I guess sometimes art does imitate life

Having previously established why we love the French, here's a funny story from our crazy road trip...
Since I was coming from Konstanz and my sister and mother were coming from the Heidelberg area, we decided it would be best if we met up where the train line intercepted their "car line". I got there a bit early, but soon enough the two of them pulled up in my parents' obnoxiously orange car. What we hadn't realized was that Offenburg's main train station is a really bad place to meet up. Yes, it is right off the Autobahn... but the signage is really bad and not at all conducive towards getting back ON the Autobahn and into France.

My mother no longer has any patience for crazy car drivers (maybe this is one of the many traits I've inherited from my mother?!), my sister is a good navigator but not a very insistent one - and I just wasn't going to get involved. I've learned when to keep my mouth shut.
Our first attempt, which involved following the signs took us right back to the train station. Our second attempt which involved following my mother's gut instinct (which usually is a good compass to follow) plus the signs spun us in another circle - and we suddenly dead ended at the beginning of a pedestrian zone. Yes, one might have thought that there would be sort of indication that the street ends suddenly with no opportunity to turn around or anything, but maybe we were just too close to France.
So there we sat. When suddenly...
You know how in slap-sticky comedy flicks things get really crazy and people are chasing each other and running away and missing each other and there's complete chaos there's always a marching band that will come out of nowhere and add exponentially to the confusion? And every time you watch a movie like that, you think, riiiiiiiiiiiiight, like that would really happen. Every time. Who comes up with this stuff? Isn't art supposed to imitate life?
Well, either art does imitate life or sometimes life just imitates art, but just as we came to a complete stop and frustration hit it's high point -
yes, the marching band began to play. I couldn't help myself and started laughing: "Really?! Really?! A marching band?!". Ok, it wasn't actually marching toward us aiming to engulf us and slam it's cymbals through the window and the trumpet player did not walk up onto the roof of our car or anything - they were sitting in the town square playing peacefully (albeit loudly) but still - a marching band?!
We did make it out on our third attempt and were merrily on our way... once we were rolling towards France we all started giggling, seriously? a marching band?!

How moving to my "native country" suddenly made me German...

It recently occurred to me that Sunday is the 4th of July and general convention dictates that I should have plans for the 4th of July. I don't think it matters what kind of plans - just that they exist and somehow make this day different from all others.
People have asked me what we do for the 4th of July in Germany. I generally answer something to the effect of, well if it's a weekday, we do normal weekday stuff and if it falls on a weekend we do weekend stuff.
They usually look confused for a minute or two.
Then understanding sets in and they say, oh yeah that's right, you don't have 4th of July in Germany. I generally cannot help myself but reply, uh, yeah we do. It comes right after July 3rd and until now has always been followed by July 5th - at least to my knowledge.
Though who knows, if Germany looses to Argentina on the 3rd, the world may end and there may really not be a 4th of July in Germany. Okay, I"ll admit, the main reason my parents have managed to swear off watching any World Cup Games this year has to do with the fact that I'm not around to turn the TV on. I like soccer. And when it comes to soccer, I will always stick with Germany. Always have, always will, even when they go head-to-head with the US. I'm invested in the outcome, to the extent that I'll watch the game, cheer if they ("we") do well, groan and roll my eyes if they ("they") start doing stupid stuff.  If they win I'll be there for the semi-finals and if they loose... well then they loose.
Actually, I think soccer is the only part of my life, I've actually chosen a country, national/cultural identity if you so will.
Interesting fact(s):
For two decades I was "the American", I had to deal with people mispronouncing my name, people making fun of American stereotypes, being criticized for whatever our former president came up with,... though for the most part, people close to me accepted that I was just me.
For two years on the ship I was "and Shannon..." during our parade of nations (sidenote: PON, which I usually avoided because it confused people to have me in them... had funky music and one by one people would walk on stage in their national costume being introduced as "Akira from Japan, representing the USA Anna-Marie, etc), after people began to accept (after initial hesitation and insisting that one HAD TO BE FROM ONE COUNTRY) that I was just me both German and American and neither.
All of the sudden, I have become German. People ask me where I'm from I usually say I grew up in Germany despite my US Passport. I've never really implied I was German. People are generally surprised by my lack of an accent and I always explain that with both my parents being American we always spoke English at home. But interestingly enough, from several people that I'd known and spent a lot of time with after about half a year they all the sudden were confused about my non-Germanness. (other people on the other hand played rugby with me for half a year and never wondered why people referred to me as "the German").
I don't really care, nor am I particularly bothered. I'm way past cultural crises. I'm still just me, and I reckon at the rate I'm going (and the places I'm might still be interested in going to), things aren't going to get any more simple. But then I've never been, anyway (it's okay, I know what you were all just thinking). Though I do think that sometimes it bothers me how quickly people are ready to "box me" and others up and put a cute little label on it.
Maybe what bothers me more, is the fact that they're are so willing to restrict themselves to their own little box - forgetting minor details such as that while "July 4th" does exist in every other country, it's of little to know importance to them. We're talking about the Birth of a Nation - and there's quite a bit happening beyond that.
Maybe what bothers me is that people are so quick to be content with what is right before their eyes. Yes, I understand that "stereotypes" can be helpful in an initial assessment of the situation, and I love making jokes based on stereotypes (I don't believe in political correctness, it just makes life boring), in my own respectful way. But there is so much more to the world and to people than what initially meets the eye. People and their stories can be so interesting. It usually only takes a little bit of thinking , a few logical steps and deductions to gain a world of understanding. Why is it, that people generally don't think things through? It seems that most people's world ends at the edge of their soup bowl.
I mean really, with a name like Shannon O'Leary how German could I really be?

Why we call it the ark...

Some people have asked me why my family refers to the "new" (yes, even if it is an old mill it's new for us!) house as The Ark. Now that I think if it, calling a house that is built over a creek and suffered a significant amount of flood damage some years back "The Ark", does have a bit of an ironic undertone!
I guess it's because it's a God Thing. One of those crazy things somebody does for no apparent reason - perhaps even against all human logic. Seriously, now that all four kids have moved out - why acquire a property with several old buildings, lots of lawns to mow, space to take care of? When God told Noah to build an Ark, that sounded like a pretty random idea (especially considering it probably hadn't ever "rained" up until that point), a pretty stupid idea actually. But in the end, it was a good thing that Noah did build an Ark, load it up and sit out the rain and the storms. That's the story behind our Ark in a nutshell, nobody really knows why, or what exactly will become of the Ark - but we're sure that in the end it will be a good thing.
I haven't met anyone yet who has been up to the Ark and hasn't fallen in love with the place. And I can tell who has caught the vision and who just still thinks it's the coolest place ever (which it is, but I'm convinced it'll be more, too!). There's so many doors and rooms and buildings my parents have a box of keys, each one of them labeled making it quite easy to grab a bunch and go explore. One of the is labeled "Seminarraum", the seminar room. If you go outside and halfway around the house you can enter a large "room" beneath the house: It's got a concrete floor, the walls are rough plaster and you can still see damage from the flooding, there are crates with water bottles in against one wall, a little oven off to one side (it's several degrees colder in there than outside or anywhere in the house), a few random things (garden chairs, the drier) there are large windows across the wall to your right and you can see the "back wall" opening up into the garden. At least that's what you would see if you took a picture.
For those of us who've caught the vision you stand in the doorway and you see a big room, well lit from the big windows to your right, a loooooooong table with comfy chairs,  a dry board, some instruments and music stands off in one corner, a shelf or two of books, maybe an overhead or digital projector, a fussball table and you can almost hear the excited chatter of people exchanging ideas, little kids running around, music, laughter, ...
And that's just one room bursting with potential. Just imagine what the Ark could become!

Why we love visiting French...

I grew up a few hours from the German-French border.
The German-French relationship is interesting in the least, a bit of a love-hate relationship, full of stereotypes, tightly connected through their history - a weighty past full of conflict. The O'Leary-Ladies-France relationship is one of fun times and entertainment...
I believe O'Leary-lady outings in France took their epic beginning while my sister was living near Bordeaux and my Mom and I drove down to see her. We whizzed through the roads of the Dordogne Valley, climbed large dunes, sat in cafes, explored little alleyways, were terrified by the French driving (and how quickly sister had transformed from a formerly timid driver into a crazy French one) and - were highly entertained.
This time we ventured into the Elsass - a place known for quiche, wine, storks, amazing views of the Vogueses, old churches, little towns full of alleys, cafes and tea houses, oh and funky signs.
I think that's part of why we are so entertained. Even though both my sister and I speak a bit of French and know what the signs actually mean, it sometimes is far more entertaining to read into them using our German and English...
Take for example the "Rue de Tetes" - the street of heads. Seriously, this is a country known for guillotines, how can you not imagine where that name came from. Suppose from a time when heads were literally rolling through streets? I'll leave it at that. Of course, once we started joking about that we saw odd heads everywhere... everywhere.
Oh the French. And the O'Learys. What a wonderful mix.