Meet Nate

So, Aquaman and I joined the 21st century...or possibly just the late 20th century...and got a real live cellphone. It's part of an effort to keep me and my extrovert tendencies connected to the world outside of our northwoods city. Namely, to keep me connected to Balabusta and Bee.

The problem with my GLORIOUS iphone is that Sprint was a leedle bit hasty in reassigning a used number to me. Enter Nate, stage left.

Nate used to have my cell phone number. Nate gets texts from needy, overemotional girls who have, like, so much homework and are feeling, like, super stressed and really, really would appreciate it if Nate could take their shift at the Pizza restaurant. (I don't like whiny girls, so they're on their own to get that shift covered).

Also, the stone cold girls who I think are gunning for Nate. As in, they may be the reason Nate changed his number. These girls sound like they are looking for Nate after a less-than-happy parting and want blood. I wish they'd text because their cold, emotionless voices scare me.

I also know what Nate looks like. Someone texted a picture to Nate that they've found his twin.

This is why all the girls are calling.

 

 

There's the random friend who I guess plays Marco Polo via text message? At least, that was what I was figuring when someone texted:

 

Marco?

 

Marco?

 

(Because I can't handle the thought of adding in Marco to the mix, please tell me it was a game of Marco Polo).

 

 

I was also invited to a poker game. Or probably it was for Nate, but it felt nice to feel included, and like I was making friends in the far north. But the game started at 10pm (hardcore poker) and I would have to bring a nursing baby. I wasn't sure what all the guys would think about that, so I passed.

 

And then, then, last night. Or this morning really. 1:51 am I received this gem:

 

 





 

(I don't know why the phone says 9:52, I got this at 1:51 when I was up with the Lion Cub)

 

Thankfully, Bee was up in the middle of her day on the other side of the world so we were able to discuss the dark turn Nate's life was taking. And to google what a 20 bag is.

 

 

 

 

 

Alas, Balabusta's not an easy woman to impress. When Bee filled her in on our

special naivete + math smarts, she assumed we were idiots trying to make meth and not able to read the recipe. Warm fuzzies all the way around.

 

And now, I may be off to text Nate's friend from Saginaw and tell him I don't know where he can score a 20 bag, but I'd be willing to pray with him and refer him to some treatment facilities.

 

--Kae--



The cheapest apartments we can find

As Señor and I wait out the Great Marine-Air Force Housing War, we were tasked to go house hunt anyway. House hunting here is pretty awesome. You call an agent, tell them what you want, then the agent picks you up and brings you to a bunch of places to look at. Super high class. Although today, with our local native agent driving, I seriously thought we were going to be squashed weaving in and out of traffic on the impossibly skinny streets here. Not as terrifying as Ethiopian driving, but a close close second. Here they at least put mirrors on the sharp blind curves in their streets big enough for one car, so you can at least see the head-on collision coming.

Single homes here are nearly impossible to find, so Señor and I had this poor woman driving us all over the city to show us the few that were available. First was this little house that I imagine a grandmother had before us, judging by the wallpaper. The outside was the only colorful house we had seen in our hunts.

Special guest appearance by our agent

Now I was instantly attracted to that tower-looking thing on the front. What girl doesn't want to sit on the top of that and wait for her prince to come? Maybe dangle her hair out the window a little bit?

See? Perfect place to fight a dragon out the window.

Onward to the next house. I wish Señor had gotten a picture of the front yard (although I guess the agent said it would be "fixed" before anyone moved in). It was a wild mess of purple and red flowers, complete with a rusted out VW-ish van.

The next in our house montage. We refer to it as "that place with the yard and no stove."

As you can see, there are tatami mats on the floor in the background there. They're pretty awesome looking and in literally every house we have seen. Señor and I, being apparently uncultured, aren't sure what we are supposed to do with these rooms. All we were told is don't put furniture on the mats, as they are crazy expensive to fix after giant American couches have put dents in them. So I guess we would keep it as a showpiece room? Just for looks? Take our afternoon tea there?

The view from the next apartment. I'd like to point out the baby in giant shoes, showing off his junk. I tried to politely ask the agent what that meant but she just smiled and walked away. Anyway, not a view I want from my bedroom.

The agent ran out of houses to show us, so we went to see some apartments. This one wasn't super impressive, but the next one....

If you crane your next off the large balcony, you can see hills and sort-of the ocean in the background.

Far too much looking at disappointing places

The last couple places we saw were such a hard "NO" we didn't really take pictures. On the bright side, these were our safe apartments. The ones that just me, with my lowly housing allowance, can get. Today Señor is spending his day going office to office, pleading his case to get housing allowance, and I am going to look at the high-end apartments of the city. Señor was pretty upset he couldn't come with, as who wants to look at the cheap apartments but not the rockin' ones? I promised him about 5,000 pictures per apartment/house, so I'll have plenty more to share.

In other news of the weekend, Señor and I camped on a little beach cove (thankfully in a tent, since I have never seen that many hermit crabs in one place before!).

The view from our window...of the tent

This was all followed by a lovely little drive up the coast....

To get to this little place tucked in the mountains....

And there we spent a lovely afternoon with Señor's friends (we shall call them The Boots), splashing around, swinging on rope swings, jumping off rocks (not me, don't worry, Balabusta), and generally relaxing.

And thus completes my weekend update. I'm sure Kae is as excited as I am to see what sort of high-end homes this place has to offer, so I'll report back.

Homeless

Okay, Kae, I don't know how this is going to work out. There's this problem, you see, outside of the US where your computer recognizes you're in a different country and tries to send you to that country's respective google, blogger, whatever. I CANNOT TURN OFF THIS COUNTRY'S BLOGGER. So, I will be fumbling around with this website I can't read until it works. Or it deletes my post and I give up in disgust and go back to eating my Pringles/watching Dr. Phil on AFN (Armed Forces Network) in peace.

Kae has been begging for an update. I more or less dropped off the grid once my flight left the American Heartland. You see, I was stuck in the Heartland FAR longer than necessary. I showed up for my first flight, and the flight was cancelled. The reason? The pilot's seat moved around too much for his liking. I'm sorry, but you're flying a whole plane of people out of this godforsaken place. Put the pilot in his seat, duct tape that thing in place, and call it done. I guess not. So, they could only get me a flight out the next day, and I got put up in a hotel for the next night.

I showed up AGAIN the next day, and what do you know? The flight is cancelled. I went up to the same airline agent with a trembling chin and quietly asked to be let out of the state. I have never seen an airline person work so fast. He quickly got me a flight a few hours later (on a different airline) and I was flown BACK to the airport by Hillbilly Holler. All that, just to end up where I started. It wasn't until I was in my seat on the international flight, on the runway, that I finally relaxed. It didn't matter if I didn't make my last connecting flight, at least it would be doable.

Fast forward through customs/immigration (and a couple day break in writing this in which I had to navigate through non-English prompts to get to my saved draft and somehow ended up on someone else's blog), and Señor and I walking circles in the final airport (yet not finding each other) and here I am.

The people I'm stationed with here are amazing. As many crazy stories as I have told Kae, she can rest assured that there are some awesome people looking out for her (and, you know, the country, but I'm sure she's thinking of her safety). Aside from that, getting settled with Señor here has been chaos. Who knew there was such deep seeded anger between our branches (um, EVERYONE). But, basically it's 10 days in now and we are nowhere near having a place to live. Señor is still in his barracks, I'm in a hotel. He drives about 45 minutes every night to see me for, oh, an hour before we both fall asleep out of heat exhaustion, then he drives 45 minutes back to his base to make it in time for the crazy curfews he has. Not ideal.

On the bright side, I'm getting a car in a few hours. Cars are crazy easy to buy here. Especially if you prey on the desperate people who are about to head back to the states and HAVE to sell their cars they can't bring to the states. Pictures to come, I promise, Kae.

That's the short and sweet of it. There are more adventures to come, as I am currently being kicked out of my hotel for a couple nights due to overbooking and literally every place around here is full this weekend.  Kae was very excited to hear I will probably pitch a tent in a ditch somewhere and be homeless for a couple days. I promise to take pictures.

Popping tags with baby in tow

Ye olde blogge was resurrected for the sake of a certain Grandma and Grandpa (and some Aunties) now that we live a distance away. If you aren't a relation, I encourage you now to look away from the most tedious train wreck of a post that's coming at you. Unless you enjoy detailed itineraries of nothingness. In which case, read on.

I started the day with a headache, which is the kids' favorite kind of day. It means I get a slow (slower than my usual molasses pace) start and they are welcome to all the science videos they want while I crawl to the kitchen. (Disclaimer: Pipsqueak does not enjoy these mornings. He doesn't enjoy anything that stands between him and his morning carbs).

Our day took a surprising turn for the better when my mom and dad (Balabusta and Pops) decided to cut their Canadian Border camping trip short. They may not have enjoyed the mosquitoes, cold, and torrential rains, but the kids and I were happy that all drove them straight into our needy, needy arms for a visit.

The raging river in the background is the one Blondie wanted to "explore".

 

And since absence makes the heart grow fonder, Balabusta and Pops brought us smoked salmon, smoked ciscoe, and cheese curds. You can take my word for it that it's like heaven's lunch buffet.

 

Then home for naps and a surprise email from Aquaman that tonight would be a good night to go out on the boat so we're all ready to go be spectators at our city's big marathon tomorrow. We had planned to sail up the shore and watch it, but Aquaman- while toiling away at work- got the idea that he and some of the kids should get a headstart going up the coast from the marina tonight. And by some of the kids, he meant all of them except the baby. (It might have had something to do with my not-overly-dramatic speech yesterday (and the day before, and the day before that...) about my mental exhaustion with all these little attitudes I'm daily butting heads with.

 

So, as of 5 pm I was off the clock. (Other than the six feedings I will be attending to during the overnight hours.) And the Lion Cub and I will be walking 2.4 miles to meet them at the harbor tomorrow.

 

Lion Cub and I started our party by hitting up my new favorite place in all the land:

 

 

 

 He loves poppin' tags. He's my little thrifting buddy.

 

 

2 rashguards/swimshirts for the big boys, a new pair of cargo pants for Lanky, a t-shirt for me, and a Savers Membership Card later, we rolled into Target to spend a bit of the birthday money Balabusta and Pops gave me:

 



Why, yes, they are from the little girls' section. They're way cheaper and way more comfortable than women's shoes. And sparkly gold.

 

 

And then a white knuckle-ish drive home:

 

 Maybe not so scary for people who don't have a history of driving into lakes/ponds during fog.

 

 

And the Lion Cub was all tuckered out from our exciting evening:

 



 

And my victory dance of the quiet evening was cut short by Mr. Giggles:

 





 



I may or may not have figured out uploading this video. Summary: Lion Cub laughs like a donkey. No baby giggles here.

 

 

Where we then proceeded to write the most boringest of all blog posts. The end, amen.

 

 

--Kae--

One last hurrah...

...with Bee before she went overseas.

Bee had a week of leave before being sent overseas. It could have been a week and 2 days, but a combination of airline's ineptness and Air Force beuracracy left her stranded in America's Heartland all alone while they kept delaying and cancelling her flight for 2 days. Way to take care of our troops, United Airlines.

But, back to the positive. Bee came up to our new place to visit AND she brought 2 of our nieces (who happen to be Lanky, Specs, and Matilda's best friends). It may not sound like much of a sacrifice, but since Blondie had dog poop on her shoe and used Bee's car rug (which Blondie then referred to as a "poop scraper") to get it off, I'm counting it as a sacrifice of love. Chalupa did her part for Auntie Bee by getting mud all over the seat/seat back/door and proudly announcing she kept the rug (aka poop scraper) clean. Nice work, Chalupa.

Playing in "The Wilderness". Rest assured, Emme, your children were only playing unsupervised at the little nature preserve/trickling creek next door to our house.

 

 

 

And of course I don't have any pictures of our walk to the park for lunch. Because I was too busy once we got to the park trying to keep Blondie from "exploring" the river that runs through the park complete with waterfall and rapids before flowing out to the Great Lakes. In other words, not something you're going to want to explain to your brother/sister-in-law when their little darling falls in.

 

But after lunch, park time, panic-inducing experiences at water's edge, I  decided it would be fun to walk for ice cream cones.

 

The walk lasted about five minutes and then turned into a forced march through the heat of the day. (Seriously, it was the one warm/hot day we've had up here. We were going to enjoy it. We were going to enjoy it good.)



 

Blondie was the spokesperson for the group and announced it was like being lost in the desert "with no shade, no water, and no ice cream". Which was a little strange because Blondie usually thrives on drama (see above re: dangerous river rapids).

We finally made it to the oasis (which you may know as Burger King) only to find out that particular branch of royalty does not sell ice cream. We got even by using their air conditioning for free and confiscating the crown jewels. Then I bought a gallon of ice cream and a box of cones from the gas station next door and moved the war prisoners kids back out to finish the walk.

Royally exhausted.

 

Shade. Sweet, sweet shade.

 

It's lke an oasis. On some stranger's lawn.

 

Riding in the shaded chariot was apparently the way to go. (And there wasn't enough shade for my little redhead, so the carriage was draped with an Ethiopian shawl. Hence, the fancy fringe.)

 

Once you've done bootcamp in Texas, you can manage a walk in the afternoon sun with pep leftover.

 



 

So, back home for ice cream cones and refreshing dunks of their heads under the kitchen faucet (which was not condoned). Blondie stuck her head under the water with her head smashed right up to the faucet while water sprayed ever.y.where. After Bee pulled her out and dryed her, she said, "It's like she didn't have an exit strategy. No towel, no way to reach the water and turn it off. No exit strategy."

 

And then, because they're gluttons for punishment, they wanted right back out to "The Wilderness".

 

Isn't the wilderness always freshly mowed?

 

 

It's like a game of Where's Waldo. With 7 Waldos.

 

Waldo #8, always close at hand.

 

 

He's our favorite photo prop.

 

 

And while in the wilderness, we realized that Bee has the fashion sense of a seven year old. Matchy-matchy with the little girls

 

 

There was one last family shindig to see Bee off after this, before she left for her new home with Señor in a foreign land. But this was our last hurrah of sister time until she flies home again. Which, if is left in the hands of United Airlines, may or may not come to pass in a timely fashion.

 

 

But I've got my eye on you, United Airlines, US Marine Corps, US Air Force. And none of you are going to get in the way of more sister time.

 

--Kae--



 

 

 

 





Moving on up...

...to the north.

The caravan we drove north. In the fog. With screaming babies and children. To sign papers to buy a house where it was snowing/sleeting in June. June.

I currently blog using the neighbor's wifi connection. And I've finally unpacked enough chargers/camera cords to make a blog post less lame.


Here's the view from our new house, which is of the water. Which is what drew us way the heck up to the Arctic. (Or the Twin Ports. But it's 50 degrees in June. So I'm laying claim to our near Arctic status).

 

I spend the day listening to the cargo (?) ships' horns and spotting the fishing charters, scenic cruises and Coast Guard boats go by. Like any boat obsessed 4 year old boy would do.

 

But that's still a better use of time than when I'm looking out the window on the other side of the house, where I have a nice view of all the neighbors and their business. And I since I spend a significant amount of my day nursing the baby while I gaze out the window, I'm able to keep Aquaman apprised of what all the neighbors are up to. Like the guy who lives across the street and leaves every day at noon to get Jimmy John's and bring it home for lunch. Don't worry, nothing is going to be missed on my watch.

We are all adjusting quite well to city living. I can't attest to how the neighbors are adjusting to us, but we're doing great. Last week, Aquaman was driving home from work and heard the kids (namely Lanky) screaming and playing from two blocks away. He thought he would come home to find them running joyfully through the backyard. Oh no. They were in the living room. With the windows closed.

But, back to the water. Which is awesome. Instead of luuuuuuuuugging our sailboat hours away on a trailer, we pop over to the marina.

 

She doesn't know right from left, but she has port and starboard down solid.

 

Looking...cool? confident? smarmy?

 

He didn't catch anything, but Aquaman is a good dad and jumped to every time Lanky yelled out that he had a bite.

 

The on-again, off-again frenemies cuddled up for naptime.

 

Naptime down below.

 

 

Ahoy, mateys.

 

 

--Kae--



Bee's anticlimatic return

I checked our stats, Kae. You don't want to know what searches got people to our blog. On the bright side though, we have quite the following Latvia!

My last few months have not been as filled with adorable babies and children like Kae's has. It's been a little filled with it, as I am currently close enough to Hillbilly Holler to visit once a month or so. Mostly it's been living in a hotel (a very, very lonely hotel) and trying to keep myself entertained with Señor Marine on the other side of the world. Mostly that entertainment came from nagging Señor Marine with messages every chance I get, a little sewing on the sewing machine he got me for Valentine's Day to keep me busy, and watching a lot of TV. A LOT.

Mostly this post is going to be about the DIY purse dyeing I tried out. Now, I tried to buy a used Marc Jacobs purse on ebay. I should have known something was wrong when I won a $12 purse. I got it in the mail the next week and saw all the things wrong with it that were not in the ebay pictures.

The overall view, minus the handle

The lovely pen marks, accentuated by the areas where the original color is completely worn off.

Now, I tried to sell it again on ebay. No one wanted it. Señor Marine told me to cut my losses and give it to Goodwill or something. Nice thought, but I had been reading up on how to dye leather purses, so I thought I'd give it a shot. That was how one rainy afternoon I ended up at Tandy Leather in the middle of the ghetto, and found the nicest man ever who was partially amused by my need to dye a purse and partially impressed that I didn't care about messing it up. 

This nasty smelling stuff completely strips everything off the leather. Just spread it all over the purse with a rag and watch to see what comes off.

After one pass with the deglazer. I'm not sure if that's dirt or dye, but it looked disgusting either way.

After the deglazer, I had a nice stripped-down white-ish purse to work with, instead of the original dirty white. Then came the dye. I had such a dilemma at the leather store. The salesman pointed me towards the right type of dye, and then debated colors with me. He was pretty into the color I chose: neon pink.

My lovely pink color, which I mistakenly thought would be a light pink. Just wait.

The leather man recommended mixing 1 part dye and 1 part water. It worked out kind of okay, but it was MUCH better the next day when it was less soupy. I don't know how that happened, but it did.

So there I was, on the floor of my hotel room with my sponge brushes, painting a $500 leather purse. It was pretty fun. I did the main part of the purse on the first day, then the next day when everything was dry, I did the bottom and the handle. It took a bajillion coats the first day (okay, it was like 5 or 6) but only a couple the next day when the dye mixture seemed less watery.

Coat one

Coat two

Coat three

Coat four

Final product!

I have been waiting to take it out to wear, so I don't have a final outfit picture with it. The reason is it's been crazy rainy here the past few days, and I'm not 100% convinced the dye is completely waterproof. How do I know, you may ask? I came back from running the other day and with my disgustingly sweaty hand, moved the purse, and got a little pink on my fingers. So, I'll either not take it out when it's rainy, not take it out on runs, or get a sealant for it.

So that's what I've been up to. Yep, pretty awesome. I'm not creating life or molding little minds, like Kae, but I am turning the world pepto-bismal pink, one accessory at a time.