ProseKnitic – of Words und Wolle

Since my Canon 7D developed a hiccup while in Chicago and needs to visit the camera hospital, I pulled out my older Rebel XTI. Taking some shots of various knitting, I set the camera to download to my hard drive and wandered off. Heading back a few minutes later with a cup of tea, I was astonished to find the job still incomplete. It wasn’t a dozen or so pictures on the memory card, it was hundreds.

Not taken by me, it was obvious that most of these had been taken by the Mole. What is more, it seems like 2010 was the year. There were photos of Norway, there were photos from the Tall Ship Races, there were photos from his short stint at RIT. When the download was complete I wandered downstairs to hand him the chip and card reader.

“Found some photos that I think belong to you – Midnight Sun, Tall Ship Parade, that sort of thing”

He had thought they were lost, gone for good. I promised to go through the rest of the cards that have been tucked into the corner of my camera bag.

I wonder if I will find any more to compare with this –

Shai!

Since this was not a really exciting day (we went out and bought pj’s) I thought it was about time to share pictures of the place. Not exactly all set up or organized pictures since these were taken a few days ago, but still they are pictures.

Exposed brick walls, hard wood floors, a lot of built in storage and, for some reason, a mirror backing on the interior partial wall which encloses off a den space. The Gwen is thrilled at having another dog in the place with her but has not yet figured out why that golden retriever won’t share toys and seems to do exactly the same as her, even dropping things.

Which means that after all that hard work, Gwen has found a comfortable location out of the way, underneath the breakfast bar in which to tuck herself.

tucked into her corner

Moving on – walking into the place right now you get a lovely expanse of window, wall, polished floors and open space.

living and dining area

The kitchen area is on the left hand wall as you enter, once past the small coat closet and the two utility cupboards.

kitchen wall and living area

I didn’t photo the den space, the bathroom or the built in storage along the hall going down the right hand hall toward the sleeping space. Courtesy of some friends (college roommate of George’s, truth be told) we have been sleeping on a double layer full size air bed for the last few days.

temp sleeping solution

And then I mentioned the bedroom closet?

built-ins

Some of us are organized, and others less so. At home I have gotten to the point where I try to be very careful about wallet and keys since it annoys me, much less everyone else when leaving the house turns into a large production.

There was a lot of snow today and ice on the roads. Now 19F (about -10C) doesn’t bother me all that much since growing up in Minnesota teaches you about cold weather, preparedness and the value of hats and gloves. We even started the day with a plan. Get it together (have breakfast, get stuff together, get the dog out and get into the car), head to Evanston to pick up my cousin’s son (now, technically he is also a cousin. If I want the clear relationship, I ask Beverley who is an expert on these kinds of things. Never the less, even though he is the son of my first cousin, I think of him as a nephew since he is the same age as my youngest.) before proceeding out to Deerfield to visit my other first cousin’s son.

I have mentioned that our family is small, right? Like I only have two first cousin’s (only one of which has children)?

Anyway, we headed up Lakeshore Drive, went turned right, drove a number of miles. Gertrude behaved herself just fine and got us to where we needed to go.

After a lovely day and evening, she even got us home and directed us to get off I94 at the Taylor Street/Roosevelt exit which puts us within five blocks of where we needed to go.

If my camera battery wasn’t being snarky at the moment, I would show you the 30+cm of scarf I started taken from Radical Change since Ms Soprano doesn’t have much in the way of decent scarves and the wind can be a bit cold here.

Oh, the bit about the pockets? I had been in possession of the second set of apartment keys since the beginning of the week and for whatever reason hadn’t seen them in days. I had taken apart the suitcases, backpacks and purses as well as check counter tops, floors and outerwear. What I had forgotten was the blazer neatly hung in the closet. The one which had bulge in the pocket when I donned it this morning.

It seems to me that my daughter could live her entire life within a mile radius of the apartment. The apartment takes care of the basics – shelter, place to sleep/laundry/shower/study/entertain/lcook/eave the dog during the day.

Columbia College falls within that mile as does the Public Library. Added to that she can get to a Dominick’s (Safeway), Whole Foods, Trader Joe’s and Jewel Osco (same corporate parent as Giant) within easy walk. Multiple Starbucks abound along with any fast food you could want. Then there is Target, multiple movie theaters, parks, museums and sports stadiums. The L is only two blocks away at Roosevelt where she can connect with the Red, Blue and Orange lines.

If you want fancy shops, just head over to State Street (one block west) and walk north. Michigan Avenue is a block east. Same thing – head a few blocks north and you are in the center of everything.

All of this was running through my mind as I was headed back to the city. It seems that accidents and slow downs are all too common. Gertrude, my friendly (?) GPS, directed me off the Kennedy when it looked like more than an hour delay. Heading across multiple streets wasn’t all that bad and following the directions got me back on the I-90 just as the traffic was starting to move.

I have no clue as to why it directed me off at Ohio. In any case I will never do that again. There is a problem with being dropped off in the middle of skyscrapers – you can lose satellite feed. If you don’t know where you are, you don’t know where to go next. Given that all Chicago drivers are insane, stopping was totally and completely out of the question. Without a clue I kept on driving.

Oh – State Street! I know State Street and it only took me three blocks to figure out that I was driving in the wrong direction. After that it was a matter of getting turned around and heading back south. Just about two blocks from 13th and Wabash Gertrude kicks back in and tries to give me directions.

Do you think I listened to her?

Ms Soprano is off at orientation.

I got to spend a fair amount of time at Hertz (O’Hare Airport) turning in the van and picking up a much smaller car. It wasn’t supposed to take very long. Except …
1) they were out of cars, so it was 45 minutes. Ok, I can live with that – I had my iPod and knitting. I also had a box of “stuff” that had been left in the van. Had not planned on leaving anything in the van. So there I sit with a box at my feet surrounded by all these elegantly dressed people with their fancy suitcases. Go figure, I just ignored them.
2) USAA forgot that I was in the US and bounced my credit card. Not a good time, glad I had a back up. Their excuse later was …. they sent me an email to request that I log on to answer their questions.

All of part two I had no clue about until end of the afternoon when I stopped in to some friends in order to get a fixed phone for an 800# call and to access email. Not like all of us always have email.

So, meanwhile, I get through Costco on a debit card (same account as the credit card) without difficulty. Go figure, I can’t.

Stopping by a friends I call USAA and they tell me about their wonderful attempts to thwart fraud on my account. I tell them about the ugliness of standing at the Hertz counter and having my credit card refused. They tell me about sending an email. I ask them why they would think I had email while traveling.

We both take a breath. I once again give them phone numbers, they once again apologize and assure me there should be no problems. Huh.

Heading back to Chicago. Have not heard from the daughter since we parted ways at her orientation. Didn’t put her number in my phone.

So I have just sent her an email with my number and asked her to call …….

The car is unloaded and I wiped out for the evening.

Gwen has more or less adjusted to the new location. She is not thrilled about boxes or being refused a place on the bed. But other than that, she is fine.

The other two of us (Nina and I) are another story – we still have a whole list of things to do and get.

She has orientation in the morning and I need to swap out the van for something a bit more reasonably priced.

It has not been a quiet year in Lake Woebegone.

I spent the first quarter of the year deployed to Afghanistan and the month of April trying to get retired out of the military with the correct paperwork. And, as you are aware, a lot of the rest of the year traveling. Not counting my AF frequent PAX terminal stops (Germany, seven different locations in Afghanistan + Kuwait) I managed to get to New Orleans, Boston, NYC, DC, VA, CA, Seattle, AK, FL  (we will not count plane changes in lovely locations like Huston). Besides Germany I can count Spain, the Canaries, Italy, Austria, France, Monoco, UK, BE, NL in Europe plus Mexico, Belize, Panama and Honduras in Central America. A lot of these just might be secondary to cruise ships but I am going to count them just the same.

The Mole did miserably in school and was unceremoniously brought back home. The Maus graduated. Ms Soprano fell, broke her foot and got to come back to German to heal complete with golden retriever.  The Eldest overcame a lot of challenges in her personal life and has motored forward with impressive equanimity.  George spent entirely too much time on the road.

This fall seemed to be more of the same. The Mole was not a happy camper, Ms Soprano spent the fall taking classes on line so that she would not lose the semester completely. She also proved that self discipline is the difference between success and not when achieving personal goals. Maus started at Pratt and successfully completed her first semester. The Eldest is an amazing photographer. Unfortunately – with the increasing sophistication of digital cameras it is harder and harder to make a decent living at it. George is looking to win an award for the most hours spent on evening conference calls in one week. So far his personal best seems to be 20+ hours.

looking out over the plain

Which takes us to this evening – friends over for dinner, 3/4 offspring actually present for the meal and then there are fireworks which normally last for 30 minutes or more.

fireworks through the trees

I wish you all the best in the coming year!

Every birthday is a milestone when you are young.

Months counted when you were really little; then quarters and halves. I think it actually takes until you are in the 20s before the halves drop away.

If you are a military brat there are two key birthdays – 21 and 23. Twenty-one is when normal adulthood strikes and you are dropped from the family payroll. If you just happen to be a military dependent and still in school working on your first degree, you can be extended until 23. At which point you turn into a pumpkin.

This particular pumpkin turned 23 today and I don’t have a photo to share. She has turned her life around in the last six months and I am terribly proud (not taking any credit – it has been her hard work and discipline).  Right after the first of the year she heads back to the US. Her and the pup.

the Gwen

The pup, who of course, knows that she is in the center of the world.

So there I am in Zurich looking to return to Frankfurt.

Since one of the other members of the Aeris crew is headed through Frankfurt on the same flight before changing planes/airlines/whatever to go home (California) I opt to take up David’s offer on sharing his cab and save a number of minutes off the Tram ride to the Airport.

He can go through the high class security rat run designed for those important enough to have gold cards. I go through the peon gate. This is Switzerland. They are precise and don’t offer courtesy to those not entitled. As it turns out, our flight is not exactly near the lounge and we meet back up in the gate area.

At boarding we part ways – he is in the front, I am just glad for a seat on the plane and to find that it is not in the last row in front of the latrines.

Frankfurt – the Lufthansa arrival lounge in Terminal “B” is for inbound international customers, not the rest of us mortals. I hang out at the USO and wait till Maus arrives.

She is easy to spot. Long blond hair, grinning face and towing frosted green suitcases. She was right on the color – nothing like it anywhere on the baggage carousel.

We make the train back with a minute to spare, change in Mannheim and are picked up by the Eldest. All happy to be home.

Several days ago – I discovered the following mess on the living room floor.

yarn, the victim

This is not exactly how I pictured trying to use these particular yarns. They were in a bag, minding their own business when they were captured, tortured and given a shaking for good measure.

Ms Soprano then was privileged, as the responsible adult, to unsnarl the whole mess.

Gwen, the guilty party

who apparently has been know to act like a feline.

Check off another year!

In honor of our anniversary, the weather today was hot. Sun shining, birds singing and the house needed cleaning.

Sometimes I wonder if any of the fundamentals of my life have changed at all.

We managed to load the car this morning chock full of things which needed to go to the recycle center. Stopping on the way, we had breakfast at Juice. Mini-omelets with tomatoes, feta and olives. Flat bread with cheese, milch kaffee and, of course, juice.

Open and airy without the echos that come with many of the modern designs, it also looks like a nice place to stop in the afternoon for a cup of tea and a bit of knitting. The service personnel are excellent and friendly (bucking also the trend trendy places needing waitstaff who sneer at customers).

Just as good as dinner last night at our favorite Thai restaurant. And that sums up the special things we did together since I am not really counting emptying out the car or sorting things in the basement storage rooms or attempting to get screens on a couple of windows.

Our evening had been preempted by a friend of George’s (dating back to the kids in the Altstadt Kindergarten) who was celebrating his 65th birthday. The salad was excellent, as was the pumpkin soup with the fresh fruit in chocolate mouse to die for.

Otherwise – I am listening to Tom Smith’s Death Sheep Radio which has a nice mix of filk, political satire and general whacky humor. The studio recordings in the play list are by far better than the live recordings, but hey – I am not complaining. I need the up as I wade through the studio which is in that horrible situation of looking worse before it gets better. I am down to the last box, I can see the window desk top and there are enough sucked dry insects to prove that spiders rule over all.

I promise pictures on Monday. Honest.

There are all these new procedures out there to make it safe and better for you.

Never mind that in the process you can go totally insane. For example – we got Social Security Cards for the kids when they were all infants. Meant that there were no problems along the way when the IRS started insisting on those very same numbers being on any tax return where you claimed said young’uns as dependants.

With the younger crew, it means we did that between 18-22 years ago. No hassles, right? And the cards were put in a safe place so that they would not get lots. I even made copies of them just in case. Fast forward to the Mole trying to do his selective service registration – first we find that you can’t do it from overseas without going to the Consulate (or, perhaps the local military passport office, but I will get to that later). While he was in the US last year, he got on line, only to find out that his SSN was “wrong.” He was reading it off his ID. What he had on his ID card did not match what we had on the IRS forms, but confusion had been introduced into the system.

Our tax records matched the Social Security Admin’s Database and the correct number is on his registration. Back to the challenges: for whatever reason, the guys never got the number fixed in the Army system. Further, banks want SSN verification prior to opening up checking/savings on young people. Using the number on his ID card obviously bounced when it was checked and he became flagged somehow.
The Army, bless their rules, were willing to take either his SSN card (we don’t have it) or his Selective Service Document as proof of the correct number and make the change. Asking them to print out a DEERS form for validation – lo and behold – DEERS now assignes a DOD ID number and no longer uses SSNs as of 1 June. Good for security (maybe) but bad in terms of validating what number the Mole really has.

(Aside here – the difference in the numbers was one digit in the middle of the last four which maybe why we never spotted it. Wrong number duplicated.)

The Military Passport office does in fact do the paperwork for Social Security Cards. They have the forms, make copies of all the supporting documents (two forms of proof of citizenship – never mind that a passport is a derivative based off the birth certificate which was the other document which was required), and sends them off to the Consultate in Frankfurt who will mail him his card sometime in the next 4-6 weeks.

Meanwhile, I am about to have another go-round with the bank. I think they should take the Selective Service paperwork since that particular organization independently verifies the SSN.

The recommendation I have for all of you is to go and check to make sure that you have the basic life documents that you need. It is much easier to get birth certificates, SSN cards, marriage licenses, death certificates, and the like when there is no pressure. Then figure out a decent filing system so that you don’t have to dig through a desk piled so high with stacks and binders that an avalanche would be inevitable. When we get that far in the cleaning – you will get a before and after photo.

It is just short of midnight. The DH and I have accomplished an incredible amount today.

We got train tickets

went to the bank

picked up Maus’s official Zeugnis translation

shopped for a wedding present

picked up groceries

bought dog food

cleaned our room completely

packed.

Never mind we didn’t start till early afternoon.

The end result is that we will head to San Francisco in the morning without being really worried about the state of the house. I managed to jam my stuff in a suitcase (covering the variety of business meetings, visiting with friends and cruising along the Alaska straights), find knitting and be almost organized enough to round up a paperback or two.

The cleaning? Well, Ms Soprano is headed back to Germany next week (golden retriever in tow which explains the dog food). Since there are already three people living downstairs in the three available bedrooms we are stuffing her in our room for the couple of weeks we are gone. There is also the small matter of her broken foot and non-weight bearing cast making stairs a real risk.

Now I am trying to get everyone wound down and headed to bed – we have a 0547 train. That means that George might just finish up the kids puzzle that got knocked over ….. and Mole is busy explaining formula 1 race cars, lift and high winds….

Not me – I went that route in April/May remember? Whacked a good 40cm of hair off by the grabbing the tail – taking the scissors and going chunk.

I am talking about the Mole. Our son, the one usually known by the hoddie pulled down over his face; the one with the really shaggy hair.

in a rare sighting

The story goes like this – the Eldest has a friend standing for her Master’s Beauticians Exam. Besides all the written components, she has multiple demonstations to perform for the examiners (cutting, styling, colors, streaks, perms). She is good – she is the one who did Maus’s hair for Saturday.

He got volunteered as Dorrie needed a young man. Dressed up because he had to model the hair cut for the examiners afterwards I dropped him off early afternoon.

This is who I picked up

he has eyes!

the young man

Miriam’s Abi Ball was last evening.

For those not familiar with Germany and its’ education system, the Abitür is what you achieve after all of your studies provided you are successful in your courses (the last two years are counted together) and pass your cumulative written and oral exams. The exams are State wide (in this case we are discussing Baden-Würtemberg) and the schedule was early this year. Maus was essentially finished with school by early June.

The Ball is a combination of graduations ceremonies and a diner with parents and friends. Yes, everyone gets quite dressed up and there can be dancing. But it is not a Prom and a date is not required. The event was held in Ludwigsburg, north of Stuttgart.

This post is picture heavy. On the blog – clicking on the picture will get you a larger version

Merz Abi - 2011

All the students arrive early (or at least were supposed to for class photos). After that we hung out (George, Noah and I) while Maus went thither and yon since she had been dropped off early as one of the organizers.

the youngest two

The program

the plan

was placed on the table with exactly what you would expect – Welcomes, speeches, various expressions of thanks. The introduction of each student was accompanied by a slide show -

Maus growing up

with all of them

lining up on the stage

there were several musical performances

performing "You've got a Friend"

The thank you’s to the faculty included roses

and a rather humorous Oscar Presentation

I think she had a good evening

Maus

They ended by releasing ballons carrying aloft wishes for the future

gathering all the graduates with their balloons

only a few of which didn’t make the sky

the Balloon Eating Tree (a la Charlie Brown)

It was a lovely night to stand outside and talk

after the balloon release

and visit with friends

before heading home, realizing that yet another milestone has been passed.

with a full moon hanging in the sky

There is a noisy bunch of old dudes – excuse me – mature men having a good time on our terrace. George celebrates his birthday every year by inviting the members of his Stammtisch (read Thursday night men’s discussion group) over to grill.

They start with snacks, wine and beer. They progress to salads, more snacks, vegetables and things from the grill (steaks, burgers) with more wine and beer. At 2200 the sun has finally dropped below the horizon and the group is more jovial with passing time and years.

the dudes relaxing - note the grey hair.....

Since he started this tradition (Maus and I think this celebration dates from the summer after we bought this house which would put it around 2002). It is a good way to celebrate. For whatever lucky reason, the weather is nicer and warmer this evening than it was this afternoon when rain with cold and grey threatened to spoil a good time.

We had an alternate plan and the living room was set up for either the initial party or whenever they chose to move inside.

Sewing

the basic skirt

Paired with the top she is planning on wearing – the skirt is done except for

all the ties on the inside so

now all the it needs

is the hemming!

Knitting

and the MTV Group which means every couple of weeks on Thursday morning has a couple of members knitting these -

a few mini mittens

We went to dinner at the Restaurant Luegeten for the birthday dinner. Situated high on the hills over looking Lake Zurich,

looking down on Lake Zurich

you can hear the cows in fields above us with traditional bells on their necks as they graze the fields.

cows with bells

If you would rather have your cows a bit more tame

and the other cow

there is always that possibility.

Unlike others –

waiting for their table

we had a reservation and were seated promptly. The evening was perfect, the weather just wonderful. I loved the company and the food was excellent. Much better in fact than either meal we had in Monaco (or Mallorca for that matter) and significantly more reasonable.

If you happen to have a few extra million Swiss Francs lying around –

Or you can own an Island

But I might much rather have this jewel -

and the old Rolls Royce

If I claimed to be a loving wife would you believe me? George turns 63 today so here I am with him in Switzerland so that he will not be alone on his birthday. Alone – with a day in the office just chocked full of people who know that today is his birthday. (birthday greetings if you want to gr AT aeris-capital DOT com . Since he is a Crackberry addict, that ought to make his day a bit more challenging, especially given the time zones).

Rather than hang out there today, I stayed in the apartment with great wifi access, a basket or two full of handwork projects and a camera loaded with the rest of the Mallorca pictures. Of course, that is about all there is here. The guys rented this place at least three, and I think really four years ago. Kitchen area which has the normal cupboards, a few dishes, fridge, microwave and coffee pot. The common area has a rectangular table with four chairs serving as both eating and work space. Additionally there is this squared edge orange couch of the IKEA variety and a small table with flat screen TV. In keeping with the low cost method of living – it is about an 18″ diagonal augmented with two old PC speakers.

Otherwise there are two bedrooms, each with a bed and a lamp. There is nothing on the walls. There are wires dangling from the ceiling because they would have to buy light fixtures if they wanted overhead lights. The closets are bare. The bathroom sports a small cabinet – each of them having a shelf.

My plan for the day is progressing nicely. I have managed finally to get the pictures for 2-3 July posted, have done the finish work on three scarves,

two cowls, one scarf

and the hand sewing on two jackets

jacket

purple shrug and flowered dress, mint green skirt

with another scarf in progress

another Volan

and the waistband of a Maus skirt to go, but I am going to take a break since we are headed out to dinner tonight!

someone is tired

The theory of my making some particular clothes for the Maus is that she puts in some time and assistance. To a large extent, this has happened. When she vanished partway through the day, I went to find her. All this clipping, pinning, snipping and ironing apparently has taken more out of her than planned.

Knitting

Just to show of totally and complete pictures of the City Sweater ….

the City Sweater

looking at 1/2 the sweater back

Books and Audio Books

I have been doing well in various Bookcrossing Virtual Book Boxes having been able to send off several books to people who are interested and picking up a few more that I would like to read. That takes care of the Dead Tree side of things. Unfortunately, Audible has another sale, so my “to be heard” queue is actually longer than my TBR pile is high. Go figure.

Ok, just in case you were wondering – there are even worse movies than the one on which I reported yesterday. The suggestion tonight (from the Father’s Day Boy) was The Kids are all Right. According to several blurbs – it was actually nominated for awards. The Mole and I looked at each other, shook our heads and wandered off. I finished up my row of knitting before leaving – he just headed downstairs into a hole without a backward glance.

I think at the heart of my disgust was that facts didn’t tract with either science or the characters protrayed in the movie. Yes, there was AF available 19 years ago, so that is not an issue. What is an issue is that anyone who got through med school at that time (plus residency) was not having children during school or training. That puts her at minimum of 30 by the time she finishes training. With all that education – she is going to pick an uneducated 19 year old sperm donor  because? I think not. Then the dude says he forgot about the whole thing. Well – to have the same bio-father for both off spring, that means multiple donations and most facilities would rather not use sperm that is 4-5 years old if there is a more recent alternative.

Off soap box; but just saying -if the basic premise doesn’t hold up, why would the rest of the story have any credibility/interest? Kind of like watching a police procedural where everyone is picking up stuff at a crime scene with bare hands and later saying that there were no figure prints of any kind found in the room or on any object. Hello?

A bit later – we suggested an alternative when the movie had been scratched in favor of the news. Sci-Fi? Cartoons? Something funny, not stupid? He was not amused and turned us down flat.

So I will have to entertain myself with another puzzle -

Three Musicians - Pablo Picasso

which, as you can tell comes from the same people as all my other favorite puzzles.

For those of you who know me quite well – the following should not be a surprise: if you ask me about – oh lets say any movie made in the last 100 years – not only will I never have seen it, I probably will not even have heard of it. My recognition of movie related people is even less.

Yes, I have heard of Tim Burton (saw exhibit in Melbourne last August) and Kubric (wan’t that 2001 – a Space Odessy) and the Coen Brothers (Fargo). Beyond that I will admit that I am ignorant and have lived my life in peaceful oneness with the universe without knowing or caring what is currently making money, getting nominated or being shown on transcontinental flights.

All of this makes the evening seem close to an out of body experience. The DH and the Mole decided that I should see The Men who stare at Goats. Now, I am a member of the hippy and Viet Nam generation. I remember treating all too many stupids who tried various assorted hallucinogenic drugs. I have been to Ft Bragg and I most certainly know a number of people in Special Forces.

(Should I mention that I spent 1991-93 answering Congressionals at the Surgeon General’s Office? At least I was spared the drug ones unless they were related to CBRNE.) But anyway, I discovered more than I ever wanted to know about stupid research programs of the 1960s. Note I said 1960s, not 1970s or 1980s or 1990s, or present day. No matter what – Ft Bragg believes in hair cuts and Nubian goats are are quite interesting as is their distribution in the world.

Having said all of that, I am still not sure why I sat through about 90 minutes of one of the strangest and most pointless movies to which I have been invited to view. It was hard to keep track of “when” the action was taking place. It was hard to visualise “where” the action was taking place (hint, sand is not sand. Different areas of the world have different colors of sand and they just about all have characteristic vegetation. The road between Nav Star and Talil has not moved in the last 25 years). The plight of a -what? late 20s early 30s – guy having an identity crisis is so far from my understanding that it left me rooting for the goats.

The movie was good for being able to knit another repeat of blocks on Chess. And as a prelude to watching Alice in Wonderland which is rated PG for the smoking caterpillar and violence. Go figure.  So I spent the evening sort of staring at the TV screen and wondering why ….

As I sat here tonight, I was trying to figure out why it seems that all four of our kids and I routinely take the Strassenbahn. We also take trains, S-Bahns and the other various modes of public transportation. We even know how to take the bus, although, since we live on the 23&24 streetcar lines, we normally don’t bother with buses.

Specifically, we don’t take cabs and most of the time we don’t expect to get picked up or dropped off.

I take that back – various assorted commuting off spring over the years have had the expectation that someone (?) was going to bail them out of the train station on Friday afternoons. Being a parent, well it falls into my job description.

After having spent most of the day on various sewing related tasks (different fabric, laying out patterns, cutting out patterns, fixing the serger and hemming table clothes), I was busy when the DH called. Something about his train was going to be five minutes late. Ok, he is coming back from Switzerland and I can stop and pick him up. Not sure why he called again since we had already set a time but hey – he is on the train and has a phone. Nuf said.

Turns out the board was empty when he reached Mannheim and he was worried that there was not going to be a way from Mannheim to Heidelberg (see bus comment above) but then the departures board flashed three trains all 30-90 minutes late going to Karlsruhe via Heidelberg so he was all set.

I pick him up, barely having time to read 10 pages of the latest Margaret Maron’s Deborah Knott’s Mystery. I start toward the house, and he asks to be dropped at his Stammtisch. Admittedly, I know it is Thursday evening and this group of guys has been getting together on Thursday evenings since the youngest three were in kindergarten. Ok, why not? I can drive from home, pick him up, drop him off and go back home.

See comment about buses – the bus runs right from the train station past Bismark Platz and turns in at the Uni Platz. That is only two blocks from Kornmarkt and the Greek Restaurant where they meet. Muttering to myself, I drive the loop, head back home, haul the suitcase and brief case to his office and go back to the sewing machine.

Two hours later, he walks into the studio. After a useful discussion about needing a shopping run in the morning (toilet paper would be really nice to have) I ask him about buses. He claims to ride the bus all the time in Switzerland; one of the few in his office who regularly uses public transportation.

But tonight? Why me? I was perfectly happy here at home, not out in the rain, not out driving in the rain. So I pick you up, take you somewhere else and then come home. You could have taken the bus. For that matter, you could have taken a cab.

He just looks at me.

Sweetie, I never would have asked you to do that. You suggested it last week, said you would be glad to make sure that I got to the Stammtisch. Don’t you remember?

Oh.

Did I tell you about my glasses? The ones five sizes too large that were made for me while I was downrange? Apparently that was the smallest size that they had and someone made the decision just to go ahead and not worry about it.

After I was back for a week, I took them into the Heidelberg Optometry shop and asked the nice young tech if they could at least be adjusted so that they would not fall off my face every time I looked down. No – not possible, they were just too big for my face. Next, they offered to get me a pair made in the right size.

Would that be ok?

Of course, and that was in March. The glasses came in and the glasses went out – mailed in spite of the fact that I carefully explained that my mail was all messed up and that they would be forwarded to Hell and back. They vanished somewhere – first to the UK and beyond that no clue. Last week of April rolls around and the other nice tech puts in a second order noting that the first went who knows where in the APO system and had not been found.

Those, too, wound up in the mail. Lost forever in my humble opinion as I wore whatever old glasses I could find around the house. I don’t think we ever throw out glasses. Put them aside maybe when a new prescription comes in but throw out? Why on earth would I do that when I might need them. It is not like I haven’t broken glasses and I can’t exactly find my way out of a wet paper bag without visual aids, much less read a book or drive a car. Well, the book I can read if it is on the end of my nose but you know what I mean. You can’t exactly do that while driving a car; stick your face in the dashboard alternating with peering out the window and asking the opinion of your white knuckled passenger.

Where was I?

Oh – glasses. Unlike the Maus

who usually wears contacts

and was on her way to Rock am Ring being that every teenager probably should go to one major multi-day rock concert just to have an appreciation of total insanity – I would be just happy with a pair of glasses that worked.

And today – I received an email from my good friend Denise. The APO guy said – I have two pairs of glasses for Holly – do you want to give them to her?

Out the door like a flash – there they were. One mailed 30 March and the other 25 April. Both kicking around in the system and showing up at the local PO after I no longer have privileges there. It is time to bake them more cookies. They could have just forwarded them on; insuring another couple of months of travel.

two pairs, simple black wire rims

All that fuss – for these.

There are those who punch a time clock working shift after shift and after shift. Not particularly thrilled about what they are doing, but recognising that earning a living is a rather important part of life.

Then there are professionals who work in offices, firmss or on trade floors. Dressed in a completely different style, they are characterised by white coats or electronic equipment or high pressure jobs. Some of the people with whom my husband works resemble this style sitting at a desk with 4-16 monitors in front of them with various reports, tickers and materials from around the world in a constantly shifting array.

Finally we come to those who can, on some days work from home. They set up their computer in a convenient location and proceed to work through emails, documents and phone calls.

comfortable on the terrace

If it all proves too stressful – there is the alternate method of taking conference calls.

on the phone - do not disturb

Remember the word/logic puzzles from when you were a kid?

Example – you have a fox, a goose and a bag of grain. Your goal is to get all three to the other side of the river without anyone eating anyone else.*

What I had was fifteen Audtiobookstand size shipping boxes (20cm x 30cm) and a slightly larger box containing two Liberty Wooden Puzzles. The car is on the street level, the house up on the hill. My choices are simple; open the garage door and haul everything into the elevator or carry the boxes up the sixty stairs.

I looked at the garage door, I looked at the stairs.

I thought of the fox, goose and bag of grain. Carrying the boxes up the stairs in groups of four shouldn’t be all that bad, right? Kind of like the grocery bag and small child relay that many of us have done with infants, shopping and living above the ground level in an apartment building.

(Prop door open – carry sleeping baby in car seat and bag of groceries to do. Run back – emptying out the car as fast as possible, both to not let the child out of your sight and to finish prior to said infant waking and screaming with displeasure.

Haul all of above inside the stair well, then repeat 1/2 flight byt 1/2 flight till you land sweating and exhausted in front of your door, just the time that the darling wakes well rested and hungary. Attempt to distract child till cold and frozen food is put away. Failing that – attempt to feed and store groceries at the same time. At last – give up, lay down with said infant and crash.

Compared to (good grief – that was over 22 years ago!) managing groceries and baby, carrying boxes up 20 steps at a time is a breeze. Much more so than figuring out where to jam the books and audiobooks on the overflowing shelves.

-Holly
Heidelberg, Germany

*there might be shorter ways – but you leave the fox and grain, taking the goose across. You come back. Take the fox across and bring back the goose. Leave the goose and take across the bag of grain. Come back and take the goose across.

Perhaps there are some people (Southerners by stereotype) who are good at figuring out familial relationships between individuals. So that, when introduced, someone might even be able to say “oh, your mother’s sister’s cousin on the “jones” side, isn’t she married to…..? and even understand the relationship.

Me, I understand first degree relatives (parents, sibs, and children) and the rest of the world. That is probably helped by the fact that I have few relatives and my children have even fewer.

Well, that is not completely true; there are also grandparents, cousins, nieces, and nephews. It is that cousin category where all of this gets me completely confused and that is before I even consider the generational issues. (Actually, the linked Wikipedia article is extremely clear.)

What has this to do with deployment? Very little, except that I am in Afghanistan trying to figure out what I want to send Andrew for his birthday. It is scary when I realized that figuring out a present for a teenage young man was easier than describing the relationship.

Background: my mother (84) was an only child. Ends pretty much all discussions of relatives on that side. My father (84) has one sister (younger than 84) and she had two children. You with me so far? I have two first cousins, one of whom has two children. Technically those two children, essentially contemporaries of Ms Maus (my youngest), are first cousins, once removed. I think. In reality, I think of them in the niece and nephew category because of their ages.

Back to the thought of presents. I finally worked out what I wanted to send him and headed for the door. Just in time to feel the building rattle from a nearby impact. Since there was no prior warning of a planned detonation, we all voted for target practice from the hills. The second impact was barely over when the Apaches launched (since they are just over the back fence it caused more window rattling). Watching the chat might just be interesting, but “donning IBA and sheltering in place” leaves me less than thrilled. It might just wind up forcing me to change choices from iTunes to Amazon!

I was going to entertain you with a long involved story about Ms Soprano involving birthdays, airplane trips and all the rest. Last year, she celebrated her 21st birthday on the flight from the US to the UK. This year – I think she is waiting a day and flying on the 19th so that she could celebrate. I might just be wrong – since I am not exactly at home this year.  She continues to do well in her music, lacking any recent photos, I will play responsible parent and not post anything old or humiliating.

So, for your entertainment this day – I will give you the legend of Tuna Bridge.

Back in 2003, Disney Drive was the same long boring bit dividing the main part of camp complete with steep ditches on both sides and few places to cross. As a result, soldiers started wearing paths into the ground next to the ditch. One fine sunny day, a LTC and a CSM were hiking along and started to jump across the ditch just like they had done so many times before. Looking down, they spotted metal sticking out of the side of the ditch. Having recently completed the “IED, watch out for suspicious stuff” course, they became immediately concerned, stopped the pedestrian traffic and reported their finding.

Now picture Disney shut down while waiting for and during the EOD response. Time goes on. EOD responded and dug up ….. an unopened can of Russian Tuna. Not long after when the bridge was constructed, it was named Tuna Bridge.

Tuna Bridge

Sept 1978, a Sunday. Got married.

Am still married.

He is good people; not looking forward to yet another deployment. What he is looking forward to is my being home for good at the end of the time. After this year, we will most likely have all of our off spring out of the house. I will be retired from the military while he still has several years let with his firm

I think I love him enough to sort out the house (which, if you have ever seen our house, is not a small task. Never mind that a huge amount of the stuff might just be my books or fiber supplies).

It might just take a year or two. I might be able to spend time in Switzerland wandering around with the camera and occasionally consulting. I might be able to use up stash. I might read a few books. I might even nag him about weight, exercise and sensibility.

After all, 32 years is hardly anything. I would like 32 more.

This is an update – but first, the background.

I wound up here in the UK in Jan 2008. A rather short notice move because of a domino effect involving a number of other people and their short notice re-assignments.

Ok, I am an Army officer. That means I salute the flag pole and move on with my life. Never mind that it means that most days the family is scattered across four countries.

My moving in assumption was that I would be here for 3-> 3 & 1/2 years to put the job back on a summer cycle. Coincidently, it would also match up with being able to hang up the kevlar and move on to new challenges.

Come last summer, my job magically appears on the “open for bid” list. Checking with the branch people, I remind them that I will not have 12 months remaining prior to retirement (criteria for re-assignment) by the time my son graduates so we had all agreed that I would not move summer 2010.

Well, gee, it seems all bets are off. Since then – like Sept – I have been in various negotiations with different of the powers that be about job choices, various possibilities, and what I want to do if I grown up.

That particular thought took only a few minutes – not ready to grow up yet.

Upshot of the whole mess is that it is now April, I leave the UK sometime the end of August and have no idea where I am going next. As of yesterday, I can officially drop my retirement papers.  Since we do not do “garden leave” it means that I would need to move everything back to Germany then go to Ft Benning en route to Afghanistan for six months.

The other option looks like it might be to extend for a couple of years, move to Monterey, drop off my stuff, go to Ft Benning en route to Afghanistan (see above) and return to work there for a couple of years.

Hummmm – no job and seeing the DH on the rare days he is in town? Job where I can toss a couple of offspring in University at in-state tuition and enjoy the California coast?

Decisions, decisions….

It was a Saturday, 17 years ago, when Ms Maus agreed to come into the world. A bit of attitude then which has altered over the years to her own bit of humor and fun. Contributing to the challenges of all (including the bother who is 2 years and one day older).