At Long Last:

Way back in May when we first arrived in Falls Church so that Stefan could begin his A-100 class, my stepmother came down to lend a hand. When she came, she brought a bottle of 1989 Perrier-Jouet champagne that she and my father had been given on their wedding day. For some reason, they never drank it or used the hand-painted flutes that came with the Belle Epoch edition bottle. When she gave it to us, she suggested that we would drink it on Flag Day to celebrate our first post and the beginning of our new life.

Our first Flag Day came and we were posted to Frankfurt and while we were relieved not to have been posted somewhere completely remote and difficult to live in (easy all you hard core Foreign Service types... We will do our time. We just didn't want to do it first with an infant and a toddler and all the tension that goes along with having them), we didn't seem compelled to really celebrate in the "pop open a bottle of Champers and run around screaming and jumping up and down" kind of way. It was good, not, like, totally great. There was the whole "compound" living thing and the fact that Frankfurt is almost completely devoid of romance, but it had its advantages and we were happy. Just not 20 year old Champagne happy.

Well, I think now that our second Flag Day has come and gone, we might just crack that bottle open and run around screaming and jumping up and down because we were posted to...

BRUSSELS, Belgium!!!!

And we are very excited.

Argh.

All week long, I was trying to concentrate hard on what was right in front of me-- the kids, the lake, my lovely extended family. However, in spite of my best efforts, there has been the unrelenting nag of the not knowing where we're going in the back of my head.

For better of worse, Beaver Lake is a tiny community and most people who are at all interested have some idea of what's going on in your life. So, of course, I am asked "the question" at least once a day.

"We'll know this Friday," I've said with confidence on multiple occasions this week.

That really kept me sane-- the whole "we'll know on Friday" routine.

Then Friday came around.

Stefan, god bless him, has been in the fiery inferno that is Northern Virginia while the girls and I have been enjoying the lake. So, I expected him to call some time late yesterday morning with the big news. My blackberry was glued to my hand at all times. We were assigned while all the CDO's (Career Development Officers are responsible for assigning posts) were on the 154th A-100 class retreat on Thursday and it made sense that Stefan's CDO would call as soon as she was able. That wasn't soon enough. Stefan called her around 10AM.

That phone call proved to be a major set back for the Whitney family (at least in the immediate) because she revealed that she's not in a position to tell us our post until FLAG DAY! Mother f-er. Seriously? OMG. WTF!!! God-damned bureaucracy! This normally calm, collected, roll-with-the-punches mother of two is starting to really lose her f-ing mind.

"I can tell you that you did get one of your "highs," however," she told Stefan sheepishly.

Of course, I can't tell you any more than that... until Flag Day. We were completely inflexible this time around and we only bid 6 jobs "high." Those six jobs are in 4 cities. Those 4 cities are among the best and most beautiful in the world. The good news: we got one of our highs. The bad news: it's starting to feel like we're never know where we're going.

Ooooops...

It would appear that my last blogging effort came through incomplete. I guess that's not a complete shock since I sent it from my blackberry and I have pretty shoddy coverage up here at the lake.

The last sentence should have read:

... Its so heartwarming to watch Adela eat a lollipop next to her cousin Violet after a long day of learning to swim off the Porter's dock. Especially since I too learned to swim there. Bringing her and Flora here makes me feel like I'm giving something back for having had the same opportunities.

This is a humble place. There are no frills or attitude. The road is roughly paved with loose stone and the docks are often bowed. The "beach" is roughly 20 feet by 20 feet and the keg at Saturday's Weenie Roast was filled with Budweiser. There is no air conditioning in most of the summer-only cottages and "out houses" are still in use all over the lake. But, somehow, the docks feel just right when you run off one and dive into the lake with its perfect lake smell and its murky bottom. The beach is a heavenly place filled with children, getting to know each other and the best ways to makes sand castles stand tall. The Bud is cold and pairs perfectly with a kraut-topped hot dog and even despite this intense and unyielding heat, the lack of air conditioning doesn't seem to hinder a perfectly restful night's sleep.

When you read the paper and drink a cup of coffee at the counter at the General Store, its impossible not to run into someone who remembers you as a child and can recall the way you ordered your ice cream cones.

Perhaps I'm naïve (or more likely, ignorant), but I don't think there are a lot of places like this in the world- a perfectly beautiful place with a community whose connections have a 100 year plus history.

I feel so lucky to be here and to have the opportunity to share it with my children.

Greetings from the Lake!

Well, the Whitneys are fully ensconced at the lake and we are virtually incapable of obsessing over "the post." For, our days are filled with splashing around in the lake and our nights are characterized by big, robust, corn-riddled buffets and of course, Saturday night was the first "Weenie Roast." It was a wonderful opportunity to see many, many old friends of the family and eat way too many hot dogs to recall.

Being here as an adult with two kids makes me realize how truly incredible it was to be a kid here. Without the burdens of washing towels, grocery shopping, and cooking meals, all that's left is to enjoy the lake and all its bounty: boating, fishing, swimming, walking, playing tennis, etc. Its so heart-warming to watch Adela

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...