You Move, Stuff Breaks

(Written in early October 2008)

One of the unfortunate costs of the move abroad is the inevitable cacophony of a dozen maracas when you pick up a box of precious possessions you have chosen to ship through the mail ahead of you and realize that something inside is now destroyed. This is a consequence I have gotten used to, and to this day, about half my wall hangings are sans glass, though I have vowed many times to go to the hardware store and replace them, damn it.

There’s really no way to avoid it, and I have found it doesn’t seem to matter whether you roll your item in 12 yards of robust bubble tape, stamp “FRAGILE!” all over the box like chicken pox, or send it air mail with insurance. Sometimes it breaks, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes one small frame in a box of many will be the only one to smash, while another box will have so much damage it’ll sound like a box of glass confetti. At times a box will arrive as crisp and firm as the day you shipped it, other times it arrives as if a heavyweight boxer has been using it as his personal punching bag, battered and ripped in places. I’ve had a giant, heavy painting with glass, ship by boat (3 months travel time) from Thailand to the U.S. and arrive unscathed. And yet, when shipped from the U.S. to New Zealand, AIR MAIL no less, it arrived with the glass busted into a million dramatic shards. Guess one’s status as a “third world” country doesn’t have anything to do with its ability to ship with dignity.

And sometimes, you’re just stupid, as a couple days ago when I flamboyantly yanked a down comforter from a box I was unpacking only to see one of only 2 remaining CRYSTAL champagne goblets I own fly into a graceful arc and crash onto the floor in a shower of unglueable pieces. *sigh*

A slew of breakages that I have found hard to swallow this time around are my holiday decorations. In Montana, I had entered my now-I-will-start-buying-really-nice-things-of-quality-that-I-will-keep-forever phase, thinking Montana the final stop on my lifetime gypsy tour, *sigh.* I had started to slowly acquire pieces for Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and even Easter to display around the house – a trend I was never much into before. The University of Montana bookstore, obviously sensing this new shopping lust, obliged me in stocking fun, funky and beautiful things like whimsical, fat-bottomed characters for all holidays from Seasons of Cannon Falls, and cute little statues from Giftcraft, Inc. I seem to have a thing for little statues to put up everywhere, like silly reindeer or big fat rabbits. I love them, and if able, would have bought the lot every time. But, after patiently (ha ha) waiting for the bookstore’s 40% off sales just days before and after the actual holiday, I would start to buy up a few of these pieces. They weren’t cheap full price, but hey, it’s hard not to justify 40% off, right? I was almost giddy placing them carefully around the house, and they were top candidates in the very short list of what was being shipped with us to New Zealand.

Well, most of these holiday pieces are ceramic, and so, seem to have taken a specific delight in smashing into a cloud of terra cotta dust when shipped. Heartbreaking. At first, I pushed aside these small, clinky bags for the trash. But for some reason, I couldn’t quite throw them out entirely. The worst was a small set of witches – a mother and daughter which were shaped into an exaggerated angle leaning into each other. The mother – untouched, the daughter – puzzle pieces. And gruesomely, the mother stood with the daughter’s now disembodied head dangling from her curly hair. At first (after removing her daughter's head), I just placed the mother on the windowsill since it’s her time to shine pre-Halloween anyway, but her solitary S-shape seemed so odd, so sad, that I decided to get some super glue and give the daughter a go.

Well, it’s quite clear I would not make much of a surgeon, but damn, trying to glue the witch daughter, a giant “chocolate” bunny, and my large and beautiful Santa turned out to be a comical event. Did I get them together? Hrm, yes. But it seems being even a millimeter off when gluing one piece to another results in the entire piece coming out rather Dali-esque. During each painstaking process, I whispered to each one that as soon as I began buying up oil paints again (since I had to ditch my previous ones for the move, *sniff sniff*), that I would paint in these giant cracks and fissures and chips and no one would ever know the difference.

Hrm.

Well, I’m not sure how much dignity each piece now holds on to, but I did get quite a big of sentimental satisfaction in reuniting the witch daughter, now with head and body attached, to the scoliosis curve of her mother. See for yourself.

POSTSCRIPT

Well, I would have let you see for yourself, but the daughter witch isn’t with us anymore. I found a picture of a somewhat similar witch to the duo I had to the right. Anyway, the departure of the daughter came about like this:

Setting: J. has just laid down for a nap in the bedroom. Beau is in the living room, most likely playing Civ IV: Beyond the Sword.

*THUMP*
J: “What was that?”
Beau: *long silence* “Nothing.”
J: *slightly more alarmed voice* “What was that?”
Beau: … “Nothing.”
J: “Beau….”
Beau: “I don’t know, but it wasn’t your itty bitty witch!”

*sigh* Goodbye, itty bitty witch.

Crushing on Columbia, True Love in New Zealand

There has been plenty going on in my life as of late, but it's really just been a flurry of packing, shipping, and ebay and craigslist listings, and even more hours, spent a bit less hecticly, in the public library, my current source of internet access. Not much to captivate bored blog readers. As we all know, it's a life of great devastation, whether real or imagined, that makes the best blog fodder.

In about one week, we will be leaving Columbia, MO and driving the now-trusty *raps furiously on wood* truck to Phoenix, AZ, my hometown (kinda), where we will visit some relatives and a high school buddy or two. I haven't been there since 2001, when I attended my disappointing and expensive 10-year high school reunion. It will be nice to see the desert again, but every time I've returned, since my eager exodus at 18 years old, I've felt rather out of place. Scottsdale and Phoenix, AZ are places of hyperbolic change and growth, a point that was brought home to me when driving on a new highway with a friend, and she had to point out the home I had grown up in since I didn't even recognize the area. I look back on the home now as rather ideal, even if the occupants within were not. A decent 3-bedroom house with 2 parking spaces (one covered). A lush and healthy olive tree out front - wastefully ignored by all except for me, who used the super-ripe purple olives as a substitute chalk on the sidewalk to draw out hopscotch grids and other such games. Better than chalk, in fact, since it left a nice stain that was as slow to come out as henna. In the back was a very large tree, of some generic sort, that had a remarkably perfect bottom bough that cradled a young child's legs perfectly, so she could swing upside down from it, or sit in it, swing-like.

Sometimes the backyard had ant lions, a childhood favorite of mine, where I ruthlessly pushed unsuspecting ants into the dangerous funnels just to watch 'Wild Kingdom' at work. A ginormous aloe vera plant, at home in the desert climate, grew like a weed and was handy for cuts and burns, though was unbelievably nasty when the gel was accidentally consumed. Lastly, there was the spider-infested, junk-overflowing shed next to the house, which served more as a makeshift ladder to climb to the roof, where I spent many a night either pretending I was some sort of goddess of the wind, or talking to God.

But one day, the government came and bought our house in order to expand the 2-lane highway squished between our house and the Pima Indian reservation, since naturally, the Indians gave the government a big "Fuck you" when asked if some of their land could be carved out for a highway. Little did I know, that a decade later, the highway would be built, many hundreds of feet INTO the reservation, and my childhood home would still be standing, rented out to who knows. I hope the reservation got a LOT of money for that monstrosity.

I have to admit, I will be sad to leave Columbia, Missouri. In a very short time, I have come to love this town. Mid-sized like Missoula and Madison, it too is a college town (with THREE of them, including the very large U of Missouri, or "Mizzou"). It's easy to get around, we're about 10 steps from the wonderful public library, it's lush and green and forestry, despite all the development, and there's lots of restaurants and stuff going on.

It's funny how one's relationship with the city one lives in can be very much like dating. Sometimes, you feel love at first sight.. You may not be able to put your finger on it, but you find it attractive, and it just feels like a good fit, like you belong there. You take a deep breath, and something inside you says, "Yes!" I have felt that in places like Oslo, Norway; Stockholm, Sweden; Paris, France; and of course, different parts of New Zealand. Other times, a place may not knock you over with an intense connection, but you still have a great fondness for it and know you could easily "make it work." I have felt that in Madison, WI; Amsterdam, Netherlands; southern France; parts of Poland; Luang Prabang, Laos; New York, NY; Spearfish, SD; and Sydney, Australia.

Other times, like a bad date, you just don't like the city. Maybe you can articulate it -- dirty/ugly, high cost of living, shitty weather, no opportunities, and at other times, as with instant infatuation, it's harder to pinpoint, you just know there's something about it that doesn't sit right with you, doesn't fit. I never enjoyed living in Bangkok, though I was grateful for its opportunities (and food!), but it was a place, even in its nicer areas (the north, the beaches), that I knew would never feel right. Warsaw, Missouri was a really lovely little town, with lots of green grass, big backyards, and a cornucopia of birds to delight, but for various reasons - it would never do. Missoula was certainly lovely, and had everything I need in a city, yet I never felt entirely comfortable there, even when things were going right, and often felt I was trying to force myself to love the city for its own sake. And today, though I am very thankful that I grew up in a clean, safe, affluent suburb (Scottsdale, AZ), with an ambitious, college-bound school culture, I know that living in that area would never suit who I am now. It's funny how one of the things I used to love the most about Arizona -- its utter newness, how everything was shiny, new, and WORKED, has now become a turn-off, a seeming lack of character. Not to mention, the skyrocketing average income of Scottsdale has made it a resort town and home to the filthy rich, which we know, would never be a place I'd feel comfortable.

Though Columbia doesn't have that magical, "I belong here" feel that I have felt in a few, choice other places, it is definitely a place I have really enjoyed and could see myself living in. I like it here! The only drawback is the sometimes-ungodly-humid weather, though while we've been here, it hasn't been that bad at all, and there have been a lot of really cool, beautiful days. My job is a bit of a pain in the ass, as faint-hearted me is frequently intimidated by the Strong Black Woman who is my boss, and frequently bored out of my mind with the endless and mind-numbing tediousness of the job itself, but hell, it was always a temporary gig, and so, not that big of a deal. Though I'll miss Columbia a lot, this crush is not the same as the true love I have felt for New Zealand.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation - Part I

I know I've been absent awhile -- at least awhile for me. Part was our recently crazy-ass life, and part was just general blogging ennui. I did start to write a tome on all the stuff that's happened in the past 6-8 weeks, but I got bored with myself and canned it. It's a lot to explain, but not as fun as a, "Guess what happened last night when I was totally trashed" story.

Okay, let's see if I can make this as short as possible:

- Beau and I had finally made all arrangements for moving to Missouri: quit our jobs, packed up and/or sold and/or gave away our worldly possessions, and purchased a new (1986 Nissan) pickup to pack up and haul our little Nissan. Admittedly, we weren't SUPER excited about moving to Missouri,but we did have a renewed sense of hope for the future. Things like a home, children, a decent job were all now possibilities.

Literally TWO days before we were to get on the road, the school in New Zealand contacted us that Beau's old teaching position was opening up.

Oh fuck.

This was what we had wanted for so long, but the timing was more than a bit awkward.

To make a long story short, we got on the road and headed for Missouri anyway, and somewhere in the hills of eastern Montana, our truck conked out. Just great. We made it to Wall, South Dakota, a place I already talked about on our original move TO Montana here. A crazy, little town, where we were absolutely g-d lucky to find that one of only two mechanics in town was open on a Saturday. After Beau and I drove to another city an hour away to pick up a needed part, the guy fixed the truck. Almost.

The funny thing was, staying in Wall, South Dakota ended up being a rather pleasant experience, despite all the chaos. And by chaos, I mean that we once again had the impeccable timing of being in this particular part of South Dakota during the large Sturgis rally. This rally is the annual mecca for all Harley-Davidson riders. The state was just CRAWLING with the hogs for a 100 mile radius. I've never seen so many in my life, and that includes the time that the H-D factory, just 3 blocks from my mother's house in Milwaukee, had their own big celebration. It was like suddenly I had been thrust into the movie Mask.

Here's an example of one of the fun-filled activities at the rally *cough*:
This would have been a mildly interesting phenomena, except for the fact that the presence of thousands of bikers meant even the Motel 6 was charging $126 for their cheapest room - I shit you not! Beau and I had enough funds to get started in Missouri, but getting the truck fixed, plus the additional hotel nights to pay for would drain us fast.

Anyway, as I said, Wall, SD ended up being kind of fun. The first time through we had literally spent just 20 minutes in this ginormous center of Western cowboy culture, but now we had all the time in the world to browse its dozens of stores of expensive kitsch. For the most part we didn't spend much money, though I did pick up some wildflower seeds along the way. We had a nice time, and one of the best breakfasts I have ever had with some super tasty biscuits and gravy as well as, omg, deep-fried cinnamon french toast sticks. MMmm mmmm good.

A big shout-out goes to the locally-owned Welsh's Motel which was the only place in the surrounding 5 towns not to jack up their prices due to the event. They were nice people too.

Anyway, we eventually made it to Columbia, MO, where, after checking into a very reasonably priced Motel 6, we eventually found ourselves a magnificent shithole of an apartment. It's got to be the worst apartment I've ever had, next to the roach paradise that I lived in in NYC. The funny thing is -- this new place has a pool, and it's well-maintained. And the BEST part is, the rent is almost HALF, holy Jesus yes(!), HALF of what we paid in Missoula. So, we will easily tolerate this place for awhile, since it is only temporary.

Yup, that's right, after some nail-biting weeks here in Columbia where we are both unemployed and nervous, just yesterday Beau was notified that the job in New Zealand is his. YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, and school starts October 13th.

Oh, boy. Here we go again...

Moving, Money, Mean Office Manager

I usually try to keep my blog for events that happen in my life, but since the past few months have presented very few events, ergo, I'm BORING, I'm just writing to write now.

Today ended a week-long hiatus of the Evil Office Manager Women. At the end of the work day yesterday, several employees lamented the end of their freedom, the end of the large exhale we all felt when she first went on vacation. It kind of amazes me how I can almost totally ignore her, how she no longer has much effect on my work day, and yet there's that very subtle awareness of just how much more happy and relaxed I am when she's not around, even if I like to pretend she's wearing an invisibility cloak all the time when she is here.

Besides her, work overall is going fairly well, despite the fact I haven't confessed my departure to my boss yet. Why? Because I'm a complete coward and my boss, whom I have grown to deeply like and admire, will be SUPER pissed. I'm the first person she's had to really help her out ever, (her workload is monstrous), and she's really enjoyed it. And I know she's thankful and thinks I rock, cause she literally said so in her own self-evaluation she handed in to her boss last week. Huzzah!

And one thing I realized a little while ago, is that although I'm getting paid fucking peanuts, and a good part of my job involves menial tasks, I am still learning a LOT. I feel like I have acquired, under her guidance, a real kind of expertise in certain academic areas of higher education. This would have been an ideal job for me about 10 years ago - a position to learn and grow in. Now, it's just kind of an interesting internship.

In other news, Beau and I are very slowly moving into freaking out-bickering mode. With the upcoming move to Missouri becoming more of a reality (we kind of are in the "we'll believe it when we're actually turning the key in the rental truck" kind of mentality), a lot of the oppressive stress that accompanies such a big move is beginning to descend. As always for Beau that includes, "How the FUCK are we going to pay for all of this?!" For me, that includes, "How are we going to pack and get this place cleaned in time?!" Due to our awful student loan situation and back taxes, we will not see one single cent of our "stimulus" check. So much for that MUCH NEEDED help. All those who went out and bought new leather furniture or jet skis or a trip to Hawaii can kiss my white butt.

And, being the World's #1 EXPERT on moving, I have already begun, with a great amount of gusto, to prepare for the move. I began taking pictures off the wall and packing away books the day after Beau accepted his new teaching job. We've already cleaned out our little storage unit and I have rapidly begun filling it with precisely-packed boxes. I'd pack even more, just so we could get a headstart on what I'm truly dreading -- the CLEANING -- but the slow disappearance of our worldly possessions from the small apartment is beginning to make Beau nervous. It's true, the simple act of removing pictures from the wall turns your place from a "home" to an empty hotel room.

Speaking of student loans - those beasts of educational burden - both Beau and I were finally tracked down by our loan people and forced (yes, forced) to start coughing up money again. Some guy kept calling my work (thank god someone else answers the phone), and asking for me. When I looked up the private company he worked for, the website displayed a sort of creepy "We can find anyone, dead or alive!!!" motto. FREAKED me out. And I very much doubted that I was being sought out for an inheritance from an unknown rich relative. Still, though I knew it was most likely the student loan people (my credit is otherwise just fine now), it was rather scary that they would hire such a company.

Well, after the guy called several times, and the receptionist was starting to give me the "I'm getting sick of covering for you" speech, I bucked up and took his call. Unsurprisingly, it was the student loan people, but in a weird twist of fate, it was NOT the people who own the 90% overall chunk of my loans, but the guys who have the other 10%. Seeing as I can only possibly pay one of these guys at a time, at least it was the 10% people who got me. If/when the 90% people get me, I'm going to fucking starve, and I'm not being cute.

My weight continues to be a big issue, and continues to aggravate my blood pressure. I've wanted to get off my blood pressure meds, not just because I hate having a host of pills to take every morning, but also to save me from the humiliation of my office mates watching me get up and go to the restroom every 30-60 minutes like some sort of pregnant racehorse. But my doctor said unless I had some sort of "significant weight loss," I had to take them or face a stroke. Lovely.

I'm still pretty stymied as to why I've been so steadily and rapidly gaining weight, despite the continued dramatic changes in my diet. I've even begun running in the mornings, an activity I don't enjoy, so hopefully something will come of that soon. It's funny, many years ago I was a long-distance runner, and now when my fat ass runs a much shorter length, I feel so totally ridiculous. It's like my body is flapping and protruding all over the place. As I run, I swear it feels like I'm sticking my butt out in some kind of tarty pose. My feet pound on the ground like I'm trying to grind corn. And after my short run, I have the same heart-searing, gasping-for-the-breath-of-life feelings I once had after running an under-7-minute mile. To think I won that Presidential Fitness Award twice as a kid. Now? Pathetic.

One big joy has been our community garden which is again chock-full of tomato plants (20 this year!), purple and yellow beans, butternut squash, Thai chilies, basil, mint, kale, and THE most amazing sugar pea and snow pea plants I have ever seen, thankyouverymuch! The pea plants are beginning to take on a familiar Little Shop of Horrors look to them, which I am rather proud of. It was pretty touch and go for awhile, since just TWO FRICKIN WEEKS AGO it snowed here! Yes, yes, it snowed! For TWO days! In JUNE! Death to tomato plants! Luckily, they pulled through (not sure if the Thai chilies will make a comeback), so I eagerly await their bounty.

Oh, and another big joy has been the re-submergence into the glorious world that is Harry Potter. After a year or two of begging Beau to read the first book, he finally did, and with the second book, we continued our ritual of "Beau drives, J. reads," one of my favorite things in the whole world. So, to and from work, to and from the store, and muting the TV on commercial breaks at home, I read and read and read from the glorious books. We read a book, then immediately watch the movie. We just watched the Order of the Phoenix dvd this past weekend, and I'm already well past page 100 in book 6. It was so wonderful to introduce him to Lupin and Tonks and the awesomeness that is Fred & George and Neville and Luna and.... *happy sigh* We just need to finish Half-Blood Prince by November when the movie comes out, which I think will be no problem at all. I can hardly wait to start reading book 7!!!