Believe it or not, we are still speaking to each other at this point.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
Friday, August 26, 2005
The Joys of Owning a Home
Although we were offered the opportunity to live on post in military quarters, we declined. The quarters that we were eligible to receive are small and we certainly would have been cramped. The house we bought (the one I bought on-line) is much larger than quarters and if we ever decide to finish the basement, we'll almost double the square footage. We have a lovely yard of which a portioned in fenced. That's a good thing for the pups. Unfortunately, the gate doesn't securely latch and Jake is able to push it open. In order to prevent them from wandering (and they have on several occasions) I now have an old style wash tub set against the gate. If this were West Virginia, it would be perfectly acceptable as lawn decoration. Actually, in some parts of our town, it's acceptable lawn decoration, but my neighbors have all their teeth and very well manicured lawns. I'll be glad to have the fence guy come fix it. For now, the wash tub solves the problem. Aesthetics are a bit further down on the "to do" list.
The first few days after our arrival, the sun was shining. The grass was rapidly turning brown and dying. We borrowed our neighbor's hose (ours still hadn't arrived) to water our lawn. Then, there was a shift in the weather. It began to rain. And rain. And rain. It rained for a solid two days before the clouds broke.
One of the trees in our back yard fell over into the pie-wedge portion of our yard. It didn't hit anything, except for other trees. Not too big of a deal. Unfortunately, it's OUR tree. There is no provision for off-post residents to call in for a work-order and have the Housing Department workers come clean up the mess. Nope. It's our house, our yard, our tree and ultimately, OUR problem.
After speaking with my neighbors and obtaining recommendations for a good tree guy, and after several more days of rain and a few more fallen tree limbs (nothing as dramatic as the first tree), a tree guy came out and gave us an estimate of what it would cost to remove the fallen tree, trim back some space invading branches, some future problematic branches and many dead limbs. Simply because the one tree had fallen down, we were able to get the work done within three days. Had we not had the fallen tree, it would have been several more weeks before a crew would have been able to come. The bid for the cost of tree rendering: $775.
Another tree crew came out to give their estimate on the job. This guy had maybe three teeth in his head and I am fairly certain he checked out my old style wash tub. His bid was $975. Naturally, I went with the first crew. No only would I save $200, I wouldn't have to worry about my wash tub "disappearing".
Wouldn't you know, once the big limbs were trimmed and removed, more dead and/or dying limbs were visible. Good thing for us that we had already agreed on the original bid and since the one fellow was already up in the trees precariously hanging from a rope and dangling a chain saw, they agreed to cut away the additional branches for no extra charge. That was so nice of them. I'm sure the fact that I provided them with cool beverages throughout the day helped with their generosity.
They worked very hard and quickly. Luckily, the rain held off most of the day. It drizzled off and on throughout the day, but the down pour didn't hit until after they loaded up all their equipment and drove away.
And the rain continues. We've had around four inches of rain in the last two days. I'm hoping the sump pump maintains its performance level. I really don't need to deal with a flooded basement right now. That would be a nightmare. Can you imagine?
The first few days after our arrival, the sun was shining. The grass was rapidly turning brown and dying. We borrowed our neighbor's hose (ours still hadn't arrived) to water our lawn. Then, there was a shift in the weather. It began to rain. And rain. And rain. It rained for a solid two days before the clouds broke.
One of the trees in our back yard fell over into the pie-wedge portion of our yard. It didn't hit anything, except for other trees. Not too big of a deal. Unfortunately, it's OUR tree. There is no provision for off-post residents to call in for a work-order and have the Housing Department workers come clean up the mess. Nope. It's our house, our yard, our tree and ultimately, OUR problem.
After speaking with my neighbors and obtaining recommendations for a good tree guy, and after several more days of rain and a few more fallen tree limbs (nothing as dramatic as the first tree), a tree guy came out and gave us an estimate of what it would cost to remove the fallen tree, trim back some space invading branches, some future problematic branches and many dead limbs. Simply because the one tree had fallen down, we were able to get the work done within three days. Had we not had the fallen tree, it would have been several more weeks before a crew would have been able to come. The bid for the cost of tree rendering: $775.
Another tree crew came out to give their estimate on the job. This guy had maybe three teeth in his head and I am fairly certain he checked out my old style wash tub. His bid was $975. Naturally, I went with the first crew. No only would I save $200, I wouldn't have to worry about my wash tub "disappearing".
Wouldn't you know, once the big limbs were trimmed and removed, more dead and/or dying limbs were visible. Good thing for us that we had already agreed on the original bid and since the one fellow was already up in the trees precariously hanging from a rope and dangling a chain saw, they agreed to cut away the additional branches for no extra charge. That was so nice of them. I'm sure the fact that I provided them with cool beverages throughout the day helped with their generosity.
They worked very hard and quickly. Luckily, the rain held off most of the day. It drizzled off and on throughout the day, but the down pour didn't hit until after they loaded up all their equipment and drove away.
And the rain continues. We've had around four inches of rain in the last two days. I'm hoping the sump pump maintains its performance level. I really don't need to deal with a flooded basement right now. That would be a nightmare. Can you imagine?
Friday, August 19, 2005
5:00 a.m. is for sleeping
Usually, I can sleep through just about anything. Okay, any noises. Blinding light from the bathroom dramatically disturbs my R.E.M., but that's another story. Back to the noises. My dogs, okay, my spoiled rotten little Sydney, tends to need a bit of extra attention and usually it's around 3:00 a.m. when she begins to act a tad sassy. My husband, the world's most patient man, hears her long before I do and takes care of her every whim. At 3:00 a.m. it's predominantly a visit to the yard. Although sometimes, Syd just needs to have someone be awake with her.
Since we have moved into our new home, Sydney has worn herself OUT. Not only do we have lots of windows from which she can see the squirrels invade the yard, but she can also witness the comings and goings of many, many, many deer. By the end of the day, she is so worn out that she doesn't even make it on the bed. She simply crawls under the bed and is snoozing before her head hits the proverbial pillow.
Unfortunately, the move into the house has had an opposite affect on me. As a result, I now know that the paperboy delivers our newspaper at 4:50 a.m. The sound of the approaching vehicle up our cul-de-sac off of a cul-de-sac in an otherwise silent environment, caused my eyes to pop awake. Yep....just in time for the blinding light from the headlights to hit the bedroom window. So.....now I'm wake awake.
It's going to be a long, long day.
Since we have moved into our new home, Sydney has worn herself OUT. Not only do we have lots of windows from which she can see the squirrels invade the yard, but she can also witness the comings and goings of many, many, many deer. By the end of the day, she is so worn out that she doesn't even make it on the bed. She simply crawls under the bed and is snoozing before her head hits the proverbial pillow.
Unfortunately, the move into the house has had an opposite affect on me. As a result, I now know that the paperboy delivers our newspaper at 4:50 a.m. The sound of the approaching vehicle up our cul-de-sac off of a cul-de-sac in an otherwise silent environment, caused my eyes to pop awake. Yep....just in time for the blinding light from the headlights to hit the bedroom window. So.....now I'm wake awake.
It's going to be a long, long day.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Internet Access
It's been a long time, but I finally have my computer set up and I am back on line. Thanks for being patient.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
I don't need no stinkin' helmet
The return to the United States has been quite eventful. Shortly after arriving in Colorado, my mother, son and I got in her Mustang convertible along with the five dogs and drove to Oklahoma to spend the 4th of July weekend with my sister and her family. Even though all the dogs are small, five certainly made for cramped conditions.
My sister is "horse people" and has three. The first one she bought is a pony. His name is Gandolf and he is a happy-go-lucky pony. I, being the animal lover that I am, couldn't wait to ride one of her horses. Apparently, Gandolf is known for forcing riders to fall off. I scoff. I've ridden horses before and have never fallen. My nephew is so convinced that I will have a close encounter with the ground that he puts his money where his mouth is and bet me a dollar. To a kid, that's a pretty decent amount for a bet. Still confident in my ability to defy gravity, I accept.
Up onto Gandolf's back, with no saddle and no helmet, I go. No bridle either, just a halter. Around the field, under some trees, around a pond, over a hill, walking and trotting. And wouldn't you know, there was no falling for me. Sorry, kid. You loose.
My sister's next horse is a Morgan. That's my nieces special horse and there was no doubt that I would not be riding that horse. He's a bit high spirited. Not a problem. I wasn't in any hurry to experience a rough ride. I was perfectly content to simply pet and brush him.
The horse I really wanted to get on was horse number three, Stryder. He's big: half Arabian and half Percheron. BIG. As I prepare to climb aboard, my sister suggested I might consider a helmet. She indicated that not only had she fallen off this horse, but my niece had too. I pass. I don't need a stinkin' helmet. I have no intention of falling off. Besides, this horse is mild-mannered and not prone to quick starts. My sister informs me that they affectionate refer to Stryder as Mount Stryder because he is a mountain of a horse and falling from the lofty perch, well....let's say it's a long way down.
My sister had arranged for my niece to have a riding/jumping lesson and a second riding lesson for me. So, up onto the horse I go. This time with a saddle, an English saddle, but a saddle none-the-less. No problems. All was well while I sat on the back of the horse and watched my niece encourage her Morgan over jumps.
Then, it was my turn. The training/instructor walked into a circle pen and I followed. Unfortunately for me, the pen didn't have a gate, just a flimsy strap attached to the fence posts. Initially, I didn't recognize the hazard, nor did my sister or the trainer.
Stryder was a bit nervous having a novice rider on his back. I was a bit nervous on the back of such a large horse.
The trainer instructed me to let loose the reigns and place my hands on the horse's withers and gently squeeze with my legs to make the horse move forward. Well, he had bent his head and neck down to nibble on some grass. As he lifted his head, he came up on the other side of the flimsy strap. He did exactly what I told him to do and he went forward. That strap....well, talk about clothesline.
On my way down, I thought to myself, "And I don't even have on a helmet."
I landed HARD. After a few minutes of seeing stars and feeling the earth's rotation, I got back up on the horse. This time, we hand an understanding. Go easy and let's be friends. There were no further complications.
My sister is "horse people" and has three. The first one she bought is a pony. His name is Gandolf and he is a happy-go-lucky pony. I, being the animal lover that I am, couldn't wait to ride one of her horses. Apparently, Gandolf is known for forcing riders to fall off. I scoff. I've ridden horses before and have never fallen. My nephew is so convinced that I will have a close encounter with the ground that he puts his money where his mouth is and bet me a dollar. To a kid, that's a pretty decent amount for a bet. Still confident in my ability to defy gravity, I accept.
Up onto Gandolf's back, with no saddle and no helmet, I go. No bridle either, just a halter. Around the field, under some trees, around a pond, over a hill, walking and trotting. And wouldn't you know, there was no falling for me. Sorry, kid. You loose.
My sister's next horse is a Morgan. That's my nieces special horse and there was no doubt that I would not be riding that horse. He's a bit high spirited. Not a problem. I wasn't in any hurry to experience a rough ride. I was perfectly content to simply pet and brush him.
The horse I really wanted to get on was horse number three, Stryder. He's big: half Arabian and half Percheron. BIG. As I prepare to climb aboard, my sister suggested I might consider a helmet. She indicated that not only had she fallen off this horse, but my niece had too. I pass. I don't need a stinkin' helmet. I have no intention of falling off. Besides, this horse is mild-mannered and not prone to quick starts. My sister informs me that they affectionate refer to Stryder as Mount Stryder because he is a mountain of a horse and falling from the lofty perch, well....let's say it's a long way down.
My sister had arranged for my niece to have a riding/jumping lesson and a second riding lesson for me. So, up onto the horse I go. This time with a saddle, an English saddle, but a saddle none-the-less. No problems. All was well while I sat on the back of the horse and watched my niece encourage her Morgan over jumps.
Then, it was my turn. The training/instructor walked into a circle pen and I followed. Unfortunately for me, the pen didn't have a gate, just a flimsy strap attached to the fence posts. Initially, I didn't recognize the hazard, nor did my sister or the trainer.
Stryder was a bit nervous having a novice rider on his back. I was a bit nervous on the back of such a large horse.
The trainer instructed me to let loose the reigns and place my hands on the horse's withers and gently squeeze with my legs to make the horse move forward. Well, he had bent his head and neck down to nibble on some grass. As he lifted his head, he came up on the other side of the flimsy strap. He did exactly what I told him to do and he went forward. That strap....well, talk about clothesline.
On my way down, I thought to myself, "And I don't even have on a helmet."
I landed HARD. After a few minutes of seeing stars and feeling the earth's rotation, I got back up on the horse. This time, we hand an understanding. Go easy and let's be friends. There were no further complications.
Sunday, June 26, 2005
Last message from Germany
Today is my last night in Germany. Tomorrow afternoon, I will fly across the pond and return to the United States of America. It's been a long three years, but a good three years. I've made many wonderful friends.
Being a member of the military community, I know that sooner or later our paths will cross again. Inasmuch, I don't say "good-bye". Good-bye is much to permanent. Instead, I'll say, "See you later."
Samantha, thanks so much for the use of your truck. Can you imagine how I would get three dog crates, three suitcases, two carry-on bags, my son, my husband and I into the MINI? It just wouldn't work. Three grocery bags fill up the "trunk" space.
Being a member of the military community, I know that sooner or later our paths will cross again. Inasmuch, I don't say "good-bye". Good-bye is much to permanent. Instead, I'll say, "See you later."
Samantha, thanks so much for the use of your truck. Can you imagine how I would get three dog crates, three suitcases, two carry-on bags, my son, my husband and I into the MINI? It just wouldn't work. Three grocery bags fill up the "trunk" space.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
That's Not Natural --- Oak Express
A week ago, I embarked on an unusual adventure. I drove almost two hours to pick up my husband's ex-wife at the airport. I had no anxiety about the situation right up to the point where the arrivals board indicated her flight had landed. For the twenty minutes it took her to clear customs, I began to get that queasy feeling in my stomach and I started asking myself, "What am I doing?"
When she appeared with her suitcase in tow, I wasn't sure how to act. Do I give her a hug or do I simply say, Welcome? What to do? What to do? I went with the hug. And at that moment, things were fine.
During the trip back to the house, she and I became friends. Over the course of the week, we laughed, chatted, shopped, drank and ate together. Onlookers would never suspect that we were the ex-wife and new wife.
We spent the better part of one day just sitting on the couch talking. We talked and talked and talked. We talked about old times, current times, and future times. Then, I broke out the old family photographs of when she was still the wife and the children (our son turns 18 today) were little kids. Lots of baby pictures and early childhood pictures. There were even a few pre-children pictures. When a photograph of my husband's "Love Machine" surfaced, she mentioned that the back seat was where she lost her virginity. Hmmmm, a little detail that I had not been privy to. We laughed at silly pictures and talked about old friends of hers which are new friends of mine.
Another day, and I showed her the scrapbooks I have compiled during my marriage. We laughed and joked and had a grand time. She and I, both being scrapbookers, shared ideas and techniques of memorializing our families' histories.
The big Oak Express moments (That's not natural) came when we were trying to decide what to wear to our son's high school graduation. How many ex-wives and new wives share clothes and try on each other's shoes? In spite of the weirdness of our situation, we had a fabulous time.
My husband, understandably, felt awkward. I had to remind him that early in our relationship, he had expressed interest in achieving a cordial relationship with her and her new family (three years ago, there was NO CHANCE of that EVER happening) and perhaps being able to enjoy a meal together. He said there was a big difference between having a Bar-B-Q and being able to leave after a couple hours and having his ex-wife stay a week in our home. I guess he's right.
Initially, I told the most wonderful man in the world that I might feel uncomfortable if I were to go to bed and he remained in the living room with Erin (his ex-wife). He respected that. After a day or so, any hint of anxiety on my part had vanished. She is in as much love with her husband as I am with mine. That and she told me that I am able to give something to my husband that she never could. After looking at pictures, she said," He looks happier with you than he ever did with me." Isn't that so nice?
At one point, I asked Erin how she felt about the situation. We agreed that a year ago, this past week would not have been able to happen. It took her marrying a man with two children for her to understand what it's like rearing someone else's children. Later, over a quiet lunch, she and I had a moment of truth. I told her of a particular event that really got under my skin and she acknowledged that it was inappropriate and apologized.
And then, she said the most wonderful thing. The reason for her visit was to witness our son's high school graduation, but I made her trip.
Frankly, I was sad to see her go.
When she appeared with her suitcase in tow, I wasn't sure how to act. Do I give her a hug or do I simply say, Welcome? What to do? What to do? I went with the hug. And at that moment, things were fine.
During the trip back to the house, she and I became friends. Over the course of the week, we laughed, chatted, shopped, drank and ate together. Onlookers would never suspect that we were the ex-wife and new wife.
We spent the better part of one day just sitting on the couch talking. We talked and talked and talked. We talked about old times, current times, and future times. Then, I broke out the old family photographs of when she was still the wife and the children (our son turns 18 today) were little kids. Lots of baby pictures and early childhood pictures. There were even a few pre-children pictures. When a photograph of my husband's "Love Machine" surfaced, she mentioned that the back seat was where she lost her virginity. Hmmmm, a little detail that I had not been privy to. We laughed at silly pictures and talked about old friends of hers which are new friends of mine.
Another day, and I showed her the scrapbooks I have compiled during my marriage. We laughed and joked and had a grand time. She and I, both being scrapbookers, shared ideas and techniques of memorializing our families' histories.
The big Oak Express moments (That's not natural) came when we were trying to decide what to wear to our son's high school graduation. How many ex-wives and new wives share clothes and try on each other's shoes? In spite of the weirdness of our situation, we had a fabulous time.
My husband, understandably, felt awkward. I had to remind him that early in our relationship, he had expressed interest in achieving a cordial relationship with her and her new family (three years ago, there was NO CHANCE of that EVER happening) and perhaps being able to enjoy a meal together. He said there was a big difference between having a Bar-B-Q and being able to leave after a couple hours and having his ex-wife stay a week in our home. I guess he's right.
Initially, I told the most wonderful man in the world that I might feel uncomfortable if I were to go to bed and he remained in the living room with Erin (his ex-wife). He respected that. After a day or so, any hint of anxiety on my part had vanished. She is in as much love with her husband as I am with mine. That and she told me that I am able to give something to my husband that she never could. After looking at pictures, she said," He looks happier with you than he ever did with me." Isn't that so nice?
At one point, I asked Erin how she felt about the situation. We agreed that a year ago, this past week would not have been able to happen. It took her marrying a man with two children for her to understand what it's like rearing someone else's children. Later, over a quiet lunch, she and I had a moment of truth. I told her of a particular event that really got under my skin and she acknowledged that it was inappropriate and apologized.
And then, she said the most wonderful thing. The reason for her visit was to witness our son's high school graduation, but I made her trip.
Frankly, I was sad to see her go.
Friday, May 27, 2005
Way too early in the morning for my own good.
Sometimes my mind wonders. One thought leads to another then to another and then the next thing I know, I'm wide awake at 4 o'clock in the morning wondering why I can't sleep.
I realize it has been several days since I updated my blog with new and improved adventures, but here's the thing: online journals get read by others. It's one thing to ramble on and on in a private journal and a completely different thing to put those same thoughts on the internet. If I were to have a beef with a friend and wanted to write about how much she got under my skin and then have her read about it just isn't productive. I know my friends and family read my blog. Sometimes private thoughts are private. If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. --There, that's my explanation for my absence.
Of course, there's always the very personal and intimate items that, quite frankly, are nobody's business. Suppose I was afflicted with a particular ailment that I wanted to write about, complain about and basically emotionally purge from my mind, but didn't want my friends and family to necessarily know about. If I were to have an incredibly painful zit on my butt which generated irritability because I can't sit without a sharp jab in the gluts, my friends just don't need to know about that. Afterall, I have an image to uphold. I can't have folks knowing about the colony of fleas residing in my carpets or the seeping lesions festering on my backside. Okay, for those of you raising eyebrows right about now, these are merely examples to illustrate my dilemma.
On the other hand, some days are simply uneventful. One day blends into the next and before you know it, two weeks have gone by. There just haven't been that many adventures in my life as of late. But, as the end of our three year tour in Germany comes to a close and I add task after task to the list of things to do, tiny pop quiz adventures are becoming more frequent.
Like trying to purchase a house online. That's been an experience and not one I can recommend. I would suggest actually going to the properties and seeing them first hand. The process of elimination, I suspect, would be less complicated. The added factor of being 7 hours ahead of the realtor doesn't benefit the situation. After browsing through the assortment of online photographs and emailed questions and answers, another buyer has beaten us to the contract negotiations. The stress is starting to get to me. We are now down to choosing between a house that isn't finished being built (and won't be for several weeks after we need to take up residence) or a beautiful house, which shares a property line with a cemetery. Frankly, being the Halloween enthusiast that I am, I have no issue with the neighbors. I suspect they're quite and tend not to partake in hosting the social gathering of the year, although.... folks would by dying to visit.
So, in the next 3 weeks, I have extended family coming to visit, a son graduating from high school, an ex-wife is coming for the graduation, the necessary sorting of household baggage and hold baggage, the tossing out of the unneeded and unwanted stuff that has been collected over the last three years, the purchasing of a home, the packing and shipping, the journey to the United States with three dogs, and all the other millions of things that will pop up. Phew....
I realize it has been several days since I updated my blog with new and improved adventures, but here's the thing: online journals get read by others. It's one thing to ramble on and on in a private journal and a completely different thing to put those same thoughts on the internet. If I were to have a beef with a friend and wanted to write about how much she got under my skin and then have her read about it just isn't productive. I know my friends and family read my blog. Sometimes private thoughts are private. If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. --There, that's my explanation for my absence.
Of course, there's always the very personal and intimate items that, quite frankly, are nobody's business. Suppose I was afflicted with a particular ailment that I wanted to write about, complain about and basically emotionally purge from my mind, but didn't want my friends and family to necessarily know about. If I were to have an incredibly painful zit on my butt which generated irritability because I can't sit without a sharp jab in the gluts, my friends just don't need to know about that. Afterall, I have an image to uphold. I can't have folks knowing about the colony of fleas residing in my carpets or the seeping lesions festering on my backside. Okay, for those of you raising eyebrows right about now, these are merely examples to illustrate my dilemma.
On the other hand, some days are simply uneventful. One day blends into the next and before you know it, two weeks have gone by. There just haven't been that many adventures in my life as of late. But, as the end of our three year tour in Germany comes to a close and I add task after task to the list of things to do, tiny pop quiz adventures are becoming more frequent.
Like trying to purchase a house online. That's been an experience and not one I can recommend. I would suggest actually going to the properties and seeing them first hand. The process of elimination, I suspect, would be less complicated. The added factor of being 7 hours ahead of the realtor doesn't benefit the situation. After browsing through the assortment of online photographs and emailed questions and answers, another buyer has beaten us to the contract negotiations. The stress is starting to get to me. We are now down to choosing between a house that isn't finished being built (and won't be for several weeks after we need to take up residence) or a beautiful house, which shares a property line with a cemetery. Frankly, being the Halloween enthusiast that I am, I have no issue with the neighbors. I suspect they're quite and tend not to partake in hosting the social gathering of the year, although.... folks would by dying to visit.
So, in the next 3 weeks, I have extended family coming to visit, a son graduating from high school, an ex-wife is coming for the graduation, the necessary sorting of household baggage and hold baggage, the tossing out of the unneeded and unwanted stuff that has been collected over the last three years, the purchasing of a home, the packing and shipping, the journey to the United States with three dogs, and all the other millions of things that will pop up. Phew....
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