I am the fiddle.

I've been thinking alot about a conversation I had last weekend. It was over the phone with my little brother Tanner, who's featured swinging in my profile picture. On the typical Sunday, I take a drive to Carson and visit him, my other brother Austen, and my dad, but lately no day has been typical and I've been slacking in my sisterly duties and I haven't seen the kids in over two weeks. So I got a call last Sunday. My dad was on the phone first and simply said "somebody would like a word with you," and before I could say anything, he handed the phone off to Tanner. Imagine, if you will, the most pathetic, heart wrenching, 3 year old sniffly sad baby voice you have ever heard saying "you not coming home?" and you'll have a small idea of what I was up against. I, suddenly feeling like the most horrible and inconsiderate letdown this world has ever seen, started to explain that I couldn't "come home" because I had to pack and it was too late and the roads were icy and I'd be down the following weekend, but Tanner, prepared for the debate, cut short what I thought was a pretty decent explanation with another "you not coming home?" Only this time his voice was a littler sadder and there was an audible sob at the end. This kid knows what he's doing. Feeling much less confident and much more on the edge of sobbing myself, I started explaining again, but it was of no use. The little guy kept repeating those four words, getting more and more pathetic and teary each time, and I started thinking that maybe, just maybe, if I left right then I could make it down there, even though he'd be in bed and the roads would be treacherous and I probably wouldn't be back in Reno before midnight, but it'd be worth it if Tanner was once again happy with his demonic sister. After a few minutes of this agonizing conversation, the phone was quite abruptly taken over by my dad. "Sorry about that," he said, as I daubed at my damp eyes, "he wouldn't let me rest until he talked to you. And don't worry, he's been doing this kind of stuff alot lately. It's his new way of getting what he wants, so don't feel pressured to come down, we'll just see you next weekend. In fact, he's sitting at the kitchen counter right now eating a cookie and smiling at me." I was still engulfed by remorse, so I ended the conversation rather quickly, saying I'd be down the following weekend. And now, over a week later, I keep replaying this conversation, with a little kid who's not even four yet, and thinking about how he played me. Played me like a fiddle. He sat at the kitchen counter and ate a cookie, smiling and giggling and satisfied with the trauma he had put me through, while I sat on my couch for an hour, motionless with sorrow and wanting only to give him a big bear hug. He will have just turned six when I get back from Romania, and Austen will be nearly seven. I don't want to think about how much of a stranger I will be to them by then. I'll be that weird lady we've all had an encounter with who pinches cheeks and says "I remember you when you were THIS big! Come and sit on my lap." If only I could "come home" every few weeks and keep up the sisterness. Ah well, hopefully the occasional phone call will keep me semi real to them and, if not, it's just two years and I'll be able to make up time when I get back, right? Right. OR they could come and visit me. I think that's the optimal solution.

Bit by bit

You may have noticed that the list of items for sale/donation over on the right side of the screen is gone. That's because the majority of the furniture has been taken away to a new home and the few remaining bits have been claimed. Now my apartment is nearly empty and there's nowhere to set my glass of water and it's too dark to read in my usual spot because all of my lamps were purchased. But the sofa's gone so there's no comfortable way for me to read in that corner anyways and my computer desk has left, causing me to improvise with my dining table. And I'm not sure where to sit or what to do. Home is no longer home and the comfort is gone. Just keep looking towards the future, right? I'll try.

But, on a positive note, a huge part of this inevitable moving process was finished today and I am just as relieved as I am discombobulated. Thanks to those who participated, you're helping me get to Romania!

Nauseous in a good way

My staging kit came in the mail yesterday and I just got off the phone with Sato travel, confirming my flight arrangements. Please join me in a happy (and nauseous) dance. A nauppy dance.

Because there's no way I could leave Reno on the 18th and be in Philly by 1:30 that day to register for training, Peace Corps is arranging for me to leave on the 17th and spend my final night as a non-trainee in Philly, which is cool. Hopefully I'll get a chance to check out the sites a little, especially since I've never been there and have heard it's a neat place. Because I really like to look at flight schedules, and maybe you do, too, here's what I know about my schedule so far.

Sunday, February 17th:
Depart Reno NV at 7:05am and arrive in Dallas TX at 12:15pm, with a good book ready to rock
Depart Dallas TX at 3:30pm and arrive in Philly at 7:40 pm

Monday the 18th:
Register for training starting at 1:30, training goes from 3 to 7pm

Tuesday the 19th:
Training from 8:30am to 6pm with 1.5 hours for lunch

Wednesday the 20th (here's where it gets a bit more exciting):
Depart hotel for JFK airport at 8:30am
Depart JFK airport at 4:20pm and arrive in Frankfurt, Germany at 5:50am, Thursday (ow.) 7hrs 30min travel time

Thursday the 21st:
Depart Frankfurt Germany at 10:40am and arrive in Bucharest Romania at 2pm
2hrs 20min travel time

Beyond that, I have NO clue what the schedule will be like, which I find oddly enjoyable. I like not knowing what the heck I'll be doing a month from now, other than training and stumbling over Romanian words in Ploiesti. Happy dance? Happy dance.

Not entirely peace corps related...

Wow...it's been over a week since my last entry? Whoops. Guess there's not much to report, other than packing, anxiety, more packing, excitement, caramel lattes, anxiety, crossword puzzles, music, making donations, going over the Romanian numbers in my head, packing, going to movies, making a to do list, misplacing the to do list, spending the rest of the afternoon looking for the to do list, and anxiety. I go through the complete roller coaster of emotions every single day and the the worst is at night. I've never been a solid sleeper, but the past few weeks have been flat out pathetic, feeling wide awake through much of the night and dead tired all day long. If you want my opinion, insomnia sucks. It sucks life, it sucks energy, it sucks motivation.

On a different note (and sorry if I digress here), I donated the majority of my clothes to the Salvation Army today (sorry, Ace...the urge to get rid of it NOW came over me and I couldn't resist), but the clothes took a little detour on their way there in a rather embarrassing way. Via the Internet, I found this place in town that accepts modern and in-good-condition clothing to resell to youth for cheap and gives you cash in return and I, appreciating the idea and thinking my clothes were fairly decent, took in seven bags of my finest. The moment I walked in the door, surrounded by bright tiny tees, adorable hand bags, skinny jeans, and the surprisingly fashionable teens who wear them, I realized how very little I know about what is considered "modern" in the world of American apparel today. I am twenty seven, haven't entered a high school in nearly 10 years (even when I was in high school, my trends certainly left something to be desired in the eyes of the popular vote), don't read magazines, and don't watch TV. In hindsight, when it comes to fashion, I am absolutely clueless, and I'm ok with that. But, after the pleasant cashier gave me a sympathetic smile, called me hun, and asked me if I wanted to sell some stuff, I decided to go through with it. Heck, I thought, maybe they'll recognize some hidden hot new trend amongst the bags and buy them all. It'll be the E-trend...emerging, slowly at first, from the underground clubs right here in Reno, but once it hits LA, it'll spread like wild fire and splash on billboards, even though I hate billboards, throughout New York and London. Maybe even Moscow. These are my thoughts as I transport the bags from my car to the store and by the time I lay the last bag on the counter, I'm jubilant and excited. But the clerk no longer looks happy. I didn't realize you had SEVEN bags, she said, with a bit of a snarl and a look of disgust directed at my pile. She told me to come back the next day to pick up what they didn't want. My jubilant bubble withered as I drove home and envisioned the staff of this store going through my clothes, the things I've lived my life in for the past few years, while chortling and making vicious jokes and sighing angrily about having to go through so much ugly crap. I didn't realize how easy it is to reenter high school and all the insecure, stupid emotions that go with it. By the next day, after telling myself I didn't care and it was just clothing and they can all have their silly little fashion clique, I stopped by the store. A new clerk was there. I told her my name and she gave me a wry, tired smile and went to the other end of the counter and, one by one, placed the same seven paper bags on the counter in front of me as I tried desperately to control the red tinge of embarrassment crawling up my cheeks. Your clothes, she explained, are a little outdated and that's why we're not buying them. There are four items we'd like to buy, though, and are offering you $4.45 for them. I couldn't help but laugh and repeat the price. With an unchanging and bored expression, she said Yes, $4.45. Do you accept our offer? I smiled and accepted, putting the money in my wallet without counting it, not caring what the four "items" were, and, one by one, returned the seven paper bags to my car, refusing the assistance she offered and keeping a smile glued to my face. I'm not going to let a little second hand store and its fashionable employees get to me, nope. With the bags eyeing me suspiciously from the back seat and the shop, which shall remain unnamed and never ever entered again by me, glaring at me and disappearing from the rear view mirror, I decided to stop by the Salvation Army and see if they could live up to their name. I pulled up to the donation station and a happy, long haired man in jeans and a tee shirt greeted me and accepted every single one of my seven bags, commenting with each one about how nice the contents looked and asking me if I was sure I wanted to get rid of so much stuff. Yes, I said, I'm sure. It'll go to good use. After the transfer, we said our good byes and the happy guy whistled a little bit as he shuffled back into the shop and returned to his previous work and I drove away with an empty back seat and feeling a bit better off than $4.45.

Umm...sorry...I occasionally like to tell random stories and can get a little carried away...just fyi.

In the bag

I didn't get nearly as much done last week as I had hoped, but that doesn't really surprise me. I've grown to trust myself when it comes to stuff like this. Studying and preparing for an exam, writing a twenty page paper for a class, packing up all of my stuff to move...it'll get done when the time is right. I used to really worry about it and force myself to sit down and start before there was any tangible need to, but I now realize that I work better under a little bit of pressure. When I start waking up at 3am with my heart racing, feeling like I'm going to puke and unable to fall back asleep due to worry and anxiety, I know it's time. Time to get serious and get to it. After three nights of the previously described symptoms, I was in the mood to get something done and that something turned out to be clothing. Today I went through all of my clothes and shoes and other decorative accoutrements that go along with apparel and there are now exactly 16 paper bags full of my old garb cluttering up my living room. I never really thought of myself as a clothes horse...maybe a clothes shetland pony, but by completely emptying the contents of my closet onto my bed and folding it all and putting it all systematically into paper bags and winding up with 16 of the things, I am forced to reconsider my pony status. A good deal of the stuff, though, I've had since high school and don't wear anymore and have kept simply because I could. But I can't keep it anymore. So...anybody need anything? Shirts? Shoes? Belts? Bags? I hate to be a salesperson, but I've got it all and I'd be more than happy to sell it to you for a very reasonable price. Seriously, it's got to go and anything I can't sell/give away to friends and neighbors will go to good will.

Because I have a bunch of other stuff I'd like to sell (see items listed to the right), here's what I'm thinking:
Semi-open apartment garage sale thingy on Saturday and Sunday of next week (the 26th and 27th), in the afternoon. If you're interested in attending what's sure to be the most awesome sale EVER, email me (go to my profile and click Email) with a time on Saturday or Sunday that would work for you (if that weekend doesn't work, we can set up a different time, I'm flexible and motivated) and I will send you directions to my apartment. If I have time, I'll bake cookies and for every 10 dollars you spend, you'll get two free cookies! (Incentives. My business classes are finally proving semi-useful.)
So is anybody interested in this thing?

Remember...if you're short on cash and are a nice person, many of the items here may just happen to be free when you stop by. So don't let that keep you away.

All right...that's it. No more lame pitches from me. I'd make a terrible sales person because I'd feel quite annoying the whole time.

Trinkets

This was it. My official first day of preparing for departure. Although I've been preparing for the past year, today was the first real day that my focus, my "job", was to get ready. Get packed. Get informed. Get prepared. And how did I do? I think I did okay. Earlier in the day I had it in mind to just put it all off for another day or two and read, relax, sip a caramel latte, take a long walk through the icy streets, but by 2pm, the lackadaisical vibe was gone and replaced by the itch to get something done. Just from today, I can tell what aspects of preparing I thoroughly enjoy and what aspects I thoroughly do not enjoy.

Enjoyment: learning about the country and everything that goes into it, practicing the little Romanian phrases provided by the PC, and reading about the volunteer experience in Romania.

Non-enjoyment: going through my possessions and placing them in the Keep for Future Use, Take to Romania, and Sell/Donate/Give Away as Gifts (ha! kidding...sorta) piles accordingly.

I'm trying to be very strict with myself, resisting the temptation to put everything in a storage box for two years, because I know how much easier it'll be to come back to a clean slate, free of trinkets that will seem unnecessary by then. The tough part is that the majority of my trinkets have some silly meaning behind them and that's why I've kept them this long. They aren't gifts from people (those will go in the Keep pile), they're just things I've had forever, like the mugs I've had since moving out for the first time, the cookie tray I've baked hundreds of batches of cookies on, the calculator that got me through all of my college math classes. Silly as it sounds, the hard part is thinking about the good life those trinkets have had up until now and now I'm just casting them away to who knows what, crushing their little hearts and upping their chances of a hard-knock life on the streets. Craziness, I know, but that's how my mind works.

Anyways...I feel like I got a start today. I'm hoping to spend 3 hours, at the very least, each day (weekends off, of course) getting this show on the road...just a little over a month to go.

Sorry for all the sappy sentimentality.

Home. For now.

Well. My mom, Ozzie, and I made it home just in time. There's a thick blanket of snow now accumulating outside my apartment window and the walk I (rather stupidly) took earlier ended in frozen pants, a runny nose, and persistent sneezing. Although a cold is guaranteed to take hold very soon, I'm perfectly content to bundle up and hunker down with some hot chockie, a good book, and the falling snow for the next few days. The trip is (sadly) done, my job is over, and I've got an unlimited pile of things to do, but I'll get to it soon enough. Reno in winter and winter in Reno. Too good to resist. And I don't even like to ski.