But where's Captain Jack Sparrow?

This shabby looking sailing boat appeared from the mist when we were on our sort of photohunt around the shores of the Hoornse Plas in Groningen. The thick mist and the fresh snow that covered land and ice made it difficult to see where the land stopped and the lake began. A matter of keeping our fingers crossed and treading carefully.

On closer inspection it turned out to be a work of art. With metal sails. I'm guessing it lies on the sandy beach that is created on this side of the lake. It could also be in the water. I didn't have the heart to examine that any further. It's just big enough to seat two persons. Me and Johnny Depp? But where is Captain Jack Sparrow when you need him?

(I have it on good authority he's alive and in France. Perhaps I'll try again this summer ;-))

Uncomfortable bike

Been Sniffing Snow?

Three simple questions

- What is it with tomato sauce and it's incontrolable urge to nestle itself on my clothes? - Why do I find Charley Boorman so attractive? These are only two of the questions I ask myself almost daily. Recently another question has been added to the headache-provoking list: - How does one pronounce Evie? We, hubs and I, pronounce it with both E and ie sounding like e. Which, we think, is the English way. In Dutch we would pronounce it like Avee. But we prefer the, what we think is, English way. But since 'nameplategate' and one or two of you native English speakers commenting that at least Evi is pronounced the same as Evie, I'm totally confused. I'm no longer fussed over the art of avoiding tomato sauce spekcled clothes. (I have tried wearing an apron, but the sauce never lands on the apron. Always on the clothes.) And Charley Boorman's attractiveness has been shoved to the background, which is quite an achievement, because I dó consider him to be one of my many future husbands, one should always keep dreaming. Evie/Evi has taken over. And I ask you, dear readerfriend, how dóes one write Evie the way we pronounce it? Because I would say, but I am not a native English speaking person, that one would pronounce Evi as in Levi, with the i sounding like... well... i. And Eve would be pronounced as Eev. Or not? I can think of Evy, but would that not also be pronounced as Levi? And suddenly, literally as I'm writing this, the light in my brain switches on. We should probably write it as Charley, but in stead of Charl - Ev, so Evey. Life can be so simple. Although Charley can of course also spelled as CharLIE. And you wouldn't pronounce the LIE of Charlie as 'lie' now. Or would you? ( 'Char' and 'lie'? But that is a whole other can of worms.) Have you lost me yet? Or have I lost you? It all makes sense to me, but I'm still not sure how one should write Evie to be pronounced as Evee. Could it be thát simple? But the spelling of Evee doesn't look as good as Evie. And in Dutch one would pronounce Evee as... uhm... well, with both E and ee sounding like 'a'. Not as in Ava though. Are you still here? Gosh. So, just to sum this quite confusing piece of 'writing' (ahum) up: three simple questions: 1) why does tomato sauce always land on my shirt, 2) what makes Charley Boorman such an attractive guy, 3) how should we write Evie/Evee/Evey/Evi/Eve to be pronounced the way we do? If you could only answer question number 3, I'd be very happy ;-) (Oh, hehe, and I just let hubs preread this piece before hitting the 'publish' button and he spoke the following winged words: "who the fuck is Charley Boorman?") (And I dó know there are far more important problems in this world. For instance: why is it that journalists and camera crews always manage to get to troubled places in this world easier and earlier than aid workers and - goods?)

What's in a name?

As I've mentioned once or twice before, we have some very lovely friends. And two of them decided to give us a present for our newly built stables, three years ago. They had two nameplates made out of wood, one with the name of hubs's horse Willem and one with the name of my horse, Naloma. For their stable doors. A wonderful idea and highly appreciated by us.

But since Naloma's foal arrived in April last year, we now have three horses. And since a couple of months now our foal is big enough to occupy the third stable. So we decided to ask one of the aforementioned friends, if she could perhaps ask the person who made the other nameplates to make a similar one for Naloma's foal.

Hubs was the first one to speak to said friend, so he asked her if she could ask the nameplatemaker to make one for our third stable occupant. "What name do you want on the plate?", friend asked. Hubs frowned. "I don't know", he said. "I'll have to confer with Carolina. She might have another idea about that than I have. We will come back to you on this." "Okay", friend said. "Just text me the name you want on the plate and I'll take care of it." So when hubs returned home, he asked me what name I wanted on the nameplate. The trouble is, you see, that we have named Naloma's foal Eavanaloma (Eavan = Irish for 'fair radiance', Aloma = Naloma's mother). Eavanaloma is the name that she is registered under in the Royal Warmblood Horse Register, but we call her Evie. It rolls so much easier off the tongue. We thus had to decide if we wanted Eavanaloma on the nameplate, or just Evie.

Something told me that we were asking for trouble if we chose Eavanaloma. So many mistakes waiting to be made with all those letters. Besides, it would be a HUGE nameplate. We decided to go with Evie. The safer and shorter option.

So I texted to friend that we wanted EVIE on the nameplate. Last week friend called that the nameplate was ready and if I wanted to pick it up. We hadn't asked her how much it would cost, but I made an uneducated guess, checked my purse if I had enough money and went her way. Actually, she had a riding lesson so I went to see that and she would bring the nameplate with her. She is a horserider and trains together with another friend of ours. And their trainer is another very good friend of ours, the one who helped us bring Evie into this world as you may remember. I regularly go to watch their training, not only because I find it very educating to watch other peoples riding lessons, but also because all three friends are mad as hatters, so extreme laughing guaranteed. As I arrived they were just mounting their horses. "The nameplate is in the tackroom", friend said. So I went to the tackroom and found the lovely little wooden nameplate for Evie's stabledoor. It made me chuckle. I went back to the riding hall. "Ah, let's see", trainerfriend said. "Will Evie finally be having her name on the door?" I showed him the plate. "Lovely!", he said. "What a short and simple name she has in fact. For such a big girl." "Well actually", I laughed, "we first wanted to have her full name on the plate, E A V A N A L O M A. But somehow I thought that thát would be too difficult perhaps." "Haha", friend who had nameplate made laughed. "I think so too!"

"It's wonderful. How much do I owe you?", I asked. "Nothing!", friend said. "It is a present!" "Oh, but that is so sweet of you. But I asked you for it, so are you sure? I brought money. I really want to pay you." "No", friend insisted. "It's a present." "Well, in that case...thank you very much."

And this is it. We haven't mounted it on the stabledoor yet. But we will. Because we love our friend. And it makes us smile. And you should never look a gift horse in the mouth.

What's in a name eh?

Something very special, just for you

First of all, A VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR to all of you. May only good things happen to you and may there be lots of sunshine in your life this year. Even if it rains. And I would like to mark this special occasion, the start of 2010, with a very special gift to you. You see, I'm a very shy person. You wouldn't know it if you'd met me, but I would love to spend my life somewhere under a rock. I'd be perfectly happy living in the middle of nature, with my beloved animals and hubs and an internet connection. I'd make do without the luxury of a washing machine (although it is quite convenient to have a working one, as I've discovered last year when I had to wait far too long for someone to repair my broken one), I wouldn't mind making coffee in the old-fashioned way: grinding beans, cooking water and gradually adding that to the filter with the ground beans in it. You see, I'm thát old that I still know how to make coffee without the all-singing-all-dancing-fancy-espresso-machine that graces our kitchen with its presence. And I have forgotten some basic English and am not sure if 'ground' is correct. Thát old! It's not that I don't like people. I do. I love my friends. And they love me. I'm reasonably anti-social, in that I don't like parties and if I can help it I won't go, I don't phone people (I do text and email however), and I don't often go to any of them. For some reason my friends accept my weirdnesses. I have some great friends. I'm shy and very unsure, although I'm a master in never (éver) showing that to anyone but hubs. And if I tell someone I am, they never believe me. Because "you are so self-assured". Uhuh. No. I'm not! I am so unsure about the way I look, that there are no photos of me from the age of about 15 up to now. Except for the hideous ones on my drivers licence and passport. I hate the way I look on photos. And if I see one of myself I genuinly have to cry. I know. It is shallow. But every time I convinced myself that I was not the ugliest person alive and someone took a photo of me, I had proof that I actually wás. I hope you understand how utterly traumatic seeing a picture of me has been. For me that is. Other people could look at a photo of me, before I grabbed it, tore it apart and threw it away, without obviously being disgusted. After I got rid of the photo, I would get rid of the photographer. We will never see them again...whahaha. (Oh, and just to warn you: don't say to someone as traumatised about his/her own photograph as me, that they "look just as they are in real-life" without wearing a helmet.) Anyhoo. I'm telling you all this, just to let you know how véry special this post is. Just for you! Because, actually, I have...yes...I really have...a photo of me that I can look at and be proud of. And I've taken it myself. And to make it even more special, it is REALLY close-up. And I feel that you, as my very kind and sweet blogpals, might appreciate seeing me. I took it on the same day as the one in my sidebar, my 'profile-picture'. But that is sort of a disguised/hidden photo. I was quite happy with that one too. Otherwise I would not have posted it. It is all the result of the photography-course I did last year. One of the assignments was to make a self-portrait. Gosh, you don't know how much courage it took to make these and actually look at them. So, either I have become better to look at, or I can better look at me. Or, I have finally got used to the way I look. Or, after almost 45 years of trauma, I don't care anymore. So, now there is a recent photograph of me. Always useful if I get misplaced or lost. I'm really not fishing for compliments, but feel free to give them. Here it is. Look away now if you are easily scared...

BOO!

(no honestly, it's okay isn't it?)

(gawd, see how insecure I am?)

(just ignore these last three lines)