Care for a Car?

I don't suppose anyone might be interested in purchasing a fresh-out-of-Europe-scented 2011 VW Jetta diesel? Mark received an unfortunate email from GSO in Recife that our vehicle will not be allowed into the country. At the moment Brazil only accepts diesel fueled trucks or SUVs, not cars. When we were planning the big move months ago, we agonized over vehicular scenarios: take it, sell it, store it? (Eager to return to the land of cycling, we decided to stick with bikes and public transportation in favor of the exercise and saving money- guess that ain't happening) Based on what we thought was timely information, indeed was not. 

Think we are the only ones to make a fateful discovery? Ha! One of Mark's classmates headed to Brazil sold their beloved diesel SUV based on the information that they couldn't ship it there. And I KNOW there's more stories out there! I guess the responses we get all depend on the color of the shirt one is wearing these days. Sadly, all my fantasies of cruising the coast in our dope station wagon with my head hanging out the twelve foot sunroof and sun bathing on the hood have been squashed. But at least it's opened the door to explore my skillz in car sales? Watch out, the car is a dreamer's dream and it's coming our way!

Schlink Update: VA Burb Living

Earlier this morning I read an email my sweet sister Nettie sent. She was inquiring about our general well being seeing as how DC-NOVA-MD shut down yesterday due to Winter Storm Janice (how long have the weather-folk been naming storms, by the way?) It was reassuring to know my family back in CO continue to think of us, let alone think well of us after 3 weeks of intense, toddler and Beasty filled visitations. Perhaps we are a pretty cool family then.

At any rate Nettie, we are coming along just fine, though at a quicker pace than I anticipated. The children started school less than two weeks ago and despite initial days of tears and clinginess, I am doing much better now. I still throw fits every now and then, but Margo and Deets handle my outbursts with grace and understanding. I'm told Margo eats the most food out of anyone in the toddler group, and particularly loves Nilla wafers. Deets sings all the time and loves to build pretend guns, which is a huge surprise considering he used go to great lengths to keep anyone from carrying a tune, and Montessori school doesn't exactly support that sort of play. Overall I think he is very happy with his surroundings.

My time at home has been a menagerie of writing, studying, doing yoga and reacquainting myself with DC. It's not exciting but Portuguese for me starts next month and I suspect I will yearn for more down time very soon. Mark goes to school, rules the grill and has kept our social calendar packed with friends and beer drinking. With hopes of zoning the kids out yesterday, we invited our friends over for popcorn and a movie. Instead, it was the dads who were enchanted by the Disney movie Tangled.  The men were swept away by Flynn Rider and his rowdy bar crew while the children raged around the apartment, rockin' out to their own world of imagination. At the end of the day, Falls Church collected about 6" of snow and witch's tit cold temperatures.

Coming back to a two hour delayed reality this morning, I was faced with getting my children to school without freezing off any major body parts. This is where I have a newfound appreciation for my mom who took us skiing growing up: long underwear, snow pants, boots, jackets, hats, gloves... UGH. How she managed to get us dressed, geared up and ready for the day in any timely manner is beyond me. It took me a full thirty minutes to get everyone into place and squashed into the stroller with extra blankets for the 1 mile walk to school. By the time I finished, my tomato face glistened with sweat and snot which immediately froze once I stepped outside. The only one happy about any of this was Jim.

Our morning pile of wears. Mark is lucky.
He only had to dress himself. But what a good job he did!

Undeterred, I shoved our stroller through inches of untouched, un-shoveled snow. Deets laughed with each jarring bounce; the Beast merely silent because she no longer had a voice nor will to protest her outing. I slid along with Jim dragging us both up and down the hills. Thirty minutes later, we arrived at school and I began to reverse the process. Making an effort to undress them quickly, I instead clogged up the school's hallway. Annoyed parents tried to step around my dog crowding the entrance, the snow-chunked stroller, and my messenger bag that spewed out lunch boxes, shoes, pants, boots, you name it. It humored no one. Except maybe myself, but that was because the harder I tried to undress them efficiently, the more I floundered in my already sweaty, now itchy long johns.

Of course as all fun things come to an end, I walked back out into the bright blue skies and lung searing cold. In an instant could feel the wind seep under the layers and chill my nether regions. Jim and I dashed for home. My normally snow-loving dog only made it halfway home when he flat out refused to walk any further. Civil disobedience at its best, Jim laid down on the snow unable to lift another paw. Not sure of what else to do, I bent over to pick up my 60 pound dog and stuck him in the stroller. As if I ordered the weather forecast, he just stared at me with his "Are you joking?! Thanks for nothing" look. Jim realized though that he had two options as I began to move: 1. get jacked around in a stroller, or 2. walk home as intended. I'm not sure if he gave me the finger on the way but he did jump down and kept his end of the deal.

After coughing up what feels like a black lung and warming up my now hive riddled body (cold weather hives are the weirdest thing I tell you! I'm emailing you a pic shortly) I thought I might take the time to tell you Dear Nettie, that while we are all doing well, we all love and miss the snot out of both of you.

Whosagoodboy?
Jim, unimpressed.

Espresso Machine and Schlinks Reunited

Bidding the movers adieu, I glanced around the apartment and wondered what I was smoking when I organized our air shipment back in November, bound from Romania to Virginia. Aside from cherished kitchen gadgets, car seats and bicycle parts, I realized the rest of what I packed was total overkill: once loved t-shirts full of holes, 25 pairs of socks and a mess of maxi pads. Why I got them in the first place is beyond me, I don’t even use them! But there they were, scattered among giant Tom & Jerry bandaids and a five pound bag of lavender scented epsom salts. And four different colors of cosmetic blush. Seriously, that was what I packed! Huh.

I resolved to unpack my children’s boxes, only to find they had enough clothes and shoes to outfit the Duggar family. I didn’t even bother to take the lids off for fear of a little girl shoe and bathing suit explosion. Mark didn’t pack any clothes at all. He was trying to be considerate of going over the weight allowance and limited his stash to packing his bicycle, trailer and tools, soon to be our only form of transportation. I am starting to worry I will regret our decision to leave the car in storage, especially as I watch the rain pour down in cozy VA. Ah well. You win some and lose some.

SPD->ATL->DCA

The countdown began during the Missouri vs. Oklahoma State Cotton Bowl Championships when my mother-in-law thrusted the pending forecast in my face: the Polar Vortex would likely change our travel plans. With home leave coming to an end in Springfield, we still needed to conquer 2 flights before landing in Virginia for language training. United Airlines, true to their low-level standards, they cancelled our flight and kept Mark on hold for several hours before getting disconnected due to phone-line overload. They stopped taking phone calls altogether. In the end it was Delta that took us under their wing and tentatively booked us for the following afternoon.

Waiting. And waiting some more.

Mark sure knows how to play his cards right. After getting our family on the standby list for an already four hour delayed flight, Mark predictably started chatting up fellow travelers. He spoke openly about our last two months of transit, his job, and his obvious adoration of his children. It just so happened that the couple he spoke with were Platinum Elite members with Delta who promptly walked up to the desk and requested we take their place in the standby list. It if weren’t for their generosity, we’d have missed the flight, but the best part was everyone ended up getting on the plane when Mark geniously suggested we give up Margo’s seat and put her in my lap. She howled like a banshee for most of the trip, but it was worth it. I think.

Landing in Atlanta, all other flights were delayed so it seemed we might actually make our connecting flight! Until we sat on the runway for 2 hours. The airlines were reinforcing an 8 hour work limit for all employees which meant no one could move. Seeing the terminal from our tiny windows was a little bit cruel, especially when we lurched forward, only to circle back and wait. I felt the blood slowly stagnate in my ass, feeling the loss of circulation creep down my legs as I stared at Margo who finally passed out in my lap. I didn’t dare move.

Thanks to record cold temperatures, the world’s largest airport could not function properly: the madness continued in the terminal with massive cancellations, leaving people confused, cold and stranded. Luckily we re booked the last leg of our journey for the following day but were left to our own devices to procure a hotel. Delta apparently gave away all their vouchers. 250 bucks and 8 hours later, all four of us rallied from downtown Atlanta back to the airport.

Deets literally begging for a nap.

Finally boarding onto the DC bound plane, we thought for sure people would be champing at the bit get going. Like slugs in molasses on a cold Tuesday morning, the passengers painstakingly took their seats but I particularly enjoyed the 82 year old woman in my row. She made cat noises at a gentleman who blatantly ignored the already stressed out flight crew as he repeatedly shoved his over sized carry-on into the overhead compartment. “Amatueur,” she said. When commenting about the cold she quipped: “These people think they know what cold is?! Ha! In Wichita, these temperatures are downright balmy. They need to buck up and deal with it.” Since my own best friend lives in Williston, ND with routine temperatures of -20 F, I’m inclined to agree with her. But I couldn’t stop my own teeth from chattering as I longed for warmer days.

Margo NOT screaming!

I don’t know how Mark did it, but the children slept the whole way. Finally, we landed in DC and proceeded to baggage claim to pick up most of our suitcases. In the end, Mark’s clothes didn’t make it out of Atlanta which is half funny since our Romania-Virginia air shipment did not contain but a single pair of pants of Mark’s. It might be my fault since I panicked about going overweight when we moved out of our house in Romania, he packed the majority of his clothes in the boxes that would arrive in Brazil (Nov 2014). Subsequently, he’s been wearing the same clothes for the past three days. Good thing he has a wife who’s already experienced that and could offer up fashion tips.