I wrote the following to give at our farewell luncheon two days from now. Had to get it done before they wrapped up my computer for shipping...
"I write these words surrounded by boxes, paper, muddy floors, the sound of tape being laid and the smell of cardboard. Bill and I are exhausted beyond belief and still not finished. My home office is the only safe zone left, door is closed and movers ordered not to enter until the very end.
The end is near, so I must gather my thoughts about how to say goodbye to you, my many friends and coworkers. Both of us have procrastinated about something hard to do the last few weeks. These words are my “hard to do.”
Nearly 18 years ago I came to Europe saying “three years and I’m outta there.”
Obviously, I failed in that pledge.
I am the family wanderer. The one that goes out on the edge, according to my younger sister. I have always gone places and done things no one else did because I always tend to find the wonder in things and places and, even now, maintain an interest and curiosity.
My 18 years in Europe have been so very interesting. I have travelled to places I never thought I'd see. I have ridden a camel in Cairo, driven a jeep over frighteningly high, rail-free bridges in Croatia, danced in Turkey, stood on the edge of a volcano in Italy, eaten roasted chestnuts in London and pigeon in Egypt, spent the night in a thatched cottage on a stormy Aran island. I have been in every DeCA Europe country except Saudi.
They have been curious…just this week I found a dead bat in the guest room of my house, a curiosity I could have done without!
They have been hazardous to my health. Broke my left wrist first at Germersheim some years ago and again in Livorno just last June. Did my first-ever emergency hospital stay in August from the car accident I shared with Bill and Gerlinde.
The years have been mostly wonderful.
Wonderful was doing thousands of miles on the road with John Hoca, Arno Franke and Earl Taylor who became my dearly beloved brothers, far beyond the state of co-workers. Wonderful was getting to know Gerlinde and treasuring her friendship forever. We will spend our last few days in Germany in her company.
Wonderful was making friends from so many countries as I went around on official travel and opened more new stores than I care to remember. As silly as I sometimes think it is, it is nice to know I have Mohamed Enein as a friend on Facebook so we don’t lose touch.
Wonderful was working with and for Mike Dowling, as fine a boss and friend as I could have asked for.
Wonderful is having too many people to say thanks to for making me welcome and at home in this country. It has been a privilege to work and live here and I will cherish it forever. DeCA people are amazing. They are dedicated, energetic, and caring always.
Wonderful is having met William Pulley. A more patient, kind, caring, supportive and loving man I could not have wished for. I hope he will be by my side for a long time and I intend to be a real nag about him kicking the cigarette habit as soon as this stressful transition is over in order to ensure his long life.
Not so wonderful has been an extreme workload loaded with stress. That, coupled with the accidents in 2009, joined forces to make me finally say genug, enough, I am finished. With that I will give you one word of wisdom based on my life.
Work hard, take pride in what you do, always help others, but do not forget to help yourself. Do not sacrifice more of your personal life than is prudent or healthy. If you do, you may end up with bats in your bedroom and a garage full of trash.
Thank you, vielen danke, alles gute, auf wiedersehen.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Friday, February 19, 2010
Too late to turn back now
We were up at 0530 today. Up, but dragging. Each day layers upon the next and we have seven more big days to go. Sleep is brief and fitful--mind kicks in, wakes us up and we start having a case of "what about's..." What about tomorrow? What about the car? What about the food in the fridge? What about protecting all the important papers, keys, passports?
What about bringing all this to an end?
Our feet hurt, our backs, Bill's head cold; our hands have turned to sandpaper.
We swear we will never accumulate so much stuff again.
We pray for no more snow in Germany.
We sighed when we opened the email from one of our house watchers in Blacksburg who sent pictures of the two feet of snow surrounding our new house and of the damage inside the great room from snow on the roof. Not a good winter to own an empty house. Our new floors we wanted done this month while we were not there, will probably not get done now until we after arrive. Road and driveway conditions have delayed it.
My cousin Mike who lives about 3 miles away, took his front loader to the house and cleared the driveway a couple days ago. Thank goodness for family with big toys. Does he have a giant blower that could get the snow off the roof?
We pray for no more snow in Blacksburg.
What about bringing all this to an end?
Our feet hurt, our backs, Bill's head cold; our hands have turned to sandpaper.
We swear we will never accumulate so much stuff again.
We pray for no more snow in Germany.
We sighed when we opened the email from one of our house watchers in Blacksburg who sent pictures of the two feet of snow surrounding our new house and of the damage inside the great room from snow on the roof. Not a good winter to own an empty house. Our new floors we wanted done this month while we were not there, will probably not get done now until we after arrive. Road and driveway conditions have delayed it.
My cousin Mike who lives about 3 miles away, took his front loader to the house and cleared the driveway a couple days ago. Thank goodness for family with big toys. Does he have a giant blower that could get the snow off the roof?
We pray for no more snow in Blacksburg.
Bill's house packed out in two days this week. We were blessed with an excellent crew. Will we be that lucky with my house? We staggered out of his place and returned to mine to get ready for the next pack out round.
Today Bill has gone back to his house to wait for the pickup of the military loaner furniture and appliances he has and to clean the garage. I am at my house doing the same thing. We finished cleaning my washer, dryer and fridge after 11 o'clock last night and quit when we could hardly stand it any more.
Including today, we have three days before the movers come to pack up my whole house. At the end of day one, we move into a hotel. It will be a hard week, but at least the last one for awhile. Friends at work ask if we are having second thoughts or are we ready? It is too late for second thoughts. Moving has a way of making you ready--ready to end this difficult ending and get on to the new beginning.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Friday, 12 Feb...another snowfall
It started snowing again early yesterday morning and isstill doing it at 10 a.m. today. At least it calmed down from the wind. Another eight inches of Ivory Snow flakes have covered my tracks in the drive from yesterday afternoon when I moved my little rental car out of the garage to the front off-street parking to keep from being permanently marooned in the house. Later, I traipsed across the street when I saw the snow plow moving around. Cute snow buster man Johannes agreed to do my drive again today and gave me his phone number so I could call whenever I need him. Those tracks were covered by the time he arrived this morning and scrapped off another layer of this dastardly stuff.
Testing the tiled front porch with one foot while hanging on to the wall, I quickly encountered something like jello on glass and gave up on the thought of sweeping snow away from the entrance. Wading through the piles from the garage to the bottom of the steps, I was able to shovel a little path from where Johannes left off to the brick stoop and clear the snow from the steps which are sort of a pebble aggregate surface not as slick as the tile. I cleared the porch as far as the broom could reach without me stepping off the aggregate. A treacherous patch of about three feet still sports a half inch of snow offering great risk to all who walk there. With my history of accidents over the last year, I refuse to venture on to it. I take a piece of cardboard and write in big letters "Geht nicht!! Glatt Eis! Vorsicht!!" and place it at the bottom of the steps. I have no more streusalz (combo of sand and salt for the sidewalks). Neither does Germany!
Upstairs, my balcony is a foot-deep drift created by a funnel cloud of wind and snow between two bordering roofs. It reaches all the way back to the deep-set wall of glass lining my upstairs hallway. I've never seen this happen. When the temperature finally gets above freezing, this melting knoll will drip into my art room below for a month unless I can somehow get it off. Under it lies another of the slippery white tile surfaces so I am not inclined to tackle it. Even the dreaded cleaning of my huge closet seems like a more attractive task.
Bill works in his house and I work in mine. We call each other to commiserate. About the safe room lock that won't lock until taken apart twice. About having no idea where the compiled folder of the tax papers I put aside for safe keeping actually is. About cabin fever. About eating the six leftover manicotti tubes for dinner last night with no stuffing in them just to get them gone. About being in withdrawal because I have totally run out of Pepsi.
We think we are being punished for leaving. Snow after snow complicates the moving process needed to get out of Germany. At our new home in Blacksburg, the flooring men can't get up the hill to our house to do the floor change we wanted done before we arrived. There is no escaping it.
Testing the tiled front porch with one foot while hanging on to the wall, I quickly encountered something like jello on glass and gave up on the thought of sweeping snow away from the entrance. Wading through the piles from the garage to the bottom of the steps, I was able to shovel a little path from where Johannes left off to the brick stoop and clear the snow from the steps which are sort of a pebble aggregate surface not as slick as the tile. I cleared the porch as far as the broom could reach without me stepping off the aggregate. A treacherous patch of about three feet still sports a half inch of snow offering great risk to all who walk there. With my history of accidents over the last year, I refuse to venture on to it. I take a piece of cardboard and write in big letters "Geht nicht!! Glatt Eis! Vorsicht!!" and place it at the bottom of the steps. I have no more streusalz (combo of sand and salt for the sidewalks). Neither does Germany!
Upstairs, my balcony is a foot-deep drift created by a funnel cloud of wind and snow between two bordering roofs. It reaches all the way back to the deep-set wall of glass lining my upstairs hallway. I've never seen this happen. When the temperature finally gets above freezing, this melting knoll will drip into my art room below for a month unless I can somehow get it off. Under it lies another of the slippery white tile surfaces so I am not inclined to tackle it. Even the dreaded cleaning of my huge closet seems like a more attractive task.
Bill works in his house and I work in mine. We call each other to commiserate. About the safe room lock that won't lock until taken apart twice. About having no idea where the compiled folder of the tax papers I put aside for safe keeping actually is. About cabin fever. About eating the six leftover manicotti tubes for dinner last night with no stuffing in them just to get them gone. About being in withdrawal because I have totally run out of Pepsi.
We think we are being punished for leaving. Snow after snow complicates the moving process needed to get out of Germany. At our new home in Blacksburg, the flooring men can't get up the hill to our house to do the floor change we wanted done before we arrived. There is no escaping it.
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