Chicks dig scars - on the men folk!

Following up with reason 1,385 why it's a good idea my parents did not name me Grace, I've got a two-parter for you all.

Part one -I've been taking the kids to the base daycare center on Wednesdays for part of the day. This allows me to do such wonderful things as clean the house, run errands, have lunch with the hubby, and go to the laundry mat without fear of having McWasherStealer pull my clothes out of the washer and put her stuff in. I have (mostly) forgiven her but I have certainly not forgotten it. Pause. Oh, who am I kidding?!? I would have to seriously restrain myself from wanting to step on her toe (or something) if I saw her again. Yes, I know I should get over it. It really only bothers me when I think about it or walk into the laundry mat.... okay. This is unhealthy. Back to the main point.

So yesterday I gathered up about two weeks worth of laundry including all the bathmats and small rugs from the kitchen and bedrooms. One of the great things about dropping the kids off while I do laundry is that I can then use the stroller to roll the laundry into and out of the laundry mat. Since there are no parking spaces near the laundry building, this is proving to be most helpful. The laundry mat was unusually busy for a Wednesday, but everyone was well behaved and friendly. It just took me longer than I expected to get it done. I came home to put away the laundry and straighten up, and before I knew it, it was time to go get the kids. So I jumped in the car and headed to base, only to pass R as I went around the big curve up the hill. I figured he'd want to come with me, so I turned around. Unfortunately, so did R so we both passed each other again. We met at a turnout and decided that we'd just drop his car off at the house since it was so close and he'd ride with me. I was in front of him, so instead of pulling in the driveway, I pulled to the side of our street, but then decided to be nice and back into the driveway so R could just jump into the car. And then I ran over him. JUST KIDDING!

Our landlords put a pole at the end of the driveway so that if someone was backing up (ahem) they wouldn't accidentally hit the bushes or the flowerbed beside the driveway. And, great news! It works. I hit the pole instead, even though I've backed up into the driveway a hundred times. Luckily, the pole just leaned a little and the van was barely damaged at all so we decided to go and get the kids and tell our landlords as soon as we got back. When we got back, they weren't home. R went first thing this morning and told them about it. Luckily for us, they weren't upset and were way more concerned about our van than their property. R asked if we could just fix it, which they said was fine. What a relief!

Part two -A couple weeks ago, we decided to have Thanksgiving dinner at the base dining hall. I'm still having irregular success with our German oven and we are trying to keep our oil and electric costs down. Plus, no dishes to do, no mess to clean up, and if the kids only take one bite of the veggies or meat, we are surprisingly less likely to mention the starving children around the world or the words 'clean plate club'. I think it has to do with having someone else decide the portion size or something. Don't really know. So noonish we head out to the car to head toward our turkey dinner. YUM! I decide that I'm going to just give the pole a little shove to see if we will be able to fix it. I shove, it moves, so I think that it will only take a sec to fix it completely. Woohoo! Only, shoving it fails to move it further, so I decide to pull. I pull and the pole is slowly moving into a vertical position. One more big tug should do it, so I yank and the freaking pole snaps in two, smacking me in the face as I fly backwards into the street. I have to admit this, if I had been watching it, I would have laughed. R, ever a better person than me, comes flying over not laughing at all. I'm guessing it looked pretty serious from his perspective from the look on his face. I first thought it hit me in the nose, because that what seemed to be hurting. Then I saw and felt the blood. Oh just great!!!!!!!! So I go inside to check the damage and clean up the blood. I take one look in the mirror and realize that I'm going to need stitches. Way to go, Gracie Lou Free-toSmackherselfintheface-bush. I grab a washcloth so the kids don't have to see and off we go. More good news. We can go to the hospital in the same town as the base where we live because they don't do pediatric emergencies, but apparently they do stupid people stunt emergencies. About two hours and three stitches later, we're out of there.

I do feel the need to confess a couple things. 1) Cleaning the wound hurt worse than the stitches did. 2) The stitches hurt - A LOT. I mean, seriously people - how can those of you who have facial cosmetic procedures stand it? Not that I'd ever have botox, but if I was ever leaning that way, this little hoopla put the kibosh on that idea. Ouch, ouch and ouch! The doctor tried numbing me with a shot, but the liquid hurt worse than the needle so we jointly decided (read: I begged, he took pity and agreed) that we'd to a topical creme to numb the top of the skin and I'd grin and bear it for the stitches. And while the stitches hurt, it was much more preferable to that freakin' numbing needle and solution. Yikes! 3) I have no idea how celebs who plump or fill their lips talk, eat, or keep from making strange and odd faces. 4) We still went to the dining hall because I knew the kids were starving and I really didn't feel like cooking now. And because I can be a bit strange at times, here are the top few reasons I thought of for why I had a huge bandage on my upper lip: laser hair removal gone bad, no time to shave the she-stache, a big ol' hormonal pimple, or step one of my Priscilla Presley lookalike process. heh!

So, after all is said and done, it was an...interesting...Thanksgiving. Here's the picture to prove it :)

Give me strength!

As I think pretty much everyone knows by now, I am in grad school. I think it should be called 'only graduate it you are lucky and forgo sleep school'. Just a thought. So, this week is my final week of my current class which has been rough on me, mostly because of all the traveling we did. And, I'm just the teensy, tinest bit anal and obsessive about certain things. Okay, fine. I'm extremely anal and obsessive.

Moving on - in each class we are assigned to learning teams. I've been with two of my team mates through this entire program except for one class. We work really well together and each have very complementary strengths and weaknesses. The only problem is that we almost always end up getting one to two extra folks as well. We try to make them feel welcomed and included - no inside jokes or dismissing their ideas or ganging up on them. For the most part, each person that has been on our learning team has been pretty great to work with. For awhile, there was a fourth person that was in most of our classes and therefore on our learning team. Yet as time went on he kept doing less and less work and it was poorer and poorer quality. So, I finally called him on it. And I was nice about it. He got mad, dropped the team, and we haven't seen him since.

This class we had a lady assigned to our team that we'd been in class with before, but hadn't worked with on a learning team. No biggie. We progress through class and she does the absolute minimum (at least it seemed to me) required to get by. So this week we had a project due on day three and in the early morning hours of day three when she hadn't checked into the team forum in a week and a half, I emailed her to see what was going on and emailed our professor to see if our teammate had communicated with her in any way. Prof M said no. Hmmmm. Later on that day, which was also the day the project was due, team member four logs on and say s she's been sick with the flu. Having had the flu a time or two myself, I can sympathize with her, but I am disappointed that she couldn't or didn't think to let us know what was happening.


Here's where it gets sticky. Teammate 4 seems to think that because she read the project and changed a verb tense that that should qualify as equally contributing. To be honest, I appreciate the proofreading and I totally missed that error, so thank you teammate four. But to suggest that she (and this is a quote) 'did what she had to do to pull our team through' is, well...laughable. My other two teammates are simply not going to be confrontational, which I can appreciate. But since M and I did all the work, I bristled a bit that she actually thought she did comparable work. So, I send her an email to her individual email addresses letting her know that I was disappointed that she didn't let us know what was going on and why she wasn't online. This quickly started turning into a snark fest between the two of us, so I suggested that we agree to disagree. She sends back another snarky email and I realize that it's pointless to continue to converse with her.

Since it was the last week of class, I am hoping this will be the last I see of her for a while. I know that in life you are always going to meet people who don't do the work but will take the credit, and I can deal with that. But it never fails to amaze me when I meet someone with a deep-rooted intense sense of entitlement, like good ol' teammate four. I also feel sorry for her. She (and this is paraphrasing part of her bio that she posted in class) considers herself to have a natural gift for inspiring and motivating people. Man, did THAT take on a completely different meaning after working with her. LOL!!!!! Thanks for listening to me vent. Life moves on :)

Pics of our little ankle biters

T and S - tuckered out and ready for bed, snuggled up in Papa's chair T strikes his Spiderman pose at Dad's station

T and S after a rousing round of trick or treating

Awwww.. this is one of my favorite pictures of the kids ever

Trick or Treat!

The Mom of a former classmate of T's founded a chapter of the MOMS Club here. I joined immediately. I also volunteered to be a playgroup leader, and luckily the playgroup I was assigned was T's. Since he can be a bit difficult (ahem), I think the playgroups will go a bit more smoothly since I can spot the signs that he's going to freak out and try to circumvent them.



On Thursday, there was a Trunk or Treat gathering for the entire membership. Since T was in school, it was just me and S. This was fine with me because it's generally easier to manage one child instead of two, especially when there's candy involved.


Thursday morning, I get up and get ready then wake the kids up. I've allowed an hour to get them up, dressed, fed and out the door which is normally plenty of time. In case we run short I grab breakfast to go, which is why granola bars were invented, right? I've got to get S in a costume before we leave because I'll go straight to the Trunk or Treat after I drop T off. Since we live off base, we didn't buy any Halloween candy this year since Germans don't do the whole Trick or Treat thing. Therefore, I needed to run by the Shopette or the Commissary to grab a bag or two of candy before we went Trunk or Treat-ing.


For whatever reason, S had a violent, opposing interest in being costumed, even though she had plenty of costumes to choose from. She could be a ballerina, princess, Tinkerbell, or a Wake Forest cheerleader. Thanks to Grammy for the costumes. I managed to get the Wake Forest costume on first, but the bottoms were a little big and I couldn't decide which way they should go, since they had the Demon Deacon (their mascot) on them. If you put the Deacon in the front, it looked like she was wearing a freaky, exotic pair of men's banana hammocks (you know, the kind where there's an elephant trunk where their um..well, you know should go). If you put the Deacon in the back, it made her look like we needed to change her pants and frankly it looked uncomfortable to sit on. I know my words don't do it justice, but it was quite funny if you plugged your ears to drown out her shrieking protesting.

I finally got her into the Tinkerbell costume, partly because T liked that one the best and partly because it was the only one that snapped in the crotch which made it easier to get over the tights and onsie. And poor T, during all of this drama, he managed to go potty (WOOHOOO!) and get dressed by himself, all while trying to help me calm down S. It ended up taking me over 30 minutes to get her dressed and at least another 10 to get her to the door so I could put on her shoes and coat, which set off a fresh round of shrieking. While hauling her out to the car, T looks at me and says, "Mom, she doesn't like this" which okay, true, but also - too bad. We said we were Trunk or Treating and Trunk or Treating we were going.

I was late getting T to school so that just set a negative tone for my day anyway. After dropping him off, I dashed to the main base and literally ran through the Commissary to grab some candy. I was only five minutes late to Truck or Treat, which was pretty good since we left the house 20 minutes later than usual. I threw open my trunk, tossed the candy in a bag, and proceeded to try and get S ready to Trunk or Treat (which involved unsuccessfully trying to get her to hold her wand and put on her hat since it was cold and rainy). We were the next to last folks to arrive and the last to join the group of moms and kids milling about.

As I'm coaxing S towards the group of folks, a lady approaches me, looks in my trunk and says flatly, 'OH. You didn't decorate.'

I'm willing to admit the possibility that due to the rough morning I had, I was just the slightest bit testy, but the tone in which she said that, coupled with the fact that it was not mentioned in the email that decorating your trunk was a requirement just raised my hackles. I am 70% sure I replied pleasantly but firmly that I didn't realize you were supposed to decorate your trunk, but sometimes my pleasantly but firmly can be perceived as hostile, so the jury is still out on how Suzy Homemaker took that statement. She asked me to sign in on a piece of paper with nothing backing it in the rain, so that was a bit of a challenge. When she saw my name, her attitude changed. "Oh!" She exclaimed, "You're B. Dahl. You're the playgroup coordinator!" and then she started babbling about...nothing....the way people do when they realize they've been obnoxious or stuck their clog covered foot into their big ol' verbal diarrhea prone mouth. I cocked an eyebrow and said nothing until she went away other than to confirm that I was, indeed, B Dahl.

So, we did the whole Trunk or Treat thing, which was fine. And I wasn't the only one (thank goodness) who didn't decorate their truck. After making the rounds of all eight vehicles, we all just kind of stood around shivering until the first Mom ran for the comfort and cover of her vehicle and left. Then we pretty much all scattered. Come to find out, this woman is in my Friday playgroup. Great. One of the other moms already warned me that she was going to be difficult to deal with, which I can totally see coming. But there's always one in every group and she can't be any worse than S.A., who is a fellow CS spouse. Still, it did occur to me more than once to lock her in one of the decorated trunks and hide the key. Luckily I showed more restraint than the laundry room incident, but then again, she didn't mess with my stuff. Stay tuned, I'm sure hilarity will ensue shortly.

I Heart Lufthansa

After a dismal and disappointing experience on United, our flight on Lufthansa seemed even more amazing. Here's why...

Waiting at the gate in Denver, a Lufthansa employee approached us and asked us if we wanted to pre board. Why, yes! We were assigned bulkhead seats so there was extra leg room and no seat in front of us for T or S to kick. Woohooo! We didn't have to be the foot police. They also have seat belts for infants that loop through your seat belt so in a worse case scenario, your child isn't going to go flying about the plane if they get stuck on your lap for the entire trip *coughUNITEDcough*.

The bathrooms were downstairs. And there were plenty of them. With changing tables for the kids. With a nice, wide stairway and a good place to stand and stretch your legs. And, you could actually turn all the way around in the bathroom without having to step up on the toilet or be a master of yoga.

When S fell asleep, the flight attendant, which they call pursers (like Gopher on the Love Boat), asked if we wanted a bassinet, which clipped onto the bulkhead wall. Hallelujah - and yes we did! They had an activity pack for kids that included a coloring book, crayons, colored pencils, and a deck of cards. They fed us two meals - real meals with silverware, and hot towels afterwards. We were offered drinks on numerous occasions, and they set out trays of water and juice for anyone that might be thirsty in between beverage rounds.

We each had personal entertainment systems so we could choose what and when to watch or listen. It was like being in First Class with normal sized seats. My only complaint was that it was extremely warm, but you know what? I'll sweat a little in trade off for all the other perks.

United is coming untied

So, we thought we found a great deal on airfare to the U.S. It's a long story about how we ended up planning a trip to the States, and I'll spare you my fence sitting, waffling, wishy washy tendencies and just sum it up by saying we thought we were getting a great deal and R managed to get the time off work so we made the plans. In some ways, it was like we were in an episode of The Beverly Hillbillies. Wide Roads! 24 Hour Stores! Directional Signs We Could Interpret! The land of where you can find whatever you want....it was good to be back.

So, I thought when we purchased the tickets that it was made clear that I wanted four seats for the four of us. Because S is under two, I was told that she had to have a paper ticket and we needed to pick it up at the United ticket counter in Frankfurt. No problem - they even gave me a verification to present to the agent. We parked in the cheaper holiday parking lot, which meant we had a bit of a commute to the actual airport, so we left early and got to the airport in plenty of time. When we found the United counter, I walked up and presented S's passport and asked to pick up her ticket. The agent, smiley and efficient, started tip-tap-typing and then asks me for 87 Euro and some change. No, no, no, no, no... see... I have this handy dandy printed verification. The agent, now referred to in my head as Miley McUnhelpful, just smiled and said that the paper ticket was never dropped off from the travel agency and that we needed to purchase a ticket for S. I argue the point spectacularly unsuccessfully, R tries his hand at it and also has no luck, so we ask for a supervisor and proceed to wait about half an hour. I did not have the travel agency's number with me, nor did I have our German cell phone on me being that we left it in the car in the holiday parking lot, which was about as accessible as say..Mars. The supervisor, when she finally came over, offered to call the travel agency, which the agent had previously said she would not do, but we had to have the number, which we didn't. Because, apparently, phone books do not exist in Germany. After an extended period of arguing back and forth, I had to buy the stupid ticket, which I then realized was not a seat but was a lap ticket. Now, when I flew back from NC with the kids by myself in '07 we had to purchase a seat for S because it was an international flight. So I was stunned that 1) I had to buy the same ticket twice, 2) they make you pay them money to have your child sit in your lap, and 3) there was a sincere, severe lack of customer service from United.

After all that, we still had to wait in line to check our luggage and get boarding passes. When we got to that counter, the agent was much nicer and sympathetic, but never actually helped us. The system kept crashing when she tried to get a boarding pass for S, so after another 45 minute wait, we finally got boarding passes and had to dash to catch our flight. Now would be a great time to note that for our connecting flight, the system assigned us three separate seats. I was told to check in with the agent at the gate and they could fix it. We dashed up to the agent as the flight was already boarding, and he said he couldn't help us there but that the folks in Chicago could. Uh huh. So we get on the plane, luckily we were in the very back near the bathrooms and the galley so at least we could get up and stretch our legs. R held S for almost the entire flight and the kids were so good. Another thing about the infant in lap ticket - they get no food or beverage. For a six month old, that's no problem. But a nine hour flight with an 18 month old? That's just not right. And the plane, of course, was full. #*$&%$%$)$&$*!!!!!

We made it, and even though we had a three hour layover in Chicago, we barely made that flight between the line at customs, realizing we left S's shoes on the plane, being misdirected by a United agent about which terminal to go to, and having to wait in two more lines to try to get the separate seat thing straightened out. Which is a story in itself. Our gate for the flight to Greensboro was beside, conveniently, a United Customer Service counter and a McDonalds. R and the kids went for food and I tried the customer service approach. The lady listened to my story, seemed sympathetic, but then told me she couldn't help me and told me to talk to the gate agent. Only, there WAS no gate agent at the gate. SIGH. So now I was tired, frustrated and getting angry. At least Miley McUnhelpful was honest about not assisting us in any way. So I waited at the gate counter until someone showed up and recounted my story for what seemed like the millionth time. And she pulled us up, announced that she couldn't help us, and that we'd have to talk to one of the flight attendants about helping us all sit together. Let's keep in mind here that the seats were nowhere near each other and would have had T sitting beside total strangers. Uh... I don't think so. And then the final straw. The paper ticket I purchased (for the second time) in Frankfurt that Miley McUnhelpful said I would HAVE to have to get a refund from either United or the travel agent was confiscated by the gate agent. This started an actual argument, which R and the kids walked up on right as I burst into tears and shouted, "Could someone, anyone, just ONCE freakin' help me out today instead of screwing me over!!??!?!?!?!?!?" She wouldn't budge, she printed out some receipts that aren't going to help me at all, and said, "We're through here". (sigh). R, after getting the kids settled with some actual food, went up and somehow got a United agent to ask people to switch seats so we could all sit together. Bearing in mind they had oversold the plane by six seats....which has no relevance but just ticked me off so I thought I'd mention it. Worst airline experience EVER.

But we got to NC and things got better from there. I emailed the travel agent who said they did indeed deliver S's ticket to the United ticket counter, so now I'm battling that whole situation. And, as a matter of fact, I did indeed need that paper ticket and the printed receipt I now have instead I may as well use for toilet tissue for all that it's worth. So frustrating. I had hoped to get it all straightened out by the time we flew back to Germany, but alas, it was not to be. At least we flew from Denver to Frankfurt on Lufthansa, which other than the fact it was 100 degrees on the flight, was a much, much, much better flight. I do, however find it abhorrent that United got paid three times for the seat S was supposed to have - we paid twice and the person that actually sat in the seat paid as well. Shame on you United!

Ahhhhh... the land of plenty

I love America. I love the wide streets, the ample parking, the way the signs on the interstate make sense. In Germany, they use cities to direct you towards where you are going. So if you are heading to Frankfurt, for example, you need to know whether to head toward Cologne or Koblenz. If you don't know, as I often don't, you spend a lot of time driving around the country. The upside to that is that the scenery is beautiful. The downside to that is that gas is expensive here, and if you need it off base - well - make plans to sell a vital organ or a family heirloom.

Which brings me back to my original point. I love America. When we arrived in NC, regular gas was around $3.46 a gallon. When we left NC for TN, it was $3.06. In Oklahoma, we paid $2.29. WOW! On base, it's $3.12, I think, which is much lower than when we left.

You know what else I love about America? Customer service and voice mail. Words can not describe how wonderful it was to have people that were actually willing to help you if you had an issue, well, except for United Airlines, which is another story entirely. And one that will be told soon, rest assured.

I admit that over here, lots of Americans seem to have no regard for the cultural differences or the German way of life. We eat too fast, waste too much, and can be loud and obnoxious. But we do have Target, wide road shoulders, and sweet iced tea. I call that a draw right about now.