May 2008 Archives

And I also went for a new prescription, and guess what. It didn't change. And now the optometrist is sending me to a specialist because she thought she saw some damage on my optical nerve. Glaucoma is the pet disease in that office. You've just got to love the Canadian health care system. God, are these people thorough. The things they already ruled out on me. It's not possible to be a hypochondriac in this country, the doctor will do that for you. And I also was in paperwork for an hour, I so enjoy paperwork. My accountant made me scan and email half my binder. He called back later, he claims I made myself three thousand dollars in that hour. Certainly beats drawing. I am considering taking up paperwork as a day job.

Colour instead of lines, but other than that, today was an almost exact copy of yesterday. I didn't get new glasses either. Josephson did call, and I had been looking forward to looking different. And then I went there after dinner, to find they had put the wrong lenses in the frame. My old frame broke last week, and I had told them to put the same prescription in my new frame, because that prescription is still perfect. Turns out the most recent prescription they had on file was wrong, I changed back to an older one after starting blood pressure medication. Do you still follow? I don't know if they will hold me responsible for not thinking of that. I think they should have checked the lenses in the old frame, and not have solely relied on their computer file. But now they talked me into going to see the optometrist for a new prescription. Which is useless, because I see very very well trough my old glasses. It is two broken temples that are the problem.

I don't know what it is with negotiating contracts. But after thirty or so emails I start to like them, not much I can do. So I thought I'd just do them fast, but I couldn't possibly do the colouring as well in one day. And I ran into some delay, I couldn't find my bottle of ink. And nobody in our street had ink, can you believe it, what are those people thinking. So Michiel stopped at Staples on his way home. And I didn't really work until this late, but Michiel had bad thumb pain. He needed three episodes of West Wing, so I couldn't get to the computer. And now Juffrouw Ooievaar is CJ.

Two letters about my VPRO cover! (Thank you Pom for sending me a picture) The first one is very very nice, and the art director already forwarded that one to me last week. And I thanked the person who wrote the letter. But the second letter is just too good. I'll translate, hold on tight:

At long last, by Eliane Duvekot, a beautiful cover. Funny, artistic, somebody who can really draw. I find most covers aggressive, or clumsy, and I often tear them off, so I don't have to look at them for days. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. Congratulations with this little work of art, I hope she may do the cover more often!

Anugita Weeda

Yes, it is Monday, and I did do laundry. But there is a storm on its way, so the laundry stays inside. I am happy people like my VPRO cover so much that I am selling prints like hot cake. Right. I can't say much about Orbit yet, he's totally doped out on Tramadol. Our neighbour Johannes, who is a chemist, says we need a lock on our kitchen cabinet. With Michiel's Oxy's in there too. Which I don't think he is taking anymore anyhow. Not that his thumb isn't still killing him. But he switched to something more naturopathic, my dear alternative husband. The porch now smells of hippie shit in the evenings. Peace. Oh, and look at my feet, Piffin gave me a pedicure with her Dremel.

Now she is making her own footwear. The future must hold great things for my daughter, there is no doubt about it. Unfortunately there are doubts about Orbit's future. Since yesterday it is clear his hernia is back. A limp every now and again, refusal to climb stairs, difficulty getting up in his chair. And he squeaked when I tried to pick him up. And we are not going to do another three and a half thousand dollar operation. So I called the vet this morning, holding it fully possible we were going to have to put Orbit to sleep, but then he wasn't actually doing very bad today. Not a hundred percent, but let's say eighty. Auntie Clare, bless auntie Clare, drove us to the vet. He's on steroids now, and anti-inflammatory meds, and has to be kept on a resting regime. And then his body should be able to deal with any disc material floating in places where it shouldn't be. The vet thought we may have caught it in time.

Fat women, not overweight poses. I was criticized in yesterday's comments. But honestly, I am liking the legendary Canadian niceness more and more. We are still living the multicultural dream here you know, don't you come and disturb it. People in all shapes and sizes, with all different challenges, it's all good. We haven't had Fortuyn or van Gogh murders, our media are not dominated by plebeians with points of view, Canadians don't say everything they think out loud. And political correctness is not a derogatory term here. Love it. And Piffin and I went to the lumberyard today, and bought trim for the new windows. And Otger and I laughed at a kissing couple in our alleyway. It used to be quite safe to kiss in our alleyway, but not anymore, with our new windows. They ran away in shock when they saw us.

I planned to blog a small series of one minute ones, if only to document some overweight poses. But I decided it would be to much work to scan them all. They would each need two or three scans. And then patching them together, it would take me an hour. So no. Let's see, is there at least anything interesting to tell you. Yes, on my way back in the streetcar I was sitting behind a guy with a whitehead in his neck. And after three hours of drawing my brain is overactive on visuals as it is.

Now for a change it's not myself proudly holding something up in front of the camera. It is somebody from my dear readership, emerging from anonymity! I hope she doesn't mind me uploading the picture, I think I made it small enough. And I thank her very much for sending the photo. For the information of everybody non Dutch: the VPRO Gids is a TV guide. Not just any TV guide mind you, it is the VPRO Guide! Dutch public TV and radio are hard to explain. The programs are made by government funded associations. The more members such an association has, the more airtime it gets for its programs. It's really very old fashioned, there is a catholic association, a protestant one, a socialist one, and a couple of secular ones. And petite ones for muslims and buddhists, and maybe more, I would have to look that up. But I'm not going to. The VPRO used to be protestant, a long long time ago. Nowadays the VPRO is for people like us. Me and you, my dear readership.

My dear father-in-law has also received his VPRO-Gids.

It's not often that I show you a picture of within one of our neighbour's houses, but this one is just too good. Donald (the one with his feet up) is a horticulturalist. He knocked on our door today, just as I was scraping off paint in the tiny hallway behind our front door. "International landscapers!" he shouted, and he had his spade with him, he was serious. He dug two holes in our front yard, and then he schlepped me to the pond in his back yard where he had some trees waiting for us. A gigantic Hibiscus, I forgot what it's called in English, and something else that blooms a lovely red and costs three hundred dollars if you buy it. I felt so bad, I couldn't even pay them back with some wine, all the stores are closed Victoria day. And on top of that they invited us over. So we brought Piffin's croissants (Piffin keeps perfecting her croissant recipe), and my meatloaf. And Gerald and Don got us drunk. Continuous wine from four till quarter to ten, that'll do it. Exchanging gossip all of these hours.

Here's a nice Sunday brunch for you. Michiel found this through one of his 3D forums, and if you google Kittiwat you'll find he's all over the internet. No wonder. But that won't keep me from uploading him onto my blog, because I find this truly fascinating. I linked the picture to a blog that explains everything, and shows a youtube clip in which you see Kittiwat at work in his bakery. Do you think vegetarians would eat his bread?

I am slowly starting to think about the subject matter of my upcoming economy series. And why not start close to home. The building in the middle is a castle. My father was born just outside the castle walls. So that would be the small building closest to the castle, or any of the three farms a little further out, or a farm that isn't there anymore. I think that would be our safest bet.

Update: I wasn't looking very well. There is a loud and clear picture of my father's farm, this is very awesome.

They were poor farmers, like all farmers at that time in this part of Holland. They were catholics, and catholics used to divide their farms among all of their sons, which made the farms and the farmlands smaller and smaller. (In the sixties they started to reverse this process, that is why the patches of farmland are not so small anymore in the picture, which is a great pity for the landscape btw) This unlike the protestants in the North, where the oldest son would be the sole heir to the farm. Which kept the farms big and rich and prosperous. My father was the youngest of eleven. All of his sisters except one became nuns. I would have certainly been a nun too, had I been born a generation ago. Nuns got an education, and they didn't have to go through fifteen pregnancies. But every good catholic family also needs a priest. And my father was the lucky one. He kept it up until after graduating from the seminary, so when he kissed priesthood goodbye and moved to the big city, he had a diploma. Smart move. From a poor country boy with no shoes, he made it to accountant with Philips. And that is more or less what my series is going to be about, stories like this from all around the world.

Client hunting is over, I am good until Fall. And it is my good old newspaper. And it is not even someone I asked for work, and I asked enough, believe you me. Which is bad for me really, because I already tend to the bad habit of waiting for jobs to just like that fall into my lap. Which is exactly what this one did. A twice a week over the Summer gig for the economy section. Economy and me, we go way back. Right. I told Otger I had good news and bad news. He wanted the bad news first. I'll be working a lot this Summer. Fortunately he found the good news much more impressive. I'll be making a lot of money. Okay, maybe not that much. That's all very relative anyway. But I have to remind you to keep reminding yourselves that nothing compares to loyal clients.

The Gator guys put the new windows in today, and they look fantastic! People walking by stop in awe and admiration, and the good thing is we can actually see them. We suddenly have VIEWS from all three sides of the house (the fourth is attached to the neighbours). And Orbit deserves a bone, he was such a good boy. I couldn't tie him to his rope like I normally do when he's out on the porch. The front yard was full of stuff, a giant miter saw and other fun tools, dog on rope, not a good idea. So Orbit was off leash the whole day. And even though he very obviously had no clue what was going on, or maybe because of that, he did not take off. And me, I'm just exhausted. I cleared the back yard while the guys were working, because it was the only place where I wasn't in their way. And after, I had to clean clean clean. Nineteenth century dust. Everywhere.

If anybody can save us, it is the VPRO.

We were a bit worried about how Otger was going to come home. His first night out ever, you could say. A birthday party of a classmate who lives just as far away from school, only we live South West, and he North East. And Otger on his own in the subway in the dead of night... But as always, all problems solve themselves, the kid's parents will drive him home. Normal parents would have made a fuss beforehand, about curfews and such. But we aren't normal and we don't do curfews. Without curfews kids will come home much earlier anyway. And don't worry about the drawing, these are just the flat colours. I need these colours to work fast when shading, I just tap the areas with my magic wand and I can paint away. I have two days left to Bob Ross everything to perfection. But I might take tomorrow off, the weather is awful nice.

Find the differences with yesterday. And welcome back to the blog, Hilde! Sorry I didn't get back to you right away in the comments, I was working on a drawing, see. I did miss you, but I get so many Belgian hits that I wasn't really sure if you were reading or not. I have no idea who all these Belgian visitors are. Some of them I get through Ann, but I also think all those old mailing lists are lurking here. Shall I try a Belgian roll call? Alle Vlamingen verzamelen, meldt u eens in de commentaarkes ze!

A good day. An art director with fast approval, a neighbour cooking a spicy lunch with soup and wine and everything, a husband with a healing thumb who does all the shopping and the cooking as far as it doesn't include getting wet, a son getting invited to a paintball and wii birthday, a daughter leaving her room for the first time in a week to go babysitting, a phone call from the window company that the new windows are going to be installed next Tuesday, a me with a pleasant disposition because of the lovely night last night, and then all that pure health in my illustration subject.

Had three bottles of wine with a dear friend of all of us. I feel my cheeks now, I must have laughed a lot. About the water, for example. The women got straws, and the men didn't, go figure that one out. And by Pete, Adriaan did not remember our first encounter, he said that either he is going senile, or I have too much imagination. But I am quite sure.

Okay, Michiel found out that the pills he is taking are also known as Hillbilly Heroin. It's getting better and better. Before long he is going to need the doctor to get off the damn things. Piffin knew of a cocktail of these pills with Viagra and muscle relaxants, I don't know where she gets knowledge like that. On a lighter note, I am back in business big time, my postcard worked like a charm. I am doing the cover of the one Dutch magazine with illustrated covers. The Dutch New Yorker so to say. I am excited!

Michiel had an encounter with the table saw. I wasn't even there, I was having a beer over at the aunties. Piffin came to their door and said 911 had been called, so Clare and I ran. We also called neighbour Peter who was working in his front yard. Half the Chinese church was in ours (they offered to pray, so sweet), and Michiel was sitting on the porch steps with a towel over his hands. Apparently that is what 911 tells you to do, to sit down and put a towel over the injury, so you don't look at it. It took the ambulance sixteen minutes, somebody timed it. The paramedics were very nice, and calm. Michiel was hyperventilating, they bandaged his thumb, and said we could go to the ER by ourselves, no need to pay for the ambulance ride. The ER was quite entertaining, all these hours, from four to very very late at night, I don't know, it was half an hour past midnight when we got home, the kids went for dinner in a restaurant by themselves. There was a girl in the ER waiting room, in full theatrical withdrawal. A woman had met her just before going to commit suicide, and decided God wanted her to save this girl. And the girl, Christel, how appropriate, decided she had found God. She seemed a sweet girl, deep underneath all her chemically induced behaviour. Her arms were badly scarred from cutting herself. I hope she got help and is doing well, but I very much doubt it. Michiel came out of the surgery ten minutes after going in, but just to get us in there with him, he couldn't do it alone. He needed for us to make him laugh, it was either that, or going into shock, shaking all over. So we joked as hard as we could. Another patient kept checking on him, it's very nice how people start bonding during these long hours in the ER. Anyway, after X-rays and new bandages he was sent on his way with an appointment for plastic surgery today, there was nothing for them to stitch. So today, in a much duller waiting room, the arthritis clinic for god's sake, plastic surgery. The doctor froze the thumb so they could have a good look at it. Together with another doctor he contemplated how to go about it, Michiel did his utmost not to freak out. Are you a fainter, the nurse had asked. No, I don't faint, I just shake and hyperventilate. Do you know yoga or meditation? They ended up shortening the thumb a little, bone too, I think, in order to get enough soft tissue to construct a new top. The doctor said there is a little bit of nail left. Nice pills, Michiel is almost as high as Christel.

I don't know if I would have used the same model, had I known the headline in advance. Good thing I'm not superstitious. I will explain the topic a little, in my own words. For the article, read the newspaper. Americana is a strange thing in Holland. I thought of looking up one of the radio programs to listen to while writing this blog entry, but then decided for the live feed of Langs de Lijn, the Saturday sports program. (Michiel is walking the dog, he hates when I do that) And of course, Americana immediately. A Dutch monument of the style, there are quite a few of them. (note the table cloth, the tiny beer and the cigarette, very Dutch) There is a clear parallel between sports and Americana. Guys my husband's age (but not him, oh no!) have this secret way of communicating, showing off obscure knowledge on soccer and Americana. It is easy knowledge, you don't have to be a rocket scientist, you don't actually have to understand anything, and still it sets you apart. It is what is left of the old days, they still have their subculture in which they can be excited when some new album is released. And it gives the poor males this much needed sensitive touch, I think they're endearing.

A day of normalcy. Or maybe not so normal, because not many people were doing what we did, the stores were empty. Auntie Michele and I love to go to the supermarket together, she has a car, I a license. And otherwise it takes a chunk out of their weekend, when also the stores are not at all empty. I then went clothes shopping with her other half, a parking lot the size of the Sahara desert, and big outlet stores all around it. Empty. You almost have to take the car to drive from one store to the next, it's weird. The aunties are going to Cuba for two weeks, so Clare (bottom right) needed swimming gear. I must say, I seem to have a talent for personal shopper. Clare said I was the first one in years to get her into a swim suit.