Tag: wisdom

What if we ever needed…3/4 of an Inch

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Hell froze over today. Well, since it’s so bloody hot and humid I sort of wish it actually did, but our stuff ARRIVED at 1pm today. It actually came with a phone call and three guys who could not have been nicer. I paid for their lunch afterwards. I’m not a person who has ever held a grudge. Don’t have time for it so all that nonsense was in my rear view mirror 30 seconds after the first dolly load crossed our door step.

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They found parking and unloaded in record time. As planned, we had them bring all the boxes and bikes up to our apartment and we put the sofa in our parking space in the garage. We needed to measure it before I schedule the crane service. I was on cloud nine watching them go back and forth. Emilie stayed down by the truck to make sure no one made off with any boxes while the guys were filling the lobby.

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Seeing our things again was like reconnecting with old friends. And unpacking was so much fun!  All my kitchen stuff that was of such interest to US Customs and Border control made it with only one glass pot lid that was shattered.  All my Le Creuset – check. More of my Crate and Barrel dishes – yup. All our flatware and my box of odds and ends kitchen stuff. My beloved Vitamix made it. Jeff checked the amperage (I don’t even pretend to understand it) and it works on the electricity here. We just have to take it to a local place to get the plug/cord swapped out.

My pans are here too! And our golf clubs and bikes. Jeff’s computer stuff and his keyboard that he’s been waiting for. All the tools for his first love – the motorcycle. We spent the day unpacking boxes and washing things. Our bedding from home – sheets and towels that we could have bought locally but we loved them too much to leave behind. Then there were the more sentimental things. The things that, when you surround yourself with them, make you feel like you’re truly home.

Our refrigerator magnet collection from trips we took as a family. Jeff always hated how junky it made it look in an open plan kitchen. I loved the reminder of all the things we did together. Tonight, I put them all on the fridge and he came home and smiled. Emilie and I had fun reminiscing about each one and telling funny stories about where they were purchased and some crazy thing that happened.

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The pictures came. Our wedding photo and some of the art that we had on the walls. Emilie unpacked the boxes in her room and it’s just about like it was in the US – only 5 times smaller. Her books, photos and all the small things that mean so much to her.

I unpacked the vacuum packed bags of our clothes and it seems we brought more than I remembered. I appears my ‘What if we ever…?’ philosophy might have gone a little too far. OK, if we ever go to Iceland again I have my Canada Goose parka and Jeff’s Mountain Hardwear parka. But living here I don’t think there will be a day that we’ll need either of those.

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My most egregious and embarrassing miscalculation was my discovery that I had 5 full boxes of shoes that were just for me. Luckily, Jeff had run an errand when I pulled them out of the pile in the dining room. Yeah, I knew I had a problem anyway but today it was in my face and before Jeff got home I needed to find somewhere for 5 boxes of shoes in El Compartimiento. But where to put them? The only place I had to spare was in the kitchen Gabinete and I knew the minute he got hungry I’d be ratted out. Emilie just shook her head but she wasn’t one to talk. She had 2 boxes of shoes for herself – OK, I’m a baaad influence.

So I started pulling out drawers and cabinets. I was sweating and panicked. What the hell was I going to do? I looked around and then I remembered we have drawers under the bed we bought. And those drawers are mostly covered by the duvet. I knew Jeff was barely using his closet so he wouldn’t even think about the drawers under the bed. Sure enough, they were empty. But as I placed my shoes, boots and sandals lovingly into their new, hidden home, I started counting and, well, I’m just ridiculous. Who needs 5 pairs of high suede boots here? I brought 3 pairs of rubber boots!  What was I thinking?

But that isn’t the capper. Tonight we went down to the garage after I was done unpacking the rest of the stuff and putting it away. I was feeling pretty proud of myself and my ability to cram things in every nook and hidden crannies. Organizing things for easy access later. Winter closet, stored. Yup, I was at the top of my organizational game. I hadn’t over packed afterall. I was a ‘just enough’ goddess.

I got into the elevator with a confident smug swagger that only a truly organized person pull off. Then we measured.

My beloved couch is 43 3/4 inches deep. I don’t care about the height because it passed that test. Our living room window is broken up into sections that are 43 inches. Not 44 inches – 43. And they can’t get any bigger, even if you take the windows out, because of the custom shutters that come down in tracks. So my couch won’t fit. So we went down and took all the wrapping from the move off and I actually talked to the couch.

‘Please couch – I know you’ve been through alot in the last 5 months but I need 3/4 of an inch – that’s all. Please give me 3/4 of an inch.’ I begged and pleaded.

Jeff measured again. I don’t think the couch was very forgiving after spending months in a container ship. It didn’t give up a millimeter. There will be no couch (at least not one from the US) inside El Compartimiento. With every victory, there is also defeat. I had gotten a little cocky with the shoes.

Tonight, Jeff is sporting his Keens, he’s smiling in a fresh pair of shorts and a shirt he hasn’t worn since February. That’s good enough for me.

Last Dance with Mary Jane

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The shippers got the moving truck back to our house around 3:30 yesterday afternoon. I almost cried when they left. Our house is empty, except for the life raft (air mattress) in the bedroom and it  echos. Jeff can no longer mutter under his breath on the other side of the house without me hearing exactly what he’s saying. How do I know this? Experience.

All 14 computers are being recycled today and Mary Jane is en route to her new owner. Our goodbye in the garage was brief, but I did acknowledge how much she’s helped us get ready for today. Jeff drove off with the Bill of Sale and the title clutched in his hand. I’ll collect him from his office at the end of the day.

Today, there are only a couple of things I need to get done. A sweep with a garbage bag to open every cupboard, drawer, closet, cubby, and ensure that they’re clear. A guy is coming at 11:30 to take the last of Jeff’s tools, so I’ll let him into the garage to take them away.

Jeff was happy this morning. A man who has spent his entire life gathering stuff, feels lighter letting go.

‘I think everyone should go through this process. It feels good.’ He said at 5 am laying in the dark.  ‘Even if the boat sinks with all the rest of our stuff, I would be OK.’

If there had been any light in the room, he would have seen my jaw drop. Jeff has had a much harder time with this process, than I have. Shucking all he’s worked so hard for. But it seems he’s turned a corner. I relate, because I feel the same way.

Yesterday, I paid our rent for March in Valencia. It made us both feel better that we’re good to go when we land. It’s been a long process, but the time has been necessary. Evolutions take time. Growth can be painful, but it’s always good. We’re ready to go.

The Grief of Goodbye

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There are points in life – graduations, kids going off to college – where we both celebrate and we mourn. We buy cards and gifts and we cheer. And then we cry tears of joy and loss as we see the back side of our children or grandchildren, as they go off to new horizons, without us. Blessedly Capable.

Today is a day of grief for me. It’s not really anything I can put my finger on. It’s just been here with me all day. I’ve been calling airlines and purchasing more baggage allowances. But I have found out that I have too many and I need to cut out a bag.

So I opened up the offending bag and I can cut it out. It’s not the stuff. Its the idea. We are already down to nothing. And now, we’re down to less than nothing. Sigh. I take a deep breath, and realize I’ll have to donate some more stuff. But it’s not even that. What is it? I don’t even know.

I sat here on the couch and cried. Not about anything specifically, but the tears flowed. Perhaps it’s when I booked my daughter’s ticket to Barcelona in May. We won’t see her until then. Maybe it’s because today, my son is opening his own bank account. One that I will no longer be on – he’s nearly 20, so it’s time and I won’t be banking at that bank anymore. It’s like the threads of the ties that bind are fraying all on the same day.

I wanted to tell the woman at American Airlines that I needed that suitcase. Please let me take it – it’s part of all I’ve got left. But she wouldn’t have cared. I’m not sure why I care so much. But I do.

We went to Iceland a few years ago. We visited the spot on the earth where the North American and European plates are born. Where deep in the earth, the crust is being created and pushed towards the surface. I always imagined it to be a very painful process as the rock reaches the light of day. I guess that’s how I feel now. Like we’re creating new ground – and sometimes there is pain in doing it.

Today, I’m just going to sit in it. The sadness and the grief of letting go of an old life before embracing a new one. But as the pain washes over me, the grief of goodbye has overwhelmed me – no explanations, no excuses – it just is.

Down to the Dregs

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We are down to just what we want to keep. The boxes and the couch. The two bikes. And our 5 checked bags and two carry-ons. The Garage Sale worked and the dump runs and donations to Habitat for Humanity are complete.

We were making food the other night  – I won’t call it dinner, because, well…my skills being what they are, it was just food. Jeff looked into a cupboard and then another cupboard. And then the dishwasher. He held up a plate.

‘Who gets the plate?’ he asked me.

‘What?’ I was confused.

‘We have just one plate left in this house. Which one of us gets it? Or do you eat, wash it, then I eat?’

Oops! I’ve already packed up the good dishes that are going with us. OK, so my timing on liquidation is a little off, but we can buy disposable plates at the grocery store. They’ll go well with the disposable forks and spoons we’re using now.

So, we’re down to the dregs. Like the bathroom drawers that just need to be gone through. And while I don’t need expired cold medicine or 5 – just started bottles of Advil, I am sitting here looking at my collection of airline toiletries and I’m having a bit of a hard time.

Growing up, we had no money. I mean, NONE. When I was small, I played on a rug that smelled like smoke – it had been purchased in a literal fire sale and was the color of vomit – I wish I was kidding. It wasn’t until my parents mortgaged everything and bought a grocery store, when I was 12, that we had two nickels to rub together by the time I graduated high school. So vacations in our family? Yeah, there was never a vacation. I’m not sure my Dad understood what leisure was.

The one time I flew on an airplane, before I turned 18 and purchased my own ticket to NYC, was from Portland to Los Angeles – one way on Western Airlines (out of business for 40 years now). My uncle died and left my Dad his car, so we had to fly down and drive it 1000 miles back home.  I remember boarding that plane at 10 years old, walking past the people in First Class and thinking ‘Someday I want to be rich so I can fly First Class!’.

When I grew up, I longed to travel to far away places. And I was lucky, my career paid for a lot of travel – domestically and internationally. Domestically, I had status on several airlines so I got bumped up about 50% of the time. And when ever I flew internationally, I flew business or first class. It didn’t suck! And every time, the carrier would give me a little ‘Travel Toiletry kit’ so I could be comfortable and stretch out, as the seat became my bed – waking refreshed on the other end of a 10 or 14 hour flight.

My favorite airline for travel kits is Emirates. They give you Bulgari lotion and a bunch of other stuff. I’m surprised its not crammed with money and diamonds, or something. But the award for Best Eye Mask goes to Iceland Air. I covet those eye masks. It’s worth paying for the upgrade to Saga Class – believe me. Delta gives you Tumi, and when you get the Tumi Hard cases. Well, those are collectors items.

So I have saved them. Each and Every One. And today, they’re all piled on the counter. They represent adventures (and some boring business meetings, I’ll admit). The 10 year old girl, boarding that plane in 1976 with her jar of half dollars to spend at Disneyland, really did make it out of those circumstances. When I would come home from business trips, my kids would rush me to get the gifts I always bought them – think rugby ball on Portobello road (don’t get me started). But they never got to have the travel bags – those were for me.

I sit here now, and open each one. Every airline has emphasized something different in their little pouches. Some partner with other luxury purveyors to upgrade the experience. Others are more generic. But each speaks to me. “Don’t throw me away! Remember when we went to Dubai together? ‘ or ‘I’m what you got when British Airways bumped you from Business to First – that was a fun trip with premium champagne, wasn’t it?’

I can’t take them all. It’s not practical and Jeff would kill me. And I know it’s ridiculous, but I think I’ll sneak my favorites into my checked luggage – how much can they weigh, really? And the Tumi hard cases are definitely making the cut!

Talking vs. Communicating

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Communication and understanding are the key to a happy life. I know this from the harsh reality of experience, as I’ve not always been the best at either of these. I guess time grants you wisdom and perspective – if you decide to pay attention.

In thinking of our preparation for moving to Spain, we joined several Facebook groups for Expats already living in our chosen city, and some specifically for Americans moving to or already living in Spain. It’s been eye opening and in many cases invaluable. But sometimes, it’s been ugly.

Hearing how some of my fellow countrymen speak about people in their chosen country of residence hurts. The harsh reality when they’ve discovered that the culture in Spain isn’t American. Surprise! They do things differently there and the people who run the country won’t bow down to ‘The American Way’. In reading their posts, I sometimes wonder why they don’t just go back to Kansas, or North Carolina or Virginia if they find it so hard to deal with.

It also made me examine myself. When I was still working, I did business with people from other countries, notably France, and decided it was a good time for an ‘Intercultural Communications’ class. It wasn’t because I couldn’t talk with the people in La Ciotat, France – where the other company resided. They spoke English. It was because we couldn’t communicate effectively, and I couldn’t figure out why.

We would have a daily call at the beginning of our day and then end of their work day. We would ask for things and they would always agree to do them. But then, they started missing dates on projects and their people were clearly stressed and working ungodly hours to meet our demands. I couldn’t figure out what was going on. So I flew to France.

Meeting with them face to face, I learned that in France – The Customer is Always Right – even if I was wrong, they would never tell me ‘NO’. In developing software, this is the killer. In the US, I would make demands of my engineers and they would tell me ‘You’re crazy if you think we can do that in that amount of time.’ I would ask them to help me be more realistic and they go away and think about it and come back and we would negotiate. My job was to push, their job was to push back. We both understood our roles.

The French team just said ‘Yes’ to every idea I had. But soon, I realized I had to give them permission to tell me I was ‘Full of it’. It made them uncomfortable at first, but we started working well together. And on that trip, I got to hear my team on the phone, from the perspective of the team in France. I was able to see their faces as my people in Seattle spoke, and how it landed 7,000 miles away. It wasn’t pretty and I went back home and we changed our approach.

So taking the ‘Intercultural Communications’ class was eye opening too. I learned that different cultures have different power hierarchies and power distances, and dynamics that are not ever discussed but are ingrained since birth. It’s the subtle things that govern how people interact. And it’s the agreed upon method of communication that everyone, except outsiders, understands.

So, when considering moving to another country, it’s imperative that we learn how to communicate effectively. Its not just being able to order a cafe con leche in a cafe in the right language. Or asking for directions. It’s the subtext and context that’s most important. And it’s cultural sensitivity and empathy.

We are the way we are in the US, because of our Puritanical roots and our cultural belief in manifest destiny and some sort of divine right. We’re taught that in school and by all the cultural cues we receive subliminally. But in Spain, the people are also a collection of their history and experiences. A history that stretches much longer than our Anglo-Christian view of the world. The Spanish people of today are a result of those experiences, just like us.

Jeff and I’ve had a lot of discussions about how, at times, we just won’t get it.  And we will trip and fall. But the most important things is, we need to approach it without judgement. And we need to stop, take a deep breath, and try to understand it from their perspective. With intercultural communications, there is no ‘right way’. There is just empathy and willingness to understand. Its the only way to get along in this life, even in our own country. And we’re committed to it.

Camping in your own Backyard

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When my kids were small, we would set up a tent in the backyard, or even the family room (if it was cold outside) and we would get out the sleeping bags and ‘camp’. They loved it – all cozy in the tent with just the things we needed to survive an overnight – complete with indoor plumbing and a refrigerator just steps away. Flash lights and snacks, a thin requirement. Those were good days.

But I was in my 30’s back then. Sleeping on the ground or an air mattress wasn’t a big deal. I popped up in the morning, and rarely felt the effects. Today? Yeah – not so fast. What a difference more than 20 years makes. Yoga. Definitely a yoga day.

Yesterday, Jeff had a great idea. ‘Lets pack up everything we’ll need for the next 6 weeks, just like we’re getting on a plane tomorrow. We’ll live out of those suit cases and find out what we can’t live without, while we’re waiting for our stuff to arrive in Valencia. Since we have to get by without it all for as long as 16 weeks.’

I thought this was great idea. Our bed is already gone. The dishes we’re taking are in carry on suit cases. Our pots, pans, cooking utensils, etc. are in a checked bag. That just leaves our clothes, shoes toiletries to make sure will fit into our two bags each. So we got to work – seeing if it would all fit. And Surprise! For me it did. Turns out, I am evolving as a human being.

The garage/yard sale is scheduled on some garage sale apps and Craigslist for next weekend. The goal by sunset on Sunday of next week? We’ll just have the boxes & couch we’re shipping in the living room + a TV we will donate before we go (gotta have my new found Spanish shows), a few odds and ends dishes, mugs and cookware in the kitchen (again, we’ll donate when we leave), our bags that will go on the airplane with us – including the air mattresses we’re sleeping on now. And that’s it! We will be camping – just like the old days.

It’s good our kids aren’t here. I can hear the eye roll and head shakes at how crazy this all is. I mean – who spends a life time amassing ‘Stuff’ and then in the course of 6 months, gives it all away? Maybe we’re fools, but we’re happy fools. Yesterday, as we made decisions about a ton of stuff, we both felt lighter. I had my doubts at times too. How could we get it all done? But I think we’ll make it. Until then, we’re camping and enjoying every minute of it.

The Review

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Today, I woke up bone tired. It could be the fact that we’re now sleeping on an air mattress, but we’ve been going for days, and I needed coffee. So I made a cafĂ© con leche from the precious beans I have left, and I reviewed the list I made back in September of all the things we needed to do to move to Spain.

Back then, the list seemed like it was never ending. On a daily basis I was adding, rather than checking off. But the excitement was palpable. I was optimistic and, of course, we had 6 months to do it all. Plenty of time – Easy Peasy!Countdown

The review today revealed just how much we have gotten done since then. Something to celebrate! All the visa hoops, sure. But also, renting an apartment, getting a lawyer, etc. None of that was on the list when I started it – and all of it has been done. They’re painting our apartment in Valencia this week and the appliances are being ordered. Even our utilities are being hooked up in our name. Check, check, check.

And now the list has only 12 things left unchecked. Sure – they’re some big things, like our consulate appointment, doing our taxes and selling two cars. But 12 lines nonetheless. I added a calendar count down app to my phone and it’s just 42 days away. That’s 3.5 days per item. Of course, that means nothing. Things don’t get done that way, but it feels better reducing it all to math. I can touch and feel numbers, and the abstractions of ‘to-do’s’ starts to feel less nebulous.

This week, our international shipper will do a FaceTime inventory so we can get a realistic and final estimate. And I’ll try to work out how we’ll get rid of the odds and ends we have left in the house – maybe an old fashioned garage sale! Checking all my alerts, the cost of plane tickets for the 28th of February have plummeted, so I’m itching to book those after our consulate appointment February 5th. Today we paid our translator and by Monday of next week, all our translations will arrive. Then I’ll make photo copies of our packets and put them into snazzy folders. Tick tock.

I just sent the whittled down version of what we have left to do, to Jeff at work. I haven’t heard back from him yet, and I’m not sure he can see how far we’ve come in the last 6 months, but I thought it was important for him to have visibility into where we are. The final 42 days will not be a walk in the park, but we can see the light at the end of the tunnel and I believe it’s not a freight train but will open up to a bright future!

And She’s Rounding the Corner

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We have officially entered the home stretch for all this visa falderal. We flew back from my parents house just now, and what was in the mail box? Oh yeah. Our Apostillized FBI background checks, with the official stamps and all the whoozy-whatsits, was waiting for us in the mail box.

What? With a pending government shut down, our documents are actually in my hands?How is this possible that government documents that were mailed last Friday are actually here on a Tuesday – with the MLK holiday yesterday where they don’t deliver mail? I know how – we delivered all that stuff to my parent’s house this weekend, a drive of 1380 miles.

I have heard monks and others talk about how we carry too much stuff with us in our lives. Material things, emotional baggage, the garbage that plugs up and blocks our lives. But this weekend we gave away a bunch of stuff. This weekend, we made a huge effort to make the lives of others we love a little better. And the universe rewarded us with a simple yellow envelope and the key to crossing the finish line.

And sitting at the airport tonight, waiting for our Uber to come, I got an email from our translator. She has completed all our translations, except the Apostilled background checks – that came back in English. I just sent them to her via email and she’ll send them to me tomorrow – completed. We have rounded the corner and we’re heading for the wire – race horsing parlance.

But clearing out all the stuff and taking it to my parents isn’t quite as easy as it might seem. Sure the drive there was never ending. But getting there wasn’t the real work. Unloading boxes of photos and memories was hard enough. But leaving our cats, Lucy and Clubber would break my heart. I love both of those little gray fur balls.

After three days of driving, Jeff and I pulled into my parent’s driveway in our U-Haul truck on Sunday afternoon after speeding through deserts, old growth forests, and over the Cascade Mountains. At times, Jeff forgot we were driving an 18 foot truck and drove  the American bi-ways like we were in the Ultimate German Driving Machine. He took some of the corners right to the edge. I discovered there is no brake peddle on the floor of the passenger side. He encouraged me to stop trying to find it.

We unloaded the truck right away and the entire family came over to have dinner and wish us a bon voyage. And then it was time to go to bed in my childhood bedroom. This is the room where I dreamed the dreams that only children and teenagers can. It’s also the room that never had a boy cross the threshold in the entire time I was growing up. It still freaks me out a bit to sleep with Jeff in that room. It has hard wood floors and a floor vent that is above my parent’s bed.

But there was also the knowing we are leaving the country and my parent’s are getting older. In the past, when I’ve ‘gone home’ to visit, I always knew I would be back ‘Hasta Pronto’. But this time, it was different. I’m not exactly sure when I will be coming back. Sure, we are thinking October, but we have a lot of ground to cover before then.

I said ‘Goodbye’ to our cats. And then I went down stairs to say goodbye to my Dad. We both had tears in our eyes. He’s pretty much wheel chair bound now and he couldn’t rise to hug me so I went to him. At 89, he’s survived so many health scares, it’s hard to believe he won’t live forever. He looked great – having slept 12 hours last night in the new adjustable bed we gave them.

My Dad was one of the first people who told me we should go move to Spain when I broached the subject. ‘Go – Have adventures. Live your lives before you’re old and you can’t.’

I knew he was thinking of his own life when he said it. But I also know my Dad is incredibly practical and if I said I wasn’t going to go because of him, he would get very angry. He and my Mom love to hear about the things we do and the places we go. I know this moving to Spain will be no different.

Then my Mom loaded us in the car and drove us to the airport. She cried harder than I’ve ever seen her at the curbside. Sitting in the airport afterwards, I thought about our decision to move halfway across the world. Was it wise right now? If not now, when? And then I heard my Dad’s voice. ‘Go have adventures.’ And we will. Just because it’s hard on so many levels, doesn’t mean it isn’t the right thing to do.

Dancing in the Rain

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As humans, we’ve survived because we have been able to evolve and adapt. The people on this planet today – all of us – are a result of DNA that has been resilient enough to make small changes, allowing us to survive long enough to procreate or at least, not get eaten by a sabretooth tiger. We are all a testament to this process.

So I started looking at ways I might make small changes to my approach. ‘OK’ I said to myself. ‘So you can’t force that document to come back from the State Department fully apostillized tomorrow, or even next week. But what can you do?’

So I reached out to my translator and made a proposal. What if I sent her the copy I have of these FBI background checks? It’s not apostillized, but the words are the same. She could prepare the translation – one less thing for her to translate when they come back from Washington DC. She said that was a great idea so I sent them off to her.

She also told me something else that I read no where else, and wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t made my proposal. Sometimes, the State Department sends back the Apostle and it’s already in Spanish, French and English. This would mean I wouldn’t need the Apostle translated at all. She said not to count on this for sure – but that she’s seen that before.

And all of a sudden, it’s just one more reminder that where there is a will, there’s a way. That in the end, you gotta make your own weather. Forward motion needs to be maintained. So today is a good day. I have no idea if we’ll make our appointment on the 29th. But I will have done everything – absolutely everything – to make that happen.

Its raining outside, I have a full cup of Spanish coffee and I’m spending the day writing my book. Bliss. Sometimes, in the middle of the storm – you gotta go out and dance in the rain. And that’s what I intend to do.

The Devil and the Details

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We were at the airport at 5am this morning. Emilie is back at school, so I’m getting down to less trendy concerns. Putting all this together has become a puzzle. And the pieces like to change shape as we go. Making for some interesting days. I’ll confirm my overseas shipper on Monday and arrange to do a FaceTime audit to get a more solid estimate.

Throughout this process, I’ve surprised myself. In the beginning, I thought 20 medium sized boxes sounded like torture. How would I ever leave all my favorite things behind? But as we’ve gone through it, I find letting go of things isn’t quite as hard as it was a few months ago. And I’ve gotten more savvy at finding ways around little problems we’ve encountered. Getting creative can save us time, money and headaches.

Today, I packed all our favorite Crate and Barrel dishes into carry on bags. We aren’t going to ship those on the water – we’ll be eating on our own plates the first night. Sure, we’ll have to drink water out of bowls for a few days, until we buy glassware, but we won’t be completely camping.

I’m bringing my good Sur la Table cookware in checked bags too – layered with my clothes. And our flatware and some very edited cooking utensils will come with us, so we can eat at home out of the gate. Sure, we’ll be ‘roughing it’ a bit but it will be so nice to having our stuff with us.

Our new home is unfurnished and will be completely empty, so we’re bringing two twin inflatable mattress that we’ll put together with our king-sized sheets (also packed in checked luggage) and we’ll be fine until we buy a bed. And I wrapped the dishes with our pillow cases so we’ll even have those ready as we lay down after a full day of travel.

I admit, I was freaking out over the shipping of Jeff’s motorcycle. I got bids from $2500 – $6000. with additional costs to crate it of $600-$1000. This did not include duty or VAT, or all the ‘port delays, demurrages or storage charges’. Jeff was pretty worried that his beloved would be held hostage with mounting fees.

So he started doing some research and now he’s shipping it with a guy who does it all the time for riders from the US, via air, and it’s only going to cost $1400, no crating fee. Still duty, etc. but that’s so much better than I thought. It means our stuff won’t have to include the motorcycle – which I had been told complicated things significantly. As of now,  we’ll be able to get the costs of our household goods waaay down!

We’ll be spending plenty in Spain to do our part to boost their economy and keep the capitalist engine of our new country humming. We’re only shipping my favorite couch from here, so we’ll have to furnish our new home. And we’ll need to buy a car and a scooter for me. But it all seems doable now.

We’re taking nothing superfluous to new life we want to lead.  Now, I see 20 boxes as the goal instead of the enemy, and we might just make it. Perhaps this process has changed us for the better, in ways we didn’t anticipate.

The Seal of Approval

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Today was the day we needed to accomplish two things. Especially since Emilie is still here and she’s a driver. If there is something that needs doing, she’s all over us to get it done. It’s a great trait when we have a hard deadline – like we do now.

The first thing was to tackle what Jeff has in his closet and drawers, and to pitch with extreme prejudice. This included the suit he wore at our wedding, and the list goes on from there. He’s a big souvenir t-shirt guy. Some he actually wears but most he acquired as a remembrance that he went some where or saw something. Usually, it’s an experience he had on his motorcycle. [Deep breath. Heavy sigh.]

Then there are all the old ski pants and hiking boots that he’s kept over the years, for whatever reason. He’s still fighting the last remnants of the plague I gave him, so he laid on the bed sniffling, while Emilie and I ‘helped him make decisions’. Spinning it like we were doing him a favor. I took things out of the closet and then we voted. The hanging things were easy. The drawer things were harder.

‘Wait – I got that in XYZ when I went to ABC.’ he pleads.

The shirt is truly hideous. Em and I try to avoid eye contact.

‘Yeah, but the tags are still on it. It’s been 3 years.’ says Emilie logically.

‘You guys are killing me.’ he grumbles.

‘I’m fine if you want to pay money to move it more than 8,000 miles away.’ I say generously, knowing this will be the downfall of this item.

He points to the ever-growing donation pile and Emilie gives me a little smile and a knowing nod.

Two large lawn bags later and we’re down to three piles. What he’ll move with him in a suit case when we leave. What he needs now for work. And finally, what I’m putting in space bags to ship in boxes that will arrive at our new home in 8-16 weeks. Progress!

The second thing we need to accomplish is setting aside what he will wear to the interview at the consulate. I had already put aside a couple of outfits for myself, which Emilie had judged to be suitable for public viewing. She immediately went to work from the ‘Ship it’ pile and had him trying on nice jackets, dress shirts and trousers. She started with the shoes and built the rest of his options around it. She is my daughter – whether we share DNA or not.

After getting Jeff to patiently work with her, she came up with an outfit that is coordinated with mine.

‘You want to look like you’re together. You know – like you thought about it, but not too matchy matchy.’ she coached us as though we’re children who can hardly dress ourselves.

Em really should be a celebrity stylist. She’d make a zillion dollars doing it. She has a crazy memory and can pull things out of your closet that you forgot about or didn’t even know you owned. When she was little – like 5 years old – I would come down the stairs to take her to school and she’d look me up and down and make suggestions.

‘I think you need to wear the other shoes. And you have a handbag that will go better with that outfit.’

And I would got back upstairs and do what she said. Once, I took her to ‘Take Your Daughter to Work Day’. I worked at the Corporate office of a large retailer in Seattle and they had the kids come to see the what the buyers were contemplating buying for the next season. Emilie had chosen her outfit (she was 8) very carefully that day. Complete with accessories.

The buyers had all the merch on rolling racks and the shoes and accessories out on tables. The other kids were running around and screaming. Emilie walked the racks quietly like a pro and then headed to the tables. She picked up product and felt the hand of fabrics.

The buyers asked all the kids to sit down and then asked each of them to tell them what they thought of what they saw. Emilie had taken notes. I watched as she got up from her chair and started organizing the clothes on the racks.

‘Yes, Yes, No. Definitely No.’ as she flipped through them while standing on a chair.

She went through all the racks in the room and moved on to the tables. Everyone else was now taking notes. She had the entire room eating out of her hand as she concisely answered questions as to why she did or didn’t like something. She wasn’t fooling around and took it all very seriously. Afterwards, they pulled me aside and asked me if she would be willing to come back and look at samples for future seasons.

So we are lucky to have our own little, ‘Devil Wears Prada’, Miranda Priestly in our family. It’s Em’s super power and she’s definitely made editing a lot easier. We can leave here with the confidence that everything we’re taking is Emilie Approved.

It’s Getting Real Real

vivaespanamovingtospain

It’s January. Yup. That month that seemed so far away in October, is actually here. The days are like water slipping through my fingers. Time that used to drag on is now speeding up. I am sure there are only 12 hours in every day now. So I’m not wasting any of them.

My daughter, Emilie, goes back to school Sunday on a 7am flight so I need to use the precious time I have with her, and her two hands and expert fashion sense. Before she got home, I had put all the clothes I wouldn’t need in the next two months into space bags. I had inventoried them and put them into boxes. I was ahead of the game.

Then Em came home. She started going through things and piling up things that I needed to get rid of. This was in the kitchen and some of the closets. She’s a very opinionated and decisive person. Huh. Wonder where she got that. So I thought, maybe I had been hasty in my bagging of my clothes. Maybe I should have her take a pass at the stuff I was thinking of bringing with me across the world.

I opened up the boxes and the space bags and she sat back and directed.

‘Hmm. I’m not sure. Try it on and I’ll tell you.’

I would do as I was told and she would make a judgement that was final. It wasn’t exactly binding arbitration but I treated it as such. Large, separate piles began to form. My husband, who cares not at all for fashion, became interested in the exercise and sat down to watch and – wait for it – actually gave an opinion. This man who I have asked for his take on what I’m wearing on any one of a million days in the last 20 years, had an opinion today. In fact, he had multiple opinions.

After this exercise, I filled up 4 full lawn bags of clothes to give away – both from what I had already packed in boxes and what I had kept back to wear for the next 2 months. Crazy. I let go of that much more stuff – and Emilie scored a couple of things that she had coveted in my closet for quite some time. Things I really don’t need.

Inspired, I kept going. All the pictures are off the walls and have been de-framed. The big tapestry we bought in Greece is now packed away safely, too. And I have enough for a car load to take to the Goodwill for donation.

Tomorrow – I’m going to have her help me further pair down the kitchen. She’s more practical than I am in that area, and I think we can make a bigger dent than before. What a difference a week makes. This time last week, I was sick and overwhelmed. This week? I’m inspired and motivated. It will all come together in the final 55 days to go.