Traditional Bolognese Sauce with Pasta / Spaghetti

This dish our weekly and freezer-stable. Either Paul or I made a batch once a week, have a portion on the day and then freeze the rest. That's how you realise you're a parent and have turned domesticated. But in the best possible way. The recipe is one Paul has picked up from some REAL ITALIANS that he house-shared with at university. So it's as authentic as it can possibly be. It's really very yummy and incredibly quick and easy to make.

A+ for presentation.

Speaking Danish and Monkey Tummy Land

At the beginning of this month, our little family visited my parents, brother, his wife and daughter in Denmark. Not Copenhagen, but the part that sticks up from Germany. In order to get there, we first flew to Amsterdam from Zürich and then from Amsterdam to Billund (where the  FIRST and ORIGINAL Legoland is). My parents live twenty minutes' drive from Billund in a place even people in Denmark have only heard about, if they either come from there or have had an unhealthy relationship with the law.

The weekend was all about the children, so we spent most of the time in Lalandia  - or more correctly, in Monky Tonky Land (Stefan: 'Daddy, I like Monkey Tummy Land!') among over-excited children and exhausted-looking parents. Considering the chaotic nature of the place (imagine loads of padded cells of various sizes containing either soft gigantic lego blocks; slides; colourful balls; child friendly assault courses; trampolines etc.) there were surprisingly few tears. And, I realised something totally amazing: If an unruly child even looked at Stefan the wrong way, I could tell him/her off! And they would understand me!

That's one thing, both Paul and I have discovered about living in Switzerland with a child: It doesn't matter if you speak some German when it comes to children if they only speak Swiss-German. They just give you a pretty puzzling look, when you begin a sentence directed at them with: 'Können Sie bitte Hochdeutsch sprechen? Ich möchte Sie gerne tell you off.' (It's SO much easier to use the formal 'Sie' than the informal 'Du' grammar-wise...) So the couple of times, a child has dared to be in Stefan's way, I've done variations of shouting: 'Oi! Achtung bitte!' and giving out the death-stare.

Not only are the Danish the, apparently, happiest people around, Danish children might also be the best behaved, as I didn't get to raise my voice at someone in my mother-tongue.

Which could have been a blessing in disguise...

During a conversation with my sister-in-law, who's originally from Ukraine but speaks fluent Danish, she said something which just didn't make sense to me. I understood all the words but not the meaning of the sentence. Apparently, this was some newfangled Danish slang and her comment to my bafflement was: 'Karen, I speak better Danish than you now!' Which is evidently true.

Luckily, Stefan impressed with his Danish speaking and comprehension skills.

Paparazzi moment by the slides.

In order to get this very rare incident on camera (both cousins in the same picture) my mum and I displayed our, very well-developed it turned out, paparazzi skills. When we saw that Stefan and Marie were likely to go down the same slide, we basically pushed away anyone who could potentially ruin the shot with the shouty explanation: 'They're cousins. We've never seen them go down a slide together at the same time before.' Because that makes such a slightly manic behaviour totally acceptable - and a lot of sense. But as you can see, we got the picture. And what a fine one. It's Stefan on the left (this is how they do it in Zürich), and Marie on the right.


Enjoy this longer than usual weekend.

Puzzling

I love doing puzzles and sharing pictures of my progress on the puzzle I'm working on at any given account with all my 53+ (and counting, albeit slowly) Instagram followers.

During one of my puzzling sessions this week, I started thinking about what I find so attractive about this activity. And there are many reasons:

1. It's meditative.
2. It's relaxing.
3. You can wear whatever you want and don't have to comb your hair.
4. The excitement I get from the feeling of tidying up; from accomplishing something that takes patience and concentration.
5. It's a great way to do something whilst listening to Podcasts.
6. It's a good alternative to knitting, when the needles are almost on fire from having been producing yet another yoga sock.
7. It can be looked at as preparation for a life as a retiree.

I think all puzzlers out there (and according to Instagram, there are many) secretly wanted to become surgeons as I believe many of the same skills are in use in both fields: You need to be highly concentrated; you work best on a flat surface in a non-crowded room; good lighting is important for both types of operations; you need to have abundance of patience; you have to accept that something that looks like an easy part (moving a bullet from behind an eye socket or finishing a stack of cup cakes) could end up incredibly complicated and leave you drained after completion. But puzzling is the safer option and can't lead to anyone's death, if you get it wrong. And you don't need to study medicine to become a puzzler. Though some knowledge of shapes would be an advantage.

The first puzzle I did was during my first week at the psychiatric hospital. There was a table in the corner of the common room with a less than half-finished puzzle, so I figured I could help that along to completion. I discovered that sitting there, quietly putting a shattered Zürich together, momentarily took me away from all the dark thoughts and feeling of hopelessness that had lead me to this place.   When I moved to a different ward after just over a week, (I had been waiting for a private room to be freed up at the women's ward, where the staff were more specialised in women with post-natal depression), I went out and bought a brand new puzzle that I could sit and do in my room, when I wanted to be alone. Psychologically, one could say that as it's not always possible to bring order in the chaos of my mind, at least I can mend a broken piece of hard cardboard with a pretty picture on it. And later frame it and hang it on my wall.

At the moment, I have four 1000 pieces puzzles decorating the walls in my room, one is waiting to be hung up, one is waiting to be glued together, framed and then hung up and I'm working on a 'triptych' which is three individual puzzles that belong together. (Or as Google puts it: a set of three associated artistic, literary, or musical works intended to be appreciated together.)

You can see some of the puzzles under 'Craft Projects'.

Revelation and Motivation

I don't consider myself the fastest learner in the world, but that it's taken me until very recently to realise, actually realise, that the most part of getting and feeling better is up to me, has come as a bit of a surprise. Basically, having failed yet again to do anything from my to do list on one of the two days during the working week, when I don't work, and blaming it on me not feeling up to it and that this is part of my condition, I had a moment of clarity: All the external areas where I can get help are covered: Medication, therapy, support from husband, family and close friends, less work. But, there are still a lot of areas, where only my efforts will make a difference. And that's where my hard work comes in. And this is where I really struggle.

Being able to bottle motivation and sell it, would be a licence to print money. How often isn't motivation the missing link between wanting to do something and actually doing it? The wanting is easy, finding reasons for wanting to do it, also easy peasy. But putting the effort into doing it in order to get the wished outcome (learning a new language; getting fitter; changing careers etc.). What? I have to actually ACTIVELY do something. I can't just sit on my ass and think of all the scenarios where I'm asking for extra cheese on a pizza in Italy, in Italian; greet the sun with my eyes closed; do what I've secretly wanted to do forever?

...

To be continued...

I'm off to do stuff.

Grazie mille.