One thing led to another

It started out with a bright idea for a little treat for breakfast this morning as we picked up the moving truck.

Which became lunch.

Which became dinner.

Which became embarrassing.

And, quite frankly, Jacob isn't even home yet, so who knows where it will stop.

Here we were, there we are, away we go

Once again, we find ourselves surrounded by our lives - all packed up.

The laundry is done, suitcases are packed and boxes stacked. As I sit here surrounded by it, I'm struck how cluttered a place can be when its entirely packed up.

So, Jacob has made us all proud with his devoted and strong finish to this semester, not to mention this tremendous offer and opportunity for work. I have made us proud by rolling (mostly - only a couple of meltdowns) with the punches to get us all organized, arranged, domiciled and scheduled, with the notable help of two fabulous moms who broke all the "in-" laws to take a road trip through five states and spend a couple of days with their kiddos doing manual labor, aka packing (joys of family!).

Tomorrow we pick up the moving truck again (frequent flier discount anyone?) and head back to Kentucky to start our new era (our eras, in case you haven't noticed, tend to be pretty short, but hey it keeps things interesting), and even though there's so much change and uncertainty and insecurity in a way, I know that we're doing it together. We've changed everything up so many times in the last two years, but Jacob has been my constant, my partner, my gift from God. And for that I'm thankful. I know no matter where we go, how many times we pack, move, change, shift or drift, he'll be there.

It also happens that as we approach this Christmas season, we approach our anniversary, so here's to my husband. A little memory of us when we didn't know what it was like to live in wedded bliss in a dorm room with the bathroom down the hall, to be sick for entire months at a time, to be uncontrollably cold at all hours of the day and night, to learn Arabic only to be stuck attempting French, to revel in the discovery of french fries, to enjoy the security of American fast food in a way never imagined, to live without a toilet seat, to live constantly with sand, in short, to live in adventure - together.

Away we go! Photo by Michelle Young, Endearing Studios (the best photographer ever)

In vagabondary and stability

Our vows didn't actually say anything about vagabondary and, as a bit of a grammarian, I have to admit that it's not a word (vagabondage is, though...), but I have packed and unpacked various amounts and contents of our belongings 10 times in our just-shy-of-two-years marriage. Tonight starts lucky number 11.  Eleven out of at least 14 by the time June rolls around

And that means that right about now, six and two half-boxes in, there's only one box I'm really thinking about: the box of wine on top of the fridge.

But, as much as this task ahead of me is making me feel a little desperate and overwhelmed - and I do - tonight I choose to be thankful: that we have a home and belongings that make our lives comfortable, that I have a wonderful, intelligent husband who excels at his studies and business ventures, that we are blessed beyond all measure in so many things.

Oh, and thankful for some hot chili (mom's recipe)

And thankful for both of our sweet moms, who are headed down to help me pack this week while Jacob works on finals.

Help on packing? Now that's love.

The Palmetto State

My first trip to South Carolina was a wonderfully spontaneous trip with my mom and dad just after Christmas a few years ago. Dad and I, in typical form, were itching to get somewhere - anywhere especially away from the cold. Mom, in typical form, was sweetly grudging in her limited protest and eventual acquiescence.

We hopped in the car and drove and drove, through the beautiful routes of which I've become so fond. Those mid-South to Southern foothill treelined roads full of mist and green smells. We listened to repeats of TV shows on satellite radio and quizzed each other on the holy grail of Sabatino existence: trivia.

I don't remember what all we quizzed on, but one question he asked me that I got which totally threw him was what is the South Carolina state motto?

And now look at me...headed down there for good the next few months. Signing off for a few days while we pack up the truck and move it again...

Now That's Therapy

Remember when we bought the party time? Well, we bought it knowing that there was no AC. We got a good deal and it was fine because I'm not a total AC girl anyhow - my most beloved vehicle was the old jeep I was allowed to drive in hs (it was supposed to be my dad's fun car) which had little climate control at all and which was frequently topless and doorless - the better to blow out my poor dad's speakers. It was also ok because it was like March or April or some month generally considered to still be late winter in Cleveland.

We just figured we'd get the AC fixed sometime closer to the SC move date, which would be after a couple of months and maybe we'd have a bit more cash. Isn't that how it works? If you wait a little longer you always have more money? Haha. No, grasshopper. Well, actually, Jacob worked insanely hard last month and made a bonus and he insisted we repair the AC sometime before we move to the sticky south (it was 103 PLUS humidity and heat index when mom and I were there looking for apartments).

So I made one of my trips down to Lex, a process I think I could now effectively market as a spa treatment for traveling sales people. Want a cleanse in a sauna-like environment but never have to miss a beat on your out of state appointment? Ride with me and by the time you're to the next stop, I promise you'll have sweated out all the toxins in your body plus at least a couple of pounds and you'll only need to refuel with vitamin water because the sheer temperature of your corpus will be too high for you to even consider ingesting something that requires processing.

Between moving and all this hot driving (Hot driving! It's like hot yoga but you can sit on your butt the whole time!), I'm pretty sure I will lose whatever weight I've gained while up here away from a gym and generally doing random consulting work while sitting on my (increasingly flat) butt - can that happen? Does your butt flatten if you sit on it too much? Danger!

Anyway, so I took the car in last week because I already had a dinner scheduled with my old boss and colleagues and it was my mom's bday, so I figured knock it all out at once (actually, I'd already had it fixed and the compressor went out after two days). Two interstate spa-treatment cleanse round trips, two weeks, three compressors, about 84,000 ounces of freon, a non-leak and a lot of frustrated Spanglish conversations, still no AC. It would seem that there is a bad sensor. So, inshallah, next week, when we return (for one golden day) to pick up the moving truck and load all of our stuff, the sensor will be in and installed and...work?

This has actually become a bit more critical since we are now down to one car. Oh, I didn't mention that? That's right, Ohio has one other shining offering for those who dare venture to this midwestern mecca: a plethora of poorly-planned construction zones infested with $@!**% drivers, who I happen to believe are also just bad people. People who would refuse to let you in while you're trying to accommodate other drivers in a tight spot, people who would speed up and honk just to emphasize that fact and then after they leave you in the shit, trying to avoid causing a huge pileup on the interstate and subsequently crashing headlong into a median, they drive on, not even bothering to call the police. They leave you (or actually my husband who could have, for all they knew, been seriously injured) with a smashed car that's spun out, with airbags deployed, facing oncoming traffic and don't even bother to call the police.

I would have given away that Honda and the Party Time and my house and my dog and anything else I have for the result of that accident, which was that Jacob was completely fine, praise the Lord, so it's not like this is a true challenge in the game of life. It's just a pain in the neck, but I happen to think that there are enough pains in the neck that happen in life without the help of jackasses and can't we all just get along?

Ha. Hahahahahaha. HHhhhhHHHHaaaaAAAAAAAAAaahhhhhhaaaaaaAAAAAA!

Oh, that was nice. It's so good to have a good laugh, you know?

Now that's therapy.

Home Sweet (Next) Home

I may have talked about this before, but there was an impertinent moment in my youth when I was incredulous at my mom's wanting to stay put - in Indiana, in her comfy home with all her friends around (sounds terrible, right?).

After our excursions abroad (and in the US, have I mentioned I live in Northeast Ohio right now?), I found myself in a strange place when mom and I traveled to South Carolina last week: I was looking for a home. Not just the next place to land, not just a shelter that covered the necessities. I found myself really desiring a place that Jacob and I can unpack, stretch out and settle down. Did I just say those words? Yes. Settle down.

So somehow, when we found a couple of places that fit the technical bill, I still found myself stressed and hesitating. Seeing as we lived in what we were told was the only available apartment in Burami, Oman after sharing a two-bedroom house with other fellow students (and they were even kind enough to give us the one working bedroom) after sharing a dorm building, I guess I was holding out hope for a little something more.

My new rockstar friend E drove me around on our last full day in town and she is the ONLY reason we found this place. I didn't want to call the numbers we found that day, and I didn't want to go see the only place from all 15 numbers I called that was: in our price range, had W/D hookups, and would allow my dog. Sitting outside, waiting for the landlord, I thought, there's no way this will be worth it. But I think I was wrong...

Front porch! Brick duplex! Yard! Cute 'hood! Bikeable to campus!!!

Built in bookshelves! Fireplace! In the (paraphrased) words of my mom and mother in law, 

this just looks like you. I'm excited for it to look like us. 

This is a place I can see our lives. I can see Jacob coming home in the evening and walking my dog in the neighborhood and having dinner parties. Al humdulallah! Now just remember, Columbia, SC is so very close to lots of fun things like Asheville, Savannah, Charleston - and it's not too bad itself. Come visit!

Home Sweet Home

Today mom and I are taking a little girls' retreat to South Carolina to scout out Jacob's and my next living arrangement. I can't believe that, since we've been married, we've lived in Morocco, the UAE, Oman and the US. In addition to those countries, we've traveled to Egypt, Jordan, France, Italy...and we've also stayed in the states of Indiana, Kentucky, Ohio (commonly known as the tristate area). Now we move down South to Cackalack. 

We're hoping for the holy grail of married housing. Affordable, bikable, dogable, launderable. 

Well, hoping and praying. 

Shoulda been a reality tv show

I watch TV a lot right now, ok? Like probably way above the national average of that study they showed us at church last week. It's always on when Jacob isn't home - even if I'm doing work (house or otherwise), even if it's on mute...and Jacob works a lot. You do the math.

ANYway, I saw this True Life recently (True Life: I'm a newlywed), and one of the couples got married and then the bride immediately moved to Indianapolis with her new groom (11 hours away from her family home). It was all drama drama drama, as those shows are wont to be, and she's upset she can't bring her blue chair and he eats pizza at 1:37 am. There are tears and bouts of irritation and lots of adjustment.

But I'm like, child, you have no idea. At least Indy has pro football.

We totally should have been a reality show. True Life: I'm a newlywed overseas in the middle east wearing long sleeves in 120 degrees and PS we were engaged for three months after dating three months.

But that's not much for reality.

Bliss

This is my husband - and my dog - laying on my lap last weekend at my mom's house. Can I tell you how excited I am that I get to have them both when we move to SC? So happy!

Thanks, husband, for letting me bring my puppy even though I fawn over him sometimes and it's going to be more expensive and difficult to find a place that takes dogs. I promise I always like you much much more than him.

Mama Mia!

I took off at the end of last week and headed Indy-way to visit a bit with my family and friends here and, even though it was a pretty short time, there have been lots of good times. It's amazing how sometimes (especially when you're home or in the company of those you love) even the really basic things can be wonderful.

Mom and I spent a good bit of time rummaging through the attic in a process of sorting and un-boxing and reboxing that seems neverending and frustrating but that always yields fun stuff (wedding gifts! thought-to-be-lost kitchen accessories!). We attempted to figure out how to finish a set of Kate Spade Library Lane flatware when it's not available anywhere - or sell it (we decided on sell it - you want it? Try here), but that was after Sarah and I had a nasty adventure with an unhappy (I suppose about most everything) clerk at Macy's named Chuck. I have no problem reporting this and saying that I will furthermore avoid Macy's home department at the Greenwood Park Mall like the plague, and maybe all Macy's stores hereafter (sorry, manager James, not even your helpfulness could mediate that attitude). Mom and I cooked a heart healthy meal from the Mayo Clinic (which I will spare this site, lest you try to prepare and eat it - blech). I also got to spend lots of time with my girls (Sarah and her beautiful baby Mia), drive my Mustang (so did the husband) and cook breakfast for my mom this morning before I left.

That recipe, I will post - because if you make it, you'll enjoy it and because I can tell you about how I used my torch! I have a torch! It was a birthday gift from Sarah but I never went out to get the butane tank to fill it up and now I am a wannabe chef so I found it and got motivated. It's awesome. So is oatmeal brulee...

Oatmeal Brulee
Prepare oats (regular or quick) according to directions, but instead of all water, I like to use half water and half milk. If you want to be decadent then use some half and half in the mix.
Add to the warming liquid (before you stir in the oats):
a pinch of salt
Cinnamon to taste (I put in about 1/8 of a t for 2 servings)
Brown Sugar to taste (1-2 T)
Butter (1 T)

Cook oats until thickened (if you don't have a torch, lightly butter or spray your oven-safe bowls with cooking spray and heat your oven to broil) and then pour or spoon finished oats into bowls. Sprinkle white sugar on top (about 1 T per serving or until it's covered) and run the flame over the sugar until it bubbles and browns OR put your bowls in to broil for just a couple of minutes until the sugar bubbles and browns.

Serve with berries.

The whole visit was enhanced by the appearance of my darling husband for the middle couple of days. I love him so much for driving five hours each way to come spend time with me and my family. As much as they love me, they really love him (because he's not even related to me and he still loves me so sweetly - and knows how to handle me!) and they love having him around, too. Yay for visits! Yay for husband! Yay that I'll be back with him this evening.

That is all.

What I really want to know

Does anyone else love Rob&Big? I know it's not on the air anymore, but I love it, V loves it, my brother loves it...it's a great show, mostly because it's full of hijinks and wackiness - much like my beloved husband.

What does this have to do with me? Well, I was watching it today and Rob's parents come into town and the entire episode was dedicated to Rob trying to drive his mom crazy. He drives too fast, passes too much, says crap a lot, jumps off a tour bus, breaks the law by plastering city property with street team stickers, fakes an arrest and tries to make her cry by reading cheesy poetry.

So, what I really want to know is, am I destined to have a son who acts like this?

I'll answer my own question: have you ever met my husband? (or me?)

Home is where...

Just as Jacob and I got engaged nearly two years ago, his family experienced a bit of a material tragedy. I say material because no one was injured, but the family house burned in an accident. Though some of my darling's collection of mementos and a couple of Moroccan rugs were taken up in the blaze, the important things were spared, ie family members and the basic structure of the house. They moved out to a temporary apartment and then a rental house and eventually back into the reconstructed (and redesigned) home.

We have lived a parallel existence in a way. During the time that we were packed up and living abroad, they were packed up and living in temporary quarters. But now, they are unpacked and settled in and we are...still packed up.

I remember a card that someone got them posted on the fridge. It said,

Check out Curly Girl designs from The Good Life company for more designs like this!

As I paw through the next share of potential homes in our next destination town, I'm thinking about all the things that I'll be unpacking that might make our house more of a home - dishes (a set large enough for a dinner party), a waffle iron (that one's for the husband) for Saturday morning breakfasts, familiar furniture...but even more, I know I'll be taking my heart - oh, and my dog.

Pain in the neck

Well, we made it through a 12+ hour day of driving, riding and flying (sort of) at Cedar Point yesterday and the first thing I'll say is, HALLELUJAH, a day free of rain. I don't know if it was truly miracle weather and the clouds parted for family day or if it's just that we escaped the pocket of persistent cloudy raininess that hangs over the Fairlawn/Akron area. WHO CARES. Sun, الحمدلله!


It's a good thing we enjoyed it, though, because it's back to rainy with a neckache here. All those fantastic rides (and we did all of them - all the good ones anyway - twice) took me back to summers with the Sabatino family, our couple-day mini-vacations to theme parks and the family dares to do the next biggest ride or stunt or thrill. They took me back to being a kid in a way - and reminded me how much of an adult I am. 


Like I said, rainy with a neckache...we woke up this morning and looked at each other and said a collective, "ow." Ow for the neckache and backache, and bruised quads and cracking knees and sore feet. 


Oh, well. It was worth it. 

ilovemywife.com

I'm so ridiculously spoiled. Spoiled by my sweet husband who is working so hard right now and still comes home and has the energy and good nature to have sweet dinners with me. Spoiled by his thoughtfulness in bringing home "Hot Lady" roses for me (they're hot pink) after driving around to four different Giant Eagles to find "good flowers," because the other ones didn't look good. Spoiled by the tiny little things like letters after we've been away from each other and naming our wireless network so that I think of him every time I get online. Thanks, love. And thanks, God.

Plant a big one on me

The other day, Jacob went on an expedition to find me flowers and when he couldn't find a bouquet of peonies (my favorite flower), he bought me...a shrubbery!

Ok, not exactly a shrubbery, but, a peony bush.

A rush of emotions went through me when I realized what he had done: gratefulness, appreciation, confusion and panic. Panic because I am not a plant person. I killed the memorial hydrangeas a friend gave me after my father passed away (after she assured me I could not possibly kill them and then proceeded to plant them and arrange them for me). So, considering we are nomadic and I have nowhere to plant a bush (and no one to take care of it for me), I freaked out a bit.

I decided to carry it with me to Cleveland, after the wedding, because I didn't want to abandon it. So I carted it around in the Party Time and then to P&J's house in Brooklyn and then to our new place in Akron. Just about the time we were headed to our new apartment, I noticed a wrinkly brown leaf on the bush - a surefire sign of certain death.

Frantic texts were sent out, a phone consultation and some garden-center shopping followed and I settled it into this pot with some fresh soil and watered it and held my breath. It seemed to be doing fine and then Cleveland experienced about three days straight of rain and cold and rain and cold and rain and cold.

I once again ask the question: has anyone not mentioned to Cleveland how obscene it is to be this cold and nasty in MAY? Oh, and one other question. Can my plant have seasonal affective disorder? I think it's living (which is an accomplishment in and of itself), but probably depressed.

Table for One

This is what dinner looks like when the husband's not around:

Pan grilled marinated chicken with red wine reduction and spring greens

Unless, of course, it looks like this:

McDonalds Angus Third Pounder with bacon and sweet tea 

(am I the last in the whole world to catch on to McD sweet tea?!)

Tie-ins

thehardyheyday.blogspot.com

I didn't realize it at first, but when Jacob and I went shopping upon our return to the states for a few essentials it occurred to me I've picked up a new responsibility: dressing my husband. I'm not saying he can't pick out his clothes, or that men can't dress themselves. But I've never participated in the opinion-giving process for guys' clothes.

I know what I like when I see it, I guess. I definitely know what I don't like when I see it.

I'm not bad at sweaters, dress shirts, polos, khakis, shoes even, blazers sometimes, belts maybe. But ties?

I have no idea.

Is this really my job? If so, I'm going to need some training.

Routinely out of schedule

There's a popular book for business people operating in the Middle East called, "Don't They Know It's Friday?", which addresses the confusion over scheduling snafus resulting from Eastern v Western schedules. Friday is holy day in many Muslim countries and, therefore, not a working day. Our weeks generally operated on a Sunday-Thursday schedule and our neighbors in Oman were mostly Saturday-Wednesday (I think). Back home in the states, a typical work week is...

dependent, I guess, on what you do. I've always worked jobs that are structured on the Monday - Friday, but required a bit more than that - as Jacob's job right now does. Bless than man's hardworking heart, he is killing it every day except Sunday and a couple of hours on Monday. And not just 9-5. Oh, no. He is out the door most mornings at 8 and comes back in 12 hours later, if we're lucky.

So I'm routinely out of schedule. Even when I spend a couple of hours every day slacking off or exploring or daydreaming or reading, I'm still left with plenty of time to get my work done and still miss the man. What's a girl to do? Not that I'm complaining, mind you, just super appreciative of everything he's doing and hopefully expressing just how proud I am of all his hard work.

Rice-in

thehardyheyday.blogspot.com

Remember when it was all the rage to send some kind of poisonous powder to some government office (and just for that line, I fattened up my FBI file for sure, just like all the little geniuses who joined that facebook group 'Dear Lord, this year you took my favorite actor Patrick Swayze, my favorite actress Farah Fawcett...yada yada, Barack Obama is my favorite president'. Don't you people know anything? If Al Gore invented the internet, Barack owns it - but I guess he is giving it away so, whatever right? Wrong. Add a page to all their files. Maybe two. And audit them).

Anyway. that was a major tangent and the point was, I made rice so bad the other day that it could have been poison. Thus 'Rice-in,' it's a play on words. Get it? Gah, what a waste. At least it's Saturday. It was, what I hope is a few-and-far-between black mark on my cooking record. It was rice porridge. It was rice soup. It was pure gluten in a pot. A pot which boiled over and spewed, well, I'm not going to describe it. I did take a picture of it, though. Mostly because it dried and peeled off the pan in these crinkled little rivulets that make you wonder just what is in the food you eat if this is what happens to it when you leave it alone for two seconds?! (Oh, and because my husband still did the dishes - even after being presented with that monstrosity for dinner)

So, I have been cut down to size once again. This is a sidenote that I think will inspire a new label called 'I was wrong'. This post is dedicated to my brother who, when he complained about not being able to cook rice, I teased. He has a rice cooker, now. And I am a sucker.

PS-I was so excited to read notes from people who know the GIANT EAGLE personally! Love it!

Baby, it's cold outside

Have I mentioned Cleveland is cold?

Because it is.

The upside?

We get to see spring again, yay!

But it still stinks when you wake up and the floors are cold.