Jeffronym (jeff-row-nim): An acronym for an activity/relationship that partially defines Jeff Cutler's life.
Why Jeffronyms? My sister lovingly complained earlier this week that she "had no idea what all of the "x"s mean in Jeff's Facebook updates." SXSW @ NOMX3? What DOES that mean? So I'm here to help you understand these acronyms so you can interpret and appreciate Jeff's life as I do. Have a Jeffronym not yet addressed here? Put it in the comments and we'll try to answer, or feel free to add your own Jeffronym here.
BMM (bee emm emm): BMM stands for Boston Media Makers, which is a monthly gathering of "media makers" (e.g. bloggers, video bloggers, twitters, etc.) for networking and professional horn tooting. They gather over breakfast at Boston's (in)famous Doyle's Cafe.
iRoadtrip (eye road trip): This was a road trip Jeff took with a group of four other social media gurus last year. They drove from Detroit, MI to Austin, TX (see SXSW below) in some sort of fancy Ford provided by, well, Ford Motor Company. Along the way they visited companies, like my beloved Zappos.com, that are doing interesting and innovative things with social media to reach out to their customers. This was a
NOMX3 (Nahm ex 3): Jeff's TV show he co-hosts with @mikelangford. NOMX3= nom x 3 or nom nom nom. Nom is geek speak for yummy. The TV show is like a talk show for guys, and involves eating lunch, thus the yummy yummy yummy or NOMX3.
RT (retweet): This Jeffronym is popping up on Facebook. It is actually Twitter speak for repeating something someone else has said on Twitter. People retweet if they read something particularly witty, smart or compelling. RT is also used for political reasons - to show your support for someone else's great work or to be noticed by someone you admire professionally or personally. While Jeff is an excellent writer he is humble and/or smart enough to pass along cool info he finds on Twitter.
SPJ (ess pee jay): Society of Professional Journalists, the professional organization of journalists. Jeff is the official social media trainer for SPJ, and he is flying all over the US delivering training for news organizations and journalists on the use of tools like Facebook to research stories, find sources, and deliver content.
SXSW (south by southwest): The annual social/new media conference Jeff attends in Austin, TX. It is sometimes called South By.
TTWA (things to worry about): Jeff's blog in which he inspires readers to be afraid of the things he is most afraid of.
WWJCE (double you, double you, jay cee, ee): What Would Jeff Cutler Eat, the picture blog that details on a meal-by-meal or snack-by-snack basis what Jeff has been ingesting. Want to know how many Twinkies one person could possibly eat in a single day? WWJCE can tell you. How much cheese can one man eat between lunch and dinner? WWJCE has the answers.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Zombie Squirrels
"You know how the squirrels have been taking the top off the bird feeder at home?" This is the question Jeff asks me during our drive-home check-in. "Well, there is one less squirrel in the neighborhood to steal our bird's tasty treats, because I hit a squirrel today while driving to work." "WHAT!?" I shrieked while sitting in traffic on 93 South, "Did you stop to help it?"
"Well, I would have stopped to check on the squirrel if I hadn't hit it with both wheels AND if the two cars behind me hadn't hit it also."
"You killed another creature today! How can you stand it!?"
"Well, I wasn't happy about it when it happened, but it was only a squirrel."
I continued to moan into the phone, bereft with grief over the loss of the rodent life. "When I'm not overwhelmed with worry about becoming homeless or losing my hair I worry about hitting and killing small animals. I can't even drive over the flattest deadest roadkill without feeling like I'm crushing the animal's soul."
"If you are that concerned," Jeff nonchalantly replied, "why don't you check on the squirrel when you get home. I'm pretty sure you'll be able to see it in the road. And, if it is there can you go home and get the shovel..."
I interrupted. "I'm not going to check for the dead squirrel and I may not even go home tonight. Because I'm pretty sure there is a zombie squirrel waiting on our porch to kill me."
Monday, February 8, 2010
No Cat Disease
Childless by choice I often find myself having awkward conversations about babies with random strangers. In these conversations I give various explanations as to why Jeff and I choose not to have kids. "We love to travel and know we wouldn't have the money or the flexibility to travel the way we like to if we had kids," and "I give so much to children at work that I know there wouldn't be anything left over for my own children," are two of the more inane excuses. "I know parenting is a lot of work and I just don't have it in me," "We're both pretty selfish and would have a hard time with parenting," and "I've never had that burning desire to be a mom that drives so many women I know" are among the more honest and crass answers to the question, "Oh, you don't have kids? Why not?"
I was shopping for baby clothes for several friends who are in some state of pregnancy or new parenting the other day. A kindly older woman was ringing me out and making idle conversation about the pieces I had purchased. Inevitably she asked me if I had any kids. "No I replied. My partner has a chronic illness and he has decided NOT to take a risk and pass it on to any children." (This is a GREAT excuse to use if I want to abruptly end a conversation.) I continued with the sales clerk, "So we have the joy of visiting with other people's babies, and then going home together to be with our cats."
"Cats?" she said skeptically, "You have cats?" I felt a rush of judgment coming on. The clerk continued, "I've never met anyone who had a chronic illness who could also have a cat."
Dumbfounded I cocked my head at her and mentally began cataloguing all of the chronic diseases I knew of that didn't involve breathing - cerebral palsy, multiple sclerosis, rheumatoid arthritis, Huntington's Disease, Addison's Disease, Crohn's Disease, Colitis, any number of heart ailments. The list could go on. Then I looked back at the clerk, politely accepted the bag of gifts I had just purchased and walked out of the store without saying another word.
I was shopping for baby clothes for several friends who are in some state of pregnancy or new parenting the other day. A kindly older woman was ringing me out and making idle conversation about the pieces I had purchased. Inevitably she asked me if I had any kids. "No I replied. My partner has a chronic illness and he has decided NOT to take a risk and pass it on to any children." (This is a GREAT excuse to use if I want to abruptly end a conversation.) I continued with the sales clerk, "So we have the joy of visiting with other people's babies, and then going home together to be with our cats."
"Cats?" she said skeptically, "You have cats?" I felt a rush of judgment coming on. The clerk continued, "I've never met anyone who had a chronic illness who could also have a cat."
Dumbfounded I cocked my head at her and mentally began cataloguing all of the chronic diseases I knew of that didn't involve breathing - cerebral palsy, multiple sclerosis, rheumatoid arthritis, Huntington's Disease, Addison's Disease, Crohn's Disease, Colitis, any number of heart ailments. The list could go on. Then I looked back at the clerk, politely accepted the bag of gifts I had just purchased and walked out of the store without saying another word.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Accepting our bodies
One of the great things about living with someone with a chronic illness is that there is no stone throwing when it comes to one's physical imperfections. I don't worry about Jeff eyeing my occasional, and nearly predictable, weight gain with suspicion. And I hope Jeff doesn't worry about any judgments that may briefly pass through my consciousness about the failings of his organs or his weight or the cowlicks on the back of his head.
Let the record show we both carry our own internal diatribes about our bodies - the focus may be our weight, digestion, or wrinkles. Or maybe we worry about heart and lung capacity, muscle strength and grey hair. Our internal complaints certainly seep into our shared life, occasionally poisoning our physical closeness or our ability to create spontaneous fun. And we deal with this when it happens. The good news, however, is that we don't exacerbate the physical anxieties of the other with snarky comments, snide observations, or non-verbal judgments.
This is one of the many reasons this relationship is peaceful and comforting to me.
Let the record show we both carry our own internal diatribes about our bodies - the focus may be our weight, digestion, or wrinkles. Or maybe we worry about heart and lung capacity, muscle strength and grey hair. Our internal complaints certainly seep into our shared life, occasionally poisoning our physical closeness or our ability to create spontaneous fun. And we deal with this when it happens. The good news, however, is that we don't exacerbate the physical anxieties of the other with snarky comments, snide observations, or non-verbal judgments.
This is one of the many reasons this relationship is peaceful and comforting to me.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
A fight to end all fights
Not really, but we did have a hearty discussion last night about many things. You'd think that after going out for 3.5 years we'd know everything about each other. Not so.
But what's the result? Have I been sent packing with the good cat and my one shirt? Hardly.
From time to time a 'discussion' can help people grow a little closer and prove that adult communication isn't just pillow talk, chat over finances or mature discussion over why Scott Brown is better than Martyr Coakley.
No, talk can be loud (some might call it shouting) and irrational and angry. Because when that talk is done, the sorting out of feelings and thoughts gives you better insight into who you're with.
I think we both emerged from last night's discussion in better shape. And still in love.
But what's the result? Have I been sent packing with the good cat and my one shirt? Hardly.
From time to time a 'discussion' can help people grow a little closer and prove that adult communication isn't just pillow talk, chat over finances or mature discussion over why Scott Brown is better than Martyr Coakley.
No, talk can be loud (some might call it shouting) and irrational and angry. Because when that talk is done, the sorting out of feelings and thoughts gives you better insight into who you're with.
I think we both emerged from last night's discussion in better shape. And still in love.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
"You are your father's son,"
is what I told Brisket the kitten today. Many people may know that Jeff has some pack rat tendencies. And so does our kitten Brisket. How do I know? Read on.
I was in the chilly bedroom I share with Jeff, changing into my pjs before Top Chef started, when I noticed a dried oak leaf on the bed. This was clearly a plaything abandoned by one of the kittens following a supervised romp out of doors. Ever the efficient cat mom I picked up the leaf, walked around the bed to the wastebasket, and dropped the leaf in.
Alerted by the sound of his crinkling leaf, hoping perhaps that someone might want to play, Brisket darted into the bedroom and hopped onto the platform bed. And he immediately noticed that the leaf, which he apparently was storing on the brightly colored coverlet, was missing. He looked at me quizzically. "I'm sorry honey, but leaves don't live on beds," I told him as I turned my back to finish changing into the sleeping outfit.
Then I heard a crinkling sound and the distinctive sound of the tiny plastic barrel being tipped. I turned toward the sound and saw Brisket with his head in the garbage can, rummaging about. He grabbed the leaf and put it in a new storage place, on the floor in front of Jeff's bureau. Satisfied that he had saved the leaf cum toy from certain death in a landfill, he walked past me and out of the room.
I was in the chilly bedroom I share with Jeff, changing into my pjs before Top Chef started, when I noticed a dried oak leaf on the bed. This was clearly a plaything abandoned by one of the kittens following a supervised romp out of doors. Ever the efficient cat mom I picked up the leaf, walked around the bed to the wastebasket, and dropped the leaf in.
Alerted by the sound of his crinkling leaf, hoping perhaps that someone might want to play, Brisket darted into the bedroom and hopped onto the platform bed. And he immediately noticed that the leaf, which he apparently was storing on the brightly colored coverlet, was missing. He looked at me quizzically. "I'm sorry honey, but leaves don't live on beds," I told him as I turned my back to finish changing into the sleeping outfit.
Then I heard a crinkling sound and the distinctive sound of the tiny plastic barrel being tipped. I turned toward the sound and saw Brisket with his head in the garbage can, rummaging about. He grabbed the leaf and put it in a new storage place, on the floor in front of Jeff's bureau. Satisfied that he had saved the leaf cum toy from certain death in a landfill, he walked past me and out of the room.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Vacation: Days 1-5
Day One
Leave Boston at 6:40 PM on 9/19, arrive at Charles DeGaulle Airport in Paris at 8:00ish on 9/20. Drive to Reims (in Champagne). See a cathedral, eat petite dejeuner (that's breakfast to the rest of us), and realize we both don't like champagne all that much and we move on. Drive, drive and drive through vineyards and industrial farm country. Not so much in Champagne. (Expensive gas, - $1.30 euro a liter - which is the equivalent of $7.70 a gallon in the U.S.) Gretchen sleeps. We must have enjoyed lunch, but no recollection of ANYTHING on vacation day one. Arrive in Strasbourg without a map or a hotel. Nice work. Wandering. Lost. Hungry. Overstimulated by the beauty. With the help of a very nice woman in an overbooked hotel we find a great room at Au Cerf de Or (The Stag of Gold). Eat sausage and gherkins and drink beer for dinner. At an "Irish" pub. Really. Learn that the Wifi at the hotel is iffy at best. Good enough to call our moms and tell them we made it.
Day Two
Sleep late. Too late for petite dejeuner (oh coffee, where are you?) and we wander into Petite France for Tyrolean beauty. Follow the natives to the ONE bakery open on a Sunday for sandwiches with pickles and eggs and salami, which we eat in Kleber Place (or Square). Take walking tour of Strasbourg that includes a church that is half Catholic and half Protestant. Tour also includes navigational arguments. Becoming one of our specialties. See a cathedral with an astronomical clock, visit an archeological and a home arts museum (FREE!), write postcards, drink some beer, eat eis (German) or glace (French) or ice cream (English). Eat dinner at a tourist joint in Gutenberg Place where Jeff discovers the joy of tarte flambee, which is a pizza with cream sauce, meunster cheese and bits of ham.
Day Three:
Wake up early to get outta Dodge, petite dejeuner is croissant and juice for Jeff, pain a beurre (bread with butter and jam) for Gretchen. And of course, coffee. Drive 60 minutes to a fully restored medieval castle in a beautiful quiet village. Castle is SPECTACULAR fun and inspiring; we think about visiting Montagne Singes (Monkey Mountain) just down the hill from the castle, and decide it probably isn't authentic so we continue on to Colmar (France) for lunch in the "picturesque" village which is also overrun with tourists and not all that and a bag of chips. Eat another tart flambee (Jeff) and enjoy a slice of the local specialty, quiche Lorraine (Gretchen). Flit through the Monoprix, eat candy, drink beer. Drive some more into Germany, and settle in the dorm-like BluHotel in Freiburg for the night. Jeff is GROUCHY because the free wifi (pronounced 'wee-fee') at the BluHotel is utterly useless. Drive into Freiburg center where there is a lot of shopping, tons of kids and some history which might have been interesting if we had known what we were seeing. Drink MORE beer, eat soup (Gretchen) and a sandwich (Jeff) at a student bar. Then, off to Burger King for free internet (gotta get our fix, and a room for the next night). Oh yeah, a double cheeseburger, fries and a Coke.
Day Four:
Wake up in time for our 8:30 breakfast appointment at BluHotel. TERRIBLE coffee, cold cuts and vending machine croissants. Cranky for kaffee (Gretchen) and sausage (Jeff). Drive into the Black Forest. Photograph vineyards and apple orchards, cows. Visit Burge Rollend, an unrestored medieval fortress on a small mountain which is AWESOME to see, especially after having seen a restored medieval castle the day before. Pay 1.5 euro for what we think is admission to the castle, only to learn it is admission to the museum, which is no bigger than our tiny bungalow, all in German and useless to us. Stop on Bad Sackingen (one of the many spa towns in the region with natural hot springs) and walk to Switzerland over a 400 year-old foot bridge and eat lunch (Bratwurst for Gretchen, and Bratwurst and a cheeseburger for Jeff). Landscape is beautiful. Continue driving to Lake Bodensee and the city of Konstanz. Sad because we can't enjoy Konstanz because we are HOPELESSLY lost and screaming at each other. (Jeff: "Which way do I go here?!" Gretchen: "I don't know! The sign says 'Meersburg or Schweiz.' I KNOW we don't want to go to Meersburg and I CAN'T FIND SCHWEIZ on the map! Where the heck is SCHWEIZ?!!???") A kindly woman explains using only hand gestures that Schweiz means the COUNTRY of Switzerland and we have to drive through it to get to our next destination. Which, we learn, is actually in Austria. That's three countries in one day, ka-ching. After a slow slog through Switzerland (Jeff was righteously afraid of a speeding ticket), we arrive in Bergenz, Austria and are directed to our hotel by a group of schoolboys who escort us part way on their bikes. When the boys leave us to continue without them we get lost again. A policeman gives us directions. And we get lost again. Finally a Croatian man who has been in Bergenz three hours more than we have been walks us to our hotel. Gretchen cries. Jeff has a beer. And then Jeff cries because WiFi sucks here too. Have...beer and a sandwich at Cafe Wunderbar around the corner. Sit outside wrapped in the fleece throws they offer to motivate their guests to sit outside. Cozy.
Day Five:
Hotel Central in Bergenz is great. Breakfast is weird. Again, cold cuts, and cold bread with our choice of processed cheese, pate', or jam/nutella spreads. And yogurt and canned fruit. WTF. Kaffee is great. Directed to a laundromat which turned out to be a dry cleaner. Barely speak German, don't speak a word of Austrian, and Gretchen's confused brain - five countries in four days - is lapsing into Spanish with some Italian thrown in. Motor out of town back into Germany and on to the little town of Fussen to visit Neuschwanstein Castle, one of four castles commissioned by King Ludwig II of the Bavaria during his 23 year reign. Castles bankrupted the country and are now bankrupting tourists with their commercialization. Nevertheless the castle and its neighboring Hochenschwangau Castle are breathtaking and we have a hearty walk up the mountain to the courtyard chute where we wait for our turn to go inside. Lunch at a deli and then another beer while we plot our next move to the town of St. Heinrich (population 170 - really) where we stay at the wonderful lakeside Landgasthof Schontag (Hotel Nice Day) and drink more beer and eat at the Lone Star Steakhouse and Saloon. (The hotel owners lived in Houston for five years and wanted to bring Texas and country music to Germany. Gretchen Kinder, Jeff's traveling companion of German ethnicity originally from Texas is tickled pink.) Church bells go off every 15 minutes, pealing through the open skylight in the bathroom.
Tomorrow we head to Munich to start the Oktoberfest leg of the trip. So far we've learned:
The "fly by the seat of your pants" vacation doesn't work for us so much.
The "visit pretty towns in Europe and go shopping in stores you have in America" also doesn't work for us so much.
People can be really nice if you are nice first.
Gretchen can't eat as much crappy food as she would like.
Jeff's tolerance for copious amounts of alcohol isn't as high as he would like.
Internet hotel reviews are hit or miss.
The Alps are gorgeous and we are both glad we didn't have to scale them on foot to flee the Nazis.
If we had even 1% of all the money in America we wouldn't be able to spend it, not even on our dream castle.
Spaetzl IS a noodle. Schnitzel IS NOT a noodle.
Leave Boston at 6:40 PM on 9/19, arrive at Charles DeGaulle Airport in Paris at 8:00ish on 9/20. Drive to Reims (in Champagne). See a cathedral, eat petite dejeuner (that's breakfast to the rest of us), and realize we both don't like champagne all that much and we move on. Drive, drive and drive through vineyards and industrial farm country. Not so much in Champagne. (Expensive gas, - $1.30 euro a liter - which is the equivalent of $7.70 a gallon in the U.S.) Gretchen sleeps. We must have enjoyed lunch, but no recollection of ANYTHING on vacation day one. Arrive in Strasbourg without a map or a hotel. Nice work. Wandering. Lost. Hungry. Overstimulated by the beauty. With the help of a very nice woman in an overbooked hotel we find a great room at Au Cerf de Or (The Stag of Gold). Eat sausage and gherkins and drink beer for dinner. At an "Irish" pub. Really. Learn that the Wifi at the hotel is iffy at best. Good enough to call our moms and tell them we made it.
Day Two
Sleep late. Too late for petite dejeuner (oh coffee, where are you?) and we wander into Petite France for Tyrolean beauty. Follow the natives to the ONE bakery open on a Sunday for sandwiches with pickles and eggs and salami, which we eat in Kleber Place (or Square). Take walking tour of Strasbourg that includes a church that is half Catholic and half Protestant. Tour also includes navigational arguments. Becoming one of our specialties. See a cathedral with an astronomical clock, visit an archeological and a home arts museum (FREE!), write postcards, drink some beer, eat eis (German) or glace (French) or ice cream (English). Eat dinner at a tourist joint in Gutenberg Place where Jeff discovers the joy of tarte flambee, which is a pizza with cream sauce, meunster cheese and bits of ham.
Day Three:
Wake up early to get outta Dodge, petite dejeuner is croissant and juice for Jeff, pain a beurre (bread with butter and jam) for Gretchen. And of course, coffee. Drive 60 minutes to a fully restored medieval castle in a beautiful quiet village. Castle is SPECTACULAR fun and inspiring; we think about visiting Montagne Singes (Monkey Mountain) just down the hill from the castle, and decide it probably isn't authentic so we continue on to Colmar (France) for lunch in the "picturesque" village which is also overrun with tourists and not all that and a bag of chips. Eat another tart flambee (Jeff) and enjoy a slice of the local specialty, quiche Lorraine (Gretchen). Flit through the Monoprix, eat candy, drink beer. Drive some more into Germany, and settle in the dorm-like BluHotel in Freiburg for the night. Jeff is GROUCHY because the free wifi (pronounced 'wee-fee') at the BluHotel is utterly useless. Drive into Freiburg center where there is a lot of shopping, tons of kids and some history which might have been interesting if we had known what we were seeing. Drink MORE beer, eat soup (Gretchen) and a sandwich (Jeff) at a student bar. Then, off to Burger King for free internet (gotta get our fix, and a room for the next night). Oh yeah, a double cheeseburger, fries and a Coke.
Day Four:
Wake up in time for our 8:30 breakfast appointment at BluHotel. TERRIBLE coffee, cold cuts and vending machine croissants. Cranky for kaffee (Gretchen) and sausage (Jeff). Drive into the Black Forest. Photograph vineyards and apple orchards, cows. Visit Burge Rollend, an unrestored medieval fortress on a small mountain which is AWESOME to see, especially after having seen a restored medieval castle the day before. Pay 1.5 euro for what we think is admission to the castle, only to learn it is admission to the museum, which is no bigger than our tiny bungalow, all in German and useless to us. Stop on Bad Sackingen (one of the many spa towns in the region with natural hot springs) and walk to Switzerland over a 400 year-old foot bridge and eat lunch (Bratwurst for Gretchen, and Bratwurst and a cheeseburger for Jeff). Landscape is beautiful. Continue driving to Lake Bodensee and the city of Konstanz. Sad because we can't enjoy Konstanz because we are HOPELESSLY lost and screaming at each other. (Jeff: "Which way do I go here?!" Gretchen: "I don't know! The sign says 'Meersburg or Schweiz.' I KNOW we don't want to go to Meersburg and I CAN'T FIND SCHWEIZ on the map! Where the heck is SCHWEIZ?!!???") A kindly woman explains using only hand gestures that Schweiz means the COUNTRY of Switzerland and we have to drive through it to get to our next destination. Which, we learn, is actually in Austria. That's three countries in one day, ka-ching. After a slow slog through Switzerland (Jeff was righteously afraid of a speeding ticket), we arrive in Bergenz, Austria and are directed to our hotel by a group of schoolboys who escort us part way on their bikes. When the boys leave us to continue without them we get lost again. A policeman gives us directions. And we get lost again. Finally a Croatian man who has been in Bergenz three hours more than we have been walks us to our hotel. Gretchen cries. Jeff has a beer. And then Jeff cries because WiFi sucks here too. Have...beer and a sandwich at Cafe Wunderbar around the corner. Sit outside wrapped in the fleece throws they offer to motivate their guests to sit outside. Cozy.
Day Five:
Hotel Central in Bergenz is great. Breakfast is weird. Again, cold cuts, and cold bread with our choice of processed cheese, pate', or jam/nutella spreads. And yogurt and canned fruit. WTF. Kaffee is great. Directed to a laundromat which turned out to be a dry cleaner. Barely speak German, don't speak a word of Austrian, and Gretchen's confused brain - five countries in four days - is lapsing into Spanish with some Italian thrown in. Motor out of town back into Germany and on to the little town of Fussen to visit Neuschwanstein Castle, one of four castles commissioned by King Ludwig II of the Bavaria during his 23 year reign. Castles bankrupted the country and are now bankrupting tourists with their commercialization. Nevertheless the castle and its neighboring Hochenschwangau Castle are breathtaking and we have a hearty walk up the mountain to the courtyard chute where we wait for our turn to go inside. Lunch at a deli and then another beer while we plot our next move to the town of St. Heinrich (population 170 - really) where we stay at the wonderful lakeside Landgasthof Schontag (Hotel Nice Day) and drink more beer and eat at the Lone Star Steakhouse and Saloon. (The hotel owners lived in Houston for five years and wanted to bring Texas and country music to Germany. Gretchen Kinder, Jeff's traveling companion of German ethnicity originally from Texas is tickled pink.) Church bells go off every 15 minutes, pealing through the open skylight in the bathroom.
Tomorrow we head to Munich to start the Oktoberfest leg of the trip. So far we've learned:
The "fly by the seat of your pants" vacation doesn't work for us so much.
The "visit pretty towns in Europe and go shopping in stores you have in America" also doesn't work for us so much.
People can be really nice if you are nice first.
Gretchen can't eat as much crappy food as she would like.
Jeff's tolerance for copious amounts of alcohol isn't as high as he would like.
Internet hotel reviews are hit or miss.
The Alps are gorgeous and we are both glad we didn't have to scale them on foot to flee the Nazis.
If we had even 1% of all the money in America we wouldn't be able to spend it, not even on our dream castle.
Spaetzl IS a noodle. Schnitzel IS NOT a noodle.
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