With A Little Help From My Friends

It's not like this is the first time that I'm having to say goodbye to friends. I've done it many times before and I'm so blessed to have had wonderful friends over the years who have kept in touch and visited me no matter where on earth I have lived. So why is India so much harder?

Well, the answer is in the question. Because India is so much harder.

India has been the biggest adjustment in my life. The tough times have been the toughest I've ever faced. The triumphs have been that much more meaningful. I've never had to rely on other human beings so much as I have in India--even for the smallest of things. I've also never supported and given of myself to my friends as much, either. There's a bond that comes with that kind of support. And it's a bond that will make saying goodbye very difficult.

So to my Chennai friends that I must say goodbye to in the next two days, here are my rules so I can do this with an iota of dignity.

1) No crying. There's no need to add more water to monsoon season.

2) We must keep in touch. Even though I won't be here, we can still SMS, Skype and we'll always have Facebook.

3) I will visit you and would love to have you visit me.

4) If Jesus would have His last supper in India in 2009, He would say, "To heck with the flat bread and wine. Let's order a round of garlic bread and Cosmopolitans, boys!" Heh heh...WWJD?

5) And as my friend, Penny, says...

"It's not goodbye. It's see you later."

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I'm Training for a 5K. Sponsor Me?

Anyone who knows me knows that I don't run. Maybe I would run if the house were on fire. Mmm...even then, if I knew I had enough time, I'd probably mosey out the door with the heat of the flames heating up my ass.

My standard coping mechanisms involve chocolate and sleep. Oh! And cussing. I'm trying to lay off the chocolate. And cussing just isn't giving me enough oomph. So I'm trying JB's method. Running. And sex. But this post isn't about sex. It's about running. Focus, will ya?

Here's the deal. I need motivation. A goal. So I've signed our whole family up for a 5K run. It's actually a race but I don't like that word or the concept. Especially when I run at a pace of 4 miles per hour. That's a 15 minute mile, which ain't pretty. I'm improving all the time though. The first time I tried running, I could only do it for four minutes.

So, I make no claims to race per se, but I do promise to finish the 5K run. I think it's a good first goal. To make it more meaningful for me, I've picked a 5K which involves raising money to feed the hungry in Nova Scotia. If you'd like to sponsor me (or our family) to help raise funds to feed the hungry, please click the blue Walk Nova Scotia banner in the sidebar. Honestly, sponsoring us in this event is the equivalent of taking your shoe and kicking me in the butt with it.

Who knows? Maybe I'll go on after that to run a 10K or even a half-marathon.

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Mouth Like a Trucker

I don't like cussing. I don't even like hearing other people cuss. It's not very lady-like and it sounds rather unintelligent.

When I do feel the need to drop a bomb, I generally use words like darn and shee-oot. I'm not the kind of girl who drops f-bombs in every other sentence or peppers conversation with the word whore in the same way that a teenager uses like or ya know. Yeah, until recently. I've turned into a foul-mouthed, cussing Christian. Ugly, ugly, ugly.

I've been laying off the chocolate and one more international move on top of everything else seems to be pushing my language skills--or lack thereof--over the edge. Hey, I never said I coped in healthy ways but I do cope. Every time a verbal bomb escapes my mouth, it's like I have an out of body experience and I can see myself from someone else's point of view...un-lady like and unintelligent. Even my mental sighs seem to start with an F.

I need to clean up my mouth--and my mind--and I need to get a grip on it before I relocate within close proximity to my family.

Shee-oot.

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Triple Income Family

Our days of luxury are over, folks. The cost of fuel is on the rise and we need to make ends meet. We've been thinking carefully about our dreams, our priorities and our financial needs. I think we've devised a plan that is win/win/win.

Lets start with JB. After much soul-searching, he's decided to fulfill his life-long dream. We were on pins and needles for a little while but we finally we got the call. And he's been accepted into beauty school! You may not know this about JB, but he has quite a flair for hair. Hairdressers are judged by their own hair style, so look at this, what else I can say? He's a freakin' genuis with hair. Our families could not be prouder of him. Between his salary and his tips (not to mention how much money my vain ass will save on beauty treatments), he will once again be the primary bread-winner in our family. He's overjoyed to be able to tap into the talent and desire that he has suppressed all these years in the corporate world. Heh, what a waste of time that was.

Me? I'm midway through my correspondence course on becoming a Domestic Goddess. Only, I plan to use my my new education to earn the big bucks. I'm going to be other people's Domestic Goddess. As glamorous as this sounds, I might as well be honest about it. I'll be cleaning floors and toilets. Ain't no shame in it. I've got a few good gigs lined up already--how the mighty like to help the fallen and what a blessing that is to me. There are many exciting aspects of this for us. I've never contributed to the family's household income before now. My self esteem is going to soar! We're thinking we might even be able to afford a camper so we can continue to travel.

And HeHeelys...well, it's time for that kid to learn the value of a Loonie. We have him signed up for a newspaper route and he'll begin as soon as the plane wheels hit the the ground. After all, somebody has to support me and JB while we finish up our education. Plus, we feel that making HeHeelys pay for his own homeschool curriculum would be a great way for him to set and achieve a goal. He'll learn how to manage money and become responsible. We're debating whether or not to invest in a shoe shining business for him as well. The website says they train their licensees and we could earn up to $250.00 per day if we live in a major convention city. Something to consider if HeHeelys finishes his school day early. HeHeelys always talks of having his own business.

So as you can see, we've got it all under control. If the price of fuel starts to level out and we're all pitching in together, our lifestyle shouldn't change too much. We'll be using our God-given talents, pursuing our dreams and since we'll have flexible hours, we'll be able to spend more time together as a family. What a life we'll have, eh!? The triple income plan...Win. Win. Win.

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Say what?

Moving Company: I'm sorry, we're booked next week and cannot pack you. We will come tomorrow. (Meaning today.)

Me: Say what?

Nine days until we leave and our house is getting packed up today. No concrete travel plans for Kramer. No flights. No hotel (on either end). No packed suitcases. No house. No nothing. What a white-knuckle ride. Nobody can ever accuse us of taking the path of least resistance. Not our style.

Let me just say this...an international move for a company you believe in with all the people who have the know-how...is stressful. Resign from a company and all of that gets tossed out the window. I think we're supposed to be grateful that we're not paddling our mattresses back to North America but ridiculous is ridiculous.

The estimator (and I use that term loosely) came to do his thing. They told us that we're over on our shipment. In order to not have a 20' overflow (the company shipped it here but they're not likely to ship it back--unless it it is light enough and small enough to not sink our mattresses into the ocean--paddle faster, JB), we have thrown out or given away nearly 30 bags of papers and general stuff, a treadmill, weights and weight stand, a pool table, 9 book cases, toys, games, 2 plastic carts with drawers full of Lego, bags and bags and bags of clothing and shoes, a double bed, 2 dressers, curtains, 2 side tables, a massive wardrobe/armoire, a kitchen table and four chairs, glass wear, dishes, toaster oven, coffee maker, several power converters, pool furniture and a big stainless steal grill--and God only knows what else. And we're over? Estimator --> very loose term, I say. Maybe when this is all said and done I should start my own moving company. That's right. One run by a woman who has done this a gazillion times so it all gets done right. Ahem...and well.

I finally got the chance to talk to McGyver yesterday to ask him about his plans. Sorry ladies, he does not want to work for a family again but you can probably ask for him as a relief driver (please tip him well).

McGyver: You see a face every day and then you say goodbye. *head wobble* Too hard, madame.

Me: *sob*

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