My parents took my family to Hawaii in February. My sister, Amy, passed away in February so we are trying to make new memories instead of that sadness. This was a great trip and I have a lot of pictures I guess I could share but I really want someone else to do that because it seems like it is a lot of work. I will say that this was my favorite place:
Every day I would walk to the beach hut, pay for some lounge chairs and show the well-tanned caddy, who must not own a shirt, where to put the thing. I would just walk over there and be like, "you know the drill. Oh, and throw in a paddle board so I can watch these fools try to get on it." Then I would sit and try to read. Every day. I didn't read much because I am a people watcher and I was constantly interrupted because everyone wanted me to play with them. I think they forget that I am not that fun to play with. I just look like I could be fun.
Anyway, after coming home from the tropical island it was time to prepare for our next military move. I am sad to leave my friends here. We have been in Ohio for 5 years (3 years in Columbus and 2 years in Dayton). However, I am not sorry to say goodbye to "my tomb" also known as my tiny base house. Seriously, I don't understand the "tiny house" craze. This box has stripped me of my ability to entertain, has stolen my husband and made him a miserable ogre as he completed his thesis, and then took all my neighbors away after the tornado came through. The sun doesn't live in Ohio either so add a vitamin D deficiency to the mix and you might understand my harsh review on this state of affairs.
San Antonio, Texas seems to be where the Lord wants us next. He has obviously heard my cries and sent me somewhere equivalent to hell - in temperature and humidity, at least. The houses are a lot bigger too so I know that He is making sure to counter balance all my complaints about Ohio. So Texas - I went there by myself last weekend to find a house for us to move in. It is really tough to move your kids when the school year is almost over. Unlike when you move in the summer, you have to be ready to hit the ground running on getting them into school and transferred over. It has been on my mind quite a bit.
So I took a flight to this Lone Star State and tried to be very frugal - staying at a La Quinta Motel, getting a cheap rental car, and only eating twice a day. (Honestly, I really wasn't hungry). Anyway, when I reserved my motel room I requested a king sized bed. I figured that I didn't have my kids or Jeremy with me - this would be a great opportunity to live it up a little.
As I got into my room, I noticed that the bed was low to the ground. Weird, I thought. Then I went in the bathroom and saw that there was no tub - it had a walk in shower with a chair... and then there was a handicapped parking spot right out in front of my door.
Lightbulb - I am in a handicapped room. Oh man! I am not sure how to feel about this. It was late so I just went to bed and carried on with the trip.
I went to look at houses the next day and found one that I liked but there were still more to see so I went out again on Saturday and found the most amazing house. I was so excited about it. My realtor convinced me to look at other houses just in case I didn't get that one, so I looked at a few more but by then I couldn't keep them straight and I knew what I wanted. I prayed about it and felt like the Lord said that either house (the one I liked on Friday or the one I loved on Saturday) would be fine. So I decided to sit on it and go check out the wards (church units) to see which one I liked best. Either one was fine. They have so many youth. One ward had 60 and the other had 40. My current ward in Ohio has maybe 16. I think my kids might be able to find a friend here - maybe...
So I just kept thinking about it.
Saturday night back at the La Quinta, I am lounging in my low-rider king sized bed when suddenly a party strikes up in the room next to me. It is one of those adjoining rooms where we have a door that we can both open. Now I love a good party, but this one was more like a drunken bachelor rave with music, banging on the walls, a guy screaming as if he was being tortured (later yelling, "OMG that was the worst wedgie I've ever had." with some expletives added in there.) Since that didn't seem to be slowing down as the night progressed I decided to request a room change. I knew I couldn't sleep like that. I walked to the front desk and requested a new room, which they were happy to give me until they realized that they didn't have any more handicapped rooms available. I assured them that I was able to take any room as long as it was away from that craziness. She handed me the keys to my new room and I grabbed my stuff to transfer it over. As I walked into the room, I was disappointed to find 2 full size beds at full height. They also had removed the fridge and microwave from the room. The shower was a normal tub with just one shower head (am I in America or have I somehow transferred to a 3rd world country). And there were no extra power outlets next to the bed. As I looked around I came to realize that I was at a disadvantage in being an able-bodied person. Where is my big bed? I don't have anywhere to put my leftover food, and am I really going to have to step over the tub rail to get in the shower? Dang that wedgie guy. I want my room back.
Finally, it was late Sunday night. I was thinking through my options and decided to move forward with applying for the house I loved. I filled out the application which requested everything - including my life history as well as a picture of our cat. Not sure if the urine sample comes later...
First thing Monday morning I called the rental company with my chipper, "Hey, I just applied for this house I love and..." which was met with, "Lady, we had 6 people submit rental applications for this house over the weekend. It is first come, first served."
I wanted to cry. What had I done? I think I was the first one to see it on Saturday and then I just sat on it. I was so sad. I had to call Jeremy and tell him that I didn't apply soon enough so we didn't get it.
I really felt like the Lord told me that I could have either one and that it would be okay. I was so bummed. Our next step was to apply for the Friday house that I liked. I submitted the application for that and then had to begin my travels home. This gave me ample time to think about my foolishness. As if air travel wasn't bad enough.
As I was waiting to leave San Antonio I got an email from the house I loved. They said that they were reviewing my application. I didn't understand because I had to be at least the 6th person to apply. It wasn't even 12 hours ago that I had finished. I responded to her asking for clarification;
her emailed response said the magic words - "we take the first *complete* application."
Huh. I guess the other people forgot to send a picture of their cat.
So this is my new address starting in April: https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/12114-Carson-Cv-San-Antonio-TX-78253/83980310_zpid/
I had a layover in Atlanta and found myself walking around in the basement, as usual. I noticed a guy who looked confused and - being the happy helper I am - asked what was wrong. He looked frazzled and said, "How do I get out of here?" Without even a pause, I told him, "Just go up." He was so grateful - called me sweetie, and walked away. But as I walked away, I realized that I wasn't where I thought I was. He needed to go upstairs but not until one more terminal north. I immediately turned around to try to find him but I couldn't. He could still be wandering around the basement of the Atlanta airport. This still haunts me.
As my husband points out, this story is so typical me - wanting to help others but usually being wrong. Consider yourself warned.
Whew! That was a roller coaster of a weekend.
I was anxious to get back to Ohio, though. We only have a month left and I have a lot of great friends here and a whole month of fun plans. One of those things is a daily routine of going to the gym with my friend, Claire. She is amazing and has been teaching me all her gym moves. She can do at least double the weight of everything I do, but it used to be that she could do 3 times more than me, so I am improving. I want you to know that I can bench press 45 pounds. This might sound extraordinary if you haven't frequented the gym in a while, but I will tell you it is only the bar without any weights. I am pretty happy about it, though.
I can also do bicep curls with 15 pound weights. For those of you who work out, this might cause some raised eyebrows - it is impressive I know, but please hold your applause. My most humbling move, though, is this thing we do where you put a bar across your hips and raise your hips up as high as you can. Until recently, I would have to have her place the bar on my hips and then come get it off me because I couldn't lift it myself. These are proud moments for me but I am trying something new and getting stronger each day.
So that was my February. I'm pretty happy it is over, though. What is going on in your life?
