Tag: working together

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.

Day 8 – Visa Watch

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We’re just waiting now. Checking email throughout the day to see if the ‘We like you, come to Spain’ email is waiting for us. Now I’m doing the housekeeping of sweeping up all the little things. Funny, I thought the list was almost done, but the closer we get I keep adding one thing here, another there. To Do’s I didn’t think about. Turning in cable boxes and routers, mailing important documents to my parents for safe keeping. Finding stray bins full of photos that I need to figure out what to do with them.

Today, I’m putting our entire movie collection on an external hard drive so we can avoid taking the dvd’s with us. It’s tedious but we’ll have entertainment when we decide we can’t get through the day without watching Harry Potter or Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Music CD’s will come after that.

Yesterday, I made the inventory of all our boxes and wrapped them in plastic wrap and labeled them for the shippers when they come next week. And speaking of international shippers. Are they all flakes? I signed the contract with ours and their dispatch still can’t tell me what day next week when they will come and pick up our stuff. And when Jeff dropped off his motorcycle with a different shipper in LA last week, they acted like it was the first time they had ever shipped a motorcycle and were making it up as they go along. A process ripe for disruption, if I was looking for a business opportunity or a Start-up to start up.

Only one more document and our accountant will have all the documents he needs to do our taxes. Every day, I do small things now. But most of them have to done on a specific day, so it’s slowed me down. I can’t batch it all up and just muscle through, so it’s good I have this movie converting to do.

Jeff is still working an hour away and he has the truck so I’m home bound, for the most part. It’s goes against my nature. Before my son, Nick was born I was put on bed rest for 6 weeks for high blood pressure. It drove me crazy, even though everyone said I should appreciate the rest before sleepless nights became my reality. But I didn’t. I hated the inaction.

So, I’m determined to appreciate this time. Our last 14 days in the US. I’ll watch some of my favorite shows. Enjoy some foods I can only get here. Call friends and family. Take more walks in the neighborhood. But that doesn’t mean I’m not hitting refresh on my email – hoping against hope that we’ll be the exception and get our visas in record time. The biggest lose end tied up, at last.

 

Just One More Thing…

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After driving to Los Angeles and staying in a hotel overnight, we made it the the consulate a bit early for our appointment. Their website details EXACTLY how you’re supposed to do everything, down to printing two copies of the document check list and the order in which those documents must appear in the packet. It emphasizes how important this all is and I checked and double checked it all. I had Jeff go through the instructions on the website himself, in case I missed something. Here’s how it actually went.

We got there early – I’m never, ever late to anything. And this appointment is too important to be left to chance. There weren’t any other people there to get visas at the moment we arrived, so they took us early.  Good sign – I thought. And they’re really nice people. I know they want to help us get our visa.

‘Just pull the financial documents out and let’s go through them first. That will be the thing that will keep you from getting the visa so if they are good, then the rest is easy’

Seemed logical to me. So out I pulled the holy scriptures of our financial picture – thick dossiers of everything and several months worth of statements.

‘Yeah – we don’t need all this. Just the beginning and ending balances. And being that this is February 5th and your January statement looks like it would have ended on the 29th – we will need that too. Why don’t you have that?’

I was incredulous. I had everything – EVERYTHING – related to our financial picture. It had all been translated for hundreds of dollars. And it all came down to our last bank statement??

‘There was no time to send it to Boulder to the translator and get it back in time for this appointment – 6 days later with a weekend in there.’

‘Well, we’re going to need that since it’s past the 29th.’

You could visibly seem my mouth hanging open. But of course I said, ‘OK’. I would get it.

Then they wanted to know why my translations weren’t ‘stapled by the translator’. I said I didn’t know. They were very concerned unstapled translations might be rejected in Spain. Jeff and I looked at each other. We could staple them ourselves but we remained silent.

‘Please consult your translator and ask why she didn’t staple them.’

I said I would and reached out to her in email from the consulate. Oh, No You Didn’t! She came unglued! She told me in her official translation certification, they expressly said that official translations are never stapled, she never staples, and she thinks it renders the documents unofficial. I was beginning to feel like I was caught between Mom and Dad and they were in a fight.

Ugh. Then we were told we needed more copies of our 10lb packets, so we had to walk across the street and get some made and bring them back. Great! We were all set – the guy gave me back some copies and we went back to our hotel to pack up and get Jeff’s motorcycle to the port of Los Angeles to ship it out. Then my phone rang.

They were very sorry but they had given me the wrong papers and I needed to come back across town and give them back to them so they could give me the correct ones. I will admit to having a melt down in the hotel room. The Gods of Document Hades were having me on again! But what could I do?

I went back through LA traffic and they squeezed me in to sort it out. It only took an hour. I left there and drove down to the port to meet up with Jeff – more than an hour away. I had all his gear, that was shipping with his bike, in the trunk of my car so he couldn’t complete it without me. This delayed us getting out of LA. And I know from experience, you never, ever delay getting out of LA after noon. Or it will take you FOREVER!! You will age on the drive from San Pedro to San Bernadino. It’s like dog years.

So at midnight last night – we rolled into our driveway. Yes  – midnight. And this morning I’m going to our bank to explain to some nice person that I need to get those statements stamped again. And then I’m going to scan them and send them to our translator, who has promised to do them quickly and get them back to me via overnight post, so I can overnight them to the consulate. She’ll probably put 50 staples in them just for spite. But I’m tired thinking about it.

I know we aren’t alone. While I was sitting there in my second consulate visit yesterday morning – I noticed almost everyone had a ‘Just one more thing’ to go take care of. Three weeks – we need that visa in three weeks so we can get on a plane. Crossing my fingers that our ‘Just one more thing’ is really ‘The last thing.’

The Wind at our Backs

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We’ve spent months and months getting everything ready and today, we drive towards LA. On the way, we’ll stop off in Palm Springs for an overnight with dear friends, and then it’s on to LaLa land to spend, probably a sleepless night in great anticipation. Monday morning we have 2 meetings at the Spanish consulate on Wiltshire Blvd. to turn in our applications and pay our visa fees and tasa.

Feels surreal, now that we are very nearly at the appointed hour. We’ll be dressed up like we’re heading to our college interviews – just hoping they’ll like the cut of our jib. It’s a test you can’t study for.

We only have a few more things on the list after this. And they are thus:

  1. Sell the Audi TT (lining up a buyer)
  2. Sell Mary Jane – our ancient Toyota truck (we have a buyer lined up and will deliver it the third week of Feb)
  3. Have the overseas stuff picked up – Already scheduled for third week in Feb
  4. Get Jeff’s beloved motorcycle to LA to be shipped out before Feb 25th – He will do this alone (I’m not riding to LA again).
  5. And finally – when they tell us our visas are ready – book our flights to Spain out of LA and pick up our visas at the consulate there, before heading the to airport – hopefully by Feb 28th. My searches and alerts on Kayak are making me antsy to pull the trigger on this!

That’s it. No more on the very long list that could have covered the refrigerator last September. I can see all the crossed off items in different ink – and remember how I celebrated each one. And how it happened? – I can hardly believe it, but it did.

We are 25 days away from lift off. I can hear the engines rev. We’re both anxious for it all to be over and to be sipping a drink on the plane. Human beings are powerful when their will is focused.  But first, you gotta believe you can do it, so you can. They say ‘Fortune favors the bold.’ Well, this is as bold as we get so I hope she’s smiling on us for the next few weeks, at least.

The Slow Roll

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The next 30 days – Please, Please, Please give us a visa – has become our linguistic transition period. I’m +Babbeling, and Rosetta Stoning. I’m watching strictly Spanish TV and even trying out some of my new language on Jeff.

‘Let’s Go’ he says, to move me along to the store.

‘You mean ‘Vamonos!’ I say, with a wave of my hand. I’ve begun gesturing with my arms a lot more – like my new favorite Spanish actresses.

He rolls his eyes, but I’ll be the one laughing when we land in Spain.

‘Como llegamos al metro, por favor?’ I’ll say at the airport, to the first official person I see – right out of the gate. Jeff will be confused but follow in my wake – as he’ll have no other choice, being that he hasn’t been studying up for hours a day with La Casa De Papel and Velvet.

For our visa applications, we had to pay an official consulate-approved translator to translate our bank statements – and a host of other documents. So when we went to the bank to get them stamped and signed, the manager suggested that we switch our language preference to Spanish going forward. That way, next year when we want to renew our visas, we can just print them, get then stamped and we won’t be out the $400 to have someone certify that numbers in English are numbers in Spanish.

Seemed like a great idea until yesterday when we got a fraud alert via text on Jeff’s phone. And yes, now it’s in Spanish.

‘What the hell is this?’ asked Jeff, confused. ‘I think it’s telling me there has been some fraudulent activity on our account – but I can’t tell what it is.’ he groaned. ‘Shit! We had that guy at the bank change everything over to Spanish!’

I smiled. Seemed like a good idea at the time. So we logged into our account and Yup! its all in Spanish. Nothing like jumping into the deep end. So I called and got things straightened out, charges reversed and cards cancelled. They’re researching some of the stuff from a couple of days ago and today they sent me an email update – in Spanish. Jeff laughed.

‘See. Now YOU get to decipher what the hell this says.’

‘No problema!’ was my reply. And I sat down and figured it out. Sure, I had to look up a bunch of banking mumbo jumbo (Oh, how Google translate still owns me) – but I did pretty good before I broke down and used ‘the Google’, as my Mom calls it. And, if I’m honest, I’m a little proud of myself.

Not that I haven’t had my doubts about what we’re doing, the closer it gets. Serious doubts about how mad we must be to just up and move across the world. But I feel sure, when the days comes, I’ll do it with a hearty ‘Vamanos!’

 

 

 

The Cone of Uncertainty

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Anyone who has every developed software knows about the ‘Cone of Uncertainty’. It’s basically a big funnel where the wide end is the beginning of the project. It’s the time when you think up everything you could possibly ever want the application or the software to do. Every crazy function. It’s the ‘Wouldn’t it be great if we could…?’ moment. This flare of ideas should not come again until the 2.0 version of the software.

Then you take those things and you estimate the time, effort and cost it will take to develop them and you begin to edit. At the wide end of the cone, you have an accuracy of +/-  200%. As you move down the cone towards the narrow end – over time – your estimates, requirements, and costs become more refined and more real.

So we have run this ‘Project of Moving to Spain’ much like a software project, since both Jeff and I understand how that works. We’ve got spreadsheets, lists and timelines. We identified dependencies and risks and we’ve been ticking things off. The other night Jeff commented on where we are.

‘In the beginning it was exciting. So many unknowns. But now it’s like we’re just slogging through the list.’

‘Yeah.’ I said. ‘I hear you. It’s not sexy stuff. But if we want to get this across the finish line, we need to do the housekeeping. The fun stuff will start again when we show up in Spain with a couch and some cardboard boxes. Then 2.0 starts. But we gotta do the drudgery first.’

All our garage sale items in the house are tagged, and tonight Jeff will do what’s left in the garage. We’ll be ready and Open for Business on Saturday.

Our shipper gave us a final quote, after a video review, and we need to get the cost down, so I’m going through my hand bags and editing. In the process, I’m cleaning them out and I realize – again – that I’ll need that shredder. I don’t dare sell it in the sale!

These handbags are full of old .ppt presentations or budget spreadsheets from whatever business meeting I was in the last time I carried them. And receipts and more receipts and just STUFF! The pile was impressive as I turned each of them upside down and sifted through the mound.

I now have 7 – yes, 7 – small nail clippers. Piles of old cold and allergy meds (probably expired). Lots and Lots of small tissue packets – I guess my nose used to run a lot, perhaps from traveling so much. Rubber bands by the hand fulls (I don’t use rubber bands, so this is a mystery). Business cards that could reach the ceiling, And pens from every vendor, contractor, trade show, conference, and gas station I’ve ever been to. Buckets full.

But I also found some of my better jewelry – things I didn’t even remember I owned. Earrings Jeff gifted me, for one occasion or another that I had switched out. And necklaces, if I went to the Spa at a hotel I was staying in. So I’m glad I went through it all.

I know I could have probably sold some items on Bag, Borrow and Steal or one of the many resale sites, but I have no time for that. I feel like a mother handing her babies to strangers, but do hope whoever buys these bags in this garage sale – at bargain basement prices, I might add – will enjoy them and go on adventures with them.

In a week we will be preparing for our trip to LA, and ‘The Interview’ (cue the scary music) dun, dun, dun! In the famous words of Sally Field, when she won the Oscar for Norma Rae – I hope ‘they like me, they really like me’ and we don’t have any hiccups in getting our visas.

Our visa packets are 100% completed. All the copies are made, which doubled the size of them yesterday. So now we’ll look like earnest students handing in term papers at the end of a very long semester.  But it feels good to be at the narrow end of the Cone of Uncertainty.

 

Road Trippin’

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Oh, how I love a road trip! It’s an American tradition. Since back in college, road trips represented freedom. You drive and you eat at random places. Seeing tourist signs for things like ‘The worlds largest ball of twine!’ or ‘The Corn Palace’. You stay at the closest hotel when you’re tired of driving. It’s awesome and unpredictable! And tonight, after Jeff gets home from work, we are heading to my parent’s with our UHaul truck full of things they can use, and boxes they’ve agreed to store for us. I feel like we’re in college again!

Last night, we loaded our king-sized adjustable bed into the truck – that was fun – and a couch for my son, and other boxes and treasures we are planning on storing there. Things I don’t want to go on a ship that could be lost forever.

This morning, I’m buzzing with excitement! We are driving to Portland in January. So the weather might present challenges. But Jeff will do all the driving, so he’ll swear and clutch the dashboard a lot less. And I get to look out the window at the scenery like a Golden Retriever! It’s going to be fun.

The last real road trip Jeff and I took together was when I took a job in Phoenix. But that trip was filled with nervous anticipation as we hadn’t yet found a place to live. Our SUV was full of all the stuff I thought I might need, until he moved down when the house was sold – with the rest of our stuff, the cats and the kids.

I had brought 9 large suit cases of clothes and a few other things. At one point, in Salt Lake, we were stopped by the police who were doing random searches for drug cars on the highway – seemed strange.

‘What’s in the back?’ asked the cop to my husband.

‘Those are her clothes.’ explained Jeff

‘That’s all your clothes?’ he asked – completely skeptical.

I leaned in to help smooth the way.

‘And shoes too.’ I clarified – just so he would understand. ‘I know. Just the essentials.’

My husband gave me serious side-eye. I wasn’t being helpful, apparently.

‘She has a new job in Phoenix, so we’re moving her down there to help set her up before we sell the house in Seattle.’

The cop looked at me like I was an alien.

‘Who are you working for in Phoenix?’ he asked me.

I told him, and then he asked who I worked for in Seattle and BINGO! the light went on.

‘Ah. OK I get it.’ he waved us away to head back to his car.

‘Wow! I never realized being in possession of too many clothes and shoes was a crime.’ I said to Jeff.

He looked at me in disbelief, and for a long moment he said nothing – then he sighed and shook his head before starting the car.

We won’t have that same problem this time. We’re just two people in a Uhaul – like probably hundreds of others on any given day across this country. Moving our stuff, complete with our cats – Clubber and Lucy. Heading off to new horizons. I’ve got the drinks in the cooler and the road food ready to go on the front seat. Now all I need is my driver!

Breaking News

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Often, we watch the news, but we don’t see the connection to ourselves. Especially in today’s crazy political climate. The day’s headlines fly by and it sounds a lot the teacher from the Charlie Brown cartoons. ‘Mwha, Mwha, Mwha Mwha Mwha Mwha’. Nothing more. And then suddenly, it does effect you. Very personally.

On December 22nd, I overnighted our FBI background checks to the US State Department to gain the Apostle. I checked the FedEx website and they arrived on the 26th. I called them last Friday to check on the Status and they told me they had logged them on the 29th – 3 days later. I wasn’t happy but I wasn’t so concerned because they are supposed to ‘process’ the documents in 2-4 business days. I had included an overnight FedEx return envelope so I figured I would get them this week.

Today, I checked the FedEx website but they haven’t been shipped yet. So I called the State Department again. It seems with the ‘cyclone bomb’ we’ve all heard about that dumped feet of snow on the East Coast of the US last week – it’s going to be at least 12-15 business days for them to finally get them back to me.

But here’s the catch. Our wonderful Congress is threatening a government shut down and the timing of it, if they reach no agreement, means that next Thursday will be the first day where there isn’t an employee in the Dept. of Authentications at the US State Department. So if our background checks are not Apostillized and put in the FedEx envelope by Wednesday of next week, we will not be able to get them translated in time for our visa appointment at the Consulate on January 29th.

It seems unbelievable to me that our going to Spain hinges on the US Congress – so little confidence have I in that august body. And now their shenanigans have an immediate, direct impact on me and my life. But, after I took 10 deep breaths, I decided I’m not going to let it bother me. This final piece in the puzzle is so entirely out of my hands, I won’t let it drain my energy. I have other things to do.

I’ve found a few more boxes of old papers in the garage and I finished shredding them. Just when I thought it might be safe to let go of the industrial shredder. I’m considering these documents I’m cutting into tiny pieces, an offering to the gods that control Document Hades.

‘Oh controllers of all things certified and notarized. Please – I’m begging you. Just this one last thing.’ I said today as I fed paper into our shredder.

I’m thinking they heard me. Right at that moment, the shredder overheated and stopped working. A clear sign that someone is listening on the other side.

A Gift Horse in the Mouth

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My Grandmother always said ‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth’. I think this stems from her childhood when horses were still a viable mode of transportation. Part of buying a horse is examining it’s teeth to help determine it’s health, and thus value. This I learned from my grandfather who owned a sheep farm. Today, no one born after 1970 would probably understand the reference, except people raised on horse ranches.

Essentially, the old euphemism means that if someone is giving you something for free, you don’t ask too many questions. You just accept it. A free horse was something to be valued – no matter what his teeth looked like. The old truck in our garage is the Gift Horse in this case. I’m sure if I raised the hood and looked at the engine – it wouldn’t pass anyone’s dental exam.

Jeff acquired this hunk of metal when I relocated to Phoenix for work and he was still in Snoqualmie, WA closing up our old house. He needed be able to take things to the local land fill and he was struggling with a renting truck to do the job. It was expensive on a one off basis, so he decided to buy something to make it easier.

‘I’ll just sell it afterwards.’ he assured me.

But he never sold it, he and drove it down from Seattle to Phoenix in June of that year, in 125 degree heat with no A/C, towing his beloved motorcycle behind him.  It took him twice as long to make the 1700 mile trip, as he overheated quite frequently. He finally showed up at our house in the middle of the night because he had to wait for the sun to go down from just north of Las Vegas. I had little sympathy for him. And when I saw the truck? I had even less.

To say I disliked this truck is an understatement. Our neighbors like it even less when it’s parked in the driveway. Jeff bought a new truck bed ‘So it wouldn’t look as bad’ and was going to fix it up to teach our daughter how to drive. It would be her first car, he announced. I did wonder if he knew her at all – she would rather walk for the rest of her life than drive that thing – but I let it go.

Now, I have to admit, I’m developing a fondness for that rusty bucket, during our march to close up this house. The truck is coming in handy. We can make dump runs to get rid of stuff. We can make large donation runs so that I don’t have to take 20 trips to Goodwill in my car.

‘It even has a CD player.’ he proudly pointed out on one of our first adventures in it.

‘Wow. It’s living in the 90’s already.’ I quipped sarcastically.

It has just one CD in the player. Tom Petty’s Greatest Hits. ‘Free Fallin” and “Last Dance with Mary Jane’ playing over and over. So I’ve taken to calling the truck ‘Mary Jane’.  Mary Jane is a 1986 Toyota – with windows you hand crank. Emilie didn’t know what they were when she rode in it the first time.

Jeff had coveted it in high school. He was raised incredibly poor and I think his thoughts of ‘Someday, I’ll have a truck just like that’ finally being realized, was too much for him to resist. And, ironically, we already have a buyer for it when we leave. Jeff smiled when he told me he would be selling it for more than he paid for it. Wait for it – $200 more. The look on his face was no less triumphant than a Wall Street hedge fund manager who had beat the market for a billon dollar gain. Money is money, I guess. But I’m a believer now. Our gift horse is pulling her own weight, so no need to look under the hood.

 

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

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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.

 

Making the List

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This New Year’s Eve, its time for our annual tradition. Its not just on Thanksgiving that we acknowledge what we’re grateful for. Every New Year’s Eve, for more than a decade, we’ve looked back at the year and remembered all the things we’re grateful for.

For years now, I’ve used this as the moment in the year to think about what I personally want the next year to look like. What do I want to change, improve, restore? I write it down and seal it in an envelope. Sometimes I add to or update my daily mantras.

Then I open last year’s envelope and look at what I wrote 364 days before and marvel at either all of the things that have come to be. Or ‘what a difference a year makes’. Sometimes, what I thought I wanted to become reality is no longer the priority. It’s a good reminder that sometimes things that we think are important, are really transient. And we need to let them go. This year will be no different.

As a couple, Jeff and I also make ‘The List’ every New Year’s. This is what we want to accomplish together – adventures, or home improvements or personal goals we need each other’s help with. Jeff swears by the power of ‘The List’. Some of the as yet unrealized things on the paper that has hung on our bathroom mirror for the last year, will come over to the new list. Other items will make their debut. But looking at The List daily helps us keep on track as we go through the year.

Another tradition that is a must every year, is the New Year’s cake. Usually it’s a simple yellow cake with chocolate frosting. But I bake in dollar gold coins and we cut it at midnight. The ones who get a gold coin have good luck for the year. This year I’m going to bake a banana bread with butter cream frosting to house the coins. Who says old traditions can’t be refreshed?

But no matter what, this year will be low key. Jeff has the plague I had for all last week, and Emilie is still recovering from having her wisdom teeth pulled. I knew there was a reason I got it first. Now I am healthy and well enough to take care of them. I’ll bake in a little extra love into this year’s cake – just in case.

I have a lot to be grateful for. This time last year, I was in a job I didn’t like. This year we’re preparing to move to Spain – and that wasn’t on anyone’s list from a year ago. Our world has shifted on it’s axis in the last 12 months. And the next 12 months? Well, I think we’re in for some adventures. And I’ll be grateful for each of them when we’re ringing in Ano Nuevo this time next year.

Sometimes You Just Gotta Roll Your Own

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This week has been filled with lessons. Some are more clear – like don’t believe the FBI when they say they’ll get to your fingerprints when the promise to on their website. Others are a little different and more experiential.

My first lesson came after we located many, many jars, old Gatorade bottles, zip lock baggies and piles of coins in the bottoms of drawers, boxes, coffee mugs holding pens and the list goes on. The sorting by denomination came next – taking out coins of other nationalities – and then stacking them in logical piles.

wrapping papers

Banks used to have coin machines onsite – where you took your bag of random coins and the machine counted them for you for free. But they don’t offer this to the public anymore, so businesses like CoinStar sprang up to fill the void. CoinStar owns RedBox too. They charge 11.9% to count all your coins in less than 5 minutes. Then they print you a receipt to take up to the store’s customer service counter and redeem it for cash. But you see, I looked at all my new found loot and decided I wasn’t sharing 11.9% with anyone – let alone a big corporation.

So I headed to Walmart, and here’s where the first lesson I learned was born. Lesson #1 – Don’t approach a Walmart employee and ask where they keep their ‘rolling papers’. I had visions of stacks of my treasure at home, floating in my head. They had visions of me rolling joints in my pajamas surrounded by bags of bar-b-que potato chips and baggies of little green leaves. My husband quickly corrected the misunderstanding.

‘She wants to roll the coins we have at home and put them into coin sleeves.’

The bored employee told us where the office supplies were and for 94cents per bag, I had rolling papers! I mean, coin sleeves.

The next lesson was even more profound. When I was done rolling my coins, I put them into a small black REI duffle bag and then drove to my local bank to deposit them. It’s not millions but I just felt like I had accomplished something. Stacking, counting, recounting cause I lost count, and finally, putting them all into those sleeves.

Lesson #2 – When you enter a bank with a black duffle bag, you have everyone’s attention immediately. Tellers, bank manager, other customers, both in the bank and in the parking lot. EVERYONE.  I smiled and lugged the very heavy bag into the bank and got in the queue. Customers in line with me seemed fidgety and nervous. Maybe it was the fact that I still had my sunglasses on – so I took them off.

Finally, a guy in an Army uniform asked me what was in the bag. I smiled and told him that we are moving and found all my husband’s change jars, etc. (some from as far back as his Air Force days because his ribbons and rank pins were in that jar too). The man laughed.

‘Dude, you freaked me out with the black duffle bag in the bank thing. But it’s cool you found all that money. Like getting a bonus.’

‘I know, right?’ I looked around and noticed the other people were a little less tense. ‘I didn’t even think about bringing a black duffle bag into the bank.’ and I smiled at the woman standing 10 feet behind me. She smiled back and shook her head.

I went up to the counter and the teller asked me what she could do for me. I hoisted up the duffle bag.

‘Please tell me there’s money in there.’

‘Yeah. It’s full of all the change in our house.’

‘You rolled it?’

‘Yes. I went to the Walmart and got rolling papers.’ Duh.

She laughed and shook her head as I piled it on the counter.

‘Maybe next time skip the black bank robber bag. You about gave me a heart attack when you walked in here.’

I agreed that I might modify my approach next time. Then $300 was swiftly deposited into my account, which will pay for our hotel in Los Angeles for our consulate appointment. And the gas to get there. Not that I’m counting pennies – haha. Sure it took a little effort but anything worth doing usually does. And just like that we’re one step closer to our view of the Mediterranean.

 

Renaissance Man

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My husband, Jeff, is a man of many hobbies. Since we first met, I’ve been amazed at his breadth of interests and his ability to master nearly anything he sets his mind to. He’s smart and unconventionally, athletic. An unbeatable combination that ensures he will be successful at whatever he tries, with some effort and focus. Both of which, he has in abundance.

office clean up

A software engineer, by trade, he started teaching himself to code at an early age, using dial-up modems, Compuserve accounts, and early AOL (yes, children – we’re just that old) and he’s continually kept his skills current. To do this in previous decades it meant he was always buying books – thick books – on new versions of this language or that. New tools that would help whatever employer he had at the time, or just peaked his interest. Our house is full of these books, but luckily in the ensuing years, all this has become open-source and readily available online.

I’ve spent weeks cleaning out our office as much as I could. But I didn’t feel comfortable disposing of old hardware or any of these old computer books. Who knew if they might be needed. So I’ve been waiting for Jeff to sort through them and make decisions, all the while profoundly aware that time is starting to speed up and we need to tackle it.

Today was that day, and we filled two recycling bins and a full, large garbage can with office schlock. We found other nonsense things from old white elephant parties. But as we speak, Jeff is spending this afternoon digitizing our old videos, transferring important documents from a pile of old hard drives, and scanning photos. I was thrilled that once he got started going through drawers, shelves, cabinets and the closet, he wasn’t resistant to pitching stuff. He just quietly dug out a couple of terabyte drives and got started.

His work resembled an archeological dig. Layer by layer, he unearthed change jars from over the years – old Gatorade bottles filled with money. While he continued his exploration in pith helmet and shovel, I rolled coins from around the world. Money from some of our adventures – Iceland, The Philippines, Mexico, and others. Over $300 USD later and those little coins will start working for us rather than performing as a paper weight or living at the bottom of old boxes in a closet. The office looks amazing – and empty! And my blood pressure has gone down significantly – one less thing,

Now, we just need to start on the garage. Jeff has lived an adventurous life where in his spare time he’s become an experienced white water kayaker, river guide, fly fisherman, off road motorcycle enthusiast, and he has built jeeps and trucks from the ground up. He can weld and machine his own car parts. And he sews his own gear for camping and his motorcycle adventures – like the one he took to Alaska and the Arctic Circle.  He even bought a piano to teach himself how to play.

Jeff is the kind of guy who, I believe, can do anything. This has caused friction in our house at times. Like when I suggested he build us a new deck or that we roof our own house.

‘I have no idea how to do either of those things.’ he said, like I was crazy.

‘It’s OK. We’ll buy a book. We both know how to read.’ I replied – knowing he can actually do anything.

We bought the books and together we did both of those things, and they turned out great. Afterwards, he admitted he was a little scared about tackling big projects, not knowing where to start. I laughed.

‘I knew you could do it – I wasn’t worried for a second.’ And I wasn’t.

So our attention is turning towards the garage, filled with the remnants of all of these activities – including a truck in a state of half repair, kayaks, rafts, motorcycle, camping/fishing equipment, and tools. Lots and lots of tools. But its late Sunday. And I’m declaring it a win. The office is done, the books are in the recycle bin. and we’ll leave the garage until next weekend. It will be interesting to see how Jeff edits his interests in moving to Spain. But I know one thing that makes me very happy. The truck won’t make the cut, but I’ll be taking my Renaissance Man with me – guaranteed.