A little over a year ago, we moved to New Albany. It's an affluent suburb of Columbus, OH. We sold our little Vicorian-era duplex downtown and moved to be 1.7 miles from Bryan's office. The house we're renting is set on 17 acres--our driveway is 1/3 of a mile through the woods, with a large hay field that our management company bales twice a year to maintain the farmland tax benefit. The girls love it when the baler comes--it scoops up the hay and "poops out" bales, as they say. Giggles ensue.
Bordered on two sides by a meandering creek, the neighbors are hidden by thick woods. We occasionally hear gunshots during hunting season, but rarely see anyone. Last summer the girls decided to take off their clothes while playing outside with the hose while I showered. I came out in a towel to check on them and then dropped it for a round of "naked girls playing outside!!!!!" with them. Don't worry, I did a quick mental calculation and made sure I wasn't expecting any FedEx package deliveries first. Delivery drivers are generally the only strangers we see at the house.
So in addition to the naked family, we have deer, wild turkeys, red foxes and an assortment of less-desirable wildlife (possums, raccoons, skunks) here in the woods. We fill the bird feeder during home school lessons and watch the red-headed woodpecker preferentially pick out the sunflower seeds, brushing the rest to the ground with his beak. We take nature walks in our backyard and get lost.
All this pastoral bliss (well water, no gas service, no cable) is to be found 2 miles from "downtown" New Albany with its two grocery stores, burgeoning fast food joints (we just got a Chipotle a month ago), nice library and drug store. Our tiny post office is full of mildly charming Federal workers. Our Urgent Care is rarely busy.
The house is 8 miles from Easton--one of the premier "Lifestyle Centers" in the country--a mixed-use indoor/outdoor retail complex with adjacent big box retailers. So while I breakfast watching the deer graze in the field, I can swing by Target 15 minutes later. It makes for a pretty easy life.
But when I got to toddler story time at our library, I noticed all the moms have Louis Vuitton bags. My outlet store Coach purse seemed so "yesterday." The toddlers were wearing genuine Uggs. I don't even bother with knockoffs! We have everything so well laid out here--the dance school is 1.3 miles from the house. Ice skating lessons are at Easton 8 miles away. Gymnastics, soccer, swim lessons--all my "outside socialization" and physical education needs to supplement the home schooling are met conveniently and easily.
But do I want my girls wearing Uggs before they're out of the Barbie infatuation phase?
I see how it would be so easy to stay. I'd continue to home school. We'd meet some local kids, the girls would make friends, I'd make friends with their moms. We'd join Girl Scouts for a year and then I'd volunteer to take over a troop. I'd sell cookies, ferry the girls around and have a wonderfully full life. But someday I'd look back and wonder, "What would have happened if we'd jumped at the chance to move overseas?
So no, my girls won't wear the Uggs. I want just a little more for them than the ease of a comfortable, suburban American life. Or so I think right now. Check in again in six months, I'll post an update!
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Can You Keep a Secret?--Me Neither.
Okay, I feel like I deserve some sort of significant award for keeping "the adventure" from my family this weekend. Granted, it was only a 26-hour visit that was centered around the kids, but I'm chalking it up in the win category anyway. Ya gotta take 'em when you can get 'em....
I've read that women can't keep secrets and I'm certainly not the exception--unless it's a big one. Infidelity, yeah, that one I kept. Surprise party plans? Yeah, those I keep. Heck, I even know who broke my sister's tub (and have known for upwards of five years), but I keep that under wraps as I was sworn to secrecy. But little secrets, well, those are killers. So hard to not blab, those little nuggets of gossip....
Bryan wants to keep the secret for a while longer in case a great job comes through--in which case this will be one of the shortest never-read-by-anyone blogs in history. It would be really irresponsible to throw away a good job in this economy, if he's offered one. Personal desires to expand our horizons be damned, for a solid paycheck at a company we can be proud of where he could learn some new things and work with great people, yeah, we'd stay. But in the meantime, we're planning to leave in about three and a half months.
I have told a few friends that I trust and who, frankly, are unlikely to share it with anyone who would be in a position to hire Bryan. It feels good to share and talk things through. I'm an extrovert in that sense--communicating things helps me process them. I'm a talker. I'm a typer--I know I post a lot on Facebook, more than most, but it helps me and is a support/sounding board when I want one.
So my Christmas present will come late. I assume that we'll "out ourselves" in January when we start liquidating our assets in earnest. Today I drove five huge plastic bins of stuff to the Goodwill drop-off. Yesterday I sent a friend home with give giant trash bags of toys and kids' clothes. Word's gonna get out, but not from me. Not just yet.
Sorta.
I've read that women can't keep secrets and I'm certainly not the exception--unless it's a big one. Infidelity, yeah, that one I kept. Surprise party plans? Yeah, those I keep. Heck, I even know who broke my sister's tub (and have known for upwards of five years), but I keep that under wraps as I was sworn to secrecy. But little secrets, well, those are killers. So hard to not blab, those little nuggets of gossip....
Bryan wants to keep the secret for a while longer in case a great job comes through--in which case this will be one of the shortest never-read-by-anyone blogs in history. It would be really irresponsible to throw away a good job in this economy, if he's offered one. Personal desires to expand our horizons be damned, for a solid paycheck at a company we can be proud of where he could learn some new things and work with great people, yeah, we'd stay. But in the meantime, we're planning to leave in about three and a half months.
I have told a few friends that I trust and who, frankly, are unlikely to share it with anyone who would be in a position to hire Bryan. It feels good to share and talk things through. I'm an extrovert in that sense--communicating things helps me process them. I'm a talker. I'm a typer--I know I post a lot on Facebook, more than most, but it helps me and is a support/sounding board when I want one.
So my Christmas present will come late. I assume that we'll "out ourselves" in January when we start liquidating our assets in earnest. Today I drove five huge plastic bins of stuff to the Goodwill drop-off. Yesterday I sent a friend home with give giant trash bags of toys and kids' clothes. Word's gonna get out, but not from me. Not just yet.
Sorta.
Friday, December 9, 2011
Why Do I Own a Salad Spinner?--On Purging the Junk in Our Lives
Bryan and I have always been minimalists. We both grew up in standard midwestern U.S. homes in the 1970's and 1980's. That means the houses were cluttered full of decorations and mementoes of cherished events. Sorry, Mom and Dad, but that's what it was! It was a lovely way to grow up, surrounded by happy memories. But as adults, we both feel more comfortable in decidely spartan rooms. I like having a few things on the wall, but there are no framed photos on coffee tables in our house. We don't collect anything other than spices. We idolize function.
When we got married, a friend from England decided to come for the ceremony and asked what he could bring us. I told him to bring us "something English and functional." When he arrived with a set of six crystal wine glasses, I teased him about forgetting the "functional" part. He laughed at me. "They're for wine, Anne," he said. "Use them." "I suppose that if we break one, it will be an excuse to take a trip to England," I replied. So we used them. Thirteen years later, we still have five of them and use them a lot.
I don't want to get all "life is to short to not use the good China" on you. But I need to, so bear with me. I have always hated the idea of having a useful item that is unused. I don't understand why you would buy a centerpiece for the dinner table and never light the candle. I don't get the concept of "don't touch the guest room towels!" I will never give a gift unless I assume the person will use and enjoy it. So wear the perfume, drink from the crystal and wipe your hands on the pretty towels!
Now, on to the salad spinner. As we contemplate this move, we need to go through every single one of our belongings and put it into one of three categories: bring, store or pitch. We have discussed bringing only what we can get into two large rolling suitcases and four carryons. So the "Bring" group is going to be the smallest, most well-thought out set of clothes and personal items known to humankind.
The "Store" group is the trickiest. If we do this trip as planned, we will be gone for at least a year, perhaps two. Take a look at the things in your bedroom through those eyes. What do you have that you will still want in two years? A better question is: What do you have that you will truly need in two years? The answer, for us, is "not a whole helluva lot."
Whatever we store, we will store in clear plastic bins in my mother's basement. I feel the need to make this intrusion as small as possible. So things like books (which we have never really collected anyway) really need to be minimized. Photo albums, mementoes, files and records all have to stay, of course, but things like our CD collection (when everything's already been uploaded into Itunes) and most of our clothes need to go. These days I walk around my house seeing invisible tags on everything. Ebay, Craigslist, Sell to Friends, Garage Sale, Store at Mom's, Bring to France, Sell to Bookstore.... Everything has a label, in my head. The interesting part will be discussing Bryan's labels for the same item.
The "Pitch" group is easier, but more painful. The human instinct is to become a pack-rat. We bought all this stuff, brought it home and now it's ours. Why should we part with it? Someday, somewhere, there will be a use for it, right?
Which brings me to the salad spinner. I bought it a few years ago at Crate and Barrel for $20 or $25. It's a plastic bowl with a colander inside that spins when you push a button. You throw in cleaned lettuce, spin it and voila--you have a beautiful, dry salad. Somehow I felt the need to answer the age old, "How do I get this lettuce dry without shaking it?" question with a $20 piece of plastic. I'ved used it twice. I'll probably sell it for $5 at a garage sale. Not a great return on my investment.
But that's the wrong mindset for this type of activity. I can't see my belongings in terms of what I paid for them and the value I got from them any longer. Now they are just problems to be solved. I need to get rid of them and any money I make or friends I make happy by giving them away, well, that's just gravy.
Anybody want an electric corkscrew?
When we got married, a friend from England decided to come for the ceremony and asked what he could bring us. I told him to bring us "something English and functional." When he arrived with a set of six crystal wine glasses, I teased him about forgetting the "functional" part. He laughed at me. "They're for wine, Anne," he said. "Use them." "I suppose that if we break one, it will be an excuse to take a trip to England," I replied. So we used them. Thirteen years later, we still have five of them and use them a lot.
I don't want to get all "life is to short to not use the good China" on you. But I need to, so bear with me. I have always hated the idea of having a useful item that is unused. I don't understand why you would buy a centerpiece for the dinner table and never light the candle. I don't get the concept of "don't touch the guest room towels!" I will never give a gift unless I assume the person will use and enjoy it. So wear the perfume, drink from the crystal and wipe your hands on the pretty towels!
Now, on to the salad spinner. As we contemplate this move, we need to go through every single one of our belongings and put it into one of three categories: bring, store or pitch. We have discussed bringing only what we can get into two large rolling suitcases and four carryons. So the "Bring" group is going to be the smallest, most well-thought out set of clothes and personal items known to humankind.
The "Store" group is the trickiest. If we do this trip as planned, we will be gone for at least a year, perhaps two. Take a look at the things in your bedroom through those eyes. What do you have that you will still want in two years? A better question is: What do you have that you will truly need in two years? The answer, for us, is "not a whole helluva lot."
Whatever we store, we will store in clear plastic bins in my mother's basement. I feel the need to make this intrusion as small as possible. So things like books (which we have never really collected anyway) really need to be minimized. Photo albums, mementoes, files and records all have to stay, of course, but things like our CD collection (when everything's already been uploaded into Itunes) and most of our clothes need to go. These days I walk around my house seeing invisible tags on everything. Ebay, Craigslist, Sell to Friends, Garage Sale, Store at Mom's, Bring to France, Sell to Bookstore.... Everything has a label, in my head. The interesting part will be discussing Bryan's labels for the same item.
The "Pitch" group is easier, but more painful. The human instinct is to become a pack-rat. We bought all this stuff, brought it home and now it's ours. Why should we part with it? Someday, somewhere, there will be a use for it, right?
Which brings me to the salad spinner. I bought it a few years ago at Crate and Barrel for $20 or $25. It's a plastic bowl with a colander inside that spins when you push a button. You throw in cleaned lettuce, spin it and voila--you have a beautiful, dry salad. Somehow I felt the need to answer the age old, "How do I get this lettuce dry without shaking it?" question with a $20 piece of plastic. I'ved used it twice. I'll probably sell it for $5 at a garage sale. Not a great return on my investment.
But that's the wrong mindset for this type of activity. I can't see my belongings in terms of what I paid for them and the value I got from them any longer. Now they are just problems to be solved. I need to get rid of them and any money I make or friends I make happy by giving them away, well, that's just gravy.
Anybody want an electric corkscrew?
Hurts So... Good?--Getting Shots for International Travel
We went to the travel clinic to get our shots the other day. I figured we'd each need about four or five things, but it turns out that you really only need worry about Hepatitis and Typhoid if you're going to Asia. Yellow Fever and the like are concerns in South America and Africa--two places we're not really considering for this trip.
Olivia, at age six, is incredibly articulate and intelligent (but what Mom DOESN'T say and think that about her kid, sorry!), so we have to talk in code about anything involving needles. I got the nurse to use the term innoculation and we eventually settled on one Typhoid shot per child for now. Unfortunately, she caught on and got upset. She crawled in Bryan's lap and started to cry, confusing Helena and alerting her that something bad was coming.
When the time came, I took Olivia in with me. She got progressively more upset as it came time for me to get my shot. Eventually she was standing rigidly in the corner of the room, refusing to touch me and starting to breathe in crying gasps. My shot was easy--it felt like someone dully pinching my bicep. As soon as I was done, Olivia started full-on screaming. I was forced to hold her on my lap, pinning her arms down and using a wrestling arm-lock to keep her from kicking. The shot was done, but all three of us (Olivia, the nurse and I) were tearful. I felt like a wrung out wash cloth.
We got Olivia calmed down and rewarded with a sticker and two suckers. Then we went out into the lobby where Bryan was waiting with Helena. She actually grabbed the door frame to avoid being pulled into the exam room! Yikes. Just when I had Olivia calmed down, she heard Helena crying in the exam room (we were in the lobby by then). Olivia threw her hands over her ears and started crying, red-faced, again. Which made me cry, again, of course.... Ah, the glory of parenthood.
Strangely, these Typhoid shots are good for two years for the girls, but since Bryan and I can take the pills, our immunity is good for five years. There is a bizarre protocol for taking the pills. There are four pills and you have to take them on a truly empty stomach with as little water as possible and no food. You can't eat for two hours before and one hour after. The nurse suggested we take them if we get up in the middle of the night. We do that a lot, so it was easy. Here's the confusing part--you take one pill every other day. So it takes 7 days. We started on the Wednesday/Thursday overnight at 2am. Then we had to do another Friday night/Saturday morning in the middle of the night, etc. They gave us a sticker to put on our bathroom mirror to help remind us. The main side effect is nausea, so I was glad we got to sleep through it.
Alarming note: the shots and pills are only good for two and five years, respectively. If I hadn't gone, Bryan would have thought that we were good with this set forever. You sort of figure shots are shots and once you've had them, other than a Tetanus shot every 10 years, you're good to go. Not so. I'm now feeling like I need to have a clear understanding of what innoculations we'll need and on what schedule. I want to get our medical records and future needs in one location, all written down neatly and clearly so anyone can understand it.
Yeah, I'll get right on that, uh, someday soon.
And today I get to take the girls for their first round of Hepatitis A. Great. I know it will be worth it someday soon, but for now, I'd rather take 10 shots a day for a month than have to pin Olivia's arms down against her side yet again. But, adventures come with the good and the bad, right? So let's get the bad over with so we can be on to the good soon.
Olivia, at age six, is incredibly articulate and intelligent (but what Mom DOESN'T say and think that about her kid, sorry!), so we have to talk in code about anything involving needles. I got the nurse to use the term innoculation and we eventually settled on one Typhoid shot per child for now. Unfortunately, she caught on and got upset. She crawled in Bryan's lap and started to cry, confusing Helena and alerting her that something bad was coming.
When the time came, I took Olivia in with me. She got progressively more upset as it came time for me to get my shot. Eventually she was standing rigidly in the corner of the room, refusing to touch me and starting to breathe in crying gasps. My shot was easy--it felt like someone dully pinching my bicep. As soon as I was done, Olivia started full-on screaming. I was forced to hold her on my lap, pinning her arms down and using a wrestling arm-lock to keep her from kicking. The shot was done, but all three of us (Olivia, the nurse and I) were tearful. I felt like a wrung out wash cloth.
We got Olivia calmed down and rewarded with a sticker and two suckers. Then we went out into the lobby where Bryan was waiting with Helena. She actually grabbed the door frame to avoid being pulled into the exam room! Yikes. Just when I had Olivia calmed down, she heard Helena crying in the exam room (we were in the lobby by then). Olivia threw her hands over her ears and started crying, red-faced, again. Which made me cry, again, of course.... Ah, the glory of parenthood.
Strangely, these Typhoid shots are good for two years for the girls, but since Bryan and I can take the pills, our immunity is good for five years. There is a bizarre protocol for taking the pills. There are four pills and you have to take them on a truly empty stomach with as little water as possible and no food. You can't eat for two hours before and one hour after. The nurse suggested we take them if we get up in the middle of the night. We do that a lot, so it was easy. Here's the confusing part--you take one pill every other day. So it takes 7 days. We started on the Wednesday/Thursday overnight at 2am. Then we had to do another Friday night/Saturday morning in the middle of the night, etc. They gave us a sticker to put on our bathroom mirror to help remind us. The main side effect is nausea, so I was glad we got to sleep through it.
Alarming note: the shots and pills are only good for two and five years, respectively. If I hadn't gone, Bryan would have thought that we were good with this set forever. You sort of figure shots are shots and once you've had them, other than a Tetanus shot every 10 years, you're good to go. Not so. I'm now feeling like I need to have a clear understanding of what innoculations we'll need and on what schedule. I want to get our medical records and future needs in one location, all written down neatly and clearly so anyone can understand it.
Yeah, I'll get right on that, uh, someday soon.
And today I get to take the girls for their first round of Hepatitis A. Great. I know it will be worth it someday soon, but for now, I'd rather take 10 shots a day for a month than have to pin Olivia's arms down against her side yet again. But, adventures come with the good and the bad, right? So let's get the bad over with so we can be on to the good soon.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Gulp!--We Commit to Moving Overseas
So here's the deal. My husband got laid off/let go/shit-canned (pick your euphemism, I change my mind on the matter daily) six weeks ago. After going through the full stages of denial, bargaining, anger, Starbucks addiction, compulsive exercise, we have both come to a few conclusions:
1. It's not OK to hate your job that much.
2. It's not OK to let said job suck the life out of you.
3. We're young-ish.
4. We're healthy-mostly.
5. We're mobile-esque.
6. We're ready-sorta for a BIG life change.
See, when we met, we always said that Somebody gets to have that non-traditional life that we'd like to lead. Somebody lives on a boat and sails the world. Somebody can pack all their possessions into a rucksack and hop on the next train to anywhere. Somebody gets to meet unusual people, eat funky food and have exceptional travel experiences (good and bad). Up until now, that Somebody with a capital 'S' has been an ethereal creature of our imaginations....
"Somebody gets to do it," we said. "Why not me?"
Why not? Well, little things like being able to pay for it, finding the time and managing to do these amazing feats with a family in tow get in the way of us becoming Somebody.
So let's tackle those issues. We're able to pay for it if we dip into our retirement fund. Certainly in this economy (read: 2011 pre-election quasi-depression) there's no better idea than to rob your future to pay for a pipe dream present! Uh, oops, well, let's just skip that one for now.
How do we carve out the time from our careers? The question is, "How can we do something exceptional involving travel and not lose our job?" Well, seeing as I "retired" 5 years ago to stay home with our kids and Bryan's job just "lost" him, we're good to go. We sold our house last March and are renting a house on a month-to-month basis. I home school, so leaving teachers isn't an issue.
The last concern is about toting the family all over the world/God's Green Acre/Hell's Half Acre (Hell always gets the shaft in those images, doesn't it?). Ah, that one we'll conquer just by doing it. Humans can accomplish amazing things when they put their minds to the task. Particularly (and this is important, go grab a highlighter and run it across these lines on your computer monitor) WHEN YOU DON'T KNOW HOW HARD IT WILL BE!
So we're going to take the plunge. Plug our noses and jump in the deep end.
A year (or so) of world travel for a family of four--Mom, Dad, 6-year-old and 5-year-old.
Somebody gets to do it, why not me?
1. It's not OK to hate your job that much.
2. It's not OK to let said job suck the life out of you.
3. We're young-ish.
4. We're healthy-mostly.
5. We're mobile-esque.
6. We're ready-sorta for a BIG life change.
See, when we met, we always said that Somebody gets to have that non-traditional life that we'd like to lead. Somebody lives on a boat and sails the world. Somebody can pack all their possessions into a rucksack and hop on the next train to anywhere. Somebody gets to meet unusual people, eat funky food and have exceptional travel experiences (good and bad). Up until now, that Somebody with a capital 'S' has been an ethereal creature of our imaginations....
"Somebody gets to do it," we said. "Why not me?"
Why not? Well, little things like being able to pay for it, finding the time and managing to do these amazing feats with a family in tow get in the way of us becoming Somebody.
So let's tackle those issues. We're able to pay for it if we dip into our retirement fund. Certainly in this economy (read: 2011 pre-election quasi-depression) there's no better idea than to rob your future to pay for a pipe dream present! Uh, oops, well, let's just skip that one for now.
How do we carve out the time from our careers? The question is, "How can we do something exceptional involving travel and not lose our job?" Well, seeing as I "retired" 5 years ago to stay home with our kids and Bryan's job just "lost" him, we're good to go. We sold our house last March and are renting a house on a month-to-month basis. I home school, so leaving teachers isn't an issue.
The last concern is about toting the family all over the world/God's Green Acre/Hell's Half Acre (Hell always gets the shaft in those images, doesn't it?). Ah, that one we'll conquer just by doing it. Humans can accomplish amazing things when they put their minds to the task. Particularly (and this is important, go grab a highlighter and run it across these lines on your computer monitor) WHEN YOU DON'T KNOW HOW HARD IT WILL BE!
So we're going to take the plunge. Plug our noses and jump in the deep end.
A year (or so) of world travel for a family of four--Mom, Dad, 6-year-old and 5-year-old.
Somebody gets to do it, why not me?
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