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What an odd sense of time writing these updates gives me. It doesn't feel like much is happening, but when I look at the last update and realize that it's been maybe three weeks since the last time I did this, I start to think about what I should add to keep friends and family updated. Then I realize how much has really gone on, and how much I have to write to tell you about it, and it makes my life seem all the richer for recording it. Strange, this online diary.

Christmas was great. You may have read that we spent Christmas Eve with the kids in Klaus, Andrea Rushlow but Christmas didn't stop there! The next evening, Christmas, we all gathered at the Weider's for Christmas dinner and "Kinder Chaos Part II." Andrea's mom is a terrific cook, so dinner was spectacular. We lit the candles on the tree and sang songs while Walter played on his new harmonica, then we opened gifts, drank home-made "egg liquor" (which tastes like eggnog, only about 40% alcohol. It is considered a woman's version of Walter and Linde Weider schnapps), and generally had a fine time. Everybody gathered at our house on the 26th. We were all running out of presents to open, so the chaos was not so total. Andrea cooked a traditional American dinner with turkey, mashed potatoes, corn, beans ...you know the routine. The place looked great, with our little Christmas tree in the corner and Andrea's carefully made decorations everywhere. We'll get photos back soon, and we'll put them on the web. Our first Austrian Tree The next night, our friends the Nartz' joined us for dinner. Turkey breasts cooked in a sort of thick onion soup. Fabulous. We had a super-enjoyable evening with them; mostly, the good Doctor and I talked stocks. If you are thinking we had an awful lot of leftover turkey to polish off, you would be 100% correct.

We've been skiing maybe two-three times a week. Once on Sunday and once or twice more whenever the weather looks especially inviting. We have been trying out new mountains, which is really a ball. Yesterday, for example, we skied at Warth. It may be my favorite mountain of all: sunny, steep, great lifts, unbelievable scenery, excellent restaurants, uncrowded. Even driving there was a treat. We wound our way through roadways carved out of snow much Andrea and her mother, Linde higher than the car. It is an odd effect, like driving in a snow tunnel. But the snow was perfect and the sun felt good on this cold, clear day. I had one of my best "near-falls" ever, twisting and turning, skidding in circles and finally coming to rest in an upright position. That'll teach me to get to casual about steep runs. We've also skied our old favorites at Schoppenau, Mellau, Dornbirn, and the little spot we found last summer where the paragliders hang out.

We weren't always idle, though. Much time and many late nights were spent on our great internet translation clients, Rheintalflug and GIKO. We got them up and running with no particular problems. We are hopeful that Rheintalflug will reward us with "employee" status, at least with regard to flying whatever airline we choose anywhere we choose to fly it.

Last week was taxes. What a difference the Internet makes! I downloaded TaxCut, my favorite tax program and worked through the questions as best as I could. I did come to a rather complex "stopper" though, and had a lot of trouble trying to sort through the available date to find a reasonable answer. I finally emailed the IRS last Friday evening. By noon (local time) the next day, I had a well-written, thorough answer from the IRS. I was impressed.

Andrea and I worried our way through last week, when my dad was scheduled for a CEA. (This is the procedure used to clear the carotid artery of plaque.) It was a tough operation, I am told, because they found about 98% blockage. Everything turned out fine, though, and we were very relieved to get the "all clear" phone call from Mom (and Dad!) about 2:00 a.m. their time Friday morning.

Hans and Gitti are getting married! Figured it was about time after ten years and two Linde, Lee Rushlow, Andrea Rushlow, Walter kids, I suppose. Andrea is out with Gitti now hunting up a wedding dress, and we are looking forward to the big event on May 5th.

We are thinking of an extended trip back to the States maybe mid- to late-March. We won't give up this apartment, though. I think we'll just keep it. No, we are thinking of going back to either fix up and sell the Asheville house, or to fix up and continue to rent the Asheville house. We just are not sure, but a good friend has advised that "if the house doesn't thrill us anymore, take the money and invest it somewhere else." I think that is good advice, but whenever we are actually at the Asheville house, it rekindles our love affair with the mountains of North Carolina and with our house in particular. We'll see.

January 17, 2000

Last night was Christmas Eve. We drove with Andrea's Mom and Dad to Klaus, where Hans and Gitti live. During dinner, I told the story of Christmas at our family, and I realized as I was telling it that I needed to write it down. If you're not part of the immediate family, it might not interest you at all, but I have to write it down anyway.

When David and I were little boys, my mother and father--youngsters themselves--went to a lot of trouble to make Christmas special. They worked through the night on Christmas Eve to trim the tree and decorate the living room, placing every hard-earned present carefully here, where the light would make the fresh paint shine, and there, where the new truck might be pushed back and forth in relative safety.

David and I would awaken to a world of wonder, for to us all this stuff had magically appeared out of nowhere, no doubt the work of Santa Claus. I don't remember the Christmasses themselves, exactly--I was too young--but the photographs are filled with joy and love.

Later, when we were a little older, we would help with the decorating. Mom would bake fresh chocolate chip cookies that we could leave out for Santa, along with a glass of milk. Santa was pretty fond of chocolate chip cookies.

Mom always carried out her religeous responsibilities quite seriously. It would have been unthinkable not to attend mass on Christmas morning after we opened our presents. We were probably decked out in our new Robert Hall winter coats (which we would soon grow into) and new socks, underwear, and shirts, too.

But church was always an interruption in an otherwise magical day, so when we were old enough--six maybe?--we were allowed to go to midnight mass at St. Patricks. This was the special province of my grandfather, who seemed sort of in charge at night. He would place his gray fedora and carefully hang his coat on the racks provided at the "back" of the church, which was really the front entrance foyer, separated from the "real" church by thick oaken doors. This arrangement allowed people to gather out of the cold while waiting for the current mass to end, and kept the schuffling noises of people doffing hats and coats away from the quiet solemnity of the services inside.

Going to midnight mass with Grampa meant going to Grampa's house, of course. There we were greeted by a cheerful Scotch Pine at the front window whose job it was to preside over the many gifts arranged beneath its skirts. When we got back from church, it was officially Christmas, so we were allowed to select one gift to open before we were trundled off to bed. This soon gave way to selecting one gift to open before mass, which soon gave way to opening our gifts on Christmas Eve at Grandma and Grampa's house. Perfect. Soon, Grandma and Grampa Rushlow joined us for these Christmas Eve festivities, but the men seemed to drink from a different punchbowl of eggnog than we kids did, which may explain David's gift of fine cigars one year.

Now indeed was Christmas perfect for David and me. There were presents to open on Christmas Eve, and when we awoke early on Christmas morning, new presents to open from Mom and Dad.

But we weren't through yet, for we still had my father's mom and dad to consider. They lived a tiny bit further away, maybe three or four miles, and we would all gather there on Christmas afternoon for one of Grandma's incredible meals. Roast beef (tender as warm butter), mountains of mashed potatoes running with rich gravy, corn, fresh rolls, and other hearty fare paled before her life's calling: apple pie. Never in this world have such pies been made, nor will they ever again. And then! we opened more presents in front of the squat little table-borne trees Grampa always selected. We could all laugh at Grampa's wrapping--for him to use only one piece of large-enough paper was unthinkable-- and Gradma's inability to remove all the price tags. I cannot recollect a cross word or an unpleasant moment from these wonderful Christmasses.

Of course, "family" meant something different to David and me as youngsters. I can't really speak for David, but to me there was no distinction between my father's parents and my mother's parents. It seemed perfectly natural to me that they were somehow related, and as close to each other as we were to everyone. Certainly my mother never favored her parents over my dad's parents, nor did my father ever favor his parents over Mom's. The only mystery to me was in the names: Why did Grampa Rushlow call Grampa Miller "Bob?" Why did Grampa Miller call Grampa Rushlow "Leo?" Didn't they have "family" names for each other? The rest of us did. I was "son" and Dad was "Dad" and "Grampa" was "Grampa." To this day, only I can call David "Dave." These were names never shared with strangers. Why was it, then, that the elder Rushlows and Millers had to resort to common "unfamily" names when addressing each other? It was the only visible seam in an otherwise seamless family.

And so now when we are together, we open our gifts to each other on Christmas Eve, trying desparately to match the cornucopia of love and generosity we felt as children with a cascade of gifts to try to say "thank you" for all the Christmasses of our youth.

But I've already had my best presents, thank you. Trains and tricycles, pedal-cars and purple Robert Hall cufflinks that came with the shirt. I would love to somehow be able to give gifts that simply say "I love you" with that message shining loud and clear through the wrappings.

So here's my little Christmas card, Mom and Dad and David. Posted right here on the Internet for all the world to see. Despite all the rambling, it really only says "I love you and I miss you."

We hope you have a wonderful Christmas.

Christmas Day, 1999

This has been a wonderful week for us.

We chose not to ski last Sunday because it was cloudy and snowing very hard. Instead, we enjoyed a cozy day at home fussing around with this and that and generally getting ready for the holidays. I was particularly happy about our Internet access, for I had some questions about income tax filing requirements for citizens living outside the U.S. and more questions about tax laws relating to short- and long-term capital gains. The IRS website was particularly helpful, and I could download all the 1999 forms and instructions I needed. Once I had my questions answered, I could do my year-end tax planning, buying and selling as necessary. I placed my orders with online brokers and waited for Monday to check their execution. Imagine! This is easier to do now in Austria than it was two years ago living in the States!

Don't think it was all work and no play, though. After another day of snow on Monday, Tuesday dawned clear and blue. We jumped in the Beemer Andrea Rushlow and skied at a nearby mountain, which we practically had to ourselves. What a joy! Every branch was piled high with powdery snow and the sun was bright and cheerful. The snow squeaked under our skis and it felt fine to pull down our hats to warm our ears against the chill.

We returned to a pleasant email and telephone conversation with one of our clients. They want to give us a lot more work on an ongoing basis. We are thrilled. We are told that we may be treated as airline employees in the near future, enabling us to fly any airline anywhere at really super rates. Wow. First cabin to and from the States sounds mighty fine to us.

As usual, Christmas is rushing up on us way to fast. We just aren't ready for it yet. How about you? But our plans are in place for New Years, and we have reserved a taxicab to take us to and pick us up from the castle where we will dance the millenium away. I have stockpiled some very fine champagnes to help lubricate the process, even though many wines will be served high on the mountain.

Last night was the longest night of the year. It was very clear and very cold. The moon was coincidentally the biggest and brightest it has been for over 200 years. It is at its closest point to the Earth, and so appears a little larger, and the earth is at its closest point to the sun, making the moon appear that much brighter. We called Andrea's mom and dad and went for a walk on the shores of the Bodensee. Jupiter's moons were easily visible using binoculars in the bright, clear air despite the painfully bright moon. We walked down deserted pathways to a restaurant we know well with a cheery fireplace and drank some schnaps and hot spiced wine to warm and fortify us for the walk home.

We probably won't update this page until after Christmas, so please let us take this opportunity to wish you a warm and merry holiday.

Merry Christmas!

12/22/99

"It is snowing!" Maybe that will become a sort of standard opening for this update. At least, I hope it will. You can see pictures on our "Austria" page.

The skiing has been great, with lots of dry, powdery snow. Andrea and I bought season passes last week, which really makes us feel like native Austrians. (I suppose it is considerably easier for Andrea to feel like a native Austrian, her being a native Austrian and all.) The last time we enjoyed such luxury was the year we met in Aspen. I skied 100 days that winter, which was the standard all the Aspenites shot for.

There is a squeaky quality to such snow, and skiing on it makes you feel like you are skiing on butter or silk. When you get in the groove, it is almost effortless. I inherited my father-in-law's four year-old skis when he bought new carving skis this year. Four years old or not, they are perfect for me. We had them tuned and adjusted the bindings, so they should be good for the winter.

Today St. Nikolas visits the little children, usually bringing oranges and candies. He has an assistant here, Knecht Ruprecht, who is a representation of the devil. Ruprecht accompanies St. Nikolas and carries a sack with which to imprison children who have not been good. St. Nikolas is no jolly elf, either, but a serious looking gent dressed in a tall pointed hat and flowing robes. The children are expected to prepare poems for those who visit them today. We will drive to Klaus to see Melanie and Fabian, and maybe hear Melanie's poem.

Last week we attended a fine performance by the Voralrberg Symphonic Orchestra. It opened with Richard Wagner's Die Meistersinger von N�rnberg, followed by Robert Schumann's Konzertst�ck f�r vier H�rner und Orchester F-Dur op.86 , which features four French horns, one of my favorite symphonic instruments. The program concluded with Johannes Brahms' Symphonie Nr. 2 D-Dur op.73, which was performed flawlessly. I love the complexity of Brahms, and once read an essay by Hofstatler in Metamagical Themas in which he uses the complexity of Brahms' variations to explain the phenomenon of life itself.

We are having fun with our little translating business, Netmeister. This week we landed a nice little airline that is pretty well known throughout central Europe: Rheintalflug GmbH. We begin work on their website this Thursday.

I feel like a sport in my new Austrian-style clothes. I bought a new topcoat, too, which for some reason makes me feel more like a native. That's probably because topcoats are so big and bulky that you wouldn't pack one (unless you were wearing it for a business trip) instead of a good snow jacket. With a ski pass and a topcoat, all I need now is a dog and a German accent. "But many Austrians do not have dogs," my father-in-law complains. "True," I say, "but no American tourists have dogs either!"

The exchange rate is super; it is at least 30% better now than when we were married. The Euro is trading at all-time lows, which makes our greenbacks all the more valuable.

Enough for now. We are getting dressed for skiing and hope the snow lets up enough to let us see.

Happy Holidays!

12/5/99

It is snowing! Not just a little snow, but by the bucket. Even in a country noted for great snow, the snow-removal equipment can't keep up.

It is really quite beautiful. There has been no wind, so every little branch and wire sports several inches of precariously balanced snow. The river is especially delightful; we took some photos yesterday, which we will get on this site as soon as we get them developed.

We just can't keep up! Only a very few short weeks ago, people were sunning themselves and walking around in lederhosen. Now, the snow is at least thigh-deep.

We will probably go skiing today. The resorts opened last weekend.

Lee is still studying German, going to classes twice a week. Otherwise, he and Andrea have been very busy getting the words-r-us.com website squared away. T his is a nice little business! We find Austrian Internet sites that have no English version, we translate a sample page using their own HTML code, and we send them a diskette with the sample and a nice letter. The response has been encouraging, and we are having a ball doing this.

Last week we ate a traditional goose dinner--it was sort of like a Thanksgiving dinner with all the fixin's--at a restaurant tucked into a little cove on the Bodensee. A cheerful fireplace kept us warm. So did the wine, come to think of it.

This is Fasching, the central European equivalant of Carnival, a time of balls and performances and lots of silliness. Tonight we will attend a symphony at the Festspiele Haus. We really enjoy this sort of thing. We did remember to bring masks--and we'll use them, too!

Happy Holidays!

11/24/99

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