On Building a Better Mousetrap

In an update to my previous post . . .

It was not a box turtle.  In fact the only turtles I've seen in Belgium are those cute, but contaminated with salmonella ones at the pet store down the street.  Legal in Belgium and perhaps nowhere else on earth.  Get 'em while you can.

It was not an adorable hedgehog.  Thank God!  They are way too adorable, but if I see one with bleached hair . . .

Actually . . . apparently while I was busy choosing shoes to match by pajamas and raincoat, he/she/it/Elvis left the building :-|

Yep, tha's right.  I launched into that whole awesome snare scheme for nothing.  I wore tennis shoes with my pajamas, for Christ's sake!

Frankly, I couldn't believe it.  I still can't believe it which is why I shall never sleep again, shall wear shoes at all times, and will forever keep our kitchen trash can on the patio with an open bottle of bleach inside.

Seriously, we have seen a teeny, tiny mouse from time to time scurry across our patio and poop in our storage room so no doubt it finally figured out how to make himself at home.  As well as smart enough to know how long it takes me to pick out shoes.

This, of course begs the question . . . how did Elvis get in and out and more importantly, does he have colleagues?

A Creature Was Stirring

So this morning I went down to the kitchen and threw some things in the trash can.  Since the bag had only a few items in it, I wasn't too surprised when I heard some noise.  Figured it was simply the trash settling to the bottom of the bag.  

Then I heard it again.  I waited.  Heard it again.  So now I'm pretty sure the trash has had plenty of time to settle and something else has settled in our kitchen can.  Aaaaaaah!

It kinda sounded like a turtle trying to get out of a cardboard box, but I knew right away it wasn't that.  Duh.

Now what?

Option 1:

Gather up everything I might need for a day without a kitchen, back away and close the door.  I grabbed Winslow, my cell phone, a glass and a bottle of wine.  That should do it.

Then I had the dreadful thought that the stirrer might decide to exit the can for exploration purposes and who knows where it might go?  Open the door and go up the stairs?  

No, there had to be a better way.

Option 2:

Call Jim to come home from work.  Now for those of you who know me, you know I would never do that.  I don't even know his number.  Seriously, I haven't called Jim at work since 2007 and that was my second time to do that.

Option 3:
Somehow trap it and keep an eye on it for the next 7 hours until Jim comes home from work.  Now, I may do a lot of sittin' around, but even I couldn't imagine doing that.

Realizing I had no option but to take care of this myself, I thought and thought and thought because I surely didn't want to screw this up.

Only Option:

Kill it.  But what if it's a hedgehog?!  I could be fined for exterminating all that adorableness.  

Since it's not Noon yet and I still have on my pajamas :-| I figure I should probably put shoes on before I proceed.  So I back away and exit the kitchen, go upstairs and try to decide on which shoes would be appropriate with this particular outfit.  I go with tennis shoes.  I also decide to put my raincoat on because it has a pocket for my cell phone.  Not to call Jim, but to possibly take a photo.

Now, write this down for future reference . . . I soaked a big beach-size towel with water, slid the barstool near the trash can, stood on the barstool (with tennis shoes on - safety first) and threw the wet towel over it.  

Trapped! But now what?

Since I'm pretty sure bleach kills the AIDS virus, I figure it will at least stun the stirrer long enough to figure out my next move.  Take notes in the event you need this later . . . I poured a whole bottle of bleach over the wet towel and into the can.  And then I waited.  And listened.  Listened some more.

Nothing.  So I grab the tongs and slowly drag the bleach-reeking-towel-covered can out onto the patio . . .

feeling heinous, bereaved, guilty and relieved.

So . . . when Jim does get home, I'll update on what poor creature made the mistake of finding our trash can.  That is, if you want to know :-\

Haute Couture

High dressmaking.

"The only thing that separates us from the animals is our ability to accessorize."  

~Robert Harling, Steel Magnolias

I missed the Paris Fashion Week.  Again.  And in case you did too . . .

This is the new Chanel handbag - which appears to possibly double as a hula hoop?  Those shoes are pretty cute though.

This is Calvin Klein.  I think I could actually pull this off.  This model probably weighs less than duck, but you'd never know it.

This is Louis Vuitton.  Add boots and you've got Nancy Sinatra circa 1966 or maybe The Playing Cards from Alice in Wonderland?  Are you ready, boots?

If famous fashion designers are a bit over the top, here's some "street style" straight from Paris Fashionista that may give you some ideas.  I know they did for me.

Here is proof that getting dressed in the dark is actually chic.

I do love black and white and with this outfit, I could move effortlessly into saying Mass.

I think I could do this one because these shorts are actually my size.

I have to admit putting my trench coat UNDER my sweater vest never once occurred to me.

Super versatile.  To the office, then toss the belt and the heels and voila, you're ready for bed.

I actually have this outfit, but when I do this, I look homeless.  Why is that?

This is something you would actually see in Hasselt - biking in skirt and heels.  See why I'm so intimidated here?

If you're always wondering what to put on when you read Charlotte's Web.  Wonder no more.

You surely already have this outfit, you simply didn't know how to put it all together - the mint green pleated chiffon skirt your mother wouldn't think of wearing again, paired with a sweater from your 12 year old's closet.  Tie some rags around your wrist, slip on your fuschia bow pumps and you're off!  How easy is that?

The thing I like about this outfit is that if someone tries to lift your purse, they will have to strangle you first.  

Win win.

For those of you who are like me and have no idea who this is . . . I've been led to believe his name is Kanye West.  It's obvious he stepped out of his hospital room, slipped on a blazer and is headed straight for the basketball court.  Another super versatile getup.

I always say, you really can't go wrong with black.  I always say that.  

Good Intentions

You know the aphorism (a saying expressing a belief)

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions."

Well, in case you don't . . .

it is attributed to Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153).  Bernard was an abbot (head of a monastery) and Clairvaux is in France (a country in Europe :).

Bernard's claim to fame is starting the Cistercian order which basically means monks and nuns living self-sufficiently in seclusion growing crops and most importantly . . . brewing beer!

Studies on ethical behavior show that the best of intentions, especially in business and politics when the ideology of  "the end justifies the means", often backfires and causes unintended pain.  In other words, sometimes we idealists don't always know what's best for everyone.  Shocking.

Perhaps the author, Stephen Post got it right

"If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, 

it is partly because that is the road they generally start out on."

In keeping with "starting the year off right" with good intentions and all, I figured I should have at least a couple of resolutions.  Although I could always eat less and exercise more, I probably won't.  And fortunately I don't have to quit smoking or get organized.  

So . . . I'm back challenging another Flemish teacher to work her magic and rid me of my drawl while miraculously invoking that guttural hacking-up-a lung bark required for speaking Dutch and German.

I'm always optimistic that one day I will say something simple to the postal clerk and she will not furrow her brow and respond with "Wat zeg je?" as if I was speaking Klingon.  

To which I reply, "Well, I really only speak English".  To which she responds in perfect English and looks at me like "you should probably stick with English", which ends my Flemish practice session once again.

I'll keep you posted on any miracles that may or may not occur.

As far as good intentions, I think Mark Twain may have nailed it

"New Year's Day now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions. 

Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual."

Show Dog

When Ross was 5 and Randi 11, we got a puppy from the pound.  He was born at the pound and the only one of his litter to survive a bout with parvo.  We called him Shakespeare.  He was our family dog.

We moved three times to three different towns, Randi got married, Ross was driving and Shakespeare was still the family dog.

Then, one day he suddenly got sick and despite the best veterinary care and even a night in the emergency dog ICU, he died.  We were devastated.

For completely selfish reasons and to protect myself from that eventual loss, I swore I'd never have another dog.

Now we have Winslow.  Did I say "swore" and "never"?

We've had him (Winslow) for nearly 6 years and he's lived most of that in Belgium.  He travels with us, sleeps with us, eats at the table, folds laundry and makes coffee.  Well, he doesn't always eat at the table.

I'm the resident groomer and Winslow's fur normally looks, as my mother would say, like the goats chewed it.  Jim always affectionately calls him a "show dog", but he also sometimes says I look like a "movie star", so there's that.

Not to embarrass Winslow any longer among the fashionably groomed honden of België, we took him to the salon.

This salon.
The Hondentrimsalon of Sittard, Netherlands

The "bona fide" groomer told us he is all into showing his Schnauzers at dog shows.  When we arrived for our set appointment, he said he wasn't sure Winslow was a "bona fide" Schnauzer. Well, I never!

Well, actually, I said, since he came from the pound, we could make no such assumption either.  I fear this could have been a direct result of my grooming technique.

My apologies, Winslow.

Winslow before.

Winslow after.

When we returned 3 hours later to pick up the hond (that's Dutch for dog), the groomer consented that Winslow may in fact be an authentic Schnauzer notwithstanding "he is an American with poor quality fur".   Yes, he really said that.  But he also said that Winslow now qualifies for a dog show!  I presume he would be in the American Schnauzer with Poor Quality Fur category?

So, although Winslow and I do sometimes practice trotting in a below-the-knee length skirt and rubber-soled loafers (I would be the one in the skirt and loafers), we don't plan to join Westminster Kennel Club or spend our weekends going to obedience classes, but Jim can continue to refer to him as a "show dog".  

I don't know where that leaves me and the "movie star" thing though.

Mantle of White

We've had our first real snow of the season!  Temperatures remain below freezing so it isn't going anywhere any time soon.

No problem.  I'm perfectly happy trading it for the rain!

More snow is expected this week and continued below freezing temps so there may be a sneeuwpop in our future :)

Winter 2013

Youth in Asia

A long, long time ago . . . I can still remember

my World History class at La. Tech.  I minored in History, by the way.  A major in English, minor in History.  What major/minor could possibly be more useless?  Maybe, uh . . . 

no, I think I nailed it.

Anyway . . . my World History class.  It was taught by a woman who knew everything there was to know about World War II - without notes.  She was amazing and must have been 12 at the time because 25 years later she taught Ross high school English.  I'm sure she couldn't have been over 37.  She was not only smart, but really pretty.  Definitely didn't look as old as I do now!

I digress . . . my World History class.  We were all taking notes as the inevitable subject of Adolf Hitler surfaced.  When she mentioned some of the horrors of this time, the girl across from me wrote "Youth in Asia" so big and glaring on her notebook, I couldn't help but notice it.  

I wondered how long, if ever, it took her to figure out our lesson had nothing to do with Chinese teenagers.

Euthanasia - literally means "an easy death".

In all the world, active euthanasia (as opposed to assisted suicide) is only legal in Belgium and the Netherlands.  So I wasn't too surprised to read this article in the newspaper this week:

Two Deaf Twins In Belgium Allowed To Die In Unique Euthanasia Case
Bruno Waterfield, The Daily Telegraph | Jan. 14, 2013, 2:35 PM

Identical twins were killed by Belgian doctors last month in a unique mercy killing under Belgium's euthanasia laws.

The two men, 45, from the Antwerp region were both born deaf and sought euthanasia after finding that they would also soon go blind.  The pair told doctors that they were unable to bear the thought of not being able to see each other again.  The twin brothers had spent their entire lives together, sharing a flat and both working as cobblers.

Doctors at Brussels University Hospital in Jette "euthanised" the two men by lethal injection on 14 December 2012.  David Dufour, the doctor who presided over the euthanasia, told RTL television news the twins who died together had taken the decision to die in “full conscience”.

“They were very happy. It was a relief to see the end of their suffering,” he said. “They had a cup of coffee in the hall, it went well and a rich conversation. The the separation from their parents and brother was very serene and beautiful. At the last there was a little wave of their hands and then they were gone.”

Under Belgian law euthanasia is allowed if the person wishing to end his life is able to make their wishes clear and a doctor judges that he is suffering unbearable pain.  The case is unusual because neither of the men was terminally ill nor suffering physical pain.

Just days after the twins were killed by doctors, Belgium's ruling Socialists tabled a new legal amendment that will allow the euthanasia of children and Alzheimer's sufferers.  The major and controversial change will allow minors and people suffering from dementia to seek permission to die.

"The idea is to update the law to take better account of dramatic situations and extremely harrowing cases we must find a response to," said Thierry Giet, the Socialist leader.

If passed later this year, the new law will allow euthanasia to be "extended to minors if they are capable of discernment or affected by an incurable illness or suffering that we cannot alleviate".

In 2002, Belgium was the second country in the world after the Netherlands to legalise euthanasia, but it currently only applies to people over the age of 18.  Some 1,133 cases of euthanasia - mostly for terminal cancer - were recorded in 2011, according to the last official figures.

In 2011, it emerged that people killed by euthanasia in Belgium are having their organs harvested for transplant surgery.  Last December, the Belgium-based European Institute of Bioethics published a report raising concerns over "the absence of any effective control" over euthanasia and "ever-widening interpretation" of the law.

The institute noted that over 10 years and 5,500 euthanasia cases not one had ever been referred to the police for investigation.

________________________________________________

So there you have it.  Right or wrong . . . Youth in Asia - legal in Belgium.

On Sale

The winter merchandise sales have begun!  That means that the streets are packed with bargain hunters for several reasons . . . primarily because sales in Belgium are on predetermined dates every year.

That's right.  Esprit can't just decide a few days before Christmas to mark their clothes down 25% in the hope of selling more and making a bigger profit on those holiday shoppers.

Nor can anybody else.

Here's the reason.  Sales in Belgium are regulated by law.  Now that may sound like "too much government", but for me, it's protection from getting screwed on that pair of leather boots I just paid 100 euro for only to find them marked down half price a day later.

Here's how it works.

Two times a year (yes, only 2 times), retailers are allowed to sell their goods at lower prices.

The Winter Sales are from January 3 to January 31.

The Summer Sales are from July 1 to July 31.

Everybody knows when it is, so there's no mystery as to when every retailer will put their stuff on sale.

This is the best part . . . the waiting period.  Remember those boots I mentioned?  That scenario will not happen here in Belgium because the waiting period takes care of that.  

The Winter waiting period is from December 6 to January 2.  Basically a month before the sales start.

The Summer waiting period is from June 6 to June 30.  Same as above - about a month before the sales start.

The "waiting period" means that retailers are not allowed to make any reductions in the prices of specific products like clothing, leather goods and shoes . . . which includes those boots :)  Now, it doesn't mean that I might not buy those boots anyway, but certainly not the day before the sale period begins!

The informed consumer.

So . . . although the stores may look like this on Day One of the Sale,

and the streets may look like this,

you are assured that those bargains will be gone in about 4 short weeks.  And that you did not get screwed on those boots you've been wearing.

I swear that is not me with that umbrella, but you can be sure it isn't a native Belgian!

I'm headed downtown!  I'm already late!

De Egel

Egel is Dutch for hedgehog and they are very common in Western Europe where we live.  Since we are mostly in the city, we don't see them often . . . although once I saw one that had been hit by a car :-\

I think egels will eat nearly anything, but they mostly eat insects.  They are also protected here in Belgium.  Earlier this year, I was horrified to see this photo on the front page of our newspaper!

Turns out a 67-year-old woman impaled this hedgehog in her garden with a pitchfork!  What was she thinking?  Apparently she couldn't explain what she was thinking either.  Her neighbor heard the poor thing screaming and was also horrified and called the police.  Despite the best effort of  the Wildlife Rescue Center, this hedgehog did not make it.  The woman was charged with animal cruelty and despite three separate articles on this one incident, the newspaper never reported on what her punishment was.

I've read they take animal cruelty pretty seriously around here so at the very least, she probably won't do this again and will likely serve a deterrent to anybody else thinking it's a good idea.

And speaking of egels, I saw this next set of photos on Pinterest.  

Warning.  Cute overload.

We Save Elephants

Gelukkige Nieuwjaar! 

Bonne Année!

새해 복 많이 받으세요!

Happy New Year!

This post has absolutely nothing to do with January 1st, but best wishes for a happy and healthy 2013!

___________________________________

In September, I posted about a display of elephants in Hasselt called the Parade of Elephants. 

This is just one of those 40 elephants that were displayed throughout Hasselt.

Since then, a gallery opened selling various sized smaller versions of these elephants . . . 

to raise money to save the Asian elephant.

A couple of them are specific to Belgium . . .

like this one called Belgium Fruits I bought as a souvenir for us,

and this one called Sweets for love I bought as a gift for our neighbor.

Each elephant is numbered and signed by the artist.  I think they're adorable and the added bonus of being for a good cause.

Parade of Elephants.  I hope it comes to a city near you!