Dear Mr. President

Dear Mr. President:

It is a gorgeous day here in the Netherlands where I live.  Absolutely clear blue sky, moderate temperature, nice breeze.  That doesn't actually happen too very often here, so I am glorying in it while I can.  I hope that you, too, have time to simply relish the beauty of a nice day sometimes.

Which brings me to my point: I have a suggestion for you which, although quite a small change, could, I think, make a big difference in various policies around the nation and certainly in perception.  My hope is that it could also prompt a huge change in practice.

My suggestion is simply this: hang out your laundry to line-dry.

Now, I know at first glance this might seem to be a trivial, even silly suggestion.  But I assure it is not meant to be at all.

Although I am sure we could find several issues to disagree on, we have quite a bit in common as well.  For one thing, we are both parents of two girls.  For another, we both own dogs.  We both have amazing spouses.  We both have a faith background which teaches us that God's good creation is to be lovingly stewarded.  Different people, of course, have different ideas on exactly how that stewardship should be carried out, but I am hoping that we can quickly agree on at least one basic principle: conserving energy (particularly by cutting down on electricity and gas usage) is a good thing.

Hanging out the laundry on a line to dry is an excellent means of doing just that, in addition to utilizing solar power, sanitizing one's clothes and linens (the sun's UV rays kill bacteria), saving money, and encouraging better sleep.  It honors tradition, makes practical use of materials at hand, and serves as an equalizer.  What could be more American?

I am sure you are aware of the several "planned communities" across the country -- several of them within a 25-mile radius of where you currently live.  Many, if not the vast majority, do not allow line-drying of laundry; it is "unsightly" which is just a slightly more polite way of saying "tacky".  I used to be a homeowner in one (Reston, VA) and used to follow all the rules about paint colors and light fixtures.  I obsessed about mulch and edge trimming and decried gutters which needed cleaning.

But then I moved and while I have continued to care for the various properties I have lived in, I am no longer a perfectionist about my landscaping.  Parts of my back yard are helpfully landscaped for me by my dog. Other parts boast incredible peonies, iris, strawberries, beans, honeysuckle, raspberries, and herbs.  And I hang out my laundry.  I am friendly with my neighbors, keep track of my children's homework, volunteer in the community, and laugh a lot.  I have discovered that there is a lot more to life -- a whole lot more -- than meeting some preset standard of beauty for my home and yard, especially when that standard is unhelpfully contributing to the destruction of other beautiful things.  While I might not be as posh as some may like, I certainly don't think my life can be described as "tacky" and surely the sight of clean laundry blowing in the breeze cannot be so incredibly horrible as to justify the amount of energy use and noxious emissions caused by electric/gas dryers.

It's just a little thing, line-drying laundry.  But it could make a difference, and a pretty big one, if it really gets people thinking about things like quality of life, stewardship, and dependency on fossil fuels.  So I encourage you to hang out the White House's laundry to dry.  To set an example of easy, do-able creation stewardship; to show people that concerns about "tacky" laundry lines are needless.  To set an example the same way your wife has done with her garden.

Perhaps hanging out the Presidential skivvies is not in the best interests of the dignity of the office of President (although there are ways to cleverly hang unmentionables on the inner lines with larger items on outer lines, hiding said unmentionables), but surely linens could be hung out quite easily?

And Mr. President, I assure you that there is no other luxury quite like that of falling into soft, breeze-freshened, sun-dried sheets at the end of a particularly stressful day -- of which I presume you have a few.

Respectfully,
Feisty

The Things Come to Town

If you haven't ever checked out Ironic Mom, you really should go do that now.  It's one of my daily regulars, a site that helps keep me sane by assuring me that I'm not the only one living La Vida Loca.  (Try starting with two of my favourite posts: the one about stripper Barbie and the one about being sexy.)  Recently Ironic Mom's little Things (the alter egos of her twins, William/Thing 1 & Vivian/Thing 2) stopped by as part of their whirlwind world tour, and we treated them to some typical aspects of life here in the Netherlands.  Hopefully we didn't traumatize them too much, but I wouldn't bet on it...

The Things arrived the evening before my scheduled stoma reversal, so they were tucked into bed early to rest up for the big op the next day.  Next morning they accompanied me to the hospital and were ushered into the spacious 4-bed room I would be sharing with various and sundry noises and smells people. They were thrilled with the view out the window, especially catching a glimpse of Fort SintPieter, which I assured them we could visit after the ordeal was over.

We then unpacked, loading up the bedside table with post-op essentials such as lip balm, tissues, good books, and trashy magazines.  The Things happily settled into the bed, much agog with my stories of tea served in real china, staff people who tend the gift bouquets brought in, and proper duvets to sleep under.

They were less than thrilled, however, when the nurse came with the gown to change into as they realized that my warning "if the Dutch are comfortable with nudity in the situation they think you are as well" was all too true.  They quickly devised a scheme to retain their modesty:

The amount of laughter and ribald comments which greeted them soon changed their minds.  They decided "when in the Netherlands, do as the Dutch" was a good policy, combined with a bit of "see no evil":

After this happy compromise we settled down to wait.  And wait.  And wait.  When the transport came to take me down, they blew kisses and wished me well, looking forward to some uninterrupted channel surfing.  When I was brought back up not too much later in a considerably foul mood they were irritated along with me that the op had been bumped.  We threw our stuff into our bag, went home, and drowned our sorrows in chocolate.

Next day we headed over to the dog park at Sint Pieter's.  The Things were a bit worried by the chill wind and the signs of rain in the sky and asked to stay in the car.  We had to be very strict and Dutch with them, saying, "Jullie zijn niet van zuiker gemaakt!"  (You are not made of sugar!)

At first they hitched a ride along with Boo.

But after a bit, seeing how much fun everyone was having running around, they chose to ride along with Bubba.

They had a grand old time, and got to see Fort SintPieter (relatively modern at 1701) up close and personal along with Boo, Bubba, and F.

Our next big outing was to Efteling, the Dutch amusement park which inspired Disney Land.  The Things happily trucked along with Boo and Little Toot, oohing and ahhing at all the rides.

We hoped a fast ride on the wooden roller coaster Joris en de Draak ("Joris and the Dragon") would fluff out their hair but, alas and alack, it didn't.  It was a lot of fun anyway!

They greatly enjoyed wandering the beautifully landscaped grounds; what could be more Dutch than tulips and windmills?

All the walking and screaming on rides gave the Things quite an appetite, so we stopped off for a snack of fritjes (french fries) before leaving.

Thing 2 preferred the curry ketchup, but Thing 1 was partial to the mayonaise (pronounced mah-o-naze-uh).

A few days later was Queen's Day, a nationwide party in honor of Queen Beatrix.  The Things jumped right into the spirit, cross-dressing up (always guaranteeing a laugh in the Netherlands) in orange for the big party in downtown Maastricht.

Like all good Dutch citizens, we bicycled downtown.

We joined right into the throngs of people laughing, dancing, selling things, performing, chatting.  The Things' favourite was the drum band.

We were also able to share the spectacular view of the Maas, with stunning new pedestrian bridge and the older drawbridge in the background:

The Helpoort ("Hell Gate", 13th century), the oldest city gate in the Netherlands, was a big hit as well:

All this Dutch-ness was fun, but a bit overwhelming.  The Things began to feel homesick, so that evening we gave them our latest copy of Our Canada to read and played some Tragically Hip for them to listen to:

The next adventure was my operation, which miraculously took place as scheduled this time around.  The Things were very comforting in their post-op sympathy, joining me with bandages, tea, and warm compresses:

On their last full day with us the weather was gorgeous so we decided to go on a nice country wandeling (walk).  We went to the top of one of the local plateaus (this is the southern Netherlands!) to check out the wildflowers in bloom.

The Things recognized Queen Anne's Lace from back in Canada right away and had a little frolic in the Forget-Me-Nots as well:

Check out that amazing blue!  (Oh, and the flowers are also pretty...)  Next was hunting up native wild orchids which grow here in Limburg.  The Things were thrilled to find two varieties, a pale lilac orchid:

and a brighter fushia-purple one:

We admired the views from top of the plateau together, with the city of Maastricht in the distance:

Then it was time to head home, for our last meal together.  We made it a celebration and served up a traditional Dutch springtime supper: white asparagus and boiled potatoes with a creamy butter sauce, ham, boiled eggs, and applesauce.  The Things loved the "Dutch White Supper" as Boo & Little Toot call it.

All in all, it was a fun visit and a very pleasant distraction for me through the process of this last surgery.

The Things are now off on their next adventure, but you can continue to follow them along via the Ironic Mom website.  Het was een leuk tijd, Thing 1 en Thing 2; hartelijk bedankt en tot ziens!