Europe has it's own set of rules when it comes to nudity, and I find myself in a bit of a conundrum when trying to explain this to my kids.  I am all for modesty.  I am also all for my kids growing up without a sense of shame about their own or other people's bodies.  We're relaxed about it at home, but haven't had to tackle the subject of public nudity yet.
 
At this point in my life I am absolutely beyond being shocked.  Nursing school and a rather unfortunate encounter with a fully naked man riding a moped has cured me of that.  There was also the topless grandma playing badminton on the beach directly in front of me, and the Marine posing near the water's edge wearing nothing but a wristwatch.  Yes, I have seen much and, dare I say, entirely too much on the part of the Marine.

However, my kids...my sweet, innocent, know no shame yet kids, have not been privy to any of this.   Until "Badi" season.  The local swimbad has given them their first experience living in a culture that does not immediately equate nudity with sexuality.  Women go topless, men change their swim trunks in the open, kids strip down and dry off on the grass.  It's a tricky thing to explain, and I find myself with few words and frequent shoulder shrugs.  Because really, what can one tell a kid when the sixty year old flashing his backside is simply trying to change quickly and head home for dinner?  Or when the kid on the next blanket over gets his swim trunks in a bunch and takes them off in frustration?

It's strange and freeing and a bit uncomfortable all at the same time, and so I am left to ponder explaining without shaming.  Yes, a conundrum indeed.

Kimberly

I've been quietly and steadily increasing my running lately.  I took a long hiatus with our move, and am just now starting to find my way back.  A few years ago, when I had just begun running, I read a fantastic book called "What I talk about when I talk about running" by Haruki Murakami.  In it Murakami explores his love of running and it's interconnectedness to the other aspects of his life, specifically his writing.  At the time it resonated with me, but I didn't fully understand what he was getting at, the writing, the running, how it all fits.

The mind and the body each crave their own kind of freedom.  My mind craves words. Words give flight because they are decision makers, heart breakers and everything in-between.  But the body, it craves the freedom of a fight.  When I run I fight every can't and won't and never will be.  I face down doubt, and refuse pain.  I keep running and pretty soon the words that don't give freedom give way the ones that do.  Words like can and will and might someday be. 


Two years, one marathon, and the start of another training season later, I know what it is I talk about when I talk about running. 


Kimberly

We finally saw a sliver of sun on Friday evening from exactly 8pm to 9pm, and as luck would have it, there was a local "chilbi" or carnival in town.  I was curious if it would feel foreign or familiar. I have since learned that cotton candy, bright lights and stomach churning amusements are also a universal experience.  As were the groups of tween girls with their dangly earrings and overdone makeup, the boys standing around trying to look cool but fighting the urge to push and shove each other into the mud, and the little ones fussing for want of another sweet.  It seems we're all cut from the same cloth.

Some things are universal.

Another universal truth?  Time moves too fast and babies become kindergartners and firstborns become middle schoolers and mom's cry at the gain and the loss.  And so this week I am celebrating beginnings, endings, and the universal language of mother love.





Kimberly

Today I'm guest posting over at one of my favorite blogs, Chatting at the Sky.  Emily has been kind enough to share her bit of space with me while she spends some time focusing on writing her book(s).  Yes, that is books, plural.  She's either amazing or crazy.  Writers are usually a little bit of both.  If you get a moment, pop in and say hello.  Be sure to take a browse through some of her previous posts.  They are food for the soul.

Kimberly

Thank you all for your book suggestions.  I have much to consider, most importantly how I will fit in all of the reading I plan to do given the whole "three kids" thing I have going on here.  Once again the weekend was rainy, so we spent most of it indoors wishing we weren't.  Michael and I did manage to hire a babysitter and have our first night out without the kids in over two months. Very good times.

We had sushi then topped it off with an ice cream before going to the movies to see Robin Hood.  Oh Russell Crowe, you do age well.  At least I think so.  If was hard to see beyond the simultaneous French and German subtitles.  Exactly half way through the movie, the film cut out abruptly and flashed an advertisement for ice cream.  In unison, the audience sighed audibly then immediately vacated the theater.  Being the sophisticate that I am, I knew that it was the customary and completely unnecessary, ill timed intermission.  Michael on the other hand was in a rare state of confusion.  He could not imagine why an entire theater of people would give up and leave within seconds of a technical glitch.  He was ready to camp out in protest if need be.  It turns out that wasn't necessary, it was just a ruse to get folks to part with their swiss francs at  the concession stand. One bottle of water and bag of nuts later...resume Russell.

On a totally unrelated note, you may or may not know that I've been on a six year long search for my look alike celebrity.  (I know, I need to get a hobby) And guess where I found her?  Emily, my long-suffering friends and I thank you.

Kimberly

We've barely managed a spring here this year, and so it seems that summer has crept up on me very quickly.   Growing up, summer hours were spent perfecting my back flip at the neighborhood pool, chasing fireflies and friends in the muggy evening heat, and filling every moment in between with a good book.  It never occurred to me as a child that most kids didn't make bi-weekly visits to the library and come home with shopping bags filled to bursting with books.  While other children were playing softball and chasing down the ice cream truck, I could be found sitting on my bedroom floor hidden between the beds, crying over Little Women.  It was perfection.

With summer imminent, I feel it's time for the compilation of the summer reading list to commence.  In other words, kindly comment with any and all book suggestions.  This spring I've had a particularly good run of books, and I wouldn't be a true friend if I didn't share as well.

The Girl Who Chased the Moon- Just delightful. A perfect summer read.

The Swan Thieves- Takes a little effort, but well worth it.  Particularly interesting to art history buffs.

Open House- My first Elizabeth Berg book.  Her attention to detail is amazing.

The Weed that Strings the Hangman's Bag- Good gracious, this series is a hoot.  I adore everything about it.

Has anyone read any of these?  Thoughts?

Kimberly

A few weeks ago, in anticipation of Michael's trip to the US, I made a few online purchases and had them sent to a friend in New Jersey.  A few might possibly be more like thirty or so, but that's not important.  What is important is that my husband had to bring it all home with him.  Before he left we had a brief and somewhat distracted conversation about how many suitcases he should take with him.  My vote was for as many as humanly possible, his was for two.  I guarantee he regrets that decision.

A man carrying a barbecue and two suitcases double his body weight is not inconspicuous.  His suitcases were inspected and receipts were requested, but he sailed through customs relatively quickly without a fine.  I think the Swiss officials were in awe of the fact that someone would actually bring a grill, grill stand, copious amounts of Secret deodorant, a giant sized bottle of vanilla extract, women's boots, abercrombie tshirts, seven DVD's and People magazine (the Twilight Saga issue, if you must know) across the ocean.  That is the short version of the list.  I won't even get into the lawn care products, curtains and hand towels.

The obvious question is why?  Why would someone feel the need to buy a bag of Nestle chocolate chips the size of a small animal, and lug it to Europe?  Surely they have towels and barbecues and chocolate(!) in Switzerland.  The answer to this is yes, they do have all of these things in Switzerland.  And they cost about double what we pay at home.  And they come in much smaller sizes.  And you have to go to about ten different stores to find everything on that list, and pay for parking, and squeeze into an impossibly small parking spot, and pay for the bag in which to place your teeny tiny overpriced purchase.

Instead, I ordered online, sent Michael to Target, paid half, got more and now have a grill and some cute clothes to wear while cooking on it.  Note to self: insist on one more suitcase next time.

Kimberly

This week Michael and I are celebrating fourteen years of marriage, and eighteen years as a couple.  I've been asked the secret to our success.  The secret?  There isn't one.  It's persistence.  It's consistency.  It's deciding that we are "for" each other, no matter what. It's an awful lot of hard work.  It's forgiving and starting over, again and again.  It's knowing there is no way out, the only way is forward.

It is making a promise and keeping it.

We mentored an engaged couple a few years back who, when confronted with this reality, said with some anguish "If marriage is so hard, then why get married?".  And we laughed, because the real secret of marriage is this; it is worth it.  It's knowing and being known.  It's a faith builder, a heart healer, a hope bringer.  It's a living, breathing reflection of Christ's love for us.  It's doubled over, clutching your stomach laughter.  It's companionship and affection and secret smiles across the room.  It's phone calls home at the end of a long day, just to chat.  And it is deeper and deeper with every year.  Even the bad ones.

It is what I thank God for every day.

Kimberly