Isn't it ironic?

According to CNN,

In an effort to make the citizenship exam more meaningful, the federal government said Monday it will test an exam that relies less on trivia and more on an applicants' grasp of American democracy.
[...]
The current test is heavy on historical facts and includes questions about the colors of the U.S. flag and the name of the form used to apply for citizenship. The new exam will ask about the Bill of Rights and the meaning of democracy.

In another story, the AP reports

Immigrants arrested in the United States may be held indefinitely on suspicion of terrorism and may not challenge their imprisonment in civilian courts, the Bush administration said Monday, opening a new legal front in the fight over the rights of detainees.
[...]

Ali Saleh Kahlah Al-Marri, a citizen of Qatar, was arrested in 2001 while studying in the United States. He has been labeled an "enemy combatant," a designation that, under a law signed last month, strips foreigners of the right to challenge their detention in federal courts.

That law is being used to argue the Guantanamo Bay cases, but Al-Marri represents the first detainee inside the United States to come under the new law. Aliens normally have the right to contest their imprisonment, such as when they are arrested on immigration violations or for other crimes.

"It's pretty stunning that any alien living in the United States can be denied this right," said Jonathan Hafetz, an attorney for Al-Marri. "It means any non-citizen, and there are millions of them, can be whisked off at night and be put in detention."

The new law says that enemy combatants will be tried before military commissions, not a civilian judge or jury, and establishes different rules of evidence in the cases. It also prohibits detainees from challenging their detention in civilian court.

Maybe George Bush needs to take that new citizenship exam as well. He seems to have forgotten all about the Constitution and Bill of Rights. If he ever knew anything about them in the first place, that is.

I guess this is a real incentive for immigrants to become citizens--until W decides to start stripping people of their citizenship when it becomes inconvenient.

Ms. Pelosi, cleanup on aisle five, we need you please.

Sweet November

Yes, Virginia, there is a Sinterklaas

Sinterklaas kapoentje,
Gooi wat in mijn schoentje,
Breng wat in mijn laarsje,
Dank je Sinterklaasje!

No, your eyes are not deceiving you. That is a photo of a little Aryan blue eyed kid dressed up in blackface with bright red lips. It is the cover photo from an advertising flyer for a local Belgian chain store. Why would anyone in this day and age be dressing their kid up like they were channeling Al Jolson? Welcome to my world...

In Belgium and the Netherlands, Christmas Day is not the gift giving frenzy that it is in the U.S. Here, children receive gifts on December 6, the feast day for Saint Nicholas. The day is called Sinterklaas after the saint. According to the myth, Sinterklaas, dressed in his bishop's robes, sets out on the night of December 5th on his horse across the roof tops of Belgium and the Netherlands to deliver gifts to all the good children. Children leave out a boot or a shoe that night so that the Sint can fill it fill toys and candy. At school, children are taught songs about Sinterklaas and even decorate old shoes and boots to leave out for the Sint. (Our American "Santa Claus" actually appears to be a derivation of the Dutch/Flemish Sinterklaas. It appears that Dutch settlers in New York--then New Amsterdam--brought it, and we Americans took it over and misspelled it. I guess they used Hooked on Phonics back then, too.)

Sounds wonderful--just like good 'ol Santa Claus, right? Well, take a look at the above photo again. Sinterklaas has a helper named Zwarte Piet--Black Piet. According to the legend, Zwarte Piet was originally the devil that Sinterklaas captured and enslaved to be his assistant. Over time, Zwarte Piet morphed into either a Moor (person of North African origin) or an African slave. And Zwarte Piet's job? To punish the naughty children leaving them salt in their shoe or (if they were really bad) by stuffing them in the sack that he carries and takes them back to Spain where Sinterklaas lives the rest of the year.

Now, I don't have a problem with the legend. What I have a problem with is people thinking that in this day and age that it is OK to dress up their kids in blackface like it's a joke. What is worse, adults dress up as Zwarte Piet, painting every exposed bit of skin black. I can guarantee that until December 6, I will see Sinterklaas and a white person painted black as Zwarte Piet at every outdoor market that I go to. And I will be pissed off about it.

My husband tells me that I am overreacting--Zwarte Piet is a cultural icon of Belgium and Holland, and I should get over it. He tells me that they do not have the same cultural baggage as Americans with African slavery and the racial oppression of black people (hmm, doesn't remember that whole thing with Leopold II and the Congo perhaps?).

To me, the problem extends beyond Zwarte Piet. A few months ago, I went on a shopping trip to our local Friday market. Upon entering the blocked off street, I was greeted by a bunch of college-aged blue-eyed blonds wearing Afro wigs, wearing African clothing, singing in gibberish African, banging on djembe drums--completely painted black. Not brown. Shoe polish black. I was so angry, I turned around and canceled my shopping trip. Again, my husband told me, "we don't have the same baggage as you Americans do."

I guess I can't buy that. Racial tensions exist here in Belgium between the local Flemish and people of African origin. I've heard my husband's family saying absolutely horrific things about East and North Africans. When I asked them how many Africans they know or are friends with, they told me they don't have to know any--that's how those people are. So, when I see people dressed up in blackface here, I don't see it as joking, I see it as racism. It's not cute, and it's not funny.

On Sunday, November 19, Sinterklaas and all the Zwarte Pieten will arrive "from Spain" in the port of Amsterdam. All the kids will go nuts to meet the Sint, all the local stores will have a visit from the Sint and Zwarte Piet, and my daughter will be enthralled by all of it. Right now, it is all fantasy and wonder for her. They are just magical people who bring her toys in the night. She is part Flemish, and Sinterklaas and Zwarte Piet are part of her cultural heritage. It's hard to back off and not start lecturing my four year old about why all people are the same, and why I think dressing up as Zwarte Piet is "niet flink" (not nice).

Boy, I really miss Santa and his elves.

Vanitas Vanitatum, Omnia Vanitas

I had to do it. Just had to go looking. Everywhere I looked, I found them. They shone in the sun, glittering an evil "heido-ho".

Yes, I have gray hair.

Lots of them.

Everyday time I look in the mirror, I catch another one lurking, stealthily skulking under a dark ashy blond lock. Often, they take on a the form of a twisted squiggle, unable to curl like my "real" hair, unable to be straightened by any product or 10,000W hair dryer known to the hairdressing world. I catch them standing straight up on the top of my head making me appear like a geriatric Alfalfa.

It really shouldn't come as such as a shock. According to my mother, one of my great aunts started going gray at 17. I know that my mother was mostly gray by her mid 40s. So now at 36, it shouldn't be surprising that I find these nasty silver strands shot through my hair.

But it still pisses me off.

I've known that I have had some gray hair since I found the roots of the first ones ten years ago. I haven't really seen them since them since I am a serial colorist. I believe that hair is just another fashion accessory no different than a pair of boots or a piece of jewelry. Hair color can (and for me often does) change with the season. I've had every naturally occurring human color (except black) since I started coloring my hair at age 15. Blond, red, auburn, dark brown, light brown, highlights, platinum. When one color started to get boring, one trip to the hairdresser was all it took to get a new look. As a result, I've colored my hair fairly consistently for the last 20+ years.

That is, until I became pregnant with junior (BTW, did I mention--it's a boy!). Most medical professionals recommend against placing strong chemicals such as hair dye against the skin during pregnancy. While I was pregnant with my daughter, I had my hair highlighted, a process that involves sectioning the hair with strips of aluminum foil and painting the color onto the hair without getting the dye on the scalp. If you have ever had your hair highlighted, you know that it takes a couple of hours at the salon each time, and to avoid looking like a weird skunk, you have to have it redone every two to three months. Expensive and time consuming.

Since I have yet to find a competent hair stylist in Belgium--hair dressers here only seem to know how to do three cuts (all meant for fine, straight hair which is the opposite of my hair) and fail miserably when required to deviate from that. They also only seem to know how to color hair Chernobyl red or over processed blond. There is no in-between. Until I became pregnant, I colored my hair myself. Since May, I've let it go au naturel.

And then they all appeared like cockroaches when you turn out the lights. As the dye faded (fade resistant color, my ***), they appeared, sparkling and twinkling in the weak Belgian sunlight. Silvery gray hair, some kinked, some stick straight, some standing straight up on the top of my head. Nasty, evil little harbingers of middle-age.

The worst offenders are the hairs I find which are my natural color on top but switch to gray halfway down. I hate those hairs the most. I can estimate how many months or weeks ago that hair decided to turn gray--the time of death when some hateful gene in that particular follicle decided to switch on and give me the genetic finger.

I know it shouldn't bother me. I am healthy, in good physical condition, and I actually feel better now than I did in my twenties. I'm not a vain person, not some manicured, Gucci wearing, expressionless Botox, collagen enhanced mannequin. Hell, I usually only put on makeup for special occasions and live in jeans and a T-shirt.

So why do these gray hairs bother me so much? Maybe because they are a reminder of my own mortality, a sign that we all grow older, that we can't stay young forever. No one likes to be reminded of that.

Oh, screw that. I just hate them. Time to take a chance on another salon.

Forgive me Bloggers, For I Have Sinned...

it has been over a month since my last post.

Ok, Ok, I have been very busy. I've recently starting doing some web development/design work that has been taking up all my free time (i.e., hours that my daughter is in school), and I've been rushing like a mad woman to get stuff done before she goes on Fall Vacation next week (the Belgian schools have 1-2 week long vacations in the autumn, Christmas, winter, and Easter--not to mention every Catholic day of obligation and EVERY Wednesday is a half day in this country--ACK!).

Plus, I've finally given up with the general Flemish population and started hanging out with the expat crowd--a group of people from just about everywhere (including Belgians and Dutch people who have lived abroad, and mixed marriages like mine). It's nice to finally have some kind of support network of folks who have been through or are going through the same things I am. Plus, it's also nice to be able to speak in my own language a couple of times per week. I'm tired of struggling to find words and phrases in Dutch and not being able to be myself. When I get to speak English now, I am thrilled by the feeling of just being able to speak about complex topics without having to think about it five minutes ahead of time.

As for the pregnancy, everything seems to be going just fine. At 22 weeks now, I can still fit into some of my regular clothes, so I'm not that huge yet. Unfortunately, the kid is sitting really low and on my tailbone and is a strong kicker--not fun when you already have a ruptured disc in your low back. I can't be on my feet for more than 15 minutes anymore without ending up in pain. Hopefully a few trips to an osteopath will remedy that (it usually does). Tomorrow I go in for the 22 week ultrasound, so I should be able to let everyone know if it is a boy or a girl (assuming junior/juniorette cooperates). Then we have to work on names, and ordering a new bed for my daughter (no small thing--getting new furniture in Belgium can take up to three months).

Please forgive my tardiness with this post--I should be back to posting a few times a week about the trials and tribulations of life in the Belgian hinterlands.

Coming soon...more on the continuing saga with my inlaws, and how they are now trying to get back into our lives (now that they know a baby is coming)--but they refuse to apologize, and insist that we say we're sorry and that we agree to continue having to take their abuse and do what they say (no s**t--these people are crazy)...

A visit to the arboretum

We've been having unseasonably warm, sunny weather here in Belgium--several days in the low 80s in September (where was this weather in August?). We decided to take advantage of it on Saturday by visiting the Kalmthout Arboretum near the Dutch border. The Photography Gods must have been pleased with me--I managed to get several good shots despite the fact that I am one of the world's worst photographers. Won't you join me on a walk through the arboretum?

Three tiny crab spiders call this flower home...

Stocking up for winter...

I used to make the nastiest purple gooey die from these berries when I was a kid (you can't get the stains out of your clothes, no matter what you try...)

This little frog actually stayed still long enough to let me take its picture

This bee looked like he was ready to head home (take a look at his leg!)

I love roses...

Hope you all had a good weekend.

Busy Week

I've been busy this week. I needed to finish up a few new outfits for my daughter (sewing is my favorite hobby--next to playing with computers and gadgets).

Plus, I've had my daughter home sick for a couple of days. Poor little thing was up all night the night before last with ear pain. My husband took her to the doctor the next morning thinking it was an ear infection. Turns out a fever blister had developed inside her ear canal! It seems that this is rare but does occasionally happen.



I've been running around going to Dutch classes, creating a few new databases, going to expat meetings, and taking photos of our exploding spider population. Things have been a little crazy this week.



Junior/juniorette (as yet unknown) has also starting kicking up a storm. I'm only 17 weeks pregnant and sometimes I feel like I have a ping pong match going on. I hope this one doesn't dislocate my ribs like the last one did. They say that childbirth is the worth pain in the world--no way. Two dislocated ribs and nothing but Tylenol--that is much worse (and goes on for over a week).

(ultrasound from 13 weeks)


Oh well, back to typing in Dutch vocabulary (and then memorizing them).