You Can't Put Lipstick on a Pig...Or Can You?

It was around this time last year that I came down with a fairly severe case of what is known in Germany as Frühjahresmudigkeit. While I would like to equate the lapse in time since my last instalment at Harlem Hausfrau to this dreaded ailment, I must be honest to both myself and the wonderfully patient readers of this blog that it has in fact been a case of “meinen innerern Schweinehund(“my internal pig(schwein) dog(hund)”)  simply rearing its ugly head.

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Peering out into the 6 a.m. morning darkness, I registered with a shudder that the thermostat read a crisp -1 C (29 F.) Groaning, I quickly piled on my winter wear, preparing for the frosty, morning walk with our dog Rosa.  In rounding the corner of our building, I was immediately struck by the large, ground floor picture window of our new neighbor’s standing fully ajar.

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Honesty is the Best Policy?

“Oh look, you have gained weight,” MILO exclaimed. 

“Excuuuuseeee me?” I gasped in horror, as my eyes narrowed on my mother-in-law. 

Now one would think that based on the extreme altering of my facial features that MILO would have recognized this was not a ‘Harlem Hausfrau-friendly’ topic of conversation and it was time to change the subject at hand – fast.  MILO appeared not to read me on this – or did she?

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Punctuality is the Politeness of Kings (King Louis XVII of France)

The Scene: Our apartment 4 or so years ago…

“Who in the world is ringing the bell?” I whispered, eyeing the door suspiciously.

“Our guests,” said V.

“Wait…who? Our guests? Are you sure?!”

“Yes I am sure.”

“What in the world are they doing here so early?” 

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