2.21.2012

1, 2, 3, 4 … I declare ski war


I’m not saying I take pleasure in my husband’s failures, no, no, I’m not saying that at all. But I can’t help it if a sinister laugh comes out of my mouth when he attempts to ice skate, clutching onto the wall as I saunter past him ... backwards.

See, despite his girlish sensitivity and affinity for nail polish, Jeremy is a man’s man. Every sport he tries, he triumphs. And frankly, he’s better than me at almost all of them. My secret snickers don’t come from being competitive; I’m quite indifferent when it comes to most competition – but it is nice to have something I can reign over. And last weekend, when Jeremy temporarily traded his snowboard for skis, I found it.

Below is a short video of Jeremy’s humorous shortcomings in his second-ever attempt at skiing. 


And yes, someday he’ll probably be a better skier than me, but for now, me and my sinister laugh will watch this gem over and over again.

2.07.2012

Weiberfasching: where ladies are king


Although we’re still struggling with the language after living in Germany for two years, we are a quick study on cultural celebrations.

Last year we got our feet wet for Amberg’s Weiberfasching; this year we dove right in.

For Weiberfasching (ladies' day during carnival), which usually occurs the Thursday before Fasching, women rule. Women cut men’s ties and are allowed to kiss any man that passes them (although the latter seems like something cooked up as “tradition” by the menfolk).

This year our friend Andreas scored much-sought-after tickets to a Weiberfasching party in Amberg and it was on. Tons of men donned too-tight skirts and wobbled on high heels while women put on their best Tom Selleck.

DJs forsook their usual techno and rocked old school beats, which kept the dance floor packed. We even heard a Deutsch version of Sir Mix-a-Lot’s “Jump on it,” a crowd pleaser in any language.

If you can’t make it to Germany for Weiberfascing, here’s the recipe – take one part Mardi Gras, add another part Halloween, and sprinkle in some of San Francisco’s Castro District and viola! 

Delicious every time.