tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71023259198760064472024-03-14T02:25:20.009+05:30Noble Glomads: Passing through IndiaLife abroad for a diplomatic family.Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.comBlogger110125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-80974823613346980322021-05-19T10:40:00.000+05:302021-05-19T11:45:48.566+05:30The Reluctant Housewife<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I got my first job when I was 14. I didn't really like it but I was earning money, something my parents didn't hand out to us kids. I loved the freedom of earning and spending my own money. But, more than that, I enjoyed the sense of satisfaction it gave me of doing a job well and someone actaully rewarding me for doing that job well. <br />
I was lucky enough to have jobs that I enjoyed. While they didn't always pay well, I was resourceful enough and energetic enough to work a second job to earn extra money. Back then, I didn't have a husband or children yet so I had some free time and I saw no reason not to fill that free time by working. My dad did a good job of instilling a strong work ethic in me as well as the need for a good credit rating so working and succeeding was very important. Having been the first person in my family to graduate from college, a lot was expected of me.<br />
I got my first break right out of college. The company that I had interned for hired me full time with benefits, an expense account and loads of responsibility. I loved it. Working was not always fun but it was important to me. Fast forward a few years and I'm married to a great guy, have two amazing kids and a good job at a respected newspaper. Then, my husband gets promoted. This is usually a good thing for families. My husband reached the top of his profession, he was finally the Publisher. Sadly, this meant that I would no longer be able to work at the same newspaper as we had done for years. He was the boss; nepotism rules knocked me into unemployment. We were now a one income family. While his income was substantially increased, it did not off-set my missing income. No worries. I had babies and they needed me and we made sacrifices to make it work. <br />
That lasted all of one year. Not working left me feeling depressed. I had worked very hard to pay my way through college and a demanding internship to make my family (and myself) proud. I needed to work for my own mental well being. That's not to say that motherhood was not important to me. It was and I stayed home until my youngest was just over a year old. Working half time seemed like a great compromise. I could be all things to all people and still retain some of my own identity. It worked. Then my husband was promoted again and we moved again and I was unemployed again. My kids were in school full time and I had loads of free time on my hands.</div>
Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-86391553548882925092013-10-29T09:49:00.003+05:302021-05-19T11:45:43.786+05:30Fascinated by India<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have been trying to write a follow up blog to my last post two months ago but I honestly don't know how I feel about India. Some days I wake up so angry that I have to live here and sometimes I am truly fascinated to be able to have this experience with my family. <br />
I will never love India. I can say that without hesitation. Apologies to my husband, and his family who all lived here 30 years ago and still have magical memories of the country. Different city, different decade, different experience. This is considered a hardship post by the US Department of State. It is labeled thus for a reason. <br />
I have to bleach my vegetables, take my chances with local meat products, or whatever is on offer at the commissary, and live in a house that I would have been delighted with 20 years ago but now, a three bedroom apartment built roughly 50 years ago just doesn't scream "I've made it". As I write this, my housekeeper, who shows up sporadically since she is always having some kind of crisis, is mopping the floors. I know what you're thinking. Poor me, I have a housekeeper. If I didn't, I'm certain I would have left months ago. Everything needs to be cleaned here every day. It's dirty. I don't know how the dirt gets in but it does. And, now that it's trash burning season, the air is a putrid mix of noxious fumes and dust. The poor people in the slums cannot afford to heat their huts so they burn garbage to keep their children warm at night.<br />
My younger son, Ewan, had his first soccer game the other day and I offered to walk with him to the field at the British School, which is just down the street from our school, and close to the compound. I had never been there and so we set off hoping to find it. We did find it, it is located just past the enormous slum stuck between the two schools. Apparently, the workers who came to Delhi to build the schools put up these make shift homes close by and then just never left. Generations have now lived there. I cannot believe that I had never seen it before. I could certainly smell it but I thought that was just the natural smell of New Delhi. We passed by tiny little boys playing cricket in the filthiest clothes I've ever seen. They seemed happy and even said hello. Amazingly, they didn't ask for money or food. People were coming and going, children were playing and laughing, if I hadn't seen the actual slum, I'd have thought it just an ordinary neighborhood with kids playing on the periphery.<br />
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I do what I can, I know I could do more. I also know what my limits are and there are some days when I wonder if I will make it through this posting intact. I actually wonder if prolonged exposure to a place like this could make you bipolar? I am just not one of those people who is comfortable going out to lunch and spending more for one meal than most of these poor people will earn in a month. I feel guilty but I also like to eat lunch out sometimes so I get angry, then I feel sad. I know I have to carve out a functioning and happy life here for my boys and my husband, and I do. But, I sing a little less, never have impromptu dance parties in the kitchen anymore and drink way too much red wine. I know it will get easier once I wrap my head around the fact that I cannot fix this place. I always thought that I would be one of those people who would change the world or make a huge difference in someone's life. I was spared in Christchurch because I had something really important I had to do on earth. <br />
Coincidentally, today is my anniversary. I've been married to a great man for 19 years and we have two amazing children. I suspect that the lives I am meant to enrich here are theirs. And that, I can do.</div>
Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-2364564025698500322013-08-18T13:36:00.010+05:302021-05-19T11:45:33.848+05:30Finding myself yet losing my soul in India<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Isn't that what everyone hopes for when travelling to India? To "find themselves"? The difference is, I didn't want to come to India. I never even gave it a thought. Ever. I'm not a religious person and I know exactly who I am, I don't need validation. But, the past month has made me question who I am to become. <br />
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Now that we are part of the State Department, we don't really get to choose where we'd like to live. So India was chosen for us. I don't really mind, that's the nature of the job - a lifestyle that we freely chose. So when we were given India, we just went with it. Adrian had lived in India before as an adolescent, so he knew what it was like. Though he lived in a totally different part of India under very different circumstances, he knew what to expect. I, on the other hand, was told what to expect and told accurately. However, when you are told something, you always wonder how much is exaggerated and how much is truth. <br />
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The truth so far about my India in New Delhi, is that it is heartbreaking. Granted, I arrived during Monsoon season so there is mud everywhere and since the antiquated drainage system cannot really handle the deluge, garbage tends to float in the streets. The smell is overwhelming. Nobody uses the public garbage receptacles here. I've witnessed rich and poor alike throwing garbage our their car windows, off the back of motorcycles, etc. It's accepted here. Most people just pretend it isn't there. That seems to be the underlying theme here. If we just pretend it isn't here or isn't happening then our conscience can be clear. After all, we didn't do it.<br />
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I'm not going to tell you about the weather and that there is corruption and the mosquitoes carry more diseases than I knew possible (ones we cannot be vaccinated against). You can find out all of this on Wikepedia. Instead I'm going to tell you about some of the people, and there are lots and lots of people. New Delhi is grossly overpopulated and there is not enough housing or employment for everyone. Some of the more industrious have fashioned homes out of scrap wood and metal along the river banks and alongside strip malls, virtually anywhere they think they can. These slums house hundreds of people. Some have electricity and even cable TV pirated from a nearby utility pole. None have running water. The toilets, as far as I can tell, are anywhere you can get away with. It is not uncommon to see people pissing off the sidewalks. Though I've not yet seen anyone defecating in the streets, I've heard it happens often. The homeless wash their clothing in the public fountains and dry them on median barriers alongside the cows and stray dogs.<br />
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Some of the slum dwellers have jobs and some hawk whatever they can in the streets; peacock feathers, balloons, dishtowels, water guns, flowers. Some simply make an eating motion with their hands and bang on your car windows. Most are children. I don't blame them. I'd do whatever I could to feed my family too. I'd bet that most of these beggars would take an underpaying job in a heartbeat if one was available. They simply are not available.<br />
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In the Muslim neighborhood of Nizamuddin, they seem to have a system of welfare. Rudimentary as it is, it seems to work for them. The poor and infirm line up together along the alleyways and almost every adult male Muslim that I saw dropped a coin in each one's hand. At one corner there seemed to be a meal station for the poor. I was urged to buy a packet of 20 or so tickets for 20 rupees each that I assume are distributed to the hungry homeless huddled around the ovens waiting for the evening meal to be ready. I didn't buy any because at the time I had no idea what they wanted from me and why I would spend money for tickets when I had no idea what they were used for. Next time I will buy some. Sure, some of the beggars will take their ticket I give them and resell it to another beggar for maybe 5 rupees then go buy himself some liquor but it's no different from our own welfare system really except that theirs isn't subsidized by the government.<br />
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We are asked to not engage the beggars. It can only lead to trouble, either for them or us. If one beggar sees another beggar receiving money from us, we would be swarmed and it is not safe. If we are in a car and we hand money out our window, more little children will come to us in the street and run the risk of being run over. So, we are delegated to volunteering for an NGO or other charitable entities like churches, and orphanages, etc. But, you just know that if you give money, someone pockets 95% of it along the way. Very little of it gets to those for whom it's intended. Like the street children who are forced to beg then hand over their earnings to the boss who drops them off in the morning in his Mercedes SUV, leaving the kids with no food and no water all day to beg. I assume he feeds them eventually since none of them look emaciated. Thin to be sure, but somewhat healthy. I guess a sick and starving kid is of no use. <br />
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This is where I have trouble. Every instinct in my body tells me to help, to give. I want to feed and clothe these children when I see them. I know I cannot help them all, but I want to help the ones I can. I feel like a hypocrite sitting in my chauffeur-driven car, heading to a restaurant to drink a $30 glass of champagne then come back to my safe, clean and air conditioned home that someone cleans for me for minimum wage. <br />
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Last night I dreamt that I was being attacked by beggars and I was stuffing 10 rupee notes into their mouths. According to the local government, you are not below the poverty line if you earn more than 33 rupees a day. That's 53 American cents. I guess in my dream I thought I was feeding them.<br />
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I know that there will likely be very little I can do to change India or its people. I won't "fix" anything. I am not a savior. I will spend the next two years pretending, like everyone else, that it is ok to have naked children on the sidewalks and old, sores-covered men sitting on blankets in the alleyways. I will continue to buy my $2 sunglasses off the hustler downtown and feel magnanimous because I just got him above the poverty line single handedly. I will ignore the little girl banging on my car at the stop light and step over the sleeping mangy dog covered in fleas with its ribs poking out. I will take day trips to the Imperial Hotel to feel civilized and spend all of our hardship pay visiting places that gives me glimpses into my former life.</div>
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Can I maintain my dignity here? Can I somehow rationalize my aloofness? Will I observe this country like a journalist, just gathering information and not getting involved? Like those National Geographic documentarians that film the cheetah with the broken jaw and document its suffering as if they are incapable, not just unwilling to do anything to help? Will I be able to look at myself in the mirror every day? Will I continue to have nightmares? I suspect that every time I think of India I will think of that little girl and wonder what has become of her. But tomorrow, if I see her again, I will feed her.</div>
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Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-86415704450892449942013-07-22T08:50:00.006+05:302021-05-19T11:45:41.667+05:30Week one in New Delhi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We've now passed the one week mark. It actually seems like we've been here a lot longer but there you go. The boys and I have been settling in and recovering from our jet lag and are getting to know our new home. Nobody is as eager to explore the city as Morgan has been. Our previously not too social kid has been out almost every day since we've been here thanks to some very friendly girls from our compound that will also be seniors at his new school. <br />
Morgan has been to several Malls which range from high end super structures similar to those in the USA to back alley markets that are really just slums with stuff for sale. I am amazed by him, and proud. While I was initially surprised by Morgan's instant popularity, I am very happy that he has been getting out and experiencing his new home. The girls' parents are usually a bit more cautious with where they can and cannot go but, with the addition of our 6'3" son into the mix, they've been given the keys to the city so to speak. Nowhere is off limits as long as Morgan is in tow. It's funny, the seas of humanity really do part for Morgan when he walks through the markets. Not so much because he is tall but because he is blonde and tall. Nobody hassles him. So, for now, Morgan is content.<br />
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Ewan is another story. Most of the kids his age are back in the USA for the summer holiday. The summers here really are miserable for kids when its too hot to play outside and the Monsoons make everything damp. Lets not even talk about the mosquitos or the diseases they carry. So, Ewan has been socially challenged for the first time in a year. The final indignity is a bad ear infection that has laid him low for the past few days prompting our first emergency doctor call. It's comforting to know that we can receive good health care while here, even on a Sunday. </div>
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While New Delhi is obviously fascinating and full of rich history and culture, I've not yet had the time or inclination to see much of it to be honest. I've seen a lot in my first week here, don't get me wrong. I've been to three markets, a few forts, the City Gates, the big western mall and out to two restaurants off of the compound. So, I haven't been hiding. I just need to ease into India. It kind of smacks you in the face. It is incredibly crowded. It is dirty and yes, it smells. There are people living in highway medians and bathing in puddles. And yes, they really do use the city as an outhouse. </div>
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There don't really seem to be any traffic laws. The roads are well paved at least. The taxi drivers are....well, I'm having a hard time explaining. They get you from point A to point B and lets just leave it at that. I will worry less for Morgan, who has been taking cabs and rickshaws, once we get our car and driver. </div>
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I will try not to sound negative because I know there are good things about living in India and I intend to find them, just not this week.</div>
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Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-85702709196208146412013-02-22T02:36:00.002+05:302013-02-22T02:36:53.879+05:30Remembering Christchurch Two Years Later<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I intended to mark the day by doing something special to remind myself how good life is. I had several ideas all involving spoiling myself. But, then I remembered the 189 who were not so lucky and it seemed a bit shameful to celebrate. <br />
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I've always been a lucky person. I don't win lotteries or raffle drawings but I have a good life, good friends, a great marriage and amazing kids. However, escaping totally unscathed from the earthquake on February 22, 2011 was just plain luck. I don't believe in a higher power and don't think that "God" was watching over me, I was simply in a little pocket of safety in a sea of destruction. I was lucky.<br />
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So today I am not marking the day in any special way except to hug my kids a little longer, tell my husband I love him a little more often and just enjoy this crazy trip that is life. I am grateful that I no longer have hives or nightmares, I don't jump out of my skin when I hear loud noises and I no longer check on geonet.org upon waking. I am even beginning to miss New Zealand a bit. I still don't really ever want to go back but at least I don't feel resentful about having to have to live there for 16 months after the quake. I still keep the newspaper articles from the day after and I still get freaked out about all the people who were killed in places that I had been in just moments before and I feel sad for them and their families. I never really thought "what if", I don't think that's productive, but I do think "Whoa, be grateful Amy" and I am.<br />
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Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-82591562936040643712012-08-19T19:37:00.002+05:302021-05-19T11:25:20.673+05:30Where have I been for 3 months?I can't believe it has been three months since my last blog post. I even had to reset my Google password since I couldn't remember it. Shocking. I've been reading everyone else's blogs, just not writing any. I've been a tad busy and by the time I sit down (when I get to sit down), I'm too exhausted to do anything other than read. <br />
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My boys and I left Wellington in July to start our 10 month sojourn in North Carolina while Daddy learns Hindi at FSI. Having lived in this little "pleasantville" for 9 months just before heading to FSI the first time, the kids loved it, made friends and wanted to return. Since we really didn't want our teenagers in DC schools we made NC our home. Plus, after the Christchurch earthquake, I got a touch of PTSD and bought a house off the Interweb that I had not even been inside. There was a lot of fixing up to do. I vowed to make the house livable while my husband was busting his hump at FSI. <br />
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I was able to sell my nursing cover business to a lady in New Zealand so this house is now my full time job. Thanks Claire, you basically paid to have my whole house decked out with new hard wood floors. Hope you like the business. Anyway, I've never worked so hard in my life. I'm no stranger to manual labor but my body protested most of the first and second week. I lost 5 lbs that first week too! My brother, my 15 year old son, Morgan, myself and 2 movers emptied the 26 ft moving van. It was a job I don't want to repeat any time soon. So now I don't look at it as work, it is my enforced exercise regime. My shoulders are becoming very defined from all of the painting and my legs are getting firm from running up and down the stairs a billion times a day. But, it is worth it. <br />
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Kitchen Before</div>
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I cannot take all the credit. My family helped. My amazing brother showed up even before the water or air conditioning was turned on to help make the house livable enough for me and the boys. He cleaned up and hauled away weeds & debris, built pathways and steps and painted a few of the worst rooms. He sanded all of the cabinetry so we could paint it too.</div>
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My Dad amazed me with his ability to fix ANYTHING!! He helped me disassemble all of the broken and nasty ceiling fans, cleaned them up, replaced a switch here, a motor & light there and voila...new, functional ceiling fans. </div>
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When the flooring guys cut the wrong sized hole for the air conditioning vents...no problem. Dad cut new ones and repositioned the sheet metal. But the big event was installing a new bathroom from scratch. We spent 7 hours at Lowe's the day before. Yes, that's not a typo-we were at Lowe's for 7 hours. The closest Lowe's is 30 miles away so we wanted to get everything we would need to work on the house for an entire week.</div>
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This is what we did in 3 days...amazing!</div>
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We didn't have time to get to Adrian's study. My Dad had to get back to Florida and my brother left with him to attend to his own affairs. That left me and the boys. Yikes. I didn't want my husband to have a heart attack when he finally saw the house for the first time. The moldings all had to be painted, the doors needed scraping and painting....we worked furiously.</div>
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He loved it. After a day or two of jet lag recovery, Adrian jumped right in and we set to work on his study. Now he knows how hard we've all been working.</div>
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Study before</div>
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Everyone pitched in. I even had surprise help from one of Adrian's college buddies and his girlfriend who stopped by to help install trim. I never want to do that again by the way.</div>
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Ewan Painting a new doorway to the balcony.</div>
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Adrian on his second day home, painting his study</div>
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Morgan getting all the high spots.</div>
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Me and Thom putting in the trim</div>
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Jenna cutting the trim-she loved it.</div>
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We will NEVER be finished fixing up this house but it is in good shape and we love it. The new appliances, bathrooms and paint really make a difference. </div>
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The best part is that it is within walking distance to grandma and grandpa and Ewan's buddy lives across the street. There is a bed and breakfast within walking distance and it's just a short stroll to downtown. So, when your car unexpectedly breaks down like it did this weekend, you can still walk your kid to soccer practice.</div>
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We are Home (for 10 months)</div>
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Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-13768726154241578642012-05-16T02:55:00.001+05:302012-05-16T02:55:34.980+05:30Don't let them change you. I've been having a few "poor me" moments lately brought on by an inordinate amount of stress. Ilnesses, divorce (not mine), law suit, house renovation 9000 miles away, pack out, school transfers, etc. I am beginning to think that this high octane stress level is the new norm and will just have to get used to it. Most of it is beyond my control anyway.<br />
This lifestyle comes with a whole new set of little annoyances that you don't consider until you are overseas, and I'm in a first world country. Imagine what it's going to be like when I head to my first third world country! Something as simple as registering a car becomes a week long event involving countless emails, notaries and family members in country. Add to that, the fact that our Embassy here in Wellington doesn't have a notary and it gets even more complicated. How can we NOT have a notary at the United States Embassy? <br />
I admit, I've let it get to me. I threw my hands up in despair and started thinking that I wasn't cut out for this. And then, the doubt crept in. Maybe I wasn't as awesome as I thought I was. Maybe people were talking behind my back, and saying that I wasn't good enough. Maybe I'm not smart enough or witty enough or pretty enough to be a diplomat's wife. I can set a table and cook the right food but what if I cannot hold up my end of a conversation? I even started to question the color of my hair. What if people think that I am trying to be too young by dying my hair? I was freaking out. WHAT WILL PEOPLE THINK??<br />
Then it hit me, or rather, my husband reminded me; it doesn't matter what anyone thinks except him and my boys. They think I am awesome. I don't know when this low self esteem thing started but I am pretty sure it began when we left North Carolina to head up to DC. How it happened doesn't matter. That it happened and. happened to ME, matters. I am uber-confident. I am the person who volunteers to speak in public and I will confront anyone if I feel I am being wronged. It is who I am, er, was. So this new weepy Amy was really getting on my nerves. I tried to blame it on the earthquake but this started way before February 22. Luckily, I have a very supportive husband who reminded me that I have very good instincts and every decision I make is usually the right one. The confidence I oozed was the main thing that attracted him to me. I just forgot. <br />
So, I am getting back to normal. No more seeking advice or confirmation. I am in charge of my own life and how I want to live it. Except for where I live it, or the house I will be living in to live it or the color of the walls of the house I will live in, or the furniture or the schools my children will go to, etc. Except for all of that, I am in charge.Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-23105272098616250042012-04-21T06:10:00.002+05:302012-04-21T06:10:22.906+05:30The thing about street cred...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My husband wrote a funny <a href="http://kiwiscots.blogspot.co.nz/2012/04/i-belong-tae-glasgow-dear-old.html" target="_blank">blog</a> yesterday about being from Glasgow. Apparently, being "from" Glasgow gives you serious street cred. I've only been to Glasgow once and it seemed ok, but apparently, back in the day, it used to be a scary place filled with dangerous street gangs and hooligans. <br />
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Now, my husband is a pretty refined guy on the surface. He is charming, has a wicked accent, devilish good looks and impeccable manners. But, I know another version. I've known him a long time and have seen him in every situation you can imagine and have never doubted his ability to take care of himself. To be honest, I can totally see his 14 year old self running amok through the streets of Glasgow with his mates, smoking cigarettes and throwing beer bottles at the drunks, earning his street cred. <br />
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This got me to thinking, though. What qualifies as street cred? I've lived in some shady places, but none that would be labeled as "gritty" or "dangerous" or even the wrong side of the tracks. Still, I think I am pretty street smart. I spent a large portion of my childhood in a small town 20 miles north of Philadelphia fending for myself. It wasn't totally derelict, but it wasn't as nice as Philly. I had some cousins from New Jersey. Now they had street cred. They actually scared me a little. They were older and would sit with my Dad and tell stories about their teen-age years in Philly and Moorestown (NJ) in the 60's (my Dad was really young when he had me). <br />
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Some of these stories seemed unbelievable. One cousin talked about how annoying it was to live near the Burlington Bristol Bridge. They get "jumpers" you see, and they don't always make it into the water. Ugh. Gross. My Dad once told a story about how on his way to work one morning, he saw a severed arm in the street. He called the police to report it and they asked him if it was a left arm or right arm. Apparently, it does matter. The gangs send messages to their rivals, and a left arm means something totally different from a right arm.<br />
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I've been mugged once. That should give me some street cred. A naked man once asked me for directions when I was walking to my friend's house. I was only 7 or 8. I guess that qualifies my neighborhood as a bit dangerous, thus qualifying for street cred-ness. What do you have to do to get into this club? I was actually suspended from school in the 7th grade for fighting. Snap, that should get me lifetime membership right?<br />
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Now I have these two amazing boys who have never lived anywhere "tough" - unless you count the weather in South Dakota. They've never been harassed by the local druggie, beaten up by the local bully or brought home by the local cops. They've got no street cred. I still think that they would dominate in the Hunger Games, though. If you can get street cred just from "being" from somewhere then it doesn't really count. You have to "live it," baby. <br />Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-53166934183585036792012-03-25T02:27:00.001+05:302012-03-25T02:35:27.317+05:30Random acts of kindnessTo say I've had a tumultuous month would be an understatement. My house renovation bills are escalating. I received a not so nice letter from the IRS. I am trying to organize pack outs, school enrollments with 3 different school curricula for 2 kids and generally feeling a bit overwhelmed. To top it off, the final payment for the house we sold a year ago, didn't come and doesn't seem likely to come for quite some time. Since it's not really my nature to sit around and feel sorry for myself, I just keep trudging along doing what I need to do to get things done. However, there wasn't a lot of joy running through my veins this morning when I hung up the phone with the people who aren't paying us.<br />
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Just then Ewan walked through the front door carrying a package. He spent the night at one of his friends' house. Daniel is a nice kid and his parents seemed pretty cool when we spent a few minutes chatting with them yesterday afternoon. They are actually from Malaysia, but have been in New Zealand for over 20 years. We spoke about our kids, the advantages of living in New Zealand as opposed to Malaysia and we tried to explain our crazy lifestyle to them. We laughed about the idiotic price of seafood in this country since everybody seems to be able to just walk over to the waterfront and pluck it out for free except us! <br />
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I was particularly animated about my outrage at the price of lobster. I mean really, it is shameful what they charge for lobster here. They explained that they charge so much locally because they get so much more for it when it is exported. Well that doesn't remedy the fact that I really like lobster on special occasions. But I refuse to pay $85 dollars for one. We giggled, exchanged pleasantries and said goodbye wishing that we had met them sooner because they seemed like really nice people. <br />
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So, back to Ewan and that mysterious package. You guessed it, it contained a fresh New Zealand lobster. I was gobsmacked. In that one instant two virtual strangers turned my ridiculously dismal morning into a bright shining moment that will be one of my best memories of New Zealand. <br />
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Thank you Jeffrey and Evelyn. You'll do.Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-30403567267105507872012-03-06T12:52:00.000+05:302012-03-06T12:52:11.749+05:30No, of course I'm not mad at you. Whatever. So I had to take Ewan to the doctor this morning. Yes, that doctor who wouldn't give me anti freak out medication after the earthquake. He's really a great doctor when it comes to determining what is wrong with you and he is very thorough. He explains everything and makes sure you leave with a clear understanding of what is wrong with you. I actually believe that he is one of the best doctors that I've been to. <br />
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This morning, after he diagnosed my son and prescribed physical therapy and a few blood tests he asked me if I was mad at him over the way he dealt with me after the earthquake. I thought about it and really wanted to say yes, I was a bit mad, but it has been a year. I am fine now and probably won't ever see him again so, I said no. I told him I wasn't mad, my ideas just differed from his. I am not a doctor but I am a grown up and I know my own body. I knew I needed more help than he was giving me but I was in a country where toughing it out is a badge of honor. How could I admit that I wasn't as strong? I wanted to be strong and prove that Americans are just as tough as Kiwis. We are brave and resourceful, we don't need drugs or therapy, we won our independence didn't we? I am a warrior. <br />
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He seemed relieved and asked me if I didn't feel better knowing I was able to heal myself without the aid of drugs? Actually, no. I didn't feel better doing it myself. It reminded me of when I lived in South Dakota and was in the process of giving birth to Ewan. My doctor and I discussed the pain relief options and I wanted an epidural. But, on delivery day she was trying to convince me that I didn't need it. I could do it naturally. Women have been having babies since the dawn of time without medication. I thought she was insane. I stood my ground and asked for the epidural. After 16 hours of labor, I was glad I insisted. What is this ridiculous need for people to show how tough they are? <br />
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So, no. I take it back. I was a bit mad and I am disappointed in myself for letting someone else dictate how I am supposed to feel instead of standing up for myself and demanding to be heard. Yes, I am proud of myself for being strong and making it through a tough situation but I regret that I was made to feel that asking for help was somehow wrong. I usually do a better job of standing up for myself.Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-41576488555480791122012-03-04T04:28:00.000+05:302012-03-04T04:28:58.054+05:30American kids with a bit of Kiwi I have American kids. I am very proud of my family's history and though our geneaology before hitting America in the 1740's is sketchy, my side of the family have deep roots in the USA. So, when I married and immigrant (gasp) straight off the boat, it was a bit of a shock. Of course, since he was Scottish, he was immediately welcomed into the family. The Scots are their favorite foreigners. Now that he is an Americn citizen, our little family is 100% American. Or so I thought.<br />
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</div>I took Morgan to an athletic tournament this week and laughed when I realized he's becoming just a wee bit Kiwi. He can master the Maori accent and has adopted the rough and tumble no worries attitude. He is giant compared to the rest of my side of the family standing 6'2" and weighing in at 175lbs at 15. His Rugby coach says he'll be a legend this season before we head back to the USA. He liked that. He chose Rugby again over soccer this season and can now even play Cricket, which will benefit him when we move to Inida next year. <br />
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I am not sure if my kids see it as a benefit just yet but having the opportunity to immerse yourself into a culture for 2 years is an amazing gift. You get a full understanding of the culture and have enough time to explore the different areas knowing that you are still an American with all of the advantages that come with being American. You always know in the back of your mind that if it doesn't work out or if you don't like it, you can always go home. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">One year later running the Wellington Marathon at 14.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yDhvWS5TV_k/T1KhraDH9RI/AAAAAAAABCc/Rk4v1l4v4Ek/s1600/morgan+marathon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yDhvWS5TV_k/T1KhraDH9RI/AAAAAAAABCc/Rk4v1l4v4Ek/s320/morgan+marathon.jpg" uda="true" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">In Morgan's case, he has thrived here. He went from a skinny 13 year old kid to a mature and solid 15 year old young man. Not only has he grown 5 inches but he has gained almost 60 lbs. And, it's not just the physical changes. He has mellowed. He has become interesting in a grown up kind of way. He is not cocky or boastful but sure of himself and confident. He never disrespects us or challenges our authority and even seems to enjoy our company most of the time which delights me. I am waiting for the day that I all of the sudden become a tiresome idiot who cannot be seen with him in public. </div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Ewan too has changed but in more subtle ways. He hasn't had the massive growth spurt yet that Morgan has but it's coming. Hopefully he will hit it when we are back in the USA where the groceries are a bit cheaper :) Ewan is still very much an American child but has dived head first into the Kiwi Sports scene. There isn't a sport that he's not willing to try. He has made the travelling soccer team again this year but decided not to join the school team since most of the games will be played just after we leave. That's a bit disappointing especially since the team will be going to Australia this year to compete. This year however, his classmates are going on a week long camp into the Waitomo Caves, he asked to skip it. Not quite as adventurous as Morgan but I'm not sure I'd be keen on it either. Can you imagine 80 American 12 year old boys on a week long camp into caves? I'd hate to see the liability waiver on that one. They do this every year for every grade. It's amazing. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rydiscqN0BQ/T1Kdtv3yIDI/AAAAAAAABCM/XxI6c23rXCE/s1600/IMG00350-20110702-1213.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rydiscqN0BQ/T1Kdtv3yIDI/AAAAAAAABCM/XxI6c23rXCE/s320/IMG00350-20110702-1213.jpg" uda="true" width="320" /></a>Yes, my all American boys have a sprinkling of Scots and touch of Costa Rican and Kiwi but their roots run deep and the knowledge and experiences they gain on this incredible journey will only make them better Americans.</div>Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-66045946736780127112012-02-22T01:57:00.002+05:302012-02-22T02:21:27.921+05:30One year later - the 5th stage.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KkuOoPlRhIU/TWV_9NqZCtI/AAAAAAAAAtg/F0zAX807W_k/s1600/Dust+after+quake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" lda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KkuOoPlRhIU/TWV_9NqZCtI/AAAAAAAAAtg/F0zAX807W_k/s320/Dust+after+quake.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> I thought about doing a very in depth blog for the one year anniversary of the Christchurch earthquake but I am pretty sure my husband will have that covered in his blog <a href="http://kiwiscots.blogspot.com/">http://kiwiscots.blogspot.com/</a>. Being a former journalist, he is into the details and facts. My blog is essentially written for my family and the 3 other people that read it and believe me, they know every detail of that day.<br />
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I was sitting at home last night feeling a bit sorry for myself. My husband is back in Christchurch for the anniversary with our Ambassador. I was watching the interviews and reports of the quake and reliving the hours I was there. When I was running through those streets, I remember bricks and debris falling and I remember stepping over them or running away from them as they rolled toward me, but to be honest, I didn't realize how devastating it was in other areas of the city as well, I was just moving and dodging. It wasn't until I got back to Wellington and saw the news footage that I realized just how devastating it was and how lucky my husband and I were. A lot has happened since then and though it still makes me sad to watch the footage, I am no longer anxious and depressed about the earthquake and I am beginning to feel differently about it.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">So, today I will focus on the many positives in my life. I am clearly approaching the 5th stage of grief</div><br />
I am lucky. Not just because of that day but because I have a great life. I have a great marriage and I have unbelievable children. I have all of this because I am a very strong and capable woman. My husband and I enjoy one of the best marriages on the planet not because of luck but because we are both decent people and have the skills to respectfully communicate with each other and share this life together. Plus, he's really hot.<br />
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I have two outgoing, respectful, smart and talented children who will still cuddle up to me and tell me about their day and how much they love me.<br />
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I just bought a beautiful old house that I really love and hope to make into my forever dream home. <br />
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I live a varied and interesting life with the opportunity to go anywhere in the world where there is an embassy.<br />
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I have been able to collect a handful of really great friends, I know Jennifer would drop everything without hesitation or explanation if I needed her. <br />
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I still have my two grandmothers! Peg brings me so much joy, all I have to do is hear her voice on the other end of the phone and I know I am going to smile today.<br />
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My Dad and his wife are always there to listen. He knows better than to give me advice about emotional stuff but if I start talking about mechanics or fixing something, we can talk for hours. It calms me, I think he knows this. <br />
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I have been lucky enough to have married into a unbelievable family. They couldn't be more different than me but they accept me. I think they even love me sometimes:) They are kind and smart and beautiful and best of all, fiercely loyal.<br />
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So, yeah. I am not going to mourn today. I am happy to be alive and happy that I still get to wake up every morning to these beautiful people in my life and make them laugh, make them cry, make them shake their heads and sometimes just wonder ;)<br />
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Naturally I have been questioning how the earthquake affected me personally and if it has made me stronger or has somehow made me weak. I don't know yet but what I do know is that many of the folks that were in Christchurch but don't live there are still a part of this. They seem to be the forgotten ones. Somehow they don't count and are not entitled to mourn or be depressed. They are told to get over it whenever there is a shake here and hide under their desks. One friend of mine was told she should seek counseling because surely she should be over it by now, it has been a year after all. Perhaps some of us cannot get over it becuase nobody aknowledges that we were there, and afraid and in danger. <br />
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If you run into a survivor today that looks sad or scared or just a bit shell shocked, how about giving them a pat on the back or a hug and tell them how glad you are that they are still here and if they need to talk, you'd be happy to listen. Belittling them and minimizing their experience down there is incredibly damaging. Watch the footage on TV, it brings it into perspective. Remember, you weren't there and you have no idea the raw fear that many of us felt. It did matter, it still does and always will.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lYIIUF2IvOQ/T0P1fBfJdWI/AAAAAAAABBk/pgzBqnDojzg/s1600/cone+flower" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" lda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lYIIUF2IvOQ/T0P1fBfJdWI/AAAAAAAABBk/pgzBqnDojzg/s320/cone+flower" width="213" /></a></div> Now, me and my girls are off to put flowers in traffic cones as and act of solidarity with the Cantabrians. I don't know who came up with the idea but if I had to bet money on it, I'd say Adrian had something to do with it. He is obsessed with cones.Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-49534533288770809862012-02-18T03:02:00.002+05:302012-02-18T03:02:52.897+05:30Good house porn<div style="text-align: center;">I found this site by accident and now I am totally addicted. If you are decorating, planning to decorate or just dreaming about one day having a house to decorate...this is the site to go to. <br />
<a href="http://www.houzz.com/">http://www.houzz.com/</a> </div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.houzz.com/photos/264616/Kitchen-traditional-kitchen-minneapolis"><img alt="Kitchen traditional kitchen" border="0" height="362" src="http://st.houzz.com/simages/264616_0_8-2455-traditional-kitchen.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><div style="color: #444444;"><small><a href="http://www.houzz.com/photos/traditional/kitchen" style="color: #444444; text-decoration: none;">traditional kitchen design</a> by <a href="http://www.houzz.com/professionals/architect/minneapolis" style="color: #444444; text-decoration: none;">minneapolis architect</a> <a href="http://www.houzz.com/pro/charlieandco/charlie-simmons-charlie-co-design-ltd" style="color: #444444; text-decoration: none;">Charlie Simmons - Charlie & Co. Design, Ltd.</a></small></div><div style="color: #444444;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #444444; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black;">It appears that my new old house has some issues in the kitchen. Since we were planning on redoing it sometime in the future anyway we were not too upset to learn that "later" is now. This is perfect. I hope I can afford a scaled down version of it. The armoire on the right houses the refrigerator. </span></div>Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-76228053051720452402012-02-13T07:26:00.006+05:302021-05-19T11:44:27.025+05:30It takes a lot to piss me off. My husband and I joke that I am the Golden Retriever of the human race. I am usually happy, wake up with my tail wagging ready to face each new day optimistically. If I get cut off in traffic I give the offending driver the benefit of the doubt "he probably has a sick kid in his car and it on his way to the emergency room", I often tell my kids as way of explanation. If someone talks about me behind my back I tend to forgive thinking they must be having a bad day or just need to vent and don't mean anything by it. So, when I am actually mad about something, I feel totally justified in expressing my outrage.<br />
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This week I had a meeting with my 3rd RMO since last year's devastating earthquake in Christchurch. It was bad, I got freaked out and sought help (I'd like to clarify that I was at the epicenter of the quake standing in the center of downtown staring at the Christchurch Cathedral as it fell on the cars parked in front of it). I was brushed off. When I had to go to my Dr. here in NZ to treat the all over body rash I developed shortly after due to my extreme anxiety caused by subsequent mini quakes here in Wellington he told me to take antihistamine and gave me prednisone. I asked for valium, he said no. Too addictive. Ok. I get stuck in downtown Christchurch with buildings falling down around me and I get antihistamine. Do you know how prednisone interacts with an already freaked out woman? Ask my kids. <br />
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It always seems backward to me that doctors always want to treat the symptoms of an illness and not the actual cause. My rash was caused by the insane amount of adrenaline being pumped through my body and my body was trying to fix it by jacking my immune system into high gear. So, I understand the necessity of the prednisone and antihistamine but the underlying issue of the adrenaline being pumped through my body on an hourly basis went unchecked. I was still nervous and scared ALL THE TIME in the weeks after the quake. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vZJHlA21WTo/TzhpCERqWHI/AAAAAAAABBc/NDkVmQIvWkY/s1600/welly+quakes.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" sda="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vZJHlA21WTo/TzhpCERqWHI/AAAAAAAABBc/NDkVmQIvWkY/s320/welly+quakes.png" width="290" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">This represents the latest 30 quakes in NZ from February 2, 2012 until today. They range from 2.3 to 5.7 on the Richter scale. Just so you don't think I'm exaggerating.</div><br />
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So, I asked the regional RMO to help me out. She said I should be taking anti anxiety pills until the rash is under control and I stop freaking out whenever the neighbor takes his wheelie bin to the curb (sounds kind of like an earthquake). Great, I will just take my email from her to the local doc and surely he will write me a prescription. Nope. Too addictive, he told me to try drinking some wine before bedtime it will help you relax. I did take his advice and started drinking a wine. Lots and lots of wine. It helped in the moment but my liver was not happy. <br />
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A few months went by and my rash finally started going away and things were getting back to normal when we had another quake in June. Back to square one. RMO number 2 came to the Embassy and told me I really should be on anti anxiety medicine and she would mail me a prescription. What? It's that easy? Why didn't the other RMO simply do that 6 months ago? Whatever, I was happy with that except the prescription never came. Apparently I was supposed to remind her that she was going to send me a prescription. Ok, 'cause that sounds logical when you are dealing with a stressed out patient. Now I've got to do her job too? The earthquakes continue in NZ and we have a nice new crack in our ceiling to prove it but I am over freaking out and just pack an emergency kit, leave the house and hope for the best. <br />
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Then, the Embassy sent my husband back to Christchurch. This I did not like. Let's not even mention that they have had thousands of aftershocks since last February and a big one over Christmas that brought down more rubble. Nobody died so I guess they figured it was ok to send embassy staff back for another Codel. Adrian was totally ok with that, I wasn't. He's much braver than me. So, off I went to shoot an email to the original RMO again to let her know my rash is back and what does she recommend I do about it? A month later I received a small vial filled with 10 pills for "emergencies". Whatever. My time of crisis is over and the pills remain sealed in the bottle. Let me emphasize that I am not interested in being medicated 24 hours a day. I like being silly and impulsive and having a clear head. I was simply looking for something to calm me down (instantly) in case another big one hit and I needed to calm down. In the days after February 22, 2011 I remember wishing that someone would just put me in an induced coma for a few days, just so I could get some peace. I was so upset and nervous that I would have rather been unconscious. <br />
Last week we had yet a new RMO come and I was ready this time. I prepared a power point presentation for her to let her know how I really felt so she could see exactly where I was coming from and how that day affected me. I was beginning to think that everyone thought I was just standing outside during the quake, felt the ground rumble and then was airlifted out. That was not how it went down. <a href="http://nobleglomads.blogspot.co.nz/p/kia-kaha-christchurch.html" target="_blank">This is how the day went for me.</a> I was beginning to think that all these doctors were looking at me like I was some out of control junkie that was using the earthquake to get some kind of fix. As if I didn't really deserve valium or xanax or some other calming medicine because that was reserved for people who were in really bad situations and <strong>deserved </strong>to be streesed out. It made me doubt myself. I always thought of myself as a strong person - everyone does. Now I was no longer sure. These are professional doctors denying me, it must be me right? So I showed her my presentation. The system is broken sister and here's why....I thought it was a very good presentation and I left with a new prescription for antihistamines! No wonder there are so many alcoholics in this business (or so I'm told, I haven't met any yet). Luckily I am not so fearful and even enjoy NZ most days though I'd never live here permanently and am looking forward to our new post in India. But I am thinking that to be a part of this business you have to look after yourself. Nobody is going to hold your hand and make sure you get the help you need. I didn't even know I was eligible for medivac back to the States just after the quake until 8 months after. A nice quake break would have been helpful. Someone really should have told me that was an option. <br />
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So yeah, I took a power point presentation to my shrink after receiving help 352 days after my crisis. I'm such a drama queen.Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-29280096346365196212011-12-29T05:51:00.002+05:302011-12-29T05:51:33.527+05:30The Brother in Law has arrivedAnd, he brought Christmas Cake. Obviously he did not read my last post. Foiled again.Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-85140489988376352312011-12-12T05:49:00.001+05:302011-12-12T11:10:18.261+05:30Summer Break in December & Leaving post early For the past couple of weeks I have been trying to get into the Christmas spirit. I have two kids who love Christmas and I always try to adhere to family traditions and make it special for them. Admittedly, I always look to my mother in law to really keep the traditions going but since she's not here it is up to me. So I will keep all but one of the family's Holiday traditions. No cake!<br />
One good thing about being so far away from the Scottish side of the family is that I don't have to serve Christmas Cake. I'm not exactly sure what it is made out of, we've never actually eaten it but it resembles fruit cake. After dinner we drench it in brandy and light it on fire then oh and ah over it and pretend to be excited about eating it. So, even though we will have Adrian's brother and partner over for the Holidays, I am putting my foot down and not serving cake.<br />
It is funny though to decorate the Christmas tree while singing carols that include snow, roasting chestnuts, sledding, etc. We were all sweating by the time our tree was done. <br />
It is also summer break for the boys. They don't go back to school until February! We have plenty of adventures planned for after the holidays but none of them involve sledding, skiing or building snow men. So, while most of our family will be keeping warm by their fires back in the USA, we will be on a gorgeous beach enjoying our last summer break in New Zealand.<br />
We are beginning to realize that our time here is coming to an end and while we are looking forward to going back to the USA for a bit, the boys seem almost sad to leave here. We've had a few (5) earthquakes this past week, one sent me running from the Embassy while another sent all of us running from the house resulting in Adrian and I having a serious conversation about the boys and I possibly leaving early. When I asked the boys how they felt about that they looked at me in horror. They didn't want to leave early, they really like it here and don't share our fears of earthquakes (another reason to be grateful that they weren't in Christchurch with us during last Spring's deadly quake). So, basically it is up to me to try to decide if we ( I ) can be brave enough to finish the whole tour. No pressure.Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-40546531181417829472011-10-30T03:39:00.000+05:302011-10-30T03:39:11.268+05:30And the verdict is...Genius<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y6784GYHu_8/Tqx5ZGFUrlI/AAAAAAAAA6Q/hz7YfQ5VLsM/s1600/Amy%2527s+house.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ida="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y6784GYHu_8/Tqx5ZGFUrlI/AAAAAAAAA6Q/hz7YfQ5VLsM/s320/Amy%2527s+house.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I just got back from another whirlwind trip to the USA to inspect my new old house. It is exactly what I expected and what I was hoping for. It needs work but not too much. The major working parts are functioning and aside from a few nonlevel floors, it is perfect. I love it.<br />
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I met with contractors, picked out appliances, tile, flooring, and paint, signed a bunch of checks to leave with my father in law and am now happily home in NZ waiting for the work to begin. Project number one is to take down some old rotten trees that are dangerously close to falling on the house. The tree guy that I hired suspiciously doubled the price as soon as I left town....not a great beginning.<br />
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I hope my father in law is honing his negotiating skills or my newly acquired geniusness will be in jeopardy.Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-53825271566117896982011-10-02T03:05:00.002+05:302011-10-02T03:52:59.245+05:30Ahem, scratch that, reverse it. We bought a house.Well, exactly 6 days after blogging about how happy I was to NOT own a house, I bought a house. Off the Internet. Without ever seeing the inside of it. The crazier thing is....I've done this before. <br />
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It is hard to believe, especially since my college roommates used to accuse me of being middle aged when I was 19. I never did anything "crazy" or unplanned. I analyzed everything to death or thought about things for weeks on end before making a decision. I would start searching online for airline tickets months before a vacation just to be sure I didn't miss a good deal. I subscribed to consumer reports as a teenager. I had to compare every price, option, amenity, feature. I NEEDED to know that the decision I made was the best option. It was frustrating to be me. There were times I drove myself crazy.<br />
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Then I met my husband. I'm not sure that he has ever planned anything in his life. He is very spontaneous and loves adventure, bargains be damned. We were engaged after knowing each other 4 months and married just one year after our first date. I still managed to over analyze every big purchase and career decision, but then I started to see the benefits of his way. <br />
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Flash forward to 2005. Whilst on vacation is Costa Rica, we bought a house near a lake with the most beautiful view we had ever seen. The realtor didn't have the key and we never went inside. We bought it anyway. It was fantastic. We gutted it and made it ours and enjoyed it until our move to NZ. It turned out ok, right? Sadly we had to sell it since it was too risky to own a house in a foreign country that still had squatter's rights.<br />
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Now that we were truly homeless (government-provided housing in NZ excluded) we got the itch to own something. We needed a home base, just for our mental well being. Yeah, it's probably not the wisest financial decision, but we rarely make decisions based on money, so we decided to jump back into home ownership. If you've read my previous post, you know that my house hunting trip tot he USA back in July didn't work out. I dragged my poor Realtor, Jeff Miller of Remax, to every house in our price range in Polk County, NC. That poor man. I knew what I wanted and was not going to settle for anything less than exactly what I wanted for exactly what I could afford. So, I fell in love with a totally inappropriate 2 bedroom cottage that was over priced by roughly $100,000. We contemplated buying it anyway, but in the end it just too stupid. <br />
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Defeated, I went to my friend Kristen's house to complain about the housing market and let our boys hang out. Kristen has two boys who Ewan adores. They hung out often when we lived in Tryon. As I was bitching, I asked her what was up with the house across the street. This magnificent house had been under renovations since I'd been visiting Tryon - roughly 15 years! The owners would do a bit of work, rent it out, do a bit more work and then nothing. This seemed to go on forever. The house just was not getting finished. I had wanted to buy it 3 years ago when the last tenant moved out and serious renovations started. A new roof was put on, new windows installed, the beginnings of a nice kitchen. I would walk past it when I took Ewan to play with Sam and wonder why they just didn't sell it and give someone else the chance to bring it back to its former glory. <br />
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The house was built in 1885 and sat majestically on a hill overlooking the foothills. In the 126 years since, a neighborhood has grown around it and blocked most of the view, but it still sits on a slight hill overlooking a quaint tree-lined street. There is one of those old timey stone walls in the front, the kind that you wonder how they ever stayed put with no concrete or mortar to hold the stones in place. I told Kristen many times that if that house ever went on the market, I'd buy it instantly. And that's just what I did.<br />
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A few weeks after I returned to NZ, my favorite house in Tryon, NC, went on the market. Unbelievable. The only drawback was that I found out at 4pm on Friday and bids on the house were due by noon on Monday; and I was on the other side of the world with a major time difference. It was impossible to arrange for inspectors to check it out. My only hope was that my in-laws would be able to walk through it and tell me if it were a lost cause.<br />
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Well, the inside needed work. It had been vacant for a while and renovations had been started but not finished. The power was turned off and there was no running water, but the structure looked solid. It had 2 working fireplaces and all of the bedrooms were finished. New roof, new windows, and no termites. We decided to gamble. Since it was in foreclosure and bank owned, we had only two working days to get our ducks in a row. We had to somehow come up with 10% cash to put down and prove that we could come up with the remaining $$ within 10 days. Let's just say I called in a lot of favors that weekend, even calling my financial planner at home on a Sunday! Miraculously, she answered and offered to help us any way she could. (Raymond James of Landrum, SC-if anyone is looking)<br />
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Thank goodness I have a scanner, VOIP, fax and plenty of computer ink here. I didn't get much sleep in those four days, since I had to make my calls when the east coast was awake (midnight to 2pm) but it was worth it. We managed to squeak by with the winning bid. My dream house is mine!!! I only hope the inside is as beautiful as the outside. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yAZgP0IiEHg/ToeC22tqoqI/AAAAAAAAA4k/NwQA42UMJA4/s1600/21+broad+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kca="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yAZgP0IiEHg/ToeC22tqoqI/AAAAAAAAA4k/NwQA42UMJA4/s1600/21+broad+8.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> My new, old house.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kmgg6GFX0Rw/ToeC693Qd6I/AAAAAAAAA4o/wok1dz6Mkgc/s1600/21+broad+9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kca="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kmgg6GFX0Rw/ToeC693Qd6I/AAAAAAAAA4o/wok1dz6Mkgc/s1600/21+broad+9.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Cute stone wall with stairs leading to front door.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QtR2PnNcWVA/ToeDF3gl5wI/AAAAAAAAA4s/pzaTdlwbCW0/s1600/21+broad+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kca="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QtR2PnNcWVA/ToeDF3gl5wI/AAAAAAAAA4s/pzaTdlwbCW0/s1600/21+broad+7.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Almost finished kitchen with granite counters. mmmmmm.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Juckk54JX1o/ToeDJ92N5KI/AAAAAAAAA4w/TetYFHKpOYk/s1600/21+broad+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kca="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Juckk54JX1o/ToeDJ92N5KI/AAAAAAAAA4w/TetYFHKpOYk/s1600/21+broad+6.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I LOVE pocket doors. These lead from the formal dining room to the living room. Cool right?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YULHZuK1sy4/ToeDUpmuiUI/AAAAAAAAA40/TQE_VYrU7wM/s1600/21+broadway+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kca="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YULHZuK1sy4/ToeDUpmuiUI/AAAAAAAAA40/TQE_VYrU7wM/s1600/21+broadway+2.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Foyer</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">So, I am either a lucky girl or the biggest idiot in the world, but I bought a 126-year-old abandoned house off the Internet without looking at it - and paid cash. Please stay tuned for an update. I head to NC mid-October to see it and have it inspected!! Wish me luck.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div>Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-44177835098372292992011-08-19T03:22:00.001+05:302021-05-19T15:44:33.524+05:30Happily Homeless My youngest and I went on a house hunting trip back in the States. He had a 3 weeks break from school and I had high hopes of finding my dream home at a bargain price. So off we headed to the in-laws for two weeks of warm weather and high hopes.<br />
To say my in-laws house is spectacular would be an understatement. They probably have one of the most magnificent homes I've ever been in not because it is a million dollar mansion or high tech heaven but because it is stately and tasteful. Spacious yet comfortable. It is old for US standards, having been built in the 1800's. Their 13 or so acres of land on the top of a small mountain in NC used to be a vineyard with gently sloping terraces that have been transformed into beautiful English Gardens surrounding a simple, elegant, farmhouse that has been transformed into quite a nice place to call home. My family and I were lucky enough to live there for 9 months while waiting on the PD register. It has been my in-laws vacation home for the past 14 years but after it was loaned out to us and they didn't have access to it on a regular basis, they realized how much they enjoyed it and decided to make it their full time home.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Kgt-fqAqaLw/Tk2GeBm9e_I/AAAAAAAAA4A/Rp6rp-eXioM/s1600/IMG_0697.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" qaa="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Kgt-fqAqaLw/Tk2GeBm9e_I/AAAAAAAAA4A/Rp6rp-eXioM/s320/IMG_0697.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> The new patio and fireplace<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bohuiXa-cdc/Tk2GfJKNVlI/AAAAAAAAA4E/LZ77y5VaubY/s1600/IMG_0700.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" qaa="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bohuiXa-cdc/Tk2GfJKNVlI/AAAAAAAAA4E/LZ77y5VaubY/s320/IMG_0700.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> Ahh, the pool<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5OPbWaaVyHI/Tk2GgMMzXpI/AAAAAAAAA4I/wb1i_mVIB38/s1600/IMG_0702.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" qaa="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5OPbWaaVyHI/Tk2GgMMzXpI/AAAAAAAAA4I/wb1i_mVIB38/s320/IMG_0702.JPG" width="240" /></a></div> Porch, and yes, it wraps around<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hvQMKrCvPaI/Tk2GhAyCHLI/AAAAAAAAA4M/27gNNXVPzGg/s1600/IMG_0707.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" qaa="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hvQMKrCvPaI/Tk2GhAyCHLI/AAAAAAAAA4M/27gNNXVPzGg/s320/IMG_0707.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kc9Hy2ZovQ4/Tk2GiIA3iGI/AAAAAAAAA4Q/X36-znm6g68/s1600/IMG_0709.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" qaa="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kc9Hy2ZovQ4/Tk2GiIA3iGI/AAAAAAAAA4Q/X36-znm6g68/s320/IMG_0709.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xpgSH_gLBg8/Tk2GjeQID_I/AAAAAAAAA4U/O9n_ps-PkcY/s1600/IMG_0711.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" qaa="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xpgSH_gLBg8/Tk2GjeQID_I/AAAAAAAAA4U/O9n_ps-PkcY/s320/IMG_0711.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hIbcGVIHqfI/Tk2GkfcCmhI/AAAAAAAAA4Y/Jpc4FH_LzPo/s1600/IMG_0712.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" qaa="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hIbcGVIHqfI/Tk2GkfcCmhI/AAAAAAAAA4Y/Jpc4FH_LzPo/s320/IMG_0712.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> My father in law enjoying a cigar<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vW0IH-KyouA/Tk2Glm4r-II/AAAAAAAAA4c/-mgeePXWTJo/s1600/IMG_0716.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" qaa="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vW0IH-KyouA/Tk2Glm4r-II/AAAAAAAAA4c/-mgeePXWTJo/s320/IMG_0716.JPG" width="240" /></a></div> My handsome brother in law, Jamie, who flew down from NYC just to see us<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-90Mhafd25R0/Tk2GmtUSABI/AAAAAAAAA4g/sTZ3rWAhCgQ/s1600/IMG_0718.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" qaa="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-90Mhafd25R0/Tk2GmtUSABI/AAAAAAAAA4g/sTZ3rWAhCgQ/s320/IMG_0718.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The spoiled king of the castle, Boris with Ewan in the background</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Changes have been made, patios created, bedrooms enlarged, windows updated.....full kitchen renovation, the works. It is perfect. So, when it came time to house hunt in the same town, I hated everything. Nothing measured up and I came home empty handed. I fell in love with one house that I would be happy with but the owners were not clued into the fact that the USA is in a recession and house prices are dropping. They are asking well over the appraised value and 20% higher than others in the neighborhood. I hope it sits there for a year with no offers and they lower the price.<br />
For now I will have to be content with my government housing in New Zealand (hey, we all have to make sacrifices) and give up on the USA house idea for now. It's probably a good idea since we don't know yet where our next posting will be and may not be able to live back in the States for quite some time. I will have to also hope that my in-laws enjoy having us as house guests because that was the best "resort" I've ever stayed at even if the help was a bit uppity (those were my father in laws words when describing himself as host).<br />
Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-49131896873490315582011-06-16T08:17:00.000+05:302011-06-16T08:17:52.253+05:30Phew, no gold in sight.It was a good day. The furniture is better than what I had and way better than none :) Thankfully I didn't get the gold furniture. The majority of the upholstered stuff is brown. I'm ok with brown. The only thing I will complain about is the amount of furniture we received. We have way more than our house can hold but are required to receive all of it so the overflow is taking up the entire guest room.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--2KTi354YSo/Tfltw6pXK-I/AAAAAAAAA0A/jOeAJXnVI4M/s1600/IMG_0082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i$="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--2KTi354YSo/Tfltw6pXK-I/AAAAAAAAA0A/jOeAJXnVI4M/s320/IMG_0082.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Way better than the pink southwestern couches</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FmxJu3o8i2M/Tfltx8CciEI/AAAAAAAAA0E/Lw5cHPYSOhY/s1600/IMG_0083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FmxJu3o8i2M/Tfltx8CciEI/AAAAAAAAA0E/Lw5cHPYSOhY/s320/IMG_0083.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-39px0dPzPuw/Tflty4mCIDI/AAAAAAAAA0I/2MgcYBZekfA/s1600/IMG_0085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-39px0dPzPuw/Tflty4mCIDI/AAAAAAAAA0I/2MgcYBZekfA/s320/IMG_0085.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Yeah, this is the new one!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-04uCI9uP16w/Tflt0TSrZEI/AAAAAAAAA0M/u4C0VQc2GiQ/s1600/IMG_0086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-04uCI9uP16w/Tflt0TSrZEI/AAAAAAAAA0M/u4C0VQc2GiQ/s320/IMG_0086.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Looks better in person.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Tgk79nWxR1Y/Tflt2pBirrI/AAAAAAAAA0U/PEDCHeEAOXk/s1600/IMG_0088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i$="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Tgk79nWxR1Y/Tflt2pBirrI/AAAAAAAAA0U/PEDCHeEAOXk/s320/IMG_0088.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bbdtK9Cv_Gc/Tflt3Ta1Q3I/AAAAAAAAA0Y/EQZJGXf1hCQ/s1600/IMG_0089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bbdtK9Cv_Gc/Tflt3Ta1Q3I/AAAAAAAAA0Y/EQZJGXf1hCQ/s320/IMG_0089.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gcbr3lWrB7Y/Tflt4stNdwI/AAAAAAAAA0c/8tMGYNAmJSE/s1600/IMG_0091.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i$="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gcbr3lWrB7Y/Tflt4stNdwI/AAAAAAAAA0c/8tMGYNAmJSE/s320/IMG_0091.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sqsur83arYc/Tflt5aD5WWI/AAAAAAAAA0g/FcXK9nQzFHo/s1600/IMG_0092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i$="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sqsur83arYc/Tflt5aD5WWI/AAAAAAAAA0g/FcXK9nQzFHo/s320/IMG_0092.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3KfepB6fsYc/Tflt6iDPOAI/AAAAAAAAA0k/yVFtfn84gWs/s1600/IMG_0093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3KfepB6fsYc/Tflt6iDPOAI/AAAAAAAAA0k/yVFtfn84gWs/s320/IMG_0093.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is new too, looks mysteriously like the old stuff but it has tags on it so it must be new! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Sadly, not much of an improvement.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ba9Nl6jEWdU/Tflt7zYjGSI/AAAAAAAAA0o/RdNIwwxHzGo/s1600/IMG_0094.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i$="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ba9Nl6jEWdU/Tflt7zYjGSI/AAAAAAAAA0o/RdNIwwxHzGo/s320/IMG_0094.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My redecorated guest room</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Guess I'm done.</div>Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-81087564195345129832011-06-15T12:47:00.001+05:302011-06-15T12:50:09.879+05:30Not going for Gold.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3tVJTh6Zw7U/Tfhc_f82_II/AAAAAAAAAz8/nXQ68vKHoto/s1600/gold+couch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3tVJTh6Zw7U/Tfhc_f82_II/AAAAAAAAAz8/nXQ68vKHoto/s320/gold+couch.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(not acutal couch, just what I am envisioning)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div> So, my house is empty of the old pink themed furniture. It is clean and somewhat organized as well. Kind of a forced spring cleaning. I have no idea what kind of new furniture I (we) am getting but I do have an inventory list with descriptions. <br />
Apparently I am not the only one getting new furniture as five brand new sets have arrived. So, tomorrow I will receive either red, blue, green, gold, or cream furniture. Please, dear God, do not let us get the Gold furniture. The red would look a bit ridiculous with the pink walls but it would be better than gold. Cream would be nice but the kids would ruin it. I have no say and will be happy with whatever shows up but please pray we don't get the Gold. Photos to follow tomorrow :)Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-34552063884450945172011-06-14T01:43:00.000+05:302011-06-14T01:43:36.597+05:30Let me explain Those who know me know that I am very sarcastic at times. I make jokes and exaggerate for a laugh and am, at times, self deprecating. So, when I complain about not being prescribed Valium I am half joking. I am also one of those people who doesn't often take medication unless I am half dead. Mother Nature has blessed me with an incredible immune system and even temperament so I haven't had much need for over the counter help in my life. The February earthquake in Christchurch was an exception.<br />
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While my mind recovered from the shock of it, my body took a bit longer to get back to normal. After the earthquake I broke out in an all over body rash (literally 3/4 of my body was covered in a red rash) that lasted for weeks and still comes and goes during times of stress. For a person who doesn't often suffer from these sorts of things, it is incredibly frustrating. So, when I joke about needing Valium or some other anti-stress medication, I am half serious because that rash is a bitch. Mentally, I can deal with the stress but I don't think I can deal with 3 new weeks of itchy.<br />
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As I sit here and write this blog, Christchurch is still shaking. Since the first 4.3 shake yesterday, they have had no less than 30 aftershocks the highest at 6.0. I would have passed out from the stress by now if I were there. I really cannot comprehend how people can stay there. When Adrian and I were caught in the February quake, my body pumped adrenaline continuously for 6 hours, then I got to come back to Wellington away from the aftershocks. Though we've had a few rough shakes here, it is nothing compared to what Christchurch is going through, yet, every time I hear a loud noise or a semi drove by, the adrenaline flows again. I could actually feel it releasing into by bloodstream. I suspect that this is what caused the rash in the first place - my body couldn't deal with all the chemicals it was pumping into itself. Now, multiply that by 100. That is what I suspect these mothers are feeling every time they send their babies to school, send them outside to play or put them to bed. Will it happen now? In an hour? Tomorrow? Will it just shake the house or crumble it? Will my car fall into a liquefaction hole on the way to work or will a boulder roll of the hill and crush us? You can say that I am being over dramatic and a worrywart and quote statistics all day long but until you've been standing in front of a building that is literally crumbling toward you and until you've run through a park with liquefaction spouting up in front of where you are trying to run and until you helplessly look on while people are bleeding and begging for help and there is nothing you can do....don't judge me when I have that 3rd glass of wine or roll your eyes when I need a minute to compose myself every time the news shows pictures of the destruction. We're on the same freaking fault line.<br />
From The Independet-an Australasia newspaper.<br />
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"For those charged with the unenviable task of trying to predict where the next major quake would strike it was always Wellington that created the most concern thanks to a prominent fault that is expected to produce a major earthquake in the next few decades and runs directly through the city centre."<br />
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There really is no answer. Nobody can predict if and when an earthquake will hit we can just prepare ourselves as best we can and keep living our lives, charging our cell phones and avoiding tall buildings just in case. I am also avoiding tunnels and bridges.Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-51683482628276373212011-06-13T08:31:00.003+05:302011-06-14T01:00:58.103+05:30New Zealand, I don't care how good looking you are, I'm breaking up with you. NZ has let me down again, Another 6.0 (the worst of 5 in the last 2 hours) quake to devastate the already mourning residents of Christchurch. Please keep them in your prayers, it looks like a never ending battle with Mother Earth. <br />
Since my doctor doesn't seem to think that major earthquakes are a cause for alarm to a recent quake survivor and refuses to prescribe me anti-freak out medication, I have prescribed myself a two week vacation back in North Carolina.<br />
Stay safe Christchurch, I wish I could take you all with me.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.geonet.org.nz/earthquake/quakes/recent_quakes.html">http://www.geonet.org.nz/earthquake/quakes/recent_quakes.html</a><br />
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<br />
NZST: Mon, Jun 13 2011 2:40 pm<br />
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Magnitude: 4.9<br />
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Depth: 10 km<br />
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Details: 10 km east of Christchurch<br />
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NZST: Mon, Jun 13 2011 2:20 pm<br />
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Magnitude: 6.0<br />
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Depth: 9 km<br />
<br />
Details: 10 km south-east of Christchurch<br />
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NZST: Mon, Jun 13 2011 1:28 pm<br />
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Magnitude: 3.4<br />
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Depth: 9 km<br />
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Details: 10 km south-east of Christchurch<br />
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NZST: Mon, Jun 13 2011 1:08 pm<br />
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Magnitude: 4.4<br />
<br />
Depth: 11 km<br />
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Details: 10 km south-east of Christchurch<br />
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NZST: Mon, Jun 13 2011 1:00 pm<br />
<br />
Magnitude: 5.5<br />
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Depth: 11 km<br />
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Details: 10 km east of ChristchurchNoble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-40908149679923691492011-06-12T03:36:00.001+05:302011-06-12T07:17:10.063+05:30Hell yeah I want new furniture!Our new furniture has finally arrived (not yet delivered to the house though). Goodbye southwestern pink couches and ridiculously high armed love seats. The cream colored tables and chairs that radiate pinkness from the glow off of the walls are going too.Not much I can do about the curtains other than buy new ones but....I am ok with that for now.<br />
It is no secret that I despise our furniture. I've said from day one that it is beyond ugly and I stand by that exclamation. You may have seen my previous before and after photos.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xKInLN1f7QM/TIMtMeAYi_I/AAAAAAAAAlw/xac_DM_xhiw/s1600/P1030416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xKInLN1f7QM/TIMtMeAYi_I/AAAAAAAAAlw/xac_DM_xhiw/s320/P1030416.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xIX2_HBcY6w/TIMuxo-0UUI/AAAAAAAAAmA/xv1U_4IeMS8/s1600/P1030417.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xIX2_HBcY6w/TIMuxo-0UUI/AAAAAAAAAmA/xv1U_4IeMS8/s320/P1030417.JPG" t8="true" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_i2ndp82tSM/TSlU-2-HmvI/AAAAAAAAAp8/IULR1yKGI0w/s1600/NZ+house+in+the+beginning+021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_i2ndp82tSM/TSlU-2-HmvI/AAAAAAAAAp8/IULR1yKGI0w/s320/NZ+house+in+the+beginning+021.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Our GSO reminded me that we would have to empty all of our personal belongings out of our current furniture which would no doubt cause us a lot of disruption. I'm ok with that, it's a good excuse to do a bit of clothing culling.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then, the movers would come and remove everthing one day and not bring the new stuff in until the following day. We would have to find a place to sleep since we'd have no beds. I'm ok with that too. Heck, I will sleep on the floor if it means I get a new bed that doesn't have magic marker all over the mattress not to mention the fact that it sags beyond comprehension. Now when Ewan opens his dresser drawer in the morning to get dressed for school, the drawer won't fall out onto his feet. Very exciting.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It may seem silly to get so excited about something as simple and unimportant as furniture but unlike some folks here at post who may do one or two foreign assignments during their career then go back home, this IS my home. This is my only home. This is where I live until I am sent somewhere else. I do not have another "real home" to dream of and mentally decorate while I am living in this one. So, yeah, I am willing to put up with 2 days of total disruption for the sake of having a pretty home for the next year. Lets just hope that the same GSO who chose the last lot of furniture didn't choose this one. That's the downside, I don't get to see the new furniture before I choose whether or not to swap it out. I could be making a huge mistake but I'm willing to take that chance. My back cannot take another year on that bed.</div>Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7102325919876006447.post-51247459434823881152011-06-06T01:40:00.000+05:302011-06-06T01:40:34.215+05:30Running to South America: 20 miles - and he doesn't wanna talk about it<a href="http://runningthebays.blogspot.com/2011/06/20-miles-and-he-doesnt-wanna-talk-about.html?spref=bl">Running to South America: 20 miles - and he doesn't wanna talk about it</a>: "It was a dark and stormy day - no, seriously, it was. See, Morgan, this is the type of awful cliched writing you're going to get if you w..."Noble Glomadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11401832579115408041noreply@blogger.com0