Broadway Diversion

Book of Mormon was a hilarious distraction from house hunting in the Big Apple.

Although NYC real estate is pretty humorous . . .

2 + 2 = 4

One week ago today, these beautiful baby girls arrived in this world.

I think Valentine's Day is going to have to be pushed back four days because these two are the sweetest gifts ever. 

Congratulations to my brother and sister-in-law.

Welcome MDB and EKB!!!! ❤️❤️

Pinch me! I'm an aunt!

The Beauty of Stateside

Tomorrow we fly to the U.S. for winter break. I'm dropping the kids in Nashville and continuing on to NYC to spend the week touring real estate and schools with DS (well, partially together, since DS now has to go to Europe for meeting while we're finally stateside . . . but, such is our life right now!).

This is first time the kids have stayed at someone's house for an extended period sans parents. I'm so excited for them and for Nana. Our family network has been pretty small over the years, and one of the most exciting aspects of our move back to the U.S. (and specifically the east coast) is that we will be near family. Bring on the village! These private, individual moments the kids share with their grandparents, aunts, uncles and soon-to-be cousins are so precious, and so formative.

Here are few snaps from Nana's last visit, just this December. We can't wait to get on that airplane tomorrow.

The Rijks:

I've managed to carve out a couple of days before we head back to Amsterdam and, as always, look forward to some one-on-one time with my mom, which we try to do during our visits.

In December, we visited the Anne Frank House--a very moving experience and tragic reminder in context of today's current events. Anne Frank's hiding place was adjacent to the church in the photo below; you can just make out the line of people queuing to get in. I've written at length about the Anne Frank House from my previous visits.

And we also ate pancakes, a must for any visitor to Amsterdam. Ahem, it's my mom's fifth visit to Amsterdam. :-)

That's how they do pancakes here in The Netherlands!

Till tomorrow, Nana!

All You Need is Love

Valentine's Day is such a strange and fabricated holiday, and I think its origins are rather sinister for a holiday that is all about love. But, alas, it's all about love, so what's so wrong with that?

While the other kids made cards for friends during time set aside at school, AS and RS made extra special Valentine's for their Dad, far away in New York.

Albert Hein (our local big grocery store, which we all love-to-hate and hate-to-love) offered strawberries in heart-shaped packages, which for some reason really made me happy. I bought three on the spot.

Mom went all the way to the AIRPORT to find helium balloons "special delivery from Dad," and meanwhile Dad sent Mom a dozen roses.

And AS reminded all of us of the beautiful bottom line:

Down(ton) in the Dumps

Please don't make us say goodbye . . .

Tulip Tipsy

Tulips make me happy, even when they've worked themselves up into a state.

SERIAL

Yikes, I'm such a late adopter!

Still half-way through Season 1, and I like it so much I'm not sure if I want to go slow and relish it OR binge-listen and get to Season 2.

Nowadays, this is the only thing I do on my bike or while running.

City of Lights

J'adore Paris.

I've spent quite a bit of time in the City of Lights over the years, going way back to when I was fifteen years old and lived with a Parisian family for the summer. I can't claim to know it like a local, but I dare say that this city and I are much more than acquaintances. Paris will always pull at my heartstrings.

In November and December, I had the good fortune to spend eighteen days in Paris, over the course of two separate visits. The first trip was a solo writing retreat, during which I tucked myself away in the 6th arrondisement to take advantage of the momentum I'd gained writing my novel. By this point, we knew DS would be returning to work soon, so the moment was mine to seize! 

The second visit brought the entire family to Paris during New Year's week.

It came to pass that I was in Paris the night of the terrorist attacks on Friday, November 13. I'm not entitled to be melodramatic about this fact. Not when so many people experienced such loss. Yet, these events affected me deeply. I was scared, and remain skittish three months later. I've learned this is how it goes, as I also happened to live and work in Washington, D.C. on September 11, 2001. I still have irrational, but manageable, fears stemming from this experience (for example, low-flying planes make my stomach do an involuntary turn).

In the case of Paris, I was eating dinner alone at an outdoor café in the arrondisement adjacent to the one where the attacks occurred. When I put together the timeline in my head later that night, I realized that I had just finished eating and paid my bill as the attacks started. I then walked home across the Seine to my hotel in the 6th. Tons of restaurants and cafés line the small side street where my hotel was located, and they were packed with Friday-night revelers. I could barely make my way through all the people who had stepped outside with a glass of wine to smoke a cigarette. I stepped into the lobby, and received this text from my mom in the United States: "Are u home? Just heard of the terrorism in Paris." Fifteen minutes later, the street below was empty. The news was out, and the city was eerily quiet.

As stark as this memory is for me, and also the following day when I had to catch my scheduled train back to Amsterdam, what really stands out for me is the week leading up to Friday's tragedy. Most of those mornings I went for a run in Luxembourg Gardens, which was near my hotel. Every single one of those mornings I found myself running alongside a unit of sapeurs-pompiers (firefighters), who must train there on a regular basis. Ok, perhaps I wasn't running alongside them, and it was probably more that they ran laps around me, but we shared this moment in time in this beautiful palatial garden on several crisp autumn mornings. That Friday morning, I ran with them. That Friday night, they were called to action in a way they could have never imagined earlier that day. I had watched them run hard and sweat. They wore dark, long-sleeved tee shirts with sapeurs-pompiers written across the back. They laughed as they ran in pairs and small groups.

I'm brought to tears when I think of them. Every time. For some reason, it is the thought of these men and women that hurls this tragedy at me like a punch to the gut. It was that shared moment that made the events real to me. So much loss of life. So much need for heroes. Not just in Paris, but all over the world nowadays. Still, it's important but to keep living. Not allow fear to play with your head. It's why we went back to Paris, as planned, just one month later to celebrate the holidays.

I think sometimes it's best to let the silence do the talking. Here are some quiet photos from my fall and winter trips to Paris, most of which I took during my morning runs, starting at Le Jardin du Luxembourg. #cityoflight