tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25674792010-03-10T03:47:46.174-08:00Martha + CyThe Big Ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05593577468127428377noreply@blogger.comBlogger242125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-75974824387941316652010-01-29T00:45:00.000-08:002010-01-29T00:52:18.482-08:00
I’ve always loved fish & chips, even before I knew chips were French fries. Now and then my parents would take us to a tiny wood-paneled shop in downtown Englewood where you could get a plate of what to me was the holy grail of food and check out the quirky pictures on the wall. I’ll never understand why we didn’t eat there more often and, at the time, I didn’t realize Arthur Treacher’s was a The Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-17665082004855443232010-01-06T11:01:00.001-08:002010-01-06T11:03:07.239-08:00Ben Knight, aka Konrad Werner the Newskraut, was doing a story for Deutsche Welle radio about an increase in new businesses last year in Germany. He interviewed Sabine about Pomeranza.
He's nice like that.
The link goes to the written version. The actual audio is below (press play!):
Thanks Ben!
The Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-2742890979488829942009-12-18T02:11:00.000-08:002009-12-18T02:15:29.864-08:00I was just reading this [German] article by Berlin über journalist Markus Albers about how he was forced to detox from Twitter, e-mail & co. while on vacation. These kinds of articles (and books) are riding a twitter thermal to great heights in Germany and, as Markus’ column and this blog entry show, are creating their own echo chamber. Everyone’s talking about how good it is to get away from The Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-84462344519954225522009-12-09T08:25:00.000-08:002009-12-09T08:26:01.307-08:00Several years ago, when I still worked at home, I got some coffee. As I paused to open the gate at the top of the stairs and head down to the office, I set the coffee on the gray steel support that is the back half-wall of our kitchen. It left a ring.
For several days I walked by that steel support and saw the coffee ring. “Yup, still there,” I thought and went on with my day. I present it as a The Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-91824504452406471632009-09-24T23:42:00.000-07:002009-09-25T00:23:51.445-07:00Last week, the night before flying to my aunt's funeral, I was doing some moonlighting translating an employee magazine for a big pharmaceutical company. One of the articles dealt with a complication of cancer that killed my aunt, and I mentioned how distressing this translation was on Facebook/Twitter.
Susan Ager, a former Detroit Free Press columnist and friend of my aunt and uncle, commented The Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-62913319581253378472009-08-19T02:48:00.000-07:002009-08-19T03:13:50.939-07:00It's been over two weeks, but I've had too much freelance work and Martha's not in school yet -- on Aug. 1, I did my second 10k, the Berlin City Nacht.
I did my first 10k two years ago with Sabine and, to be fair, those were an important two years both experience- and miles-wise. I was more prepared this time and, at 54:32, pared about 5:30 off my previous run. Still, I missed my goal of a The Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-27342134512922245892009-07-28T11:30:00.000-07:002009-07-28T11:42:13.940-07:00Over on The Local's Toytown message board, some dudes said they'd opened a Mexican restaurant -- Maria Bonita -- just around the corner from us. The Local's Brett went and said it was pretty good but he was confused by the bacon in the tacos. I figured we're thousands of miles from Mexico and I'm against dogma, so I was willing to see it as a creative flourish -- though we all agreed bacon is tooThe Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-51561413145507121242009-07-23T05:16:00.001-07:002009-07-23T05:34:31.856-07:00Recently after a long run I found myself sitting at the dining room table with Martha. Having chats is one of the benefits of kids getting older (alongside other advantages such as them being house trained or their being able to fetch a quick beer from the fridge (wine corks remain an as-yet insurmountable challenge, however)).
"So, you run every day now, huh?" she wondered.
"Almost. Is that The Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-66525190432972600142009-07-20T02:53:00.000-07:002009-07-20T03:24:12.934-07:00Old, beat-up jalopies stalled by the side of the road are a rarity in Germany. And when you do see one, it's usually carrying Eastern European license plates -- Poland, Bulgaria, Russia.
I'm not being nationalistic, there's good reason -- mandatory bi-annual safety checks known as Tüv keep run-down vehicles off the road. The checks are performed by an actual engineer with an actual college The Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-33858772721394237082009-07-02T01:38:00.000-07:002009-07-02T01:53:26.291-07:00What I did to my knees in June (day, miles, time):
If you don't feel like doing the math, that's 63 miles. After running three times a week in May, I stepped it up to four times a week in June. I think that's the magic number for improvement. There was just one exception despite a weekend trip to North Carolina and a six-day respite on the Emerald Isle (which is indeed a very green place). TheThe Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-82794388431149504062009-06-29T08:32:00.001-07:002009-07-02T01:55:44.210-07:00Over at this super-secret Internet community I, uh, heard about, there's a meme called WHAT I DID THIS WEEKEND. So, here's what we did this weekend (click on this photo to get to the real picture and then right click to magnify):
The Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-59771169264354467482009-06-25T06:57:00.000-07:002009-06-25T07:07:15.457-07:00A couple weeks ago I was having a discussion with my father about the lack of a future for deadwood newspapers. I was optimistic, he was grumpy. Then I sat down to read my deadwood newspaper and thought: You're doing it wrong. If I was going to advocate the Web as the best source of news, I had to use it that way too.
So I changed my homepage on my browser and started reading the Tagesspiegel The Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-79693041460681373732009-06-11T03:09:00.000-07:002009-06-11T03:41:16.709-07:00
My Uncle David died yesterday. This is one of only two photos I have of him here -- it's from a visit almost a decade ago. Right now I'm in the first American stage of mourning -- travel arrangements.
Since I found out about his grim prognosis early this week, I've been trying to think of concrete times with him but I can't. What I remember is a kind, funny man who always made me feel at home The Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-15722559502763612282009-05-31T23:13:00.001-07:002009-06-01T01:56:15.878-07:00I took the kids to the Children's Culture Carnival on Saturday. The Karneval der Kulturen is an annual parade in Berlin that celebrates all the diversity in the city. Every Brazilian puts on some traditional duds and does some caiporeira, Africans grab any drum they can find, and various women from various nations get half-naked and dance. Since Berlin's a homogenous place, these ex-pats have to The Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-64502989858423103492009-05-28T09:16:00.000-07:002009-05-28T09:37:49.440-07:00Lately we've been having trouble with Martha being slow. Slow at getting dressed. Slow at eating. Slow at walking to the car. It isn't that she's daydreaming, that's a different kind of slow. She's just slow. S-L-O-W. M-O-L-A-S-S-E-S. At first we tried to nudge her into picking up the pace but it didn't seem to have any effect. Then we started doling out time outs here and there. No result.
[AndThe Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-6961392815999163372009-05-20T01:48:00.000-07:002009-05-20T02:01:14.613-07:00Yesterday I was sitting outside at a cafe in the Bötzowviertel when a tatooed skater guy road by and blurted out, "Schwabenficker!", which translates roughly as F**K YOU YUPPIES. In typical passive-aggressive fashion, he did this as he was in full motion and without actually looking at any of us.
I retorted with a, "You go, Green Day!" but I'm not sure he heard me let alone understood the The Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-88300933398440934082009-05-19T01:31:00.001-07:002009-05-19T01:57:25.117-07:00Never again will I play down the level of bureaucracy in Germany. It's. Insane.
Our nursery is essentially a cooperative nursery where parents cook, keep the rooms in shape and run the place. I've volunteered for the running the place bit and I'm run down. We're a club, which in Germany has a special legal meaning. This makes some sense because it allows clubs to act a bit like corporations -- The Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-63309491811321576492009-05-15T00:39:00.001-07:002009-05-15T01:04:31.940-07:00Monday morning.
Martha: Cy!
Cy: What's wrong Martha?
Martha: I can't get dressed!
Cy: Why not?
Martha: Someone keeps asking me all kinds of questions.
Cy: Really? Who?
Later that day:
Cy: Dad, I know where yawns come from. All the bacteria in your mouth get tired from working and they yawn and then push all the yawns out your mouth at once.
The Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-42740024228020153702009-05-14T11:41:00.000-07:002009-05-15T01:03:50.267-07:00
As an exchange student 20-some-odd years ago, I was horrified to discover Germans living up to their stereotype as sausage eaters. Every festival, party and gathering was accompanied by at least a small barbecue with several examples of seasoned pork parts stuffed into (artificial and real) intestines. Once over my shock, it became a guilty pleasure.
Early in our relationship and decades laterThe Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-54473994951597276472009-03-22T14:34:00.000-07:002009-03-23T16:10:22.599-07:00Sure there's a recession. Sure we're all worried. But I'm still very much psyched that my wife and her friend decided to take a risk and try something all of their own doing. The only thing I contributed to this venture was the occasional errand and plenty of childcare (but since they are my own children it's hard to call it "contributing", especially since I'm enjoying the extra time with them).The Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-91240700841585291322009-03-09T14:52:00.000-07:002009-03-09T14:55:49.903-07:00The Bulkeley Economic Stimulus Plan:
Sabine and Janet's Pomeranza Design Ranch, near Helmholtzplatz, opens March 21. Cool old stuff they still make and cool new stuff plus coffee and cake (this is Germany, after all). They're still hustling to get it done.
The Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-62779717165704390712009-02-26T03:03:00.000-08:002009-02-26T03:22:32.944-08:00Knowing your way through a different culture has the same perils of using a second language. Much in the way I ordered three erections (Latten) daily for six months, I recently got into a not-so-nice pissing match with the German tax people. As I now know, I was using the wrong part of German culture.
It goes like this: one day the phone rings and it's a woman saying she's auditing my The Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-52041738222707006032009-02-08T03:02:00.000-08:002009-02-08T03:18:19.312-08:00
I finally put up some Christmas pictures.
Also: Finding a decent bike shop is always a problem for me. They always seem to have their agenda, and I always know exactly what I want and it's hard to find a middle ground. For awhile, I found a place that I could muddle through, though the dudes were jerks and unfriendly but would eventually get me -- or do -- what I wanted (you know, as the payingThe Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-56480557797536274022009-01-17T03:00:00.000-08:002009-01-17T03:13:24.088-08:00This morning in bed I was thinking about Manja and Steve's holiday visit. It was great seeing them but what was especially cool was their kids -- Lukas and Lieselotte. Although that saying about not liking anyone's kids but your own is essentially true, I'd amend it to say I don't like anyone's kids but mine and those of my friends.
After going to see street performers this summer, Martha and CyThe Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2567479.post-47847454503657380962009-01-14T00:57:00.000-08:002009-01-14T09:02:24.342-08:00Martha's been taking dance class for two years but this fall decided she wanted to take ballet with all her friends from daycare, not the interpretive dance class we chose. Fair enough, we said. Go ahead.
Shortly after (coincidentally on election night and at an Obama party), a friend introduced me to Martha's new ballet teacher -- a six foot tall, 30ish woman from the (American) South. She wasThe Bulkeleyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15729604615744968970noreply@blogger.com0