My Neighbor is a Castle

Before we moved cross the ocean to a little green island, the first thing others would tell us about Ireland is how nice the people here were. And they so are! They cant stop throwing us parties wherever we go! We spent our first week in Clontarf, which is a charming seaside village with things to boast like a bird sanctuary, a dazzling rose garden, and parks that sprawl for ages. And they must have heard we were there, because on that Saturday they held their yearly food festival! Just for us, Ive decided. The zoo was there with crocodiles, someone was juggling fire, and there was even a car show for Jon.

When we moved into Dublin on the next Friday, we were greeted by one of the biggest parades we'd ever seen in person! Because our windows face a main street, we got the best seats in the house! Rather than throng on the streets with thousands people, we made coffee and sat on our sill to watch it all go by. It was Dublin's Pride Week, and it was a MAJOR party that lasted all night. I can personally tell you it lasted all night (and into the morning too), because our main-street-facing windows have their setbacks. They may be double-paned to keep heat in, but they dont do much to keep the sound out. Lets just say our sleepless night was fitfully filled with club music and sparkles, and wing-wearing men who apply their makeup with way more skill than I ever could. I bought earplugs today, just in case Dublin decides to throw us any more welcome-home parties this Saturday.

And it really does feel like Home. We made it all the way here, and I can honestly say I love my city. I cross the street with a quick sure pace, because I know where Im going. But look both ways twice because I keep forgetting just what side the cars will come from. I call the bathroom The Toilet, but it still sounds weird. I do my laundry in the kitchen, and keep the softener next to the sugar. But I moved it to the closet because it made my potatoes floral-scented. I buy food for just one day at a time, but its better that way because my fridge is only 3ft high with no freezer in sight. When its time to cook, I switch on the power to the range so the burners will heat up. Then I switch the outlet off again. When we talk about the weather, Ill tell you it got to a glorious 20 degrees! Celsius, meters, and grams are becoming normal parts of my speech now. I spend 5-ers and 10-ers, not 5 bucks or 10 bucks. Wording here is more proper, and Jon has adopted the word 'quite'. Dinner was QUITE good. The weather is QUITE nice. Even a tv ad for toilet paper seems prim when you say 'O-wer tooy-lett pay-pa is new soof-ta than eva'. When I go out, I wear full leggings and a skirt, with flip-flops and a scarf. I tuck sunglasses next to my umbrella in my messenger-bag purse, because the weather changes every fifteen minutes, and I am prepared. The TV is a Telly, the cops are the Gardai. I dont say 'parking lot', I say 'car park'. I love the rain, but I cant say so without strange looks. And you cant call us tourists anymore.

Because we totally live here.

What Time Is It Again?

I sat at the huge glass window, watching the lightning-filled sky over our plane to Ireland. I sent out my last goodbyes over text message as our last flight to our new life was delayed. I wasnt nervous as much as tired. I just wanted to leave already, and I knew there was a 6-hour flight ahead of me. We were finally boarded, only to taxi around for two hours. Luckily, we got seated by possibly the most annoying lady in the airport. She made the whole row (ours) take a picture together (while the seat-belt sign was on) and give each other our emails so we could later Facebook each other (I lied when it was my turn). Everyone in hearing range now knows extremely personal things about this lady, including every detail about her ex-husband and their divorce, and her very graphic 9-11 memories. Anyway, the 2-hr taxi and the 6-hr flight were awesome (when I had my headphones on High volume).


We finally landed in Dublin, Ireland, our new country. A random idea that formed one night on our tiny American kitchen floor after a dinner with good friends. A moonstruck dream come to reality in a few short months' time. The self-crazed lady, to her credit, was the first person to say, "Welcome Home!" to us when the plane landed. And it wasnt even raining! Well it rained later that day, but it was light so I guess here it doesnt count as rain. On a cool note, here they have "Dry Days" and every other day you can expect rain. And Dry doesnt mean Sun, just that the clouds wont drop their rains.

Our hosts, Phil & Betty, are really amazing! They have driven us around to so many cool places already, just to show us about town! They are so generous and kind. Not only do they cook three meals a day for us and let us live with them for an open-ended amount of time, they even forgive us when we butcher the foreign street names. Betty told me she will take us to tea in Clontarf Castle this week! So stoked! She said, "Americans love to have tea in a castle". Yes ma'am! We dont have them laying around in the States. Their castles here are like Starbucks there: one on every corner. (Side note: No Starbucks in Dublin, but she told me their coffee place 'Insomnia' is as plentiful and delicious as our beloved green mermaid. I will let you know).

So our first and second days have been amazing, but every once in awhile Ill catch myself in a thought and realize, "Woah. I totally live in Ireland." Which is pretty fantastic.

It's Raining Change! (in more ways than one)

Call me Frodo. The movie is Lord of the Rings III (Return of the King), near the last scene. Frodo is saying goodbye to his Hobbit buddies, about to sail off to live with elves and never see the mortal world again. He's also the only dry-eyed one in the group. Its not that Frodo isnt really sad about leaving, because he is. I think he will really miss his friends back home, and his family especially. Isnt a goodbye consistently harder for the ones left behind? It doesn't matter what kind of leaving behind is being done, if you're the one left. I'm not going to be gone forever, and my ship looks a lot more like an airplane, but there are parallels. I think Frodo cried some on the ride to his new home, even if there were elves there. So did I.

One last goodbye after another this month finally led to our departure through the Magic Portal Into Space (the quickly over, yet intrusive, full body scan). As we boarded our first tiny airplane to our Phoenix layover, I was trying to not explode with thoughts. They ranged from being kind of thirsty, to the knowledge that I will probably miss my little brother's high school graduation ceremony. And all in the name of adventure. Sometimes I wonder how much is worth sacrificing for a dream. My dog forgetting who I am? Missing literally years of my sister's life? Is it really worth the pain?

Luckily, there was a man in the seat right behind me who interrupted my thinking. He had at some point during today, decided that an entire sandwich-sized Ziploc full of change would be a good thing to have in a carry-on. Then he decided that carry-on belonged directly above my head. Well as I was staring at my coffee (Venti house brew, Coconut sweetener & nonfat milk thanksverymuch), there was a sudden onslaught of change falling onto my head! My row got a good laugh, and I think I stole half a buck.

But change is everywhere. Not just in my hair either. We are in for lots more changes before this month is through, and I can honestly say we are enjoying it. If there's one thing Jon & I are good at, its traveling together. So as sad as its been to say goodbye to our loved ones, we wake up each day ready for more. More stories, more experiences, more life. Tears, or no.

The Great Green Yonder

People say many things when we tell them we are moving to Ireland. My Mom is one of them. Over the last few months, her favorite question was "Where will you live?", to which we had no direct answer, except, "In Dublin I guess?"

See, I have a theory about the unknown. I think there's probably a law that says things have a way of working themselves out all on their own. In our house, this theory is called the 'Dont Worry, Jon Will Handle It' law. When this law is in effect, all I have to do is pack my bags and go. This law gives me the freedom as a wife to simply trust that my husband has our best interests at heart, and will take the initiative to take care of us in the future. This law also gives him the freedom to make plans he thinks are the optimum choice for us.

Sometimes, this law is seriously stupid. That's why I call it a theory, because theories always look great before real life tests them. In theory, the "Don't Worry" part of the law looks a lot more like me worrying a great deal, nagging a ton, and/or criticizing bad choices. Sometimes the "Jon Will Handle It" part of the law looks more like Jon doesn't know what the heck he's doing, forgot to remember to handle it, and/or handled it the wrong way.

For instance, our last apartment. Jon said it was smaller, but a great deal, and seemed legit. So we went and glanced at it once (in a perfunctory attitude), and told them we'd take it. Well. It was not until we had paid first (out of many) month's contractual rent, got the keys, and took pizza to our spankin' new place, that I realized: no dishwasher, cat-pee carpet, 3yr old boy living right on our heads. More like IN my head after a few months of torturous running back-and-forth across our bedroom/living room ceilings at all hours of the day/night. All things that I would have avoided had I chose our new place myself. The law had failed me! Maybe I should have taken more initiative and made more decisions!

But just by moving there from our old (spacious, clean, upstairs) place, and washing EVERY dish we ever dirtied, we were able to pay off our credit debt and our second car, and start this awesome journey we're on now. These things and more work together for the good of those who love God, says Romans 8:28. So when I trust in Jon to do things like find us a place to live when we move to a new country, Im putting my trust in God to work things out. Thats really what my theory comes down to in the end. Jon will fail, but God will never.

PS Mom!
We found a place to live! They are a retired couple in Clontarf, Ireland, which is 6km from City Centre in Dublin, where Jon will be working. They have graciously offered us a room to stay in for our first week there, to give us a chance to find yet another (hopefully furnished!) apartment to rent.

See? My law is working again. Hopefully he finds a place on the TOP floor this time.

Unknown

Have you ever heard that phrase, "the silence was deafening"? Well its a cliche for a reason: its true.

Before bed I turn on two fans just so I can get to sleep. Its not that I cant stand to be alone with my thoughts; that I actually like. It's that we aren't living a couple blocks from the 85 anymore, but in the mountains where Jon and I did a lot of growing up. The loudest noise I can hear right now is the adorable peeping of about 30 less-than-a-week-old chicks that my Mom hatched from her own chickens out in the barn. I can go right out the front door and see nothing but grass and trees. And one sad yellow tulip among a sea of red tulips. I can go out the back door, and see mountains that sprawl out into the distance. At night, the air is so clean, that I can see more stars than I can count. Where we used to live, I sometimes forgot there were even stars to look for.

But I'm really a cloud gathering for the storm. It's quiet now because the sky is still blue, the air is still warm. But the wind will blow steadily stronger, and I will become lost in the squall. Just one more cloud in a sky of clouds. A faceless stranger in a new world. I know I will eventually turn back to this chapter of our story and exclaim,

"How Brave!"
or maybe "How Reckless!"
or even "What Were We Thinking?" 
Ill have to remind myself then, that right now all I'm thinking is, "Hurry Up!"

God has gifted me these quiet few weeks on purpose. So I embrace this interval. I am thankful for the eye of the storm, but am also thankful for the storm. Among all the red tulips, there is a single yellow one. But it doesn't look lonely anymore. I think it looks satisfied.

Wait, should I be scared?

What did you do today? I spent most of my Saturday in the company of Futurama Season 2, and a roll of duct tape. And all these strangers kept interrupting me! I didn't mind though, they all came with money and a car to haul away things like my dressers, cabinets, and shelves. Thanks Craigslist! I pulled what i could into the front "porch" area. I say "porch" because it's a term that also means "community laundry room/mailbox/carport" area.

Anyway, it's not that Im ashamed of people seeing my living space in such disarray, full of newly unearthed dust bunnies and a really fun cardboard box maze. It's my mostly groundless paranoia that the person on the other end of the computer is actually my secret stalker who is using the opportunity to "buy a couch" to get inside my house and kill me. I say mostly groundless because crap like that happens to people. Especially to those poor fools in the first five minutes of Law & Order.

Am i putting myself in danger by giving my address to someone who could be anyone? Maybe. Will that stop me from making over $200 in two days? Hasn't yet. All it's cost me so far is a bit of stress, and time out of my day to meet perfectly nice people who are probably as equally scared that I'm a serial killer luring innocents into my house with the promise of a cheap lamp. So far so good!

Jon spent his Saturday in Aptos surfing. Lucky bum.

Off to Neverland! I mean Ireland!

We have boxes! That's a major step toward moving, no matter where you're moving to. Trader Joe's flower boxes are legit! Except for all the holes. Whatever, those are for packing the stuff we are getting rid of anyway. We have waaaaay too much stuff by the way. Like more than i even thought we had. Our apartment is only 650sq ft, it's not like we have room to collect much. But today as I sat staring at my mounds of clothes, and piles of useless things like rotisserie ovens and empty baskets, I decided I should open my own thrift store. Nah. Ill just have a garage sale and post stuff on Craigslist. All the boxes beginning to overtake my already-tiny living space have brought this whole moving-to-another-country thing into the forefront of my thoughts.

In December we thought, hey wouldnt it be cool to move far away for awhile? How about Ireland? Sweet idea, let's look into it.
In January we thought, holy crap you got the job!
In February we thought, is this real life?

And it's been a roller coaster of emotions since, bringing me to today: the first day of real packing! With boxes and everything! And I made this blog for friends and family who care to check in on me and Jon during this crazy process of moving to Ireland. So with three weeks left to pack, and like three thousand boxes to fill, I better get to it. Goodbye!