Shuffle to Your Past:

I don't know what it is-- the summer weather, a new sense of well-being since I dropped 15 lbs. (so far) on Weight Watchers, or the prospects and opportunities that await us overseas somewhere, but I am so into music right now... in a way I haven't been since I became some one's wife, then mother. Listening to loud music and waxing philosophic is generally reserved for people without a care in the world, rambling across European countrysides in old trains and daydreaming about lost and new found love.

A few days ago, I was driving in my very sensible family station wagon (hopefully soon to be replaced with the even more dreaded minivan... totally my choice too by the way. I care not for what the world thinks... just whether or not I can fit two car seats, two Labrador Retrievers and a week's worth of groceries inside. All you minivan haters out there: talk to me when you're in my shoes. Until then, shhhhh! Minivans rock!). Anyway, I was driving along, with my two gals in the backseat and I decided to turn off NPR and hit shuffle on our Ipod.

I was transported to such long ago times that I was forced to view myself as, um, kinda old. Were my girls a little older, they would have surely had a laugh as I bopped my head and mouthed the words to Cypress Hill's "Cock the Hammer," and reminisced about a time when I walked around the streets of New York, dressed like some kind of faux-hoodlum in baggy jeans and big, gold, dangling hoops. Oh, to be a child of the 90's in Manhattan (for some reference, there was a movie made not to long ago called "The Wackness" that really captured the essence of that time. Also, the movie "Kids" was made while I was living in New York and many of its stars were people whom I regularly ran into-- this is not so much a source of pride, but just a matter of fact).

Cypress Hill soon gave way to Portishead's "How can it Feel So Wrong?". That might not even be the name of the song, but if you ever saw "Stealing Beauty" with Liv Tyler, you know the song I am referring to. The soundtrack to that movie became my own one summer, after high school, when my girlfriend and I toured around France and Italy on trains. One late night, we were riding from Nice, France to Pisa, Italy (a stopover) and just as we had gotten ourselves good and comfy in our cabin, a man joined us from Monte Carlo. He stunk of booze and his tan lines revealed the places where his watch and jewelery were before he'd gambled them all away. He was creepy and kept saying, "Vous le vous coucher avec moi?" so when he got up to use the bathroom (and probably to restore his energy with something illegal), my girlfriend and I gathered up all of our belongings and ran for another cabin. We found two completely deaf Polish students whom we tried desperately to inform that we were running for our lives from a would-be Italian rapist. They were so sweet and confused by our hysterics.

Then it was Bonnie Prince Billy, who took me back to a time when I was living in Big Sky, Montana when I would drive 40 minutes through the most breathtaking canyons to go grocery shopping in West Yellowstone. His somber and sentimental lyrics suited this very lonesome but introspective time in my life. When, soon after I broke my ankle badly enough that I was rendered immobile for almost 6 months, I felt just as somber and melancholy as Bonnie Prince Billy (aka Will Oldham) seemed to.

And finally, since it wasn't such a long ride after all, came Feist's "Mushaboom," which truly was the soundtrack for the most incredible summer of my life, the one when I met my husband on a beautiful, warm, spring day in San Francisco. As I listened to her warbly voice as she sang of snow and crackling fires and watching her as-yet unmade babies grow up, I looked at Stefan and hoped for all the things she sang about... with him.

Music is so amazing and I hope that with all our upcoming adventures, we will have many new songs to attach to them. We found out this morning that we will, in fact, have to wait to hear about our new post until the 154th class is assigned. That's sometime next week. I wonder if there is a good song to capture the anxiety of this time somewhere on that Ipod of mine????

Minibar: It's Among the Top Five Whitney Dining Experiences...

I am not an "easy to please" diner. In fact, my professional food background makes me an ornery dining companion and I often wish it weren't so. Everything gets scrutinized to the nth degree and it has been known to take the fun out of going out to eat for me... and occasionally, my husband. Although, I have learned to keep my complaints under wraps for every one's sake.

When we walked into Cafe Atlantico in Downtown D.C., I was surprised to find a relatively comfortable and relaxed environment. The "guts" of the room were exposed (big, white HVAC vents and pipes running across the walls and ceiling) and the tables were sort of haphazardly set on white table cloths. The dominant features were big, bright oil paintings and a massive stairway leading to the unknown.

We apologized for being a little early (so eager were we to get out on our own, I think we arrived almost 30 minutes before our 8:30 reservation). They seemed delighted that we were so punctual and offered to seat us at the "downstairs bar" for a pre-dinner cocktail. I ordered a "Pineapple Caiparihna" and Stefan ordered a "Grey Goose Martini with a twist." Our server returned a moment later with the news that they were "all out of Grey Goose." Hmmm... "That's strange," I thought as I looked behind the bar at a giant, full, 2 liter bottle of the Goose. I was up in arms already, but Stefan assured me that he'd be just as happy with the Hangar One our server had sugested as an alternative.

We sipped our cocktails and wondered outloud where we would ultimately be seated. The host had given no indication. "Where's the minibar?"

At one point, our server returned with a small book, the winelist, and proceeded to list our "options" for ordering wine while we ate our 27 course "minibar experience."

"These are flights." He pointed to a list of four distinct "flights of wine," and explained that each was a 2 oz. pour and that we'd end up with about 3 full glasses of wine if we chose that route. Gulp. 75$ a person for three glasses of wine.

Then he turned the page and offered that, "these are half-bottles and we recommend choosing three to accompany your experience." The least expensive "mini-bottle" was 38$.

And finally, on the last two pages, full bottles of very expensive sparkling, white and red wines were listed. Our server explained that this was the least interesting option, because it limits opportunity (but certainly not the impact on our wallet...)

We chose the mini bottles and were shortly therafter, guided up that massive staircase to the second floor, where the "minibar" was located. Six seats, three chefs, and 27 courses of pure culinary intrigue awaited.

Almost immediately, upon sitting down, one of the chefs gave us the rundown of what to expect: "There are 27 courses, in total-- divided loosely into three sections: snacks, entrees and desserts. Most are intended to be one bite, but we will instruct you as to how many you should take with each course. We will place each course on the glass and ask that you pull each one down in front of you to eat. The servers will clear from the left, behind you. Feel free to ask questions and enjoy your meal."

We started with a cool, smoky "Passion Fruit and Mezcal Marguerita," served in a tiny, hollowed-out Passion Fruit and topped with Mezcal Tequila "foam," (yes, there was a LOT of the now semi-passe foam being tossed around). This was quickly followed by "Beet Tumbleweed," "The Popcorn," "Sea Bean Tempura," and "Bagels and Lox." None of these, with the exceptions of the "Tumbleweed" and the "Sea Bean Tempura" were what you would think. "The Popcorn," which has become a signature dish, is a completely deconstructed "one-bite" type of affair that looks nothing like buttered popcorn, but completely captures its essence. The "Bagels and Lox" looked more like a tiny ice cream cone, in which cream cheese "soup" is topped with tiny postules of salmon essence, made by the chefs one by one, and surprisingly "pop" in your mouth like caviar (that sort of begs the question... "why not use caviar?"). The undeniable standouts of the "Munichies" section were the savory "Ferrero Rocher" and the "Cotton Candy Eel."

As we moved through to the next section, "Flavors and Textures," we were delighted by the smoked raw oyster with apple. Stefan was almost moved to tears by the "Zucchini in Textures." A smoky, smooth layer of caramelized Zucchini custard is topped with a fresh and salty Zucchini gelee and finished with effervescent, hand-picked Zucchini seeds. Seemingly a strange choice for my husband's favorite, but zucchini has never tasted so good. Seriously.

I have never been much of a "Umi" fan, but minibar's "Sea Urchin with Hibiscus Foam," somehow how took away the slimy, livery texture of the sea urchin without compromising the pure taste of the sea it is so well known for. The next three dishes, "Organic Carrots with Coconut," "Sweet Peas Catalan Style," and "Corn on the Cob" were real show stoppers and perhaps, the most molecularly gastronomic (see pictures).

The final entry into what amounts to the entree section of the meal was a "Philly Cheeesteak," which is a puffy, cheese-filled pastry, topped with thinly-sliced, nearly-raw, delicately-marbled Wagyu beef. It explodes and drips down your fingers and chin while you eat it, just like its inspiration and it's even better, for it's sophisticated while being completely simplistic in flavor.

The dessert section seemed slightly less inspired (but only compared to what preceded it). There were "Strawberries with Cream and Sun dried Tomatoes," "Japanese Baby (green) Peaches with Burrata," and a non-specific, "Thai Dessert," which included all the most familiar Thai flavors without giving any of its ingredients away.

Minibar at Cafe Atlantico was an incredibly interesting experience-- completely varied and unexpected. Though, I am loath to make such an obviously cheesy comparison, we DID go there to celebrate our anniversary and I couldn't help but think what a fine metaphor it makes for our life together; It's unbelievably delicious, constantly surprising, never what I expect, but always, just perfect.

My Big, Fat, Crazy Week:

It seems like sometimes, I have to think real hard to come up with something to blog about and other times, I have so much to blog about that I can't find the time to write it all down.

This is one of those times.

Sunday was Fathers' Day, of course, and I had really wanted to write a long, wistful homage to Stefan for being such a wonderful father to Adela and Flora. The day came and went and I never got it done.

Wednesday was our 3rd anniversary and I had wanted to scan in a wedding picture and write about how grateful I am to have had 3 such wonderful years with my adoring husband. That day came and went and I never got it done.

I rationalized by saying, "Well, we ARE going to minibar at Cafe Atlantico tonight and THAT will really make for an interesting blog post, especially for my similarly food obsessed friends and family. Of course, on Thursday, I was too hungover and overwhelmed to write that post.

Then somewhere in the course of all of those things happening, we got some pretty jolting news: They are "breaking" our assignment to Frankfurt.

It would seem that one of the very things that made our Germany post so interesting (Stefan was born there) is turning out to be the very thing that will keep us from being posted there. His dual citizenship represents a problem, which is something we always wondered about and therefore, Stefan was very transparent about it from the beginning of the whole process. Bureaucracy being what it is, they overlooked his initial concerns and posted us there anyway. And now we've told everyone. I've spent two weeks learning German via FSI's Rosetta Stone and Stef's spent three polishing his German in class; not to mention the hours we've spent fantasizing about living in Frankfurt and the trips we've reserved (in our heads only, of course)!

Alas, this is a lesson that is worth learning early on. Stefan told me yesterday that he's heard of some Officers who spend an entire career not going to the places they were originally posted to. This latest development is further evidence that it takes a very special type of flexibility to live a Foreign Service life well.

So, here we are, seemingly back to square one, clutching the 154th A-100 class' bid list. Yes, we do have to bid again. The good news is that the 154th has an exceptionally good list. Assuming the same rules apply, I can't mention specifics, but I can say that we might end up being better off...

Contemplating our New Home:

Last night, we were all having dinner at one of the Vietnamese joints in the Eden Center located in our backyard (for those of you who don't know: The Falls Church Oakwood is located right next to both a cemetery AND what amounts to "Little Saigon"-- a giant complex housing numerous Pho and Banh Mi Sandwich shops, Vietnamese DVD stores, jewelery stores, and manicure suppliers. It's great for a family living on a government salary, as dinner for the four of us can easily be had for under 25$), and we were fantasizing about our new life in Frankfurt, Germany.

Stefan had such a glimmer in his eye when he spoke about the country where he spent so many childhood and adolescent weeks. His fondness for the place is contagious, truly, and I feel so blessed that we are going to a country where one of us has such strong roots. Germany has the added bonus of being Stefan's birthplace and his intimate understanding of the culture will certainly add an extra dimension to our time there.

While we don't have to do very much heavy research (because relatively speaking, the lifestyle won't be so different from what we are used to here), we do get to do a lot of fantasizing about how we will spend our free time. One of the greatest advantages of Frankfurt is its very central European location and we have, of course, decided to take as many road (and train and plane) trips as we can comfortably afford. I am looking forward to spending time with one of my oldest and dearest friends who lives in London. Word has it that a flight to the UK can be had for a mere 20 euros on Ryanair. I also look forward to visiting Stef's cousin in Berlin and hopefully, experiencing the Oktoberfest at its epicenter in Munich. I have never been to the Netherlands and I haven't eaten nearly enough Parisian meals. I have always longed to take long, slow walks in Prague. I have never experienced snowboarding in the Alps and I've missed Brussels ever since I fell in love with my husband there. It probably sounds overly ambitious to do everything there is to do in Europe, but we are a resourceful and adventurous family and I have little doubt that our memories have just begun to be made.

I am so so excited by this move (made even more so by the reaction of friends and family; so many have said they will visit and I really do hope this is true!), that I can't contain it. I have trouble sleeping, for thoughts of German Christmas Markets and homemade sausages fill my head. I wake in the morning exhilarated, knowing how much opportunity and richness awaits us. It's a lucky thing that we will be leaving in September because with more time to anticipate, I would surely implode.

I want Bauhaus! Waaaaahhhhh!

Now that we know where we are going and that particular worry has been put to rest, I am free to worry about the finer points. In particular, I am concerned about this whole "Drexel Heritage" furniture situation. Thankfully, I have Shannon over at Cyberbones to help soften the blow and give it to me straight now, so that I don't walk into my own personal interior design nightmare when we get to Frankfurt.

For all you veteran FSO's and Trailing Spouses out there, I am sure this is old news and you probably are far less superficial than I am. But for me, this has been a concern ever since my husband started the application process.

I have faithfully been collecting mid-century post modern furnishings and accoutrement for the last 10 years. I have done so on a minuscule budget and with the help of many familial donations (Thank you, Mom. Thank you, Grandma.) I had hoped that when I reached this age of maturity, I would really be able to rev it up and start buying some valuable additions without straining quite so hard. I always thought that by the time I was happily married with two children, I would settle in somewhere and really have the opportunity to adore and add to my teak, chrome and enamel "things." Alas, it will now probably be many years before I have such luxury. In the meantime, I have dark-finish American Colonial style furniture to admire (er... wretch over).

I get that the State Department in all its bureaucratic loveliness has to streamline the process of furnishing 12,000 Foreign Service homes. I get that. But what I don't get is why they chose such a stylized (and heinous) line of furniture. Why didn't anyone say, "I think we ought to chose something neutral so the families can find a way to easily integrate their own things." That makes perfect sense to me. No scrolly knobs and handles. No patterns or potentially offensive fabrics. No over-the-top headboards or back-lit curios. Just simple, unobtrusive, functional and straight-forward furniture.

I stole the attached picture from Cyberbones so I could show my friends and family what I am working with (thanks Shannon). The collage shows what her Carl Schurz Siedlung apartment looked like when she arrived. It pains me that we are moving to Germany, the birthplace of Bauhaus and austere but beautiful architecture and design, and yet we are going to live with the worst furniture design that the good ole USA has to offer.


I want to know who has the job of choosing the furniture for the Foreign Service and I think I want to take over. Now, I realize that hyper-modern isn't for everyone and I respect that. If I were the person who chose the furniture, I would find things that would fit everyone's taste and match everyone's colors. Foreign Service housing people: for the next round, pick me! Pick me! I promise I can make 99% of the people happy.

In the meantime, I am in the process of ordering multiple slipcovers...

Just to Clarify:

It was an artistic choice to name the country only, but people have asked, so I wanted to clarify that we are being posted to Frankfurt, Germany. We are very excited about it, too.

First and foremost, there couldn't be a better place to take the dogs. I hear that dogs are permitted on the subway and in most stores. Secondly, Stefan's maternal family is from Germany and his aunt and cousin live there still. We are very anxious and excited for both of them to be a bigger and more frequent part of our lives (and our children's)! Maybe I should reverse the order of those two points... nah, everyone here knows how important the dogs are.

I am also looking forward to learning to speak German because there has been more than one occasion where I've felt left out of a conversation in the Whitney family home. They chatter on in German and I imagine the worst... that they are all talking about me. No more. I will soon be in on the joke myself.

Stefan tells me that Germany is a wonderful place for children and I have no doubt, seeing as how all the best toys come from there... I imagine the preschools are like amusement parks and the playgrounds are built out of over-sized playmobil bits. I think the girls are going to be very happy. I just hope they have some memory of our time there as Flora will only be 2 1/2 and Adela will be 4 when we leave.

Having attended a "Logistics of Moving Overseas" class yesterday, I am starting to understand just how many things there are to think about (by the way, I really wish I had been able to take that class before we moved to the Oakwood. It would have been great to have been armed with all that information before we packed up our house. For those of you who are yet to make the initial move, don't be afraid to ask for some of the highlights when your time comes). I feel overwhelmed by all the details and I am going to a fully developed Western European country. I can only imagine how it must feel to be going to a place like... Luanda, Angola!

The only downside to our first post is that because Stefan is already fluent in German, we will be leaving NOVA sooner than I had hoped-- not because I am so in love Falls Church, but because I am loathe to move again so soon and had hoped to enjoy getting to know Washington, DC and some new friends before we depart. But I am not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I am totally psyched. This is awesome.

Tomorrow: my rant on government-issued "American Colonial" dark-finish furniture.

Flag Day!

During the first part of of the day, yesterday, I had wanted to write about my anxiety, but then I read my fellow blogger's perfect explanation and knew my own description would fall short. It was one heck of day... so much waiting, so much anticipation, so much fantasizing and so much fear.

I got dressed while the girls' napped and carefully clothed myself in all white, for optimism. I put on my best turquoise jewelry and looked in the mirror knowing that it was the last time I would ready myself without knowing where I was going (for a while anyway). Then I put the girls in their best dresses and clumsily loaded us all into the car. I was shaking the whole time. I was excited (but also really hungry because I started Weight Watchers last week). As I pulled into the gates at FSI, I breathed deeply and found my sweet, wonderful husband waiting on the other side.

Entering the room, I could feel the tension and excitement. There wasn't an officer or a spouse or an eligible family member who wasn't feeling the same sense of helplessness that I was. But, oh, my helplessness was to get much worse. With the help of a friend, I got seated with my infant and toddler. And for a moment, all was well. We were looking forward at the giant screen that read, "Welcome to Flag Day," and knew within an hour or so, our most pressing question would be answered. And just as I got nice and comfy, Adela started to freak out. Like, completely freak out. Like I have never seen her freak out before. Out of total humiliation at my lack of ability to control my eldest child, I threw Flora and her bottle to my friend and ran out of the room with Adela dangling from the crook of my arm. I begged her, "please, please, please Addy. This is such an important moment for us. Don't make me miss it." But that seemed to only inspire her frenzy more. So we walked and walked and walked. Occasionally, I could hear the crowd explode when a delighted officer went to pick up the flag she had so hoped to hold, but really, it was just murmurs from a distance. Soon, it became clear, I had missed the moment.

As I looked at Adela with such sadness, the sun was shining brightly and I surrendered. It wasn't such a big deal, right? As I turned to walk back toward the building with the hope of it all being over and done with, Stefan opened the door, and came walking towards us. He had a big, bright, mischievous smile and from around his back, he pulled a tiny flag.

Deutschland.

And all was well and good, indeed.

Coming out of Hiding:

I haven't blogged in a while... a long while, relative to how frequently I had been blogging. I think it's because I have swimming in some pretty muddy waters lately-- dealing with family stuff that has me sort of out of sorts. I feel like I can't talk about it without compromising everyone's privacy, so instead of purging it and working it out here on Devonnaire, I have suffered in silence. But those things are so far out of my control, that I have decided to move forward and focus on our lives: the Whitneys' lives. Therefore, I'm back.

It's Saturday and Monday is the much anticipated Flag Day. We can hardly contain ourselves. There are cities on that bid list in which I've always longed to live and there are cities where I've never imagined living and really don't want to. So, it's a pretty big gamble we're taking. And while two years might seem a relatively short period of time when looking at the broader picture, it also has the potential to feel like an eternity. So, needless to say, this weekend is not without its anxieties.

One concern that has cropped up while living here in Falls Church, VA is the heat. Though I've always known my pale, freckly self is not at its most glamorous in temperatures over 80 and humidity levels exceeding 30%, I had forgotten how utterly miserable it makes me. I am loathe to go outside because within just minutes, I become bright red in the face and completely drenched in sweat. Every step is a labor. I move like a sloth and look like a pink-faced piggy. I hate the heat and humidity and without giving too much away, there are several potential posts that are both hotter and more humid than even here in Northern Virginia. My fingers are crossed so hard they are starting to cramp.

In other news, Adela is really starting to talk and Stef and I are quite proud that one of her most used phrases is, "Dank ooo." She's also become much softer and more predictable with her "Sissy" (as pictured) and she effectively uses her "doot bruh" to clean her teeth. Everyday, her communication skills improve and we are closer to light at the end of the tunnel.

I have officially made my first Foreign Service friend, I am happy to report. I have also found a wonderful yoga studio, which features (in addition to great Hatha classes), a "Toddler Together" class and a "Mommy Baby" class. And thanks to the help of Estela, our new babysitter, I am able to attend all of the aforementioned classes easily. I feel much more sane and energetic with a little extra help and another set of hands around here. I feel I can manage things much more effectively.

Now we are off, all four of us Whitneys, to explore Georgetown and try to forget the drama of the waiting game. Pictures of our outting to follow!