventure there. However, from a young age, I have always wanted to be where I wasn't. That train that left the station? I wanted to be on it. Even if it only went tweny kilometers down the tracks to the next town and then came back! It was to somewhere I wasn't, it was to somewhere new. 

Adventures in 'how to loose your money and tell the police in Yugoslavia while very hungover'

Over the years, that wanting to go to somewhere else, somewhere new grew until I finally got the chance when I got a phone call from a friend of mine: she hated where she worked and wanted to go home. Unless I could come. I asked my parents, they said okay and off I went. To a place deep in Belgium where I had never been and where they spoke French! I didn't. I arrived by train and waited for my (Dutch) ride. Fifteen minutes, half an hour, an hour, and still I was sitting just outside that station. Finally after more than an hour and a half he showed. He had gone shopping before picking me up! Instead of picking me up and then going shopping!! Idi... Mor... Nincompoop!

In England

That really started my sense of adventure. I only stayed there for three weeks and really loved it. The year after, I made my way to Yugoslavia (as it was known back then) for six months. One month at home and three months in Brussels. Straight on to Sicily, Italy (7 months). One month at home before heading off to the French Alps (6 months), another month at home and then two and a half years in England, before finally moving back home.

In the Netherlands I worked for several temping agencies and did all sorts of low and unskilled jobs: cleaning, factories, kitchens and canteens. All through though, I (again) wanted more. I tried the army, but couldn't get in (too unfit) and then my father gave me the advice to try bus driving lessons. I passed on my second try, got a job at the first try, nearly lost my job over the amount of damages I had those first three months, but seventeen year later, I am still at it.

Adventures in 'snake wrangling'. 

I don't know what the future will hold for me. I hope there will be many more adventures, but where and what they will be? Your guess is as good as mine!

...and that's the answer 1

Wow, several really good questions and they require some really good answers of course. The first question was posed by Madi and her Mom and wonders about the name 'Brom'. What does it mean and where does it come from?

The Dutch word brom comes from the verb 'brommen' which basically means to growl. Not a menacing growl, more of a low rumbly growl. It also means to grumble, as in grumbling over the low temperature of the porridge for example. But I think Brom got his name because there is a word in the Netherlands "Brombeer". The first part meaning the grumble and the second part meaning bear. It is used for people who are a bit on the grumbly side. And Brom's full name is actually Brom Beer (Grumble Bear). Of course Brom is nowhere near being grumbly, being the nicest teddy you could imagine. And he loves to dress up and meeting new friends!

...that's the question

A few years ago I gave people the chance to ask me questions and I would (try to) answer each one. Sometimes I answered outright, other times I would refer to a post I had done earlier. Well, being a lazy so and so, I thought I would do so again, since there are so many new faces reading my blog. Of course you don't have to be a new face to ask a question, you faithful long-time readers are quite welcome to ask questions as well. 

So, is there something you want to know? You can ask anything (and I mean anything) and I will try and answer, although I do reserve the right to not answer of course. It is after all my blog. I will answer any questions in posts coming up (see how lazy I am: not wanting to think of what to write about and letting you do all the work?).

Get asking!

Photo taken in Verona, Italy in 1997

Bad day

Due to a seat I couldn't get adjusted, another seat that kept adjusting itself and a very very busy last bit of my shift, the area between my shoulders had started hurting. Which then travelled up to my head and stayed there. 

However, I really knew it was a bad day when I couldn't get the company car in gear. I tried and tried and was cursing and grumbling. I turned the engine off and on again and still nothing. 

Until I realised I had to actually use the clutch as well. That's when I really knew. 

Bad day!

PS: it rained all day as well...

I can do it myself!

Italy 1991

That's the problem with being an independent girl. You think you can do everything yourself. Until you find you can't. Be it dealing with the hanging of lamps, getting rid of pain or dealing with major upheavals, sometimes you just need help!

With Camille (lap) and Jean

When I was growing up and told my parents what I wanted to be or more precisely where I wanted to be it (au-pair in England), it wasn't looked upon as a good thing for me as I was a bit too young and still too dependent. So, I didn't become an au-pair in England (got to be one in Brussels, Belgium a few years later though). 

It might not have won any beauty contests,
but my sister and I made this ourselves!

My second home lacked some lighting and shelving I liked, so I asked my dad to come and help me out. Very happy with the lighting and the shelves were only a tiny bit off. But not enough to let the books slip off, so it was okay.

Moving to another country means that as independent as you are, you will need some help at some point. From packing to getting rid of stuff, from help finding a new place to dealing with all the red tape.

I definitely needed help coming down this
rock slide!

Dealing with a major upheaval (like the move, the accident, the operation) can mean a major upheaval in your head as well and instead of doing it alone, being independent, I decided I needed some professional help to deal with it all. 

I can do it myself. But having help from friends and family and on occasion strangers is the best thing to independence. As long as you can choose when to get help and don't have it thrusted on you and it smothering you. 

This post is prompted by Spin Cycle. Thank you Ginny Marie at Lemon Drop Pie.