Some statistics:
1 euro=$1.30
Temperatures Today:
Tucson: 95 degrees
Paris: 59 degrees (Hmm, funny reversal there. Guess where I'd rather be.)
Paris is 9 hours ahead of Tucson. (Insert joke here______.)
3 p.m. Tucson=Midnight in Paris... (Hey! That's a movie!)
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
First Photo in Paris
Bienvenue à Paris!
Mark's flight to Paris Charles De Gaulle Airport was uneventful. He took a taxi, a Mercedes SUV, to his hotel. Mark attempted to speak to the driver entirely in French and was rewarded with a smile.
The Mercedes taxi cruised along smoothly until it reached the Boulevard Périphérique. The Périphérique is one of the busiest roads in Europe and is considered the boundary of Paris and its suburbs. There four lanes of traffic came to a complete stop. Mark said “Bienvenue à Paris!” and the taxi driver laughed.
Mark's hotel is in the 14th Arrondissement of Paris, where many businesses are located. There are 20 arrondissements, or districts, in Paris. The lower the number of arrondissement, the more desirable it is. The 1st arrondissement is where the Louvre is.
When I spoke with him this morning, he was calling from his hotel. Once again, Mark spoke French to the hotel staff and was rewarded with smiles. Though he was in the executive lounge, I could hear very loud, obnoxious female laughter in the background. I could barely hear my husband speaking. Mark said it was Happy Hour in the hotel (7 p.m. Paris time) and there was a large party of well dressed, elderly Americans enjoying the freely flowing wine.
(*Cringe*. All the times I've been to Paris, I've never heard such a racket. And I've never seen a drunk French woman either. It's just not the French way.)
Mark is amused that he just arrived in Paris and he already has a day off coming. May 1st is a French holiday, Fete du Travail, or Labor Day. He's going to take the day to look for an apartment. His company is putting him up in a hotel until May 13th. Mark's thinking of getting a place in a B&B after the 13th, until he finds an apartment he's satisfied with.
Mark's hotel costs 160 euros, or about $211.00 a night. In Paris, that is an absolute bargain for a hotel that caters to the needs of international business travelers. When the Paris Air Show begins in June, that very room will almost triple in price to about 430 euros-about $550.00 a night. And they'll be booked solid too.
Nothing like getting off a transatlantic flight and going straight to the office, which is what Mark did. He is trying to get over jet lag and adjust to the local time, not an easy thing to do.
His hotel is a ten minute walk to the Metro and a twenty minute Metro trip to his office. I don't think he'll put up with that long. My husband's driven in LA, Boston, and Rome. He was the only American working at his company in London who actually drove in London. Knowing my husband, he's looking into getting a French driver's license and buying a car. This should be interesting.
I'll be perfectly fine using the Metro. Once you get the hang of it, it is so easy and convenient. And if even if I get lost, I won't panic. I'm in PARIS, after all.
The lines at the Louvre. Go early and during the week if you can.
The Mercedes taxi cruised along smoothly until it reached the Boulevard Périphérique. The Périphérique is one of the busiest roads in Europe and is considered the boundary of Paris and its suburbs. There four lanes of traffic came to a complete stop. Mark said “Bienvenue à Paris!” and the taxi driver laughed.
Mark's hotel is in the 14th Arrondissement of Paris, where many businesses are located. There are 20 arrondissements, or districts, in Paris. The lower the number of arrondissement, the more desirable it is. The 1st arrondissement is where the Louvre is.
When I spoke with him this morning, he was calling from his hotel. Once again, Mark spoke French to the hotel staff and was rewarded with smiles. Though he was in the executive lounge, I could hear very loud, obnoxious female laughter in the background. I could barely hear my husband speaking. Mark said it was Happy Hour in the hotel (7 p.m. Paris time) and there was a large party of well dressed, elderly Americans enjoying the freely flowing wine.
(*Cringe*. All the times I've been to Paris, I've never heard such a racket. And I've never seen a drunk French woman either. It's just not the French way.)
Mark is amused that he just arrived in Paris and he already has a day off coming. May 1st is a French holiday, Fete du Travail, or Labor Day. He's going to take the day to look for an apartment. His company is putting him up in a hotel until May 13th. Mark's thinking of getting a place in a B&B after the 13th, until he finds an apartment he's satisfied with.
Mark's hotel costs 160 euros, or about $211.00 a night. In Paris, that is an absolute bargain for a hotel that caters to the needs of international business travelers. When the Paris Air Show begins in June, that very room will almost triple in price to about 430 euros-about $550.00 a night. And they'll be booked solid too.
Nothing like getting off a transatlantic flight and going straight to the office, which is what Mark did. He is trying to get over jet lag and adjust to the local time, not an easy thing to do.
His hotel is a ten minute walk to the Metro and a twenty minute Metro trip to his office. I don't think he'll put up with that long. My husband's driven in LA, Boston, and Rome. He was the only American working at his company in London who actually drove in London. Knowing my husband, he's looking into getting a French driver's license and buying a car. This should be interesting.
I'll be perfectly fine using the Metro. Once you get the hang of it, it is so easy and convenient. And if even if I get lost, I won't panic. I'm in PARIS, after all.
Monday, April 29, 2013
Au Revoir
I gave my husband a ride to the airport this morning. From Tucson he flies to Dallas-Fort Worth. Then it's a long flight to Charles De Gaulle Airport in Paris. I thought of the times and the places we flew together and couldn't help but wish I was going too.
As I drove away, I saw him in the rearview mirror. Suit coat over his arm, wrestling with his luggage, he was off to his life in Paris.
As I drove away, I saw him in the rearview mirror. Suit coat over his arm, wrestling with his luggage, he was off to his life in Paris.
Friday, April 26, 2013
Leaving on a Jet Plane
Mark just made his plane reservations. He'll fly into Charles De Gaulle Airport.
It's hard for me not to be envious...
It's hard for me not to be envious...
Oh the Places You'll Go!
- Got married in Colorado Springs. 3 different apartments
- moved to Tucson, AZ. as newlyweds. Mark's Air Force assignment-get his MIS at the the University of Arizona. We lived in a small 2 bed room apartment.
- moved to Nashua, NH. Cold climate, cold people.
- moved to Hanscom AFB, Bedford, Massachusetts. First time living on a base. 20+ years later, we're still in touch with the friends we made there. Tore my ACL. Kenny and Barb took me to a Celtics basketball game in Connecticut. Drove back to base in a blinding snow storm.
- left Massachusetts in our rear view mirror. Headed for southern California. In such a hurry to leave, Mark got a ticket from a Massachusetts State Trooper. Fitting farewell.
- Hello San Bernardino, California and Norton AFB. First week there, 3 girls joked about taking my red Miata from me. I was ready to give them the keys. Also: an earthquake while Mark was gone. A hostage situation in the area, complete with a SWAT team and a helicopter behind our apartment. Rodney King and the LA riots. One week before we were to leave Mark's car caught fire on the freeway. He was ok, the car a total loss. Flat tire in godforsaken Gila Bend, Arizona.
- Albuquerque, New Mexico. Mark told me we could afford to buy our first house there. I didn't believe him. We lived in a nice apartment on Central Avenue while our house was built. (I picked everything for that house and loved it.) Apartment was across the street from the State Fair Grounds, so we'd have dinner there after Mark got home. Our house was on a big corner lot and had a great view of the Sandia Mountains. I had a good job working for Albertsons. We were really happy there.
- "Hallo" Brunssum the Netherlands. So much happened there during the 3 years we were stationed there, I could write a book alone. #1 thing to remember: The Bicycle Rules. 3 hour drive to Paris.
- Ft. Belvoir, VA. and Yorktown,VA. More school for Mark, then retirement after 20 years in the Air Force. We bought a house there-it was my favorite, despite being haunted.
- Moved to Tucson, AZ. because that's where the job was. Right in time for a tight housing market. Bought a house and sold it. Moved into this house. Mark worked in London for 18 months. Bought a house in Albuquerque, NM and in Aurora, Colorado. Bought a second home in Colorado Springs.
- Mark leaves for Paris Monday. I'm moving to our house in Colorado Springs. Selling this house. I'll be going back and forth to Paris-WHEEEEEEE!!!!
- 27 years of marriage. How many states and 2 foreign countries?
- I'D * DO* IT* ALL* AGAIN* and wouldn't change a thing.
Personal Post Its
Note to Self: "Never underestimate how emotional a move can be. Even if you're looking forward to it."
Thursday, April 25, 2013
In Need of a Security Blanket
The Move--
I'm having one of those days when it seems like so much is coming at me at once. And...all of it needed to be done yesterday.
I need Linus' Security Blanket-something to hold onto tightly. Even better than that, I'd throw it over my head.
Instead of hiding away, I decided to go into my husband's home office and give him a big hug. No explanation, just hug him tightly.
He leaves for Paris on Monday. This deal is really happening.
I'm having one of those days when it seems like so much is coming at me at once. And...all of it needed to be done yesterday.
I need Linus' Security Blanket-something to hold onto tightly. Even better than that, I'd throw it over my head.
Instead of hiding away, I decided to go into my husband's home office and give him a big hug. No explanation, just hug him tightly.
He leaves for Paris on Monday. This deal is really happening.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Monday, April 22, 2013
Brain Food
I have one brain and one hand that can write. (I can print with the other hand. Maybe I should try writing with both at the same time.)
I have THREE separate TO DO lists.
When I start to panic, I remember the question: "How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time."
Dear Lord, give me a small elephant.
And a larger fork.
I have THREE separate TO DO lists.
When I start to panic, I remember the question: "How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time."
Dear Lord, give me a small elephant.
And a larger fork.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Eat it or Delete it
An important thing to do before we move is to do what we call "Eat Down the Refrigerator". Obviously things that are in the frig can't be packed or moved unless we put them in a large cooler and take them with us. This also depends on where we're moving. TSA, being so unaccommodating, frowns on frozen food going through their airport x-ray machines.
So we tell ourselves "Eat those things and drink those drinks! Throw caution to the wind and make eclectic meals! Who cares if things don't actually 'go together'? We're being frugal and not wasting food!"
It adds an additional frisson of excitement to start a new adventure with a potential trip to the hospital for a stomach pumping.
So we tell ourselves "Eat those things and drink those drinks! Throw caution to the wind and make eclectic meals! Who cares if things don't actually 'go together'? We're being frugal and not wasting food!"
It adds an additional frisson of excitement to start a new adventure with a potential trip to the hospital for a stomach pumping.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Our Moving Rule
Note to Self: Remember our Moving Rule. "What is said two weeks before a move and two weeks after cannot be held against us."
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
The Road to Where We are Now
Colorado Springs: Our first apartment we couldn't open the living room closet once the new sofa got delivered. So we moved, and it was a good thing because that apartment was haunted.
Colorado Springs #2: Cute apartment upstairs in another old house. Our living room was above the bed room of the tenant below. We knew the man's name even before we met him because his girl friend was a screamer. "Bob, ohhh Bob! Bobbbbb!"
Then Bob got a doberman and a rottweiler that hated uniforms. When Mark tried to enter the yard to get to our apartment, the dogs would try to eat him. So we moved to a nice townhouse not far from that apartment.
Colorado Springs #3: If you rent a place from someone who works for the sheriff, it's probably going to be very safe. That would be because you've been subjected to a back ground check that includes everything but a colonoscopy.
First Move to Tucson: M's a grad student at the University of Arizona, a nice assignment since he's a full time student and never has to wear a uniform. Used to the mountains, trees and green grass of Colorado, I'm shocked as to how brown the desert is. One day M takes me for a drive "to get to know our new town." He drives down Speedway Boulevard, not knowing that LIFE magazine recently declared Speedway "The Ugliest Street in America". We pass pawn shops and strip joints. I look at Mark and croak (I've stopped speaking to him for two weeks) "NICE town." We burst out laughing and prepare to make Tucson our home.
We choose an apartment complex just because it has a patch of green grass out front-the only grass in the complex and I'm thinking-all of Tucson. The night we're supposed to move into our apartment, a pipe bursts and floods it. Management offers to put us up free in their "Show Apartment". The towels are tied prettily so we can't use them. The "bed" is a large cardboard fake, covered with a flimsy blanket. It is the hottest day of that year.
MASSACHUSETTS by way of NEW HAMPSHIRE: Mark gets his MIS and it's time to move. So we move to Massachusetts on the coldest day of the winter. We've celebrated New Years Day on the road. That sets a pattern of holidays spent not in a home. We spend a few days in the temporary lodging at Hanscom AFB in Bedford, MA. We rent a home in Nashua, New Hampshire because we're told the commute is not long. It's a big lie and the liars should be punished. Get on the road just a little late and it takes M almost 2 hours to get home. If it snows, which it always seems to do, M can be 4 hours getting home.
We like our rental house in Nashua, but a neighbor says to us "Houses never come up for rent in this neighborhood". Well, howdy yourself. Our other neighbors are retired Air Force-a real blessing. I can't wait until we get base housing and leave Nashua.
I have to supervise the move down to base housing on Hanscom because M is at a school in Mississippi for 6 WEEKS. Our movers, Larry, Darryl and Darryl, lose my dog, not long after I tell them to not open the basement door. Max, my schnauzer, runs away, apparently back to Tucson. I make the movers find him after I've told them "I've put up with a lot during this move. DO NOT lose my dog!" Max is found and we drive to the base.
While the movers are sitting on the curb, taking a break, I hear one of them say "This move is taking a long time." At the end of my rope, I open the window and yell at them "It wouldn't have taken so long if you HADN'T LOST MY DOG." Embarrassed looks all around.
Note to Self: Even if they deserve it, DON'T YELL AT YOUR MOVING MEN. They are responsible for hooking things up. The first time I used our washer, the water hose blew up, spewing dirty water all over me, the basement and Max who still wants to go back to Arizona.
Not knowing what to do, I go across the street, and introduce myself to the neighbor. Dale looks very scared, opening his door to this woman who apparently looks wild eyed and crazy. Dale helps me with the washer, goes back to his house and locks all the doors behind him.
Meanwhile, the phone company is on strike and I can't get a home phone hooked up. Mark is in school hundreds of miles away and the only way I can talk to him is by using the one and only phone booth on base. I want to kick out glass in the phone booth.
By now, I've met my neighbors on base and they are no longer afraid of me. My friend, Jan, takes me shopping one morning. That's the morning Mark is finally back from school. He's locked out of his home-the one I had to move into by myself. Our dog, Max, still nursing a grudge that he had to leave Arizona, won't let Mark in. I finally arrive and we start our life in Massachusetts.
Good things about Massachusetts:
1. we made wonderful friends there
2. Boston and all its attractions was a short drive away.
3. I discovered "coffee regulah": coffee with lots of cream and sugar at Dunkin' Donuts. (Apparently you couldn't be trusted to add your own condiments to your coffee)
4. Autumn in New England
5. Lobstah, scallops, clams, etc.
Bad things that happened in Massachusetts:
1. I found a lump on my breast. Good: it was benign. Bad: Mark was gone during this time. I felt so alone, I can still remember that ugly green hospital room.
2. I slipped on the stairs in our housing and tore my ACL. Surgery, then 6 months of twice a week rehabilitation. Mark was gone when this happened. My friend, Barb, drove me to Boston for my physical therapy sessions. I've never forgotten her kindness.
This is just the beginning of many moves and adventures. Every place we lived has its good and bad things. One thing they have in common is the friendships we made. I'm still in touch with those friends we made at Hanscom, over 20 years ago.
Colorado Springs #2: Cute apartment upstairs in another old house. Our living room was above the bed room of the tenant below. We knew the man's name even before we met him because his girl friend was a screamer. "Bob, ohhh Bob! Bobbbbb!"
Then Bob got a doberman and a rottweiler that hated uniforms. When Mark tried to enter the yard to get to our apartment, the dogs would try to eat him. So we moved to a nice townhouse not far from that apartment.
Colorado Springs #3: If you rent a place from someone who works for the sheriff, it's probably going to be very safe. That would be because you've been subjected to a back ground check that includes everything but a colonoscopy.
First Move to Tucson: M's a grad student at the University of Arizona, a nice assignment since he's a full time student and never has to wear a uniform. Used to the mountains, trees and green grass of Colorado, I'm shocked as to how brown the desert is. One day M takes me for a drive "to get to know our new town." He drives down Speedway Boulevard, not knowing that LIFE magazine recently declared Speedway "The Ugliest Street in America". We pass pawn shops and strip joints. I look at Mark and croak (I've stopped speaking to him for two weeks) "NICE town." We burst out laughing and prepare to make Tucson our home.
We choose an apartment complex just because it has a patch of green grass out front-the only grass in the complex and I'm thinking-all of Tucson. The night we're supposed to move into our apartment, a pipe bursts and floods it. Management offers to put us up free in their "Show Apartment". The towels are tied prettily so we can't use them. The "bed" is a large cardboard fake, covered with a flimsy blanket. It is the hottest day of that year.
MASSACHUSETTS by way of NEW HAMPSHIRE: Mark gets his MIS and it's time to move. So we move to Massachusetts on the coldest day of the winter. We've celebrated New Years Day on the road. That sets a pattern of holidays spent not in a home. We spend a few days in the temporary lodging at Hanscom AFB in Bedford, MA. We rent a home in Nashua, New Hampshire because we're told the commute is not long. It's a big lie and the liars should be punished. Get on the road just a little late and it takes M almost 2 hours to get home. If it snows, which it always seems to do, M can be 4 hours getting home.
We like our rental house in Nashua, but a neighbor says to us "Houses never come up for rent in this neighborhood". Well, howdy yourself. Our other neighbors are retired Air Force-a real blessing. I can't wait until we get base housing and leave Nashua.
I have to supervise the move down to base housing on Hanscom because M is at a school in Mississippi for 6 WEEKS. Our movers, Larry, Darryl and Darryl, lose my dog, not long after I tell them to not open the basement door. Max, my schnauzer, runs away, apparently back to Tucson. I make the movers find him after I've told them "I've put up with a lot during this move. DO NOT lose my dog!" Max is found and we drive to the base.
While the movers are sitting on the curb, taking a break, I hear one of them say "This move is taking a long time." At the end of my rope, I open the window and yell at them "It wouldn't have taken so long if you HADN'T LOST MY DOG." Embarrassed looks all around.
Note to Self: Even if they deserve it, DON'T YELL AT YOUR MOVING MEN. They are responsible for hooking things up. The first time I used our washer, the water hose blew up, spewing dirty water all over me, the basement and Max who still wants to go back to Arizona.
Not knowing what to do, I go across the street, and introduce myself to the neighbor. Dale looks very scared, opening his door to this woman who apparently looks wild eyed and crazy. Dale helps me with the washer, goes back to his house and locks all the doors behind him.
Meanwhile, the phone company is on strike and I can't get a home phone hooked up. Mark is in school hundreds of miles away and the only way I can talk to him is by using the one and only phone booth on base. I want to kick out glass in the phone booth.
By now, I've met my neighbors on base and they are no longer afraid of me. My friend, Jan, takes me shopping one morning. That's the morning Mark is finally back from school. He's locked out of his home-the one I had to move into by myself. Our dog, Max, still nursing a grudge that he had to leave Arizona, won't let Mark in. I finally arrive and we start our life in Massachusetts.
Good things about Massachusetts:
1. we made wonderful friends there
2. Boston and all its attractions was a short drive away.
3. I discovered "coffee regulah": coffee with lots of cream and sugar at Dunkin' Donuts. (Apparently you couldn't be trusted to add your own condiments to your coffee)
4. Autumn in New England
5. Lobstah, scallops, clams, etc.
Bad things that happened in Massachusetts:
1. I found a lump on my breast. Good: it was benign. Bad: Mark was gone during this time. I felt so alone, I can still remember that ugly green hospital room.
2. I slipped on the stairs in our housing and tore my ACL. Surgery, then 6 months of twice a week rehabilitation. Mark was gone when this happened. My friend, Barb, drove me to Boston for my physical therapy sessions. I've never forgotten her kindness.
This is just the beginning of many moves and adventures. Every place we lived has its good and bad things. One thing they have in common is the friendships we made. I'm still in touch with those friends we made at Hanscom, over 20 years ago.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Miles and Miles and Miles
My husband is on his way to Colorado Springs again, driving his prized BMW Z-1. Our move would be much simpler if someone didn't own so many cars. But then someone has a lot of pets, so we're calling it even.
My husband has a lot of traveling to do this weekend. Tucson to Colorado Springs, to California, back to Colorado Springs and then to Tucson. Then he packs and flies to Paris. He racked up the miles when he was working in London so that when I came to visit him there, I got to fly First Class or Business. (What an experience. I'm spoiled forever for Coach.) So once again he'll collect some more miles.
Me-I'm already starting the process of deciding what's going into storage, what's getting sold or donated and what I'll take to Colorado Springs. I'm getting very brutal about it too. If it hasn't been used in a year, it's gone.
When M was in the Air Force, we were always aware of what we had when it came to leaving. We were allotted so many pounds of household goods. If you went over that amount you had to pay for the difference. Moving is expensive no way around it-even if you're doing it yourself. (Do it Yourself moves lead to divorce, if you ask me.)
This move is trigging all kinds of memories. Things always happen, despite the best planning. I have learned to roll with it. Barring that, there's liquor that needs drinking because the movers won't pack it.
My husband's beloved BMW Z-1 he bought in England and had shipped to Tucson. I've never driven it.
My husband has a lot of traveling to do this weekend. Tucson to Colorado Springs, to California, back to Colorado Springs and then to Tucson. Then he packs and flies to Paris. He racked up the miles when he was working in London so that when I came to visit him there, I got to fly First Class or Business. (What an experience. I'm spoiled forever for Coach.) So once again he'll collect some more miles.
Me-I'm already starting the process of deciding what's going into storage, what's getting sold or donated and what I'll take to Colorado Springs. I'm getting very brutal about it too. If it hasn't been used in a year, it's gone.
When M was in the Air Force, we were always aware of what we had when it came to leaving. We were allotted so many pounds of household goods. If you went over that amount you had to pay for the difference. Moving is expensive no way around it-even if you're doing it yourself. (Do it Yourself moves lead to divorce, if you ask me.)
This move is trigging all kinds of memories. Things always happen, despite the best planning. I have learned to roll with it. Barring that, there's liquor that needs drinking because the movers won't pack it.
My husband's beloved BMW Z-1 he bought in England and had shipped to Tucson. I've never driven it. Monday, April 15, 2013
A Love Letter to Bean Town
A perfect, 50 degree day to run the historic Boston Marathon. Those being honored are from Newtown, Connecticut.
Towards the end of the race, two bombs went off. Three are dead, including an 8 year old boy. Over a hundred are hurt, some with devastating injuries. On a beautiful spring day in Bean Town, in a race dedicated to raising money for charitable causes.
I'm not a city dweller but I could live in Boston. When we were stationed at Hanscom AFB in Bedford, Massachusetts we weren't far from Boston's busy center. Lots to do, great food, and fun, hard working people who love their sports teams, professional and collegiate. We had so much fun there.
I remember attending a military retirement ceremony aboard the USS Constitution. Being escorted and piped aboard Old Ironsides, surrounded by men and women in their Dress Whites, on a perfect day in Boston. I held onto my hat and smoothed down my dress as I walked across the plank with my husband, so handsome in his Mess Dress.
I remember one St. Patrick's Day, standing outside the Purple Shamrock, being offered a shoe box by a pretty, laughing Irish girl. Inside the box-a bottle of whiskey. Why not? It was St. Patty's Day in Boston!
I remember buying a Red Sox sweatshirt because it was cold, and I was in Fenway Park on Opening Day in April. I ate a sausage on a bun, slathered in grilled vegetables. I remember still how good it was! And we beat the despised Yankees that day!
I remember being in a wheel chair, after I had my torn ACL operated on. I knew I was in very good hands though. On my doctor's wall was a photo of the Boston Celtics. My doctor was standing to the left of Celtic great Kevin McHale.
I remember the anniversary after I'd had my surgery. My recovery was going far slower than expected, I was in physical therapy twice a week for months. To lift my spirits, my husband booked a weekend to celebrate our anniversary. It was at the Boston Copley Square Hotel.
How surreal it was to watch the television coverage today and to recognize the places we loved. Instead of a day filled with accomplishment, fun and excitement...well, I won't forget the scenes I saw today.
Boston, you are one amazing city and your people are wicked tough. My thoughts and prayers are with you today and always.
Towards the end of the race, two bombs went off. Three are dead, including an 8 year old boy. Over a hundred are hurt, some with devastating injuries. On a beautiful spring day in Bean Town, in a race dedicated to raising money for charitable causes.
I'm not a city dweller but I could live in Boston. When we were stationed at Hanscom AFB in Bedford, Massachusetts we weren't far from Boston's busy center. Lots to do, great food, and fun, hard working people who love their sports teams, professional and collegiate. We had so much fun there.
I remember attending a military retirement ceremony aboard the USS Constitution. Being escorted and piped aboard Old Ironsides, surrounded by men and women in their Dress Whites, on a perfect day in Boston. I held onto my hat and smoothed down my dress as I walked across the plank with my husband, so handsome in his Mess Dress.
I remember one St. Patrick's Day, standing outside the Purple Shamrock, being offered a shoe box by a pretty, laughing Irish girl. Inside the box-a bottle of whiskey. Why not? It was St. Patty's Day in Boston!
I remember buying a Red Sox sweatshirt because it was cold, and I was in Fenway Park on Opening Day in April. I ate a sausage on a bun, slathered in grilled vegetables. I remember still how good it was! And we beat the despised Yankees that day!
I remember being in a wheel chair, after I had my torn ACL operated on. I knew I was in very good hands though. On my doctor's wall was a photo of the Boston Celtics. My doctor was standing to the left of Celtic great Kevin McHale.
I remember the anniversary after I'd had my surgery. My recovery was going far slower than expected, I was in physical therapy twice a week for months. To lift my spirits, my husband booked a weekend to celebrate our anniversary. It was at the Boston Copley Square Hotel.
How surreal it was to watch the television coverage today and to recognize the places we loved. Instead of a day filled with accomplishment, fun and excitement...well, I won't forget the scenes I saw today.
Boston, you are one amazing city and your people are wicked tough. My thoughts and prayers are with you today and always.
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Plan of Action Part I
Some of our friends have wondered what I was going to do with all my pets while M works in Paris? Of course I want to live in Paris the entire time my husband is there. But that's not going to be possible for me and I'm fine with it. I have several "Fids"--furred, feathered and finned "kids", who are my family and there is no way I am willing to part with them. So we're going to do what we did when M went to work in London a few years ago. I'll stay back in the States and travel to Paris as much as possible and stay as long as possible. M's company will pay for me to fly to Paris once a year every year he's there. M has thousands of Frequent Flier Miles that need to be used.
We do have some major differences this time-I have more pets than a few years ago. I have my 2 cockatoos and a Meyers parrot. I've been lucky to have someone take care of them who has experience with exotic birds. My turtles don't require any special care but my pet chameleon does. It's VERY expensive to have to board my dogs for any length of time, and now I have six of them.
We also know we aren't coming back here to Tucson to after our time in Paris. Jobs in my husband's field are getting harder to find here. After all this time he wants to do something different, and we don't want to do it here. So we've made some major decisions. We've decided to sell this house.
Since we've been married, we've bought and sold more than half a dozen houses. Realtors are not my favorite people. I have experiences with them that still make my hair stand on end. Like the realtor who called us from OUR DRIVEWAY to say "We were just driving by and saw the For Sale sign and wonder if we can look at your house?" And the realtor in Colorado Springs who assured us she'd called a seller to see her house only to find one very annoyed seller who was adamant she hadn't. Then there was the realtor who seemed to ignore our desires and showed us exactly what we didn't want....Anyway, you get the idea. Realtors give me a headache.
So what did I discover today? That M had hired a realtor and insisted he'd sent me an email telling me so. A check of my spam and my email showed "Oh no you didn't". Cue the beginnings of a headache. Then the realtor called this afternoon and wanted to know if he could send a photographer out this Friday to our house? WHAT?! M doesn't even know when he's supposed to be in Paris to start work. He doesn't even know when he'll be back here to help with the household move. I could still be here in July. And the realtor is hot to start the FOR SALE process now? What part of "We don't want to still be living here when the house is for sale" did he not get?
My first impulse was to panic. Get the house cleaned, keep the bird room neat (ha!) and as for my studio... I know the realtor loves our house but did he really see my studio when he walked through? I KNOW a house should be de-cluttered before it gets shown. Again--did the realtor really SEE my studio when he walked through?
Guess what? This time around I'm doing things my way. No one, not even M, is going to rush me. I will not be at a realtor's beck and call. I am the seller. And I'm in no big hurry.
Our things here will go into storage. I'm moving with my menagerie, to Colorado Springs while my husband is in Paris.
No move is ever simple,many things can happen or go wrong. I have lots of experience from all the moves we've made over the years. And I have the headaches to prove it.
We do have some major differences this time-I have more pets than a few years ago. I have my 2 cockatoos and a Meyers parrot. I've been lucky to have someone take care of them who has experience with exotic birds. My turtles don't require any special care but my pet chameleon does. It's VERY expensive to have to board my dogs for any length of time, and now I have six of them.
We also know we aren't coming back here to Tucson to after our time in Paris. Jobs in my husband's field are getting harder to find here. After all this time he wants to do something different, and we don't want to do it here. So we've made some major decisions. We've decided to sell this house.
Since we've been married, we've bought and sold more than half a dozen houses. Realtors are not my favorite people. I have experiences with them that still make my hair stand on end. Like the realtor who called us from OUR DRIVEWAY to say "We were just driving by and saw the For Sale sign and wonder if we can look at your house?" And the realtor in Colorado Springs who assured us she'd called a seller to see her house only to find one very annoyed seller who was adamant she hadn't. Then there was the realtor who seemed to ignore our desires and showed us exactly what we didn't want....Anyway, you get the idea. Realtors give me a headache.
So what did I discover today? That M had hired a realtor and insisted he'd sent me an email telling me so. A check of my spam and my email showed "Oh no you didn't". Cue the beginnings of a headache. Then the realtor called this afternoon and wanted to know if he could send a photographer out this Friday to our house? WHAT?! M doesn't even know when he's supposed to be in Paris to start work. He doesn't even know when he'll be back here to help with the household move. I could still be here in July. And the realtor is hot to start the FOR SALE process now? What part of "We don't want to still be living here when the house is for sale" did he not get?
My first impulse was to panic. Get the house cleaned, keep the bird room neat (ha!) and as for my studio... I know the realtor loves our house but did he really see my studio when he walked through? I KNOW a house should be de-cluttered before it gets shown. Again--did the realtor really SEE my studio when he walked through?
Guess what? This time around I'm doing things my way. No one, not even M, is going to rush me. I will not be at a realtor's beck and call. I am the seller. And I'm in no big hurry.
Our things here will go into storage. I'm moving with my menagerie, to Colorado Springs while my husband is in Paris.
No move is ever simple,many things can happen or go wrong. I have lots of experience from all the moves we've made over the years. And I have the headaches to prove it.
Saturday, April 13, 2013
My Horoscope Today
"Here we go! The changes you've been waiting for are en route and in motion, as of right now. You'll have plenty of energy to get the job done -- enough and more, in fact. So when you're suddenly asked to step up to the plate and take on a bit more responsibility, you'll be only too happy to agree. Oh, and don't worry about being compensated, either. You'll likely be very pleased with what you're offered."
And So it Begins
I'm a firm believer in saying "YES!" to something I want or believe in, even if I don't know how I'm going to pull it off. Which is how this whole "living in Paris" thing came up. The opportunity presented itself to my husband, and he asked me what I thought. I took the time a mayfly has to live to ponder it. A major life change deserves at least 30 minutes to 24 hours thought. "Yes. Yes. YES!" We were going to go for it.
It's been a *month*-the only way I can describe it. My husband, who I shall henceforth call "DH", was on the phone and his computer full-time. There's an 8 hour difference between Tucson and Paris, so that made for phone calls at inopportune times. We've learned from all our moves to never count on anything unless you have it on paper. So we held our breath until the papers arrived.
We've been married 27 years. We've lived in 7 states and 2 foreign countries in that time span. As an Army brat and an Air Force wife (DH retired from the Air Force after 20 years) we have some experience with moving. (Despite every move being different, there are some things in common. Like a huge fight sometime or losing a dog or two in the packing material.) So we kinda know what we're in for.
We have To Do lists on reams of paper. Item #1 on mine is "Have a LOT of aspirin on hand." I was going to write more about this move, but suddenly I have a headache.
It's been a *month*-the only way I can describe it. My husband, who I shall henceforth call "DH", was on the phone and his computer full-time. There's an 8 hour difference between Tucson and Paris, so that made for phone calls at inopportune times. We've learned from all our moves to never count on anything unless you have it on paper. So we held our breath until the papers arrived.
We've been married 27 years. We've lived in 7 states and 2 foreign countries in that time span. As an Army brat and an Air Force wife (DH retired from the Air Force after 20 years) we have some experience with moving. (Despite every move being different, there are some things in common. Like a huge fight sometime or losing a dog or two in the packing material.) So we kinda know what we're in for.
We have To Do lists on reams of paper. Item #1 on mine is "Have a LOT of aspirin on hand." I was going to write more about this move, but suddenly I have a headache.
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