Bloom and grow

After almost a year of country living, Studley and i are kept rather busy with maintenance, updates, and various projects to make the new place our own. The current heatwave here in the midwestern U. S. of A. coupled with a home that does not have air conditioning, has us moving a bit more slowly at the moment. We can only work outdoors in the early morning before becoming completely soaked in our own sweat.

The work to be done isn’t just outside. The “bones” of the house are good, but the decor is in dire need of an update. There is a seemingly endless collection of wallpaper that must go. i got a start on it earlier this summer, taking down two walls of green floral Victorian-style print in the master bedroom. Got the walls cleaned, patched, and painted and then it got too hot to keep running the steaming machine.

The prior homeowner swore to us that the place stayed cool enough without air conditioning. Lack of ductwork (or an attic or crawlspace for ductwork) left few options for such a system – which i suspect is one of the reasons the prior homeowner was so stubborn about the issue. We decided last year to tough it out and see just how hot it would get. After the first heatwave in July we said “fuck. this. shit.” and found a contractor to install a mini-split system. We also bought a portable unit for the bedroom, as it didn’t get below 80 F some nights!

Electric work for the new system is done, and now we wait for the equipment to arrive via slooooow boat from Asia. Hopeful that we’ll be fixed up soon, i’m using the hot weather lockdown to clean up my office, organize photos, and excavate the electronic desktop… Which includes this here abandoned blogspace. Only neglected for 4 months this time, i am overdue for an update.

For most of May and June, we were working outside. Studley organizing the barn woodshop – also hauling, stacking, and cracking firewood for the winter. i pulled a lot of weeds and played an endless game of “what the hell is that plant?” using various apps. Learning to divide iris, and fighting a battle with unwanted thistle and garlic mustard.

We were lucky to have a chance to visit with Studley’s children in early June. The shared graduate school graduation for his son and daughter-in-law got us all together for a long weekend. His daughter flew in from Alaska. It had been quite awhile since we’d all been together.

In July we took advantage of a momentary break in travel restrictions, making a run to Turkey to visit The Girl and her family. It had been over 18 months since i’d seen them (over two years for Studley). With The Girl’s summer teaching break as a target, we started the gauntlet to get there while managing risk as much as possible. It was fairly challenging to make it happen, but we did it. One challenge – finding someone reliable to mow the lawn while we hit the road again – we’d trained up a new pet sitter earlier in the year. Time with The Girl, her husband, and this little nugget was worth it.

Along the same lines, i was tweaking to spend time with the two mini-sprogs out west, so a second trip was planned. We are just back from a short visit with The Boy and his clan. A bit less challenging logistically to get there and back, we enjoyed some low key time just being together. Much more relaxed than traditional holiday visits, we had time to just play.

i have struggled a bit with distance. Studley and i both raised children who are living lives of deliberate choices – which in all four cases have them living thousands of miles away from us. i have worried that the three grandnuggets won’t know us. Afraid that we will only be characters that exist in video chats on parental phones. These two trips have quenched those fears a bit. Much like the gardens at the homestead, the relationships with the littles are blooming.

Late in life, i’ve grown to appreciate the joys of gardening.

Housekeeping – Another Surface Interval

Where is daisyfae? Apparently on a road to hell, as i’m seeing pavers marked “good intentions” all around me…at least when it comes to posting regularly.

Still feeling the urge to write, chewing on lots of tasty nuggets that i need to sort out. For the past few months, i have been either in manic travel mode, or mired in winter slugdom, drinking coffee in bed far too late into the morning, wondering where my ‘get up and go’ went.

The trips? Since my last travelogue, i’ve been gone a bit. Spent almost three weeks in Turkey last month, living with my daughter and her family. The little one is now a very busy toddler. She would run into my room in the morning, encourage me to sing, and then tell me (in toddler-speak) about how her night was. It was wonderful! They are all doing well, but i missed them before the taxi even got to the airport.

Christmas included a roadtrip to spend the holiday week with Studley’s children – Son, daughter-in-law, and daughter all together for a week of games, booze, trampoline park (i watched!), and time spent cooking. Also included a trip to ‘doc in a box’ due to my unexpected bout with bronchitis. Mellow, quiet, and a week spent mostly in pajamas – and virtually no photos taken.

Visited with my son and his family over Thanksgiving in November. Just flew out and back, but had a good time with the clan, and extended clan. The vampire cupcakes were a success – and Max is already planning what we’ll make on my next trip!

We spent a few weeks in Alaska in September – visiting Studley’s daughter, Pixie! Rented a camper for a week and put over 1,000 miles on it, driving as far north as Fairbanks. Alaska is the place to be if there’s a global apocalypse. The residents there are fierce, independent, and rugged to the core. Got to watch a family butcher a moose. Just something you don’t see every day…

Long camping trip out west in August – started with a few days visiting The Boy and his family, and then onward to see Badlands National Park, and visit Cheyenne, Wyoming. i have a much better appreciation for the scale of the great plains. Corn. Cows. Muledeer. Gigantic skies. On the way back, we chose to get off the interstate highway, and wander the old national road system. To say that discovering roadside attractions has become a new hobby is an understatement. We have seen — SEEN — the world’s largest popcorn ball! Life will never be the same.

Festivals, music, dancing, friends, volunteer work, planning the next trips – i am anything but bored. Perhaps just slugging my way through a touch of the winter blues. Thinking that my recent round of being stuck in bed, drinking coffee, and being unmotivated is another ‘surface interval’ for me.

Apologies for another ‘non-blog’ post, but i’m going to try again. i plan to use some of my ‘slug time’ to get back out and about in the blogosphere – hoping to catch up with my old friends in the ether. i suppose it’s possible to bring the laptop to bed while i drink my morning coffee.

 

 

Generation Gap

After six weeks living with my daughter and her husband while they welcomed their new squab, i have had an odd transition home this time. Re-entry after a long trip often has challenges. Beyond time zones and jet lag, it’s re-learning which way to turn my sink fixture to get hot water, reacquainting myself with where i keep the utensils in my own kitchen, and reestablishing the muscle memory to get me from my bed to the toilet in the dark of night.

But this time? Also feeling the distance. The experience was intense, the relationship with my daughter and her husband stronger and closer. And that little human? How do we not attach when they first start focusing those little eyeballs on our faces? i am not one to go squishy-gooey over babies, but they have a way of stealing hearts if you spend a little time with them.

Another feeling that has also taken me by surprise? The sadness that my parents were never able to see both of my children become parents. That they didn’t have the chance to meet these adorable spawnlets. They also didn’t get to see my surprise transformation into “Gamma”.

It’s a by-product of being born the youngest child of older parents. Mom was 34 when i was born. Dad was 39. Even though i was a young mother – dropping my daughter when i was only 24 years old – my parents were still pretty old when i became a breeder.

My kids were high school age when Dad died in 2001. They remember him, and know him through my stories, but didn’t have as much time with him as they did with my mom. Many happy hours spent talking shit with her over friendly games of poker (she showed no mercy) provided a foundation for their relationship. Their favorite side hustle with her? “Tell us more embarrassing stories about Mom when she was little”.

She happily obliged. The more embarrassing, the more she’d embellish the tale.

The next generation of my clan – these three little critters – will never know my parents. Maybe if they show interest in genealogy when they’re a little older, i can share some direct lore with them. Go through the endless silly pictures. The primary school projects on finding your roots sometimes tease out a few tales.

i barely remember the tales my mother told me of her grandparents. There are bits and pieces written down, photos in black and white with spidery handwritten notes on the back. Eastern European names without many vowels. Tired farm women surrounded by a dozen unsmiling children. My father’s family history is much less clear – his parents were dead before he married mom, and he was an only child of immigrant parents. Not much written down.

And so it goes…

i will do what i can to teach these new little humans about their ancestors. But it’s just a little sad that they will never get to meet in person.

 

 

What to expect when you’re expecting abroad…

The arrival of a baby is a big deal in any culture. That magical combination of expanding a family, cementing a bond between parents, and good ol’ biological survival of the species. As expected, we found some cultural differences when The Girl shelled out her progeny abroad!

Two hours after the baby was extracted, The Girl, her husband, Metin, baby Ada and i were getting settled into the hospital room. The Girl was mostly naked, with the new baby laying across her chest.

The first visitors arrived – two close friends who are also expecting a baby in the summer. Just a quick “hi”, hugs, and they were about to leave when the next wave of visitors arrived. Metin’s mother and father stopped by, followed by his oldest brother, his two teen children, his younger brother and his wife, and their 3 year old daughter. It became a party!

Meanwhile, another friend (American ex-pat) showed up with a bag of snacks – cheddar cheese may seem like a strange thing to bring to a hospital room, but it’s hard to find good sharp cheddar here! It was a thoughtful gift…

i was a bit boggled at the number of people now crammed into a fairly small hospital room. In addition to the three of us and half-pint, another 11 people were in the room, some spilling into the hallway. It was at this moment a nurse told us the larger room they’d requested was ready – time to pack up mom, baby and gear and move to a different room – on another floor of the hospital!

During this transition, i expected some people to leave – silly me! Two more friends showed up! As we tried to get settled into the new room, the baby was crying, and a first time mother was attempting to nurse a brand new, fairly confused newborn.

The Girl and i exchanged a few glances – “This is bullshit!” she said (knowing that most people in the room wouldn’t understand it). The baby continued to cry. People were still gathered while she attempted to put the baby to her breast – most of the menfolk staying in the hallway. i told Metin that a little privacy would be fucking awesome!

Turns out, in Turkish culture, this is expected. If friends and family do not immediately stop by the hospital for a brief “Welcome Baby” visit, it means that they don’t care. We explained that in the US, groups of people visiting people in the hospital after the birth of a baby would be quite inconsiderate.

Lesson acknowledged, and compromises proposed. After returning home the following day, The Girl asked if the family and friend visits could be done in smaller groups – maybe 5 – 6 people at a time. Metin agreed, and visits over the next few days were done in smaller doses. It worked out pretty well…

Other observations:

Attack of the Random Grandmother: During the first hour in the hospital, trying to change a tiny diaper on a squawking baby, there was a knock at the door. It was a woman visiting her own family, who had heard the baby crying, and stopped by to make sure the baby wasn’t in danger. “What’s wrong with your baby? Why is it crying?” When The Girl and Metin took Ada to her first pediatrician appointment, there were plenty of other helpful grandmas telling them that the baby was too cold. The Girl is perfecting the smile that says “Thanks. Fuck off.”

Thermal Management: Layers upon layers upon more layers of clothing are required to keep an infant alive in a fairly temperate climate. While The Girl was in labor, a nurse came in to the room to inspect clothing brought to get the baby home. She looked at the three outfits, shook her head and said “That’s it?” If a baby sneezes, it’s not because she’s clearing her nose after a feed. She must be freezing. Their pediatrician laughed – he said it is always easy to spot babies of non-Turkish mothers! He said it’s perfectly fine to not bury the baby in too much clothing and blankets. i suggested they get this in writing to ward off overly helpful street grannies…

Three weeks into the new family venture, and Ada is thriving. Parents are gaining confidence and comfort, and we are all starting to get more sleep. The days have a battle rhythm. Metin returned to work this week, i’ve been focused on meals, cleaning, laundry and making sure The Girl gets showers, plenty of fluids, and sleep.

i’m sure there will be more culture clashes in the future. But for now, they’ve got this…

 

 

 

 

 

We’re captive on the carousel of time…

Seven years ago, The Boy and i hopped a plane for Istanbul to spend Christmas with The Girl. She’d accepted a job in Izmir the previous summer, and at the age of 25, moved here in July, 2011.

We spent Christmas Eve in a hotel, building the most beautiful Christmas Tree from beer bottles collected from the executive lounge. This year, my own tree is once again nestled in a box in my garage, five thousand miles away. That is perhaps the only similarity between that holiday and today.

2011: She knew no one when she moved here. She had made a few friends, was sharing an apartment with another English teacher at her school, and had a 45 minute commute to work via public bus.

2018: Her collective of friends is glorious, many couples including Turks and ex-pats. They surround her with love and support. She met and married a good man, bought a home, and continues to thrive as an English teacher in a private school.

2011: She’d studied Arabic and Middle Eastern Studies at university. Not Turkish. Giving herself a crash course in the language during her first few months in country, she’d become conversant, and was able to take care of her personal business, connect with her students, and serve as an able tour guide.

2018: Fluent in the language, she can generally do rapid fire translation for me in real time. She has no trouble conversing with her in-laws, and has built friendships with vendors at the local shops. Unlike Europe, the vast majority of Turks speak no English, so she learned this by necessity.

2011: The Boy was 23, still attending university full time, and fighting The Demons that led me to believe he might not live to see 25. We were close, but i lived in constant fear of That Phone Call.

2018: He is married, with two children. After a stint in the Army, he’s made a home in the great plains, surrounded by extended family. A good government job, a fierce and gorgeous wife who has managed to tame the wild beast… When he and i were here seven years ago, this was an unimaginable future.

2011: i learned enough Turkish to order food and beer. To find a toilet. Navigate an airport or two. It wasn’t pretty, but i could generally pantomime my way through a transaction.

2018: After several visits, and over a year of online studies, i probably have the conversational skills of a small child – animals, colors, numbers, food. No problem with food/beverage, or shopping. i’ve even managed to have a few short conversations with my son-in-law’s family! They are probably more surprised than impressed, but are very supportive.

2011: The tree that year was beautiful. All that mattered was that we were together. The Boy and i were outside our comfort zone, traveling for a holiday in order to spend time with The Girl as she charted a new course for her life.

2018: The tree this year? Pretty gorgeous. Seven years ago, this was also an unimaginable future. A gentle reminder from the universe that we really don’t know where we’re going…

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And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

Hello Baby!

3 a.m. It’s always 3 a.m.

After a week of lounging, walking, watching movies and Netflix, there was a knock on the guest bedroom door at 3 a.m. “It’s time! We are going to the hospital!”

The Girl had packed a bag. i was in my night shirt, but quickly threw on clothes, tossed my phone charging cords/brick into a small bag along with my toothbrush, and met them at the door.

A week past her due date, with a known big baby trying to make an entrance, the labor didn’t progress enough before there were minor signs of fetal distress around 2:00 pm. We were all a bit astonished by the speed of the staff as they whisked The Girl off to an operating room.

Her husband and i waited – only about 15 minutes later, a nurse arrived with a tiny bundle of squawk! All the fingers, all the toes, and an expression that said “Screw this! It’s cold out here!” Weighing in at 4 kgs (9 lbs), she’s almost outgrown her newborn clothes!

It was just over a week ago (on the 14th), but it seems longer. When i delivered my two spawn via c-section, i was in the hospital for about four days. The Girl was released 28 hours after delivery – high quality health care here!

For the past week, Mom, Dad, and baby are all getting used to each other. That dazed feeling of “We made this?” and “It doesn’t seem real!” and “Holy shit! We are totally responsible for this tiny human and we have no idea what we’re doing!”.

When the last grandcritter arrived, i had a fairly well defined job. Entertain the 3 year old big brother, cook/clean and take care of household stuff. This time, i had more of a ‘front line’ involvement – The Girl couldn’t lift or bend, and needed some help getting around. Taking the 3 a.m. to morning shift with the baby, making sure the exhausted parents get some sleep.

A week into the adventure, The Girl and her husband are gaining confidence. i only lend a hand when asked – and am focused on cleaning, cooking, laundry – with the added challenge of having only a basic working knowledge of the local language – but i’m proficient enough to shop!

There are several stories to share about culture shock and adjustments, but right now i’m operating on about 4 hours sleep. It will have to wait…

As excited as i was to welcome the new member of the clan, i’m just as excited to watch The Girl and her husband become parents. Somewhere along the way, her dad and i didn’t completely screw up… She’s got this.

“Hello babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. On the outside, babies, you’ve got a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of babies – ‘God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.'” – Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

The hardest part…

Tom Petty got that bit right. The waiting. The countdown to “Due Date” seems to go into  slow motion during the final weeks of pregnancy.

i arrived in Turkey* almost a week ago. For the first time in my life, i bought a one-way ticket out of the country. My daughter let me know she was expecting right before i left for an extended trip to Spain in mid-April – she was about five weeks pregnant. As i trekked El Camino, i added weeks to the count as we crossed Spain. By the time we got home, she’d cleared the first trimester.

She and her husband traveled to the states in July, where we orchestrated a gathering of our entire clan – including my ex-husband and his wife. The first time we’d all been together since… well… pre-divorce (2004). When The Girl got married, The Boy was in the Army and couldn’t attend the wedding. The logistics were complicated but we were all together for a few days. It felt good.

The rest of her pregnancy has gone well. Her school had hired an assistant/team instructor, so the transition to her maternity leave was seamless. She gets great medical care here – even with some cardiac issues, visits to the emergency room, and specialists in September, it didn’t cost her more than about $15 out of pocket**.

Yesterday was her due date, but Bebek has shown absolutely no interest in arriving on schedule. According to her obstetrician, “She’s very comfortable in there.” Bebek is already about 8 pounds. At the weekly check up yesterday, the doctor went through status, risks, options. The current plan is to let it ride for a week, with two check ups, and if nothing is happening, the delivery will be on Monday.

So we wait. We walk. It’s about 6 kilometers round trip from their home to the weekly bazaar. Their home is about a kilometer from a beautiful walkway along the Aegean Sea. It rained yesterday, so we wandered/waddled inside a gigantic mall.

Missing my travel buddy, who opted to stay home for this open-ended visit. We’ve discovered how much mindless fun it is to play with chat filters. We are dorks. We have enlisted the entire clan in this endeavor. They are dorks, too!

i’ve re-learned household routines, shopped, and planned meals to keep them fed. Put together a stroller that has more bells and whistles than my first car! Figured out their washer and dryer so i can assist with laundry.

Seeing her and her husband work through the preparations… Watching him help her put on her boots because she can’t bend over much… i’m excited to watch them become parents! They’re going to be amazing!

The waiting… Damn… It’s going to be a long week!

* The country, not the poultry.

** She gets 20 weeks paid maternity leave. Her husband gets two weeks. Paid. Her health care has been stellar, with very little out-of-pocket expense. She is a US Citizen, working and living in Turkey. The US has GOT to get its shit together on health care and family leave…

Rings a Bell

If you’ve been on board for any portion of my Trailer Park journey, you probably know that my relationship with my siblings has had many moments of “what the actual living, breathing FUCK?” After Mom died in 2014, our relationships were further tested as we worked through tons of her belongings. As executor, i was pretty stressed – meeting the intent of her instructions to me, both legally and morally.

Spending time with my sisters earlier this month, i was reminded that we’ve covered a lot of turf in the past few years. One particular exchange bubbled up into my memory bank…even though it was not discussed during our recent visit.

~~~~~~~~~

10 May 2016 – E-mail from S to DF: Mom was adamant that each of her daughters get a diamond ring which she put in the safety deposit box. I find it funny that they have just disappeared!  The one thing that Mom wanted me to have and it is nowhere to be found.  DQ [note: DQ is sister S’s daughter, and was Mom’s caretaker] knew Mom’s wishes and she would NEVER keep them.  No one else seems to be looking for them!

11 May 2016 – E-mail from DF to S: It’s taken me time to respond because of the absolute rage I’m experiencing (still) that you are accusing me of stealing the rings. This has been the angriest I’ve been in decades… I am STILL in a rage, but only now has it cleared my head enough to respond. Mom told me about the rings. I knew where they were supposed to go. They were not in the safe deposit box, nor any of the lockboxes at home. Not once did I ever suggest that DQ had taken them. Not. Once. I noticed Mom wasn’t wearing them during her hospitalization in July. I assumed they were safe. I can’t magically pull the rings out of my ass. I can’t go back in time and figure out where they are. I am beyond insulted that you are accusing me of EITHER stealing them OR not giving you something that Mom wanted you to have.

11 May 2016 – E-mail from S to DF:  I am sorry that you are so enraged about the rings.  There is nothing I can do to make them show up either.  If you don’t have them then you don’t have them.  I just want to make sure that DQ is NOT accused of taking them. Please call me – we need to talk.

12 May 2016 – E-mail from DF to S: I don’t have anything more to say. I’m furious. You accuse me of stealing (because you are worried that someone will accuse DQ of the same), question my integrity? This is not recoverable – words have consequences. It can’t be ‘talked out’.

Shortly after i sent this, i had to get in the car and drive to a regional university – i was giving a presentation that i’d worked on for months, pushing myself into new technological territory. While driving, i started getting calls, texts. i ignored them all. Arriving at the university, i took a deep breath and read my messages from S:

12 May 2016 – E-mail from S to DF: You are correct that words hurt and sometime things are said in anger that are not truly meant.  There is NO EXCUSE for the things that I have said.  To question your integrity is totally uncalled for.  For the anger and hurt that I have caused you — I’M AM TRULY SORRY!!!  What I have to tell you is that I found the rings.  Mom had put them in a box of costume jewelry that she knew I wanted and it had a ring box in it.  I took the box but never opened it.  I already had regrets for the things I have said before I found them and this makes it even worse.  Yes – I deserve it!!  I am extremely SORRY!  They mean nothing to me any more!  Losing my sister over them was not worth it!  I will send them to you to do what you want with and hope that someday you will find it in your heart to forgive me!

That all happened over two and a half years ago…

In September of this year, S and i planned our trip to Florida to spend time with sister, T, i suggested that she bring the rings – and that perhaps it would be a good time to distribute them. As S and i were preparing to leave for the airport and head home, we put the rings on T’s kitchen counter. There was no need to bring up any of the demons around the mysterious temporary disappearance of the rings.

It was 6:30 in the morning, and we were all pretty groggy. None of us were really sure which rings came from which of Mom’s three marriages, but we let T choose first. The set of two – probably from Mom’s annulled starter marriage – came to me.

We hugged. Made plans to get together again. It was what Mom had wanted – and although it took us four years, and a shit ton worth of angst to execute, we did it. And i have completely forgiven my sister…

 

 

 

Balancing Act

Balance. With each passing day, it becomes more important.

If i lose my balance at this age, i can break a hip. Falls are the leading cause of accidental death for the elderly. As with any other skill, it must be practiced – which explains why i watch the news on TV while perching on one leg. Frequently screaming obscenities at the television when the news is particularly stupid. Balance is more challenging for me when i’m standing still.

But i have not been standing still. So far this year, i’ve been out of town, or out of the country, for 18 weeks. Given that i haven’t poked my head out here since August, here’s a glimpse of what i’ve been up to since my last post.  If you want more detail, just ask! Hoping to have some time next month to write more…

• It’s not just about balance, but flexibility. Studley’s daughter, Pixie, moved to Alaska last spring. We decided to visit her before it became too cold and dark. Two weeks of exploring a few tiny corners of the state left us both ready to go back for an extended visit!  In two weeks we barely scratched the surface. We also deployed our small town tactic – stop by the local VFW or American Legion hall for a beer. Drink cheap, talk to locals, and find out what’s going on in town.
  

  

  
• Speaking of what’s going on… We went to our first regional “burn” – like Burning Man, but on a much smaller scale. We felt quite at home among the 500 or so burners assembled at the site of a reclaimed strip mine. My days of sleeping on dirt are mostly behind me, so we brought our teardrop camper. One of the requests by the organizers was that we find a way to disguise the camper to better blend into the temporary tent city. i think we did ok…
  

  
• Speaking of camping… We’ve been off in the woods a bit this autumn. That little metal egg keeps us plenty warm down to freezing. The bourbon helps, too.
  

  

  
• Speaking of bourbon… Haven’t seen much of the extended family this year – in large part due to me being gone for months at a time. When my Florida sister, T, was selected for a significant honor this month, it presented an opportunity to reconnect. Oldest sister, S, has had a tough year – she beat back another round of cancer (Lymphoma), and finally retired. We decided to grab some cheap tickets and head south. A lot of water under these bridges, but there indeed be bridges. Baby steps.
  

  

  
• Speaking of babies, i miss the crap out of these two li’l critters. Max is 3, and Ellie is now 1, and they are so much fun! But The Boy and his family are 1,000 miles away. That’s harder than i expected. Even more fun? The Girl is due to shell out her first child in a few weeks – which means i’m packing a large suitcase, and preparing for a trip to Turkey (the country, not the poultry). My third grandcritter is about to arrive – and will be living 5,000 miles away.
  

  

There’s more. So much more… but i seem to either have time to live hard, or time to write. For the moment, it’s going to be “live hard”. Operation “Speedball to the Finish Line” is well underway…

Road nuggets

Somewhere between London and Philadelphia, the fever hit. i have spent the past week dealing with a mild case of the flu, while managing re-entry after being away from home for a month. Some random nuggets…

• Thirty days. That is the longest i’ve ever been away from ‘home’ as an adult. This is mostly because of The Job, which i no longer have. Studley and i were very deliberate about pushing our comfort limits, and we’re still sorting out how we feel. Not seriously considering life as ex-pats, but some gentle experience should we ever choose that route.
• i missed my pets. If i am going to do this on a fairly regular basis, i probably should not have pets. My live-in pet sitter had a pre-planned trip in the middle of that 30 days, so i scrambled to hire people, and find a friend, who could cover those 10 days. One of the most stressful aspects of being gone – and most expensive. i took to feeding treats to the street cats and dogs. 
• Air travel is still pretty awesome – about 12,000 miles flown on this trip. How long would it have taken by ship? Who knows? Luggage lost on the way to Athens, but it found us a couple of days later. British Airways thought we hadn’t shown up for our flights TO Athens, so they canceled our return, but still managed to get us on a flight home. For all the barking about how shitty air travel is, it’s pretty amazing when you stand back a bit…
• Turkey – Izmir is a lovely city – about the size of Chicago. The public transit cards include use of buses, ferries, trams and bike share. To the people who consider this a ‘third world country’? Rethink that shit… We were out and about alone, day and night, and i NEVER felt unsafe.
• Plumbing – in Turkey, there are bins in the toilet stalls for the collection of used paper. The plumbing systems and sanitary waste processing facilities do not handle toilet paper. Surprising how fast you get used to this. On the plus side? Most toilets in Izmir (public, private) have built in bidet functions. Surprising how fast you get used to this, too. Exploring options to upgrade my home toilet…
• Language – We started using an app (Duolingo) to learn Turkish about two months before launch. The Girl emphasized the need to be fluent in numbers – enabling basic commerce. We thought we’d done ok. We were wrong. i DID have a really cool conversation with my son-in-laws 2 year old niece about colors and animals. i think this topic requires a separate post, as there are numerous examples of how things worked, and didn’t, and many lessons learned along the way!
• Baggage – The Girl had a list of things she wanted us to bring, and we hauled another bag of Christmas gifts from The Girl’s Dad and his wife. We had to bring the big suitcases. Limited to 50 pounds each, we still had to deploy two roll aboard suitcases, along with our standard travel backpacks. Didn’t leave a lot of space for our personal belongings – so we packed REALLY light. Turns out, i can live for a month with just a few shirts, trousers/leggings, a dress, a fleece jacket, raincoat, two pairs of socks, one extra pair of shoes, and four pair of undercrackers. Excellent training for what lies ahead…