I had a realization today that my life is unique. I just got home from the Spangdahlem Bazaar where I spent the weekend with my imports business (with Saturday night at Heidelberg for the Toppers).

Point being, when I got home, I had done the following in one hour:

- Received faculty paperwork for teaching with UMUC this summer
- Arranged the phone call English lessons for tomorrow night
- Set up a meeting to discuss my business website tomorrow morning
- Got an e-mail about being on a Japanese TV show this summer
- Called about the status of an Army job that I applied for
- Finally booked the Nebraska part of the States trip

I mean - what is up with this? Most people have one fairly well-defined life path. What do I have - like four? I've always been someone that has more than one thing going at a time, but seriously? I don't think I ever really realized how diverse the things are that I do.

But I love it and I wouldn't trade it. And I guess it's a good thing I'm used to it because in order to change my life and make staying in Europe work, I have to embrace the weird and unusual. :)

Of course, understanding the above also makes me realize why I haven't updated the blog in awhile. And that makes me sad because after awhile I forget the little everyday stories that make life so enjoyable.

By the way, Scotland was great. :) Can't wait to go back in August. I need to get pictures up here and on Facebook. But let's be realistic - that won't happen anytime soon.

And I've decided on my contingency plan. I applied for a job with the Family Support Services on the Army base. If that works out, great...but if not, I've decided to go crazy with the bazaar circuit and do as many of those as possible while continuing with the teaching and the other odd jobs that come my way. Oh, and get the Scottish passport. We'll see how it goes...

With all the changes that have happened in my life over the last year, it was important to me to do a few things to find out who I am, take stock of where I am and ultimately where I want to be in life.

As part of that journey, I decided that a trip to Scotland would be in order. I've never been back since I was born, and since I left when I was only six months old I can't even say I remember anything about it. But throughout my life I've always had an affinity for all things Scottish...even finding myself attached to some things for no reason, only to find later they were Scottish too.

I leave tomorrow for five days. I don't really have a plan since I bought the ticket ages ago when Ryanair was having a sale and have since been working so much that the time has just flown by.

I know for sure I want to go to Dunoon at some point - the town where I was born. And though I am visiting a friend in the process, a part of me wants to make that part of the journey alone...to stand where I was when I was born. To go back to the beginning of my life as it was thirty years ago, and to acknowledge that place as the second beginning that I am going through now.

As with any life and any place it begins, Dunoon has not been without its changes either. The military base where I was born no longer exists - the water that once perhaps hosted Navy vessels is now a wharf and a tourist destination. I have a dream of sorts that I will find some dear little old man who will ply me with stories about what it looked like thirty years ago to give me an idea of where I came from...to find an approximate spot to stand on, have my picture taken, and be able to say HERE is the place that my life began.

I can't say that I really have expectations...after all my dual citizenship and recently acquired birth certificate are my only proof of my short time spent there. And yet I still feel a strong emotional connection. My hope is, I suppose, that by going back there the connection will be strengthened through sight, taste, smell and touch. I believe that I will see things that will have meaning to me - signs, perhaps, if you will - that will create a story...a dialogue for myself...a new beginning that I will begin to write as I experience it unfolding before me.

For now, though, it is time to sleep...tomorrow I look forward to touching down for the first time in the place where I was born, thirty years and a few months ago...

Christmas cards just arrived today and are in the process of being addressed to send out tomorrow. So technically they will be New Year's cards, but better late than never, which has been the state of my Christmas cards for the last....um....well....we won't say how many years.

I am still feeling sick (have been since November with plagues that keep morphing rather than just going away) and now we're hosting a Christmas dinner. I'd much rather sleep, but if I felt well I'd be really excited. But Paul is happy about having people over, and as long as we can clean in time, I will be happy about it too.

I hope the holidays are bringing everyone much joy!!!!

I was walking across the store today when another guy was walking toward me having come from the dressing rooms with some jeans on that he was trying. As I realized he was on his way to find a different size, my eyes were suddenly drawn to a flash of contrasting color.

And then I realized he hadn't bothered to do up his jeans before leaving the dressing room.

And I was looking at his crotch.

In other news, yesterday learned a new word from Paul's friend Buco:

Furopean - (n.) A very hairy European

Then he proceeded to tell me another story...he had been in the States in a Wal-Mart (sad that's where all the Europeans want to go because they can spend like rockstars there) when he and the rest of the guys split up. Some time later, when Buco hadn't come back, his friends went and talked to one of the employees and asked if they could page their friend. When she offered to do it, they explained that he didn't speak good English (a lie), and they would need to page him in Belgian. So, the girl turned over the PA to them to the guys' delight. Next thing you know, Belgian came out over the speakers. What they said was, "Will the hairiest Belgian please come to the front of the store?"

What fun...I'll have to do something in Japanese the next time I can...ha.

So a lot has happened in the last few months...I moved from Admin Clerk to supervisor at the store. I decided that I'm going to stay in Europe after the divorce. And I turned 30. Luckily, I'm thrilled about all three.

I am overjoyed about the pending arrival of my shiny new laptop. With wireless just across the street, my lunch hour will never be the same. Email at my fingertips. The ability to blog on demand. Check Facebook. Write my book. Catching up with people I haven't talked to in ages (sorry). I can't wait to get reconnected.

For what it's worth, my absence here doesn't mean I've thought of anyone less. If anything, I think of you more. Now I'll just be able to let you know that I am. Can't wait to catch up with you all. Much love.

On the first day of work, I noticed a sign that said:

"There is no SCCES without 'U'." After three weeks on the job I couldn't take it anymore and told my boss that since Day 1 that sign had been driving me crazy. Technically, I told him, the sign SHOULD say "There is no SCCES without 'US.'" My boss laughed, thankfully, but one day I'm still going to change the sign...

Today took the cake though. I had seen him making signs at one point on the copier. When I went out to do my own copying later, he had left the sign on the copier. I took it out, read it and immediately burst out laughing:

"DO NOT PUT OUT."

I knew what he meant of course. The Fall/Winter stuff that has started arriving in the warehouse isn't going on the floor anytime soon, and so he was demarcating it with tape and the signs in the back. But I took the sign to his office anyway and said, "Seriously, is this an office memo? Are we having a problem with this?"

He immediately started laughing and said that I was the only other one working that day who spoke good enough English to understand that. But five minutes later he had explained the joke to all the other employees (who are Polish and don't speak English as their first language) so everyone was in on the fun. (This was followed by a story of one of the girls who had proudly come to work saying she had been an "escort" and was shocked when the boss explained what that could mean. Then she learned a new word - "chaperone.")

Later my boss told me, "Well, it could have been worse. Originally I had 'Don't put out on the sales floor.'" Even better. Later in the afternoon I found another one he'd made saying "Don't put out until July 15th." Words to live by, my friends. Words to live by.

Later the computer tech had to stop by in the day after the warehouse computer had issues. When my boss returned he told me that the tech had said that I was no fun. When I asked him what he meant, he mentioned my comment on the signs. I immediately clarified. "Hey, I never said I didn't like the sign - I just wanted to know what I might be missing out on." Apparently there was more to my job description than meets the eye!

Speaking of job descriptions, mine might change. I have an interview tomorrow for a Department Supervisor position at the store. I would be working on the floor (you know, putting out). I am relieved it is happening tomorrow. Originally my boss had said that I was going to be learning how to do receiving of inventory in the warehouse to help with the overflow and to wear jeans and old clothes starting this past Monday. And then he said I was going to be having my interview that day as well. I told him I had never interviewed in jeans a day in my life and didn't know if I could do it now. An hour later the assistant manager called in sick and so the interview was postponed until tomorrow...when I will be back to my high-heel wearing self. What a relief.

Anyway, the new position, if I get it, would be a slight increase in hours, and a good increase in pay as a result. Some weekends are required, but flexibility is still there, which is a huge plus. My fantastic boss after all, did okay me for two trips back to back (London then Sweden, more on those later) so I know they mean it when they say it, which is nice. I'll let you know what happens.

In the meantime, I won't be putting out anytime soon.

A few days into the job, I was sitting at my desk doing the morning reports when a new cleaning guy came in (during my first couple of days it had been women). After doing some sweeping around our back areas, he came into my office with a giant container with a sprayer attached that looked like something you'd use to spray pesticide.

I was about to get up and excuse myself from the office to let him do his thing when he immediately started spraying the stuff at me. Though he was aiming for the floor, the spray had hit not only the floor, but my feet and lower legs as well. He covered the floor of the office in a matter of seconds, having sprayed me into my corner and leaving me with no means of escape.

Suddenly, I was choking on fumes. The floor around me was apparently saturated with something that was no doubt about to kill me, and I couldn't get out. I was convinced that within seconds my feet would burn off, my insides would liquify, and my breathing would slow until I collapsed on my back with twitching appendages looking like a dead, albeit fashionable, cockroach. And if that wasn't bad enough, the fumes that were going to kill me smelled like the worst kind of body odor you could imagine.

In a flash, cleaning guy and his instrument of death were gone. Naturally he had no wish to inhale the fumes and was going to leave me there to die alone. Just when I was contemplating whether or not I'd be able to have an open casket, he returned.

With a mop.

What a relief. I had not, in fact, been sprayed with pesticide, but rather with floor cleaner. As the cleaning guy scurried around the tiny office with his mop, I was left not with a burning sensation (from the pesticide, thank God), but rather a burning question:

Why would anyone choose to clean a floor with something that smelled like body odor?

I mean, I'm not saying I understand why you would want your floor to smell like pine trees, or lemons, or spring rain, either. But ANY of those choices would be far more tolerable than gagging on this Paris-in-Springtime scent. And I'm SO not talking about flowers. I'm talking about the country of fashion-forward, hygenically-backward people who you encounter on a hot train. A train where everyone is holding the rails and you are not only confronted by more armpit hair than a family of gorillas but a smell that is probably almost identical. ("Aren't you glad you used Dial? Don't you wish it was exported to France?")

Even after cleaning guy had been gone for half an hour, and there wasn't a wet spot on the floor to speak of, the stench remained. I was pondering whether or not petty cash could be used to purchase car air fresheners I could hang off my ears when a coworker came in, promptly recoiled, and then backed into the hall to talk to me from there.

"Can you please tell me why they would use a floor cleaner that smelled like BO?" I asked her. She began to laugh.

"Oh, honey," she replied. "That wasn't the floor cleaner. That was the guy."

Great. Was he French? He sounded German. But he definitely smelled French. Okay, okay, European. I know French people get the bad rap but honestly BO is a Europe-wide pandemic. EW. Just then I wondered if I could possibly pull off 'inventing' deodorant in Europe...

My dueling thoughts of revulsion and making millions were then quickly replaced by a feeling of guilt when my coworker told me that the guy was sweet, but maybe wasn't quite all there mentally. Way to be insensitive, Charlene...making fun of the handicapped. Apparently from time to time our office has to make a phone call to the head office who makes a phone call to the cleaning company who makes a phone call to the cleaning guy to issue a gentle reminder that the application of deodorant prior to one's work day is always a good idea. Nice.

A mental edict was issued then and there:
Hereafter he who puts the BO in 'boy' shall be called...BOy.

* * *

Post-Script: Since the issuance of this edict, I will say that I have not smelled BOy since. However, the name will stick. After all, as anyone in the military will tell you, a call sign that lasts a lifetime is often the result of one mistake.

Day 5 on the job and I tell my boss when he walks in my office, "Hey, we need to talk. I need to file a sexual harassment complaint."

Normally one would expect a boss to balk at such a comment, particularly from the attractive new girl (yes, so that's an assumption on my part but I can provide great references). But he has a good sense of humor so he just looks at me with a half-smile, wondering where I'm going with this.

"It's these flies," I tell him. "They've been annoying me all day. And I just saw two of them having sex on my keyboard. I feel sexually harassed."

I didn't tell him that if I wasn't getting any, then neither should they...especially in the office. But I left that part out. He was amused and then commented that he was wondering what the assistant manager (a woman) had been up to.

Still...ew. Those little guys sat on my monitor all day watching me with their wee faceted eyes rubbing their little legs together. They were LEERING at me, I tell you. Today, tolerance. But tomorrow if those sex shenanigans start again, they're getting the swatter.

As you now know, I just started a job last week. It has been a long time since I have had funny work stories to post so I'm happy to have a job that seems fraught with possibility. And so, I proudly introduce for your amusement and pleasure a little segment I like to call Work Quirks. And so we begin...

Work Quirk #1 - The Naughty British

Our manager is Canadian. The assistant manager is British. The checkers are (all, I think) Polish. The person I replaced is British. As you can imagine, many Work Quirks will emerge as a result of this cultural cornucopia. Anyway, during training, the Britishness of it all became a test in avoiding dirty giggling. In addition to the regular British-isms I love and adore, I had to try to keep a straight fact every time my predecessor said something like, "Oh, so-and-so didn't put back our hole punch. That was naughty, wasn't it?" Despite the fact that my own British vocabulary still contains the words "toe-mah-toe" and "gar-udge", I've never been able to say the word 'naughty' without thinking well, naughty things. It's an extreme either way...telling someone that they're naughty in my world implies that there is some sort of kinky costume(i.e., the ever-popular Naughty Nurse)in the vicinity...or there is a four-year-old in the need of chastisement. I just can't do it. It was all I could do to sincerely agree and say that yes indeed, that was naughty. Everything was naughty. Stealing office supplies, not filing things correctly. Not following procedure. Naughty, naughty, naughty. :) See, I can't even type it with a straight face.

Work Quirk #2 - Mailing Math
(And if there were an MTV Awards, Work Version, this one would win hands down.)

On Friday, my BPT (British Predecessor/Trainer) was still there, but I was pretty much doing everything and consulting her only as necessary. In the morning, the DHL guy showed up to pick up some returns, which were four big packages that all contained boxes of shoes that had to go back to the supplier.

DHL Guy: Guten Morgen. I pick up three boxes.
Me: Morgen. We actually have four that need to be taken.
DHL Guy: Mein papier say I take three.
Me: When we called to arrange pickup, we specified that it was for four boxes. I need you to take all four, bitte.

Rinse, repeat, for about five excruciating minutes. Finally, when I realize I will not win this battle, I go looking for BPT.

Me: So the DHL guy is here but says that he will only take three boxes, not four.
BPT: Well, it's rather naughty of him, isn't it, to not have the right information? That's fine, don't worry. We will make three boxes.
Me: So you want me to repackage two boxes into one big box?
BPT: Oh, no, that's not necessary. Just get the tape gun.
Me: Beg your pardon? (See, I do British too....)
BPT: Tape two boxes together. That will make one box. Then you will have three boxes, and he will take them. (And this was said with all seriousness, as if this was actual legitimate math happening here.)
Me: I'm sorry...but are you completely serious? (Even I had to check...forget Britishness at the seeming employment of stupidity.)
BPT: Yes. Get the tape gun.

Disbelieving, I go get the tape gun and go back to the warehouse, and proceed with all level of attempted seriousness to tape two boxes together and create one magical box. The boxes are not the same size or shape, and it is clear that there is no alternate universe that would ever acknowledge that this is somehow 'one' box. And yet, DHL Guy is in full sight, watching me do this, nodding approvingly as if I have just done quantum physics. He even picks up the boxes to help. I finish.

Me: Um....Now can you take the boxes?
DHL Guy: Ah, yes. Three boxes. I take three boxes.

Seriously? SERIOUSLY.

And he proceeds to pick up his 'three boxes' and go on his merry way. And with that, I have decided that I can now write my very own Office Space movie. We don't have TPS reports, but one day I will tell you about RPC reports...

Today after dropping Paul off for his trip to Turkey (by trip I mean TDY), I hung around base for an hour waiting for the family center to open so I could kill another hour and a half there waiting for the bank to open (the joys of living half and hour from home). I used the time to work on an order from Thailand via e-mail. It's the first time I've had the chance to order from Thailand since starting my business and I'm very excited. All the more reason to get my rear in gear with my website so everyone else can enjoy it too.

At 9:30, I went to the German bank where I got a German bank account, a requirement by the NATEX for direct deposit. It doesn't sound as cool as say, a Swiss bank account, but there it is. From there at 10:00, I went for my job orientation at the main building to sign paperwork.

Let me pause briefly to explain my job, as I don't think I did much yesterday. I am working for the NATEX, which is the Canadian equivalent of AAFES (American Armed Forces Exchange Services, which is the military retail shopping). The NATEX is a much more posh organization, though, complete with many high-end brand names and higher prices to prove it. I myself will be working in the Casual Mode, which is the clothing store, but in truth to me it is anything but (casual, I mean, not clothing...) as it carries some very nice fashion from some big names.

My job is part-time, working as the administrative assistant in the back office. I'll be processing reports, doing paperwork, answering phones, and occasionally working a register. You know, administration and assisting. ;) Nothing life-changing, but I'm actually very excited about it and hope to use the money I earn to invest more in my business which will in turn bump up my 'salary.' Which, I might add is paid in euros, not dollars (thank GOD for that!) and is not taxed by the US government. Also very cool. I start on Monday morning at 8:00. Whee! It's like the first day of school or something...

Anyway, back to orientation... I have worked in various capacities of retail for the last eight years (Ichiban most recently, Christian Bernard before that - and it all started with my very memorable time with the Baylor Bookstore - big shoutout to Judy and Clyde here!!!). But it has been awhile since I had to sign papers like the ones I did today. Or maybe ever. I'm fairly sure I never signed any forms at Christian Bernard that said "Don't steal the diamonds." It was just sort of implied, really. It seems like the Canadians don't take any such chances, though. Here is what I had to sign:

Offer of Employment - my contract. Perfectly reasonable.

Emergency Contact Information Sheet. I'm down with that.

The "Do not take bribes or gifts that are given in exchange for information about the super-secret policies of the NATEX." Apparently I'm actually working for the CIA. Cool. During the interview I was asked about my ability to handle confidential information. Noting my work at the Waco PD was an excellent illustration. I have no idea what all that will entail. And due to my excellent confidentiality abilities, neither will you. ;) But the idea of being approached with a bribe is kind of an exciting thought, like the first time I was offered drugs here. (Yes, that happened. Know what my first thought was? "WOW! I'm cool enough now that people offer me drugs?!? YES!" Lord knows that didn't happen back in my high school days.)

Next form - the "Do not eat food that from the NATEX before you pay for it" paper. Seriously? That was a problem? I don't anticipate this happening too much as I will be working in the clothing store (as opposed to the grocery). I don't eat sweaters and shoes much these days. This paper also included that I should save my receipts to prove that I did pay for the food from the NATEX that I'm eating. Wow. Oh, and I do have to pay full-price for it. Good to know. Might not have to ask about an employee discount after all.

Next form - the "You will have your last paycheck withheld until you return your uniform and/or nametag." I don't have a uniform (just a wardrobe requirement of a mix of anything black and white which I'm SO excited about as this is 3/4 of my closet.) So for me that just leaves the nametag. I was told that said nametag is worth approximately $5 (but lovely and so magnetic it was issued with a credit card proximity warning) and that I can probably pay for it if I lose it, but even so, I still had to sign.

Last form - that I did read, understand and sign all of the above forms. Excellent. I was very amused, and told my orientation guru as much.

I have to say the highlight of the hour though was being issued my 'chip.' Here comes the part where I hear myself sounding like my Dad. "You know, back in the day, we used to have these here timecards. You would show up to work and put your card in the machine and it would punch the date and time on your card and then you returned your card to its slot. Woe betide you if you forgot to punch in when you arrived, or out for lunch, etc."

Point being, I thought I was going to have a time card (another fond memory of jobs gone by...Baylor), or clock into a computer (did we do that at the PD? Don't remember...). But no, no...not at the NATEX. I have this uber-cool little red plastic thingy that is now on my keychain that I wave in front of a machine when I get to work. AND it tells me hello (the machine, not the chip, obviously, though that would be fun...like having one of those Tomogachi things...). Well, posts it on the screen, anyway. How thrilling. Of course, I understand that for the rest of you who have been living in the 'real' world for the last five years (as opposed to my more alternative lifestyle, shall we say?) that my little chippy chip was probably invented four or more years ago and I didn't get the memo. Who knows - you've probably all had them implanted in your heads by now. It's moments like this that hearken back to Stateside trips where people like Matthew and Shawn have had the pleasure of picking me up from an airport and hearing me gush about all the little things that have changed since I last was there. ("Oh my GOD - a new Doritos flavor!!!" "Um, Charlene, we've had that for about three and a half years." "But that's so COOL!") Even so, you all know that it's the little things in life that excite me, and being chipilicious is no exception. I'm sure the fact that it also looks perfectly constructed to open cans is no coincidence. This is Europe, after all. Anyway, I shall call him BoboChip, because the number on it is 3030, and that's kind of what it looks like. And just calling him Chip just isn't as creative. I know, I know. Humor me. I just feel like I have something cool. Like what people on TV shows have that you think don't actually exist. It's kind of fun, especially considering that it's in a clothing store as opposed to, say, the Jeffersonian on Bones. :) (Side note - that season finale...oh my gosh!!! So good!)

So, I have job. And a chip. And starting Monday morning, I'm sure there will be all sorts of fun non-confidentiality stories to tell. Can't wait.

I also have gobs of pictures from trip taken and stories to tell, but I'm trying to get back into the groove. So...baby steps. And for now this weekend, there is poker. Lots and lots of poker. Yippee. C-Gibby out.

So it's been awhile. I'd say sue me, but you wouldn't get a thing.

What you will get, though, if you ask nicely, is a nice new shiny update. Complete with pictures and the commentary you've learned to love. :)

So much to cover. Good thing Paul is leaving tomorrow for three weeks. Not that I'm trying to get rid of him...just that I will have that much more time to catch up here.

I'll leave you for now with a small announcement of joy...I have a job. :) I start on Monday. It's only part-time and isn't going to change the world, but I plan to invest the money I make there into my business and let it grow that way. I have also been working on my website, some new orders, and a book or two. You know me, I just can't sit still.

I am so excited. A few weeks back I was having Hedgehog Envy. :) A good friend of mine said that he had a hedgehog that lived in his backyard. I loved the idea of having my own hedgehog, but as our backyard is a little lacking in the hedge department, it didn't seem likely I would ever see one of my own.

That is, until tonight. I got home from bowling and let the dogs out straightaway while I put some things away. When I went to let them back in a few minutes later, Gen came in immediately but I could see Terumi pawing the ground. My stomach dropped, thinking she had killed a rabbit or a bird or some other form of wildlife that she loves to chase. But as I got closer I saw she was pawing at it, but not trying to eat it.

Turns out our girl is as smart as she is pretty (well, Paul would contest this I'm sure but I like to give her the benefit of the doubt). She had found her first hedgehog and at least had the good sense to know that she couldn't eat it. (And while Gen of course loves anything ball-shaped, our salad-plate-sized prickly friend was not an appealing playmate so he hadn't so much as sniffed it.)

The poor hedgehog was obviously scared to death; I was thrilled to have one in the backyard. Clearly it had not had the best welcome, so I went straight to work to rectify the situation. I had to physically remove Terumi as she refused to willingly give up her hostage. A quick Google search confirmed some age-old random biology fact in my head that dog food would be an appropriate gesture of hedgehog welcome and apology (and learned that chicken flavors are their favorites) so I immediately opened a can and put some on a plate which I took back outside.

I like to believe that I am some sort of combination of St. Francis of Assisi and Dr. Dolittle when it comes to animals, but ten minutes outside with my new little friend was not enough to coax him into showing his wee little eyes and paws. I finally relented and left the plate outside next to him, uttered profuse apologies once more, and came back inside.

I can't wait until tomorrow morning to see if he has eaten all the food. This is way better than leaving cookies out for Santa. Maybe that's what I'll call him...

Tonight I officially had my directorial debut as Absurd Person Singular opened this evening in our theater.

There are several things that I have accomplished in my life that I am particularly proud of. But what I felt tonight makes more than a few of those pale in comparison.

The only consistent thing coursing throughout the events of my life for the last several months has been this play. And when I look back, I remember that I almost didn't do it. At the time I didn't know if I could commit to it. How long I'd be here. If I'd even have the skill, the energy, the drive to take on the project with everything else going on with me at the time. But I needed something - an escape, maybe - from the reality that was my life. To a different reality...one that I could create and yet at the same time would have nothing to do with me.

I am so happy that I did.

Tonight, I saw the realization of this one running thread that has been the only constant for me since January. For months we've been rehearsing....on my good days, my bad days, my blah days. Days filled with indecision and uncertainty. Days filled with resolve and fervor. Days that were just...days.

On Monday night at the end of rehearsal, I wasn't sure how things would be come opening night. I even almost broke with tradition to call a rehearsal the next night, which is always a night off before opening night. I realized that night things that I need to realize about my life. That I need to have faith. That I need to let go.

Fortunately there was someone there to talk me off the proverbial ledge, and I didn't make a bad decision. Instead, there was relaxing. Pizza. Movie. Games.

And then there was tonight. Wow. I stood up in the balcony the entire time, never sitting, barely breathing. Watching, amazed, as this thing that had once been just scenes in my mind came to life before me and before our first audience. I have rarely felt prouder of something I have had the privilege of doing.

I wish everyone reading this could see it. Could experience it the way I did tonight. Tomorrow the judges come. We are so ready for them. But more importantly after tonight, I am more ready for myself. I have changed so much in the last several months. And not just my hair. Or the fact that I can now dance without abandon without a little liquid courage first. This remarkable experience of learning how to direct, and then actually doing it, has been the catalyst for a series of epiphanies about who I am and who I will continue to become. I am my own Absurd Person Singular.

I think it's rare for someone to be able to see so clearly a change as it's happening. I'm grateful that I've been given the opportunity. And while I don't know what the future holds, I am grateful for the presence of mind I have right now. I am grateful for the people involved in this play who have, each in their own way, contributed to my growth. I am just grateful, period.

But lest things get too serious...let me assure you that in the midst of this introspection, I also feel sheer joy. The-Hills-Are-Alive, I-Could-Have-Danced-All-Night kind of joy. The joy that comes from the unexpected...a box on a doorstep filled with flowers. An opening night that exceeds all expectations. A new passion realized. My ridiculous competitiveness. The kind of giddy, heady joy that means I will probably not fall asleep for several more hours.

I'd say I can't wait to feel it all again tomorrow night...but the truth is that I haven't stopped feeling it yet.

Some of you may remember my foray into what my life with kids might have been like when I started randomly receiving e-mails from a teacher at a private church school last August. I have spent the year being amused by e-mails about various school events, fundraisers, playtime, and other such activities that I have no knowledge of whatsoever.

However, after reaffirming yet again that I definitely don't want children (partially due to the panto and the rest just life in general), I decided it was finally time to let Miss Jill know I am a fraud and don't actually have children at King's Way. This is the e-mail I sent:

Hello Miss Jill -

I apologize for not writing sooner, but I wanted to let you know I have been receiving these e-mails in error since the school year started. In all honesty, I didn't mind because I don't have children and it was a little fun to get e-mails about my 'non-progeny' as I called it with my friends. It sounds like you all have a lot of fun and you are passionate about what you do!

Then all of a sudden it occurred to me that 1) you must think that I was the most uninvolved parent ever since I've never responded to your e-mails or attended any functions and 2) there might be an actual parent of one of your children that you haven't been in contact with because you have been thinking it was me. At that point, I felt really terrible and realized I should write!

So, I hope that this helps in figuring out whose parent maybe isn't getting the e-mails (myself and 'husband' Anthony Bancel, it seems) and that soon everyone will be getting the proper information they need. Again, my sincerest apologies for not letting you know sooner - I do hope you have been in contact with the Bancels by other means than e-mail.

I hope you enjoy the rest of the school year and that your students have a great appreciation for all the time and effort you obviously put into their education and learning experience. I wish you all the best.

Kindest Regards,
Charlene Gibson

I hope her feelings aren't hurt. Maybe she will be amused. Maybe not. Either way, it will probably help to explain a lot.

In other news, I just returned from Belgium late last night where I attended the SHAPE (a NATO base about two hours away from here) bazaar. It was incredibly successful, and by far the best bazaar experience I've ever had the pleasure of being a part of. I am SO upset that I totally forgot to take pictures of my space and setup. It was extraordinary and would have been perfect to put up on a website I have yet to develop. Anyway, it was a great event with the exception that I have been ridiculously sick and woke up the first day of the event with no voice whatsoever. But between copious amounts of whispering and very patient customers and volunteers, everything went VERY well.

I am also thrilled to report that after a year and a half of trying, I FINALLY weaseled my way into the Spangdahlem bazaar. Some of you may remember the post I did here about the trip complete with the YouTube video with pictures of the massive event. I have been wanting to be a part of it ever since I arrived. It is THE bazaar in the area...two flight hangars chock full of vendors. I am told (and believe, based on my visits and inability to have my business card get to the right person three times in succession) that it will not be the vendor-friendly experience that the SHAPE one was, and in some ways I am dreading it hoping that the cost of participating ($100 per space plus 15% of whatever I make) will be offset by extraordinary revenue. But, it's worth a shot, and I think I'm going to get some new stuff in STAT so that I can replenish some of my stock that I sold this weekend. That will also include a quick trip to Turkey, I hope, to get some stuff there along with whatever else I can get my hands on in the next month.

The downside of being at Spangdahlem is that I had hoped to go back to the States for the end of April. As the bazaar is the 18th-20th, that totally cuts out my trip, which I had hoped to do from the 11th-23rd. I'm hoping I'll be able to work something out for another time, but the timing and reasoning for going back at this point was very specific and so the chance is lost based on those circumstances.

Last bit of news - the play continues to develop remarkably well. I am SO proud of what we have achieved so far. The show goes on in the beginning of April, and we are being adjudicated on the second night. While at SHAPE I talked to some people involved in the their theater program. They have it much better than we do - 5 productions a year, a paid director position, and a theatre that is their very own. We do three (four if you count the panto, but...), everything is volunteer/for fun, and we have to share our space with the movie theater (and even then technically, they share with us). After the judges come on the second night, we will hopefully be up for some Topper awards, and we'll be going down to Heidelberg for our red carpet (I wish!) gala. ;)

Well, I think that about catches me up on what's going on here. Oh, and Paul started a blog too. I'm so excited for him...you can check it out by going to the links on the left here. After me bugging him about it forever, he finally decided to get one started. I think it's going to be great and will give you all another perspective on our new life journeys. And thank goodness, that means that eventually I will be relieved of some of my secretarial duties after the divorce and his family will still know where to find him. ;)

*If you didn't get the subject line 'End of an Era-r' it was my play on 'End of an Error.' I thought it worked, but maybe not. :)

1.) I must really be sick, because I baked today. I think I must have been given a parting gift from the panto kids that I spent the last five days with.

2.) In the course of baking, I pulled three eggs out of a carton from Veggie Man, one of which had chicken butt feathers still stuck to it and I didn't even flinch. Does this mean I have been in the country for too long?

The day was slow considering I am feeling ick. When I shared the above observations with some friends earlier today, one of them left a care package that included soup, green tea, Theraflu and Pepsi Light and then texted me to check outside when I woke up. So sweet. It was the best tomato soup I think I've ever had.

I'm so excited! We got some phone calls last night from people who said they had seen Paul on AFN (Armed Forces Network). He had been interviewed in San Diego about the NATO AWACS plane from Geilenkirchen that participated in JTFEX in San Diego. The video report is currently airing through AFN's Europe (and we think also Pacific) regions, while the article below, where he was interviewed more extenively, is on the Navy's website. The link for the video report will not open in a new window, so you can read the article first and then go or come back after. Anyway, Paul did a great job so check it out and then send him props! GO NAVY!

NATO Deploys AWACS Aircraft to Support Joint Task Force Exercise
Story Number: NNS080201-03
Release Date: 2/1/2008 8:49:00 AM


By Mass Communication Specialist 1st Class (SW/AW) Bill Larned, Fleet Public Affairs Center, Pacific

NORTH ISLAND, Calif. (NNS) -- A NATO Airborne Early Warning and Control System (AWACS) E-3A aircraft from the NATO AWACS Geilenkirchen Air Base in Germany is temporarily in San Diego to participate in Joint Task Force Exercise (JTFEX 03-08).

On Jan. 30, the E-3A aircraft participated in JTFEX 03-08 to defend the Abraham Lincoln Strike Group from a simulated air attack.

Lt. Paul Gibson is a weapons system operator aboard the aircraft and one of seven Navy personnel serving with NATO AWACS.

"There are a total of 29 operating positions in the E-3A," said Gibson. "Operator tasks range from weapons control to surveillance, which aid the strike group by contributing to the Link 11 and Link 16 picture."

The 153-foot-long aircraft is outfitted with a dish-shaped rotodome, similar in appearance to an E-2C Hawkeye. It is equipped with cutting-edge technology, including large aircraft infrared countermeasures that have sensors and a laser system to detect and destroy inbound missiles.

"The E-3A also uses an improved radar system that the NATO air crew has received extensive training to use," Gibson explained. "The plane just got some recent electronic upgrades, and we're using a whole new operating system."

Petra Prem, a service member from Vesprem, Hungary, with a rank equivalent to a chief petty officer is another member of the 12 participating NATO AWACS countries.

Prem noted that working for a NATO command provides unique opportunities to meet military members from different countries.

"For me personally, working for NATO is rewarding because I don't have a lot of opportunities to travel in my own country," Prem said. "Once you get a NATO assignment, the world opens up for you."

Gibson added, "Working with the U.S. Air Force as well as with service members from other countries, I've learned about the benefits of interoperability, and that means seeing how other nations conduct operations, share corporate knowledge and even learn new techniques from one another."

The 12 participating NATO nations include: U.S., Norway, Italy, Germany, Spain, Belgium, Canada, Denmark, Greece, the Netherlands, Turkey and Hungary.

Among the exercise missions supported by the AWACS are maritime interdiction, close-air support and combat search-and-rescue training. The AWACS deployment to San Diego also represents the first deployment of an upgraded NATO mid-term AWACS aircraft to the U.S. The E-3A AWACS aircraft is the most modern airborne early warning and control aircraft in the world.

The E-3A crew represents the only multinational military flying unit in the world. The NATO AWACS command is a key element of the NATO Response Force and has deployed AWACS and cargo aircraft around the world in support of world leadership events and humanitarian operations, including Hurricane Katrina and Pakistan earthquake relief. The command also sent AWACS aircraft to the U.S., in response to the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks.

Last night was the Carnival party on base. It was for 'women's day' - a day where women are supposed to get whatever they want in general and have a really good time. On the base, things shut down at around 11:00 in the morning in order to begin celebrating (read: drinking). If guys are seen with ties, women cut them off. If guys show up with patches on their jackets or flight suits, they are torn off and stolen. Everyone gets dressed up in costumes and has a great time. Last night was one of the BEST parties I have been to.

We didn't do any Carnival parties last year, so I was excited to be going with Annia and Dani to this party. We had been trying to come up with costume ideas when Annia came up with the brilliant idea to go as airline stewardesses. We scoured the Carnival costume shops for more than a week before she and Dani found the perfect outfits. Major tailoring for me later (which resulted in the great idea from the guy working there that we should say we worked for Virgin Airlines, the one thing we hadn't thought of), we all got dressed up, met at Dani's room on the base, and then headed over where we found our pilot, Jeff (Dani's husband).

There are no words to describe the amount of attention we got all night long. We strode in perky and prim with our matching outfits, bags, and my rolling carry-on that I had stuffed with almost a hundred small bags of pretzels to pass out. We were an IMMEDIATE hit. The women wanted to be us, the men wanted to dance with us.

I mean, looking like this, how could they resist?



Here we are with our pilot, Jeff, who was the envy of all the other guys at the party:



Here I am with Rob, Jennifer and Mary. Mary was Clairee in Steel Magnolias which is how we became friends. Jennifer is Mary's niece, who came over during that time after graduating from college - and while here she met Rob and they have now been dating for almost a year. Jennifer and I also have the same birthday, and she and Rob are on our sucktastic bowling team. Rob and Jennifer won best costume at another party they'd been to earlier in the week - and Mary was supposed to be a stewardess with us but she is so tall that the costume didn't fit so she came as a flapper instead:



Rudy, in the middle, was our designated bodyguard. She is active duty and knows all the guys so she was alternatively pimping us out for pictures with all her guy friends that asked her to as well as keeping us away from the scary ones that asked if they could join the Mile High Club (though she was nowhere to be seen when Annia and I were trying to avoid the guy who wanted to know how many frequent flyer miles he could get for 'banging a stewardess' - sorry, guy, pretty sure that's not how that works).



Here we are with Scott, who is one of the guys from our poker group.



Here we are with Paul's boss:



And here I am with Paul's boss checking out my girls while Ron sports his authentic gear from his deployment to Afghanistan...he brought back his wife a burka but they couldn't get a sitter so she couldn't make it. That would have been...interesting.



Rudy and Rudy's boss...for some reason lots of guys like to cross-dress for Carnival.



Me, Rudy, Pleather Nun Sylvie and Annia:



More of the poker gang...Jeff and Ang and Suzanne and Scott:



Me and the girls:



The party venue...



Now, coming from the place where I am soon to be single and will one day re-enter the dating world, this was a VERY good night for my ego in terms of reaffirming that at this point in my life, I am the best I have ever been. I spent the entire night as an international conquest - I was whisked from dance to dance (oh my GOD how I danced!) and fought over in particular by an Italian, a German AND a Belgian. Lucky me. :)

Annia and I with the Italian 'girls' and the Italian guy...there were three (I think this is a) Monsignor(s) but the Italian was by far the most authentic...



Perhaps one of my favorite things was just talking to these guys while we were dancing - not only because of their great accents, but because it was SO fun to hear them saying all those typical European things. I was reminded of Diane Lane in Under the Tuscan Sun where she meets the Italian who says he wants to swim in her eyes and she replies that that's 'just the thing American girls expect Italian men to say.' It was comical because these guys are SO European...the Belgian asked me what I did and I told him I had an imports business. He wanted to know if I could import love. I told him it was expensive. The Italian kept saying things like 'you are my belissima angel.' I couldn't help but laugh. Annia and Dani and I enjoyed all the attention all night long.

At one point we sat down on the table to take another picture together...this one:



Suddenly, we were holding court while everyone kept coming over to have their picture taken with us. It was SO much fun!!! We couldn't get over how big a hit the costumes were. Apparently we have single-handedly replaced the male schoolgirl fantasy with that of the airline stewardess. And with nametags that said "Virgin Airlines Welcome Aboard!" and Dani saying "Flight 69, Non-Stop Service!" the entire night we were quite popular.

Us having our way with our pilot. :)



The Good Doctor, me, and the Italian:



J came by after class to say hi so she jumped in for a picture with her little hot self.



Apparently I wouldn't recognize Lenny Kravitz on the street, but when a guy who walked by said "Hey - Lenny Kravitz!" I figured out that's who we had been talking to...you be the judge.



This is the Belgian I was talking about earlier. He and his two Belgian friends were all very tall. Here he had offered to take the price tag off the bottom of my shoe that I hadn't been able to remove and was attempting it. He was my favorite person that I danced with all night because he had mad skillz.





After this



became this



(don't worry - we're all an affectionate bunch - it's the European thing) I thought I should hook up Pleather Nun Sylvie with this guy:



but only managed to make the Italian sad that he didn't have a picture like that which resulted in this:



This was a really funny story - this is the shirt that Jeff and another of his friends had on:



I thought he was security for the party, so when a fight was about to break out between a lamb and a chicken (I'm not kidding) I tried to find Jeff to break it up, assuming that's why he was there. I found Angela...."Hurry - get Jeff - we need him to break up a fight!" To which Angela started laughing and said, "That's his costume." We died laughing for the next ten minutes because I'd fully believed there was security at the party. Obligingly Jeff for fun went over and placated the lamb and all was good.

We had arrived around seven and stayed until the party stopped at midnight, at which point we took the provided bus to a club in Geilenkirchen nearby. After boarding the bus and demonstrating to the passengers where the nearest exits were (in some cases, behind you), I headed to the back of the bus for an empty seat where the Germans and Belgians spontaneously broke out into song, singing "There she was just a-walking down the street singing doo wa diddy diddy dum diddy do...she looked good, she looked fine etc etc" - for the next few minutes. It was so Top Gun it was hilarious.

This is me with the German, who Rudy has claimed as her 'potential future husband.' Good choice...he was nice. It was funny to listen to he and the Belgian (who was in the window seat of the other side of the same row as us) trading cultural insults in an attempt to win the heart (or at least dancing privileges) with the stewardess.



Annia sat next to Ronnie, who is a guy I met at the poker tournament.
This is not the best picture of Ronnie, but I mention him here because he has an amazing voice that I can listen to all day long. The smoker/Southern Drawl/Oklahoma boy accent is absolutely to die for. I don't care what he's talking about as long as he's talking. It's so sexy. He's married to Amy, the secretary at the elementary school and they know Norm, Annia's husband. Anyway, Ronnie.



Anyway, so the bus finally got to the club. It had a couple of different rooms - one with techno-type music and the other with more pop. We went back and forth between the two. As it turned out the Italian from earlier had gone there too in his own car/taxi. And though I had been seated next to the German on the way, I was escorted off the bus and promptly confiscated by the Belgian, who I ended up dancing with most of the rest of the night. For the first time ever, Annia and Dani and Rudy sat while I did most of the dancing. The Belgian was a really good dancer and kept telling me that I was, but the truth was he was so good that it was very easy to follow. We had a blast all night long.

Dani called it a night around two...but Annia and I stayed until almost five. Rudy insisted on staying with us for our protection (she rocks!) and two of the other American guys from the party hung out until we all decided to leave.

I was on my way with Rudy, Annia and Skip to share a cab back when I realized my house keys were in the tote bag in Dani's room, so I ended up crashing at Annia's place (she had left her keys in the suitcase so we had to wake poor Norm to let us in) for a few hours until Dani and Jeff were heading back home. They graciously stopped by, picked me up and then Jeff brought me back home (fortunately in terms of German villages we're practically neighbors so it wasn't hugely out of the way).

Here is where I send a MAJOR shoutout to my sweet babies, who despite the fact had to go for 16 hours without a potty break did not leave me any presents or other signs of resentment at being temporarily abandoned. They are the greatest dogs...I expressed my thanks by sharing some pot roast with them for our lunch. :)

Anyway, last night was SO much fun and I definitely will never forget it - and apparently there are a lot of people (and pictures) to prove that a lot of people won't forget us. ;) I definitely think I'm going to have to throw a Carnival party next year in the States. You won't want to miss it!

Thank you for flying Virgin Airlines. Bye-bye now!

If you are having a bad day, go to this site. As I just told my cousin...if you don't laugh/awwwww/weep with joy after this one you just have no soul.

Enjoy:

http://www.linein.org/media/screenclean.swf

I just got this fabulous e-mail from Baylor Proud saying that last night, Baylor beat A&M 116-110. Now, if that wasn't cool enough, they did two amazing things:

1.) Won the game in QUINTUPLE OVERTIME
2.) Set a record for the longest game in Big XII history

WOW! You can read more on ESPN's website if you're interesting. But seriously, HOW COOL is that???

One of the token symbols of military life in Germany is the ration card. When we arrived, we were given two - one for gas that also doubles as our vehicle registration, and another that covers purchases of alcohol, tobacco, and of all things, coffee. I don't understand the coffee aspect because it's a ration on things like Folgers. Now, I don't drink coffee, but I'm sure it's a safe bet to say that when one is in Europe, there are far superior coffee choices than Folgers from the Commissary. Anyway, I digress...

Different bases have different policies with the gas ration card. At GK, you take your card in first, then pump, then pay. At Schinnen, you pump first, then take your ration card in with you when you pay. The latter will seem like the smarter option even to you after I tell you this story.

Paul drove my car the entire time I was gone. After I got back, I drove the van because Paul didn't like the lack of visibility out the back since I still have all my business stuff in there. So, although he says he hates my car, he preferred to drive it.

Anyway, I don't remember why, but one day I was able to drive my car for the first time in forever. And I needed to get gas. I also had to get groceries at Schinnen, so I decided to fill up there as well.

There was a huge line for the pumps, so while I waited I got out my ID, check card and ration card - all the things I would need when I was done. I took out my ration card and immediately noticed - this was not my card. Sure enough, when I looked at the name, there was nothing that remotely looked like Gibson.

I wasn't sure what to do - I needed gas, but this wasn't my card. Would they notice when I took it in? If you're military, you're laughing right now. Of course they didn't notice. Neither had Paul. Neither did the GK people when I filled up there. I actually tested this - first subtly when I handed them my ID, THEN the card. Nope. Another time, I had my ID card with my name laying on top of the ration card RIGHT next to the wrong name. Still nothing. I could be using up someone else's gas for the next six months and they would have absolutely no idea. Crazy.

After entertaining myself with this for a few fillups, I decided to see how much effort it would take to right the wrong. And I'll admit I wasn't happy doing this job because a) it wasn't me who had taken the wrong gas card in the first place and b) paperwork, military and efficient NEVER happen in the same breath, especially where NATO is concerned. After all, this is the place that has fond nicknames like "NATO: Nothing After Two O'Clock" and "Needs Americans To Operate." So there was actually a big chance that no matter what I did, I would not be able to fix this.

Thus began the hunt to try to get my gas ration card back. First I called the vehicle office who handles all the paperwork. Instead of oh, say, looking in the computer under the name and vehicle number I provided to get a phone number to call, the guy told me to call Security instead. Fine. I call Security. Very Nice American Security Guy (and by far the most helpful in this process) takes my numbers and offers to call the guy for me and pass on the information. Here's where it gets impressive: HE CALLED ME BACK an hour later to tell me that the guy was flying and wouldn't be able to get back in touch with me today, AND that HE would call again tomorrow, because he didn't trust any of the European guys to take care of it. Get out. Tunnel. Light.

A couple of days go by and I haven't heard anything, so I assume that it's been forgotten (no surprise there). Just as I was about to start over again, I came home to a message on my machine from a very nice-sounding woman named Elizabeth who also hadn't noticed that the cards had been switched and to let her know when would be a good time to change them out. SHE HAD ACTUALLY GOTTEN THE MESSAGE. This means that Very Nice American Security Guy did call Card Guy back the day after his flight. Card Guy called Card Wife. Card Wife called me. Seriously, the successful sequence of events regarding a NATO mission is mindboggling. I was thoroughly impressed. And if you were here, and heard the stories I have about how things (don't) get done around NATO, trust me, you'd be impressed to.

But that's not the end of this very cool story. It actually gets BETTER. It was late when I got back that night, so I didn't call back, and yesterday I'd forgotten completely. So this morning, since I know I will be doing running around this afternoon, I call her and ask how late her husband works, thinking I can meet him on base before I go to rehearsal.

She tells me that she actually has it, and offers to meet me on base intead. Now, I hate having to run to base for only one thing since it's a half hour away, and I didn't want to do that to her. I thought, maybe, just maybe, I will be lucky and it will be somewhere on the way to one of my errands. I take a breath.

"Well, where do you live? I might be able to just come by and change it out with you if you want," I tell her.

She replies, "I live in Haaren."

GET OUT. That's MY village. As it turns out, she literally lives one street over from me. That is wild. At the most, it will take me five minutes to get to her house, depending on which end of the street she is on.

So, of all the hundreds of American service people who live all over this tri-border area that my ration card could have been switched with on a base half an hour from here, I get the one of someone who lives in my same village.

That is SO cool. NATO (Nails A Terrific Outcome) succeeds! Good deed prevails. Everyone is happy. Awesome. Remind me to send a thank-you note to God, or karma, or whatever benevolent form just smiled upon me.