I have, for the record, been formulating part of this post in my mind for awhile now.
The apartments in our building are mainly and usually occupied by American military members. The people who lived in our house before use were a married couple with a little girl. The husband was in the Air Force. I know this because I met them. When Josh and I got married, my parents bought me a plane ticket to come visit him in Germany as a wedding present. I was able to come and see Germany/the local area for about ten days. It was a fun experience, but it also helped me to feel more prepared and less nervous about moving over here. Josh was still in temporary housing when I came over, but he had been looking for a permanent place. There were two possible places Josh deemed to be the best, and I was able to look at both of them and add my two cents while I was here (I'm VERY thankful for that). When we looked at the place which is now where we live, I liked it the best of the two. Better lay out, more room, and a better "deal" with utilities included in the rent. The wife of the married couple showed me around and gave me some great advice on different aspects of the apartment and about the land lady (she did forget to mention that the land lady spies on you). I thought she seemed nice enough. Bitter, and ready to leave Germany, but nice enough. I have over the past few weeks changed my opinion. She is still nice enough, but there are certain things that lead me to believe that she is either lazy, or dumb. Or possibly both. We found out through casual conversation with the neighbors that the former tenants names were named Walter and Whitney, a true southern couple from Georgia. Josh and I have taken to referring to them as the Dub-Yahs.
One of the first things that struck me when I walked through the door of our house when I arrived was the smell. The house smelled horrible. Part of it was just that the house didn't smell familiar. The other part of it was mildew. Our main bathroom has no windows, is solid tile, and is at the end of the hallway. The door to the bathroom sits at a weird angle, so there is basically no ventilation. This makes a nice little breeding ground for mildew. Adding to the wet stuffiness of the bathroom was the nasty, awful shower curtain hanging around the shower. It was, at one point in time, clear... I think. But when I arrived the bottom half of it was pink, turning into shades of brown in some areas. Some of you may be asking why on earth Josh would shower with such a thing. Because he is a bachelor, a man, and a military man at that. I don't even know if he realized a shower curtain was there. Getting a new shower curtain was at the top of my list of things to do - directly under scrubbing the bathroom. The advantage of having an all tile bathroom is that you can take the mop directly to the walls. The color - and amount - of stuff that came off the walls when I mopped them... well... I don't need to describe it to you. As my mom helped me to clean the bathroom... I started to wonder. Surely, by no stretch of the imagination, is Josh a good house keeper. Again, he's a bachelor, a man, and a military man. What he considers to be clean and what I consider to be clean are two very different things. I have no doubt that he greatly contributed to the gross-ness of the bathroom. However. Josh hadn't been in the house for very long (less than a month) when we got there. There is no way that amount of mildew can build up in that amount of time. As I cleaned I really began to question how cleanly the female Dub-Yah had been. These questions continued as I was able to remove some stains off the toilet and shower with just a bit of time and effort. Beyond the bathroom I've wondered about the collection of underwear and socks that were left out in the open next to the washing machine (they were pink and had princesses on them... clearly not Josh's) in a pile of dryer lint. Or the thick layer of mildew I scrubbed off of the bottom of the kitchen cabinet. Really? REALLY? Do you not see it? Or not smell it? Or... just... don't clean it up? It's not that I'm really all that clean of a person... by no means am I trying to pretend to be. If anything, if I think there's a problem with something, then it must really be bad. All of these could just be the rush of leaving... or of not caring because they were leaving. Or... maybe it IS Josh after all. But I'm still leaning towards the thinking of laziness.
I spent the weekend painting the living room/dining room areas. It is yet another thing that has been on my "to do" list from day one. The dining room was a bright pastel green (yes, it is possible to have a bright pastel) while the living room was a coordinating bright blue pastel. It looked like poorly painted Easter eggs. I am usually all about color. I love color... especially bright colors. In high school my bedroom was sponge painted with multiple pastel colors. But these colors just... weren't my taste. They really, truly looked awful, especially with the brown tile floors and wood paneled ceilings. In addition to the irritating colors, there were an abundance of nail holes. Abundance doesn't seem to do it justice. I don't know if there were holes left over from the people before the Dub-Yahs, or if they had moved their pictures around... but there were an abnormal amount of holes in the walls... and this is coming from someone who hangs a lot of stuff on the walls. In some spots there weren't nail holes so much as there were just general holes in the wall. Quarter sized holes. I'm not even sure what would cause that, or why there would be so many of them. Prior to my painting, there was a fair amount of spackling that had to be done. As I was spackling I discovered in many places where nails and screws had been painted over. Again... why? I know it's annoying to have to remove it when you're just to have to re-hang something back in that spot, but really? You couldn't remove the nail/screw? You just painted over it? And painted over it badly. As I proceeded from spackling to taping, I was forced to see all the areas where paint had carelessly been splashed onto the tile floor or the woodwork and never cleaned up (for the record, German paint is not like American paint and it is VERY easy to clean up with soap and water, even if it dries on something). Not just little dribbles here and there, big splots and splatters... areas where the entire side of a wood door jamb are painted green. Why? Did you not tape? Obviously... But is it really that hard? Especially when you add in the fact that the land lord buys the paint as well as rollers AND a roll of tape. Really? It is just hard to imagine someone being so lazy.
Whenever something around the house is broken, fixed/patched badly, or is filthy... we have the habit of saying "Damn Dub-Yahs." In reality... it probably IS their fault.
The living room/dining room has now been transformed from shabby Easter egg to a warm neutral color. Once my stuff gets here and we can hang things, I think it will look homey. There is something cathartic about painting a room... a way to start over, do over. A literal clean slate. But also, marking your territory. Making something your own, setting it how you want it. I felt as I was painting over the tacky pastels and leaving behind a warm cream color that I was erasing the Dub-Yahs. Their time here was over and done, they are gone. This house, this living room, is mine now. This is my time.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Kirsten Lehman, the Sergeant's Wife
Last week was Josh's squadron picnic. His shop had the afternoon off, and he invited me to come to base for this picnic. He had to be there as a volunteer, so I figured this would be a way to meet the people he works with. And meet them I did.
I don't really know what I had envisioned for this picnic, but when I arrived it was on a much bigger scale than I imagined. There were people everywhere (I found out later Josh's squadron has 500 people in it), a MASSIVE grill full of food, a speaker system/DJ, six picnic tables overflowing with food, four coolers full of sodas, and two kegs. Wow. Picnic indeed. I have been reminded more and more lately that deep down I am (or can be) a shy person. As soon as I arrive somewhere new with new people I, for whatever reason I don't understand, clam up and don't speak. I get extremely nervous and want to be around someone I already know. Unfortunately for Josh, this usually means I'm right next to him in all public outings and situations. Borderline clinging. In some cases, beyond borderline into full on clinging. I realized I am a shy person when I had to start high school... and then start high school for a second time in a new state. I was reminded of this again when I started college, then hygiene school. Eventually I meet some people, feel comfortable, and get over any shyness (and by then most people are wondering what happened to the quiet person they met). But, as it is now, I'm definitely still in the "shy" phase. I was nervous about going to this picnic, and the site I arrived to did nothing to calm my nerves. I parked my car and walked along the outskirts of the picnic. To my relief I spotted Josh quickly. I was introduced to a few people in his shop and to his commander. It was my first time being introduced to a "commander" or something of the sort... and I really wasn't sure what I was suppose to do. The fact that the commander was drinking a beer from a plastic keg cup did help to make the situation seem a bit less formal. Josh and I got into the line for food with some of his co-workers. As we were approaching the table with the paper plates, his name was announced over the speakers. He walked over to a waiting MP. I watched him walk away into the parking lot. One of Josh's co-workers asked me if I knew what was going on. I didn't. From where I was standing I could see Josh's car, and he wasn't doing anything in or around it. I told his co-worker I thought it must have to do with my car because he wasn't near his. The co-worker and I decided to dish up and eat without Josh. As he was getting his plate together, he shook the mustard bottle. Something must have been wrong with the lid, because mustard shot out all over and covered me from head to toe on my right side. It makes me recall a memory from when my family was camping years ago. My cousin Keelan picked up a bottle of A1 and - without realizing the lid wasn't screwed on tight - shook it and got A1 sauce all over himself. Did I mention I was wearing a white sweat shirt? The co-worker apologized profusely. He's a young kid... I think he was really embarrassed. I assured him it was okay, I wasn't mad, not a big deal. The co-worker wandered off - again, I think out of embarrassment - and I sat down by myself on a bench. I'm sure it only took me about five minutes to eat my hamburger... but when you are sitting at a crowded picnic by yourself covered in mustard, it feels like a lot longer. I finished my food and was beginning to wonder what was wrong. Where was Josh? What could be taking so long?
Finally Josh arrived. The relief I felt at having someone I knew close by quickly faded as he told me why he'd been called away. My car had rolled out of its parking spot and hit a parked government vehicle. I gasped and covered my mouth with my hands. He had to be joking. How could this have happened? My car is an automatic. Do automatics do that? Josh said the car was in drive when he climbed in it to move it. I do a lot of dumb, absent minded things, and I will be the first to admit that I will not win any awards with my driving. However. I can promise I put the car into park. Promise. SWEAR. Swear on everything I can swear on. There was no way I was so excited to get to this picnic that I simply forgot to put the car into park. I did not use the parking brake. But I've always driven an automatic, and I've never used the parking brake. Bless Josh's heart - he told me it was possible for my car to "slip" gears. I've been meaning to google this to see if it is something that is actually possible... or if it's just something he told me to make me feel better. Either way, from now on I will be using the parking brake in every situation. Lucky for me there was no real damage done to the government car - a small black scuff mark on the rim. Frank came through like a true tank and had no visible damage.
We stayed at the picnic only long enough for Josh to get some food. I've never been as thankful for the fact that he is a fast eater as I was that afternoon. He asked me if I was sure I wanted to go, if I didn't want to stick around and try to meet some more people. I assured him - I was covered in mustard, and my car had hit another car. Yes. I was ready to go home. I am also positive anyone who met me that afternoon will remember my name and face. Kirsten Lehman? Lehman? OH YEAH - you're Sergeant Lehman's wife... the one who at the squadron picnic....
Aside from my shyness, there was one other thing affirmed at the picnic. I do not get along with a typical military wife. I told my friend Erin this, and she replied, "Well, are we really surprised by this?" It's not that I am not supportive of the military. Obviously I am - I have to be. I support my country, my husband's employer, and all the military represents and does. However. I'm not one of those HOO-RA, sticker on my car, Air Force logo wearing, bake sale volunteering, military preaching kind of spouses. Just not my style. I also went to college and worked VERY hard to earn a degree in a field I am passionate about. I want to have a job - a job in my career and degree field - not a job at the local daycare or craft shop. I can do a lot of things on my own and for myself. I have Josh - I am grateful and thankful for that - but I don't need him to do everything for me. Josh and I do not have children, and for the record for everyone, NO we do NOT plan on starting a family ANY time in the near or distant future. Not in the cards for us. That doesn't mean it won't be later on down the road, but for now, not planning on it. So... based on all the above stated facts... the other spouses I met at the picnic didn't have much in common with me. I did my best to try to meet people, and a few women came over and introduced themselves to me... but once we got past the pleasantries of our names, where we are from, where our husbands work... we didn't have a lot to say to each other. Nope, no kids. Nope, not planning on any right now. So no, definitely not interested in the squadron mommy and me play group, even if it does meet every week. Yes, I want to work, full time in fact. Actually I am a dental hygienist so I haven't considered looking into the daycare on base. No, I have not considered doing the training to be a "key spouse." No, I don't want to be a part of the squadron fundraising committee. And NO, I do not want to be on the squadron spouse email list. Yes. Not a lot to say to one another.
The men in Josh's shop will remember me for not properly parking my car, and possibly for being covered in mustard. The wives will remember me as "that bitch who..."
At least my reputation proceeds me.
I don't really know what I had envisioned for this picnic, but when I arrived it was on a much bigger scale than I imagined. There were people everywhere (I found out later Josh's squadron has 500 people in it), a MASSIVE grill full of food, a speaker system/DJ, six picnic tables overflowing with food, four coolers full of sodas, and two kegs. Wow. Picnic indeed. I have been reminded more and more lately that deep down I am (or can be) a shy person. As soon as I arrive somewhere new with new people I, for whatever reason I don't understand, clam up and don't speak. I get extremely nervous and want to be around someone I already know. Unfortunately for Josh, this usually means I'm right next to him in all public outings and situations. Borderline clinging. In some cases, beyond borderline into full on clinging. I realized I am a shy person when I had to start high school... and then start high school for a second time in a new state. I was reminded of this again when I started college, then hygiene school. Eventually I meet some people, feel comfortable, and get over any shyness (and by then most people are wondering what happened to the quiet person they met). But, as it is now, I'm definitely still in the "shy" phase. I was nervous about going to this picnic, and the site I arrived to did nothing to calm my nerves. I parked my car and walked along the outskirts of the picnic. To my relief I spotted Josh quickly. I was introduced to a few people in his shop and to his commander. It was my first time being introduced to a "commander" or something of the sort... and I really wasn't sure what I was suppose to do. The fact that the commander was drinking a beer from a plastic keg cup did help to make the situation seem a bit less formal. Josh and I got into the line for food with some of his co-workers. As we were approaching the table with the paper plates, his name was announced over the speakers. He walked over to a waiting MP. I watched him walk away into the parking lot. One of Josh's co-workers asked me if I knew what was going on. I didn't. From where I was standing I could see Josh's car, and he wasn't doing anything in or around it. I told his co-worker I thought it must have to do with my car because he wasn't near his. The co-worker and I decided to dish up and eat without Josh. As he was getting his plate together, he shook the mustard bottle. Something must have been wrong with the lid, because mustard shot out all over and covered me from head to toe on my right side. It makes me recall a memory from when my family was camping years ago. My cousin Keelan picked up a bottle of A1 and - without realizing the lid wasn't screwed on tight - shook it and got A1 sauce all over himself. Did I mention I was wearing a white sweat shirt? The co-worker apologized profusely. He's a young kid... I think he was really embarrassed. I assured him it was okay, I wasn't mad, not a big deal. The co-worker wandered off - again, I think out of embarrassment - and I sat down by myself on a bench. I'm sure it only took me about five minutes to eat my hamburger... but when you are sitting at a crowded picnic by yourself covered in mustard, it feels like a lot longer. I finished my food and was beginning to wonder what was wrong. Where was Josh? What could be taking so long?
Finally Josh arrived. The relief I felt at having someone I knew close by quickly faded as he told me why he'd been called away. My car had rolled out of its parking spot and hit a parked government vehicle. I gasped and covered my mouth with my hands. He had to be joking. How could this have happened? My car is an automatic. Do automatics do that? Josh said the car was in drive when he climbed in it to move it. I do a lot of dumb, absent minded things, and I will be the first to admit that I will not win any awards with my driving. However. I can promise I put the car into park. Promise. SWEAR. Swear on everything I can swear on. There was no way I was so excited to get to this picnic that I simply forgot to put the car into park. I did not use the parking brake. But I've always driven an automatic, and I've never used the parking brake. Bless Josh's heart - he told me it was possible for my car to "slip" gears. I've been meaning to google this to see if it is something that is actually possible... or if it's just something he told me to make me feel better. Either way, from now on I will be using the parking brake in every situation. Lucky for me there was no real damage done to the government car - a small black scuff mark on the rim. Frank came through like a true tank and had no visible damage.
We stayed at the picnic only long enough for Josh to get some food. I've never been as thankful for the fact that he is a fast eater as I was that afternoon. He asked me if I was sure I wanted to go, if I didn't want to stick around and try to meet some more people. I assured him - I was covered in mustard, and my car had hit another car. Yes. I was ready to go home. I am also positive anyone who met me that afternoon will remember my name and face. Kirsten Lehman? Lehman? OH YEAH - you're Sergeant Lehman's wife... the one who at the squadron picnic....
Aside from my shyness, there was one other thing affirmed at the picnic. I do not get along with a typical military wife. I told my friend Erin this, and she replied, "Well, are we really surprised by this?" It's not that I am not supportive of the military. Obviously I am - I have to be. I support my country, my husband's employer, and all the military represents and does. However. I'm not one of those HOO-RA, sticker on my car, Air Force logo wearing, bake sale volunteering, military preaching kind of spouses. Just not my style. I also went to college and worked VERY hard to earn a degree in a field I am passionate about. I want to have a job - a job in my career and degree field - not a job at the local daycare or craft shop. I can do a lot of things on my own and for myself. I have Josh - I am grateful and thankful for that - but I don't need him to do everything for me. Josh and I do not have children, and for the record for everyone, NO we do NOT plan on starting a family ANY time in the near or distant future. Not in the cards for us. That doesn't mean it won't be later on down the road, but for now, not planning on it. So... based on all the above stated facts... the other spouses I met at the picnic didn't have much in common with me. I did my best to try to meet people, and a few women came over and introduced themselves to me... but once we got past the pleasantries of our names, where we are from, where our husbands work... we didn't have a lot to say to each other. Nope, no kids. Nope, not planning on any right now. So no, definitely not interested in the squadron mommy and me play group, even if it does meet every week. Yes, I want to work, full time in fact. Actually I am a dental hygienist so I haven't considered looking into the daycare on base. No, I have not considered doing the training to be a "key spouse." No, I don't want to be a part of the squadron fundraising committee. And NO, I do not want to be on the squadron spouse email list. Yes. Not a lot to say to one another.
The men in Josh's shop will remember me for not properly parking my car, and possibly for being covered in mustard. The wives will remember me as "that bitch who..."
At least my reputation proceeds me.
Friday, July 22, 2011
The Clampits
When I first "officially" met our neighbors Brian and Amanda, they were sitting outside drinking beer while their dog was playing in an inflatable pool. They are embarrassed by our first meeting, and apparently worried about what we would think of them. To which I responded, "Yeah... we don't care. We're from Montana so... we're pretty much like the Clampits." They laughed at this, but last night we lived up to our self proclaimed title.
I have become a tad obsessed with a website for the base which is similar to Craigslist in the states called Spangdahlem yard sales. Someone had recommended the site to me as a way to find things you needed - and you can find pretty much anything on there. To date we have found a nightstand, 220v toaster, a corner cabinet, and Frank. However, I have discovered - like so many things in life, that if something really is a good deal it disappears quickly. Combining that knowledge with my lack of a job... I check out Spang yardsales multiple times throughout the day. This has paid off - especially in the case of Frank. We were the first people to call about him, and the seller got eight other calls after us. In addition to Frank, I've found a few scores of free things. Who doesn't love to get something for free? I certainly LOVE to get something free. I'm not above it. A few weeks ago I found a rocking chair someone was giving away for free. It is a wood rocking chair that was painted a bright blue which was chipping and peeling off. I figured it would be a good project for me to refinish it. And hey - free chair! When we were buying the sandpaper I'd need to start to refinish the chair, Josh asked me if I wanted to buy a sander. I laughed at him and told him no, I'd do it by hand. I thought it was just one of his man ploys to attempt to accumulate another power tool. After one afternoon of sanding away on the rocking chair I realized that he'd been asking about a sander because he truly wanted to make my life easier. I have stubbornly sanded away on this chair off and on for about a week and a half. I can only work on it for about an hour or two before my arms get tired and I get frustrated. It is coming along... slowly. I think in the end it will turn out nicely. However, I believe I'm going to let Josh buy a sander. Not only because I am tired of sanding away old blue paint by hand, but because I acquired another free project for myself. Yesterday someone listed on yard sales an "antique queen bed" for free. I responded to the add, and made arrangements to pick up the bed when Josh got off work. I really had no idea if it was just a headboard, or a full bed. I didn't know what it looked like. In all reality, I didn't care. It was free. Who cares. If it looks terrible, I'll find a way to fix it up. And hey - we're not out anything cause we didn't buy it.
Josh came home from work exhausted and tired. He wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of having to leave to go pick something up, but he changed out of his uniform as I plugged the address of the bed into our GPS. As we drove towards our destination, I could see a change in the weather. Recently we've been having cool temperatures and showers. At our house the weather had been the same as it has the last few days. However, as we drove it started to rain, which turned into a heavy downpour. Wind was whipping the trees along the roadside. Josh said the base had been under a tornado warning all afternoon. I wasn't aware that Germany, specifically our area of Germany, got tornadoes. If a tornado was to touch down, what sort of warning system do they have? We arrived at the house where the bed was and were immediately soaked to the bone the moment we stepped out of the car. I knocked on the door and a girl holding a baby opened the door. She was under five feet tall and couldn't have weighed more than 100 pounds. She looked about 16, but in reality I'm going to guess that she's around 19 or 20. She explained to me that her and her husband (she's old enough to be married? That kid is hers?) were planning on refinishing the bed themselves and just never got around to it. I took a peak at the dismantled bed and saw that it was, indeed, a bed. Headboard, footboard, and rails. All solid wood.
Josh had been busy out in the car laying the back seats down. I have teased Josh about his car, and we make fun of his little Ford hatchback, but we have hauled a lot of things (things I never thought would fit in the car) with the seats folded down. He carried out the footboard and rails, and then spent five minutes trying to arrange the headboard on top of the other pieces. He turned to me, and said the headboard was wider than the car. There was no way it was going to fit inside. We stared at each other for a moment - rain running off of my hair into my eyes and down his glasses. Josh finally said, "Well. We can drive on base and buy some rope." Luckily the bed was located right by base and it only took us about five minutes to get there. As we returned to get the headboard it started to rain harder. Josh lifted the headboard and placed it on the roof of the car. I rolled down all four of the windows about halfway. We tied the headboard to the top of the car (I say we, but it was really Josh using his Boy Scout skills to strap it down). When Josh deemed the headboard secure, we climbed into the car and sat upon wet seats. As we started to drive home in the pouring rain, the wind picked up. Clearly the tornado warning was still in effect. Josh and I each stuck an arm out the window to press down/hang on to the headboard as the wind pulled at it. I had visions of the wind ripping the headboard off the car and sending it flying backwards into the windshield and hood of the expensive Audi driving behind us. Our FREE headboard into the $100,000 Audi. I clung to the headboard as tight as I could. Within seconds my arm was soaking wet, and in a few minutes, it had started to ache from cold. As we got closer to home, it was numb. Somehow - be it good luck, or us hanging onto it - we made it home without the headboard falling off. I can only imagine what we looked like as we drove up to our house in a purple Ford hatchback with a headboard tied to the roof... and then what we looked like as we stepped outside of the car with our wet clothes clinging to our bodies. Yes. The Clampits have arrived.
Instead of carrying the heavy solid wood bed up two flights of stairs, I suggested we leave it in our garage. It will be the place where I work on it anyways. I was looking over the head and foot boards, and envisioning how much time it would take me to sand both of them by hand. Josh must have seen the look on my face, because he chuckled before asking, "So. Do you want to buy a sander now?" Yes. Yes I do.
I have become a tad obsessed with a website for the base which is similar to Craigslist in the states called Spangdahlem yard sales. Someone had recommended the site to me as a way to find things you needed - and you can find pretty much anything on there. To date we have found a nightstand, 220v toaster, a corner cabinet, and Frank. However, I have discovered - like so many things in life, that if something really is a good deal it disappears quickly. Combining that knowledge with my lack of a job... I check out Spang yardsales multiple times throughout the day. This has paid off - especially in the case of Frank. We were the first people to call about him, and the seller got eight other calls after us. In addition to Frank, I've found a few scores of free things. Who doesn't love to get something for free? I certainly LOVE to get something free. I'm not above it. A few weeks ago I found a rocking chair someone was giving away for free. It is a wood rocking chair that was painted a bright blue which was chipping and peeling off. I figured it would be a good project for me to refinish it. And hey - free chair! When we were buying the sandpaper I'd need to start to refinish the chair, Josh asked me if I wanted to buy a sander. I laughed at him and told him no, I'd do it by hand. I thought it was just one of his man ploys to attempt to accumulate another power tool. After one afternoon of sanding away on the rocking chair I realized that he'd been asking about a sander because he truly wanted to make my life easier. I have stubbornly sanded away on this chair off and on for about a week and a half. I can only work on it for about an hour or two before my arms get tired and I get frustrated. It is coming along... slowly. I think in the end it will turn out nicely. However, I believe I'm going to let Josh buy a sander. Not only because I am tired of sanding away old blue paint by hand, but because I acquired another free project for myself. Yesterday someone listed on yard sales an "antique queen bed" for free. I responded to the add, and made arrangements to pick up the bed when Josh got off work. I really had no idea if it was just a headboard, or a full bed. I didn't know what it looked like. In all reality, I didn't care. It was free. Who cares. If it looks terrible, I'll find a way to fix it up. And hey - we're not out anything cause we didn't buy it.
Josh came home from work exhausted and tired. He wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of having to leave to go pick something up, but he changed out of his uniform as I plugged the address of the bed into our GPS. As we drove towards our destination, I could see a change in the weather. Recently we've been having cool temperatures and showers. At our house the weather had been the same as it has the last few days. However, as we drove it started to rain, which turned into a heavy downpour. Wind was whipping the trees along the roadside. Josh said the base had been under a tornado warning all afternoon. I wasn't aware that Germany, specifically our area of Germany, got tornadoes. If a tornado was to touch down, what sort of warning system do they have? We arrived at the house where the bed was and were immediately soaked to the bone the moment we stepped out of the car. I knocked on the door and a girl holding a baby opened the door. She was under five feet tall and couldn't have weighed more than 100 pounds. She looked about 16, but in reality I'm going to guess that she's around 19 or 20. She explained to me that her and her husband (she's old enough to be married? That kid is hers?) were planning on refinishing the bed themselves and just never got around to it. I took a peak at the dismantled bed and saw that it was, indeed, a bed. Headboard, footboard, and rails. All solid wood.
Josh had been busy out in the car laying the back seats down. I have teased Josh about his car, and we make fun of his little Ford hatchback, but we have hauled a lot of things (things I never thought would fit in the car) with the seats folded down. He carried out the footboard and rails, and then spent five minutes trying to arrange the headboard on top of the other pieces. He turned to me, and said the headboard was wider than the car. There was no way it was going to fit inside. We stared at each other for a moment - rain running off of my hair into my eyes and down his glasses. Josh finally said, "Well. We can drive on base and buy some rope." Luckily the bed was located right by base and it only took us about five minutes to get there. As we returned to get the headboard it started to rain harder. Josh lifted the headboard and placed it on the roof of the car. I rolled down all four of the windows about halfway. We tied the headboard to the top of the car (I say we, but it was really Josh using his Boy Scout skills to strap it down). When Josh deemed the headboard secure, we climbed into the car and sat upon wet seats. As we started to drive home in the pouring rain, the wind picked up. Clearly the tornado warning was still in effect. Josh and I each stuck an arm out the window to press down/hang on to the headboard as the wind pulled at it. I had visions of the wind ripping the headboard off the car and sending it flying backwards into the windshield and hood of the expensive Audi driving behind us. Our FREE headboard into the $100,000 Audi. I clung to the headboard as tight as I could. Within seconds my arm was soaking wet, and in a few minutes, it had started to ache from cold. As we got closer to home, it was numb. Somehow - be it good luck, or us hanging onto it - we made it home without the headboard falling off. I can only imagine what we looked like as we drove up to our house in a purple Ford hatchback with a headboard tied to the roof... and then what we looked like as we stepped outside of the car with our wet clothes clinging to our bodies. Yes. The Clampits have arrived.
Instead of carrying the heavy solid wood bed up two flights of stairs, I suggested we leave it in our garage. It will be the place where I work on it anyways. I was looking over the head and foot boards, and envisioning how much time it would take me to sand both of them by hand. Josh must have seen the look on my face, because he chuckled before asking, "So. Do you want to buy a sander now?" Yes. Yes I do.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Infinately patient
Josh found out Friday that he had been promoted to his next rank of Technical Sergeant, or Tech Sergeant as everyone calls it. Originally when the results had come out of who got promoted Josh wasn't on the list, so we figured he'd be trying again for it next year. But he found out Friday that he had made it, and will be officially promoted sometime in August or September. I am very proud of him and excited. To celebrate we went to check out a beverage warehouse we'd heard about. Yes, you read correctly. We went to a beverage warehouse to celebrate. We discovered a little piece of heaven. This warehouse had tons of beer for sale by the case, and the prices were definitely the cheapest we've seen. It also had a large selection of wine and mixers. It was hard to not get carried away, although the store provides flatbed carts to make it possible for you to get carried away. After loading up the car, and looking like a pair of alcoholics, we decided to go celebrate Josh's promotion by having dinner. We found a little Greek restaurant that had a beautiful outdoor beer garden. Our table was right under the trees, and we had a very picturesque few of a "typical" German street. Great people watching. Our waiter brought over two shot glasses full of something clear with our menus. Josh and I tentatively raised our glasses and took a small sip. It was a shot of black licorice alcohol. So... free shot while you order? I don't like black licorice so I gave my shot to Josh and told him I would drive home. I can think of a list of people off the top of my head who would be excited to go to this place simply for the free shot. The food was amazing, the atmosphere was laid back, and it was beautiful sitting outdoors. However. It is challenging to order Greek food off of a menu that is only in German, and to order said food from a Greek waiter who speaks only German. Like a lot of situations, I ordered just figuring that I would be surprised by whatever arrived in front of me.
Saturday we drove to Ramstein, the other Air Force base, to do some shopping because they have a lot more available to them than we do. We met up with Josh's friends again. They wanted to go to a roller derby, so we went along with them. I've never seen roller derby before. However... it was interesting to watch. The girls held up to my expectations in their costumes. Everyone had on bright colors, crazy tights, glitter, ripped tops, lots of make-up. That part was fun to see. It's also fun to see a girl in bright green fishnet tights elbow another girl in the sternum. The place where we were watching this match was in a gym where they had just taped off the borders of the ring. I had expected more of an actual ring... it would be interesting to see how differently they skate in a real ring. But. It was a fun afternoon, and something I can check off my list to say that I've done.
Sunday Josh agreed to get one our spare rooms cleaned out. This room has his computer desk in it and a bunch of wardrobes for storage in it, so we've been referring to it as an "office." But the office has been buried under stuff since before I got here. I arrived to find the room full of boxes, and piles of stuff that had been unpacked but not put away (which isn't surprising because Josh's stuff arrived about 5 days before I did). I've wanted to clean up the room and get things situated, but I haven't been able to because everything in the room is Josh's. He's the one who needs to sort through it. I've wanted that room clean from the moment I stepped foot in the house. On Sunday Josh started to work on it. This is where I realized how much of a pack rat my husband is. I finally told him that we were not going to keep the factory box that the blu-ray player came in for the next time we move because we will have movers moving us. Movers who have boxes... and bubble wrap. We're not going to hang onto a box for three years. Not gunna do it. We also played a lot of the game of "This? What is this? Why do you have it? When did you last use it? Did you know that you had it?" I also discovered a stash of playing cards. To anyone who reads this: Please do NOT send us any playing cards. We have enough playing cards to last us until the end of time. A gallon ziplock bag FULL of playing cards. And poker chips! If poker chips were real money we could retire right now and live off of Josh's poker chips. As much as I love Josh, he is lazy. Well, lazy to a point. When it comes to his job, Josh works harder than any person I know. If it is a hobby or something Josh loves to do, he will work hard. But when it comes to something like cleaning, he wants to find the quickest, easiest, most painless way to get it done. Or find a way to not do it at all. Our house has multiple doors that were taken off the hinges by the people before us. The doors that were taken off open up our living room/kitchen/hallway. I agree that they shouldn't be there. However... the doors that were taken off were just leaning against the wall in the laundry room, the hallway, and the office. I wanted the doors out of sight. I also wanted them in a place where they were not going to take up valuable storage space, which is what they were doing in the laundry room. I asked Josh if we could take them downstairs to the garage to store while we're here. He said he didn't want to because that would mean that he'd have to haul all the doors back up the stairs when we move. Yes. Yes you will. And your point is...? So Josh didn't want to move the doors because it was something he would have to move again in the future, so he was content to leave them where they were. I was not content with this. So I, being at least 50 pounds lighter and significantly weaker than Josh, decided that I would carry the doors down two flights of stairs to our garage because I wanted them out of the house. I got one door as far as our door to the stairwell before I realized that this was not going to work. There is an alcove right by our door where the stairs curve upwards. I figured in this area would be a great place to store our doors (since there was already a collection of random things stored there to begin with). Hauling four doors just outside of our door was much easier than hauling them downstairs. Stubbornness prevailed. By the end of the afternoon our office was cleared out and for the first time since arriving I could see the floor. There is still a stack of things to be sorted through (such an endless process), however I'm happy with what we got done.
I was reminded in this process that I am a complete control freak, and that I am blessed with a husband who is infinitely patient. You would have to be to be married to me. I am sure I tested the boundaries of his patience many times throughout the day. At the end of the day I hugged him and said "I love you. I'm lucky you're patient" to which Josh responded "You're welcome."
Saturday we drove to Ramstein, the other Air Force base, to do some shopping because they have a lot more available to them than we do. We met up with Josh's friends again. They wanted to go to a roller derby, so we went along with them. I've never seen roller derby before. However... it was interesting to watch. The girls held up to my expectations in their costumes. Everyone had on bright colors, crazy tights, glitter, ripped tops, lots of make-up. That part was fun to see. It's also fun to see a girl in bright green fishnet tights elbow another girl in the sternum. The place where we were watching this match was in a gym where they had just taped off the borders of the ring. I had expected more of an actual ring... it would be interesting to see how differently they skate in a real ring. But. It was a fun afternoon, and something I can check off my list to say that I've done.
Sunday Josh agreed to get one our spare rooms cleaned out. This room has his computer desk in it and a bunch of wardrobes for storage in it, so we've been referring to it as an "office." But the office has been buried under stuff since before I got here. I arrived to find the room full of boxes, and piles of stuff that had been unpacked but not put away (which isn't surprising because Josh's stuff arrived about 5 days before I did). I've wanted to clean up the room and get things situated, but I haven't been able to because everything in the room is Josh's. He's the one who needs to sort through it. I've wanted that room clean from the moment I stepped foot in the house. On Sunday Josh started to work on it. This is where I realized how much of a pack rat my husband is. I finally told him that we were not going to keep the factory box that the blu-ray player came in for the next time we move because we will have movers moving us. Movers who have boxes... and bubble wrap. We're not going to hang onto a box for three years. Not gunna do it. We also played a lot of the game of "This? What is this? Why do you have it? When did you last use it? Did you know that you had it?" I also discovered a stash of playing cards. To anyone who reads this: Please do NOT send us any playing cards. We have enough playing cards to last us until the end of time. A gallon ziplock bag FULL of playing cards. And poker chips! If poker chips were real money we could retire right now and live off of Josh's poker chips. As much as I love Josh, he is lazy. Well, lazy to a point. When it comes to his job, Josh works harder than any person I know. If it is a hobby or something Josh loves to do, he will work hard. But when it comes to something like cleaning, he wants to find the quickest, easiest, most painless way to get it done. Or find a way to not do it at all. Our house has multiple doors that were taken off the hinges by the people before us. The doors that were taken off open up our living room/kitchen/hallway. I agree that they shouldn't be there. However... the doors that were taken off were just leaning against the wall in the laundry room, the hallway, and the office. I wanted the doors out of sight. I also wanted them in a place where they were not going to take up valuable storage space, which is what they were doing in the laundry room. I asked Josh if we could take them downstairs to the garage to store while we're here. He said he didn't want to because that would mean that he'd have to haul all the doors back up the stairs when we move. Yes. Yes you will. And your point is...? So Josh didn't want to move the doors because it was something he would have to move again in the future, so he was content to leave them where they were. I was not content with this. So I, being at least 50 pounds lighter and significantly weaker than Josh, decided that I would carry the doors down two flights of stairs to our garage because I wanted them out of the house. I got one door as far as our door to the stairwell before I realized that this was not going to work. There is an alcove right by our door where the stairs curve upwards. I figured in this area would be a great place to store our doors (since there was already a collection of random things stored there to begin with). Hauling four doors just outside of our door was much easier than hauling them downstairs. Stubbornness prevailed. By the end of the afternoon our office was cleared out and for the first time since arriving I could see the floor. There is still a stack of things to be sorted through (such an endless process), however I'm happy with what we got done.
I was reminded in this process that I am a complete control freak, and that I am blessed with a husband who is infinitely patient. You would have to be to be married to me. I am sure I tested the boundaries of his patience many times throughout the day. At the end of the day I hugged him and said "I love you. I'm lucky you're patient" to which Josh responded "You're welcome."
Thursday, July 14, 2011
I Love the Internet
I am addicted to the internet. I feel safe in admitting that to everyone. I am 100% without a doubt addicted to the internet. We have been stealing someone's wireless signal until we can get internet of our own. Luckily, they are coming by on the 21st so we will have internet. But until then, we are stealing someone's signal. I don't feel bad that we're using someone else's internet because I figure if you are stupid enough to not have it password protected, then you deserve to have it stolen. And... if it's not password protected are they really that technology savvy and are they really using the internet all that often? However. We have been foiled. The internet we were using will no longer let us connect... there isn't a password, but they won't let us connect. Tricky. I discovered this on Tuesday morning. I usually talk with my mom on Skype when it is morning in Montana (afternoon here) and I didn't want her to think something was wrong (because she would if I wasn't there) so I drove onto base to the library to use the computer. I spent awhile doing my usual internet things (check facebook, check the base craigslist, ect) and then came back home. It was when I was at home that I realized how often I look at things online or play around online to amuse myself (especially right now). I really was at a loss. I felt as if I had no human contact whatsoever. In reality, without the internet I didn't have anyway to contact anyone. I wasn't quite sure what to do with this extra time I suddenly had... I have nothing but time right now... but now I felt like I had even more. I had never realized how much time I could waste during the day online, or how much of my communication is through the internet. Lucky for us our neighbor downstairs offered to let us use their password/wireless until we get our internet installed. I am back, connected to the world, and completely indulging in my delicious addiction.
Speaking of my downstairs neighbors... Somehow, 6000 miles from Montana... Josh and I have found down-home people. The first time I officially met our neighbors Brian and Amanda(I say official because it was the first time I was awake, not jet-lagged, and not wearing yoga pants) they were sitting outside in lawn chairs drinking beer as their bulldog Meatloaf played in an inflatable pool. Beautiful. A few days later we were walking inside and Amanda told me the book I had in my hands was a good one, that she had liked it. She also invited me to check out her books and borrow anything I wanted. I have found someone who drinks beer. And reads. Excellent. This past weekend they invited us downstairs to play Monopoly with them. Anyone who knows me knows that I really do not like playing games. I'm not even sure why. I used to love to play games as a kid. However, I think as I got older I just lost any sort of competitiveness... and it is a weird feeling to play a game and not be committed to it in any way... to not care if you win, lose, or even finish the game. I have discovered that the times I do agree to play a game or join a game night that I enjoy myself when I am in the company of great people. This game of Monopoly was one of those times when I enjoyed myself. Our one game lasted four and half hours... after a twelve pack of beer and two bottles of wine, we decided to call it quits at 2 am. Now our neighbor Brian has gotten into the habit whenever he's outside and wants something/has a question that he just yells "JOSH!" We always have our windows opened or cracked, and we always hear him yell. Last night he yelled to ask if we had any root beer because he wanted to make root beer floats. I went grocery shopping today and I bought a two liter bottle of root beer and left on their doorstep. It is exciting to have found some friends... but what is the best part is that they are yell-at-the-window-drink-a-case-of-beer-borrow-internet-give-root-beer kind of people.
Something that may shock those who know me even more than the fact that I went to and enjoyed a game night... was that it has awakened some sort of family game night twitch inside of me. I had a lot of fun playing Monopoly, but more than have fun it reminded me of all the fun times I had playing games with my family as a kid. It really made me miss all the fun board games I'd had/played as a child... Josh agreed. When we had to go shopping on base a few days ago I found an area of clearance toys. We went home with two puzzles and a deck of Uno. We started working on the puzzle that night... and it became a nightly activity until we finished the puzzle last night. We were like an old married couple... sitting around working on a puzzle. But a cute old married couple buzzed on wine.
Speaking of my downstairs neighbors... Somehow, 6000 miles from Montana... Josh and I have found down-home people. The first time I officially met our neighbors Brian and Amanda(I say official because it was the first time I was awake, not jet-lagged, and not wearing yoga pants) they were sitting outside in lawn chairs drinking beer as their bulldog Meatloaf played in an inflatable pool. Beautiful. A few days later we were walking inside and Amanda told me the book I had in my hands was a good one, that she had liked it. She also invited me to check out her books and borrow anything I wanted. I have found someone who drinks beer. And reads. Excellent. This past weekend they invited us downstairs to play Monopoly with them. Anyone who knows me knows that I really do not like playing games. I'm not even sure why. I used to love to play games as a kid. However, I think as I got older I just lost any sort of competitiveness... and it is a weird feeling to play a game and not be committed to it in any way... to not care if you win, lose, or even finish the game. I have discovered that the times I do agree to play a game or join a game night that I enjoy myself when I am in the company of great people. This game of Monopoly was one of those times when I enjoyed myself. Our one game lasted four and half hours... after a twelve pack of beer and two bottles of wine, we decided to call it quits at 2 am. Now our neighbor Brian has gotten into the habit whenever he's outside and wants something/has a question that he just yells "JOSH!" We always have our windows opened or cracked, and we always hear him yell. Last night he yelled to ask if we had any root beer because he wanted to make root beer floats. I went grocery shopping today and I bought a two liter bottle of root beer and left on their doorstep. It is exciting to have found some friends... but what is the best part is that they are yell-at-the-window-drink-a-case-of-beer-borrow-internet-give-root-beer kind of people.
Something that may shock those who know me even more than the fact that I went to and enjoyed a game night... was that it has awakened some sort of family game night twitch inside of me. I had a lot of fun playing Monopoly, but more than have fun it reminded me of all the fun times I had playing games with my family as a kid. It really made me miss all the fun board games I'd had/played as a child... Josh agreed. When we had to go shopping on base a few days ago I found an area of clearance toys. We went home with two puzzles and a deck of Uno. We started working on the puzzle that night... and it became a nightly activity until we finished the puzzle last night. We were like an old married couple... sitting around working on a puzzle. But a cute old married couple buzzed on wine.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Banana pound cake
I love to bake. My first baking experience must be shared.
When we arrived in Germany, I discovered some frozen ripe bananas in the freezer. They had become too ripe and Josh froze them to use later to make banana bread. I think he secretly was hoping that I would make it. I have been tempted to bake some banana bread, but I didn't have any of my baking things, and no recipe. My mom emailed me the recipe over the weekend, and yesterday I decided to attempt to make some banana bread. I use the word attempt (which isn't my usual word of choice when it comes to baking) because I felt there were a lot of factors working against me. German stoves/ovens are much smaller than those in the US. When I came to visit Josh in April I had made a casserole in the oven and it took double the usual time to cook. I assume it's from the oven being so small and a lack of heat circulation... or something... I'm sure my middle school science teacher Mr. Litz could explain it in depth (or my dad could)... but I don't really care to know the real details. The oven is also electric, and I had been spoiled in my house baking with a gas oven. VERY spoiled. I was also going to be mixing/measuring everything with Josh's meager kitchen supplies instead of my own. So I was going to be baking in a smaller, electric oven... with none of my usual gizmos and gadgets that I love.
I measured out margarine and sugar putting them together in a bowl... and then looked around for something to mix it with. My options were a plastic serving spoon, and a whisk. Clearly, I wasn't thinking ahead. I chose the whisk. For those of you who are thinking I made the right choice, you have never had to clean margarine out of the wires of a whisk. The mixing wasn't nearly as hard as I thought it was going to be... it was keeping the whisk clear enough to effectively mix that was a challenge. When I thought of my KitchenAid mixer in a box, in a shipping container somewhere between Montana and here... it made me sad. I have never used frozen bananas for bread, or for anything for that matter. I really wasn't sure what the proper procedure was for handling frozen bananas. Do you let them thaw? Or do you somehow chop them up when they're frozen? Will the banana be the same? It made sense to me to set the bananas out to thaw before trying to mash them/add them to the batter. However, defrosted ripe bananas turn out to be much softer than a regular ripe banana. The runny, gooey, oozing mess that came out of the still frozen peel was defrosted/liquified banana... I think. It smelled like banana, but it certainly didn't look like banana. I have never dealt with banana in a liquid state before. I was kind of at a loss... and just added it to the batter hoping that it would turn out. I was quite pleased with myself when I finished mixing up the bread. This pleasure quickly ended when I realized I didn't have a bread pan... and Josh owns nothing kitchen wise, so I had to dig around to find something to use. Again... my choices for something to bake my bread in was a soup pot, or a casserole dish. I chose the casserole dish. With my banana bread recipe, the bread is suppose to bake for 45 minutes. After an hour, the top and corners of the bread were steadily growing darker, and the inside of the bread was still gooey. I would check on it in 10 minute increments, and the only thing that seemed to baking was the already burnt top. After the bread had been in the oven for about an hour and 45 minutes, I deemed that it was finally done... or... as good as it was ever going to get. I was trying to convince myself that the bread would probably still look okay if I trimmed off the burnt parts on top. As I walked into the kitchen to do that, I discovered that Josh had already eaten the burnt parts... and taken a chunk of the bread with him into the living room. I tried a piece. It was good... although denser than usual. Somehow my banana bread turned into banana pound cake. It turned out better than I thought it would. However. I can not wait for my stuff to get here. And there will be no more frozen bananas.
When we arrived in Germany, I discovered some frozen ripe bananas in the freezer. They had become too ripe and Josh froze them to use later to make banana bread. I think he secretly was hoping that I would make it. I have been tempted to bake some banana bread, but I didn't have any of my baking things, and no recipe. My mom emailed me the recipe over the weekend, and yesterday I decided to attempt to make some banana bread. I use the word attempt (which isn't my usual word of choice when it comes to baking) because I felt there were a lot of factors working against me. German stoves/ovens are much smaller than those in the US. When I came to visit Josh in April I had made a casserole in the oven and it took double the usual time to cook. I assume it's from the oven being so small and a lack of heat circulation... or something... I'm sure my middle school science teacher Mr. Litz could explain it in depth (or my dad could)... but I don't really care to know the real details. The oven is also electric, and I had been spoiled in my house baking with a gas oven. VERY spoiled. I was also going to be mixing/measuring everything with Josh's meager kitchen supplies instead of my own. So I was going to be baking in a smaller, electric oven... with none of my usual gizmos and gadgets that I love.
I measured out margarine and sugar putting them together in a bowl... and then looked around for something to mix it with. My options were a plastic serving spoon, and a whisk. Clearly, I wasn't thinking ahead. I chose the whisk. For those of you who are thinking I made the right choice, you have never had to clean margarine out of the wires of a whisk. The mixing wasn't nearly as hard as I thought it was going to be... it was keeping the whisk clear enough to effectively mix that was a challenge. When I thought of my KitchenAid mixer in a box, in a shipping container somewhere between Montana and here... it made me sad. I have never used frozen bananas for bread, or for anything for that matter. I really wasn't sure what the proper procedure was for handling frozen bananas. Do you let them thaw? Or do you somehow chop them up when they're frozen? Will the banana be the same? It made sense to me to set the bananas out to thaw before trying to mash them/add them to the batter. However, defrosted ripe bananas turn out to be much softer than a regular ripe banana. The runny, gooey, oozing mess that came out of the still frozen peel was defrosted/liquified banana... I think. It smelled like banana, but it certainly didn't look like banana. I have never dealt with banana in a liquid state before. I was kind of at a loss... and just added it to the batter hoping that it would turn out. I was quite pleased with myself when I finished mixing up the bread. This pleasure quickly ended when I realized I didn't have a bread pan... and Josh owns nothing kitchen wise, so I had to dig around to find something to use. Again... my choices for something to bake my bread in was a soup pot, or a casserole dish. I chose the casserole dish. With my banana bread recipe, the bread is suppose to bake for 45 minutes. After an hour, the top and corners of the bread were steadily growing darker, and the inside of the bread was still gooey. I would check on it in 10 minute increments, and the only thing that seemed to baking was the already burnt top. After the bread had been in the oven for about an hour and 45 minutes, I deemed that it was finally done... or... as good as it was ever going to get. I was trying to convince myself that the bread would probably still look okay if I trimmed off the burnt parts on top. As I walked into the kitchen to do that, I discovered that Josh had already eaten the burnt parts... and taken a chunk of the bread with him into the living room. I tried a piece. It was good... although denser than usual. Somehow my banana bread turned into banana pound cake. It turned out better than I thought it would. However. I can not wait for my stuff to get here. And there will be no more frozen bananas.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Frank the Tank
I now have a car to go along with my German driver's license. It is a 1991 BMW 735, black. It is literally a German tank. Therefore, we are going to refer to my car as Frank the Tank. I would guess the car is about the same length/size as an Impala (that's the best/easiest comparison I can make). It definitely has some scratches, dings, dents, and rust... and I would be concerned if it didn't have those things after 20 years. Really, it just adds to the charm of the car. The entire situation makes me laugh, in a good way. Josh and I had decided we weren't going to ship his truck over to Germany (and thank god we didn't. With the price of gas and these tiny curvy roads... what a nightmare!) and figured we'd just buy some cheap "beater" cars to drive around. My best friend Jen and I had this vision of me finding an old, boxy, heavy tank of a Mercedes/Audi/BMW to rock. And... Frank is definitely this vision personified. I think I laugh because... what a better thing to add to my adventure than to say "and we drove around in this old beast of a BMW..." I am excited to have a car, but I'm very excited that it's an automatic. Josh is excited that it has A/C. I will post pictures as soon as I take some.
Our temporary/loaner furniture from the base got picked up... they sent three very LARGE German men to pick it up. Each man was at least 6'4", but I think the tallest one was probably pushing 6'6"... and they were all very burly/large. Their size at first was a bit shocking.... but what shocked me even more was watching them move stuff. They had to pick up a table, 4 chairs, a small stuffed chair, and a couch. I'm thinking of American movers and thinking this process is going to take probably about a half hour. They were here and gone in less than 10 minutes. The biggest German guy walked over to the couch, picked it up, threw it on his back, and then walked down two flights of stairs with it. One of the other Germans did the same thing with the table and followed the guy with the couch. Josh and I were standing there wide eyed, jaws flapping.Our neighbor downstairs told us when he moved in the German movers literally strapped the washing machine to his back and huffed it up the stairs. I love the visual image I get from that. It makes me both curious/excited and a bit nervous to think of watching them move my stuff up the stairs in another month.
Our temporary/loaner furniture from the base got picked up... they sent three very LARGE German men to pick it up. Each man was at least 6'4", but I think the tallest one was probably pushing 6'6"... and they were all very burly/large. Their size at first was a bit shocking.... but what shocked me even more was watching them move stuff. They had to pick up a table, 4 chairs, a small stuffed chair, and a couch. I'm thinking of American movers and thinking this process is going to take probably about a half hour. They were here and gone in less than 10 minutes. The biggest German guy walked over to the couch, picked it up, threw it on his back, and then walked down two flights of stairs with it. One of the other Germans did the same thing with the table and followed the guy with the couch. Josh and I were standing there wide eyed, jaws flapping.Our neighbor downstairs told us when he moved in the German movers literally strapped the washing machine to his back and huffed it up the stairs. I love the visual image I get from that. It makes me both curious/excited and a bit nervous to think of watching them move my stuff up the stairs in another month.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
The silver lining
Germany is not all sunshine and roses. I'm going to take a moment and kah-bitz about a few things. Everyone is allowed to be a Negative Nancy every once and awhile.
One of the appeals of the place we rented was that it had American washer and dryer hook-ups, which is rare as you could imagine. When Josh moved in there was already an American washer and dryer in the house - they are military ones that were left in the house. Josh let them be and figured when his washer and dryer showed up we'd switch them out. The Lehman washer/dryer arrived, and Josh discovered that the hookups are American, but there is some sort of weird attachment/coupling that you need...? Obviously I know so much about setting up a washer/dryer. So we decided to just store his downstairs and use these ones... save some wear and tear. However. I hate the dryer we have. I don't even think we can call it a dyer. It's more of a de-humidifier. If you put wet clothes into the dryer, it will take at least two hours to dry. At least. I'm not even kidding. To dry a load of towels takes probably closer to three and a half. We may be saving some wear and tear on our washer/dryer, but I wonder what we're doing to our electric bill? We've taken the old fashioned approach and will hang our clothes out on collapsible clothes hangers. We mainly let them air dry before putting them in the dryer for a quick 20 minutes. It works... and I suppose I'm being green... but man is it a pain the ass. I just wish we had a dryer that worked.
One of my favorite household chores is mopping.... and I make that statement dripping with sarcasm. I hate sweeping. And mopping. And you have to sweep to be able to mop. I just generally dislike housework... but I do it because I need to. We have all tile floors, and our only way to cool the house is by opening the windows. So our floors are constantly dirty... which means an endless battle of sweeping and mopping. Two things I love.
I was on base yesterday to take my drivers test. They recently made the test open book, which was nice because it made the whole situation easier. However... I have to wonder.... The study booklet has all the information you need, followed by a practice test. Josh told me to take the practice test as it was helpful and a lot of the questions on the real test were taken from that. So I did... and discovered while I was taking the real test that not only do the questions repeat word for word from the practice test... but the practice test with the answer key is in the back of the booklet they give you to make the test open book. Soooooo.... how does anyone fail? Definitely a safe way to weed out the unqualified drivers.
While I was on base I also looked more into applying for a job... and reached a few stumbling blocks. The people at the employment office had absolutely no idea what I was talking about when I said that I'd heard a hygienist was leaving... and directed me to a website saying if the job becomes available, that is where it will be posted and that is where I will have to apply. Hmm. Ok. So... talking to the dentist made it sound promising, but in real life there a lot of BS hoops. Nothing new there. The person I talked to at the employment office also suggested looking into working for a German dentist because a lot of the military dependents go off base for dental treatment. There would be a need for an English speaking hygienist. I spent the afternoon looking into it... and discovered that German hygienists don't have any sort of licensing... which means I wouldn't have to take any extra tests or anything, which is good. So. Now I suppose my next step is do get in contact with some local dentists. Resume and cover letters here I come. My frustration with my experience yesterday was after I learned all the things I'm going to have to do to attempt to get a hygiene job... was that the woman then started talking to me about applying for jobs at the commissary, BX, or the laundry mat. Yeah. This will sound horribly snobby, I realize, however... I went through 5 years of schooling - 5 years of hell - to get the job I have. I love my job. I want to work doing my job... not checking groceries, not stocking shelves. I've already had those jobs, I worked them in college. I realize she was just trying to help... but. I didn't feel encouraged by it. It seems like all the prep I did beforehand and things I looked into before coming here were for nothing. I felt like I had to go home and seriously re-evaluate and re-vamp the plan I had made for myself.
But the silver lining to all of this... is Josh. He's the reason I'm here (obviously). I'm so fortunate that he understands what is important to me, and what I need. I told him I was really worried about keeping in contact with my family/friends, and I was frustrated with his crappy laptop and our lack of reliable internet. So he bought me a new laptop so I will be able to video chat on Skype and have a reliable computer to use. We're going this weekend to get phone and reliable internet set up so I will be able to call people. I told him I was worried about driving in Germany and stressed out about trying to re-learn driving a stick shift on top of trying to navigate the roads. So we've been hunting for a car for me that is an automatic. Rare, in this area, and a bit hard to come by, but not impossible. Josh was even willing to look into driving an hour away... just to get me a car I'm comfortable driving. Since I've been here there has been some unpacking and organizing, but there has also been a fair amount of buying... needing to get things for our house to make it better, more homey... and Josh has never complained (well, not seriously) about any of it. It's like he understand how important it is to me to make it feel and look homey. Although he could care less about having a rug in the bathroom, it's important to me, so he goes along with it. I realize I'm very lucky to have someone who not only understands me, but will act upon things I need.
Another landlord update. Josh and I had to go drop by our rent to Anita (he calls her by her first name). She invited us inside the house... and I was met with one of the worst smells I have ever experienced. It was something I'm not sure I can describe... mold and mildew mixed with old, rotted food. I was trying to act normal as I was overwhelmed by the smell. Anita was talking to Josh in broken English, but I never heard a word of the conversation because I was distracted by the cat. There was a black cat laying on the floor... but it was laying on its side with it's legs in an unnatural position. When we entered the room it didn't move, and it didn't move the entire time we were there. Not even an ear flick or a whisker twitch. I began to wonder if the cat was even alive... or if it was dead. A dead cat would certainly explain the smell. I asked Josh as soon as we were out the door if he thought the cat was dead, to which he responded "There's a cat?!" Hmm. I may have to brave the smell another time just to see if the cat is still there. I also discovered that the landlady has a son, Arno. Arno is 40, works as a sheep rancher, and lives at home with his mother. You can't make this stuff up.
One of the appeals of the place we rented was that it had American washer and dryer hook-ups, which is rare as you could imagine. When Josh moved in there was already an American washer and dryer in the house - they are military ones that were left in the house. Josh let them be and figured when his washer and dryer showed up we'd switch them out. The Lehman washer/dryer arrived, and Josh discovered that the hookups are American, but there is some sort of weird attachment/coupling that you need...? Obviously I know so much about setting up a washer/dryer. So we decided to just store his downstairs and use these ones... save some wear and tear. However. I hate the dryer we have. I don't even think we can call it a dyer. It's more of a de-humidifier. If you put wet clothes into the dryer, it will take at least two hours to dry. At least. I'm not even kidding. To dry a load of towels takes probably closer to three and a half. We may be saving some wear and tear on our washer/dryer, but I wonder what we're doing to our electric bill? We've taken the old fashioned approach and will hang our clothes out on collapsible clothes hangers. We mainly let them air dry before putting them in the dryer for a quick 20 minutes. It works... and I suppose I'm being green... but man is it a pain the ass. I just wish we had a dryer that worked.
One of my favorite household chores is mopping.... and I make that statement dripping with sarcasm. I hate sweeping. And mopping. And you have to sweep to be able to mop. I just generally dislike housework... but I do it because I need to. We have all tile floors, and our only way to cool the house is by opening the windows. So our floors are constantly dirty... which means an endless battle of sweeping and mopping. Two things I love.
I was on base yesterday to take my drivers test. They recently made the test open book, which was nice because it made the whole situation easier. However... I have to wonder.... The study booklet has all the information you need, followed by a practice test. Josh told me to take the practice test as it was helpful and a lot of the questions on the real test were taken from that. So I did... and discovered while I was taking the real test that not only do the questions repeat word for word from the practice test... but the practice test with the answer key is in the back of the booklet they give you to make the test open book. Soooooo.... how does anyone fail? Definitely a safe way to weed out the unqualified drivers.
While I was on base I also looked more into applying for a job... and reached a few stumbling blocks. The people at the employment office had absolutely no idea what I was talking about when I said that I'd heard a hygienist was leaving... and directed me to a website saying if the job becomes available, that is where it will be posted and that is where I will have to apply. Hmm. Ok. So... talking to the dentist made it sound promising, but in real life there a lot of BS hoops. Nothing new there. The person I talked to at the employment office also suggested looking into working for a German dentist because a lot of the military dependents go off base for dental treatment. There would be a need for an English speaking hygienist. I spent the afternoon looking into it... and discovered that German hygienists don't have any sort of licensing... which means I wouldn't have to take any extra tests or anything, which is good. So. Now I suppose my next step is do get in contact with some local dentists. Resume and cover letters here I come. My frustration with my experience yesterday was after I learned all the things I'm going to have to do to attempt to get a hygiene job... was that the woman then started talking to me about applying for jobs at the commissary, BX, or the laundry mat. Yeah. This will sound horribly snobby, I realize, however... I went through 5 years of schooling - 5 years of hell - to get the job I have. I love my job. I want to work doing my job... not checking groceries, not stocking shelves. I've already had those jobs, I worked them in college. I realize she was just trying to help... but. I didn't feel encouraged by it. It seems like all the prep I did beforehand and things I looked into before coming here were for nothing. I felt like I had to go home and seriously re-evaluate and re-vamp the plan I had made for myself.
But the silver lining to all of this... is Josh. He's the reason I'm here (obviously). I'm so fortunate that he understands what is important to me, and what I need. I told him I was really worried about keeping in contact with my family/friends, and I was frustrated with his crappy laptop and our lack of reliable internet. So he bought me a new laptop so I will be able to video chat on Skype and have a reliable computer to use. We're going this weekend to get phone and reliable internet set up so I will be able to call people. I told him I was worried about driving in Germany and stressed out about trying to re-learn driving a stick shift on top of trying to navigate the roads. So we've been hunting for a car for me that is an automatic. Rare, in this area, and a bit hard to come by, but not impossible. Josh was even willing to look into driving an hour away... just to get me a car I'm comfortable driving. Since I've been here there has been some unpacking and organizing, but there has also been a fair amount of buying... needing to get things for our house to make it better, more homey... and Josh has never complained (well, not seriously) about any of it. It's like he understand how important it is to me to make it feel and look homey. Although he could care less about having a rug in the bathroom, it's important to me, so he goes along with it. I realize I'm very lucky to have someone who not only understands me, but will act upon things I need.
Another landlord update. Josh and I had to go drop by our rent to Anita (he calls her by her first name). She invited us inside the house... and I was met with one of the worst smells I have ever experienced. It was something I'm not sure I can describe... mold and mildew mixed with old, rotted food. I was trying to act normal as I was overwhelmed by the smell. Anita was talking to Josh in broken English, but I never heard a word of the conversation because I was distracted by the cat. There was a black cat laying on the floor... but it was laying on its side with it's legs in an unnatural position. When we entered the room it didn't move, and it didn't move the entire time we were there. Not even an ear flick or a whisker twitch. I began to wonder if the cat was even alive... or if it was dead. A dead cat would certainly explain the smell. I asked Josh as soon as we were out the door if he thought the cat was dead, to which he responded "There's a cat?!" Hmm. I may have to brave the smell another time just to see if the cat is still there. I also discovered that the landlady has a son, Arno. Arno is 40, works as a sheep rancher, and lives at home with his mother. You can't make this stuff up.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Some things are universal
Some friends of Josh's decided to go to the Black Forest for the weekend and invited us along. We decided it would be something neat to check out, and my mom really wanted to see it. We were told to get there it would take us about 4 or so hours to drive. That was before we met road construction. From what I've seen so far in our travels, it's appears that Germany is like Montana and summer is the season of road construction. For the most part we have never had to stop and wait, but things do slow down. When we were driving to the Black Forest we were in bumper to bumper traffic driving very slowly through a stretch of construction. I believe we went about 5 kilometers in 45 minutes... I'm lucky to be one of those people who can read in the car and is entertained by doing so. Whenever we drive somewhere that is not near the base, we use Josh's GPS. It is extremely helpful, and I don't know how we would get to some of the places that we do without it. However... on this trip I was getting frustrated with it. When you punch in your destination, his GPS always gives you three different routes to choose from, and it tells you the distance and estimated travel time for each path. We usually try to pick the one that seems to be the straightest (if it's a curvy path it's probably following a river, which is beautiful, but the curves can get annoying to drive) and on major roads. We thought we had selected this type of path for the Black Forest, and it should have been a straight shot using different Autobahns. We were still on four lane major roads... but we somehow drove through a part of France on our travels. All of us were a bit confused, and wondered if we were headed in the right direction. To get to the little town where we had booked a hotel room we had to drive up this winding mountain road that was definitely not wide enough for two cars. I say that because we did meet another car and only passed by each other with inches to spare. We discovered upon arriving at our hotel and talking with Josh's friends who met us there that there was a different, less rugged road to take, which is the one they drove on. Glad to see the path our GPS chose. Between the slow construction traffic and our interesting driving route, instead of 4 hours it took us around 5 1/2.
The Black Forest is extremely beautiful. It is everything travel books say that it is. Mountains covered with green trees, green fields, picture-esk German towns. It definitely reminded me of Western Montana, especially the Flathead Valley. I have decided when I become extremely home-sick that is a place I could go that may ease those feelings because it does seem familiar and homey. We spent most of our time in a small town called Triberg. There is a waterfall there(the highest one in Germany) that you can hike up, and it has different viewing levels. Beautiful to see, and an easy hike. The Black Forest is known for their coo coo clocks, and there were shops selling them all over the place with any and every kind of clock you could imagine for sale. We ate dinner at a traditional German restaurant (well, as traditional as you can be in the middle of a tourist spot) which was decorated to be a like a hunting lodge. A typical German meal consists of pork and potatoes... it's just a matter of which form of pork and potatoes you choose. I have discovered that I like schnitzel, which is pounded pork that is breaded, fried, and usually served with some kind of sauce (it's similar to chicken fried steak). Josh tried wild boar. They have wild boars in Germany, and the area where we live hunting boars is a popular sport. I tried a bite of it... and thought it tasted very gamey and tough. Josh, however, seemed to enjoy it. We spent the evening sitting outside at our hotel enjoying beer and wine with friends. The owner of the hotel seemed quite tickled with us for doing that... and came out many times to talk to us in broken English. We were more than happy to oblige. The hotel provided a free breakfast buffet, which was a traditional German breakfast. There were hard rolls, meats and cheeses, fruit, yogurt, hard boiled eggs (which were warm), and cereal. I did try some Black Forest ham. I think it tastes more like a smoked bacon rather than actual ham. The smokey flavor is good, but the meat was a bit stringy/chewy... or maybe that was the piece I had. Josh seemed to be in heaven with this type of breakfast. After breakfast we took off to do some more shopping and exploring while Josh's friends returned to bed to recover from the fun we'd had the night before. Like the area we live in, the Black Forest is freckled with little towns. We decided to head for home and just top if we saw something interesting. We had only been driving about 15 minutes when Josh and I saw something on the hillside. It looked like an amusement park, and as we got closer we saw it was a roller coaster. We quickly pulled in to try it out. They call it the Rodlebahn, and it's an "alpine roller coaster". You sit in what looks like an individual little go kart looking frame that has two handles on the sides. You get pulled up to the top, like a regular roller coaster, but then when you get to the top you direct your speed with the handles and by gravity. If you push down you go faster, if you pull up you brake. You're in your own little car, so it's up to you how fast you want to go. Josh went ahead of me and flew down the track. I wasn't nearly as gutsy as him, but those little cars can still get going pretty fast. It was a fun ride, but we both said we wished the ride was longer. It was such a strange, yet fun thing to find in the middle of our drive. I know we will definitely be back to the Black Forest, and I'm up for another ride down the Rodlebahn.
On our trip home the GPS took us through France again. I suppose it's just one more country I can say I've been to. We attempted to change the settings on the GPS so that it will select the most direct path versus the one that will get you there fastest... and in fiddling with the settings we changed the voice of the GPS. Before we had a male voice with a British accent. It was like receiving driving directions from Sean Connery. After changing our settings we had a woman with an American accent. Not nearly as fun. So I fiddled with the GPS some more and changed the voice back. It turns out they call that voice "Henry." So dear Henry lead us home... even if it was a rather odd route.
My mom had to go home yesterday. We drove to Frankfurt in the morning and her flight left around 11:30. I knew that saying goodbye to her was going to be hard. It was something I'd tried to not think about from the moment I knew I was moving. But suddenly the time to say goodbye was there... and I wasn't really sure what to say. Is there something you can say? We both cried. Josh and I waited until she made it through security, and then waved goodbye. I cried as we walked through the airport and out to the car. All of this is finally real. I am in a different country, and the only person I really know is Josh.
The base had a 4th of July celebration. There were a lot of activities throughout the day, but we did work around the house instead. We did go in for the fireworks. I wasn't sure what to expect from a fireworks show on a base in Germany. I'd heard from other people that it was a good show... but I was a bit skeptical. However, it did turn out to be an amazing 40 minute show. There were some styles of fireworks that I'd never seen before. Most of the time that I can remember watching fireworks has been in Missoula, which is a closed valley. I've never watched fireworks in such an open area before.... and the sound seems to echo and reverberate so much more than I'm used to. Almost awe inspiring. It seems strange that when sitting on the lawn of a military base in a country 6000 miles from Montana that I felt at home. At a time when I could have been homesick, I wasn't. I guess that some things - road construction, beautiful forests, fireworks - are universal.
The Black Forest is extremely beautiful. It is everything travel books say that it is. Mountains covered with green trees, green fields, picture-esk German towns. It definitely reminded me of Western Montana, especially the Flathead Valley. I have decided when I become extremely home-sick that is a place I could go that may ease those feelings because it does seem familiar and homey. We spent most of our time in a small town called Triberg. There is a waterfall there(the highest one in Germany) that you can hike up, and it has different viewing levels. Beautiful to see, and an easy hike. The Black Forest is known for their coo coo clocks, and there were shops selling them all over the place with any and every kind of clock you could imagine for sale. We ate dinner at a traditional German restaurant (well, as traditional as you can be in the middle of a tourist spot) which was decorated to be a like a hunting lodge. A typical German meal consists of pork and potatoes... it's just a matter of which form of pork and potatoes you choose. I have discovered that I like schnitzel, which is pounded pork that is breaded, fried, and usually served with some kind of sauce (it's similar to chicken fried steak). Josh tried wild boar. They have wild boars in Germany, and the area where we live hunting boars is a popular sport. I tried a bite of it... and thought it tasted very gamey and tough. Josh, however, seemed to enjoy it. We spent the evening sitting outside at our hotel enjoying beer and wine with friends. The owner of the hotel seemed quite tickled with us for doing that... and came out many times to talk to us in broken English. We were more than happy to oblige. The hotel provided a free breakfast buffet, which was a traditional German breakfast. There were hard rolls, meats and cheeses, fruit, yogurt, hard boiled eggs (which were warm), and cereal. I did try some Black Forest ham. I think it tastes more like a smoked bacon rather than actual ham. The smokey flavor is good, but the meat was a bit stringy/chewy... or maybe that was the piece I had. Josh seemed to be in heaven with this type of breakfast. After breakfast we took off to do some more shopping and exploring while Josh's friends returned to bed to recover from the fun we'd had the night before. Like the area we live in, the Black Forest is freckled with little towns. We decided to head for home and just top if we saw something interesting. We had only been driving about 15 minutes when Josh and I saw something on the hillside. It looked like an amusement park, and as we got closer we saw it was a roller coaster. We quickly pulled in to try it out. They call it the Rodlebahn, and it's an "alpine roller coaster". You sit in what looks like an individual little go kart looking frame that has two handles on the sides. You get pulled up to the top, like a regular roller coaster, but then when you get to the top you direct your speed with the handles and by gravity. If you push down you go faster, if you pull up you brake. You're in your own little car, so it's up to you how fast you want to go. Josh went ahead of me and flew down the track. I wasn't nearly as gutsy as him, but those little cars can still get going pretty fast. It was a fun ride, but we both said we wished the ride was longer. It was such a strange, yet fun thing to find in the middle of our drive. I know we will definitely be back to the Black Forest, and I'm up for another ride down the Rodlebahn.
On our trip home the GPS took us through France again. I suppose it's just one more country I can say I've been to. We attempted to change the settings on the GPS so that it will select the most direct path versus the one that will get you there fastest... and in fiddling with the settings we changed the voice of the GPS. Before we had a male voice with a British accent. It was like receiving driving directions from Sean Connery. After changing our settings we had a woman with an American accent. Not nearly as fun. So I fiddled with the GPS some more and changed the voice back. It turns out they call that voice "Henry." So dear Henry lead us home... even if it was a rather odd route.
My mom had to go home yesterday. We drove to Frankfurt in the morning and her flight left around 11:30. I knew that saying goodbye to her was going to be hard. It was something I'd tried to not think about from the moment I knew I was moving. But suddenly the time to say goodbye was there... and I wasn't really sure what to say. Is there something you can say? We both cried. Josh and I waited until she made it through security, and then waved goodbye. I cried as we walked through the airport and out to the car. All of this is finally real. I am in a different country, and the only person I really know is Josh.
The base had a 4th of July celebration. There were a lot of activities throughout the day, but we did work around the house instead. We did go in for the fireworks. I wasn't sure what to expect from a fireworks show on a base in Germany. I'd heard from other people that it was a good show... but I was a bit skeptical. However, it did turn out to be an amazing 40 minute show. There were some styles of fireworks that I'd never seen before. Most of the time that I can remember watching fireworks has been in Missoula, which is a closed valley. I've never watched fireworks in such an open area before.... and the sound seems to echo and reverberate so much more than I'm used to. Almost awe inspiring. It seems strange that when sitting on the lawn of a military base in a country 6000 miles from Montana that I felt at home. At a time when I could have been homesick, I wasn't. I guess that some things - road construction, beautiful forests, fireworks - are universal.
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