Spring 2011 in Pictures

Ansley age 4

Cocoa age 6

Maria getting ready for our picnic.  

Maria and Cocoa

Colin 8 months

Evan age 3

The spoils of the Easter Egg hunt

best friends

Colin laughing at his brother and sister outside

Holland and Tulips for Jennifer's Birthday, April 2011

Recent reports claim that homes and work spaces are too clean.  They are lacking in the good germs.  Now antibacterial products are discouraged as well as harsh cleaners.  More than ever it is important to let your children get dirty. It is time to make mud pies, let them play in beach sand, or plant a garden.

Neil was gone to Ohio doing his flight training to transport injured soldiers.  He came home with a wealth of new skills as well as a flight suit.  He is enthused about his new duties.  Unfortunately he had to miss my birthday for the second year in a row.  Do not feel too bad for me.  Our nanny Maria stayed back in Germany with us and helped celebrate my birthday by bringing out the Schnapps and toasting the occasion at midnight.  Then I woke to breakfast, fresh cut flowers, and a decorated planter of pansies.  Then for lunch she gave me an ice tray that makes diamond ice cubes.  To further completely spoil me, she made a cream cheese and chocolate ladyfinger dessert.  The children sang happy birthday to me as the dessert glowed with sparklers instead of candles.  No one has ever put that much thought into my birthday minus my husband and mother of course. 

To make up for the lost birthday, I requested that we take a family trip to see the Kuekenhof Tulip Gardens in the Netherlands.  We decided to make the five-hour trek for Easter. 

The first leg of the journey we wanted to visit Neil’s place of ancestry, Heinsberg, Germany.  In the mid 1800’s German immigrants came to Eastern Nebraska on both sides of his family. Yes, his parents are very distant cousins.  Perhaps this explains the quirks in our children. 

We stayed at the Holiday Inn, heeding recent advice from a friend describing American chains in Europe as safe bets and secret gems.   This Holiday Inn exceeded my expectations because it was Easter weekend the children received chocolate foil bunnies the size of their heads as we entered the door.  The Holiday Inn was in Aachan.  We thought this was a typical German village but when we got home we consulted our guidebook and found out that Aachan was the home of Charlemagne’s tomb.  (Oops, just a minor detail we overlooked)

That evening we head out to Heinsberg and discovered it was a sleepy town of perhaps 5-20 thousand with impeccable kept brick homes and farmland stretching out in all directions.  We went straight to the cemetery to look for family names.  The gravestones were meticulously carved and artistic.  Each gravestone was an original design.  No family names were found.

The next morning we woke up to a European breakfast not to disappoint:  eggs, fresh bread, sausage, lunch meat, fruit, yogurt, and even Champagne. 

Colin 8 months

Then we drove the 2-½ hours to get to the Kuekenhof.  Indeed the gardens were splendid.  Tulips of every color were carefully laid out in patterns, planted surrounding a lake with man made meandering waterfalls.  The reflection of the water in the lake doubled the flowers’ display. 

We found a hedge maze and the toddlers pretended we were in Alice and Wonderland as we tried to make our way out of the hedges. 

One of our first views of the Kuekenhof

As we sat down for a snack and ice cream, we should have been looking at the tulips and the windmill but instead we were looking at the colors of humanity.  People gathered from all over the world to see the tulips.  As we looked at the cars in the parking lot we scoped out all of the European countries present.  We decided the world was in fact becoming a melting pot.  Races and cultures were mixing almost as fast as technology is changing.  What will our new more homogeneous world citizens look like in fifty years?  Time will tell even over the course of our lives. 

Ansley age 4

We spent the day in the gardens and left to head out to dinner in Lisse.   We found a mouth watering Italian restaurant with salads that had fresh sliced tomatoes mixed with giant slices of mozzarella, olive oil and fresh Basil. Neil and I had high hopes of a night out on the town.  Instead,  we caved and spent the evening looking at the store case window of Thomas the Train set accessories and playing in the downtown playground. We ate at the local Donner Kabob.  In most European towns this is the fast food option.  Turkish immigrants start these take out places that have spiced rotisserie mystery meat, served with yogurt sauce on a pita.  Now we are Donner Kabob connoisseurs and I cannot say that I am a fan of the mystery meat lead balloon in my stomach. 

The sun was beginning to set, and I convinced Neil to head out to the fields of tulips to watch the sunset.  The Netherlands is desperately flat farmland reclaimed from the sea.  A canal surrounds each plot.  You can even go on a boat tour of the tulip fields.  Neil and I preferred to walk.  The toddlers preferred to run, through the fields of tulips, kick up the dirt and just get plain dirty.  Oh to be a kid again. 

The sunset over the tulip fields was my idea of heaven.  The light of dusk was reflected off the water in the canals.  Tulips stretched in every visible direction, planted in approximately five-acre plots of the same color.  First we visited the hot pink section, then the orange and finally the lilac ones.  The fields were a quilt pattern of tulips.  The children ran themselves ragged till the sun went down at 9:05pm.  We headed back to our hotel room of Der Nachtagaal (the Golden Tulip) with peace in our hearts and in need of a bath.

The next morning we went to an English speaking Easter mass in a vibrant church in Amsterdam.  Many African immigrants wore native clothes made out of gorgeously patterned cloth.  Afterwards in the social hall, the African crowd sang hymnals in their native tongue.  We took it all in and enjoyed the uplifting spirit of the mass, the booming voice of the male canter, and being drenched by the priest with holy water.

Last we departed for home.  We stopped at the rest stop to let the children out to run.  I gazed at the gas tank.  “Honey do we need gas?”  No not yet I am going to wait for an Esso station in Germany where we get the government discount $3-4 a gallon instead of $9 a gallon.  Not concerned I leaned my head up against the window to take a nap.  When I woke up we were in the middle of nowhere.  “What are you doing Neil?”  His response was “getting gas.”  I bit my tongue.  This is practically a first for me.  I knew on an Easter Sunday everything in Germany is closed including gas stations.  It would have to be a large village to have an open gas station.  After circling the country roads for about five kilometers we reached the gas station.  Sure enough it was closed as tight as a drum.  The Germans are religious about observing their holidays.  All business ceases on these national holidays.  I respect this tradition but it becomes a little more precarious when you are trying to get gas. We were down to 12 miles on our tank.

We see a young couple on a moped.  Putting our faith in the teen couple we ask where the nearest open gas station is.  They mumble Prum (not prune).  “Are you sure?”  They nod yes. They are our last hope as we head off blindly to Prum.  I am thinking the chances of Prum, in the middle of nowhere having an open gas station on Easter, is slim to none.  Meanwhile Neil lets off the gas on the hills, at his first attempt at hyper mileing.  Neil mumbles to say a couple of prayers.  I break out the faithful rosary. I am on the last prayer of the rosary as we reach Prum an enormous Basilica church with a gigantic stature of Mary comes into view.  Now I know we will get gas.  Having witnessed an Easter miracle we fill up our tank that only had five miles of gas left on it.  Neil buys ice cream bars at the gas station and we prost (cheers in German) to Mary and God with our ice cream bars.

Our handsome camera man

Evan's Third Birthday in Pictures and Ben Cornella's visit, March 2011

Ansley's Irish Dance Costume for St. Patrick's Day

Cousin Ben Cornella

Ben thank you for representing the Cornella family.  You rock.!

Switzerland, February 2011

Switzerland-Where do I begin?  The children came into our room excited at four in the morning.  As a result, we began our journey in the wee hours of the morning.  It is the best time to travel when the children are groggy, calm and compliant.  

Our travails took us south in the Rhineland Pflaz region of Germany.  Each region of Germany is a Bundesland and Germany is the Bundesland Republic of Deutchland, similar to the title of the United States.  Next we drove through France until we reached the border of Switzerland.  At this point I saluted my hero Roger Federer, Swiss Native tennis player, and took note of the unique Swiss architecture.  When I say unique I do not mean this in a complimentary regard.  Perhaps one of the greatest paradoxes of Europe stands the modern/stark/dank/angular/metallic architecture of Switzerland against the awe inspiring backdrop of nature's beauty to behold, looming and imposing mountains and glacial silt crystal blue streams. 

Our first stop was our Hotel Weisses Kreuz (White Cross)  We pulled into Interlaken and Neil described the town as "the Dinge is Binge".  Again breath taking backdrops against a grey sky, fog, mist and tacky tourist shopping (Swiss army knives, German cuckoo clocks better bought in Germany, expensive watches and over priced post cards).  The town of Interlaken looks as if it peaked in the 1960's and then has not since been revitalized.  A few surprise Swiss chalets dotted the hillside.  Most of them looking as if their hay day had passed and they were in need of a new coat of stain.  My guess is that many of these homes are second homes to skiers and summer residents, taking advantage of the seasonal lure of Switzerland.  When we pulled up to our hotel it was inaccessible, jack hammers blazing and dust flying.  Evan admired the skid loader and giant metal claw picking up the pieces of debris.  With a little ingenuity we made our way to the parking garage and stepped over the construction rubble to take refuge at the White Cross. 

A Lovely Ski Rack for $4.25

Speaking of ingenuity my husband had fastened our skis to the top of our luggage rack by wrapping the rack with foam and packing tape and securing the skis with zip ties.  A ski rack for a total of $4.25.  Judging by our future encounters with Swiss economy we could use the added savings.  Next we unloaded enough baggage for three large families considering the necessity for cold weather gear.  The ski vacation was mostly Neil's idea but who in their right mind takes three small kinder age four and under skiing???  Practicality and plausibility are not my strong suits.  I never really thought about the logistics of a ski vacation.  Let's just show up and see what happens.  

Neil and Colin 6 months old

The Weisses Kruez hotel had a white neon cross on the outside that provided a sense of hope to us weary travelers.  As we checked into our room I felt as if we had captured and bottled a European hotel room.  Tacky short carpet, white linens, under-stuffed pillows, no sheet, and a pile of fluff, I guess you could call a duvet were all present in the room.  Don't look under the duvet cover at the feather fluff inside.  The fluff is not so clean.  For dinner we tried to conserve by eating at the golden arches for a mere $55 or 53 Swiss Franks.  

Where do I start with the language in Switzerland?  Let's just say be prepared for any language, Swiss speak a pseudo-dialect of German Swisserdeutch, English, French, and Italian are all present.  On TV we saw Korean, Russian, Italian, German, and Chinese.  Switzerland is indeed multi-national.  It is no wonder they are so neutral.  How can one classify such a conglomeration?  To confuse us all, Sunday's mass was in Latin.  We spent the first ten minutes of mass trying to decipher the language.  The priest spoke Latin with an African accent.

In the morning our family awoke to a gourmet breakfast compliments of our hotel.  Food can redeem all.  Fresh bread was at the buffet table as well as unbelievable Swiss butter and yogurt.  The cows produce so brilliantly in the fresh mountain air.  Eggs, white veal sausage, tea, coffee, hot chocolate, and a smorgasbord of seeds and dried fruits were present.  We kept Colin entertained with a Zwieback aka dried German sweet bread.  

Then we eagerly drove off to the slopes while packed to the gills with ski equipment, snacks, and warm weather gear.  The drive to the resort provided many enviable vistas. The scale of Swiss nature is indeed grand; traversing the side of the road was an expansive boulder filled stream teaming with glacial silt and iridescent blue water.  Overhead the crags and rugged-steep-jagged peaks loomed throughout the Jung Frau region.

Our travel agent told us to stay in Interlaken for access to more activities.  That is the last time I listen to a travel agent.  Grindewald is the Switzerland of my dreams forget "the Binge on Dinge" of Interlaken.  Grindewald was beauty to behold with a view of the Eiger, the Monch, the Jung Frau, and the Wetterhorn  peaks.  All of these were center to the plot of Jon Krakauer's famous "Eiger Dreams".  The Eiger's north face is famous for it's perilous climb.  

Our perils lay before us.  We needed to purchase lift tickets, carry two sets of skis, boots, poles, a bag of warm weather gear, the diaper bag as well as transport the children up to the day care at the top of the mountain.  Neil bought us tickets for the cog rail to ascend the mountain to the ski resort.  This particular cog rail is famous.  The prototypical Swiss cog rail with its tongue and groove tracks and wheels would be our personalized family hauling experience.  We loaded into the cattle holding yard pin with all the other Swiss skiers.  The whistle blew and it was time to haul/stumble onto the train.  Evan could not make it up the giant step into the train. None of the Swiss skiers teaming with equipment were willing to help.  Neil and Ansley were busy taking care of the equipment.  With the baby in arm, warm weather gear bag, and ski poles, I miraculously hoisted Evan onto the step.  I am still not sure how the hauling procedure was possible.  

There was no turning back now as we tugged up the mountain to the famous "top of Europe" at Kleine Scheidegg cog rail.  The top vista and highest train station in Europe was the set for the 40 year old bond movie "On Her Majesty's Secret Service."  With my three Bond babes and husband in tow we retraced the steps of Hunky Bond.  The gears clicked and turned as we sat on board.  When we arrived at the top we asked where the day care for the children was?  The high mountain air must have effected the staff because no one seemed to know where the day care was.  Finally someone told us the day care was not at the top of the cog rail but at the Jung Frau resort at the top of the Gondola ride at the Mannlichen resort.  Wrong place, wrong time, minor miscalculation.  The views made up for the disastrous start to our day.  Back on the cog rail and down the mountain we went.  We loaded up all the gear and carried it 400 more meters with children in tow.  The base of the Mannlicheabahn was in sight.  We literally hurled our gear onto the Gondola and dove into the contraption as it circled the loading station.  

Finally we arrived at the day care.  The view at the top of Mannelichen was center point of a gargantuan bowl.  The bowl was bordered by the lineup of Europe's famous Eiger, Monch, Wetterhorn and Jung Frau peaks.  Post card perfect in all directions, Neil and I gaped at the spectacular view.  

We made it to the top of Mannelichen.

Thun, Switzerland

Our next day after another delectable breakfast, we began the Jones debate to make a plan for the days' events.  Outside the weather was dismal.  Rain loomed but at higher elevations the ski slopes were under a a blanket of snow.  One day of skiing/human hauling was enough for me.  Our last day in Switzerland we made a unanimous decision to drive to Thun (Toon), a quaint village on the far end of the two lakes.  With mist and rain present our view of the lakes and mountains was mostly obstructed.  Thun is a lovely Swiss village that centers on an enchanting river.  One of the trade marks of Thun is its bridges.  Some of the bridges have intricate patterns of wrought iron rail while others are wooden covered bridges with water wheels underneath that the water cascades through.  The water is so translucent that we are able to see a plastic chair that had mistakenly fallen into the river.  As a grand finale, we decide to eat at the local art museum cafe.  The cafe has what looks to be a cafeteria line up of cakes, coffees, and quiches.  I ask our waitress three separate times if we are supposed to go through the cafeteria line or be served at our table. Finally she guides me to the food and tells me to point at what I would like to have.  I begin to speak to her in very broken German.  The waitress is pleasantly surprised by my pathetic attempts at German.  

For entertainment it is fun to stereotype people in the various European countries.  All people love good food, smiles, flowers, and to laugh.  My stereo type for the Swiss is that they are even more subdued,  than their German counter parts.  The conversations are whisper quiet in barely audible German.  I suspect the Swiss would be the type to keep a secret for a life time.  All of this is conjecture of course.  

January 2011

In January Neil completed a two training session in San Antonio and will be doing a follow-up two week session in April.  He is obtaining the skills to transport wounded soldiers via airplane from Afghanistan to Ramstein Air Force Base/Landstuhl Hospital for the first leg of transport.  Then for the second leg of transport after stabilization and brief recovery the wounded soldiers will then leave Germany to go to Andrews Air Force Hospital in the DC area.  He is enthused about his new mission.  While Neil was gone Ansley insisted on buying her father gummy life savers for his "care package".  Her memories of care packages hearken back to the days from Nov 2009- May 2010, the duration of time when Neil was deployed to Afghanistan.  

As soon as Neil returned from the US we decided to do a day trip to a nearby town, Idar-Oberstein.  The village is one of the centers of the gem/jewelry industry in Germany.  We parked in a typical German parking garage that should have a sign "Honey I shrunk the parking lot" with minature spaces that look like they should be for motorcycles instead of cars.  Next we went to the shopping center and perused the jewelry and rock vendors.  The next leg of our tour was to climb the stairs up the mountain to an Evangical church built into the hillside.  The vista of the church looked as if someone had blown a hole into the side of the mountain with dynamite.  Then a church was constructed to fit inside the hole.   

Idar-Oberstein at one point in history had its own source of agates.  German craftsman are skilled in hewing the agates.  Eventually the agate source was depleted and tradesmen turned to Brazil and Africa for the raw materials.  Eventually the relationship with Brazil and Africa led to the trade of a variety of gem stones.  

Bruce Willis was also born in the village.  I assume his parents were in the U. S. Military as well.  

The grand finale of the day was when we visited the "Schmuck" museum.  Schmuck is jewelry in German.  We decided to divide and conquer and took each toddler on a personal tour of the museum.  We drew straws and I chose Evan.  I have to say out of the three children he is the roughest around the edges at the moment,  mostly because of the developmental nature of a 2 1/2 year boy.  A gem museum is a giant hands-on zone. The stewards of the museum, clean cut, high quality German citizens (probably volunteers) followed us around with Windex and a paper towel as Evan made his way with hands prints on the glass cases.  In the display room with the looming over sized quartz crystal Evan felt compelled to reach beyond the rope and inside the three foot tall violet crystal geodes.  I winced as one of the enormous geodes teetered back and forth.  How could something that was a thousand pounds and made of stone rock back and forth thanks to a minuscule push from our dear toddler?

Idar-Oberstein

Most intriguing in the museum were iridescent stones, hand carved with Greek figures and characters from the Goethe novels.  Germans had a 17th century obsession with the story of Dr. Faust. The protagonist is an accomplished scholar and comfortable in the world.  Yet his dissatisfaction still looms.  As a result, he makes a deal with the devil and bargains for magic to indulge in the pleasure and knowledge of the world.  In his evil personal exploration he manages to seduce, an attractive young maiden, Gretchen.  Eventually Gretchen is freed from his clutches.  One of the carvings depicts the damning deal between Dr. Faust and the devil.  

On our way out of the museum we spotted a Jewish memorial dedicated to all of the Jews in Idar-Oberstein that were deported or killed during WW2.  One could picture individuals being captured from their store fronts and row houses only to be sent away unknowingly to the concentration camps.  All of these individuals were every day folks trying to operate the local bakeries, banks, and so forth.  Names like Levy and Steinbeck were posted on the memorial.  The name Hestor Eckstein caught my eye, and as I gazed over to the nearest jewelry shop the name of the store read "H. Eckstein Schmuck".  

When Neil was deployed, I was pregnant with Colin.  I prayed to God that Colin would be similar to his Father. It is too early to tell but so far he has been all smiles and giggles.  He is now seven months and is crawling, saying mama and dada, and pulling up.  Up until now we have not know the color of his eyes.  They have been a generic baby blue.  Recently his eyes have been turning greener.  Maybe he will be like his father after all?

Colin 6 months

Several night ago as Evan was lying in bed retiring for the evening he told me "Mom I can't wait for breakfast.  It is just too long.  Can I have my cereal in the orange bowl tomorrow morning?" and he frequently asks "Can I dress up and be a Roman tomorrow morning?"

Christmas Season 2010

Maria helped me make gingerbread cookies to decorate the windows.

Ansley 4, Colin 5 months, Evan 3

This picture captures the essence of what happens when we try to organize three children under the age of five to take a picture. 

Grandpa Ed and Colin

Evan sledding

Our village covered in snow

Let me preface by saying I am enamored with the manner in which the Germans celebrate Christmas. Gone are the days of the commercialized Santa Claus. I was debunked to find out Santa and Saint Nick are two separate characters.   Christmas is a magical time in Germany with snow laden hills, roasted chestnuts, wood burning stove fires, and Christmas markets.  Germans use the word advent to refer to the preparation season for the coming of the Christ child.  Traditional advent wreaths are placed as center stage in the home with four candles, one per week, marking the time till Christmas.  Maria, our nanny, constructed one for our home out of fresh pine and ribbon.  Upholding tradition, the X-mas markets begin the first week of advent.  

Our first market experience was a double header.  We traveled to Landua, a city famous for its wine for the day, and then followed with Deidesheim for the eve.  Both markets fit the prototype perfectly.  At Deidesheim there was a towering Farris wheel whereby Ansley and Evan had their first very kalt (cold) Ferris wheel ride.  

A person could be blindfolded at a Christmas market in Germany and still know exactly where they are.  Olfactory rules.  Gluhwein or warmed spice wine is served in festive mugs personalized for each market.  The olfactory is further saturated with the smell of mulling spices.  Next, one can almost taste the meat as the scent travels from the open fire grills.  Patrons can have their pick of Bratwurst, Knochwurst, or Currywurst.  

As we continue our journey next we encounter the Pflannkuchen booth.  Thick pancakes are served with applesauce.  Meanwhile, we have not heard a word from the children yet.  To silence a toddler is a rare occasion.   Collectively all of our senses are swimming.  In addition, thousands of Germans are silenced by the atmosphere of the lights and the log cabin looking booths, adorned with fresh greenery, nuts, and bows.  Each booth is personalized by the craftsman selling his or her wares.  One booth offers hand made wicker baskets in every size.  Another sells leather purses advertised with a touch of "wild".   The booth that wins the gold ribbon is the chocolate booth.  It is decorated impeccably with gold bows, spray painted nuts and gunny sac material all mixed with fresh pine.  I have never in my life witnessed such a display of confections with fruit dipped in chocolate on sticks available in milk or dark chocolate.  Wild cherry and nuts are bonded together in a puddle of chocolate. Chocolate dipped pretzels, bon bons, and dried dates and nuts add to the display.  We made a unanimous decision to try the chocolate dipped fruit on a stick and were not disappointed.  

Grandpa Ed and Ansley

The goose and meal Neil prepared for Christmas

Grandma Rodgers was woken up by the elves.

To capture the heart of Christmas season, one must understand the concept of family.  With a clean house, toasty fire, and home made baked German goodies compliments of Maria's assistance, I was now ready to embark on the Rodgers' family European Christmas extravaganza.  Five months ago, my parents made a commitment to come to Germany and England to visit my sister and I.  Nothing would ever convince my mother to travel outside the US. except for her children.  Being the last two people to be likely world travelers my parents have visited two continents and three countries to visit their children.  Last winter they made a trip to visit my brother who is studying to be a priest in Peru.  

The last preparation I made was to purchase a fresh pine arrangement for our entry way containing a large red candle.  The Germans are second to none in their ability to create arrangements with pine and capture the spirit of the season.  Finally, my parents arrived on the 23rd of December.  Neil procured my parents from the airport.  My father made a comment that insinuated that Neil was driving fast on the Autobahn, maybe 90-100 miles an hour.  What a thrill to take your in-laws for a joy rid on the autobahn.  Neil covered his tracks saying a Porshe passed him going approximately 130 mph.  Remember speed is always relative.

So this part is MEGA embarrassing.  Evan greeted my parents with his classic show off duck waddle and his favorite slogan "three, four and a butt score" and then proceeded to show off his manhood.  We all gasped and then pretended not to notice.  I must have turned five shades of red.  Please welcome the Grandparents.  

Wasting no time, we took my parents straight to the Christmas market in the local town of Kaiserslaturn. My parents seemed to catch onto to our culinary antics right away.  First stop was for sausage, then crepes, then Hack steak on a bun, and lastly warm candied walnuts.  Luckily we walked around and were able to burn off some meat by swaying to the music of a cover band singing George Michael's "Last Christmas I Gave You my Heart."  

The next day was Christmas Eve and we celebrated by taking the usual half hour to bundle up the tribe and head out to the local sled hill.  The Germans had the same idea and us rookies joined them with our plastic saucers with handles.  Most of the other people on the hill had official looking wooden sleds.  One couple was particularly serious with an over sized sled covered with an animal pelt.  The sled looked just as sexy as a Harley Davidson.  At the end of the day we had to cajole Grandpa to go home.   

The next day we attended the local German mass in Weilerbach.  The service included traditional German Hymnals, an organ, and dangerously well behaved toddlers.   Neil spent the day cooking a feast fit for European royalty.  We smelled the goose stuffed with fresh herbs and lemons.  The Christmas goose tradition began in England under the reign of Queen Elizabeth.  The queen was feasting on Ganza when the English defeated the Spanish Armata.  The goose was made a national dish.  I am still thanking Queen Elizabeth because our goose was delectable.  Additions to the meal included fried shredded potato cakes served with applesauce and cream, mini pancakes with smoked salmon, herbed cheese and caviar, brussel sprouts, and cranberries.  Did I mention I married the right man? 

Aunt Julie and Jennifer, sisters

The next day my sister and her friend Mapi (both are Fraternas/consecrated lay persons/ translation about 95% nuns) arrived. Mapi is from Peru and it is a privilege to know her.  Both her and my sister specialize in the art of children charming.  The pair played all the right imagination games including slaying dragons and making the toddlers knights.  The aunties shared cookies, wrestled, and maintained their general magical mystique.  To be wonderful in the eyes of a child is the ultimate compliment.  Ansley still prays to God every night to see if he wants her to be a nun.  She wants to be one because she loves Jesus and wants to wear a cross.  Evan proclaims he will be a priest. I think to myself I better have more children or I am going to end up with no grandchildren. 

Mapi and Julie, the children charmers

The last adventure for the Rodgers/Jones family was the "Freedom Volkswagen (folkzvagon or something like that) Heilderburger Tour"  With all of my idealism I wanted my guests to receive an authentic taste of Germany.  We had to travel or shall I say tote the masses.  Picture in your mind a small bus or shant I say a large van.  The gentle giant, the running ostrich, the oil leaking, diesel smelling, gas guzzling piece of German machinery.  We set out in the van FULLY loaded, toddler gear, winter clothes, and sausage sandwiches.  I had to convince Grandpa not to bring the dog and a few stray cats.  Grandpa was the co-pilot/trusted coach/cheerleader.  He directed my backing out of the driveway.  Led by the GPS we made our way to Heidelburg.   We had to roll down the windows to vent the diesel and keep the windows fog free.  The wipers squeaked and the windows were covered with the salt and grime from the road.  

The caravan continued and the next problem encountered was parking the van.  Spots for buses in Europe are as rare as white buffalo.  Finally we wound up the road to the castle as I cursed the four S's:  snow, steep, slick, and stone.  Finally we were able to park the metal hunk at the top of the hill. We toured the castle, the fine edifice it is.  

Then I convinced my parents to walk into the Aldstadt (old town) to visit the world famous Heidelburger Zuckerlander- a gummy bear shop.  My mother whispered sweet nothings under her breath as I drug everyone down the icy cobble stone hillside.  Needless to say Heidelberg Sugarland was worth the trek.  Adventure always yields large dividends.  Home made gummies with real fruit juice, a whole wall of gummy rats, bears , strings, fruit pieces.. you name it.  A German Frau manned the wall with a scoop.  We requested a mixed bag.  The man running the cash register was as unique as the store itself.  He looked like a combination between Willy Wonka, Johnny Depp style, and the Mad Hatter.  He had a long, slender pointed goatee and died blond hair.  He raised his eyebrows and asked the price of the bag.  I said funf Euros.  He replied "Oh you want to learn German Funfffffffff Euros."  He than produced an over sized hat, further confirming the Mad Hatter theme, and play a legalized version of gambling with dice with gummies as the spoils.  

Let us just say the ride home included gummies, darkness, snow, low visibility, a screaming baby, a 20 minute bathroom detour, white knuckles, and our friend the Vanigan.  Upon our arrival our German home never looked so nice.  In unison we canceled our impending travel plans for the next day.  Never mind the wasted extra day of bus rental.  you can't put a price on sanity or piece of mind.  

The family visit was a definite success. Thank you to all my family who made sacrifices to come here.  We would love to have more visitors. . hint, hint .  . .