The 5 Minute Catch Up

It should be no surprise that I am horrible about keeping up with people (although Facebook helps immensely) ...and apparently that has now flown through to keeping up with this blog. There has just been so much going on and the stress of it all has killed all of my creativity. And the more overwhelming my life has become, the more daunting it seems to update this blog on the past few months.

But just recently, with less than 10 minutes of a cab ride to home and 7 minutes of battery life left on my cell phone, I was able to have a proper catch up with Erin…it had been 5 months. And it was during those CNN-like rapid-fire questions and answers that I realized that what this blog needed was a 5 minute catch up to get everyone up to speed so we can start again.

So here it goes:

In November, Martin quit his job thereby speeding up his move over to California. At the end of January, Martin made the trek across the pond with his 2 bags and high hopes of getting a visa and job, finally ending our 18 month long distance relationship. February was spent with me working day and night and Martin trying to get settled into his new life in San Francisco. March continued with little luck on the job or visa front for Martin, me starting to re-evaluate my life as an auditor and weekends spent looking for houses ala House Hunters on HGTV. In April we were rejected from 2 house offers and no big news on our “lofty” goals, but our relationship continued to settle into normalcy. And finally in May, we were able to sort out the visa situation for Martin (meaning Martin had to head to Germany for the processing), had our third and final offer get accepted on a house meaning Martin will have a project to work on (more on that to come) and I have transitioned into a new role at work.

With the ambitious goals set out for us in February - visa, job, job and house – I say we are doing surprisingly well. Hopefully things will start to settle down soon, especially once Martin gets back home and we move into our new place.

The End of Lent… Happy Easter!

To caveat this post – I, Lisa Gimbel, am not very religious, never really have been and don’t really see it in my future. However I am, or at least try to be, sympathetic to most, if not all religions, acknowledging the fact that they provide so much to so many people. Unfortunately, at times I may inadvertently say and do things that might be construed as sacrilegious…(My thoughts of stealing a hotel room bible is just one example… in my defense, I consider it one of the classic pieces of literature that I should probably read and I figured why spend money on something so readily available. That, plus from my understanding, the bibles are there to help spread the word of the Lord and what better way than to take Him home with me.)

My yearly tradition of giving something up for Lent might also fall into this category.

My entire exposure to Catholicism can be boiled down to a few Sunday outings to church, my dad’s stories of growing up with “penguins” and every Catholic person I know claiming to have more guilt laid upon them than anyone else. But needless to say, I find the idea and concept of Lent fascinating; if for nothing more than challenging yourself to give up something for 40 days and 40 nights…. Hey, I gave up eating four legged animals for 2 years just to see if I could (which come to find out I could…that is until I got a job at Toga’s sandwich shop and felt the need to try every sandwich on the menu. I am now a full blown four-legged animal lover…Mmmm, bacon.)

But I digress….

Every year, I try to give up something for Lent, and while most people claim my sacrifices don’t count, I have to counter that I am unselfishly giving up my right of choice, which in itself is huge.

One year in college I gave up bananas. I wasn’t a huge fan of bananas at the time and therefore thought it would be an accomplishable challenge. Unfortunately for me, whether it was the lack of potassium or bottle of Rum I had consumed, I gave in to my temptations on Day 38 while at a party after noticing a bunch of the beautiful yellow fruit on top of the refrigerator of some random apartment.

In my San Francisco hey-day, I gave up tequila shots after 10pm…yes, that is correct, tequila shots were forbidden, but only after the witching hour had arrived. This choice was more for health reasons given that my tequila in-take typically increased after 10pm and, on weekdays that didn’t always make for the most productive workday the following morning. Surprisingly, although tempted on numerous occasions, I was able to restrain myself and make it through the 40 days…The fact that my tequila in-take between 9:15 and 9:55pm increased significantly during those 40 nights is just a side note.

And this past year, after much consideration, I gave up Bud Light for the occasion. It originally began as Coors Light, but I figured that would be just a little too hard, even for me, so I settled on Coors Light’s second best. And of course, like all challenges, it wasn’t necessarily a smooth road to the finish. On St. Patrick’s Day, during hour 2 of the 8 hour marathon, I was informed by the bartender of the bar we had strategically posted up at, that they were out of Coors Light and my only two options were the $4 specials of Bud Light or the $8 Harps. It turned out to be one of my more expense nights on the town.

Twenty-five days later I was struck with another challenge which I heroically overcame. While on a trolley party for work (a moving bar that drives around the city on a city-wide pub crawl) my options were limited to Budweiser and Bud Light… I stuck with Bud Heavy and ended the night with a severely bruised foot. I am not sure if they are related, but if I had to guess....

At the end of 40 days and 40 nights, I am thankful to say that I made it through without giving into temptation (or convenience). And even better, I have not developed a strong liking for Bud Light…unlike my love of bananas which arrived only after giving them up for Lent.

Happy Easter!

Crazy Naked Germans

This past week was spent in Italy on the yearly Breuer Family Ski Holiday. And unfortunately, this is my attempt at combining two seeming less different stories into one blog. My apologies for the ADHD; after this past busy season, the brain is officially fried.

To clarify, the family ski holiday involves cross country skiing, not downhill skiing, so it was not exactly a relaxing, laid back trip…especially since the extent of my exercise for the previous 8 weeks consisted only of sitting in my chair and walking to the office fridge for a diet coke. To make things even worse, I was cross country skiing with the Crazy Breuer Family.

To most, or at least me, a 5km run would be sufficient exercise for the week. And while skiing is slightly easier in theory, it is still pretty impressive. So I was quite proud of myself for skiing the “easy” loop of 5km not just once, but every day of the vacation. However in comparison, I was the slacker in the group. Martin and his family, including his 70 year old mom, all completed at least 2 loops of the harder and longer 11km version each morning which included a monster hill and baby monster hill. And each afternoon, instead of heading to bed for a much needed nap, which is what I did every day, they would all go out and complete an additional loop that afternoon fueled only by their lunches of cake, strudel and coffee.

Thankfully Martin and his family acknowledge the fact that they are a bit extreme (I was beginning to think that all German’s were like this) and jokingly they refer to themselves as the Crazy Breuer Family – as Martin so delicately put it “most people think you should push yourself to their limits every once in a while; the Breuer’s think it is good to puke over that limit.” (On a side note – on the drive back to Germany Martin’s dad was able to point out the various, daunting mountain peaks in the distance that the family had previously climbed.)

And now on to the second story – although I am sure you can already guess where this one is heading – yes, it involves naked Europeans…

For better or worse, the idea of travelling to Europe no longer has the same butterflies-in-the-stomach, must-prepare-for-weeks effect on me. Maybe it has something to do with the 5 trips I took there in 2010 alone. Instead, flying to Europe provides me a level of comfort in a vacation, similar to heading to the Lake or SLO. So when I told people I was heading to Italy for the family ski holiday, I countered their amazed and excited responses with a casual “yeah, it should be great but it really isn’t that different than going skiing in Tahoe” And to some extent that is correct – I mean it is really just a small ski town with like minded people all out enjoying the snow. However everything is starkly different once the skiing is over and you go to sooth your muscles in the hot tub and/or spa. Stark naked that is…Italy is quite different from Tahoe given the number of naked Europeans running around the spa and in the saunas. If my American accent and shoes didn’t give me away while skiing and during the meals, my black bikini definitely identified me as an American during the spa sessions. Gotta love my modest, if not prude American upbringing as compared to the European nakedness!

Karma’s a Bitch!

It was bound to happen; really it was only a matter of time…after taking off a little over 3 months in 2008 and a five month sabbatical in 2009, good old uncle Pete figured it was time to settle up. And so, like all deals made with the devil, the payment hurt.

This busy season, officially January and February, was the worst busy season I have ever experienced, clocking in just shy of 300 hours in February alone and approximately 500 in just 8 weeks. For those who love math, that is around 12 hour days, every day, including Saturday and Sundays.

The good news, it ended on February 25th and I am back to doing the things I love: writing, traveling and hanging out with Martin, friends and family.

The silence is finally over!