A Vacation, Part IV: Germany

France, Italy, and Croatia had been a whirlwind of organized chaos amidst figuring out public transportation, airbnb contacts, and what to see/eat/do in relatively short timeframes. Four days here and four days there, the thrill of a nomadic life is indeed thrilling and a bit exhausting. We had traveled by plane, train, bike, bus, and boat by this point (I think our transportation record in one day was: shuttle to train to airplane to bus to boat. Europe!) The main reason we headed across the pond, (besides a romantic adventure), was to visit Daniel's sister, Lana, and her husband, Chris while they are doing the whole expat thing. We had originally planned for one additional stop in Italy but decided to split the rest of our trip between Chris and Lana's flat in { Regensburg} and an upcoming short venture to Prague. AND I'm so glad we did! Germany was a breath of fresh air. Literally.

They welcomed us with open arms into their new home, which quickly became our home-away-from home. Family, food, and an insane mountain climb during a thunderstorm (Lana, we need to post those GoPro videos!), what more could you ask for?

If only Germany wasn't so far away. I'd ask for that.

We did it! And then we got drenched. 

(this hike HERE) 

Everyone. EVERYONE at the top was over the age of 40 and looked like they stepped out of an REI catalogue. 99% had those funny ski pole things, used for, well, hiking. 

Look at us. We conquered. We flew up and down that thing. In tennis shoes and basketball shorts. 

The motivational power of prosecco and pasta, my friends. 

xoxo

{Bon Bon}

Want more Germany photos? Check out Lana's IG: @lanamarie23

Want more (boring) Oregon photos? Check out my IG: @bonifous

I Don't Know

I've gone back and forth in my head for weeks about writing this post, and then Bob Goff told us on Sunday that we all need to "stop acting cool!" and if anyone can light a fire under you and make you actually do something you've only been thinking about doing, it's Bob Goff, must open Blogger and must type and must get this off my brain and must tell everyone, Bob Goff.

And in typical Bob Goff style, let's preface this with a story.*

Several months ago, I met a new mom friend at the park, as one regularly does when you're a woman mainly conversing with a toddler all day long and then you see !another adult! Our kids instantly zeroed in on each other from across the swing set and within no time we had exchanged numbers in the hopes of future meet-up double date play dates.

A couple public outings later and we were ready for the next level in our relationship: THE play date. At home. Her home. (I just re-read this and it sounds more and more like an OkCupid exchange...welcome to: Making New Friends in Your mid-20s, 101).

We had initially bonded over our general appreciation for health, natural childbirth, and other surface hippiedom. Maybe I mentioned my batch of Fire Cider in the fridge or Bean's delayed vaccine schedule or impassioned love of Pamela's chocolate cake (even though I'm not even GF in the slightest) or numerous dry Tina Fey-isms, but for whatever reason, we hit it off and now the Bean and I were pulling up into the driveway of their house.

Thirty minutes later, eating a batch of tapioca quinoa cranberry muffins with the smells of sage and homeschooling in the air while the kids played with yarn balls, cardboard, and wooden sticks I had to wonder how I actually ended up here.

Five minutes upon arrival, the Bean had rolled the one and only wooden truck across the floor and then politely inquired where the other toys were. I simultaneously wanted to curl up in the fetal position, grab the three Hot Wheels cars in my purse, and laugh at how funny a toddler playing with a yarn ball is. Like a cat. We had an afternoon of playing with cat toys ahead of us.

Overall, we lasted about an hour and a half. And we covered the alternative lifestyle gamut. No mention of those oils. Thank goodness. Obviously, because we make our own.**

As I said goodbye, I felt energized and drained at the same time.
It's interesting spending time with someone so definitively passionate on one side of things. This way is the only way, side of things.
Had she driven off other friends before with such a polarized view?

We haven't corresponded since.
Perhaps due to pesky winter colds, traveling, holiday seasons, and maybe deep down she could see how much I was craving some gluten.***

...


Growing up, my role in various friendship circles was "peacemaker." I like to gather everyone up, include anyone, and you can call me Bonnie "Can't We all be Friends" Iliyn.
I've never understood cliques. I tried to be apart of one once during a Valentine's dinner at the Old Spaghetti Factory, and failed miserably. Or succeeded greatly, because the girl we tried to gang up on is one of my closest friends to this day. How can you exclude someone, just because they're different than you? If I wanted to surround myself with people just like myself, I'd probably turn into Miley Cyrus with all that nodding and yes-ing and you go girl-ing and you should definitely wear that outfit-ing all the time.

My circle of friends is a widespread tapestry of personalities, viewpoints, ideas, talents, and beliefs. I can eat at a vegan restaurant with one and Burgerville with another. Dont lie, deep down you love that special sauce too.
McDonald's. Muchas Gracias. IHOP. I will eat green eggs and ham, (during my time in Rwanda, I think I did). I actually could care less sometimes the what or where. I'm way more interested in the who. The important questions instead of the distracting details.

In no way am I implying that we have to be friends with everyone, (says the girl who used to save mice from our cat Brutus, and has cried way too many times during Oreo commercials, cause I'm the Grinch who's heart grows three sizes...every day), or that we shouldn't have loud and proud voices.

When someone is really up on their social media soapbox though, (about things that really don't really matter), then, "Yeah, well, you know, that's just like, your opinion, man," says my inner Lebowski. You can call me Bonnie "Agree to Disagree" Iliyn****

I can't tell you how many many maaaaaaany people of "influence" these days are sitting on this seemingly "authority" pedestal. How many many maaaaaaany people are they driving away with their need to be right? Sure, we all might know some things, but are we wise about it? Big difference.

It's just another clique I don't want to be a part of. I'm bad at being a part of it.

I guess I'm not cool enough to be a part of it.


xoxo

{Bon Bon}



*You should most definitely read "Love Does."

**Sarcasm aside, I do, and have for awhile, but I'm not into the whole selling trendy bragging thing that's a part of, oh geez, just keep reading.


***Just a recent, vague example that I could use. No harm, no foul. Like I said, my friends vary across the board. We have many things in common and those other pesky little things, who cares.


****Unless we're talking about certain justice issues, especially involving adolescents. Then I might join the pitchforks. Kids, man. It can't all be rainbows, butterflies, and kumbaya. Sigh.

Not a Sponsored Post

Every morning as I begin to hear the faint rustling of my husband alarm clock beside me, my hand instictively reaches out for my phone on the nigh stand. Blinded by the digits blaring back at me, I'm either begrudgingly swinging my legs out of bed or waving the white flag in a sleep surrender for five more minutes, give or take. From then on, my morning varies between good and usual.
Good Morning: Full outfit. Full makeup. Full coffee mug.
AND
Usual Morning: Sweatshirt. Leggings. Slippers. Lighting a candle on my shrine to whoever invented those drive-thru coffee huts.
A good or usual morning, depending on when my other human alarm clock yells "Mama! It's time to get up! I want pancakes! Where's my robot?"

I'm making toast, after a "sorry out of pancakes" temper tantrum, teaching a lesson on lego etiquette, "if you throw twenty pieces on the floor, we might only find seven now and step on thirteen of them later in the middle of the night" ala cause and effect, and checking my email. Ding ding ding. The life alarm. Remember to buy this. Sell this. Push this. Write this.

Whoa. It's not even eight in the morning, let me put my pants on before I read about what new pants I need to put on.

Four years ago, I would have been over the moon about a pants email (we are running with this whole pants metaphor. CS Lewis I am not).
Free pants? Me is to blog as pants is to get. Plus another pair for one lucky reader.
These are the best pants ever! Says the person who thinks Costco sample Saturday is the closest thing to Heaven on this side of the pearly gates.
Have free pants, will write was my hobo middle name on the side of a Blogger highway.
Then it was scarves, and jewelry, and shoes, and computer software...but free! Kinda like that one time I won free tickets...to a WWE event. Tickets to a stupid thing. FREE tickets to a stupid thing. Well, when you say it like that, hell yes I can smell what the Rock is cooking!
Giveaways, codes, comments, likes, follows, like for like, follow for follow, click, tap, do it all again.

You know what.
I just want to make pancakes (switching metaphors right about now).
I have the flour, sugar, eggs, and milk. Everything I need.

Best part is, you don't even need to wear pants while you make 'em.

Does that make any sense?
Come on over to my house and I can explain much better. I'll make you pancakes.
I'll wear pants. Gah.

I made you read "pants" eleven times.

I've missed this blog.


xoxo

{Bon Bon}