Happy Blue Moon, Tribe of Mine..!

I have so much to cover. Took way too many walks in the sunshine yesterday, so my mind is a bit quieter- but I can barely stand.

But before I get to yesterday's adventures, I have to mention the blue moon. I did not know this, but the blue moon is an additional full moon that appears in a subdivision of a year: either the third of four full moon in a season, or a second full moon in a month of the common calendar. My Teutons are wondering what all the fuss is about: "it's not blue and it's not that rare..!"

Sigh. That's like saying who cares if you get an extra weekend every once in a while. A full moon is a girl's delight. More is better. 

It was a killer combination with the sunshine because the sun made me run around up and down for hours, and then the moon drew me out of bed in the middle of night to gaze upon it. 

I'm spent. Let's see if I can get through today- we have more visitors-argh...(thank god they are lazy...)

For now my beautiful moon girls, here is a little Joycean ode to the moon (and you- especially the last line ..now I have to look up the word propiniquity.) 
more soon. xx

“Her antiquity in preceding and surviving succeeding tellurian generations: her nocturnal predominance: her satellitic dependence: her luminary reflection: her constancy under all her phases, rising and setting by her appointed times, waxing and waning: the forced invariability of her aspect: her indeterminate response to inaffirmative interrogation: her potency over effluent and refluent waters: her power to enamour, to mortify, to invest with beauty, to render insane, to incite to and aid delinquency: the tranquil inscrutability of her visage: the terribility of her isolated dominant resplendent propinquity: her omens of tempest and of calm: the stimulation of her light, her motion and her presence: the admonition of her craters, her arid seas, her silence: her splendour, when visible: her attraction, when invisible.” 
― James Joyce, Ulysses

Encryption

This post is solely to encrypt the blog again. Do NOT worry. Nothing has changed. You may see a post like this again. Should you see one, remain calm and DO NOT contact the blog owner with complaints. A post like this will be posted every 10-15 posts. REMAIN CALM. NOTHING HAS CHANGED. Thank you for your attention.

Ellie away's tech department

Few Photos

My apologies for the two entry day, but it is so gorgeous out; I tried (and might have failed) to capture what it looks like.

Must keep walking now-I cannot stay away. As the renowned German mountain climber, Luis Trenker said:

Der Berg ruft: Ich muss in den Berg.

Today's lunch spot

Almost Cheezy, (the beam of light!) but I was feeling it

Very hard to photograph water..it is so much prettier than this

Feel kind of bad about recovering the bench in the living room in these girls...

Keep on Walking

I have been having lots of dreams about lions lately-none of them good. What kind of person wants to kill and decapitate a beautiful male lion with a black mane? The thing I remember most about sitting near lions was first, how lazy they are when they are not hunting: they really do nothing but sit around looking good. And second, when they occasionally look at you with those yellow eyes, they do not see you. You are invisible- and it's terrifying.
But oh how we love them. We love them because they are beautiful and powerful and heartless. Like a lot of people, I guess. Anyway, maybe this will galvanize the conservation efforts-but I'm sad to say I doubt it.

Yesterday the weather was bad: I was feeling blue and in the mood for a good brood. (this more than anything makes you a local: no one does brooding like an Austrian).
I decided to go it alone: walk up steep and nasty but just for 40 minutes; run down for 1/2 hour down the other side, then run/walk flat for another 40 minutes or so to lunch. A little trip towards food. And I would be alone, so I could go slowly and brood in peace. Just munch on my gummi bears thinking morose thoughts at will.

Later at lunch, I actually said to  Thomas-von-Lalanne that perhaps I should walk back up the 30 minutes home after we ate. He looked at me like I was crazy. "You have run for almost two hours already." Yes, I said, but so much was down hill....? and a lot was walking..?
I'm not kidding..I sounded like Margaret-who is an actual fit person. (Compared to her, I am a Saudi Arabian 12 year old). But after a few weeks in Lech, distance changes. It's like some sort of time space continuum. Lech distance is different from other distance.
Point is: keep walking people. There is no place you can't get to with a pocket full of gummi bears and an injustice to ruminate against. Trust me.

On my way, I saw a friend of the Schneider's who is an avalanche dynamiter. He lives in the best house in town with a woman who is a cross country skiing guide and whom I adore.
He and I have always spoken German-but he is very shy and I worry my vocabulary will soon run out. I had one night last summer where the German Gods blessed me and I was killing it. Just one avalanche joke after another coming out of my mouth. The trouble is I cannot possibly keep that level up, and yesterday he was looking at me expectantly, cheerfully even, like I was going to say something hilarious. But I was sweaty and tired and I had sticky hands from the gummi bears and I was sort of flailing.
So I declare in a weird voice , as I am peering into his car, that we really need to get together and have a drink because his wife and children are in South America for 5 weeks.
I mean...sad that Uli is away..so sad. We need to drink now. But maybe just apple juice. But definitely at your place because your house is so great.. I mean you know what I mean..let's go to your place. 
Good lord.
I looked horrible, so there is little chance he will take me up on the offer. But my reputation as that loon from California is growing. 

In case any of you are worried that I am losing weight, below is a photograph of last night's dessert. Here's the rub: it was for one person.  That's right.

 Salburger Nockerl is a famous Austrian dish -made mostly of egg whites and sugar I think.
Thomas dryly asked what the waiters do with the bodies that have exploded. I told him I was pretty sure I saw a memorial somewhere dedicated to those who died while eating it.

More visitors come today; K's gay BFF is throwing her a party on the 6th where he will cook a full meal as a gift to her. This is the same man who threw the famous margarita party with me years ago; (see earlier blogs), the same party where I started eating the plants on the table.
Anyway I wrote to him offering my services as sous chef. Funny, he has not written me back..

"Lost to Egg Whites, but forever in our hearts..."

Resistance Is Futile

Cocktail Hour at 5,709 feet

I have no news: the weather has turned cooler and the guests have left. They committed two acts of insubordination while here: they bought us dinner (a no no-we are the locals) and-get this: they hiked on their own the next day. It took me a while to understand what they were saying, even though they are English speakers. Thomas translated: THEY WANT TO HIKE WITHOUT US. 
At first I thought they meant to jettison Thomas -and I made all sorts of agreeing noises about how I felt their pain, and this time, I would protect them: we would go slowly. But actually, after all this talk about how Thomas was the problem hiker, I had the distinct impression that some people don't like hiking with me. Apparently I have a reputation (within my own family at least) for being a bit crabby when the going gets tough. Whatever. 

We have discovered a new massage technique called Myo-facial release: "is a soft tissue therapy for the treatment of skeletal muscle immobility and pain. This alternative medicine therapy aims to relax contracted muscles, improve blood and lymphatic circulation, and stimulate the stretch reflex in muscles." We go every other evening. 

Basically a woman in white comes and presses her strong mountain girl fingers into small areas of your body that are very, very tight. It is extremely uncomfortable. Your muscles are tight from a fundamental imbalance-some are always weaker from all this sitting (what sitting I'd like to know?) and perhaps they are trying to protect something. So this lady comes -Frau Mengele (kidding..not really) comes in and with a HUGE smile and periodic laughter like a crazy person at how tight you are. The part she loves most is how if she just keeps pressing, the muscles eventually give in and relax. It is quite amazing. You feel as if she has stopped pressing. When I asked her if she had, she replied cheerfully: "NEIN! Ich bin nicht so nett" I am not that nice!!!
Anyway, since this blog aims to share teaching moments...it occurred to me on that bed that that is the story of summer in Lech. Do not resist. Do not resist the weather, or the walk, or the offer of food or wine, or the pain of the ice bath or massage. Lech knows best-if you fight it, it will only take longer. Meanwhile, try not to think of your friends in Portofino lounging around getting tan and fat and falling back in love with life. 

Below some photos

Black Power Salute protesting another walk. I did not succeed.

                                                                                                                 Murmel Tier (local animal)

 
Slack lining after a schnapps (that was forced on us; see lesson above vis a vis resistance);

Runner's High and Secret Recipes

Some friends have come from Zurich-hard working types who go to the gym and eat their vegetables.  They think a hike sounds fun. "It's so beautiful here!!"  "We are BIG hikers!"

Inevitably they remember they are dealing with Thomas, and they start to backtrack. "I was just in the hospital"; or full panicked retreat: "I'm not going anywhere with your husband."
Unfortunately I am no good cop to Thomas' bad: I am the prisoner who has been gnawing on her chicken bone in the gulag for years, waiting for company; like a lonely spider in her web.

Get your big boy pants on honey:  I am not doing this alone.

We bark orders immediately after the dessert is served: coffee in the morning at ten sharp at the Arlberg; water is unnecessary, we will be back quickly; wear flip flops for all we care; lunch is when we say it is; go home now and sleep.

We are so happy you came.....!!!!!!!

In fairness, we do provide gummi bears. A word to the wise for all of you: eat the damn gummi bears. Do not tell me you don't eat candy, or you prefer salty things. Yes, yes we all enjoy potato chips. We are not children.
But when one is faced with the hell that is a long up hill walk in altitude, the only hope is sugar. At the lowest point (not altitude wise, but emotionally) on the half marathon, Thomas rode his bicycle in a hail storm high in the hills to hand me a coke. I am not making this up. One half a coke was all it took for me to take off -yodeling to the finish line.
Anyway, enough about nutrition...

We have F with us-he loathes hikes, but like all children is better at it than we are. He takes off on his spindly legs, gummi bears in pocket-I stay for exactly five minutes of chit chat before I remember that I want this over with-I rush after F, and T stays back for a while with these people who are wondering what exactly is the matter. Is there a bear chasing us? what is the hurry? Also, did you mention a shorter version? because I was recently hospitalized?...

Luckily for them we had promised F a short outing and it was...the weather changed and went from hot and sunny to absolutely freezing. Now T and F are indoors playing tennis, and I am writing to you my pretty bloggers. I really do have the most beautiful readership..not to brag.

Where was I? I have incredible news. No really. K makes an iced coffee dessert that is soooo good. I have tried for years to get the recipe. I told Luis he would get 50 euros if he could steal it. Ida snuck Katia's cook book out for me. Then last night I just said: Katia. I need this.
I have three months to live.
And I have it!!! Lock up your husbands ladies...they will be coming home with me after a taste of this. Ok I'll give you a teaser: it involves ice cream, liquid cream and espresso. Also one slightly poisonous mushroom from south of the alps. But I've said too much....

I had a genuine runner's high-Alpine version yesterday. These are rare for me because I am just not that hot of a runner; plus I'm lazy. Anyway It occurred to me that I  never, ever have moments of euphoria on a run at home. Or anywhere else for that matter; it is a miracle that only happens here.

The sun was out, I was tearing down a slight hill listening to a song from college days, a song that could make anyone run faster (the song Laid by James). I was so happy and energetic, that I began to practice my hurdles-imaginary ones, (which I believe are the best kind-my form is perfect on those.)

So picture this crazy woman leaping and whooping alone down the dirt road, past her cows (Hello Ladies!!!) past the church steeple far below,  through the forest, over the wooden bridge over the water fall, away from anything that hurts, towards everything that comforts-towards the end of the run, and the beginning of lunch. Towards a shower and a book and cream in her coffee. Towards people who love her, warts and all.
xx

Me and my girls. Filter is used to express the hell that walking can be. 

Leching Along...

"I know you're tired, but come. This is the way. " Rumi



How much do we love Rumi? He not only knew everything a person can know about love, but it seems he also went hiking with his wife in the alps.
Yesterday was very hot, and weirdly humid for Lech. Somehow a hike that we consider easy, i.e. one hour up something steep-but still not much more than an hour up-somehow that turned hellish. I am not sure if it was the weather or the run I had done the day before, but I was not happy.
I grumpily told Thomas that in all our years together we had never, not once stayed in bed all day watching movies. This I find very funny now-that this statistic popped into my head and ate at my soul (not once!). But at the time I was very serious-I mean what is this? a marriage or a training camp?
He was very nice, and pretended to also be tired, but I am not buying it. Here is a picture he took of me at the top-when he asked me to look cheerful. ha!

I am worried about boring everyone with Lech stories, because they are so similar every year. We were out the other night with the Wehlens (they popped in for two nights which was nice) and the Schneiders and a Greek friend (and yes it was teensy awkward the whole German with Greek thing..but only at first) who is an expert-Harvard educated- Landscaper. I am still not sure what he is working on here, but something about joining gardens from one hotel to the other...
Anyway I sat next to G, and after a jolly dinner he decided that we four needed absolutely, positively to fly for one day to Monaco to visit a friend who is turning 50 because said friend didn't want to do anything special for his birthday, and this could not stand. Specialness had to be forced upon him. I had eaten a lot of hirsh sausages (god help me I hope it is not deer, but let's just call it elk..) and this seemed so obviously the right thing to do: we must get up at 4 in the morning and fly to see a person who specifically said he didn't really need to see us. Yes!!!
Luckily we sobered up the next day and realized that perhaps a person could survive his birthday without kissing the Schneiders or the Wehlens. Although why anyone would want that is beyond me...

In our group drop box I saw a website featuring nerdy pick up lines; found most likely by a fourteen year old on his way to Exeter. Preparation in love, as in life, is always key.

"You must be the square root of minus one, because you can't be real.." or, if that doesn't work:
Are you the square root of two? because you make me feel irrational."

Ok it's not Rumi, but still it might work at PEA.

Us in happier times..behind us the Omeshorn. We have hiked to the top of that too. 

Big Love from High in the Mountains

Our view as we drive into town

Greetings Earthlings:

We are tucked in to the alps again- mooching off the Schneiders and leaping around with heart rate monitors on, (much like Heidi did I'm sure). The weather is incredibly beautiful-hot with hopes of evening thunder.

Yesterday I was having a bad day; but then a brilliant friend sent me this, and it cheered me greatly. 

It seems that little Albert E. had a pretty good head on his shoulders.  

Enjoy. 

https://wearelightbeings.wordpress.com/2015/04/15/a-letter-from-albert-einstein-to-his-daughter-about-the-universal-force-which-is-love/

Encryption

This post is solely to encrypt the blog again. Do NOT worry. Nothing has changed. You may see a post like this again. Should you see one, remain calm and DO NOT contact the blog owner with complaints. A post like this will be posted every 10-15 posts. REMAIN CALM. NOTHING HAS CHANGED. Thank you for your attention.

Ellie away's tech department 

Keep dreaming bloggers...!

Below is from blogger extraordinaire- one Amy R. from San Francisco, Ca. She is having trouble with her life partner over this dreaming business (as are so many of us- men can be such a tiresome sex). And below that are photos of my first hurdle training sessions. We are starting small, i.e., with a can of tomato sauce. But who knows where this will lead? 

Take THAT Chris N.! 

Solider on Amy...Solider on. 

"What is the word in German for fantasy Scrooge. CDN is quibbling with the specifics of my fantasy. He thinks it is important to admit that it could only be the Summer Olympics, because there is no Winter Olympic sport I could do. This puts aside the obvious which is (a) it is a fantasy, (b) it is MY fantasy, (c) there is no likely Summer Olympic sport I could contend in either, and (d) he has never seen me luge. Gotta keep the magic alive somehow. I vote to put him on the bus with the Japanese tourists. Let Thomas save him. I will be honoring my country with my incredible achievement. "

Quick photos

We are bad about taking photos - but here are a few from our early morning swim. The water is very chilly, but a swim is mandatory for anyone that wants a beach coffee afterwards. Rules are rules. 

Just Swing

"The hurdler is a sprinter who possesses a natural sense of rhythm and a no-fear attitude. This is particularly true of the high hurdles, where no compensation can be made for technique and rhythm. The long hurdler, on the other hand, has to cope with hurdling under extreme fatigue. 

All hurdle races require an athlete who isn't satisfied with simply running."

How to Run Hurdles

I am still waiting to hear everyone's fantasies. One blogger admitted via email to Olympic dreams complete with (I do so appreciate this last part) mouthing the words correctly to the Star Spangled banner on the podium. F is toying with the idea of borrowing my high diving dream; T is busy working on a hurdles training program, complete with small ones set up in front of the nearest bank.

My point is: dream often, but dream big. If you come to me with a small dream, I will squash it. You'll thank me later. (Japanese indeed.)

Ok almost closing shop here. We have jogged many miles and played many hours of tennis and golf; and yet we are no closer to smug satisfaction. But as I always say-the way to play life is often found in how to hit a ball. Today at tennis when I started over thinking-trying to stop the right heel from coming so high, trying to see the future instead of keeping the head down, trying to fake it.....my 22 year old teacher stopped and said:

Ellie.
Swing.
Just swing.

And I so did.

Photos soon; Munich on Sunday; Lech on Monday afternoon; dinner with K and G on Monday night; cool mountain nights... one after the other.

 xxx

98.6

I am hoping the above photo conveys a sense of heat; it was taken post chicken curry (with extra hot sauce) in a picturesque town 30 minutes from our country club oasis.. As you likely know, when the outside temperature gets above body temp... it's el bummer. 

We can never remember the name of this town, we usually just call it "that hot place". And I don't know why we pay a visit every year- nothing is ever open: neither church nor museum. 
We just go for lunch. And get a load of the menu on offer:

It was either a candid camera episode or my mother in law had recently bought the place. Who in God's name has a hankering for rabbit stew when it is100 degrees? And what is Cockrel?
Oh well, when in Rome...

I went for the chicken curry and F manned up and ordered wild boar -to the delight of the owner (little known fact: the wild boar is featured on the Brigham family crest). 

Thomas was happy because the British open was on above my head; so I went outside to try to take selfies as I sweltered - (Swelfies: Trademark! )

So since le blog is now private, I feel I can post all sorts of Wehlen secrets. I asked the team, as we sipped coffee after our early ocean swim, to admit their fantasies of glory: the thing they fantasize about doing to the roar of the crowd. I went first:

I would like to be able to do various dives off of high dives - at a basic swim party for example, just bust out with a backward jack knife. Or- I see myself breaking up a bank robbery by chasing after the criminal and catching him.

Maybe shooting him in the leg.

T went next, and his fantasy will of course surprise no one. He dreams of  being able to speak perfect Japanese to a surprised and delighted bus of Japanese. 

Now part of the game includes the sacred trust of not making fun.. But I had to ask: 
You fantasize about impressing Japanese tourists? 

Why? Leaping over barriers ( in my fantasy there are hurdles involved) is better?

Yes. The bank robbers might be handsome and admire my feistiness. Or the police or the bystanders. but a bus full of Japanese? Who cares if they like you? 

F's was equally mundane: an astronaut. whatever. I am not sure they get the game...do Germans not fantasize? 
The good news is once I told them I needed to be able to leap hurdles (like at a track meet), we got right to work. Below some photos of my initial attempts. In my mind, I looked like Jackie Joyner Kersee...alas...

But I implore you to write in and admit all: saving Angelina Jolie from a crocodile attack? curing cancer and then accepting the nobel prize? playing pool against a bully and winning? skiing out of an avalanche? 
come on...let it out. You'll feel better- no, actually we will because we will all be laughing. 
And you should feel good about that. 

xx 

( Middle Aged crime stopper)

See you in Kusadasi!

The Wehlies left us today with these parting words. (how often does one get to say "see you in Kusadasi? I mean how chic).  

It's lonely when they leave. Oh sure, the air conditioning is on, and now we can sleep without sweating through our pyjamas-but we never sit down and drink hot coffee with cake. And cake does give one's day a little direction.

 Freedom is not all it is cracked up to be -that's all I'm sayin.





Of course I am sure you are all excited by this Pluto business. Bloggies know the Wehlen position on Pluto: namely, it should be a planet. (To quote Frederick: it's spherical in shape; and just because it doesn't have an elliptical orbit- it's clearly a regular one. )

But Pluto is the Al Pacino of our solar system: small dark and sexy.

And such a romantic: it has a huge heart on it!  I'm swooning. 

By the way-have you ever seen people you wanted to be friends with more than the above? Oh sure they would run the other direction when I came in for a hug. Generally speaking astro physicists with space stations on their heads don't go for me- I own Jimmy Choos and have been offered cocaine at a party-But these people are my tribe. Yes, they would have to do the physics homework for both of us, and this could get annoying: but I grow on people. 

So kiss your favorite nerd today bloggers;

they bring us wisdom from afar.

PS: A HUGE happy birthday to the best Aunt EVER and most loyal, rabid bloggie. Miss you love you call you later...vive la France Miss Bastille day
xxx

Ave Imperator, Morituri te Salutant.....

"Hail Emperor, those about to die salute you...."

Thomas quoted Roman gladiators as he left for golf with his parents this morning. Indeed, a tee off time of 11:56 in the Algarve in July brings to mind many of the less appealing moments in the Colosseum.
I hate to whine, but I have a date to play tennis with a 14 year old and a 22 year old from 11-12:30. So we all have our crosses to bear.

Anyway we have lost Luis, which is very sad. He is such a chum. He and I watched Wimbledon together on my bed because T and F felt we were too "emotional" about Federer and left us. L and I believe we are two of the greatest untapped sources of tennis coaching the world has ever seen. I am not joking- the pearls of wisdom that come out of our mouths need to be recorded for posterity. When Federer won the second set we got a tin of mini Swiss chocolates and passed it back and forth without any bickering about who would be stuck with the white chocolate. You just can't put a price on that kind of bonhomie.

In other sports news, I had a brief moment where I thought I could explain to the aliens what in the name of hell we were doing. Why mankind rushes from point A to point B only to rush right back again; often with a ball under their arm. The most obvious answer is that it takes us out of our heads- into blissful states of not thinking. It is the oasis in the hell-scape that can be our own minds. Frankly, I am of the opinion that Juliet would have gotten over Romeo if she had thought to pick up a racket. No man is worth remembering if you can hit an inside out forehand.

But I think we run (when a car would be so much easier), for the same reason we eat spicy food. Controlled pain with a beginning and end is enormous comfort when we fear random pain so much. It's like pretend pain: run in the heat, but in 40 minutes it will be over, and if you run very, very hard you might actually feel euphoric.
Yesterday I did not want to exercise. I had convinced myself that I was lacking some vital nutrient: iron or magnesium or some as yet undiscovered chemical compound. There was no way I was going out there. But then I remembered how nice it feels afterwards; how I might run to the beach and then treat myself to a swim in the wonderfully icy water; how I had been craving a little time alone. So I said: ok. first, have some sugar. then have some water, then-and this is the most important ingredient: be very, very nice to yourself as you flail around in the heat.

A little sugar. A little water. A little kindness. 

Might be my new religion.
(With Toots and the Maytals as the choir.)

....everybody just calm down calm down calm down, calm down; have your pomp and pride
everybody trying crying dying to see the light.

Heat and Ant cake

I am writing to you all from our attic room without air conditioning (Protestants are against it-almost as much as they are against ice cubes) or insulation, (which Portuguese are against), during a heatwave. We are somewhat thrown by the heat because it interferes with our non stop ball chasing- little white ones, and big white ones and little yellow ones and large beach ones. If an alien were to come down to observe our culture he would ask "what's with all the balls?"
I have no good answer.
The tennis though, has been fun: Thomas and I started out with one man who is close to his hip replacement surgery, and this was perfect. The court is an absolute frying pan; and really I would prefer to be fitter than the teacher. But after one morning trying to keep us (Thomas) entertained, he was replaced by my worst nightmare: a fit 45 year old handsome type who seems to think we need to "go for it". "Go for it go for it go for it!!! I need you to GO!"
The good news is I have become a whiz at the passing shot, because passing him means I get to take a break. I am really very hot.

Heat is one of those things that separates the weak from the strong-the clear headed from the confused; it separates those who leaped off the titanic and those who ordered another round. And in this house it is clear that the only real men are C and E. Honestly- they head out at high noon to start golf, because any earlier would mean a rushed breakfast. When they return, after having skipped lunch, they have a hot tea, followed by the traditional German 5 o'clock cake break. This I have always felt is pure genius. Cake and hot coffee at 5pm. A little heat wave does not stop them-nor it seems does an ant infestation. The cake pan was crawling with them, and Thomas pointed this out as one of the many reasons he did not care for cake.
Sigh. Such a disappointment that child. All this blather about cholesterol and insects and heat. They really do not know what to do with him.

When we think no one is home we engage in all sorts of subversive activities: ice cubed filled drinks, and brief interludes of air conditioning. I even invented a new past time I coined: "air conditioning tourism" where we take the children for a drive in the middle of the day, and climate control our way to happiness.

Little Luis S has been a joy: he does all the sports we ask, and then he comes and does knee bends on his own. He has only gotten heat stroke once (one little headache! don't judge) which for a person traveling with us in the summer is a good statistic; also he is an utterly reliable cake eater. Solid performance in any temperature.

Today we will take a break from playing or watching any sport (To my horror, Thomas has been dabbling in cricket watching again) to visit the town of Tavira-castles and beach, and maybe if we are very lucky, a few ice cubes in our cokes.


PS My tech department has taken it upon himself to add a "Puppy of the Day" section to the blog. Enjoy. xx

Announcement Announcement Announcement

User name is: User and code is ellieaway (according to my 5 foot four inch tech dept.)

Testy

Testing

Technical difficulties

I have the entire team on the privacy thing; but it's slow because some are playing golf and the rest are windsurfing. I am about to go to a class called the Insanity workout- made a lot of people actually ill (not kidding) who have done it too many days in a row.. The recommended program is 60 days I think, and afterwards you see pleasing visions, or fit into your skinny jeans; I can't remember which. The Portuguese version should be interesting..,.

Boys are non stop: tennis, golf, mini golf, swimming, windsurfing and the seven minute workout app. (Rest includes intensive Wimbledin viewing.) Their biceps are still tiny, but L looks like a small Russuan supermodel: thin and intense. 

They were comparing boarding school mottos today at lunch: Exeter has three including (in Latin) : the end depends on the beginning (boring ?) or Non Sibi (not for one's self) and one I can't recall. 

 Haileybury has the best ever: 

Fear God. 

Honor the King. 

Basta

Xx

M

Wehlen summer camp

Arrived in good order; F and L playing all the preppy sports: tennis, golf, sailing, with home made chocolate cake in between. 

I have decided to sprint around more in the heat, pretend I'm an athlete like last summer while Thomas is hiding the soy milk from his mother like a drinker hides his gin (Cows milk after all is the nectar all humans need; Cholesterol comes from ice cream.) 

I think I will finally put a password on this thing. But it will mean an extra step to log in which I fear might make even you- my dedicated family bloggies  find something better to read. Also I would lose Latvia. Latvia? If you are listening just email me at ebwehlen@gmail.com and all passwords will be yours. 

Stay tuned. Tech department is in the pool.