Tag Archives: JWs

Funny stories, Hessen

We just got a visit from the “ghost” of Zane…

It’s been two weeks since we lost our beloved beagle, Zane, to canine lymphoma. I’ve really missed him a lot. It’s been hard getting used to not having him with me all the time, as I have for the last ten years.

I usually get “signs” when I lose a pet. Often, the signs come in the form of vivid dreams about the recently deceased animal. For years, I have had dreams about my long deceased pony, Rusty, who was my best friend in high school. I also get other “signs” that trigger memories. A lot of times, the visits seem to come in the form of unusual behaviors in surviving pets. For instance, Arran was never a particularly gentle dog when we had Zane– or especially compared to Zane, who was extremely gentle– but lately, he’s been a little more Zane-like. Unfortunately, Zane hasn’t influenced Arran to be as well behaved as Zane was, but Arran seems to be trying harder lately. I took him to the vet yesterday and, for once, he was a perfect gentleman who didn’t shriek the whole time.

This morning, the doorbell rang unexpectedly. It was the Jehovah’s Witnesses. We get them no matter where we are. The only place we’ve ever lived and missed out on JWs was when we lived on Fort Belvoir. And that was because it is a military installation, and JWs aren’t supposed to serve in the military. Religious proselytizing is also not allowed on military installations.

A very confident woman who spoke perfect UK accented English announced to Bill that she wanted to “talk about the Bible”. Bill interrupted her and launched into a diatribe about an angry conversation he’d had with God regarding Zane’s recent death. Without giving her a moment to collect herself, Bill told our unexpected and uninvited German religion peddling visitor a story that probably rattled her sensibilities. I don’t know this for sure, but I have a feeling that even religious Germans have a hard time swallowing “Rainbow Bridge” talk about animals and their souls. Most Germans strike me as being much too practical to believe in animals having that kind of a connection to God… but, of course, I could be wrong about that.

Bill told the JW that when it became clear Zane was going to die, he’d told God that he was pissed off that, once again, we were going to be forced to euthanize a much beloved family member. But then, Bill got an “answer” from God, reminding him that euthanasia is ultimately a gift. We would have some time to make sure Zane was comfortable. I could take many pictures of his last days. We’d be there to ensure that he didn’t suffer, and he would not be alone as he took his last breath.

As Bill was relating that story, I could hear his voice raw with emotion. I knew he also had tears in his eyes, because I’ve seen and heard him like that before. I could hear the JW lady trying and failing to steer the conversation back to her pitch for the JWs. But Bill resolutely continued on with his thoughts on God and our dog’s recent demise. The JW’s male partner was silent the whole time, probably thinking they’d run into a nut.

The JW finally broke in and asked if we had a Bible in the house. Bill said we did. But then she concluded, “But you’re probably in a hurry, aren’t you? You’re too busy to talk to us, right?”

“No, actually, I’m not.” Bill said.

So they spent a few more uncomfortable minutes talking, and I could tell the JW was non-plussed about how to deal with this man who was controlling the conversation, talking about his recently deceased dog. It was pretty funny, and I could just picture the ghost of Zane defending the family, just as he always has, in his noisy, but offbeat, way.

Finally, she said, “Thank you.” and took off. I have a feeling she won’t be back. Although Bill might have gotten the same results if he’d just told her he was a Mormon and offered her a Book of Mormon and a stimulating discussion about religion, I am tickled that Zane’s spirit showed up just in the nick of time. He always was a very faithful and loyal dog who would protect us and the home with his life… or, in this case, his death.

Thanks for “visiting”, Zaneykins… Mama misses you. <3

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Fancy in Annecy… Our first visit to the “big city”… part four

Friday morning, we woke up to a few clouds and a nice buffet breakfast.  Breakfast at Hotel Les Grillons runs from 8:00am until 10:00am.  Make a note of that time if you decide to book there.  Bill didn’t.  More on that later.  Friday morning, we were perfectly contented to sleep in a little.

Friday night’s dinner menu.

 

Friday morning’s buffet breakfast.  It was the same each day.

The buffet breakfast offers ham, cheese, a variety of breads for toast or just jam and butter.  There’s fresh fruit, fresh pancakes, and yogurt…  and there’s also an egg boiler.  I mention this, because I’ve only ever seen these things in France.  In the fall of 2014, right around the time Bill and I moved back to Germany, we visited Colmar, France.  We stayed in a nice, family run hotel in a suburb called Bischwihr.  That hotel also boasted a wonderful restaurant and an included breakfast.

Somehow during that October 2014 visit, I didn’t realize that the eggs sitting in front of the boiling water were for people to boil to their hearts’ content.  I took an egg and found it raw.

Hotel Les Grillons had a similar set up.  They had thoughtfully provided a timetable for cooking the eggs as well as actual egg timers.  Bill decided to cook a couple of eggs.  However, he failed to realize the water wasn’t boiling.  I think he thought the longer times suggested by the sign in front of the machine meant that the eggs were intended to cook at a lower temperature.  Leave it to my husband to think of sous vide cooking when he’s boiling eggs.  He brought the eggs to the table and, sure enough, they were almost raw.  Another guest, similarly burned by the non boiling water, thought to turn up the heat.  The next day, Bill managed to cook a perfect egg for me… and a less perfect one for him, since he doesn’t like them soft.

We headed into Annecy and parked by the port, where a bunch of boats were waiting for eager tourists to take on a lake tour.  I was really tempted to go on a tour.  I was especially tempted by the big Bateaux ship that does lunch and dinner cruises…  We did one in London and had a decent time.  On the other hand, I remembered that those ships kind of force you to be a captive audience and the food quality can be really good or very poor.  Also, there is a lot of nickel and diming, which I hate.  So I told Bill I’d rather walk around the city.

I managed to get some nice shots of Annecy in action…

I was excited to see a number of signs in English.

The water in Lake Annecy is said to be extremely clean, even if I did see some signs of obvious pollution.

If you want to tour the lake by boat, you have plenty of options… and not just in Annecy.

We visited Annecy on Friday and Sunday; both days they had a big market.

They also had paddle boats.  The guys running the boats were very enthusiastic, although the clouds made me less enthusiastic.  There’s also a beach area not far from the boats where one can swim, lie in the sun, or wade.

I loved the canopy of trees.

This is the big lunch/dinner cruise ship.  We thought about doing it for lunch yesterday, but they were fully booked.

This is the area where most tourists were congregating.

The Bastille…  which I learned means jail.  There’s a restaurant named La Bastille located nearby that gets horrible reviews.

If you like good food…

Stroll through here…  if you can.

It was very obnoxious yesterday.  I’m glad I got pictures on Friday, when it was less congested.

I wished I could buy some stuff.  

Huge meringues!

After we passed through the throng of people shopping for food, we wandered the city some more.  A couple of women approached us and tried to speak to us, but seemed scared off when we told them we don’t speak French.  We happened to notice the Jehovah’s Witnesses had set up a rather prominent display near the boats.  I wondered if they were with them.  The two women didn’t seem to be friends.  We often get stopped by people, though.  I guess we look friendly.

Canals in Annecy.

And flowers…

A pig, that people obviously tried to sit on at one time.

A sax player.

And a CBD oil/telecom store.  Guess they were branching out.

Obligatory church pictures.

At around this point, it was definitely time for lunch.

I was tempted by this ice cream stand…

Instead, we stopped at Milton Pub, which was like an oasis of peace.  They were playing really good music and offered some excellent beers.  I see they only get three stars on Trip Advisor.  What a shame.  We enjoyed our visit.

I had a very large Kwak.

Bill had charcuterie.

I had fish and chips.

And another beer…  at one point, they played music from Bizet’s Carmen and the waitresses laughed because I was dancing to it in my seat.  What can I say?  I am a frustrated musician at heart.

Nice terrace area, but not when the market is going.

One of Bill’s buddies asked for wine.  We went shopping.

No touchy!

I’m not sure what this was about. 

We stopped in for more bottles of wine to bring home.

Then we ran across this harpist, who was entertaining these kids.  

She was very kindly letting them look at her instrument.  I got Bill to buy one of her CDs.  It turns out her name is Jessica Browning and she’s from… Memphis.  😀  Bill’s dad lives near Memphis.  And she has a Web site, too.  I love to buy music from buskers.

I enjoyed a gelato and watched the water while Bill chatted with her.

And this guy, too.

Dramatic skies on the way back to the hotel.

This was the last of the clouds during our visit!

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Ding Dong!

 

Yesterday, I was minding my own business at my computer when the doorbell rang.  When I lived in the United States and people rang my bell unexpectedly, I usually didn’t answer it.  Here in Germany, I answer because sometimes it’s my landlords or someone coming by on business.  Like, for instance, a couple of weeks ago, the chimney sweep came by.  What I miss about our old house in Germany was that there was a window by the door that wasn’t covered in decorative 70s era glass.  You could look out and see who was calling.  Here, we have a peephole.  I should probably use it more often.

Anyway, the bell rang.  I hustled the dogs into the downstairs “apartment”.  I opened the door and it was an older gentleman who ignored our “Keine Werbung” (no advertising) sign left by people who lived here before us.  He was holding a catalog and a roster.  He launched into a rapid fire German spiel.  I stopped him and said I didn’t understand.  He switched to decent English and said he was representing a company that sells frozen foods.  He wanted my phone number so “some girl” could call me for my order.  He proffered a catalog, which I initially took.

I told him, truthfully, that we don’t have a house phone.  He wanted my cell number.  I do have one of those, but I haven’t yet memorized the number.  Really, I haven’t.  No one ever calls me and I don’t call myself.  So I don’t know it off the top of my head.  So I told him I didn’t know the number.  But I said I’d take a look at the catalog because, honestly, we might have been interested.  In fact, I just ordered a box from the German version of Hello Fresh! the other day.

Well, my uninvited visitor’s demeanor immediately changed from friendly and enthused to decidedly pissy.  He wanted the catalog back.  I gave it to him and closed the door, feeling bewildered.  I mean, does he not have enough catalogs?  Does he only give them to people who give him a phone number?  Seems like a stupid way of doing business, because if I had liked what I saw, I very well may have ordered.  I just prefer to call companies myself rather than being ambushed in my home and having my phone number demanded of me.  Next time, I won’t even listen to the spiel.

Then this morning, around 11:00 or so, the bell rang again.  Right now, it’s 2:33pm and I’m still not dressed.  Fortunately, my husband is dressed and home.  He answered the door.  It was the Jehovah’s Witnesses.  We are very familiar with them, of course.  We get a visit from them every time we move.  I swear, I even got a visit from them in 1996, when I lived in Armenia.  They are everywhere.

I was actually a little worried that it might have been a neighbor coming over to complain because Bill took the dogs out in the wee hours of the morning for a pee and they got on a scent and started barking up a storm.  But no, it was someone peddling religion.  Bill is a lot nicer than I am.  He listened to the lady, who had a cute little daughter in tow, and took her card.  Of course, he probably wasn’t thinking about how that child was being taught that people like us are going to be doomed to hell for not being JWs… but on the other hand, most JWs are also doomed because only 144,000 will be saved in the remnant and most of them have already died.

I really need to quit answering the door.  On the other hand, sometimes unexpected visitors give me something to write about.  If the Mormons come, things might get more interesting.

I wish people would call before they come calling.  Sometimes, they catch me at very inopportune times.

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