Don't ask me how we'll ever top this one, but for our first wedding
anniversary on the recent 5 February weekend, Astrid reserved a floor of this
windmill B&B. See that middle window just under the platflorm?
That was our Bed part of the B&B, a full-fledged apartment. With
gale-force 'Level 8' winds swirling around us all night, 39-46 mph, we slept
like babies. See the window below us on the ground floor? That was
the Breakfast part of the B&B the next morning.
When Astrid first Googled, she discovered The Netherlands has only two such B&B windmills. She picked this one in Onderdendam, in the NE of the country, 125 miles from home. It can't be compared to anything else we've done thus far. We had the time of our lives!
That got me thinking about the phrase, 'the time of our lives.' In the 1987 movie Dirty Dancing, one of my favorites of all time, it was "I've never felt this way before." That's the first thing I think of. A FEELING. Sure, it's a feeling often based on what you're doing but I'm guessing some have stayed in that same B&B and didn't have the time of their lives. Not like we did. So why did WE? What makes something be the time of our lives?
I have a feeling it's more than what we check off our Bucket List or the Create-a-Wish thing we choose if there's only one wish left to be granted us. It may not be something grandiose or hugely spectacular or at some exotic location. It may be something as simple as playing golf on the pro-circuit course of Atlanta, as wished by an elderly lady when I worked in assisted-living years ago. She got her wish and had the time of her life. Why? Because she used to play golf a lot as a young woman and just hankered to play again, even if only putting around on the warm-up green alongside the course.
Some things are just deep inside the chambers of our souls. Where they came from and how they got there we may never know. Windmills, for instance. It's like I lived inside one in a past life. How else do you explain it? And when did I know they were there? How was it that I 'recognized' them when I first came to this country of windmills, as though I always had known them?
When I Googled the phrase ('time of our lives'), I read about our internal, biological clocks...always ticking. Always knowing. About how we gain reconciliation with time like a valuable commodity. About the perspective we live it...in the past, the present, or the future. About how we spend our days doing, feeling, hoping, and what controls our time. How do we juggle our work and leisure, for instance? How do we feel time? How do we age?
Now throw this in: staying in the windmill was a special experience for Astrid but she said it was planning the joy for me and seeing it on my face that gave her the time of her life. She knows what's in the deep chambers of my soul and she recognized it when she saw it on my face! Of course, it wouldn't have been the same for me without her.
And that raises the question: can we have the time of our life alone, without someone else? I would guess, so, yes...like the golfer. But how can you beat sharing it with someone else. Especially when the wind is blowing!
When Astrid first Googled, she discovered The Netherlands has only two such B&B windmills. She picked this one in Onderdendam, in the NE of the country, 125 miles from home. It can't be compared to anything else we've done thus far. We had the time of our lives!
That got me thinking about the phrase, 'the time of our lives.' In the 1987 movie Dirty Dancing, one of my favorites of all time, it was "I've never felt this way before." That's the first thing I think of. A FEELING. Sure, it's a feeling often based on what you're doing but I'm guessing some have stayed in that same B&B and didn't have the time of their lives. Not like we did. So why did WE? What makes something be the time of our lives?
I have a feeling it's more than what we check off our Bucket List or the Create-a-Wish thing we choose if there's only one wish left to be granted us. It may not be something grandiose or hugely spectacular or at some exotic location. It may be something as simple as playing golf on the pro-circuit course of Atlanta, as wished by an elderly lady when I worked in assisted-living years ago. She got her wish and had the time of her life. Why? Because she used to play golf a lot as a young woman and just hankered to play again, even if only putting around on the warm-up green alongside the course.
Some things are just deep inside the chambers of our souls. Where they came from and how they got there we may never know. Windmills, for instance. It's like I lived inside one in a past life. How else do you explain it? And when did I know they were there? How was it that I 'recognized' them when I first came to this country of windmills, as though I always had known them?
When I Googled the phrase ('time of our lives'), I read about our internal, biological clocks...always ticking. Always knowing. About how we gain reconciliation with time like a valuable commodity. About the perspective we live it...in the past, the present, or the future. About how we spend our days doing, feeling, hoping, and what controls our time. How do we juggle our work and leisure, for instance? How do we feel time? How do we age?
Now throw this in: staying in the windmill was a special experience for Astrid but she said it was planning the joy for me and seeing it on my face that gave her the time of her life. She knows what's in the deep chambers of my soul and she recognized it when she saw it on my face! Of course, it wouldn't have been the same for me without her.
And that raises the question: can we have the time of our life alone, without someone else? I would guess, so, yes...like the golfer. But how can you beat sharing it with someone else. Especially when the wind is blowing!
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