Well, folks, it is official--we attended the infamous Flag Day today at the Foreign Service Institute. A fabulous ceremony if there ever was one--rarely has a place been packed with so much tension and neurotic laughter, while the Fledgling Diplomats and their enthusiastic spouses were awaiting to hear where they will be sent to serve.
Do you know where Dhaka is? It's in Bangladesh and that is precisely where we will be going next June so that the Diplomat can be a consular officer for the following two years. I cannot say anything about it yet because I don't know much about it. Do you?? I will, however, be studying Bengali soon. How ironic (if you look at my post from yesterday...). I suspect I need to equip myself with boots. I believe though, now that I am finally writing this "out loud" and the adrenalin from the day is subsiding, that I am getting quite excited. I will tell you all about Flag Day tomorrow--it's a neat event.
In another piece of great news, after a couple of interviews today, I got a temp job, which will hopefully keep me occupied before we go to "the Desh" as it is apparently very fashionable to call it these days.
Now, I am going to retire with a large martini after this major roller coaster of a day and contemplate life in SE Asia.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Shoveling gravel and biting girls
You don't know what physical labor is until you shovel some gravel under the hot sun. I know. I did some serious shoveling today. Then I used a sledge hammer to hammer some stakes in the ground. I love Habitat for Humanity. Especially since two fascinated male youths (about 20 years old each) stood there, staring and gawking for over half an hour next to me while I was shoveling the gravel for deserving, low-income families. I admit that at some point I had a strong urge to go and smack one of them on the behind with the shovel. Instead, I rather tersely asked them to move. They left, shaking their heads in disbelief. Later in the day, it took 5 of us to construct a square from four long 2-by-4 pieces of lumber. Let me give you a hint--it would take one person 10 mins to do the same. It took us 15 mins, but the sense of camaraderie that exercise fostered? Priceless!
Life has been pretty monotonous here in Arlington, VA. Of course, things are about to be seriously shaken up by Flag Day tomorrow--stay tuned to learn where we will be posted! Last night I went out with fellow spouses of Fledgling Diplomats. We had quite the blast and spent the night discussing the ends of our own careers, rearing many children to come and the life-long benefits of learning Bengali.
In other news, Son has bitten a girl in daycare. This is a problem. Even though he does it as a gesture of ultimate affection (I think he considers it a kiss...). So, we spent the evening repeating--"Biting-bad! Biting--bad!," at which point Fat Cat rolled its eyes and went to fume on the balcony. Fat Cat does NOT think that biting is bad. I have the marks to prove it.
Life has been pretty monotonous here in Arlington, VA. Of course, things are about to be seriously shaken up by Flag Day tomorrow--stay tuned to learn where we will be posted! Last night I went out with fellow spouses of Fledgling Diplomats. We had quite the blast and spent the night discussing the ends of our own careers, rearing many children to come and the life-long benefits of learning Bengali.
In other news, Son has bitten a girl in daycare. This is a problem. Even though he does it as a gesture of ultimate affection (I think he considers it a kiss...). So, we spent the evening repeating--"Biting-bad! Biting--bad!," at which point Fat Cat rolled its eyes and went to fume on the balcony. Fat Cat does NOT think that biting is bad. I have the marks to prove it.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Petting lambs and playing Taboo
Another wild weekend in Arlington, VA is over. In just two short days we managed to squeeze in pool, geese, BBQ, camels, groceries, several particularly involved tantrums, two thrift stores, feeding lambs from a milk bottle, two study group sessions, four fried catfish, friends, friends and more friends and a feisty game of Taboo! Phew, thank God it's Monday :).
On Saturday, our good Italian partners in crime M&M and their son E came for a night of BBQ and some pool time. Son tossed an irritating amount of his cars in the swimming pool, which meant that the Diplomat had to keep undressing and go into the somewhat chilly water to retrieve them. He still managed to tend to the grill in the meantime, for which we are eternally grateful. We finished the night with an awesome game of Taboo--the Diplomat did fairly well but I am a bit disappointed that he did not guess who I meant when I said "...naked on a cold day!" Do YOU know who I mean???
Sunday found us wondering what to do with ourselves when I had the brilliant idea to find a petting zoo for Son. After 3 mins of thorough Internet research, we found the Reston Zoo, advertised as a "wild animal zoo." Hoping for some serious lion chasing, we called our new friends from the FSO (we'll just call them the Hawaiians) and their two adorable kids.. Well, there were no lions, but the kids spent a blissful one hour feeding lambs and goats and all kinds of other bleeting critters that I am unfamiliar with. I fed a few lambs myself until one big goat mama tried to nibble on my skirt at which point I called it quits. The Hawaiians' little girl was gracious enough to help out with Son--she carefully held his hand and gently but firmly guided him in the right direction at the farm. Thank you!
Among the sheep and bulls and pigs and similar kinds of typical farm cattle we also saw, somewhat surprised, two zebras (one of which thinks she is a goat) and two camels. I suppose that was the "wild" part of the zoo. They did not allow us to pet them, which gravely disappointed me.
This week is marked by one VERY key event: on Friday, we hear where the good ol' State Department has decided that it wants us to spend the next 2 years of our lives. Stay tuned....
On Saturday, our good Italian partners in crime M&M and their son E came for a night of BBQ and some pool time. Son tossed an irritating amount of his cars in the swimming pool, which meant that the Diplomat had to keep undressing and go into the somewhat chilly water to retrieve them. He still managed to tend to the grill in the meantime, for which we are eternally grateful. We finished the night with an awesome game of Taboo--the Diplomat did fairly well but I am a bit disappointed that he did not guess who I meant when I said "...naked on a cold day!" Do YOU know who I mean???
Sunday found us wondering what to do with ourselves when I had the brilliant idea to find a petting zoo for Son. After 3 mins of thorough Internet research, we found the Reston Zoo, advertised as a "wild animal zoo." Hoping for some serious lion chasing, we called our new friends from the FSO (we'll just call them the Hawaiians) and their two adorable kids.. Well, there were no lions, but the kids spent a blissful one hour feeding lambs and goats and all kinds of other bleeting critters that I am unfamiliar with. I fed a few lambs myself until one big goat mama tried to nibble on my skirt at which point I called it quits. The Hawaiians' little girl was gracious enough to help out with Son--she carefully held his hand and gently but firmly guided him in the right direction at the farm. Thank you!
Among the sheep and bulls and pigs and similar kinds of typical farm cattle we also saw, somewhat surprised, two zebras (one of which thinks she is a goat) and two camels. I suppose that was the "wild" part of the zoo. They did not allow us to pet them, which gravely disappointed me.This week is marked by one VERY key event: on Friday, we hear where the good ol' State Department has decided that it wants us to spend the next 2 years of our lives. Stay tuned....
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Habitat for Humanity and the Retreat
The Diplomat went to a class overnight retreat this morning--the Fledgling Diplomats are having a sleepover in a place mysteriously called "The Woods." I wonder if it is in the woods? I am not sure what they are doing there, but I know for sure that there are Follies and a great bar (the Diplomat just called me from a basketball court (???) to tell me that "the party is just staring!)" So, if any of you ever wondered how diplomats get prepared for their crucially important careers, it is through Follies and overnight partying in the woods. Shocking.
I am not sure I have mentioned this, but the Fledgling Diplomats have happy hours almost every night. Thusly, I have taken a semi-offended stance on the subject and have started organizing the spouses and partners languishing in Washington, DC for a happy hour next week. We also need to prepare for our careers in the Foreign Service, you know.
Today I went for a day of volunteering at Habitat for Humanity in NE Washington. The day could not have started worse, really. I knew that traffic would be horrendous, so to make it there by 8 am, I wanted to start as early as possible. Then the Diplomat tells me he cannot take Son to daycare because the Magical Mystery Tour bus to the Woods leaves super early in the morning. He leaves after waking me up 46 times to ask me various inane questions regarding the location of his socks, and similar personal effects or to bang pots and pans and coffee mugs in the kitchen and I am pretty sure there was a bull there this morning that went through my formal china at some point. He finally leaves and 6 mins later my alarm goess off. Cranky as hell, I get up and try to print the Liability Release form for Habitat. Naturally, my printer would not print. No clue why. Just because.
Then I wake up Son, who is very excited to see me and his numerous cars. The problem is, he is unwilling to part with them in order to get dressed. He proceeds to have a tantrum and in the process butts me with his head on the right temple. I think I might have passed out for a sec. Dressed one way or the other, we run out of the door. The stroller is in the car so I am carrying him in my arms during the elevator ride to the garage. Once there, I cannot find my car. I run up and down the stuffy, humid underground passages, dressed in long jeans, sneakers and a T-shirt (rather than a barely there minidress, which is what I usually wear in hot DC), because of my Habitat work. 15 mins later, I realize that the Diplomat had taken the car out for an errand the previous night and did not tell me where he parked it. I make several frantic calls and finally an audibly excited voice informs me that he is already on the Party Bus and the car is 35 levels or so further down in the garage. Hurling copious amounts of profanities in his direction and teaching Son to say, "Daddy is bad," I find the wretched vehicle and swimming in sweat, drive off to the daycare. I dash inside to leave Son, only to be stopped by the flegmatic guard at the door who demands to see an ID. With blood-shot eyes, I run back into the car, bring the blasted ID and burst into the classroom 20 mins later than I had intended. Son decides that I am leaving him forever, so he clutches at me with every fiber of his body. The daycare lady unglues him from me and I leave over his screams for dear life. Wow. With a morose expression, I drive off to serve the public.
Now, Son is in bed, and I have some nice, quiet time. I need it. Goodnight, Ballston.
I am not sure I have mentioned this, but the Fledgling Diplomats have happy hours almost every night. Thusly, I have taken a semi-offended stance on the subject and have started organizing the spouses and partners languishing in Washington, DC for a happy hour next week. We also need to prepare for our careers in the Foreign Service, you know.
Today I went for a day of volunteering at Habitat for Humanity in NE Washington. The day could not have started worse, really. I knew that traffic would be horrendous, so to make it there by 8 am, I wanted to start as early as possible. Then the Diplomat tells me he cannot take Son to daycare because the Magical Mystery Tour bus to the Woods leaves super early in the morning. He leaves after waking me up 46 times to ask me various inane questions regarding the location of his socks, and similar personal effects or to bang pots and pans and coffee mugs in the kitchen and I am pretty sure there was a bull there this morning that went through my formal china at some point. He finally leaves and 6 mins later my alarm goess off. Cranky as hell, I get up and try to print the Liability Release form for Habitat. Naturally, my printer would not print. No clue why. Just because.
Then I wake up Son, who is very excited to see me and his numerous cars. The problem is, he is unwilling to part with them in order to get dressed. He proceeds to have a tantrum and in the process butts me with his head on the right temple. I think I might have passed out for a sec. Dressed one way or the other, we run out of the door. The stroller is in the car so I am carrying him in my arms during the elevator ride to the garage. Once there, I cannot find my car. I run up and down the stuffy, humid underground passages, dressed in long jeans, sneakers and a T-shirt (rather than a barely there minidress, which is what I usually wear in hot DC), because of my Habitat work. 15 mins later, I realize that the Diplomat had taken the car out for an errand the previous night and did not tell me where he parked it. I make several frantic calls and finally an audibly excited voice informs me that he is already on the Party Bus and the car is 35 levels or so further down in the garage. Hurling copious amounts of profanities in his direction and teaching Son to say, "Daddy is bad," I find the wretched vehicle and swimming in sweat, drive off to the daycare. I dash inside to leave Son, only to be stopped by the flegmatic guard at the door who demands to see an ID. With blood-shot eyes, I run back into the car, bring the blasted ID and burst into the classroom 20 mins later than I had intended. Son decides that I am leaving him forever, so he clutches at me with every fiber of his body. The daycare lady unglues him from me and I leave over his screams for dear life. Wow. With a morose expression, I drive off to serve the public.
Now, Son is in bed, and I have some nice, quiet time. I need it. Goodnight, Ballston.
Monday, August 16, 2010
The UAB is here!
I am happy to report that the precious 600 lbs of craptastic domestic goods I was so eagerly expecting is finally here. It took ONLY 2.5 weeks to get it from NYC to Arlington, VA. I suspect they were pushing it along the highway on tiny trolleys. All seems to be well, except for one box whether a massive bag of powdered sugar had spilled, along with a box of Splenda (it is almost as if the two sugars were trying to outdo each other). Now, 1/3 of my possessions are covered with a fine film of sweet white dust. Fat Cat is beyond himself with excitement--he has spent the day wallowing and darting through the massive heaps of discarded brown packing paper.
To understand how the whole Foreign Service packing process works, I am going to share with you what fellow FSO wife wrote to me today: "Well the UAB is here, and even though the invoice said 5 boxes, and there were indeed 5 boxes, we are missing some of my shoes and our fan. Thank God they packed a trash can with trash included, I am sure we would have missed that very much." Yes, we FSO wives are a funny lot.
The bid list is ready and is a mixed bag of posts whose name no one has ever heard of and exotic locations that sound very cool on paper but apparently endure 6 months of nonstop rain or blistering heat. Either way, fun will be had. By some. We will know the results on August 27th.
Son has calmed down considerably. Drop off at daycare was quite good today and he threw only one notable tantrum the entire evening. He did proceed to eat a dinner of Wheat Thins (courtesy of the great parenting skills of the Diplomat) only. I can't blame him--only three nights ago I did precisely the same, with the added bonus of ginger ale. These things are viciously addictive.
In other rather underwhelming news, I have a work interview tomorrow for a legal temp agency. I realized that while I had packed in my limited allowance very useful clothes like my skiing jacket and a neat selection of flip-flops, I had forgotten to pack any work suits. So, at 5 pm today I made a mad dash for Macy's across the street--Macy's has everything and I always find what I need there. Until now, in NYC, at 34th street. Not in Ballston, VA. Here I found a startling selection of brown pant suits with red floral jackets, starting at size 14w, along with a series of austere black suits in petite, starting at size 18. At the verge of a nervoius breakdown, I found a lonely Calvin Klein suit rack, where I managed to get a skirt in my size, but the smallest jacket was two sizes larger. Due to is impeccable tailoring, however, and out of sheer desperation, I bought it only to be informed by the sullen, indifferent sales person that the suit goes on sale tomorrow at noon. My interview is at 11 am. I did ask if I can get the discount if I show up then(some stores have that policy), but she looked at me as if I had bunnies jumping out of my hair and gave me a firm and disgusted "No." So, at any rate, cross your fingers. For the interview, not the discount. Well, for the discount too, I guess!
To understand how the whole Foreign Service packing process works, I am going to share with you what fellow FSO wife wrote to me today: "Well the UAB is here, and even though the invoice said 5 boxes, and there were indeed 5 boxes, we are missing some of my shoes and our fan. Thank God they packed a trash can with trash included, I am sure we would have missed that very much." Yes, we FSO wives are a funny lot.
The bid list is ready and is a mixed bag of posts whose name no one has ever heard of and exotic locations that sound very cool on paper but apparently endure 6 months of nonstop rain or blistering heat. Either way, fun will be had. By some. We will know the results on August 27th.
Son has calmed down considerably. Drop off at daycare was quite good today and he threw only one notable tantrum the entire evening. He did proceed to eat a dinner of Wheat Thins (courtesy of the great parenting skills of the Diplomat) only. I can't blame him--only three nights ago I did precisely the same, with the added bonus of ginger ale. These things are viciously addictive.
In other rather underwhelming news, I have a work interview tomorrow for a legal temp agency. I realized that while I had packed in my limited allowance very useful clothes like my skiing jacket and a neat selection of flip-flops, I had forgotten to pack any work suits. So, at 5 pm today I made a mad dash for Macy's across the street--Macy's has everything and I always find what I need there. Until now, in NYC, at 34th street. Not in Ballston, VA. Here I found a startling selection of brown pant suits with red floral jackets, starting at size 14w, along with a series of austere black suits in petite, starting at size 18. At the verge of a nervoius breakdown, I found a lonely Calvin Klein suit rack, where I managed to get a skirt in my size, but the smallest jacket was two sizes larger. Due to is impeccable tailoring, however, and out of sheer desperation, I bought it only to be informed by the sullen, indifferent sales person that the suit goes on sale tomorrow at noon. My interview is at 11 am. I did ask if I can get the discount if I show up then(some stores have that policy), but she looked at me as if I had bunnies jumping out of my hair and gave me a firm and disgusted "No." So, at any rate, cross your fingers. For the interview, not the discount. Well, for the discount too, I guess!
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Snuggly for Dogs
I thought I had seen it all. And I have seen some preeeeetttty weirdo things out there. Well, folks, today I went to a pet store to get food for Fat Cat and I saw a "Snuggly for Dogs--keeps you warm while your paws are free!" Well. Apparently someone out there thought that a dog might need this. Amazing.
I am excited because tomorrow the Diplomat and I are meeting with his Career Development Officer to discuss the bid list. This is particularly exciting because I get to walk on the FSI campus and breathe the diplomatic air once again. The brain power that infuses that air is almost like the extra oxygen that they pump in the casinos in las Vegas to keep you happy and awake longer. I feel much smarter through osmosis. I should go there more often.
I am excited because tomorrow the Diplomat and I are meeting with his Career Development Officer to discuss the bid list. This is particularly exciting because I get to walk on the FSI campus and breathe the diplomatic air once again. The brain power that infuses that air is almost like the extra oxygen that they pump in the casinos in las Vegas to keep you happy and awake longer. I feel much smarter through osmosis. I should go there more often.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Bidding, going back to NYC and an abstract painting
I have spent the past few days locked in the Foreign Service Institute, watching videos from various posts to help us with the decision. Sadly, most videos are made by kids. Yup, kids. Apparently, there is some program within the FS to have FS kids make videos of their lives, and management has deemed those representative enough so that it now offers them to budding and bidding diplomats deciding on their preferences. After watching a particularly painful, jumpy video of a little girl's yard and front steps in Somewheristan for over 10 minutes, I had to stop--I actually got motion sickness from the constant chaotic movement of the camera. If the little girl is reading this blog...sorry :(. Guess which was the best video, done professionally--yes, the Chinese one. It was superb and made me want to run to the airport, throw my bags on the plane and beg to be flown to Beijing this very moment.
On the home front: I had to go back to NYC this past weekend as I decided that we do not have enough crappola to live with so far. Our 600 lbs shipment of spices, cookbooks and evening gowns has not yet arrived and I plan to entertain this weekend. That will be interesting...
On the way to NY, it took me 7 hours of mind-blowing traffic to get home (NYC home). Since I left the boys at home (DC home), I decided to crack the top of the covertible open on the way up there, and look supercool for a change (despite the huge carseat in the back). As you can imagine, that was a particularly stupid move given that the sun was blazing and the temp was over 90. While I was in motion, given the speed, my face and arms went numb from the windtunnel. While I was stuck in traffic, the sun painfully scorched my limbs. I am currently sporting a a very attractive white strip across my chest left from the seat-belt. Being cool comes at a price.
Horrified by the traffic, I decided to leave early on Sunday to drive back to DC. On my way down, I stopped at a food plaza and, OMG, I saw the group from the Jersey Shore (not that I have watched that intellectually stimulating programming, but I have seen enough of them in the tabloids, which I read religiously)! Whoa! Wait, no! It's not them, it's a bunch of kids from NJ going to the shore. Then I turned around and saw another group, JUST LIKE THEM. And another, and another. So, it turns out that people like that DO exist in NJ in real life. Who knew...
I made it back to DC in record 4 hours. I was slowed down momentarily by a huge minivan full of animated Indian aunties who had hogged the left lane on I-95, driving 60 m/h (good for them!), and would not budge to my honking and flashing of lights. When exasperated I finally took them over on the right, they all yelled and gesticulated madly at me with what I gather were not especially kind words. I waved back pleasantly. That drove them into a fury. I sped on happily.
Son has been moved into the toddlers-over-2 room at daycare--I believe he is happier there than he was in his previous room with the smaller kiddos. He is being very clingy when I drop him off and refuses to let me go. I am puzzled by this since he loved his previous daycare and didn't give a flying fig about my presence there. Even though I love the daycare facility and the women who work there, I must say that I see the difference between his previous place, which was a Montessori school and here. In the school, they actually taught them things; here, it seems they just get to play a lot. I did burst with pride yesterday though--as I entered his room, I noticed a big easel with a huge yellow abstract painting, the type that made Picasso famous. It had Son's name on it. My pride subsided somewhat whe I saw that part of the abstract painting had found its way also on Son's shirt and pants and shoes. Oh well, sacrifices in the name of art!
On the home front: I had to go back to NYC this past weekend as I decided that we do not have enough crappola to live with so far. Our 600 lbs shipment of spices, cookbooks and evening gowns has not yet arrived and I plan to entertain this weekend. That will be interesting...
On the way to NY, it took me 7 hours of mind-blowing traffic to get home (NYC home). Since I left the boys at home (DC home), I decided to crack the top of the covertible open on the way up there, and look supercool for a change (despite the huge carseat in the back). As you can imagine, that was a particularly stupid move given that the sun was blazing and the temp was over 90. While I was in motion, given the speed, my face and arms went numb from the windtunnel. While I was stuck in traffic, the sun painfully scorched my limbs. I am currently sporting a a very attractive white strip across my chest left from the seat-belt. Being cool comes at a price.
Horrified by the traffic, I decided to leave early on Sunday to drive back to DC. On my way down, I stopped at a food plaza and, OMG, I saw the group from the Jersey Shore (not that I have watched that intellectually stimulating programming, but I have seen enough of them in the tabloids, which I read religiously)! Whoa! Wait, no! It's not them, it's a bunch of kids from NJ going to the shore. Then I turned around and saw another group, JUST LIKE THEM. And another, and another. So, it turns out that people like that DO exist in NJ in real life. Who knew...
I made it back to DC in record 4 hours. I was slowed down momentarily by a huge minivan full of animated Indian aunties who had hogged the left lane on I-95, driving 60 m/h (good for them!), and would not budge to my honking and flashing of lights. When exasperated I finally took them over on the right, they all yelled and gesticulated madly at me with what I gather were not especially kind words. I waved back pleasantly. That drove them into a fury. I sped on happily.
Son has been moved into the toddlers-over-2 room at daycare--I believe he is happier there than he was in his previous room with the smaller kiddos. He is being very clingy when I drop him off and refuses to let me go. I am puzzled by this since he loved his previous daycare and didn't give a flying fig about my presence there. Even though I love the daycare facility and the women who work there, I must say that I see the difference between his previous place, which was a Montessori school and here. In the school, they actually taught them things; here, it seems they just get to play a lot. I did burst with pride yesterday though--as I entered his room, I noticed a big easel with a huge yellow abstract painting, the type that made Picasso famous. It had Son's name on it. My pride subsided somewhat whe I saw that part of the abstract painting had found its way also on Son's shirt and pants and shoes. Oh well, sacrifices in the name of art!
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