Crazy Changes

This morning was supposed to be fairly relaxed. We’d decided that we would sleep in, have B go to his meeting and then run our only two errands in the afternoon. Then we’d pack for Switzerland, have dinner with a friend, and escape the chaos until next week. Someone, somewhere is cackling mercilessly at my naivete. After we lazed in bed until the last possible moment, I was taking a decadently long shower when B stuck his head into the room. He told me that the guy doing our pre-move walk through would be there in 15 minutes. I sort of gasped but wasn’t too worried, until our buzzer rang. B threw clothes into the bathroom and I hurriedly dressed while he let the guy into our house. And that’s where it all changed.

Remember yesterday’s schedule? It looked something like this:

17-20 Feb: Vacation

21-22 Feb: Prep everything for move

23 Feb: Moving Day one

24 Feb: Moving Day two

27 Feb: Final out

28 Feb: B and Loki fly to Turkey

2 March: Kendra flies to Turkey

It was rushed, but it was a relaxed rush. We had plenty of days to figure out shipping the car, clearing with housing and the landlady, and all those fun things. Not so much anymore. The new schedule, after some haggling to keep from having to cancel our vacation for the movers is:

17-20 Feb: Vacation

21 Feb: Moving Day

23 Feb: Military reclaims loaned appliances

24 Feb: Ship car, vet appointment, and clear housing

27 Feb: B takes test, clears base, go to Frankfurt via shuttle

28 Feb: Fly to new home

I mean, it’s not a huge change. But we’ve lost several free days to organize the house. We’ll do some this afternoon and some Monday night once we’re home. And the rest? Well, they’ll just have to pack up our chaos. Their own damn fault for changing everything on us anyway.

Anyway, I have a lot that I should be doing. And another blog to update in order to have a touch more down time.

~The Countess~

Discombobulated

There is so much going on that I’m having difficulties in comprehending everything, though that could be the antihistamines talking. There’s so much that I want to say, so much that I need to do, and yet, when I try to say or do things, it’s like I’m grasping at straws that are just beyond my reach. I get an idea and it’s gone before I can verbalize it. And this swirl of chaos is my life for the next few weeks. I hope that I can find coherence somewhere in all of this because I can’t imagine being stuck unable to process anything for too much longer.

Everything is progressing shockingly smoothly with our orders and the move. We will be gone from Germany in two weeks. Looking around my house right now, that’s really hard to believe and yet it is true. We leave on Friday for Switzerland and get back on Monday. On the following Thursday and Friday they will pick up all of our belongings. On the next Tuesday B and Loki will fly out. I will follow them at the end of that week. On the third Friday I will see my new home for two years. I’m excited and I’m nervous.

Life is a dance of jumping through hoops, dropping off paperwork, and finding more to sign. It’s a chaos of cleaning, planning, and knowing that we won’t have a fridge starting next Thursday. One week until I can’t cook again for who knows how long. They never can tell you how long it will take to get you a house. And then of course it’s anyone’s guess about how long it’ll be before your belongings show up.

I’m running around armed with my copy of orders and all of my power of attorney’s. I have four. A general one, one to ship our car, one to ship our belongings, and one to change our financial allotments. Crazy, no? If we lived in the States we would just need the general one. But because we’re here we have to have the fancy specific ones.

I told B last night that I don’t want to move. And I don’t. I hate this process. I just want to be in our new home. I want to magically wake up and be there without the inbetween of getting there. At least B is the one that has to navigate a commercial airport with the pup. There are no pet slots on the base to base flights for the next month. So commercial and with B he goes. That’ll be a sight. B will have the pup and his giant kennel, a carry on, plus two suitcases. And no, I won’t be there to help. They have to be at the airport at three in the morning, I love them both, but I’m not that crazy.

Anyway, dinner won’t cook itself and we are trying to eat at home every now and then. We’re out so much between saying goodbye to friends and needing to get things done that the kitchen feels abandoned. Hopefully I’ll start to make more sense soon.

~The Countess~

Gaijin

The room is full, crowded, bustling. Music is playing, drums are tapped. A baby is crying. Balls bounce and thud. Everywhere people are talking.

Words fall around my ears meaningless and empty. Maybe every tenth word is understandable translatable.

I am an island in this sea of chaos. Soon we will all be cheering. Soon we will have a common goal. But still I remain separated.

The other wives and girlfriends try. But the language barrier works both ways. They could order food in English. I can order food in German. But that doesn’t make for good conversations.

There is no feeling quite like sitting completely isolated in a room full of people. There is no feeling quote like being a gaijin.

~The Countess~

Stress Free

If you know me then you probably know that stressing is my favorite way of coping with things. There is some sado-masochistic part of myself that actually likes to feel stressed. Maybe it makes me feel improtant/needed or maybe I just like the relief that comes with getting through things.

Case in point, when I was in grad school I used to stress over two things. Money and my thesis. Money because I was trying to take out the minimum in loan amounts and still live the high life (hey I did it) and the thesis, well because it was an 80,000 word document that held my graduation in the middle of it’s confusing and meaningless pages. And I would stress about these constantly. My night-time routine consisted of trying to write on my thesis until I was so tired I would just collapse into bed. If I didn’t then I’d spend the night in bed like this, “ooh, here’s a good idea for thesis” and start writing my thesis in my head until I finally got up and actually started working on it. Or, even better like this, “so, I get paid tomorrow and then this bill comes out on x, this bill on y, and then on z I get more money, okay good that all comes out right,” only I’d repeat it ad nausea until I had to get up and add/subtract it all out with a calculator.

Post grad school, once my financial situation was golden I’d let work situations stress me out. Concerts, field trips, over bearing parents, under involved parents, the works. I’d run around like crazy and in a bit of a frantic whirl trying to make sure everything got done.

No more.

I’m tired of it. I didn’t sleep at all last night. Now, I know that the excitement of going to Turkey headed all of that up, but there was more to it than that. We’ve decided to sell my car and I listed it last night. Upon going to bed my brain starts running through everything I’ll need to take care of for that and turned straight to stressing over getting the dog’s records all updated. Now, I’m sitting on my couch after being up for 5 hours on less than three of sleep and my stomach hurts and I just can’t do it anymore.

To top it all off, B is having difficulty getting things going because the AF seems to forget that while we’re administratively attached to Texas we’re physically in Germany. So he can’t get his orders because they have to come from Texas. He’s up on base right now trying to see what he can do. Part of getting his orders is making sure I’m command sponsored. That just means that military deems me healthy enough to live on a military base and be cared for by military doctors because I won’t have any other options. Hello, guess what I already have to even be able to live here? Yep, command sponsorship.

He’s been texting me about it all morning while I watch our poor puppy be miserable because he got four shots today. And I was stressing over the puppy reacting okay to the shots and then the news that it’s all going to be tight and I just won’t do it anymore.

I texted him back, “I’m not going to worry about it. It’s all going to work out and we’ll end up in Turkey.”

And you know something? That’s the truth. Somehow, someway we’re going to sell my car, get orders, have our belongings shipped, pack suitcases, and head to the States for a quick trip all before settling in Turkey to start off 2012.

I was stressed out over the last move. I want to enjoy this one. And the next. Moving is going to be part of our lives. So is the AF’s crazy way of doing things. Stress though? I don’t have any room for it anymore.

~The Countess~

Up in the Air No More

Remember how I mentioned in earlier today that everything was up in the air and it was stressing me out? So, yeah, here’s my update on that.

As of this past Friday, B was released from his special program. It meant a return to working security forces for the USAF. It meant a return to the looming possibility of deployment and a certain major change to our every day lives. We just didn’t know how major.

In my naivete, I figured since the AF just spent a lot of money to move us from Minot to Germany just last year that they would leave us here. I knew it could mean that B would deploy sooner in order to wait for a slot  to open up.

Just last night one of B’s good friends from Minot called us. He mentioned that there weren’t any spots open in Germany at all. And that he (the friend) would be going to Turkey for a short tour. B mentioned that joining him would be fun but that the chances of that were less than one percent.

Hi, we’re the one percent.

Yep, just over a year after frantically getting ready to move to Germany we are now frantically getting ready to move to Turkey. Only it isn’t so frantic since we don’t have the orders yet.

It’s nice to know where we’re going. It’s nice to know that B cannot deploy while we’re there.

All I really know so far is that we’re going. Our friend will be there with us. We can take Loki. I have to sell my car (but this is kind of a plus as we’ll use the money to pay off my student loans). We will be living on base.

And that’s it. Exact dates, specific details, all of that will have to wait. But at least now we know.

~The Countess~

Jet Lagged, Baby

I love living in Europe, I really do. And I love going home to visit, I really do. But, I loathe making the trip between the two locations.

I don’t travel well.

My Mom would say that this comes of no surprise. I was the squalling infant who would scream louder when put in a car seat. Seriously. It was so bad that one of my Mom’s aunts insisted that I must just hate my hand-me-down car seat. Said Great Aunt of mine bought me a brand new car seat with the latest bells and whistles and even had it’s own sunshade which was apparently revolutionary in 1985. It didn’t help. I still started screaming the instant I was put in the car seat and wouldn’t stop until I was taken out of it.

This translates to today. In the last year I have taken 7 transatlantic flights. Each flight takes approximately 15 hours travel time. I think I have slept for a combined 7 hours during these flights. 4 of those came on the most recent flight when I doped myself up with a double dose of sleeping pills. Even those 4 hours where broken up by crying babies, lights coming on and off, and breakfast being served.

There’s a major time zone difference.

Every one of our trips, after the original flight here, has taken us through Texas. That’s a 7 hour difference from my day to day. Which means that the trip there isn’t that bad, though I’m dead on my feet when I arrive. This resulted in me being in no mood to party when I went to a bachelorette party during this last trip. I had barely been in the States for 24 hours, my body was still on German time and was pretty put out with me for staying out until 0700 it’s time, who cares if that’s as lame as heading to bed by midnight. Still, I can typically push through, because I do get to sleep soon. And it’s awesome for traveling afterwards because sleeping in until 0800 local time means that my body thinks it’s mid afternoon and it’s ready to go.

Coming back though? It’s brutal. The flights are typically mid-afternoon to early evening. Though we rarely get a direct flight, so that means a full day at the airport prior to the long flight. The catch is that they land first thing in the morning for us. This last time, we left the States at 1600 EST and landed in Germany at 0600 local time. Then we had to deplane, get luggage, clear customs, find our shuttle, and drive home. I took a one hour nap this last time and woke up crankier and groggier than when I went to sleep. We went to bed at 2200 that night and slept for 14 hours.

It’s hard to right the schedule.

Like I said, it’s easy enough when traveling to the US to get back on the same schedule. Waking up early doesn’t come naturally to either one of us, so we adapt rather quickly to not getting up at 7 or 8 in the morning. Unfortunately, that makes it even harder to get up back here at home. Going to bed the first night is easy, but waking up the next morning? It’s tough. Because, my body is still on time 7 hours later, so noon for me is reading like 0500. Sleeping in that late though, makes it harder to go to bed the next night, which makes it harder to get up the next morning. And as easy as that, I can reverse my sleep schedule.

Last year, that wasn’t such a big deal. I never taught before 1400, so sleeping in was no biggie. This year? I teach morning lessons on both Monday and Tuesday. So…I can’t sleep for all hours.

Aren’t I a horrid person for complaining about jet lag?

It feels like one of those things that I shouldn’t complain about. I mean, jet lag means I’ve gotten to visit family back home and highlights the fact that I’m getting to live it up in Europe. But the fact is, it’s probably the second suckiest part about living over here.

Still, I’ll take it. I get to make great memories when I travel home. That’s totally worth wanting to squall like a baby when I put my seatbelt on during the flight.

~The Countess~

It’s Business

There’s something inexplicably empowering about being in business for yourself. You set your hours, your success is dependent solely on yourself, and there’s no boss to growl at you if you decide to take a mental health day. On the flip side, you have to stay accountable.

When I was in college, part of my piano pedagogy training involved seminars on how to run your own business. We covered the topic of taxes, insurance, contracts, schedules, and interviews. While useful, they were also all too brief. And, in the long run, nothing but actual practice teaches you what works best for you.

For instance, every seminar I ever attended advocated having your student sign a contract. The contract generally stipulates a length of time (semester, school year, number of months) that the student will have lessons during. The lesson length, price, and policies are all included. It protects the teacher from students just disappearing part way through the year. It gives you something to reference when they try to argue your policies.

I don’t use a contract.

My reasoning is simple, we are all military families stationed overseas. When B and I moved here, it was on short notice orders – we had less than 6 weeks from getting notified to having to be in country. That’s just the military life. I can’t hold students to a length of time that they themselves don’t know if they can fulfill. I give them my policies when they sign up, but there is nothing for them to sign. Nothing to keep them from leaving me…well, besides the lack of English speaking teachers in the area…

Another part of the flexibility that I offer my students, is that I don’t charge them for missed lessons. A lot of teachers hold to the policy that you pay for a time slot each week. I hold that you pay for the lessons that I teach. If you miss, then you don’t pay, but you also don’t get a make up lesson. So far this has worked really well for me.

The downside to the personal aspect of the services I charge, is that my clients often forget that this is a business for me. When we first moved here, I didn’t have a piano so I traveled to my students homes. I warned them all that should I buy a piano while here, that this would change. Lo and behold, I bought a piano this last summer after numerous problems with the studio where I was renting hours.

Most of my students are making the transition with grace. I offered an out to a few students who I know cannot travel – they pay an increased fee and had to move to times that were easier for me to travel to them. But I’m only traveling to 4 families. Two moved to the morning hours when no one else could take, the other two live close enough to me that it isn’t a big deal to me, but is to them due to their current circumstances.

A few of my students are taking this as a personal affront and have been very difficult in regards to scheduling. One family ignored my email requesting the times they wanted for three weeks, and then became upset when I didn’t have the time they wanted. They’re forgetting that this is my business. And I have to run it that way.

Again, it’s hard. I develop close relationships with my clients. It is hard to have to tell them that I can no longer teach them. But sometimes I have to.

When I traveled to my students, I lost at least 1 lesson slot for every lesson that I taught. Not only was that lost money in terms of time, but then I had to spend gas as well. It also reduced the number of students that I could teach.

It’s business. It can be crazy fun and fulfilling; but it can also be tough. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

~The Countess~

By the way, if you have popped over here to check out my Croatia pics yet, you should. They’re really awesome.

Home

It’s supposed to be where the heart is. A place wrapped in love, happiness, wholeness. As an Air Force wife, I’m learning quickly that home is what you make of it. And here I am, home again in rainy Germany. We left Croatia in sunshine, warmth, and bliss and returned to Germany and road construction, storms, and cool weather. Still, it’s nice to be home.

Vacations are curious creatures. They are absolutely delightful to go on and dreadful to return from. Yet, yet, there is nothing like coming home.

I had a week of major adventure, fantastic sights, and laughter with dear friends. While some of the photos will be popping up here, most will end up over at Love Ever After, so be sure to check there. Now, I think I’m going to go fall asleep. It’s been a long day of leaving paradise.

~The Countess~

Away

Off to Pag! Not supposed to have Internet access, so I’ll see y’all in a week, okay?

It’s good to be home

Vacations are always nice. Every time I leave, I can’t help thinking that there’s nothing quite nicer than going away for a break. And then I come home again. And I realize that there truly is nothing better than coming home.

Our vacation was full of ups and downs. There were family issues with both events that we went to. There were long days in the car. And then there were get togethers with old friends that lasted hours. B and I had dinner with VJ (his ex). We went to Melting Pot for my birthday. My actual birthday was spent on a plane.

Overall it was a great trip. One that I really don’t want to repeat any time soon. I will be going back to TX for a friend’s wedding in September, but it’s looking like it will be a solo trip for me. By the end I was so sick of hotels and spare beds that I kind of wanted to cry. I wanted my own space. I didn’t sleep well over the entire second half of the trip. I was essentially on the floor in my sister’s room and she kept it really warm in there for sleeping. Not to mention her cat. I was so exhausted by the time we got home.

B’s family had a major meltdown during graduation. It was not particularly fun to get caught up in. We got blamed for some of it due to our having lived together before being married (his parents are very catholic). At that point we just made a quiet exit, sent some silent support to the person ‘in trouble’ and promptly ignored it all. By bedtime that night everyone was acting like mature adults again instead of tired and cranky children.

My family situation is always…interesting. The basic solution seemed to be that my dad’s side of the family just ignored me during the wedding. Other than perfunctory hellos they said nothing to me. At all. I found out from a friend that is also friends with my cousins that there was a get-together post wedding at one cousin’s house. The friend told me because she wanted to know why I hadn’t come. She was shocked that I wasn’t invited. I wasn’t remotely surprised. I did have one cousin tell me that she was “angry” that B wasn’t there so she could meet him. The same cousin who “couldn’t get time off” to visit with us at Christmas, even though she took the time off at the exact same time to go visit her sister. I’m pretty much writing off that side of the family.

On the up-side, my oldest sister, whom I haven’t seen since 2003 came to the wedding and we had a fabulous time together. We spent a lot of time laughing and getting things done. I’m so, so glad that she was there. And, I think I’ve found where I want to have my wedding ceremony, that one may get it’s own post though, so I’m sitting on the info for awhile.

Probably the biggest highlight of the trip is that Team USA won their competition! B and his teammates tied Uruguay and stomped Guatemala to advance to the Pan-American games in October in Guadelajara. So we have 6 more months of reprieve from real life. Maybe we can actually take our honeymoon before he goes back to work…

The two things I missed the most while we were gone were our friends over here and the gym. We see our friends 3-5 times a week between midweek dinners and weekend events. As to the gym, besides two days of swimming laps in a hotel pool, I did not work out at all while we were gone. I felt so gross. We were too tired yesterday to work out, so we hit the gym up in a major way today. 45 minutes of weight lifting, 300 crunches, and 30 minutes of cardio. I feel so amazing right now, tired, but healthy. And we’re meeting up with friends tonight for dinner, so it’s a win all around.

I missed blogging too, I had to steal time to read any blogs so it will be nice to get back to commenting as well as writing my own posts.

~The Countess~

Third Wheel

I’m so used to being the third/fifth/seventh wheel. Before I met B, I never had a relationship that lasted more than a month and a half. All of my friends always were in relationships, so it was often a couple of couples and me. I learned to roll with it. Some of the girlfriends in H-town and I had a shared signal for if I got uncomfortable in an evening. Mostly I just learned to drive myself places so that if the evening got to couple-y I could leave. I lived with a married couple and mainly had married friends in SA, so again, I knew how to handle it.

This weekend made me feel like a hanger-on novice. B and I went to visit his friend Sparky. (Sparky is an electrical engineer) These guys have been friends forever – they grew up together. They’ve also never hung out together with anyone else around unless it was a big group. Most particularly, they’ve never had girls around. Now, we visited Sparky back before we left the States and had a great time. I honestly had no worries going into this weekend. Sparky is here for 6 months with his job. I had some twinges of concern over losing B to a bunch of guy’s weekends, but honestly thought that my worries were baseless.

After this past weekend, I’m more concerned than ever. Possibly because I got uninvited from a trip we were supposed to take together, but mostly because Sparky very obviously resented my presence. He clearly wanted his friend to himself and was not happy that he couldn’t have that. Such as, B would leave the room to shower and Sparky would rebuff all of my attempts at conversation. It was strange.

Which now leaves me in a very uncomfortable place. Because, I have an open door policy for all of our friends – anyone can come stay with us. This includes Sparky. But now I’m worried that I’m going to get sidelined every time he comes around. I already know that this is happening for at least one trip in March.

I can accept B having a friend who doesn’t get along with me. I can accept not getting along with B’s friends and still having them visit. But I will not accept someone making me the third wheel in my own marriage.

B hadn’t realized how awkward I felt. For that matter it took awhile for him to realize why I was upset over the trip issue. He does get it now, but again, it leaves us both in an awkward position.

I try so hard when we’re out with single friends to not be too couple-y. Like, we’re very couple-y. We like our PDA just fine. But, I try to be more sensitive when we’re out with single friends. But, I expect the same treatment in return. I get that they have a long history together, that they’ve been friends for just about forever. But that doesn’t mean that he gets to even try to supplant my relationship with my husband. He may have prior claims, but he doesn’t have stronger ones.

It’s just a hard balance to strike for both B and me. He has to balance keeping the friendly door open with not letting this guy try and come between us. I have to make him feel welcome even when he doesn’t return the favor.

Hopefully it will have been a fluke thing. Hopefully getting settled here in Germany will help this friend to settle in and not be super possesive of his friends.

~The Countess~

Turn Around

The first thing I have to say is thank you to Stereo and Emjaye. Reading both of your comments on my last blog truly lifted my spirits. Keep an eye on your inboxes because you may get mail from me in the future when I need to vent and feel like I can’t. Feel free to send me emails too, I’m a correspondence junkie.

It’s amazing what 24 hours can do. Last night was rough on me. I struggled to stay somewhat positive. I skipped my workout and ate cheetos with my husband while he played video games instead. Then I had a night of weird dreams. When our alarm went off this morning, I honestly just wanted to pull the covers over my head and give up on the day. I just didn’t want to face the day. But B really wanted to go look at cars today and inventory moves really fast here, so I dragged myself up.

First off, it was freezing cold today. I was shivering a lot and I had on a good winter jacket. We used one of our eat out days for lunch before heading over to the car dealership. I’d found a 2008 Mazda 3 ‘Touring’ edition with 29000 miles on it on one site and we wanted to take a look at it. It was a bit pricy, but seemed worth it. When we got there and saw the car, I was heavily reluctant about it. It was full of a lot of features – sun roof, 6 cd changer, fog lights (running lights), and the like. Things that I don’t really care about. We wanted to test drive it, but their only dealer plates were out on another car, so we left there intending to go back the next day. Instead, we wandered up the street to another used car lot. This one also had a Mazda 3 hatchback. It was a more basic model – no sun roof, only one cd at a time, but still a good car. It was a 2007 with 50k miles, but it was 4k cheaper than the other car. And they let us test drive it. We now have that car on reserve until we can take them a check. About the only downside to the car is that it’s white.

I’m very psyched about this car. It’s cute. It’s sporty. It handles like a dream. We aren’t worried about the 50k miles as we know that Mazda is a good brand name and that they handle their miles well. I’m also used to driving cars with high mileage, so it doesn’t really scare me. We know we should get at least another 30k before it needs any work done. It also has brand new all season tires on it, which cost a pretty penny over here in Germany. It’s going to be our touring car – we’ll use it for trips and I’ll use it as my car. Then we head back to the US, we’ll be taking it with us. I’m excited, which is awesome because I was resigning myself to not liking the car we purchased. And now we got exactly what I wanted.

The other part of my turn around came tonight while teaching. Only one of my students comes to me and she’s a young mom who is super sweet and super overwhelmed with her kids. And at the end of her lesson, she invited me to the Lia Sophia party that she’s hosting this weekend. I was making non-commital comments about going – because it is a Saturday that B has free, but he was mouthing at me to go. I’m really hoping that maybe, just maybe, this can be what I need to make friends and find a place here in the community.

~The Countess~

Open Letter: Waitress Edition

~This is the first in a series of rants that I’ve been collecting in my head. The setting for this letter was Friday night’s date night dinner with my husband. Our restaurant choices are limited and we tried a new one in hopes of expanding our routine. In spite of the free coupons we have to lure us back, I will never voluntarily step foot in this establishment again.~

Dear Waitress,

I get that you are new to the job. That much was evident in the first five minutes of being seated. When you come over to take orders, try making eye contact instead of staring at the ground. I want to know for sure that you’ve heard me. Also on this subject, when you take the drink orders please remember to go ahead and ask if we have any questions or if there’s anything else we need. That saves us from having to wave you down to ask you what the soup of the day is. Speaking of which, please don’t ever describe a gnocchi to me again as a “chicken noodle soup with ravioli” because I won’t order based on that description when I would have eaten it if you’d told me what it was called. (Quick lesson: know your menu)

A good rule of thumb to go by, is that if your customers have empty glasses, they’d probably like refills. A way to avoid having to stop by their table every ten minutes is to fill their glasses more than half full with liquid. Yes, I’m serious, go ahead and fill it up to the top, we aren’t children, we won’t spill it. Oh yeah, and I get that you had a booth of friends or family there, but if they’re that much of a distraction to you, please ask them to leave. Your tip is diminishing rapidly as we watch you continually check on them while no one else in our section can get your attention. (Quick lesson: your tip is based directly on the service rendered)

Really, all of that was probably just going to get you a bad tip. We try and be fair, but, service is service and I will not reward you for doing a poor job. Of course, then you went and let the catalyst happen. You paid so little attention to anyone but that one booth, that your manager had to serve our plates. And my ravioli was tepid at best. When you came by the table and I complained, you did a great job of saying you would take care of it for me. I’ll admit that by now I was doubtful, after all, I’d just had a 15 dollar plate served to me cold; but I was willing to hope for the best.

Five minutes later you return with my plate and warned me that it was exceedingly hot. You took off so fast that I couldn’t even tell you that I needed a new fork. After I snagged one from a nearby table, I looked down at my plate and was horrified. For there, on the plate, was the half eaten ravioli that you’d taken to the kitchen. I stared in shock, and a bit of horror, as I realized that my entire plate had just been reheated. The sauce was now congealed on the plate and the ravioli looked rubbery and burned. Again we called you to the table, I asked how it had been reheated and you told me you had just stuck it in the oven. I asked how that could possibly be safe or sanitary and you said it was company policy. I asked for your manager.

You took your sweet time (ten minutes) in talking to him and getting him to come to our table. When he did get there, he assured me that in no way was it the restaurant policy to reheat plates in the oven as it is unsanitary and overcooks the food. (Quick lesson: if you’re going to give excuses, at least make sure that they’re true) At this point in time, I was on the edge of tears and just wanted to go home. We thanked the manager, asked for my dish to be removed from the ticket and asked for our check. He brought it to us and then left you to process our receipt.

Again you were nowhere to be seen. One of your coworkers went after you twice for us as we sat for an extra fifteen minutes waiting for you to come around our table. (Quick lesson: if you’ve embarassed yourself by lying to a customer, don’t make it worse by prolonging the amount of time that they have to spend in your store) You finally came, left, and returned with nary a word.

We left your restaurant with a ruined meal and a ruined evening. By that time it was too late for us to go anywhere else to get food. We have coupons for your restaurant from your manager. I think I’ll give them to my worst enemies and tell them to ask for your section. Oh wait, I don’t hate anyone that much.

Sincerely,

~The Countess~

Relinquish

Let go. Two small little words that have the impact of a sucker punch. I am so bad at letting go. I cling to friendships, places, memories, because deep in my heart I use them to define who I am. If they let me down, then I just blame that on myself and not them. I deserved it and that’s the only reason they failed me. This is probably where you expect me to say that I let go of this attitude this year. But I’m not going to. While I am working on not allowing someone else’s mistakes to be my fault, I embrace the fact that I am a people person who is shaped by those around her. Now, I don’t blow around like chaff in the wind, but there are many people in my life who have had a strong impact on who I am, and that will never change.

Enough of that, as this is about what I did let go of. I let go of one thing and one person this year. I released them, freed myself from them and have soared farther than I thought possible because of letting go of them. I would never be where I am today or who I am becoming tomorrow if I hadn’t relinquished their hold on my life.

The first place that I let go of was home. It’s funny because I’ve always been a goer and a doer over being a homebody on Friday night. Yet, up until this year, I never lived more than three hours from my childhood home. I centered my job searches to the cities near my parent’s home and stayed as close as I could. Trips home were a weekly occurence – my mom is a fabulous cook and one of my closest friends. I had allowed it to tether me to South Texas. Keep me close enough that I could call daily and visit regularly. And I let go of that to move to North Dakota to be with B. I was going to be 1500 miles away. I cried driving away from my family, I cried crossing the Texas border, I cried when “God Bless Texas” came on the radio in the middle of South Dakota. Yet, they were only a 5 hour plane trip away. A short phone call away. Still close. Then we moved to Germany. I now live in a time zone 7 hours ahead of my parents. It’s roughly a 13 hour flight to get back home. Phone calls are impossible and Skype calls are rare. I had to let go of my childhood home in order to make a new home. My new home isn’t a place though, it’s a person. With B’s job in the military now we move too much for a place to be home. He is my home now and it couldn’t have been this way without letting go of my childhood home.

The person I let go of has fought much harder to stay in my life. She doesn’t want to go quietly. She still rants and raves at me every now and then that I should let her back into my life. I won’t. I let go of the career woman I could have been. I had two jobs in SA that were career path jobs. I could close my eyes and see myself working in the higher up positions of the non-profit I worked for or the one we partnered with. I could picture myself as the director of the Fine Arts program where I taught. I had it in me. So much so that the Exectutive Director of one of the non-profits told me she saw me as one of “her” type of people and that she could see me going far in the non-profit world. That career woman is gone now. I said goodbye to those two amazing, career path jobs, and drove to North Dakota hoping to land a retail position at the local mall. I had just been offered a manager position when we took the orders to Germany. I certainly know as a military wife that my job will be secondary to his for the rest of our lives. And I’m just fine with that. A job doesn’t come home with you after a long day and cuddle with you. It doesn’t give you a back rub or just hold you when you’re sad. I’m perfectly happy teaching piano or working retail as we move around, in fact, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

For 2011, there’s only one thing that I really want to let go of. And that’s my resentment of B’s ex. She’s still a good friend of his. I would love for her to magically disappear from our lives. We reached a breaking point earlier over this, with me contemplating demanding that he cut her out of his life. But I can’t do that to him. Or her. But I can work on not feeling hurt every time her name pops up in his email inbox (no, I don’t snoop through his emails, his computer screen faces me and is some 30 inches across). I can work on not wanting to write mean things on the Christmas card as I address the envelope to her (this year I was just proud that I didn’t carry out the action). I want to let go of this, because, as it stands now, she has power over me and I’m not cool with that.

Letting go, it has such a strange connotation in our world. People who relinquish are often considered weak. And yet, we cup so much more in gently open hands than in tightly squeezed fists. We never know quite what we will be able to take hold of and run with until we let go of what has been holding us back.

~The Countess~

Striving for Normal

Thanksgiving when I was growing up was always a big production. My Mom started hosting when her Dad got sick with cancer. That way all the family could gather and it was close enough to him that he could come, but not at his house to add to his and his wife’s stress. I remember one year where we had over 40 people in attendance. I’m pretty sure the kids out-numbered the adults too. Luckily it was a pretty year so we spent a lot of time outside.

Thanksgiving always meant tons of people and tons of food. We’d start cooking days in advance. Since Mom taught us all at home, we’d get the week off and sometimes not start back until after the New Year so that we could recover and help her host Christmas too. We had turkey and cornbread dressing, gravy, at least two different kinds of cranberry sauce, ham, green bean casserole or green beans and new potatoes, mac and cheese, baked sweet potatoes, mushroom potatoes, fruit salad and dinner rolls. And that was just for dinner, we would have out cheese dip, guacomole and chips, cheese balls, cream cheese with picapepper and/or chipotle sauce, crackers. We’d have candied nuts, date nut muffins, buttermilk pie, pumpkin pie cake, pecan pie, and maybe a cheese cake.

Even in the last few years, when it’s been scaled back because the family has gotten too big for us to all get together due to new family committments, it’s still been a big occasion. One that I’m missing for the first time in my life. During my sophomore year of college we had a big flood Thanksgiving week (it’s what we get for living out in the boonies and across a creek) and my sister and I almost didn’t get to go home, but, we managed to get in.

Thanksgiving in Germany is different. It isn’t a German holiday. But, all the Americans still celebrate it. We’re going to a friends house, it’s a 1st Thanksgiving cooked for all of us. It will probably be just the four of us, but, at least we are celebrating. There are Christmas trees up everywhere already because that’s the next big German holiday. And you can see the military families striving for normal with their families and friends.

We work so hard on making our houses a home because they’re all we have. Sure on the outside the houses are all German but on the inside they’re all American. Getting the houses put together and celebrating every American holiday both seem to be top concerns of the families over here. Sure we know that we’re in another country and most of the time it is awesome but, we still need to feel like we’re Americans. Sure we know that Daddy (or Mommy) may be going off to a warzone in three weeks, but, things still have to feel normal both for those leaving and those staying behind. Picking up and moving every few years is hard. I’m already learning that the faster I can make my new house my home, the more normal it feels and the easier it is to adjust.

So here I am, prepping for my first Thanksgiving married, my first major holiday without my family, and just striving for normal.

~The Countess~