Oh, let's not beat around the bush. I know you all have seen the pic in your blogger reader or preview screen, so here goes...yes, I am wearing a dirndl.
It gets better. I own THREE dirndls. As some of you may know or remember from the past posts, I spent a lot of my youth in Germany. My mother and her family are actually German (my Omi, or grandmother, was born and raised in Berlin, DURING World War II--if you have any knowledge of German history, you know that was NOT the time to live in Berlin). My dad is American, and when my dad and my mom met in California (my mother's father is American and was in the military--he met my Omi during the Berlin Airlift), and had me and my brother, they decided to move to Germany with the Army. For the first few years of my life (I was the ages of my own children), I lived all over Southern Germany. My mom and dad divorced when I was five, and we moved back to the states. Even with that move, my brother and I still went to Germany to visit my mom, so even though we were gone from Germany, it was still a place we visited often.
My youth was spent wearing fun German clothing, including dirndls. My brother had lederhosen, too. Fast forward to now. Do I get to Germany very often anymore? Well, nein, not really. I went a few years ago in 2005, but that is not how I received three dirndls. My dirndls are from my step-grandmother, Grandma Jane, who passed away when I was twelve. In a twist of serendipity, she and my grandfather (not my mom's dad, but my dad's dad) were living in Germany while we were in Germany. Grandma Jane loved clothing, and loved celebrating ethnic clothing, so she purchased upwards of 20 dirndls. I always loved my Grandma Jane's style, and because my Grandpa couldn't get rid of her gorgeous clothing when she passed away, I was gifted her clothing (not all of it, but some of her pieces came my way) eventually. It took my grandpa YEARS to accept her passing, and when he was ready to get rid of the pieces, he realized that I am the same size she was (height and all), so he gave me three of the dirndls. And what kind of person would I be if I didn't wear them when I can...
And knowing what a clothes horse Grandma Jane was, I still don't get how we aren't blood-related. LOL.
Hang on for a moment longer, then pics, I promise...
My dad went to Germany two years ago and because I asked him, he bought both Rex and CW an authentic lederhosen and dirndl. Of course he sized WAY up, so they weren't quite big enough last Halloween to celebrate their German heritage, but this year, well, ya, das ist gut!
And just for you all...a sneak peek of tonight...German style. (Get out the oom-pah band.) (Accordians and beer steins ready?)
What do I mean I am wearing the pink one tonight? Isn't the green one what I am wearing today? Nope. I got to be all FESTIVE twice this week. Rex's preschool had a Halloween day on Thursday, so we get to celebrate our heritage TWICE. In one week. If we keep this up, the German store down the street from our house may just hire us to work every Sunday, holding up signs on the road announcing the fact that there is a GERMAN store right there in the middle of all the Ethiopian and Korean restaurants. We would fit right in. (It still boggles my mind that there is a German store right there...I keep expecting its doors to shutter closed, but it never does. Maybe it is a demand thing...maybe all the Germans in the DC area drive all the way to this store to get their Weißwurst and spätzle once a week and that alone keeps them in business.)
No, we didn't get Baby CW's baby doll her own dirndl. Even I don't want to shop that badly...
BTW, Baby CW could have been given the dirndl and told to wear it, and it would have been no issue at all. Rex, not so much. The only way we got him to wear it? They are officially Hansel and Gretel. It took only three weeks, with many hours spent telling him the story, showing him the various versions of it on youtube, and singing the song before he finally gave in.
So don't anyone mention to him that he is a German Boy, instead call him Hansel. Oh, and make a really big deal about saving his sister from the witch by pushing the witch in the oven. (Yeah, you can tell my son is three.)
Have a great day. I hope you and yours have a really great time celebrating Halloween!
