Showing posts with label moving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moving. Show all posts

Sunday, February 21, 2010

The best laid plans

What is it again that paves the road to hell? Best laid plans? Good intentions? Whichever, because I have all of that stuff in SPADES. Tomorrow, my sister and I are taking four children, two minivans, one mother and 800 cubic yards of supplies (ramen noodles, bubbles, peanut butter, etch-a-sketches and wine, along with a few other, less important things) to the coast, where we will meet up with two aunts to enjoy the February weather and the sand and surf. While we are gone, Lloyd will be moving about a million pounds of furniture, ripping up carpet, tearing out the hideous asbestos-laden tile underneath it, and refinishing the fir floor that is the bottom layer. What could possibly go wrong?

Oh, AND I have two giant boils for which I cannot receive medical attention unless I waste a half a day at the emergency room because after four business-hour phone calls, multiple web attempts, three emails and an aborted 'live chat', we have so far been unable to change our medical benefits to the appropriate status so that I can go to a regular doctor. Or at least one that is desperate or altruistic enough to accept the poor substitute for health care coverage that is foisted on military families. This is called 'Tricare', if you are lucky enough to be unfamiliar with it. I could, of course, go to a military facility. The question is, do I want to die at the hands of a military quack, or would I rather keel over and have a stroke from the skyrocketing blood pressure associated with trying to even SEE a civilian quack? Or just wait and die from the untreated boils? It sure is great to have so many choices. I'm tempted to put up a poll so you guys can help me make up my mind but I think I better go to bed. I can't be sure but I think I might possibly be starting to get just the slightest bit irrational, and that's no good when you're trying to make such major decisions. Or when you're setting out on the highway to hell. There's plenty of time for that when we get there. See you in a week or so! If I'm not dead, I mean. Of course. But if I am I will be so totally pissed if you don't all come to my funeral. Now I'm starting to scare myself. You can't really die from boils, right? RIGHT? Okay, I'm going to bed for real this time. I mean it. Right now. Goodnight.

What, are you still here? I said I was going to bed, and I meant it. Seriously.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

The Longest Birthday





Geez, where to start? Not at the beginning, that's for sure. It bores me half to death just thinking about it. Maybe with the pictures. I tried to put them in chronological order but this stupid program rearranges them randomly, as far as I can tell. SO, the one of the truck is the first glimpse of our very own moving truck taken out of our former dining room window. It was a glorious sight, let me tell you. Then the boys sitting on a packed box in our former living room, then the boys in our former hotel room, then Shane in the snow on our former sidewalk on our last day at Osan.

Missing photos include our last meal at our former Chili's, our enormous pile of bags, our sumptuous feast at the McDonald's at the Tokyo Airport, and our luxurious United Airlines accommodations. I had intended to document all these important milestones, of course, but I lost my camera somewhere between the last trek in the snow and the enormous pile of bags and have just now unearthed it, so sadly, these few will have to suffice.

Our trip was long but relatively uneventful. It was my birthday, you know. It was my birthday when I got up at 4:45 a.m. (note: military time has been retired here at Stories from Korea). It was my birthday at 5:30 p.m. when we left Japan. It was my birthday after we flew for 8.5 hours and arrived on the west coast at approximately 9 a.m. It was my birthday when the boys crashed at 6 p.m. And when they woke up at 10:34 p.m. for about 4 hours? STILL MY BIRTHDAY. I milked it for all it was worth: 'Honey, Shane has to poop. Can you take him while I eat these fries? It's my birthday, you know'; 'Honey, you sit next to that guy with the typhoid because it's my birthday and I don't want to die today'; and 'Don't forget it's my birthday, can I have your drink? I dropped mine on the floor all over your backpack.' Not much, I know, but I have always been a take-what-I-can-get kind of girl.

It wouldn't have been quite such a long birthday had we been able to fly direct from Seoul and not change in Tokyo, but we had to fly United instead of Korean Air, and United doesn't go direct. Lloyd and I were both apprehensive and with good reason. Me because United Breaks Guitars, and Lloyd because he really likes the lithe Asian babes that are the flight attendants on Korean Air. There's like a million of them and they're there to help you out at the drop of a chopstick. United, not so much. The cabin crew consisted of a stooped old crank who closely resembled one of those grumpy old man Muppets, and a woman who had to have been Miss Dairy Maid of 1942. Instead of fetching us hot towels and cunning little toys for the boys, they strung up some kind of curtains over six rows of seats and closeted themselves for hours. But they did rally to give us the most vile breakfast I've ever seen, and I'm pretty old, and a product of public education. Lloyd's descriptions would be MUCH less flattering than mine, so don't even think about asking him.

But now we're done, and here we are. I still can't believe it. Happy Birthday to me!

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Giddy

I am giddy, my friends. Giddy with delight and sleep deprivation after the long, strange trip home. It was not without incident, of course, and I am just itching to tell you all about it. But alas, not tonight. I should have done it earlier, but I couldn't resist the siren song of the Goodwill and I blew all my writing time buying shirts without dryer holes and completely unnecessary toys.

So, that's all for tonight- I'll try to post the rest tomorrow, and if you don't like it, you can just shut it. You know who you are. Helen and Lauren, that's so everyone else knows who you are too.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Moving Day Photos (not for the squeamish)


I found my camera and was moved to put up a few pictures after I dumped the toaster upside down to empty the crumbs. Note the telephone for scale.

The other picture was taken in the part of the house formerly known as the dining room, and is of the pile of stuff that the movers are NOT taking. We hope.


Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Sporadic

Hey everyone,

Just a little public service announcement: Stories from Korea will be kind of sketchy at best and non-existent at worst for the next few weeks as we get packed up and move, at which point they will become equally ridiculous stories from the USA. The blog name and URL will remain the same for now. I'll try to spare you all a future sob sister post about how much I will miss all my Osan friends but I can't make any promises. Smell you later, Osan!

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Sometimes

Sometimes when people update their blog, they have exciting news to share. Sometimes they have a fun list of new blogs to for their friends and readers. Sometimes they have words of wisdom for those who might be considering a liver or colon cleanse. And sometimes, the same old post at the top of their blog is driving them insane and they have no good ideas so they have to post whatever ridiculous foolishness spews out of their fingertips. Not wanting to be one of THOSE people, I thought I would give the other ideas a shot.

Exciting News: Today I purchased a carton of half and half that has an expiration date that comes AFTER the day we leave here. I have been waiting for this day FOREVER! It's ultra-pasteurized, of course, but STILL.

New Blogs: We all know I am a blogaholic and I am ALWAYS looking for new blogs to read. If you have one I don't already read or know of some I might like, please share in the comments. And here are some new ones I've been reading lately:





Liver Cleanse: This is the most disgusting thing I have ever heard. And I live in Korea. With two small sons. And a pilot. How does this sound for funsies?Fast for a day or two, then drink a bunch of epsom salts in water and olive oil mixed with grapefruit juice, then check out your poop for green globules that are supposed to be cholesterol and/or toxins from your liver. Ummm, epsom salts! You can find out the whole truth here, but if you don't want to read all the gross details, I'll give away the secret. The excreted green globules are actually the result of ingesting large amounts of olive oil mixed with grapefruit juice! And, if you are really brave, check out the colon cleanse post. Here's a handy tip: unless you are Elvis Presley or Lindsay Lohan, your liver and colon do a very nice job of cleansing themselves and they will thank you for leaving them alone to do it in peace. Oooh, or Dick Cheney. I'm betting he could use some help with his colon because there is for sure something up there. I think it might be a giant stick, though. The cleanse would probable be overwhelmed when presented with Dick's colon, and my dad always says to take the time to find the right tool for the job. This one definitely calls for a chainsaw. Or a skidder.

Sunday, January 3, 2010

Sprung


So! I hope you are all having a fabulous new year. I am not a fan of resolutions, but I HAVE been trying to eat a little better and exercise more for several weeks now. The 'Osan 15' is a common phenomena here, so I am right in the thick of things. Well, let me rephrase that: I have heard rumors that perhaps I am not the only one carrying around a few extra margaritas, but I have seen no such evidence on any of my slim and statuesque friends, acquaintances or assorted Osan beauties. In any case, soon I will be in the land of Target and Goodwill and I will be ever so sad if I can't fit into the ratty cargo pants of my choice fifty-three times a week when I need to go shopping.

Tonight, Lloyd and I went to the BX and Chili's, which is the standard big night out on the town here at Osan. I sucked down my fair share of wings and a couple of margaritas, varying the position of the straw so as to cleverly avoid the tequila abrasion. When we got home, I virtuously pounded out some sit-ups, dips, push-ups, leg lifts and stretches. Don't I sound ATHLETIC? Hahahahaha, I totally have you fooled. You should see me, for real. Oh, how you would laugh. After that strenuosity, I didn't want to 'run' the stairs, so I jumped on the mini-trampoline for a while. And by 'a while', I mean about 2.5 minutes. But at least I wasn't smoking deep-fried twinkies, right? Hmmm, I wonder if anyone has tried that?

While I was jumping, Weston weighed in:

Weston: Mama, are you sure that trampoline is strong enough for you?
Me: Yes, I'm sure (pant, gasp)
Weston: Well, those springs have to work awfully hard. You're so HEAVY.
Me: It's fine.
Weston: But look how much they're moving! They go almost to the ground!
Me: Grrrrrrrrrr (pant, gasp)

Bring on the twinkies! I might as well load up; I'm going to die soon anyway. I didn't used to be so fatalistic but I recently had a VERY interesting conversation with Shane. He likes to rub my scars, scabs and rough skin with his grubby little paws. Yesterday he was trying to pick at a spot on my chin, and when I told him to stop, he replied, 'I'll pick your owies WHEN YOU'RE DEAD'. I'm not sure what he has planned but I might as well give up the jumping for the good of trampolinekind everywhere, since my days are numbered. I can see the headlines now: 'Police Baffled by Mysterious Scab Free Corpse; Trampolines Rejoice in Streets'. I just hope they don't try to pin it on the poor twinkies.



Friday, December 4, 2009

Chores

As you must surely be aware by now, Stories from Korea is an EXCELLENT place to get your handy household tips: parenting, cleaning, cooking, jewelry design and the like. I take this responsibility very seriously, indeed. Did I say 'responsibility'? I meant 'privilege', of course.

Our departure from Korea is getting ever closer. So close now that using months is meaningless, and a smallish number of days/weeks remain. Naturally, there are many, many things to do to get ready for our move, and I have been trying very hard to make sure that I am wasting my time doing jobs that will stay done rather than wasting my time doing work that will have to be done again tomorrow, or later today, such as dishes, laundry, cooking and bathing children.

This policy allows me to spend my time wisely, and gives me some unique opportunities. Think about it. Wouldn't you love to take that annoying ambulance with the ear-piercing siren that a so-called friend gave your kids and those holey sweatpants your husband insists on wearing every single day, and the book that will make you kill someone if you have to read it one more time (I'm talking to you, Toby's Alphabet Walk) and put them all in a giant trash bag, toss it in a dumpster and LEAVE THE COUNTRY? Oh, and the little pieces of toy sets that are scattered willy-nilly all over the house, the vase you've always loathed, the muffin pan with rust spots, and those pants that never fit right? Oh yeah, baby, buh-bye! And I have the perfect response if anyone starts asking nosy questions: 'Oh, no, Darling, it must have been lost in the move. Such a shame.' BWAHHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAH!!!!!!!!!!!!

Seriously, everyone should move away from Korea. I highly recommend it. And now, I must run. I'm out of trash bags and that simply will not do.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Eye can read!


Today I had to haul myself out into the windy cold, all the way across the street to the clinic to see the eye doctor. I have been having to zoom the computer screen in two times lately to do my required daily blog reading and annoy my friends on Facebook.

While I was waiting for Lloyd to come home from work so I could go, I noticed a creepily lifelike stuffed cat lying on the floor. This is not unusual at all, of course; there are many, many things of every shape and kind on the floor all the time. But instead of kicking it aside like I normally would have, I looked down at it and had an intriguing thought.

Would people think I was crazy if I took it to the eye doctor with me? Regular people that don't read my blog, I mean. If I carried it and talked to it? Exactly how nutty would I have to act around here to make people think I was truly crazy? This is a small base; it wouldn't take long for word to get around that I finally lost it. And then what? Well, you've all heard of Corporal Max Klinger, right? You might remember the ridiculous lengths he went to to try to prove to the Army that he was crazy so they would send him home from Korea. I should have thought of this AGES ago!

Off I went to the eye doctor with my brain churning. The doc was a perky little guy, probably not even old enough to remember M*A*S*H, or to remember when only Big Bird could see Snuffy. I'm sure he's plenty smart; he can probably spot a glaucoma a mile away, but he looks young and naive. Just what I'm looking for. He says that I need reading glasses. I say, 'HAVE YOU MET MY CAT, DOC?'

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Another One Bites the Dust

Lloyd and I often sit out on our deck at night, drinking wine and watching people go by. We have a prime location, overlooking the sidewalk on the main drag and the dog walking area, and if we sit out there long enough, all of Osan will walk by.

Last night, one of my lovely friends walked by and said she was flying out today. I knew she was leaving soon, but around here it doesn't pay to keep track of exactly who is leaving when, because it is just too, too depressing. See, everyone wants to leave themselves, but no one wants to see their friends go. The one thing everyone misses about this place is our wonderful and close community. Most of us will never again live in a place where dozens of friends will happily and without notice swap childcare, loan you eggs, share dinners, stop by for a chat, or go for a walk.

Now it's almost my turn, ladies. I'm packing up boxes and getting ready for the last Halloween in Korea, the last Thanksgiving in Korea, and the last Christmas in Korea. The coffee filter countdown is under 100. But I don't want to say goodbye to any of you; I'll just see you on Facebook.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

My life in cats

It's Chusok weekend here in Korea. If you're interested in Korean holidays, you can read a little about it here. It's kind of like a Korean Thanksgiving, only I doubt there are any apocryphal stories about ill-prepared immigrants and naively friendly natives. Even if there are, they are all written in Hangul, so I wouldn't know the difference, now would I?

Despite my complete ignorance of Korean culture, I'm game for participation in the local holidays, and today I am thankful for cats. Starting today, we are lucky enough to be cat-sitting the beautiful Mishka, who is one of our upstairs neighbors. Her family, who has not been here very long, has embarked on a two-week multi-destination trip back to the states, and I cannot decide if I should envy them or feel sorry for them, or both. But either way, today I have been thinking about all the cats I have loved and lost. Here they are, in roughly chronological order:

Charlie- I got Charlie when he or she was a kitten and I was a small child. The mother cat lived in my Aunt Luella and Uncle Butch's barn and I had my choice of kittens. Unfortunately, Charlie and I did not have long together; the cat had some sort of seizure and dropped dead in my arms shortly after. It's a wonder I wasn't scarred for life, don't you think?

Smoky- My dad found Smoky tied up in some trees in the woods near where we lived, and cut him down and brought him home. He was a beautiful big gray cat who liked to yowl and car surf. One morning he rode off on my dad's car and never returned.

SillyBilly- My dad found SillyBilly, a beautiful calico cat, when she was a kitten. He's always been a little vague about the details of this late night acquisition, but my sister and I were thrilled the next day when we got up and found our new pet. You know, I'm getting a little suspicious of these mysterious cat-finding trips of his, now that I think about it. Anyway, she lived with us for quite a while until she got hit by a car down the street and was returned to us in a cardboard box by one of the neighbors.

Fluffer- Fluffer was the son of SillyBilly and was a fluffy black cat. He was very mellow and would let us dress him up, but I don't remember what happened to him. I think he just disappeared.

Chebosco- Chebosco was a male orange and white cat, and I don't know where he came from or where he went. That's funny, because I really liked him. You know, now I'm getting a little suspicious of these unexplained cat disappearances and might need to have a little chat with my dad.

Katie and Kelly- When I got out of high school, I worked in a pet store for a year or so before I went to college. I should totally write a post about that place because it had everything: flashers, larceny, pathological liars, and mud puppies. One day, a kid brought in these two teeny tiny siamese kittens and said his male cat had dragged them home. They were only two or three weeks old, and I took them home and we bottle-fed them until they were strong and healthy enough to eat cat food. Katie, the boy cat, was always glossy and a little wild- he moved around my parents' neighborhood for years until finally they didn't see him anymore. Okay, now I'm definitely going to talk to my dad about this. I just hope he doesn't have some cat-fur quilt hidden in his closet or something. Kelly, the girl cat, had an obsession with pushing her paws into things and was a big licker. She was always sickly, probably because she was bottle-fed formula instead of breastfed, and died fairly young.

Lewis and Clark- After Lloyd and I got married and moved to Pensacola, the first thing we did was adopt Lewis and Clark. Their original names were Tyler and Cassie, and they were not related but had bonded deeply in their foster home. Clark (formerly known as Tyler) was an old male orange and white cat, and Lewis (formerly Cassie) was a sweet, younger, long-haired gray and white female cat. We had a pleasant, but short-lived relationship with both of them. Well, I did anyway. Clark didn't care for Lloyd, and the feeling was mutual. He moved in with the neighbors, much to Lewis' dismay, and soon died of feline leukemia. Lewis liked to follow us on walks through the neighborhood, and one day she followed us down the street, then peeled off to investigate something. When we returned, she was laying dead on the street. I was very traumatized by this and embarked on some immediate retail therapy. One of my purchases was a bright red leather tote bag by Kenneth Cole. I carried it for months and called it my 'dead cat tote'. People looked at me strangely, but that's never bothered me, and it made me feel lots better. After Hurricane Katrina, I donated the dead cat tote, along with my entire work wardrobe, to hurricane victims who were trying to relocate and start new jobs. I hope it helped somebody else as much as it helped me. I got some additional cheer out of it, because it was a splendid tax deduction. Thanks, Lewis!

Bella (pictured, above)- I got Bella as a kitten from someone at work shortly after Lewis died. An email message was going around about kittens available for adoption and one of them was a calico, like SillyBilly. I wanted that one, but it was already taken. I decided to get one anyway, and picked out Bella. Her name is Bella because I wanted something derived from SillyBilly and chose a girlish version of Billy. She is kind of a strange cat, not super friendly, and she hated Lloyd on sight. One day, when she wasn't very old, she didn't come home and we started looking around the neighborhood. We didn't have any luck, but a day or two later she hobbled home. We took her to the vet and found that she had two broken legs. Apparently this is a common cat injury when they get hit by a car. The car strikes them, breaking the leg on the car side, then they get tossed down the street, breaking bones on the other side. After several very expensive surgeries, with pins and everything, Bella was almost good as new. When we left Shreveport for Korea, we decided to leave her with some Catholic friends there. They immediately took her to family pet night at their local parish and had her blessed with the special water, and she still lives there happily in holy catrimony.

And that's the last of the cats. For now. As soon as we get to a place where we can have cats again, we are loading up. Don't worry, I plan to keep a VERY close eye on my dad.


Thursday, September 17, 2009

Envy

It's a dang good thing I think I look good in green, because I'm jealous of lots of things: blogs that are cuter than mine, people whose jeans aren't constantly on the verge of revolt, and people who don't have ziploc baggies of molding bread in their laundry rooms. Mostly I can stand it, barely, but today, I left drool marks all over my 'dining room' window.

Behold: here's the scene from a lucky someone's moving day. It's a little hazy, between the saliva and the ever-present small particle pollution, but you can still clearly see those big brown boxes of kimchi pots and knockoff purses eagerly awaiting their trip out of Korea, never to return. We started moving in our hearts and minds, and out of our storage room months ago, but things aren't progressing quite fast enough for me. It's sort of like being pregnant with an elephant. Not that I would know, no matter what it looked like.

We have made a list of all the last things we want to do in Korea, and we have been faithfully checking them off. Purchase Kimchi pots, check! Purchase Korean kitchen sink (this one was totally Lloyd, I'm sure you realize), check! Next on the list is the DMZ tour. Now, I'm extra-specially careful not to broadcast my movements in advance or share information that would come in handy for North Korean terrorists, so details later. And you can rest assured, your dirty little Osan secrets are safe with me!


Wednesday, September 2, 2009

New

After a long and distinguished career as an Air Force spouse, I will be retiring in the spring with the treadmarks from Uncle Sam's boots still on my ass everlasting gratitude of my country and a miniscule small barely adequate if I was a German Sheperd pension. We will be moving to the Puget Sound area, and Lloyd will have to find a job so we have food. Let's face it: no one ever got rich off the military. Except Dick Cheney, of course, and he only eats elderly nuns, crippled children and wide-eyed kittens. I hear he likes the kittens best because he loves to suck the juice out of their eyeballs and spit the skins at the crippled children just before he crunches their bones between his teeth. It's probably just one of those internet rumors, though. Like the one about my stripper pole. Sheesh, don't people have better things to do than make up ridiculous stories and spread them around the internet?

Anyway, Lloyd would like to work as a pilot, but we recently read a stories about these guys, so I'm not sure how well that's going to work out. I mean, only so many pilots can work the street corners in one town before they start having turf wars, right? I can just see them strutting down the sidewalks in their most enticing uniforms, pushing and shoving each other to get to the best prospective employers: 'Hey, Mister! Over here! I'll take you around the world! Satisfaction guaranteed!'

Major economic indicators at Osan (knockoff bag and pirated video sales) are strong and unchanged from the time of our arrival here. Back in Seattle, where the intellectual property theft that drives the economy is lost to the annals of history instead of parading itself on every street corner, apparently the conditions are not quite so rosy, and it might be a while before Lloyd finds a job. Before you get all huffy, yes, I could work and leave Lloyd home with the boys. We did talk about that but we agree that it's better if he works for money instead of me. Plus my main skills these days are tapping and producing milk, and there's not much of a market for those. But there totally SHOULD be. I have an awesome idea for building a human milk factory but I can't seem to find any investors.

In light of our upcoming reality, we are doing some things differently now. We're practicing for the days to come when we have to make Christmas presents out of empty beer cans and tape and play with boogers instead those spendy thrift store toys. We have stopped throwing away diapers after only one use, and for dessert we make the boys lick the old popsicle juice and applesauce spatters off the walls. And I only go to the thrift store on bag sale day. Oh, okay, that one's a lie. I would NEVER skip the thrift store just to save a little money.

But the big exciting change is meal planning. For every day in September, I have plans for both lunch and dinner. Some days I have complete meals figured out but I still have some holes to fill. People claim you can save tons of money on groceries by doing this because you buy just what you need to make your pre-planned meals instead of throwing things willy-nilly into the cart. I'm not sure who these 'people' are but maybe they're on to something here.

I'll keep you posted as September progresses. Tonight is lime cilantro chicken. I have no recipe, but I figure I'll just make one up and enter it in the Pillsbury bake-off contest and win the million dollars. Who knew meal planning could be so lucrative? I just need to incorporate some refrigerated dough of the appropriate brand and come up with a snazzy name. I think 'Island Chicken' has a nice ring to it. I could put it on sticks and bake it with the biscuit dough, sort of like a Cuban corn dog.

That's the news from the kitchen in Korea! And, Lloyd's your man if you're looking for a pilot to take you on a wild trip. In an airplane, I mean.

Saturday, August 1, 2009

Moving on out

Do you know what this picture is? Do you? This is Lloyd hauling some stuff out of our storage room in extremely early preparation for our move. We didn't really plan to start moving today; it just seemed like a good idea. Here's how it happened:

Lloyd: Hey, we haven't grilled at all this year.
Me: Yeah, I was just thinking maybe we should move the grill off the deck so we have more room out there; it's pretty cramped.
Lloyd: Should we put it in the storage room? I'll have to move some stuff around in there.
We investigate storage room.
Me: A lot of that stuff goes to the thrift store. You could take it right now.
Lloyd: Yeah, okay. Hey, we don't need that Christmas tree, do we? And what about that car seat? Let's get rid of all of it! We're moving soon anyway.
We fill up the hallway with piles of crap.
Lloyd: Can I take those broken cabinet doors?
Me: No! I need those. For a project.
Lloyd rolls his eyes, then hauls junk out of the hallway for a very long time.

So all of this might make you think we are moving soon. And we are, if by soon, you mean long, interminable months from now. How many months, you might wonder. The answer is: So many that to write it will just depress me beyond words. Where are you moving to, you might wonder. The answer is: We have no idea! Does this make the time pass even more slowly? The answer is: Yesssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss. But at least we have a roomy deck and a clean storage room. And the thrift store has another pile of crap. All's well that ends well, I always say.