Memorial Day in Margraten

There was an American and Dutch flag
at the foot of every grave

Today is Memorial Day and as such, we spent yesterday doing what is becoming an annual tradition: attending a ceremony at an United States war cemetery. Last year we were at Flanders Field right here in Belgium. Since then we've visited the American Cemetery in Luxembourg and the hallowed grounds of Normandy so yesterday found us in the Netherlands at the cemetery in Margraten. And while visiting an American war cemetery is a humbling experience any time of the year, being there during a remembrance ceremony is beyond moving. It is a reminder of the sacrifices that have, and continue to be made, by our soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines in the name of liberty and freedom and it is something that must not be taken lightly. Regardless of how one feels about war, these men (and women) gave their lives so others could enjoy the freedoms we do today. And that was readily apparent when standing in the hilly and tranquil expanse of eastern Netherlands.

While we've visited many cemeteries and attended even more remembrance ceremonies, yesterday's was different. Perhaps it was because with over 8,300 marked graves the cemetery is large. Or maybe it is because World War II is actually recent history and veterans who fought in the War stood among us. Perhaps it is because of the the ongoing gratitude for the liberating army that is still expressed by the Dutch. This gratitude is demonstrated in part through the Dutch (and to a lesser extent German and Belgian) families who have adopted each and every grave. Adopted families care for the graves, visit and leave flowers and in many cases, have developed personal relationships with the families of the deceased who are unable to actually see their loved one's graves in person. Some of the adoptions have been passed down from one generation to the next and a few families have adopted more than one. There is even waiting list is maintained of those people who want to adopt. So actually, I think it was a combination of all of the above factors and then some that made yesterday's ceremony so moving.

The color guard

Dutch and American cadets in formation

The ongoing gratitude of the Dutch was discussed in a Washington Post article this morning. It is a powerful read and having been present at the mentioned ceremony it was all the more moving. Yes there were the typical speeches by politicians but intermingled with those were the personal stories of what the War and the cemetery means to generations of both Americans and Dutch.  It is one thing to read the words in the Post, but hearing Arthur Chotin share his story put a lump in my throat. Here was a 70 year old man whose entire life was shaped by the loss of his father when he was just an infant. And his story was only one poignant moment because there are thousands upon thousands of other stories that were shaped by, and continue to be affected by, the War.

Today, even as our country is in the midst of over a decade of on going war, many people feel distant from the battles that are being fought far from their homes. Perhaps it is too far away, too abstract, or doesn't seem pertinent to one's daily life. But yesterday, standing amongst both Dutch and American citizens I was reminded me yet again that no matter how far away it may be, war isn't a depersonalized abstract concept that only affects others for a brief moment in time. The actions and consequences of all those involved transcends countries and generations.

This is a lesson I share with my five year old son who currently loves to play soldier. I remind him that war isn't a game and has lasting consequences. He has heard me say this time and again and reiterates to me that he is only pretending because "war is scary". So as he stood at attention yesterday listening to Taps, I reminded him of this. And as the final note echoed through the cemetery he turned to me and told me how sad it was that so many soldiers had died. He was right of course but I also took that moment to remind him of the importance of remembering those who have given the ultimate sacrifice so the rest of us can enjoy the freedoms we have today. After all of these years Dutch still remember and so should we.

The Dutch Air Force fly over at the conclusion of the ceremony

If you go:
Netherlands American Cemetery
AM Begraafplaats 1
6269 NA Margraten
Netherlands
+31 43 45 82 208
www.abmc.gov

Open daily except for Christmas and New Years Days from 09.00-17.00

Free

Burning The Midnight Oil

Don't get me wrong; I love the holiday season. But while it can be an incredibly festive and joyous time of year, in order to make all of that happen requires a lot of work. Houses don't get magically decorated and gifts don't buy, wrap (and in our case) ship themselves. Those lovely boxes of cookies that get delivered to the office? Yes, they take time to bake and before I can even turn on the oven I need to tackle the chore of shopping for ingredients. You get the idea.....

Growing up one of my most prevalent holiday memories was that of my own mother coming home from work then staying up into the wee hours of the morning toiling away with holiday preparations. The copious amount of cookies, wrapped gifts and the year all three of us kids received hand knit stockings are images that are burned into my memory. And somewhere buried amongst those memories are those of my mom not being completely happy about all that was required. But each year, thanks entirely to her efforts, it all came together and as an adult I still cherish those Christmas memories. As I was in the midst of my own baking-shopping-wrapping frenzy recently I stopped and realized that in this respect I have now become my mother. (Gasp).

As a family we aren't big gift givers. Glenn and I no longer exchange gifts opting to take a family trip instead. "Santa" visits Sidney leaving a few carefully selected gifts but that is it. As far as extended family goes, some years we give gifts and other years we don't. Living in Albania with limited outgoing mail service we fell out of the habit of sending packages home. This year, with ready access to the U.S. postal system and the wonderful Christmas markets of western Europe, we made the decision that we would send small Christmas packages home. But with Christmas a little over a week away we have yet to purchase any of those gifts. We've been looking at all of the Christmas markets but have yet to find anything that strikes our fancy. After all, we like to give gifts that have special meaning rather than giving for the sake of giving. What does one give to people who are world travelers and have everything they could need? My fallback items of locally made treats really don't fare well when sent through the mail. And now as I make regular pilgrimages to the post office to see if Sidney's big gift has arrived I see long queues of people waiting to send off their own carefully wrapped packages. To date I've only acquired the boxes and customs forms needed to mail of those afore mentioned, hoped for gifts. And Christmas cards accompanying a newsy family letter? Those went by the wayside years ago when keeping track of the addresses of our ever moving friends became too much work. Besides, between Facebook and this blog I figure people are getting their fill of what we are up to.

So closer to home I'm focusing on the here and now. We put up our tree and decorated the house the weekend after Thanksgiving. It looks lovely if not a bit sparse since our rooms with their soaring ceilings are just so much more cavernous than we are used to. I figure this year we will pick up additional items at the Christmas markets and be all set for a fully decorated abode next year. Having just hosted our belated Thanksgiving dinner for friends this past weekend I'm now giving thought to our own Christmas dinner but as we will be taking off for our next adventure on Boxing Day am unsure what I should make. After trudging to several grocery stores, the local market and making a foray into the Belgian version of a Michael's craft store (my worst nightmare in any country or language) for boxes, I'm ready to put together cookie boxes for Glenn's co-workers. And despite my single, European sized oven and minuscule kitchen with its single sliver of counter space, I was on a baking streak yesterday whipping out batch after batch of cookies. That was, until I ran out of both butter and sugar and it being a Monday and the day of the national strikes in Belgium, and I was unable to get to a store to replenish my supply. But I'll get there today (or tomorrow) and continue baking tonight (or tomorrow) and those coveted boxes of goodies will be delivered this week before the office shuts down for the remainder of the year. Then I can tackle the gift buying and wrapping.......

So I'm warning family back in the states not to hold their breath waiting for a package from us. It may or may not arrive and if it does it will be a New Years gift rather than a Christmas one. The cookies will get done and Sidney's presents will be wrapped and delivered by Santa because...well....they have to. Somehow it really does come together every year and this one won't be any different. And for a brief moment on Christmas Day I will sit back, relax, eat a cookie or two and remind myself that I really do love this time of year. Honestly, I do. Because after all, what would Christmas be without the flurry of activity, the last minute trips to the store and the late night struggles with tape that sticks to everything but what it should. I really wouldn't have it any other way. Honestly.

The Easter Bunny, Santa Claus & Other Commericialized Childhood Propaganda

Call me a cynic but I just can't embrace the Easter Bunny. Or Santa Claus either for that matter. While both Easter and Christmas are rooted in Christian traditions somewhere along the line the original intent of these religious holidays got hijacked by mass consumerism making their focus gift giving. It isn't that I don't love celebrations and festivities; rather I have a hard time getting into the spirit of an event whose main focus seems to be buying and giving unnecessary items. And since most of these celebrations were originally centered around a Christian religion that I do not practice I feel even more removed from the celebrations. But I have a very aware little boy who sees his friends celebrating these annual events and naturally he wants to be a part of the fun. So what is a parent to do?

With Christian Easter being celebrated this weekend I've been struggling with just how we should recognize the holiday in our non-religious household. In past years we've simply ignored it and treated it as any other Sunday. (Well, under the auspices of my old job I was required to organize a community wide party around Easter which I did but the celebrations never crossed our doorstep). But this year Sidney is so aware of the Easter Bunny and has been talking about chocolate eggs and other sugary treats. He gravitates towards the pastel colored displays in the stores and asks when the bunny will bring goodies to him. He spies the chocolate crosses that are just as prevalent as the eggs, chicks, and bunnies but doesn't distinguish between them; to my four year old they are all just chocolate. And he loves chocolate.

So how do we not make our little boy feel like his is missing out on something that everyone else is experiencing. Without a deep religious faith it feels hypocritical to be celebrating Easter. (And I still don't see the connection between the resurrection of Christ and an adult sized rabbit). We want Sidney to decide for himself what he believes and I don't want commercialized costume characters to influence this. After much deliberation our answer is to hold our own small egg hunt in the backyard. We'll fill eggs with small treats and toys and let Sidney burn off some energy trying to find them. Rather than putting the focus on a Christian event (sorry son but you won't be finding any chocolate crosses in those eggs) we'll call it a celebration of spring. Hopefully the predicted rain will hold off and perhaps the sun might even shine for a bit in Belgium. I know that eventually we will have to explain the real meaning behind the holiday to Sidney but for this year I think we will be getting a pass on that conversation.


And in closing, this pretty much sums up how I really feel:

April Fools Day (A Repost)

                       Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.

                                        ~ William Shakespeare

It is the first of April, the beginning of a new month that promises to be sunnier and springier than its predecessor,  and yes, it is also April Fools Day.  What exactly is April Fools Day you ask?  It is a day filled with pranks, (hopefully) harmless jokes, and good natured fun.  They may be as simple as a joke or elaborately orchestrated with props and numerous actors.  Perhaps they are  spontaneous and implemented as the right moment arises or well thought out with extensive planning taking place.  But in the nature of April Fools Day, they are all carried out in good fun.  And interestingly enough, this unofficial "holiday" is recognized around the globe in various forms.  Who knew that such a silly day could be the one thing that unifies countries as diverse as the United States, the Philippines, Iran and every country in between.

Chaucer's 1392 Canterbury Tales provides the earliest references to pranks taking place on the first day of April.  During the Middle Ages,  the March 25th Feast of the Annunciation, ended with festivities and frolicking on the first of April.  April 1st is the thirteenth day of the Persian New Year and as such on this day, Iranians celebrate  Sizdah Bedar by playing jokes on each other.   Pranks transcend age in Europe where in Italy, France, and Belgium adults and children alike pin paper fish onto each other's backs and shout "April fish" to one another in their respective language.  Legend has it that the British first introduced the concept of April Fools Day to the Philippines during their 1760s invasion of the islands.  Now Filipinos mark their pranks with splashes of yellow, thus informing their unwitting victims that they are just joking.  The Scots play the April Fools game in a manner reminiscent to the children's game of "telephone." Messages requesting help are delivered from person to person with the correct response being the need to contact someone else, thus continuing the game.  In Poland, the media and even public institutions will get into the game with parties sending out false messages and news.  It makes me wonder what would happen if real news did need to be spread on the first of April.  Would any Poles believe it?  How would you be able to differentiate reality from fantasy?

Although not a holiday per se, April Fools Day is my type of holiday.  I eschew the heavier pranks but adore the idea of good natured fun.  More importantly, I love that such a simple concept is carried out in similar fashion throughout the world.  The day seems to transcend continent, politics, religion, and age.  What else can lay claim to doing the same?

                                                      April 1.  This is the day upon which we are reminded 

                                                           of what we are on the other three hundred and sixty four.

                                                                                ~  Mark Twain

A Kiss Is Just A Kiss

The chocolate version

One? Two? Three? Perhaps none? Right? Left? Right then left? Left then right then back to left? Which scenario is correct? I think one of the most difficult customs for Americans living overseas, particularly in Europe, to adjust to is the practice of kissing friends and even acquaintances when greeting them. (In most cases) I'm not talking about lip to lip engagements but rather air kisses on one's cheek or cheeks.

When we were attending attache school before our first overseas move we spent quite a bit of time talking about kissing as a cultural form of greeting for both women and men alike. Because it simply isn't the cultural norm for most Americans, especially those in uniform, we actually spent time practicing our kissing greetings. I think this came easier for the women in our group as the majority of the men looked physically uncomfortable with the entire exercise. But again, I believe that this discomfort is a product of machismo American culture where a firm handshake and perhaps a slap on the back is more of the norm, since Europeans, both in and out of uniform, seem to be so much more comfortable with the notion.

A single kiss

And just because you are comfortable kiss cheek to cheek kiss greetings doesn't mean you will always get it right. I actually find the whole practice rather sophisticated yet I found myself in more than one uncomfortable head knocking situation where we couldn't coordinate whether it was right then left or left then right. (This proved to be most problematic when standing in receiving lines where I encountered a variety of guests from different cultures and backgrounds). In southeastern Europe, including the Balkans, if felt as though cheek kissing was common practice amongst everyone, young and old, male to male, male to female, and female to female. Whether meeting in one's home or a public place, cheek kissing was a regular sight. It was rare to be walking down the street in Tirana, especially in front of a cafe, and not get caught up in a human traffic jam because everyone was stopping and cheek kissing one another in greeting. And the number of kisses, one, two, or three varied as well. Two became my standard practice going from right to left but after a few mishaps I learned to always be ready for whatever direction and number was thrown my way. Now if I was being greeted by someone from another part of Europe, all bets were off since until I got to know someone better, I never knew what or how many would come my way. Over time I learned that both Romanian and Polish men greeted women with three kisses to the cheek followed by one on the top of the right hand. Who knew?

Now here in Belgium the rules are different from the southern part of the Continent. Whereas triple kisses are exchanged in the Flemish region, here in Wallonia the standard appears to be a single cheek kiss amongst friends. Again, I learned the hard way after being the perpetrator of a double cheek kiss which took the recipient by surprise (and this was after she had initiated the greeting). Apparently it is also less common here for men to kiss men. At least that is what I've been told and in thinking about it I have yet to see it actually happen. Instead hearty handshakes followed by a brisk slap on the back seem to be more of the norm between both young and old men.

So when is a kiss just a kiss? And how many is the correct number? And to whom? I guess it depends upon where you are and where you are coming from.

And a totally different type of KISS

In Celebration of International Women's Day (A Repost)

Even Google is getting in on the action

Today, in honor of International Women's Day, I'm re-posting a version of my tribute from past years. I'm just settling in here in Belgium and have yet to tie into the local international women's group. As such I'm unsure to what extent International Women's Day is recognized and celebrated here in Belgium. I haven't seen anything advertised and in venturing out this morning I didn't see any of the hoopla I'd seen in Albania. That doesn't mean it isn't celebrated here however. 

But here is my tribute from previous years.................

International Women's Day receives scant attention in the United States, but here in Europe it is a big deal. And in the Balkans it is a very big deal.  Albania, like the rest of Europe goes all out in it recognition of all women- mothers, sisters, and daughters alike.  While getting my hair returned to its "natural" color this morning, there was a steady stream of women coming into the salon for washes and blow outs.  The restaurants were packed with well dressed women celebrating with their "sisters".  It seems as though everyone is out celebrating the wonders of women  but it makes you wonder how far the "holiday" has moved from its original intentions.  If today's celebratory events in Russia are any example, it makes me think that there are much more meaningful and long term ways that the contributions of women can be celebrated, or at least recognized. The history and commemorations may remain the same but this year I really find myself pondering why women's contributions are recognized on a single day when we toil the other 364 days of the year as well.  Shouldn't every day be a day to honor and respect all women, and all people for that matter?  But I digress...........

The origins of such an upbeat holiday surprisingly memorializes one of the saddest events in the women's equality movement.  International Women's Day actually commemorates a 1908 fire in a New York textile factory.  Female workers had decided to strike due to unfair wages and terrible working conditions.  After several days of strikes, the factory owner barricaded the exits and set fire to the factory, killing all 129 works trapped inside.  This terrible atrocity led to the formation of the first women's labor union in the United States, and paved the way towards gender equality in the workplace.

International Women's Day is celebrated annually on March 8th.  In different regions, the focus of the festivities ranges from general celebration of respect, appreciation, and love towards women, to a celebration of women's economic, political, and social  achievements.  In many regions the day has become an occasion for men to express their love for women in a way somewhat similar to a combination of Mother's Day and Valentine's Day.  In other regions, however, the original political and human rights themed designated by the United Nations runs strong, and political and social awareness of the struggles of women worldwide are brought out and examined in a hopeful manner.

Festa e nenes dhe e gruas, or festival of mothers and women as Women's Day is called in Albania, is celebrated with gifts of beautiful mimosa flower bundles.  The mimosa was chosen as the international symbol of the celebration in 1946, to mark the first Women's Day after the end of World War II.  It was chosen for its bright color, sweet fragrance, and full bloom during the often cold early-March weather.  It's viewed as a symbol of rebirth and renewal, underscoring its relevance after the war time.  This time of year the mimosas are in full bloom and the bright yellow flowers are hawked by the fistful by children standing along the sides of the road.

On this important day you can send mimosa flowers or bake a mimosa flower cake  for the special women in your life.  Or you can simply say "thank you" to the women who have touched you in a special way.  So on that note, I say thank you to the women who have helped make me who I am today.

Believing In The Magic

Yesterday, more than ever before, I came to understand the true joy that comes from observing something from a child's perspective.  As a mother, the weeks and days leading up to Christmas are over scheduled, chaotic, and anything but relaxing.  (Note to parents everywhere.....no matter how pretty it may look, buying the glitter covered wrapping paper is never a good idea.  However, it is a very good idea to have an extra stash of tape on hand).  But seeing Sidney's excitement over the prospect of Santa's visit followed by the look on his face when he realized that Santa did indeed come makes every moment of the chaos worth it.

This was a Christmas of firsts for us.  Primarily, this was the first Christmas that we actually celebrated in our own home.  When we were stateside, holidays were split between our own two families meaning we saw more of Interstate 95 than we did our Christmas tree.  Our previous two Albanian Christmases involved hotel rooms in other cities.  While it was wonderful to experience Christmas markets, live nativity scenes and outdoor concerts, these holidays just never truly felt like Christmas.  This year, sitting in front of our own tree in the comfort of our own home, it finally did.

And most importantly, this year, at age four, Sidney was an active participant in so many of the activities leading up to Christmas itself.  Opening each box on his chocolate filled advent calendar became a daily ritual in the days leading up to yesterday.  Sidney helped decorate the tree and hang the lights, squealing with excitement when they finally illuminated the room.  With each decoration that went on the tree I was able to share my own childhood Christmas memories with him.  Christmas Eve found the two of us preparing dinner together then plotting Santa's snack.  When I first suggested to Sidney that he might want to leave a snack for Santa and his reindeer, he got all serious.  Sidney decided that just any plate wouldn't do and instead selected a holiday themed one from the cabinet.  When I asked him what snack Santa would like, he pondered the question for some time before stating "spicy chips" (Sidney's personal favorite at the moment).  Over the course of the evening the snack menu changed until Sidney finally settled on chocolate cookies for Santa and a carrot for his reindeer.  His excitement at selecting each cookie before carefully putting it on the plate was simply contagious.  Bedtime, framed around needing to go to sleep before Santa arrived, complete with a reading of Twas the Night Before Christmas and the spotting of Santa's sleigh in the distance (a.k.a. the light of a passing airplane), only added to the anticipation of what was to come.

And then we had Christmas morning itself.  Sidney's eyes lit up at the sight of his overflowing stocking and the pile of presents under the tree.  He took the task of unwrapping seriously and the meticulous care he took in opening each item item was in complete contrast to the excitement of discovering what was inside.  Books and a new winter jacket were met with the same level of excitement as the make your own sandwich kit and the toy aircraft carrier.  Throughout it all Sidney kept repeating that Santa was so nice for bringing him presents.  Hearing and seeing his excitement and witnessing his unparalleled belief in Santa made all of the chaos leading up to Christmas worth it.  And, it made me a believer in the magic of Mr. Claus.

Getting Into The Holiday Spirit

Yesterday we decorated our house for Christmas.  This has been a holiday tradition for Glenn and me since our first Christmas together.  In Norfolk, our house would be decorated inside and out with fresh pine boughs, white lights, and special ornaments.  The steep eaves of our house were always draped in white icicle lights lending a festive atmosphere to our entire neighborhood.  We have decorated in the cold, the rain, and even under the cover of night.  There was even the year when Glenn was unexpectedly at sea and the men of our neighborhood all pitched in to make sure the house was decked to our usual standards.  Because we were always visiting family on the holiday itself, the pinnacle of the season for us was our annual holiday open house where friends, neighbors, co-workers, and even family passing through the area would descend for food, music and festivities.  Our party was the single event I looked forward to each year and it was always a good time.  Regardless of where we were on Christmas day, decorating our house has always made it so easy to get into the holiday spirit.

We've carried our holiday traditions with us to Albania but have made the expected modifications.  Our tree is no longer a live pine; rather we have a soaring, perfectly shaped pre-lit tree that I must admit is pretty darn nice.  (As someone who grew up in a family that always cut their own fresh tree, switching to fake was a bit hard).  We've learned that not having to string those pesky lights is actually quite nice! Our eaves are no longer covered in white lights but both of the balconies that run along the front of our house are.  After three years our Albanian neighbors don't stare quite as much at the bright spectacle; the first year they didn't really know what to make of them, last year several neighbors attempted to emulate our efforts with a handful of their own colored light strings, and this year we've received thank yous from the same neighbors who actually get to enjoy the view more than we do.  And since we live in a house with limited electrical outlets, we've finally gotten the hang of which sets of lights we can plug into which outlets without tripping our circuit breakers.  Despite our best efforts, however,  for me, it has never felt quite like Christmas here in Albania.

While we've decorated the house for our past two Albanian Christmases, we've never actually been here on the holiday itself.  Our first year we road tripped to Croatia and Slovenia and last year we sought out snow and Christmas markets in Bavaria.  But this year, we'll be staying put for the big day then heading out of the country after the holiday.  And because we will actually be here, we're making more of an effort to make the house festive.  In years past we've set up our Christmas tree in our representational space, leaving our private living space barren of most Christmas adornment.  With the exception of our party and delayed gift opening in front of the tree, we haven't spent any time in our decked out rooms.  This year is different.  Sidney is older and getting into the holiday spirit so this year we've brought the decorations upstairs.  Sidney helped Glenn hang the lights and together we all decorated the tree.  Despite the cool temperatures we don't have snow at our house but we can see it on the mountains outside of the city.  Sitting in our living room lit with holiday lights it feels like it is Christmas and I love it.  Today's agenda includes more decorating and I'm getting a start on the copious amount of cookies I bake each year.  Yes indeed, the Christmas season is upon us and I'm beginning to feel it.

Happy holidays!

(Mostly) Wordless Wednesday: Thanksgiving w/ Albanian Living Magazine

I blogged about the experience here; now you can see what it looked like.

It Takes A Village

It was an African proverb before Hillary Clinton popularized the phrase with her 1996 best seller of the same name.  The premise is simple; while parents play a vital role in raising their children, so does their entire community.  From siblings and grandparents to friends and neighbors everyone within a community must share in the responsibility of raising the next generation.  Take a historical look at cultures around the globe and you will see that this is true and has been for some time.  In earlier days clans and extended families stuck together if for no other reason that sheer survival in both the social and physical senses.  Sometimes this might mean multiple generations living in the same town, on the same street or in the same neighborhood, or even sharing a house.  Other times it may refer to an entire neighborhood looking out for one another, adults volunteering to coach sports teams and taking part in the car pool, or simply taking the lead in supervising kids playing in the neighborhood. Or more likely, it is a combination of all of these and much much more.  During long ship deployments fellow Navy families united to become one big family to offer support to one another during times of need.  While our blood families may not be close enough to provide assistance, a member of the Navy families was always steps away ready to jump in when called upon.  This is not just a relic of the past nor is it country specific; today I look around my own street here in Tirana and see multiple generations sharing houses and contributing to the raising of the next generation.  Regardless of whom the parent is, all of the adults on the street share in the responsibility of supervising and if need be, reprimanding the children.  Older children look out for the younger ones and younger ones in turn look out for the even smaller ones.  And this is not unique to our neighborhood.  Many of our Albanian friends and co-workers either live with their in-laws in the same house or at a minimum in the same apartment building.  Sure this arrangement provides for built in babysitting but it offers so much more.  From family history, cultural traditions, and the wisdom that only comes with age and experience, a village raising a child is more powerful and beneficial (and easier) that going it alone.

As nuclear families have become more geographically diverse, non-traditional "villages" have become even more important.  As Sidney gets older and we find ourselves living thousands of miles away from our own families and close friends, I am becoming increasingly aware of this.  Sure we can Skype on a regular basis with our families back in the United States and while that is an important part of the support system that is our village, we have had to forge an adopted one for ourselves here in Albania.  Just as we did in Washington D.C. and in Virginia before that, our neighbors and co-workers here have become our friends and these friends have become like family to us.  They are the ones we turn to when we need support and in turn we offer the same.  It is becoming increasingly apparent that in this day and age we just can't go it alone.  While Glenn and I play a key (and the lead) role in Sidney's development, it is our entire adopted village that is helping to raise and shape him into the boy he is.  From our dear nanny and her own grandchildren who play with Sidney to the neighborhood children who taught Sidney to play football (European style that is) and cheer him on as he learns to peddle his bicycle they are all a part of our adopted village.  Our co-workers who provide us with the day-to-day support we need and our friends who serve as our power of attorney should anything go wrong are all a part of our village.  More than ever it truly does take a village to raise a child and we are very grateful for the one we have here.

All About Cookies

Cookies and Christmas go hand in hand. Growing up I have memories of my mom baking copious amounts (and varieties) of cookies in the weeks leading up to Christmas.  Every night, long after the rest of the house was asleep, she'd toil away in the kitchen cranking out sheet after sheet of these sweet, buttery treats.  From tree shaped sugar cookies sprinkled with green colored crystals to uniformly sized Mexican wedding cookies, buttery shortbread, and chocolate and vanilla pinwheels whose twirling stripes seemed to go on forever, these are my Christmas memories.  Christmas week involved a flurry of delivering cookies as co-workers, friends, neighbors, the mailman, and even the mechanic at the local garage were all recipients of platters of home baked treats.  Even with all the cookies that were given away, there were always more than enough left at home for us to eat.  Well into January there would still be a few cookies tucked away in tins in the pantry that made for perfect after school treats.

As an adult I still love my cookies and every year I find myself trying to replicate this holiday tradition. Try is the operative word here since making dozens and dozens of cookies of multiple varieties is very time consuming.  I am not blessed with my mother's patience so rolling out perfect quarter inch sheets of buttery dough is always feat.  Regardless of how I try my dough alternates between being too cold and crumbly and so soft that it just sticks to everything.  This is not how I remember my mom's cookies turning out.  My tiny, European sized oven is not conducive to cranking out pan after pan of cookies.  A single batch can take the better part of an afternoon to make.  By the time the real "fun" of decorating is supposed to start I'm worn out.  Each year is a repeat of the previous year's frustrations but I am determined to carry on this family tradition.

Gingerbread Cakelettes ready for their debut

I approached this year with a new strategy.  I paced myself and planned ahead.  Cookies such as Frangelico Crinkles freeze beautifully so I made these ahead of time and stored them until needed.  Coconut-Bourbon Balls are another make ahead cookies whose taste only intensifies with age.  Other cookies, such as orange butter cookies can be made ahead of time then frosted at the last minute.  I quickly gave up visions of Martha Stewart style icings and went simple.  They looked nice and tasted even better which is what really matters.  Good old Meringues are probably the easiest cookie to make but must be made at the last minute. With proper planning--which I some how managed to achieve this year-- these were a quick and stress-free last minute treat.  Not feeling up to rolling out more temperamental cookie dough, I eschewed traditional gingerbread men for Gingerbread Cakelettes.  Yes, when you can only bake them in multiples of six it makes for a time consuming project but to me, the payoff of not having to roll dough is worth it. Plus they are just so darn cute. 

Unlike my mom, I don't give out platters of cookies to everyone I know.  Instead, we host a huge holiday party (or two, as was the case this year), and I serve up the cookies as the desserts.  The verdict?  The cookies were a hit.  By the end of the night my hours and days of baking was reduced to a few crumbs on the empty platters.