Competitive Moving - We Win

A few days ago I happened to glance across the street & noticed this scene:

My neighbors are packing up to move to Germany. And, as jealous as I am about that, I did take a moment to be really glad it wasn't me on the receiving end of an overseas move. Or any move for that matter.

I said to myself:
Hey, SavvySelf, just looking at that makes me want to vomit & hyperventilate.

My SavvySelf agreed (which is really fortunate since we are one in the same & if we didn't agree, we'd probably be diagnosed with a multiple personality disorder & we I would need more therapy than what the occasional blogging can deliver).

Anyway, later that same day, Man waltzed in the door from a hard day's work and commented that just looking at the Trucks & Crates gave him heart palpitations.

I agreed with him (which is also very fortunate) & explained that I had the same kind of visceral reaction just thinking about a move. I also pointed out that I was extremely thrilled that another one wasn't in the immediate future. And, by immediate I mean not until next summer. Because that's what you told me, that's what the Military wants, and next summer at the earliest, right? Right?

And, I really have no desire to compete for the Gold in the
Military Moves Olympics. Silver is just dandy with me.

His answer . . .

Unless I get another job within the HQ. Then we can leave in February.

Wha . . . Huh?

Surely he's just joking? You know, just kidding?

Seriously? Really?

Excuse me while I . . . bluughck! Breathe in, breathe out.breathe.breathe.in.out.in.out.in.out . . . Anyone have a brown paper bag handy? Bluughck!

ManBoxes, Take 3

If you are not into all the ManBox drama around the Rockin'Bauer Haus, you might want to just skip this publication. I really hate to keep harping on this subject, but I feel I haven't quite made my point.

And, I really feel that I need to make a point.

To Man.

Let me tell you something, my friends. That boy is in some major denial. While he was reading yesterday's ManBox post (Yes, he reads me religiously - just so he knows what's going on around here.) he piped up and demanded that I "go easy on the ManBoxes". Then he unequivocally proclaimed that there was no way there were 51 ManBoxes lying around the Haus.

Then . . .

(here's where this conversation becomes an exercise in extreme restraint on my part & I knew I should have consumed a preemptory glass of wein)

he told me that some of those boxes were my responsibility too.

My eyeballs still hurt this morning from rolling so far into the back of my head.

His only supporting fact as evidence was that I had also used the old computer at some point. Then he milked that one fact for all it was worth. And declared that I needed to help him decide what to do with some of the ManBox contents because . . .

it all couldn't possibly belong to him. Some of it had to be mine. And, don't forget, you used that computer too!

And, again, there's no way on God's Green Earth that there are 51 ManBoxes. I must have miss counted. And fabricated my photographic evidence.

What

Ev

ER.

Shall I recap for Man those of you a little slow out of the gate and didn't catch on the first two times? There are fifty-one Rockin'BauerManBoxes. These ManBoxes are filled with ManStuff. The ManMobile is parked in the driveway because of the 32 ManBoxes in the garage. I absolutely claim no ownership whatsoever to any of the ManBox contents.

However, I have offered many times to organize & label the very few items we can use and/or need to keep. I have also suggested calling GoodWill to come do a BigA pick-up.

And, I've priced industrial-sized paper shredders.

Upon learning of the number 51, WonderWoman did want to know if the ManStuff was piled into original packing boxes. The answer is YES! This would be a typical ManBox. Slightly crushed after umpteen moves/years and sporting several layers of packing tape & a rainbow of inventory stickers.

And, here's evidence of how long the ManBoxes have existed. The particular box was packed by Aloha International. Hawaii, sometime mid-90's.

I did come across one non-descript box of an ambiguous origin.

I flipped open the top flaps & was greeted by this:

I know it's hard to read - because it's so old - but the publication date is December 5, 1988. Let's see . . . I would have been a junior in high school & this paper was addressed to a TSgt Rockin'Bauer (Who is that?!). Talk about a lifetime ago. I was amused at the Man-written note about this issue having "resume writing tips".

Ok, maybe some things never change.

With just a cursory glance, the box below might appear to be recently packed. The moving company Georg Herrie (pronounced Gay-Org Harry) is located in Neumarkt. For those of you familiar with the Oberpfalz area, you know it's located right up the Autobahn from HoTown. However, this box was sent to storage in Texas 18 months before we ever dreamed of an assignment to HoTown.

This box would have to have been packed in Nuremberg. Early 90's.

sigh

I hope Man considers this post to be an intervention of sorts. I'm here to help whenever he's ready to take the first step. I'll even stop by the Class XI and buy him a case of bier to take the edge off.

Oh, stop! You know I would never dream of getting him drunk and taking advantage.

You know me better than that. I'm not much of a dreamer.

But I am one heck of a planner.

The ManBoxes

This is Man. Hello, Man.

These are boxes.

But these are not ManBoxes. These are boxes that HausFrau knows what to do with.

These are just plain ol' moving boxes.

These, on the other hand, are ManBoxes. I counted very carefully. Three times. There are 31 ManBoxes in the garage on this wall.

I thought 31 boxes was the grand total for the garage. Then I saw this sucker hiding on the top of some shelving on the opposite wall. This ManBox (it contains a VHS camcorder, all original packaging) brings the total up to 32.

Don't get all excited thinking you won the Official ManBox Count Contest if your guess was close to 32. This is just the garage, people. There's more.

In the basement.

I counted. Twice. There are another 19 boxes here.

32 + 19 =

That's right, my friends, there are a Grand Total of FiftyOne ManBoxes at Haus Rockin'Bauer. I think my original guess of 50 was not too far from the truth. And, Man actually accused me of exaggerating. Humpf!

I think he was just hoping to sneak that camcorder past me.

Here is the moment we've all be waiting for: the results for the

Rockin'Bauer PCS 2009 ManBox Count SmackDown.

Can I get a drum roll please?

The winner (besides me and my guess of fifty) is . . . . . .

Subourbon HausFrau (Hi, Stacey!) coming in at 48. She obviously knows a ManBox when she sees one. Or fifty one.

WonderWoman (Hi, Heather!) is the first runner-up with her guess of 56.

BeachMum (Hi, Laura!) is second runner-up with a guess of 43, although she did admit to being conservative with her numbers.

Let me do some looking around the Haus for the perfect prizes.

In the meantime, how many ManBoxes do we think are going to show up at the next duty station? You'll have to guess first. Right now, I'm afraid to even go there.

Before & After

Has this ever happened to you?

You wake up on Moving Day and BoInG off the air mattress on the floor. You are tingly from head to toes with anticipation of what's to come. All worldly possessions will finally be returned to you after their Trans-Atlantic voyage.

It's like Christmas in February.

Or whatever month Uncle Sam chooses.

You may think to yourself,

Oooooohhhh! The king sized pillow top mattress . . .

Goody-goody-gosh! Can't wait for the rest of the kitchen gadgets . . .

Oh, boy! The real TV . . .

Of course, you've jumped ahead of yourself a bit & have envisioned all of that (& more, lots & lots more) in your new Haus. Perfectly clean & properly placed.

You are snapped back to reality when you hear the semi-truck outside your new residence.

MoverDudes ding-dong the door bell & announce (Hopefully in English. But you can deal with whatever they toss your way. Keep thinking of the prize . . . those 800 thread count sheets are out there somewhere.) that they are here with the first truck. They'll bring the other 7 crates after these are downloaded.

Wha . . . huh?

You mean there's more?

Guess it's a good thing you had that second bowl of Frosted Flakes this morning. You toss your Man the bingo sheet to track the inventory. You threaten your children with no TV for a whole week - that's right, not just any ol' TV, I'm talking Disney & Nick - if they dare peek out of the basement.

You stand akimbo, a determined look on your face, ready to direct box traffic & finish off this PCS pronto.

And, just after crate "Rockin'Bauer #8 out of 16" gets dumped on your front lawn, You may think to yourself . . . Oh. My. Goodness! This is barely half! But, you'll suck down another big glass of iced tea & deal.

Yeah, I know. You are a military wife. You do this all the time.

You are also a HausFrau. Go work the magic, girl. It's what you do best.

See? That wasn't so bad was it?

Except for the fact that the MirrorHangingFairy has failed to make an appearance, the downstairs is looking rather dashing.

Especially, if dashing can be defined by many, many second hand items displayed in every nook & cranny. By the way friends, if you happen to see anything that you might recognize, you probably do. I most likely bought your stuff at SubourbonHausFrau's Boutique and am attempting to pass it off as antique, unique, European, exotic &/or expensive.

Speaking of second hand . . . the dining room table with its double-pedestal & 6 chairs is now ours thanks to a mere $500 & a bit of luck with Craig List. Like the sheer curtains? 10 bucks at the thrift shop.

Not the best-ever kitchen, not the worst.

Not the cleanest either. But, while I was not cleaning the kitchen last night, I did manage to win $5 at Bunco.

In the picture below, if you make squinty eyes & look from left to right, you can see into the dining room, kitchen, past the entryway & into the office. And, you'll notice the "before" picture on our TV.

Yep, that's right. HGTV. On my TV! How fun is that?

Like our new sofa? I managed to get the guy who sold us the dining table to give up his couch too, for $200. He also parted with the mirror over the mantle. For free.

Lucky for him, I didn't see anything else in his condo that I wanted before I was escorted from the premises.

What about the bedrooms, you might ask? Well, let's just say that I chose to goof off on the computer instead of making beds, dusting dressers and vacuuming floors.

Surely, that's happened to you before. Like now?

ManBoxes

Subject: Missing Person Notice
Date: 2/24/02009 3:11:05 AM Eastern Standard Time
From: babblingbrook@pink.com
To: missinginfo@NorthernVAPolice.gov

Hello? Helllooo?! I'm looking for my friend HausFrau.... It's been almost two weeks since her last blog and I'm afraid she may have fallen off the face of the earth (or into one of those ManBoxes she's always complaining about) ... Any assistance you can give in this matter would be greatly appreciated.

Muchas Gracias! ~Babs

********************************************************************
Oh. Uh . . . Hi. (Insert sheepish finger wave.) I'm still here.

And, I am happy to report that I haven't quite fallen off the face of this planet. As a matter of fact, the Haus is looking quite spiffy for it being only M-Day +7. I would be farther down the road to PCS Recovery, but my world didn't just stop to allow me ample time for box diving & knick-knack placing & picture hanging.

And, quite to my dismay, the floors are not sweeping themselves, the Laundry Fairy has failed to show up again this week & What Not to Wear comes on twice a day every day! Additionally, we are still roughing it with one vehicle & I'm playing chauffeur getting everyone else out into the real world to do important tasks like earn a paycheck and get an education.

I have been making steady progress & have dealt with most boxes that I give a hoot about (Polish pottery, kitchen gadgets, candles & computer cables). I know I'm still missing a few important items (like my tennis shoes so I could exercise if I really wanted to) but I just haven't consumed enough wine in one sitting had the time to venture into the basement & garage to successfully complete Operation: Sneakers & Other Semi-Important Stuff Like MiniMe's Pink Sparkly Ballet Flats That She Forgot About & Hasn't Mentioned in Two Weeks.

The sheer number of boxes in the basement & garage is scary and to make matters worse, I think the movers swiped my contraband 1/2 of a Xanax tablet that I had put back for just for this reason. I had it in a ziplock baggie in my Land's End jacket pocket & it mysteriously disappeared between Brussels & DC.

And, I didn't take it. Although, I probably should have. Especially when I was digging through boxes, stressing myself out, looking for my tennis shoes so I could exercise & reduce stress.

I could have also used it a few days ago, when I was on the phone with a friend (Hi, BBLady!) stressing about boxes & shoes. I totally complained casually mentioned that it would be necessary to maneuver 50+ ManBoxes to even begin to find boxes that may contain sparkly shoes. Man overheard this most subtle reference & begged to disagree. If I remember correctly he protested I was "not being nice" & argued with me about the actual number of boxes & claimed that maybe (probably, most likely) there are only 10 boxes at the very most of ManCrap that might (but probably not) need to be sorted through & downsized.

Not being nice? Nice has nothing to do with it. I was just stating a fact.

Did he forget that numbers are my friends & I am very rarely wrong when it comes to any kind of quantity, measurement or date?

Since I was accused of not being nice, now I want to know just how many ManBoxes are hanging out around the Haus. I say we all put our thinking caps on & play a little numbers game. Let's estimate - jelly beans in a jar fashion - how many ManBoxes are in the garage & basement.

For the record, we are not being not nice. We are using our logical skills & mathematical talents to solve a problem. We HausFrauen are keeping our brains sharp just in case we ever have to do any real thinking. Like deciding what to cook for dinner. Or how long much water to use in the washing machine.

ManBoxes are defined as boxes that contain nothing of mine. These are the boxes I open at every duty station, stress about & shove in a corner because I don't know what to do with them. These are the boxes that Man insists (at every duty station) he will deal with "later". These are the boxes that Man wants me to quit talking about. These are the boxes I think have no purpose other than to grate on my last PCS nerve.

These are the boxes that define our marriage.

Just joking.

Back to the boxes . . . the white boxes were packed in Belgium & do not qualify as ManBoxes.

Here is what's in storage in the sub-basement. I'll take responsibility for the teaching crap (4-5 boxes) & leftover baby stuff (see the taped up Huggies box?). Here's a hint: the 9 boxes in the front are the ManBoxes of which I speak.

Here's another angle so that you can see how far back the pile goes. Notice the brown pile behind the white boxes.

And, here's what's in the garage. ALL of these boxes have been in storage for almost 4 years & some have not been sorted through since 2000. The white boxes in the front are either empty or contain donate items. Of the brown boxes . . . they're not mine . . .

So, how many boxes are ManBoxes? Just hit the comment button with your guess. I'll have Laze-E help me count & the closest guess wins a prize.

The prize . . . it's a surprise. But I will tell you, it will be found in one of our boxes!

Note to Man: Hi, Babe. Love you! (Insert finger wave) Don't take it personally. Sometimes a Frau just has to BoxBlog and get it off her chest. Especially if someone happens to bogart her remaining half a chill pill. I noticed MiniMe was peacefully sleeping & quite calm when I came home from Bunco last night. There wouldn't be any sort of connection, would there?

Willkommen zum Schloss Rockin'Bauer

Welcome to new our Haus. Just wait until my household goods show up, then it will most certainly be Schloss Rockin'Bauer. Right now, spacious & cavernous are good descriptors. My car is here & has Virginia tags. One vehicle down, one to go. Can the ship be any slower?

Here's the entryway looking into the kitchen. Laze-E just got home from school & that's her stuff dumped on the floor. Like, where else was she supposed to put it?!

This is a picture looking into the living area/den/family room - whatever you want to call it. My "living room" stuff will go in here. And, I'm putting all my office stuff in the "formal" living room. I'm so not a parlor & crumpets kind of gal.

And, here's the kichen. To you it may look like an ordinary American kitchen. To me, it's big & roomy, the appliances are huge and I can certainly work the Schnitzel magic here.

Here's the basement. My plan is for it to be the catchall for everything I don't want to look at all the time. Kinder included. Don't you love the outdated & ugly green trim? My personal fav is the lawn chairs. How redneck. The only saving grace is that nothing has been duct taped.

I totally heart the porch & deck. My vision is have to the Rockin'est Biergarten (okay, Weingarten might be a better name) ever! Complete with a little fiesta multi-colored lights to add that special Texas flare. Just wait until you see the wine barrell I scored in Belgium.

Here's MiniMe posing on the deck overlooking the backyard.

And, here's the hot tub. Actually, it was a cold tub in this picture, but MiniMe didn't care.

Party. My Haus. Invitation is always open. Call me.

Random Thoughts

The parking spaces at IKEA are really roomy.

Potomac Mills Outlet Mall is really huge, but I purchased nothing.

Thankfully, there was a car in front of me. Otherwise, I would not have remembered to stop for the school bus.

I keep forgetting I can make a right turn on a red light.

But, I do keep slowing down and yielding right at every intersection. It totally annoys the locals.

There is large fridge in the basement that I've yet to use.

My upright freezer that was in storage is completely empty. I keep thinking how handy extra cold-storage would be for all my overseas friends.

The "Convenience Station" in the ladies' room was stocked with Tampons, Tylenol & Tattoos. What else could a PMS victim ever need?!

I really like all the corny daytime estrogen shows on TLC.

I think military Brats are the best kids ever. Ok, some of them are straight-up juvenile deliquents, but the good ones are worth their weight in gold. Their moms are awesome too!

I think I need to find some kind of job.

I do not want to teach anything to anybody.

I need to go back to school, but I'm not sure if I can make it happen until Texas.

I don't know who likes the in-the-door ice & water more: Me or MiniMe.

I am totally annoyed with TV & radio commercials. Especially the ones that repeat every 15 minutes. Or less.

$148 is outrageously expensive for the 2 minutes it took to open the locked door. But, I paid it. What else can you do when the moving truck is there & all doors are locked? I know, I know. Any one of the movers probably possessed the ability to B&E my house in about 10 seconds flat, but no one was admitting to squat. Or volunteered their services.

Our household goods are still at sea, but I am really ready for them to get here.

Traffic here is not as bad as I had expected.

I forgot how quickly I can knock out a week's worth of laundry.

I do not understand why the Ft. Belvoir commissary is bigger & has more selection than the Ramstein one. Overseas patrons (who can't run down the road to: Target, Walmart, Giant, Safeway, Costco, Trader Joe's, Etc.) need bigger facilities & more choices. Why is it the opposite?

Who knew my own personal hot tub could be so much fun?

I really like my new swimsuits. I had to order from Land's End because they actually make freak-of-nautre sizes. It was really cool that they just showed up on my front door step!

I'm amused with how chatty some of you can be on the comments.

I am ready for the Pilot to get here. It will save me about 2.5 hours of chauffeuring every day.

Two fold-out recling lawn chairs make for living room furniture.

I do not joke about double decker Targets!

Lost & Found

Dear HausFrau:

After reading your recent publication Batteries Not Included, I must say that Tip #23 really spoke to me. Well, now that I think about it, screamed might actually be a better description. You see, much like the mysterious Frau portrayed in the artilce, I have a particular battery operated . . . uh, thing . . . that has gone MIA.

Yeah, I know. Normally, this would be no big deal I mean, it's not like my husband is deployed or anything but we are PCSing soon & my preference is not to end up as the perfect bad example in a future HausFrau Handbook.

Let me tell you, Savvy, I have looked everywhere without success & I'm starting to get a little bit panicky. I have looked here:

And . . . I have look here:

And, I've looked here. Twice.

Oh, where? Oh, where? I have been tearing my Haus apart in a 3-day frenzy attempting to local the darn thing. Just when I think I have another bright idea of where it might be, I come up empty handed. Again & again & again.

In a nutshell, my Haus is a total disaster & I still haven't located the Energizer Bunny. Please help.

Signed, ~Desperate HausFrau in Europe

****************************************************

Dear Desperate (a completely anonymous fellow HausFrau in Europe whom I am certain I do not know in real life):

Not to worry, girlfriend. These things do happen & if so, you will live to tell about it (oh, please let me be the first to know!). My first recommendation is to take a deep breath & c-a-l-m d-o-w-n.

My SuperSavvy Readers (please make suggestions in the comment box) and I will help you brainstorm about where to look next. Have you looked:

• in the kitchen gadget drawer?
• the kids' toy box?
• your Man's tool box?
• desk drawer?
• behind the washing machine?
• under the couch?
• in the Halloween decoration box?

If the object of our discussion continues to remain MIA, I recommend confronting your fears & insecurities head on. When your movers show up, give them all a firm hand shake & introduce yourself (& your Man). Definitely introduce your Man & have him present for the following conservation with the Mover Dudes (just for giggles, it's really nothing that needs a witness):

Hey, Mover Dudes. Listen. I misplaced a really big purple rabbit shaped vibrator a few months back & can't find it although I've looked & looked & looked. As you pack up all my worldly possessions, can you pretty please be on the look out for it? I really don't want to know if you find it or not, but it would be super-dee-duper if you could remove the four size D batteries before you pack it up & throw it into my sock drawer. I'm trying to avoid any future embarrassing situations. Muchas Gracia! You guys are the bestest. Mwah!

We are all anxiously awaiting the final outcome. Remember, we thrive off dysfunction & humor so we will all be sorely disappointed if you find it in your sock drawer.

Thanks for Reading! ~HausFrau

Across the Pond

Last Saturday, we started here.

What?!

Why?! Especially when there were 3 perfectly fine toliets in the same loo.

Then we boarded this:

Eventually, we arrived in DC.




Hello, Target! I was there 30 minutes before I realized it was a double decker.

And, so begins the culture shock.

MiniMe Says

Ok. This has to be quick. Man told me to check my email so that he could pack up the laptop. I did check email, then got all happy because I a few last minutes to blog from Belgium. I think this is an appropriate last Brussels post . . .

This morning, MiniMe snarfed a chocolate muffin that LadyMoody (Hi, Erin) made & gave her last night. She licked her lips and declared that was the best muffin ever.

Really?

My curiosity was totally piqued because MiniMe is not a chocolate fan - at all. So, I asked her,

When did you start liking chocolate, Cupcake?

And, she responded,

When I tried that chocolate those Belgian kids were eating.

Yep, it's been a good time here in Brussels.

And (oops!), Man just noticed that I was blogging and not reading email & asked what I could possibly have to blog about when I should be packing & loading up & drying my hair & applying some kind of make-up. Hurry up already. We don't have all day.

Hey, I was writing about Belgian chocolate, Babe. Give a girl a break.

OK, I really gotta run. United Airlines waits for no one.

And, neither does Man.

Batteries Not Included

Disclaimer: This did not happen to me or anyone I know. Even if you think it did.
It didn't. Just like Law & Order. OK?

As you all know, I am smack dab in the middle of a PCS, which happens to be military-speak for we are moving and it sucks. Once you PCS a few times, you develop tips and tricks for making the move less painful.

For instance:

Tip #2: All pens and Sharpies need to be placed into Ziplock bags prior to being packed up. This way, should anything leak, your couch will not be permanently wearing the evidence.

Tip #38: Round up all remotes and make sure they are packed up in a logical box -- like the one from the living room that also contains DVD's and the cables for the AV equipment. It's not so good if they are scattered all around & inevitably packed with towels, barbies and/or canned food. Especially when you really just want to crash in front of Desperate Housewives but the necessary remote is in an unpacked box of "Misc" items from the basement.

Tip #16: Have the movers tape all hardware to the piece of furniture to which it belongs. That way everything is handy for the other movers to reassemble with no excuses as to why they can't. Sorry, ma'am. We can't find the hardware. And, not that we looked very hard, either.

Tip #8: Have the movers load the tool box last. Very last. That way you have it handy at both ends. Last on a crate, first off. It's frustrating to need a screwdriver & have to substitue a licked-clean plastic fork from a Taco Bell lunch. Not that I would personally know, or anything. I'm just saying.

Tip #28: Have a Sharpie of your own handy. That way if the movers are labeling your boxes in a foreign language (Russian, Polish, etc), you can relabel in English while the contents are fresh on your mind.

Tip #5: Pets should be removed from the premises or locked in a room movers won't access. Our movers in San Antonio shared with us about a cat gone missing and found 6 weeks later inside the fold-out couch. It was a July move to Texas.

Tip #12: If you have good movers, they will pack out one room and leave the boxes in that room until ready to load. This will give you time to clearly label whose boxes are whose. Especially if you are us and everything kinder is labeled "Girl's Room" without specifiying Laze-E vs. MiniMe. Seriously, Laze-E might freak out if Rosie ended up in her room by mistake.

And, my favorite tip (#1, in case you are wondering) from this current move is Vodka. A little buzz is the only way to go. Just make sure the cat is locked in the bathroom beforehand. You'd hate to get all tipsy and forget about kitty & all those boxes.

These are just a few small tips and suggestions that could make your life easier if you happen to have a move in the works. We always feed our movers too. It might cost a bit on the front end, but the results are definitely worth it. If you have German movers, we have found that they love Dr. Pepper. But, don't just guess. Ask them what American junk they want. They may go nuts over Doritos too. Really, it's a small price to pay.

Especailly considering that the movers are about to rummage through everything you own. And, if you PCS like I do (I refuse to pack anything myself), the movers will see it all.

Everything.

Alles.

And, this fact brings me to HausFrau's PCS Tip #23: Locate EVERYTHING that is battery operated and remove the batteries.

Yes, you should do this anyway. Something about salt water (especially for an overseas move) corroding batteries and ruining your electronics. But that pales in comparision to other SNAFU's that batteries can create.

Just imagine that you happen to own (& remember I don't & neither does anyone I know in real life), oh how shall I delicately put this?

A rather large . . .

purple . . .

battery operated . . .

thing.

OK. Fine. It's a purple vibrator that got stashed away in some bedroom drawer & you (not me or anyone I know in real life) forgot all about owning the dumb thing in the first place.

Until . . .

one of your movers comes beebopping down the stairs carrying a box labeled "Master Bedroom".

And, that particular box is shaking & vibrating & buzzing & rattling & rocking & rolling like nobody's business.

At this particular moment in time, you might even choke on Dr. Pepper & Doritos as it all comes rushing back to you.

Oh, Yeah!

That Surprise Party over at the Capt's Wife's Haus back during the last deployment. Something about one too many cosmopolitans & the VISA just came flying out of your wallet. And a week later the rather large & purple & anatomically correct device shows up via Military Postal Service.

See? It's moments like these where you want your movers big-fat-squishy-hearting you for bringing them Popeye's or Taco Bell for lunch. Perhaps, they will overlook minor things like vibrating boxes. Or at least act like they know nothing about it (vibrating? what vibrating?!) as they walk past you out to Crate #12 of 16.

But, let's consider for one moment that you panicked for no reason at all. Let's just say all that buzzing & vibrating was a battery operated shaver that your Man was using during his last deployment.

You just overreacted & panicked for no reason. It was just a shaver. Silly. Next time drop some Vodka in the Dr. Pepper. Okay?

So, you survive this PCS & live to tell about it at your next duty station. Where . . .

You've unpacked every last box, hung every last picture, displayed every last piece of Polish Pottery and you are ready to invite the ladies over for coffee. A kind of Haus-Warming-Get-to-Know-Me kind of shindig. All very prim & proper because you are the new girl on the block and you've yet to figure out exactly who will be your Bunco & Bourbon Buddies.

You are serving coffee cake and coffee. All chit chat is appropriate & socially acceptable. Everyone is having a lovely time.

All the little girls are quietly upstairs playing dress-up. Everything is skittles and sunshine in your world.

Until your 4 year old comes beebooping down the stairs (can you say déjà vu?) in her tutu . . .

Look Mommy! I found THIS (ta-dah!) in my dress-up drawer underneath all my tutu's. Is it a fairy wand? Can I have it?

Let me tell you something, girlfriend. If you did not know who your new BFF's were before that particular moment in time, you do now. They are the classy ones who actually laugh out loud as they choke on coffee and cake.

Next PCS, though . . . you might consider packing up a few things before the movers arrive.

Riding in Style

Yesterday, Man & I checked off another little box on our Brussels Escape Plan. This time the little tick mark went in front of Ship the Pilot. Now both of our vehicles are en route to Baltimore & we are driving a rental car for the next week.

This particular rental is a sporty silver BMW. No, it's not that kind of BMW. This one is a manual transmission with cloth seats. But, it's still cute, new and it is a BMW. Even better, it's small enough that we can park it anywhere we want. And, still be able to get out of the car.

Laze-E took a little spin in the car last night while I was ferrying her over to TGirl's haus for yet another sleepover. She was totally checking the car out, imagining herself in the driver's seat, I'm sure. She liked the size, the color & after turning on the radio, deemed the sound system not bad. The über-impressive push button ignition sealed the deal. She wants this car.

Sure thing, Sunshine. Your BMW wish is my command.

While I was ignoring the fact that my 13 year old is planning for her first car to be a new BMW, I did make one comment.

Yeah, those German's sure know how to make a car, don't they?

Her response (and I type with shaky unbelieving fingers . . . )

BMW is German?!

Yeah, SweetPea, it stands for Bavarian Motor Works. Or Bayern Motor Werks to be more specific. You know, Bavaria/Bayern. We lived there.

Twice.

Yes, my friends, this is just more proof that I'm going to have to drag that girl back to Deutschland for another assignment. By that time, she might be (technically) old enough to drive. And, we will certainly buy her a cute little BMW.

Hooptie.

Circa 1992.

Not Autobahn compatible.

Offer void where prohibited by law. Not valid in Alaska or Hawaii. While supplies last.

Temporary Schloss

We made it out of the Haus this week and into the hotel-apartment as we begin Phase 2 of the Move to DC. I don't want to mislead anyone, so let me be very clear about this: we aren't actually living in a hotel room. We have an apartment & it happens to be a very nice, complete with Internet access, full kitchen & digital cable.

But we are so spoiled & accustomed to living a life of luxury (I know, I know, just another middle class sob story) that a 1000 sq ft, 2 bedroom, 1 bath apartment, complete with Internet access, full kitchen & digital cable is a big step down for us.

First of all . . . sharing the laptop. All 4 of us?! We were having problems juggling two computers before. Man needs his time to continue to look for a job (I know, I know, at this point it's an addiciton, but if he can fanagle a follow-on Germany assignment, who am I to judge?) & check the news & weather in San Antonio (I know, I know . . .). MiniMe needs her computer time to play Webkinz & Littlest Pet Shop (so they don't die! & yes, I'd like to have a little face-to-face with whomever told her that these particular virtual pets even possess the ability to kick the bucket) and Laze-E who must have proper access to iTunes.

And, me. I need to listen to AOL Awesome 80's, FaceBook & Blog pay bills & search for dinner recipes.

So here we are a the temporary location of Schloss Rockin'Bauer. We were here a whoppinh 15 minutes & everyone immediately got down to business fulfilling our stereotypical roles.

Man's main task was to get the Vonage phone & Internet up and running as quickly as possible. MiniMe's job was to sit quietly on the couch and watch Fairly Odd Parents in Dutch so that we could get the technology situated.

Laze-E immediately started complaining about having to share a room with her sister & they both proceeded to fight over who was going to sleep on which bed. Once you pull out the trundle & pop it up, the beds are the exact same. They were arguing over which wall they wanted to sleep against. Hey, don't accuse my kids of not sweating the small stuff.

Laze-E did take time out from the bitching to strike a pose for me. She's smart enough to know that if she's going to throw a temper tantrum that the photographic evidence may very well be blog-worthy.

When 6 o'clock pm rolled around it was adult TV time (Everybody Hates Chris, According to Jim & Friends - in English) & we booted MiniMe to our bedroom to watch a library movie on the portable DVD player. There's only so much kid-TV we can tolerate. Especially when it's in Dutch.


Once Laze-E claimed her space, it took her all of about, oh, 34 seconds to trash the room out. Here she is yakking on the phone with TGirl, listening to her iPod & staying out of trouble - for this one brief moment in time.

At least I think she was staying out of trouble . . .

Where am I? Behind the camera, silly. I think I mentioned something about sterotypical jobs around the Haus.

That, and I immediately got down to the business of FaceBooking & Blogging vacuuming, scrubbing toilets & cooking dinner.

Hey, we don't call me HausFrau for nothing.

Not Just Boxes

By noon on Moving Day #3, life is getting much easier around the Haus. Our bulging suitcases are at the hotel, the cat is locked in the bathroom, kids are at school & I'm goofing off online because our movers rock & are leaving the computer up and running until the bitter end.

Man is out hunting down Chinese Take-Out for lunch. We all know I was the one to take everyone's order, call the restaurant, place the order & tell him where to go. But he's actually the one doing the heavy lifting. Hey, there's still snow & slush on the ground & finding a parking place might be a bit of a problem.

For him.

Life is good.

Or as close to good as a PCS can get.

The movers have 3 crates loaded & are working on the other 3 for today - which will be roughly half of our stuff. This is what destressing looks like, one crate at a time.

At this point, I'm sipping on virgin iced tea because I drank all the vodka yesterday there's not much to stress about today. I am watching Judge Alex (who, by the way, is so much hotter than Judy) and occasionally, I'll wander around the Haus checking on progress.

To help pass the time, I also like to play Guess What. It's a geek way to keep my brain fine-tuned so in Virginia next month (please let it be next month) I'll immediately know what's coming off the crates & where to have it delivered.

While wandering, I'll look at all the little boxes & see how they are labeled. "Office books", "VCR Tapes", "Kitchen Decor - Top Load" (and they'd better!), "Polish Pottery", "Polish Pottery", "Polish Pottery", "Schrank Glassware", "Schrank Glassware", "Schrank Glassware", "Schrank Glassware", etc, etc, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah.

Not everything fits nicely into little boxes & those items are wrapped in cardboard and/or bubble wrap. Some items are super easy-peasy to guess.

For instance, this is the couch.

And this is our king-sized pillow top mattress.

It's already sorely missed. One night in a hotel and it's a major bitch-fest about crappy mattresses. But you don't want to hear about that . . .

This piece of furniture is the recliner.

And, under this cardboard hides a dining room chair.

Now, not everything is wrapped in such a way that you can immediately determine what's inside. For instance, I came across this item & scratched my head . . . . hmmmmm. What is that?

Anyone care to guess? Anyone?

If you been paying attention, this should be easy-peasy. Super easy-peasy.

Take care, Rosie. See ya in DC.