I see an acquaintance in the street, a person I’ve met once before. They and Anja have known each other in passing for decades. “Here’s Zinzy”, they say to their partner, “I met her at the thing.” The thing was a premiere for a documentary about a Dutch 70s solidarity movement of Jews who helped Soviet Jews escape a life of exclusion and discrimination. I had been at the thing with Anja and my delightful mother-in-law, who likes to recount the time she went to Russia to save the Jews from the Soviets. (Continue)

There’s a weekend-long dance workshop in town. While she’s certainly not our first house guest, the situation feels brand new. It must be the Japanese mattress we just bought, which turns our one-bedroom shoebox of an apartment into a temporary bed and breakfast (and lunch and dinner) for Anneli, the journalist from Sweden. I haven’t seen her in years. The most vibrant memory I have of her is ending a three-day stay at her welcoming, warm house, and saying to Anja: “I think I’m going to quit drinking”. (Continue)

After two weeks in Scandinavia, it’s clear: we are both too Dutch for proper recycling. Secretly hoarding our trash to avoid a reprimanding from our AirBnb host as he hovers over his six-compartment recycling bin, we continue our trip from rural Sweden to Copenhagen looking for a public recycling station. “Imagine if we got so nervous about doing it wrong that we ended up just dumping these bags by the roadside” I say to Anja. (Continue)

Today, Lemonade and I visited Studio Pansa Amstel, where Anja has spent the last seven Sundays learning how to work a ceramics wheel. It’s quite the adventure for her, and I love seeing her dive into a new field that’s so different from her day-to-day life and work. Their motto is “dirty hands, clear mind”, and that certainly seems to be the case for Anja. I saw dozens of gorgeous little cups in the making, each with a unique maker’s mark and the intricate details only found in things that were crafted by hands. (Continue)

Much like last year, I’m so excited for Mathilde to visit our house that I get a headache just thinking about it. We’ve known each other 23 years, and, by miracle, our friendship is both acclimatized to our adult lives and as full of energy and curiosity as it was when we met in our first year of secondary school. She comes bearing gifts: seeds for the garden, dyke poetry, David Sedaris. (Continue)

It snowed a few times this week and I was as baffled as I always am to see it happening in March. I don’t have a great understanding of what the weather’s supposed to do in a given period of the year. After two weeks of cocooning, we’ve finally been taking Lemonade out to various places. I aim to take her out at least once a day, usually to the park or a walk around the block. (Continue)

My attempt to lure both Anja and myself outside for some fresh air and a walk was thwarted as soon as I learned the place was out of my favorite bubble tea. We strolled to Flevopark, in my hand an ice cream cone, and on my face the disappointment of a toddler who can’t be satisfied. The park has a wide field that allows loose dogs to roam freely in the off-season. (Continue)