In the summer 1983 we were stationed in Fulda, Germany. By Christmas we were settled in and enjoying living in a farmhouse "on the economy". Sharing a wall with some cows and our attic with their grain. Our landlords lived across the street and spoke about as much English as we did German. They would even come to take the boys out to the pasture with them, once even bringing us all down to the barn to see what appeared to be something very exciting. In reality it was to witness the butchering of a pig and the promise of some fresh blood sausage. I digress . . .
The story I wanted to tell was of that first Christmas in Germany, before Jennifer was born. By the way I designed, sewed and appliqued these outfits on my trusty Kenmore plugged into a transformer (like a 220 converter). Tom wasn't a fan but I think they came out cute.
The story I wanted to tell was of that first Christmas in Germany, before Jennifer was born. By the way I designed, sewed and appliqued these outfits on my trusty Kenmore plugged into a transformer (like a 220 converter). Tom wasn't a fan but I think they came out cute.
I digress again . . .
The house we were living in had ONE oil burning stove for heat (we were cold!) and like in most of Europe 220 volt electricity compared to our 110 volts.
The house we were living in had ONE oil burning stove for heat (we were cold!) and like in most of Europe 220 volt electricity compared to our 110 volts.
Our Christmas decorations were accidentally left behind (never to be seen again) in Kansas where we were first stationed. We made most of the decorations for that tree deciding to forgo electric lights, even going out to cut it down. We were pretty proud of how it came out. Imagine our surprise when two days before Christmas our almost four year old innocent told Santa all he wanted was lights for our tree.