Mr. Ambassador man

On Wednesday, the U.S. ambassador to Germany came to the International School Hannover Region. His name is Philip Murphy and he was coming to speak about the U.S. election process.

The audience was made up of students in grades 10-12 , a few of their parents, and a couple of rows of staff. Loud dance and techno music was playing, like someone was about to announce today's starting lineup. Five secret service agents walked in really fast, all together, and took their stations near the doors. They wore dark suits and earpieces and looked like they were ready to speak in code and take down anyone who tried to breach the security of the school auditorium. The ambassador strode in with his three piece suit and took the microphone. Here are some of the things he said:

"Hey everyone do you like this music? I put the CD together myself - (pointing to secret service agent #3) Show it to them, George." George holds up CD. Murphy starts walking up and down the aisle.

"Are there any Americans in the audience" a couple dozen hands go up. "Where are you from... Houston? All right, go 'Stros. How about you? San Diego? Wonderful city. Maine - are you a member of the Red Sox nation? Ok, I'm from Long Island too! We belong to the Snooty pants yacht club, do you? Wisconsin - did you see the Packers on Monday night?"

"How about Germans? How many Germans are here? People from other parts of Europe? Tell me where? Asia? Where from - Oh Malaysia, are you from KL or somewhere else? "(This goes on for a while, I will spare you all the schmooze).

"My kids go to an international school too in Berlin. Berlin is very diplomat-heavy so there is a lot of demand for international schools. Hannover is a lot more... diverse."

"America has a lot of shared values with our closest ally, Germany. There are the shared values of freedom, and democracy, and all that stuff."

Before I go on with the quotes, I'll tell you a little more about Ambassador Murphy. He was a Goldman Sachs banker who became the finance chairman of the Democratic National Committee. He donated $1.3 million of his own money to Obama's campaign.
So Murphy is a political appointee, not a career diplomat. I am sure he's well connected in the banking world which would help in his position... but I have a feeling the people who do the real work at the embassy in Berlin were not in Hannover talking to us. They were at the embassy, working.
Does this mean I should respect him less? No, and it doesn't mean he's not a good guy. I just didn't really believe much of what he said, which was ok because he didn't really say anything important.

"You know, in the U.S., if you are invited for a party where they have cocktails at 7 and dinner at 8, everybody shows up at least half an hour after the cocktails start (keep in mind that most of his audience is under the age of 17. How many cocktail parties are they invited to?). But in Germany, if you say 7, everyone shows up right on time. I love that about Germany."

He did talk about the elections a little. He did say that foreign policy isn't the main issue in the campaign, and that the economy is. He talked for two minutes about the electoral college. Then he had the kids take a quiz. Anyone who answered a question correctly got to have a photo taken with the ambassador. The questions on the quiz were things like: Which state is the largest in area? How many people live in the U.S.? When do Americans sing during sporting events? (That last one was actually a jab at Germans, who sing during the whole game. It was hysterical.)

And that was it. He strode out to the tune of "it's all about the money, money, money".... oddly appropriate.

Since I've been writing about stereotypes, Ambassador Murphy didn't do much to show me that he was helping the image of Americans in Europe. He was overly friendly, a little bit insincere, and didn't say anything that was really smart or enlightening... of course maybe that's the stereotype of a slick politician anywhere.

Indians, coffee, and other people

I have not posted anything in a while. This is mostly because... I'm busy. Weird, I know. This week I am subbing for social studies and PE. Next week I'll be doing science, hoping the kids understand everything perfectly or just don't feel like asking questions, because I won't be able to answer most of them.

There has been some time for fun, though. On Friday, Brian and I met up with a couple of teacher friends at the Hannover Indians hockey game. The game is always a good time, (even though they this one lost 4-2), because it's crowded, and loud, and smells like a combination of fried food, frosty air, cigarette smoke, and beer.

The stereotypes I notice at the game probably wouldn't even make a German think twice. . Before the game starts, 5 or 6 people skate out onto the ice wearing headdresses. They put a totem pole at center ice and play a war chant kind of a song before the starting lineup is announced. There's no tomahawk chop, but it's not too far off. One of the jerseys you can buy looks like it's made of buckskin with fake fringe printed on it.

To an American these images are, at mildest, a little politically incorrect, or at worst, downright racist. But if you've never met an American Indian, and if the places you go aren't named Indian names, you haven't learned about treaties and smallpox, and you haven't seen a reservation, then you wouldn't notice anything offensive in this characterization. If there was a Jewish stereotype out there, though, that you would notice.

Here are some of the images from the Indians that I found online:

There's another other image I noticed at the game. This one makes the Indian stereotypes seem pretty tame. It's the logo for Machwitz Coffee, one of the Indians' sponsors. It's printed on the shoulder of all their hockey jerseys:

Yikes. So I could try to rationalize this image and say that if you live in a country of very few Black people, and you see this as a quaint vintage advertisement, maybe it's ok... but I can't. It's just too wrong.

Is there more overt racism in Germany than in the United States? I don't know. I know there is a lot less diversity in terms of how people look and speak and dress. So I can understand why these stereotypes don't seem offensive to Germans, but I may never get over it myself. I'm not sure I want to.

The Indians games are fun. We will keep going, and eventually I will understand a little more about hockey. And the games will still be dirty and loud and exciting. I will get used to seeing the stereotypes out there and eventually they won't catch my eye so much... but you won't see me tomahawk chopping in the stands.

FKK - the naked people

Just past the Maschsee, the big lake in Hannover with the big scary carp, there are a series of ponds. It's a pretty setting - trees, bike paths, picnic areas, and naked old men. That's right, one of the ponds is what I like to call "the naked lake".

Last weekend, Brian and I were heading back from a bike ride on a sunny day and took a path past around a few of the ponds. I knew where we were heading, and what we might see there, but I don't think that Brian did. And, just as I expected, there was some pale, wrinkly flesh out on display as the members of FKK relaxed by the water.

Germans like to join clubs, like rowing clubs and running clubs and tennis clubs. It shouldn't surprise you, then, that the nudists also have a club. I researched it on Wikipedia (where else?).
The club is called FKK, which stands for Frei Koerper Kultur, or Free body culture. The FKK was founded in 1898 with the idea that nudity is natural and should not be taboo. The first nude Olympic Games took place in Switzerland in 1939. I'm going to pause for a moment and let you envision that....
Hitler didn't like the nudists very much and told them to put on some clothes, but the organization survived after the war and grew more popular as "naturist" beaches and resorts became more common in Europe. FKK membership surged in the 1960s, which might explain why the naked people in Hannover seem to be roughly at retirement age, though I try not to look for too long.

Nudity is not just for summer. The FKK also has houses where they hang out, serve drinks, and socialize. Maybe that's where the young, fit, attractive nudists hang out, if there are any. I don't know what else happens there. And I'm not sure I want to.

I think it's great that people are comfortable with their bodies, connected with nature, free of inhibition... I just might take my picnic elsewhere.

The week in Hannover

Here's what is going on for me this week:

I'm working in the school library because the librarian is gone on the 7th grade Outward Bound trip. It works out well for both of us - he gets to canoe with 12 year olds, I get to shelve books and learn to read to kids sideways and upside down while I hold the book out so they can see the pictures. There are books here in about 5 languages, and a lot of families come to the school library for all the same reasons you might come to a public library, if all the books were in your language.  All the librarians in my family should be proud.

On top of working 8 hours every day, I am still going to German class for 2 hours on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. I know I can do it, sort of like I know I can do long division. It's been a while, though, and the thought of it was making me nervous. But now I am in the groove again, helped by the fact that I'm not working that hard while in the library.

Yesterday in German class, we had three new students. One is from Turkey and his name is Jwan (ju-wahn), another is from the Dominican Republic and his name is Juan (hwan). We also have a Vietnamese woman named Hoa (hwa). I may have been the only student in class who thought this was funny. I immediately liked Juan because he is kind of loud, and friendly, and laughs a lot. There's something familiar about Latin Americans, or people from the Western Hemisphere in general, that I warm up to right away.

On Monday and Thursday afternoons I coach international school cross country team. I use the words 'coach' and 'team' lightly. Sports at the international school are offered once or twice a week for the kids who want to come. The big draw is that the tournaments, or in our case our one and only meet of the season, are hosted by other international schools around Germany. School sports are a North American/British thing that is sort of half-done here in Hannover; kids who are real athletes join a club instead. Cross country is not as cool as soccer, and way more exhausting than badminton, so our numbers are small. There's also no expectation that the kids have to come to every practice, or else. But, as Brian reminds me, I get paid a few euros to run after school with some nice kids. It could be a lot worse.

So that's my week, I guess. I just found out that tomorrow and Friday I might be in 4th grade instead of the library... I hope I can still practice reading sideways while I'm there. I just started to get good at it.

Eating animals

Brian and I have gotten weird about eating meat. Or maybe we've gotten better about eating meat. Or maybe we've gotten weird about eating better meat.
Let me explain.

In June, Brian started reading the book Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer. He wanted me to read it too. I wasn't sure I wanted to, especially right before we traveled to the land of barbecues and burgers. But when he started ordering pizza without meat on it, I knew that he was going through something serious. In order to experience it with him, I read the book.

Eating Animals is not a book that says meat is bad and you have to become a vegetarian. It's not about cute animals that are killed by mean humans. What it does do is examines the way that livestock are raised and slaughtered in the U.S., and what that means for the environment, for agriculture, and for people who eat. Foer takes a detailed look at factory farming and puts together a lot of issues that I had heard about in the past: how much corn is fed to livestock and what impact it has on global grain prices, making grain unaffordable for people in developing countries, the growing demand for meat in a globalized world and how there's no way that the Earth can support that much farming, how much by-catch is killed in open water fishing, how many antibiotics and hormones are fed to the animals we eat, how toxic the conditions of factory farms and slaughterhouses are to the people who work there, and how sick the animals we eventually eat actually are. He visits slaughterhouses and interviews ranchers. He writes about warm memories of his grandmother's chicken, family Thanksgiving meals, and his own on and off meat-eating habits.

I can't say that this book was the sole reason we decided to change how we eat, but it made Brian and I realize that we just couldn't ignore the issues.

It was tough not to eat meat in the U.S., especially when we were often the guests of family and friends who greeted us with warm hugs and corn-fed beef. But now that we are back in Germany and cooking at home, we've tried to reach a new solution: we will eat meat that is raised in a responsible, sustainable way. We know that it costs more and is harder to find than the regular staff, so we just won't eat meat as often. We've also been doing research on which types of fish are farmed in a disease-free environment that's not built on an endangered mangrove swamp. It is a little hard not to replace meat with just eating more cheese. I can be a vegetarian but giving up dairy products would stink.

I'd like to think that buying "happy meat" as I now call it would be easier if we were in the U.S. I could more readily talk to a butcher or order stuff online. There would be more vegetarian products at the grocery store. But that might just be an excuse.

There is a stand in the Markthalle in Hannover that sells meat from happy chickens and turkeys. There's some sort of certificate they have posted and the man working there told me something I half-understood about how the animals come from small farms where they are not fed anything artificial, or something like that. Then there are stands at the farmers markets in town that have a 'bio' or 'organic' sign. I'm not sure what that means. I did end up buying pork from a place that had a couple of certificates posted and photos of happy animals running around on the farm... I guess I just have to trust them in the end.

So what are we eating for dinner tonight? I am going to attempt to make falafels. If that fails, there's still some happy bacon in the fridge.

Back to school...

Brian and the international school kids went back to class a few weeks ago. Minnesotans headed back after Labor Day, and my nephews are in the classroom now too. But yesterday was back to school for me, at the Volkshochschule. My German class started again for the fall semester.

I did not completely forget the German language over the summer, but it set me back a little. The words were still there, buried under piles of English-language conversations, text messasges, TV shows, bagels and lemonade and barbecues.The German words started to shyly dig themselves out over the last few weeks and peek at the outside world. They were encouraged by my exposure to German-language advertising, awkward chats with the neighbors, muesli and sausages

So it's good to get back to class and let those words breathe free. Even though I'm not excited about getting back to the nominative, dative, and accusative case (which don't exist in English or Spanish), I do like the first day of class. I love to hear the introductions from my classmates, to find out what in the world they are doing in Hannover, in level A2-2 German class on a Tuesday afternoon.

There were 12 of us there yesterday. About half had been in the same class with me last semester and half were new. Here is a recap of the most interesting introductions:

Reza is a doctor from Iran. He's in Hannover for about 15 months to do a neurosurgery internship. Hannover has a famous neurosurgery center.

Olga is from the Ukraine and was a kindergarten teacher there. Her first husband died in an accident. She moved to Hannover with her second husband, who was sick for the last 6 years and she cared for him full-time. He died recently.

Nasser is Iraqi but was borh in Kansas City. She lived there as a child, then moved back to Iraq, where she studied to be a physical education teacher. Now she's married and is here because her husband is studying to be a dentist at a dental school in Hannover.

Janina is a retired physics teacher from Poland who moved to Hannover to live with her daughter and grandchildren.

Imha is from Vietnam. She has lived in Germany for three years and works at an Asian restaurant. Her husband is a barber.

James from Zimbabwe said he he has "no job, no kids, no wife" but is happy here in Germany.

Mohammad is from Afghanistan but lived in Iran before moving to Germany. He works a hotel in town. He has been married for three years but his wife is still in Iran. Eventually he might be able to bring her here.

We all had to say these things about ourselves in our limited German. But when everyone makes mistakes together, it's easier somehow. Those German words have a little more courage to come out and make an appearance, even without the sausages.

Kindergeld

Disclaimer: Just because I am writing about kids in this post does not mean that Brian and I are planning to have one. It does not mean we are not planning to have one. It's just a topic that I find interesting. Don't read into it, just read it.

Our friends Andy and Anne are due to have a large baby any day now. That got me asking about something I'd heard rumors of before... that when you have a kid in Germany, the government pays you for it.  So, to get the real story I did not look on the internet as I usually do, but talked to a real person, my friend Susanne.

My questions went like this, "so when you have a baby, the government just gives you money? like every month? cash?". I was skeptical. But yes, Susi explained, they give you money. And mom and dad both get paid leave. Here's how it works:

• When a woman is pregnant and employed, she stops working 6 weeks before her due date. Then she stays home until 8 weeks after the baby's birth. During these 14 weeks, her employer pays her full salary. This is called Muttershaftsgeld.
•  The parents then have the option to take extended leave. If just one parent takes it, mom or dad can get a maximum of 12 months off and will receive 64% of her/his salary from the government during that time. If they choose to share the leave time, then they can get a combined 14 months off (e.g. mom takes 8 months and received 64% of her salary, dad takes 6 and gets 64% of his).
• If you leave your job because you had a baby, the employer has to hold a position for you for up to three years. In some instances, the employer is obligated to take you back as a part-time employee if you request it.
• Once you have a kid, the government pays you Kindergeld (child money. I love how literal German is) every month. They desposit 184 euros in your bank account for each child, no matter what your income is. This continues until the kid is at least age 18, and longer in some cases if he/she goes to university.
• If you send your kid to a public day care center, the cost is subsidized by the government.
• There are also tax breaks at tax time, which are separate from the Kindergeld the family receives.

Parents in the U.S. are now shouting, "What a deal - let's move to Germany!".  The reason it's such a deal is that Germany doesn't have enough Germans. In fact, birth rates in Germany haven't been this low since 1946. This time I did look online. Here is a cool map: map of birth rates
and an article

So the German government is trying to make having kids really attractive, and decrease the financial burden on families. They also do it in reverse - public health insurance does not pay for contraceptives.

I haven't noticed that there's a shortage of kids here. Maybe it's because I spend a lot of time in a school. Maybe it's because I always see moms who are taking a year of maternity leave walking around with their babies. Is having kids is some sort of public service for patriotic Germans? Maybe. Somehow I don't think patriotism will be on Anne's mind when that big baby decides to arrive. 

Not in Barcelona...

This is the weekend we would have been in Barcelona, meeting up with our friend Erik for the last
few days of his three week tour of Spain. But then the McCarthy Austerity Plan happened, and the tapas restaurant we went to last night was the best we could do.

Here is what often happens on a Friday: After school, Brian and the guys go to the biergarten down the street, to have a few beers and solve the world's problems. I, of course, am doing something really productive, like studying or doing consulting work, or going on four hour lunch dates with my desperate housewife friends. After a few hours, Brian either a) comes home, b) calls to say he will be coming home, or c) calls to see if I want to come to the biergarten too (there's sort of an unofficial hour when it's ok to start inviting wives, girlfriends, etc.). Last night's option was C, so I headed over there on my bike.

On my way there, I was surrounded by a hordes of soccer fans. Some of them had German flags and German face paint, but the rest were waving a flag I did not recognize. It looked like someone had taken a Danish flag and colored on it with a blue marker. This flag, I learned, belonged to the Faroe Islands, and the people waving it were speaking some vaguely Scandinavian language. I'd like to think that I know a lot about the world and have at least heard of most of the places in it, but this was a new one for me. So today, of course, I looked it up on the internet. Remember, if it's on the internet, it must be real.

I learned that there are Faroe Islands are a protectorate of Denmark, but they are actually located in between Iceland, Norway, and Scotland. That's also known as the cold, wet middle of nowhere, and it is nowhere near Barcelona. The islands part of Norway for 800 years or so, then part of Denmark. Now they are officially autonomous and have their own queen. There are about 50,000 people in the Faroe Islands, which makes me wonder how hard it is for them to face the German national soccer team. And if there was a horde of Faroese-speaking fans in Hannover (not kidding, that's what the language is called), then there must have been a huge evacuation of the islands to get them here. Hannover should be honored, really. Though maybe the Faroese pulled in some Danish supporters too.
The game was a qualifying match for a the 2014 world cup. I guess they start early. Germany won the 3-0, but we didn't stick around to watch.

Instead we went to dinner with Andrew and Katja. There's something carefree and exciting in a little-kid way about getting on a bike with your friends are riding somewhere in a group. It's like riding bikes to the pool in the summer or to go get ice cream cones, except you are an adult and you are riding somewhere to drink beer. We ended up in the Linden neighborhood of Hannover, in the Spanish part of town, at a restaurant where they weren't terribly impressed that I spoke Spanish but served up some good calamari anyway.


So sitting at a German biergarten, watching Faroese fans, eating at a Spanish restaurant with our Australian and half German/half Dutch friends... it was a good night. You might be thinking, "out to dinner? that can't be part of the Austerity Plan." You see, the Austerity Plan is a little flexible. It's not a 'we can't have fun anymore' plan. It was a lot cheaper than going to Barcelona to eat tapas.

Happy birthday to me (that's the blog talking)

On September 7, 2011, I made my first blog post. Thanks for being a part of my little project. And happy first birthday to the blog.

How to make comments

A few people have asked me a few times how to make comments on the blog. Since the whole subject of the blog is my comments, I didn't really know what to tell you.

I just figured out that my settings would only allow registered users (those with a gmail account or other google login) to make a comment.
I changed it today so that anyone can comment. You don't need a google login.
At the end of each post, there should be a link so that you can post a comment. If no one has commented yet, it will say "no comments". Click on it.
Sorry it took me almost a year to fix that.

So comment away. I do it all the time.

The tax Mann

If I were a radio D.J., I would say that this post goes out to reader Nick Falk, who wants to learn more about German taxes. I would also like to learn more about German taxes, because so far all I know is that we pay them and they are complicated. I had to do some research, and this is what I found:

In Germany, you have to pay income tax. The American perception is that since we are living in a socialist, 'big-brother' type society where they take care of poor people and stuff, the taxes are ridiculously high. That's sort of true, since we don't know who's watching us, but the tax rates aren't as bad as you might think. Income taxes range from 14% - 44%.  The top rates are for individuals who earn more than 52,000 euros a year and couples who earn more than 105,000 and change (I won't do the math for you, but a euro is currently around $1.25, or less depending how our friends in Spain and Greece are doing). I think we paid something like 20-25% for last year's earnings.

You may remember that Brian and I had to pay the tax Mann (ha! that means man in German) at the finance office recently. This is because they looked at what we earned in the U.S. and what we earned in Germany. Then they put us in the German tax bracket for people that earn about as much as we did worldwide for the whole year.  So instead of paying tax rates for one earner working 4 months of the year, we paid the rate for one worker earning 12 months and a second earner working 6 months.  Ok fine, but could you have told us that ahead of time? Or at least warned us early enough that we could have lied to you? Or maybe I should have done this research earlier.

Other than income tax, everyone has to pay 'insurances'. These include health insurance, unemployment insurance, pension, and long-term care. If we live in Germany longer than 5 years, we can claim the pension money when we are old, no matter where we live at the time. If we live here less than 5 years, we can get it back as soon as we move.

Church tax is an interesting thing. It's optional. When you register for German residency, you have the option of listing which religion you belong to. If you do that, then you pay a church tax of 8-9% of your income. The Catholic and Protestant churches in Germany get something like 70% of their income from this tax revenue. In a place where not a lot of people go to church, I guess it's better for them than depending on unpredictable collection plates. We did not register as Catholic when we filled out our paperwork. Again, who knows who is watching us. I'd rather just throw some money in the basket and cut out the middle man. In order to receive the church tax income, the faith organization has to be officially recognized/registered in some way. That means that the Catholics and Protestants (mostly Lutheran), and the Jews (there are still a few of them) are ok, but the Muslims have trouble benefiting from the tax revenues. There are more Muslims than Jews in Germany, but they are not as well organized.

Then there is VAT - Value Added Tax. It applies to stuff that is sold and to services. The rate is 19%, but reduced to 7% for food. You never actually know you are paying it, since the rate is already included in the prices of what you are buying.

It sounds like a lot. I guess it is a lot. But keep in mind that, as Brian's dependent, I pay nothing for pretty great health insurance.

We'll have another post about what unemployment means, how the government pays you to have kids, and why scruffy people hang out by the train station with their dogs. Until then, I'll keep a low profile because someone might be following my every move.

Maschsee Hannover Triathlon

Yesterday I competed in my first German triathlon.

This was not my first rodeo, or triathlon as the case may be (I don't think they have rodeos in Germany, but I'm not sure. It sounds like something that could happen in Bavaria which is like the Texas of Germany).
 I've done a couple of them each summer for the last 8 or 9 years, but I didn't know if the German race would be like the ones I've done in the U.S. I had visions of biking against people wearing scarves and sipping bubbly water as they pedal along. It turned out to be more like an American triathlon that I expected... the same rules, the same distances, no scarves, and a lot of spandex. I just didn't understand most of the chatter from the other athletes. If someone talked to me during the race, I sort of nodded and kept moving. I probably would have done the same if they were speaking English. I wasn't out there to be chatty, anyway. 

Why do I do triathlons? A chance to be competitive I guess. I like to beat people, and I like the idea of being a well-rounded athlete, in sports that do not involve throwing and catching anything.
Brian and I have joked in the past that white people made up the triathlon so there was a sport they could be really good at.  There is a certain demographic - 25 to 45, white, educated people with enough money to afford some nice equipment. I guess I fit that demographic, even though the Austerity Plan might temporarily interfere with any plans to buy new gear. Of course, most German people I've met fit that demographic too. If you add that to the fact that most people ride bikes everywhere, and Hannover residents are big fans of spandex clothing, and this should be like the triathlon capital of the world.

Our race was in and around the Maschsee, which is the lake in the middle of town.The Maschsee is home to the biggest carp I have ever seen. They might be the descendents of some sort of Nazi mutant fish experiment. I was afraid one of them might latch on and pull me into the depths. Here's a photo of Maschsee carp that's from the internet, which means I am not making it up:

This was a good course for spectators because it was right in the middle of town, and so close to home that I was able to sleep to a respectable hour and pedal over with my backpack. Brian came just as the race started and was my official fan/photographer/moral support.

We had to bike over a stretch of cobblestones, which does not happen in the U.S. It's also not much fun on skinny tires. During the run, there was a water stand where volunteers also passed out Coke, fruit, granola bars, and (you guessed it) bubbly water. I could have stopped for breakfast.

I escaped fish attacks and made it out of the water in a respectable amount of time, pushed it hard on the bike, and ran with all the energy I had left. I finished 4th out of 105 women. I must say I am pretty proud of myself. Maybe next time I will try racing in a scarf.

Eye of the Tiger

About two days before we left my parents' house in Lisle, Illinois, Brian and I woke up and opened the window facing the usually silent street. But there was music coming from one of the neighbor's houses. Loud music. The song was, in fact, Eye of the Tiger, which I hadn't heard in years.

Then about two days after we arrived in Hannover, Brian and I opened our living room window one evening. Amid all of the usual busy street sounds, we heard one car blasting music. The song was Eye of the Tiger.

Then yesterday, I heard it in a bakery and Brian heard it in a pool hall.

This song is following us.

What does it mean? Does it want to be "our song"? (Some couples have a romantic, sentimental song. It would be cool to have an 80's power ballad instead.)  Is it trying to tell us something? Maybe we are supposed to get pumped up to go take on another year in Germany. Maybe we are supposed to get pumped up to lose the extra pounds we gained over the summer. Maybe I am supposed to get pumped up to beat a bunch of wussy Germans at the Hannover triathlon tomorrow. Allegedly the guy who wrote that song went to my high school. Maybe we have a weird Lisle connection.

I'll write tomorrow or Monday to tell you how the triathlon went. It's likely that Eye of the Tiger will still be playing in my head by then, or maybe even at the finish line.