Feeling tired? Then This Is For You!

Good evening, my Internet Friends!
You are feeling tired. Or upset. Or frustrated. Or are simply suffering from a lack of sunlight, (thus a vitamine D deficiency) like my fellow Wetlanders.

Well, this is for you!

This is as Wetlandish as it gets :-)

I took it at the Maasvlakte II, not so very far from my house. What you see isn't a hill, it is a dune. With lots of modern windmills. And a very calm sea, with sand banks (look closely). No seals, although they are frequently there.

Have a good look, and dream yourself a sunset like this one.

Sunset in Winter

longing for warmth and some sweet

tenderness for all

Digging for Gold? Gina the Tunneler.

We have had our dog for almost 10 years now. And she's sweet, absolutely. But she has this annoying habit: she digs up the flowerbeds.

Now obviously I know many (most?) dogs dig. They like to make themselves a cosy nest for sleeping in. And I remember our first Dalmatian dog digging holes underneath my Mum's beloved roses (alongside those dug by the chickens, by the way). 

But Gina doesn't dig her bed, she just...digs. Huge holes. And afterwards she comes in all muddy and flops down on the parquet all happy. And I go into the garden with dismay, and view yet another Hydrangea bush dug up, or my lovely Echinacea covered in earth.

She started in a small way, a couple of years ago, in the bed between the back and side garden, and we forgave her, for she had found the tunnel of a vole who obviously lived underneath that bed. We even praised her, I remember, clever girl, that will show that vole!

But then the small hole got bigger, and deeper, and we were certain that the vole had moved on ages before, and she dug up all my tulip bulbs in the process.

So we put up wire netting, to protect the bulbs and to stop her. She simply tore out the netting. Then we tried chaining her up when we weren't around to stop her. She howled. So now we try to keep an eye on her when she goes into the garden.

And as long as our eye is on her, she is innocence itself, simply snoozing in the sun or dozing in the shade, nowhere near a flowerbed, in fact.

And then, as soon as our attention lags, she is at it again. No way that she is digging for mice or voles (we hardly have any left anyway, with Viggo hunting them mercilessly) - and the holes get more numerous and bigger every time.

Sadness - such a secret emotion.

I am sad.
Hello, good evening to you all. I saw Ecuador has joined us. Bienvenudo!
Tonight I am going to bore you to tears. Or move you ... You take your pick!

I am sad.

Last Friday night (but I heard last night) a man passed away whom I looked up to, respected, liked immensely and was always happy to meet. He was the best friend of my step-father, so you could say I grew up with him around, from the time I was 9 years old.

He was charming. A clever businessman. Funny. Good-looking. Sometimes tormented, but he never talked about that with me.

And he was nearing 90, I  believe. So you could argue that he had a long life. 

Yes, he did.

And he lived most of this life very comfortably off. So I am trying my damnest to be philosophical about his passing away. Except it doesn't really work...Yet another one gone.

(How many people will I have to lose...the inner child in me wails)

The weather didn't help me at all today. It was grey, damp.

And being at school, teaching all those youngsters, doesn't allow for sadness. Sadness doesn't play a part in their school days. At least, not my sadness. (Many of them have plenty of sadness of their own)

So....what do you do...

I've decided I'll do what I always do in a secret sad mood: I look to music.

Ane Brun - Daring to Love

Generation Conflicts - are they simply natural?

Good evening!
This evening I had an interesting conversation with my son (21) about generation conflicts.

In the Belgian Ardennes, 2011.

When I was as old as he is now, there was a huge gap between the generations. The generation of my grandma didn't understand the generation of my mum, who let their kids run loose and wild (sex, drugs & rock & roll), and the generation of my mum didn't understand why my generation needed to lose themselves in sex, drugs & rock & roll. They didn't want to set us free; we simply took our chance and demanded our freedom.

It gave rise to many a conflict, I can tell you!

I have girlfriends of my own age (on the other side of 55) with children, and we all agree that we experience and enjoy warmer and more open relationships with our kids.

So what causes generation conflicts?
We came to the following conclusions:
- parents want their kids to avoid the mistakes they have made themselves
- parents want their kids to have a better life and take all opportunity for improvement
- kids want to do their own thing
- kids want to be able to make their own mistakes
- kids don't want their parents to meddle
- parents want kids to listen/behave/obey

Perhaps there are more causes, if you know any feel free to tell me.
But after tossing all these reasons into the mix, we came to the following idea:

* isn't all this conflict simply nature's way of making certain our kids want to pack their bags and start out on their own?

I like to watch the swans near my house.

They are caring parents! They look after their kids for more than a year, until the feathers have turned from brown to snowy white. They defend them hissing and spitting and threatening with their wings from dogs and humans. And then, from one day to the next, they are RUTHLESS.
I have witnessed young swans being chased straight into the path of racing cars by their parents. Away! Out of my sight! Move it! You are no longer wanted!
And absolutely no mercy.

Dogs are different, by the way. They live happily in the same house with their offspring, no problem. And cats, too, accept their own kids in the same house, but then cats are more individual anyway.

Still, we thought that it isn't natural for a young person to not want to move out at some stage.  If you stay (willingly!!!) beyond 25, you are either bone-lazy, or have no job thus no money, or there is a medical problem. And yes, there is a tiny number who stay out of altruism, because they feel their mum/dad/both parents cannot cope without them.

So. The next time my kid is stroppy, and I want to paste him/her behind the wallpaper (Dutch expression), I'll try to remember this conversation.

Happy Birthday to You

Today is the day we celebrate the birth of the two most important people in my life.
My kids.
21 Years ago and 17 years ago they were born, both in April and both after months of fear and uncertainty. (Not to mention pain)
But there they were, and here they are :-)

Love you both to the Moon and Back!!

My birthday wish for you two (The Beatles, but by WOTE)

Into Running? Tomorrow is the Rotterdam Marathon.

Hi, all you joggers:-)
I'll let you into a secret, but don't tell anyone. Ssssshhhhht. I do not jog.

I used to, but that's 40 years ago, and jogging was not even invented then. We used to call it running, and I had to do it in school. And actually...I was pretty good at it! Long legs, long muscles, and stamina from all that cycling to and fro school I had to do every day.
Nowadays I sometimes think back to those days, when I weighed 52 kilos...sigh.

But that's not at all what I want to tell you about.
Tomorrow is the annual Rotterdam Marathon, and it draws thousands of runners and thousands of spectators and it is a festive, fun event.

And this year, 2014, it is even more fun (and rather special) for me, because my son has participated in making a promotion film about running in Rotterdam and I am bloody proud of it. The film is by wonderful Rotterdam photographer Chris Bonis. But Wibe is in the credits, hurray! I'll leave you with the link, right here.
A film about running in Rotterdam by Chris Bonis

Bye!

I Need Some TLC!!!

Hi, cough, cough, sniffle, cough.

How are you? I'm feeling like death warmed over.
This morning I dragged my aching bones out of bed at 5.45 and breakfasted on a cup of tea with two paracetamol, and went to work.
There I kindly asked my pupils to have some mercy, as I was feeling poorly. This had zilch result.
Sometimes a woman's got to do what a woman's got to do: you have to feel sorry for yourself, for nobody else does...

Right. I'm not going to bore you any further, but will do unto you what I would like you to do unto me (great language, English).

A Long Overdue Tale: our first dog was amazing.

You either love dogs, or you don't. 
I have never met anyone who said: 'yeah, dogs are okay, but I can take'em or leave'em, really, I may as well have an armadillo'.

No. You are a dog person. Or you are not.
I am a dog person as well as a cat person. People tell me that's impossible, but it's true. I adore and respect my cat, and I love my dog.

Freya, 3 months old.

So this story is long overdue. For I have told you tales about Gina, our stray from Turkey, who we have for 10 years now (and not 8; I realised this when I uploaded the last batch of photos for you). But I have not yet told you about Freya, our first dog.

Freya

Freya was a Drentsche Patrijshond, a Drent for short. We only have 2 proper Dutch breeds, and a Drent is one of them. All the other dogs are imported.
When we wanted a dog, we looked for character and posture. We wanted a retriever, it had to be a swimmer, and it had to be a outdoorsy type of dog, like ourselves. The fact that the Drent is a friendly dog, only persuaded us faster to go for this Dutch breed.

We went to a proper breeder (at least, that's what we thought) and picked a little bitch from a litter of 6. She was adorable, with a  fat pink tummy and keen eyes. We took her home in the car, and introduced her to our old cat Saartje, who immediately jumped up on the linen cabinet and refused to come down for days.
Freya wasn't house trained yet, so we took the advice from someone who said to know about these things, and put newspaper all over the kitchen. Hence our cute little doggie believed she could pee in the kitchen, and has kept up this belief for all of her 15 years!
That was mistake number 1.
Mistake number 2 was the breeder. What we didn't know, was that our expensive dog had come to us with a tummy bug. She needed treatment which nearly cost us the dog plus hundreds of guilders. But she pulled through. Because we were afraid she wouldn't survive, we took her up to our bedroom. That was mistake number 3, for she never wanted to sleep anywhere else but next to us again.

The best dog in the world

Did we regret this dog? No way! She was sweet, friendly, cute, funny, curious and a fast learner. A Drent always brings you something when you come home, retrieving is in their genes, and after an embarrassing episode when my new boss dropped by to bring me some urgent letters to type, we quickly learned not to leave our dirty underwear lying about the house.
She defended our home, and thought it her duty to keep me from harm. Whenever a man came to visit us, or to repair something, she would always stand between us, and when he crossed an invisible line, she would growl softly. I have seen big, macho colleagues of mine reduced to little shivering heaps on the couch, unable to move from it because Freya would posture herself in front of them and just stare. Nothing else.
We took her everywhere, and could, for she behaved impeccably. In restaurants, she would move under the table and stay there. She went on trains, on buses, on boats (she loved to swim and was a good sailor), and her speciality was sitting in a little cart my husband would tie behind his bike. We cycled all over France, Germany and Switzerland with her in this manner, and people would stop and point.

When our son was born, she became even more protective, and would guard him around the clock. She allowed everything: he could pull her ears, and poke her eyes, and crawl all over her, and she even let him eat from her bowl.

The same with our daughter, although by then Freya was quite old and hard of hearing, and had cataracts. But she would allow to be dressed in hats and scarves, and pulled the sled when it snowed.

Both kids shared the cycle cart with her.

When we did our research, all the books said a Drent will become 10, or 12 if you are really lucky.

Our Freya reached 15 years. In the end she was deaf as well as blind and incontinent. My husband spent months on a mattress next to her basket, so he could take her outside in the night if she needed to go.

How do you explain that you have such a bond with your dog? Only other people with that same bond understand.

When she was in pain (she had bowel cancer), we took her to the vet, who put her to sleep. Then we took her home, and buried her in her favourite spot in the wood, and planted a beech next to her grave. Hers is the only beech in an acre of poplars, so we can always find her.

The best dog ever. 

Our pets are part of the family. How about yours?

Tigger (+) and Gina, then newly arrived

Did you grow up with pets in your family? We had a small zoo, when I was young. Chickens, geese, ducks, a horse, goats, a dog, always more than 1 cat, rabbits, guinea pigs, a tortoise and agapornisses and tropical fish.

So it's no surprise that I want my children to grow up with pets as well, I suppose.

That photo above the blog is from 2005, and shows you a typical scene....we do love our catnaps!

Ah....seeing this makes me realise how grey our Gina has become over the years. Here she was young,  and having a good time with my daughter on the lawn.

She's 10 now, and grey and becoming an old lady, who is stiff in the mornings and who has her old lady whines. And who has days of not wanting to leave her basket for walks, and who has to sniff at e-ve-ry tuft of grass along the way when she does like her walk.

Tigger, the large tomcat we adopted, and had with us for 10 years. And Snuf and Snuitje, who shared the rabbit hutch and were devoted to each other.

Tigger was very macho, and most of our guests (as well as family) were a tiny bit afraid of him. He had the nasty habit of hiding just around the corner of the kitchen, and then swiping at your ankles when you passed him with your hands full of dirty dishes. He used his nails, too. Told you, macho. He never did it to me (Ha! Still proud of that!). And was a big softy when it came to snuggling up to the kids.

He kept all the other neighbourhood cats out of our garden, and dogs as well. But he had a soft spot for our dogs. First Freya, and then Gina. He would share their basket, and snuggle up to them as well.

I don't very often get sentimental, it's not in my nature, but when I look at those old photographs they bring tears to my eyes.

Just look at that face. I'm me. I'm cat. I'm ruler of this house.

And he was. And I miss him to bits.

Our dovecote. It blew down a couple of years ago, and we had to rehouse the doves.

And here we are in the present again. No more doves. No more Tigger. No more rodents. But still old Gina and Viggo the Magnificent.

Happiness is not a destination - it's a way of life

I have got the photo from the Internet (where else?), no idea where this placard was used originally.

But that doesn't really matter. What matters is what's written on it.

Whilst we Dutchies have won yet another 5 medals for ice skating yesterday, the news brings me images of a burning Kiev. The contrast couldn't be any greater.

I wish we could take that placard and hang it up, high in the sky, above our poor, stricken, confused, fucked up world. 

And mean it.

Whatever religion you bow to, I'm certain that somewhere in your holy books there is a line which goes something like this: treat others how you would like to  be treated yourself.

I would like to add this: treat others with kindness.

It's very fashionable to be mindful, over here in the West. Hence the title of this post.

But how can you be mindful, happy, fulfilled, content, when there is a lack of kindness in your life? Or, to turn it around: how can you NOT be kind to others and yet expect to be happy?

So, I'd like to amend the title:

Kindness is not a state of being for wusses - it's a way of life

Right. Frightfully righteous lecture over. Next time I'll post something comfortable again, I promise!

I'll leave you with a link. Lyn Collins - Think (about it)  :-)

You've done it! - You've clicked 2,001 times on Rays of Light. Here's my thank-you gift for you.

Thank you for reading my blog!

You have NO idea how happy you make me by reading the little stories I upload almost every day. And especially YOU, Dianne Overbeeke, as you've just pushed the ticker past the 2,000 mark.

What gives me such a kick is that people from all over this world are interested enough to click on my blog, simply by looking at a #. And thinking: oh, I'd like to read about that.
 It means that we are all connected.

Yes, Russia, we are connected. Yes, South-Korea, South-Africa, Australia, India, far away though you may be, we are connected. Yes, Canada, we are connected. And New Zealand, just saw you appear this morning, hi there!

And my European readers who share this continent with me: we are connected. 
Spain! How are you? Ever since I visited your country when I was a child of 5, I've loved it.

I am very happy that we are "in-tune" so to speak. And hope our virtual relationship will prove fruitful, colourful and beautiful. Tot de volgende keer!

I've been pondering a suitable thank-you gift for you all (I believe in bestowing gifts).

The last time I gave you a recipe. I think this time I will give you a song.

You'll find the link below this post.

A romantic song by WOTE - one of my favourite bands

Didn't you get a single Valentine's Card today? Yes you did - here is your card!!

Hey there!

How are you today?

Did you sleep well? I hope so!

Today is that day of the year when people get divided. The ones with the cards, chocolates, gifts. And the ones without.

I have been in both groups. So I know how you feel if you are in the 'without' group.

Since I am in a stable marriage (lasting 27 years this year) with a man who doesn't believe in such nonsense as Valentine cards, the last year I received a Valentine's was....1986. Golly!

The fact that I do believe in soppy romantic gestures, still hasn't swayed him. I have given up giving hints.

He has planted the garden with lovely sweet pansies yesterday. That equals a card, right? You might even call it a romantic gesture (and I do, I'm quite stubborn that way).

So...you there, out there somewhere in this cold lonely world. I am thinking about you. Keep your head up. Keep your heart strong. This day is just another day, and it will pass. But if you want it to, it can be a gorgeous day, full of little sweet moments, for you.

Have a good day! <3 <3 Renée.

May the Olympic Force Be With You! - And I mean ALL of you.

We are a family of sports lovers - no doubt about it. 
Olympic years have a little extra glow, in this house. The television (not a thing which has an extremely important place in my life) suddenly becomes a permanent light source, for it is on all the time.

Not being able to ski, or rodel, or speedskate, or curl myself, I watch the athletes with baited breath, hoping that they will have a great day and that they will put down the performance of their lifetime.

And obviously I hope that my fellow Dutchmen will do well. We have the potential winners of a couple of gold medals, so...I'll be keeping my fingers crossed for Sven and Irene and the rest of them.

My dear Reader, the introduction of this blog is now at an end.

What follows is the main argument. And therefor I am now warning you, gently, that if you are of the Putin-persuasion, it isn't safe to continue reading!

Peace, my friend.

I believe in equality. People, all people, you people, were created equal. 

Religion is simply this: a belief created by people to give them something to hold on to, to believe in.

I believe in people. Am I a Humanist then? Perhaps. I don't like dogma. I don't like someone telling others what to believe and what not. (Am I biting my own tail here? Yes, I am. But it is for a reason. And no, I'm NOT telling you what to believe and what not. I'm trying to make a point)

Human rights cannot be ignored.

What irks me, is that the little mistake of one snowflake not opening during the opening ceremony last night, gets more attention than the direct hint in the opening speech of IOC chairman Mr. Bach that the Olympic Games are intended for ALL people. 

I will not tell the Russian people what to believe in. I will not tell them how to live their lives, who to vote for, or how to love. Who am I? I am nobody.

But I wish that all Russians would have the freedom to decide for themselves who, and how to love.

It's love, what it comes down to, in the end. 

I wish you a lovely time watching the Olympics!

Gosh I adore Paris! - Care to join me in a little tour of (some of the) sights?

Bonsoir!
My family and I have just returned from a flying visit to the City of Lights and Love (2 days), and we've had a whale of a time!

Montmartre

Isn't it perfect to board a train in Rotterdam, and then step onto a Paris platform only 2 1/2 hours later?!

The Thalys was full, to the brim, which probably had something to do with the same reason for our trip to Paris, namely the enormous home furnishings trade fair Maison & Objet. 

To get in, I had to fib a little; it is a buyers trade fair, so we used the name of my daughter's non-existent-but-in-the-future-to-be-business M.K. Styling. And O Em Gee...did we see some gorgeous design!

We also saw a lot of other stuff. In fact, there were 9 humungous halls full of stuff. I never realised there is so much for sale...and so many people wanting to buy it only to sell it to other people.

I'll be writing a string of blogs over the next couple of days, themed, for your perusal. So for now, I'll leave you with a more personal one. Because visiting M&O was only a very good excuse to take my family to Paris...

We didn't have a lot of time, so were picky in what we saw. We stayed near the Place de la République, extremely handy for travelling by Métro, but a very nice square in its own right, with lovely restaurants and a lively skater and roller blader community. And those Parisians think nothing of a bunch of Dutchies rolling into their restaurant on a Thursday at 22.40 in the evening (Ha! Try that in boring old Hellevoetsluis!) "You want to eat? Welcome!"

And they speak English! I mean: no better way to make me feel at home!