Congratulations to Abram

Hey, we just wanted to tell Abram congratulations on passing the bar. Not that we had any doubts, but it's nice to be able to make it official. Now since you're an official full fledged practicing lawyer, we all expect some nice Christmas presents ;)

No, seriously, I don't know if Abram even reads this blog. I know Michelle and Holly do and that's my audience, so I guess more than anything I'm just letting them know.

Shooting Myself in the Foot

Andrew and I joined a gym here a little while ago. We were pretty excited about the fact that they give you towels when you come in, which just goes to show how ghetto we are at heart. Another one of the gym's perks is a free personal training session when you join. You can do the training session on the weights, in the pool, on the Pilates machines (which look like fancy torture devices), or however else you can think of. Since I am no good at swimming, I decided to do my session in the pool.

My thinking went something like, "If I do my training session in the pool maybe I will get some good pointers on how to swim better. Maybe I'll learn how to actually put my face in the water when I freestyle." My brain should have been saying something more along the lines of, "If I do my training session in the pool I will have to wear a bathing suit in front of the whole gym (the pool area is lined by glass walls that face the cafe and entrance area) and my trainer will probably get more than frustrated at having to teach me like a little kid to hold my face under water for more than 2 seconds at a time."

Since my brain doesn't think like it should, I went ahead and scheduled my session with Alex. Since Alex speaks Spanish and French and very little English, I offered to do the session in French. I was actually surprised at how much I understood him, but quite embarrassed at how little I could respond to him. Being able to understand him would have been very encouraging if it weren't for the fact that the next two weeks I kept thinking French whenever I was trying to think Spanish.

At least Alex was patient with me while I tried to swim without hyperventilating. Oh, and did I mention the horrible acne and pink eye I had that day? I still cringe at the thought that I let someone see me that way. For the last 10 minutes of the session the trainers have you lay down and relax while they stretch you out and give you a massage. That would have been nice but it is pretty awkward to have someone push on your leg to stretch your hamstring while you're in your bathing suit in front of strangers. For all the new things I learned and the progress I made with Alex, though, I am now even more aware of what a poor swimmer I am and even more embarrassed to go back and practice. And I still get French in my head.

Why I was never good at playground games...

Michelle "tagged" me a while ago and I have never fulfilled my duties as "it", but I am prepared to do so now.

Who tagged you?
My sister-in-law

What is her name?
Michelle Michi Okabe Petersen (but we just call her Michelle or Meech)

How long have you been together?
Well, Michelle and I were in Young Women together in Concord, CA a long long time ago. I borrowed her black velvet dress for my eight grade graduation dance but then she moved away and we lost touch. Until Lauritz brought her back into my life, for which I am grateful. But maybe that question is supposed to refer to my spouse, Andrew, who I have known for about 8 1/2 years. I haven't lost touch with him yet.

How long did you date?
Michelle and I never really dated, but Andrew and I did. It's not really clear when our first date was but we first kissed in December and then were married the following November, almost a year.

How old is he?
Not sure Michi wants me to tell, but Andrew is 28.

Who eats more?
I never see Michelle eat, which is too bad because I usually make a pig of myself at her house. Good stuff there. I usually eat small bits throughout the day while Andrew forgets to eat and then is able to put down just about anything in any amount that he wants. Not sure who comes out ahead in the end.

Who said I love you first?
I think I told Michelle I loved her first. I have this fear of those I love not knowing that I love them because my actions certainly don't show it. So I blurt it out and make people feel uncomfortable. However Andrew says he was the first to mention the "l" word on our kind-of first date, but he qualified it by mentioning the "platonic" word as well.

Who is taller?
Than Michelle? I think the question is who isn't. But Andrew is taller than me.

Who sings better?
I can't remember Michelle's singing voice but if she has any of her father's genes she definitely sings better than me. Andrew does as well.

Who is smarter?
Michelle is definitely smarter than me and so is Andrew. At least he likes to use bigger words and have political discussions that make him look quite intelligent. He's got me fooled into thinking he's smarter.

Whose temper is worse?
I don't think I've ever seen Michelle mad. Frustrated, yes, but even then she is fun to be around. I frighten Andrew with my temper sometimes, but I find a secret pleasure in getting really upset every once in a while. Very cathartic.

Who does the laundry?
Me, but I just do Andrew and my laundry, not Michelle's.

Who does the dishes?
Me, but I do have to fight Andrew off of them sometimes, remember my temper. He's a good man that one.

Who sleeps on the right side of the bed?
If you're facing the bed, Andrew does. If not, I do. I have to make sure he has the side that doesn't get seen when people walk in the room. His bed stand isn't the neatest thing.

Who pays the bills?
Andrew, he's the only one making money and the only one who can keep it straight between all the countries our accounts are in.

Who mows the lawn?
Usually Dad, since that's the last place we lived that had a lawn. It would be nice to see some grass here every once in a while.

Who cooks dinner?
I wish Michelle cooked for us. Unfortunately Andrew has to put up with my cooking except for when he does his brilliant curries or yummy fajitas.

Who drives when you are together?
We walk and walk and walk and walk. We're like the pioneer children with less singing as we walk.

Who is more stubborn?
I think Michelle has to be pretty stubborn to be able to stand up to Lauritz. I'm probably more stubborn about stupid things, and now that I think about it probably on everything. Andrew is a much better person than me. Much.

Who is the first to admit when they are wrong?
I can't think of a time Michelle has ever been wrong. Andrew is usually always right so he doesn't need to admit anything. I'm usually wrong but too proud to admit it.

Whose parents do you see the most?
If we're talking quantity of parents, Andrew's since he has two to my one. But quantity of time it just depends on whose parents we are living with while we try to figure out where we'll be living next.

Who kissed who first?
I think I kissed Michelle first but it was just on the cheek. I think it took her a little while to get used to the kisses we spread in our family. But Andrew kissed me first. He did ask if it would ruin our friendship if he kissed me. When I said I didn't know he just dove right in. The friendship was ruined but we prefer what came out of it.

Who asked who out?
Andrew asked me if I wanted to hang out but I don't think he intended it as a date.

Who proposed?
No one really. Andrew asked if I was ready to tell people we were engaged and again I said I didn't know (we had broken up the week before). Then we went and bought a ring. For something I was never really sure of it's turned out really well.

Who is more sensitive?
To the other person? Or who gets hurt most? I'd say Andrew is more sensitive to me and I get more offended because I don't want him to think he's too perfect. he makes me look like a bad person, which I know but I'd rather not admit it.

Who has more friends?
I think Andrew has more friends in general but I have more close friends.

Who has more siblings?
Definitely Andrew.

Who wears the pants in the family?
Andrew does despite the fact that I keep trying to put them on. In the end I know they work better on him, though.

And now I pass the tag on to Holly who has a blog but doesn't post anything. Here's something you can post, Holly. Or actually, it might be funny to hear Andrew's answers so I'll tag you both and whoever posts first is a better player than I was.

Conference Weekend

This tells you how behind I am in writing. I'm bring it all back to the first weekend in October. Conference weekend wasn't too exciting here. We decided to honor General Conference by staying in our pajamas all morning and eating hootenannies on Sunday morning (any Petersen's out there know the correct spelling of that word? Anyone else out there even know what I'm talking about?) Staying in our pj's all morning was pretty easy since I believe we woke up around noon. I think there had been some noisy people outside our window late the night before, or we were just that lazy.

Conference didn't start until 6pm here which meant it ended at midnight. On Sunday night we decided to go for a walk between the sessions. As soon as we closed the front door Andrew turned to me with a very panicked look on his face and asked if I'd left the keys in the other side of the door. This is something he lives in fear of daily. If you leave keys in the door on the inside of the apartment then you can't use your keys on the outside of the door to get in, and you have to turn the key to open the door. I had noticed keys in the door as we were walking out but I figured that Andrew would grab them and carry them with us on the walk. I was wrong.

Our quick little walk turned into a four hour quest to get back into our apartment which was not locked but just inaccessible. After staring at the door, kicking the door, cussing at the door, trying to yell at Cat through the door to pull the keys out of the lock, and doing anything else we could think of to get the keys out of the lock, we walked up to Andrew's office to get the number for our landlord. He wasn't even sure he'd have it there but somewhere in an old email he found it . We tried calling him and then walked home with some paperclips we were hoping to use to push the keys out of the lock from the outside of the door. Surprisingly that didn't work. Around this time we could hear Cat inside the door meowing to be let out.

We finally gave up and called a Spanish friend and asked him to call a locksmith for us. We couldn't even do that on our own, not speaking the language. He found a guy who said he'd do it for 120 Euros max but he'd be another hour before he could get here. That was our cheapest options so we went with him and tried to get a little sleep on the steps outside our door until he came. At around 12.30am he showed up, took a look at the door and told us it would be 167 Euros. That's $250 to open a door that wasn't even locked. I had to run downstairs to the ATM to grab more cash for him and before I'd hit the bottom step he'd opened the door. $250 for 3 minutes of work. By my calculations he makes about $5000/hr.

And then when he got the door open he poked his head in the apartment and asked Andrew how much we paid for rent. He kind of screwed up his face when Andrew told him and made some gesture indicating we were paying too much. He asked where we were from and indicated that's why we were getting screwed. He should know since that's why he'd charged us 50 Euros more than his highest quote for a job that could have only been easier if we'd left the door open a crack.

A Little More Normalcy

I doubt anyone still checks this blog after my rambling about La Merce and then my long periods of not posting. I'd really meant for this blog to be a place to write regularly about all the silly little things that best describe what it's like here for anyone who has asked. It seemed like Merce was such a big weekend that it was a chore writing about it and I'm sure more than a chore reading about it. Thank you and I'm sorry to anyone who read through it.

Andrew and I had been bugging Mushtaq and his girlfriend Justine (they're in the picture we posted earlier) to take us clubbing. Neither of us have ever really been out on a real European clubbing night since Andrew doesn't count his and Aaron's attempt at Bulgarian salsa night. The weekend after Merce we decided it was time to bust out our dance moves. After spending the night with friends we headed out to the club around 3am. Mushtaq and Justine kept warning us that the real clubbers didn't come out until around 4am so we were prepared for some down time. Unfortunately that's all the night was. Our great clubbing adventure consisted of us running up and down the stairs to see which of the two dance floors was the least boring. Justine gave up at one point and stood in the middle of the dance floor glaring at the DJ. At times she was the only one on the floor so you'd think he'd have understood something was wrong. It was kind of like a church dance with more alcohol and less Village People.

We finally gave up after an hour of dancing just like we did at church dances only with a lot more self-consciousness. You know the dancing where you just step from side to side, the calling card of those of us who have never really danced outside of an LDS cultural hall. It only looks worse the older you are because at some point before you're able to frequent clubs you are expected to learn some other moves which I clearly have not.