If it ain’t 1 thing, it’s 20…..

  So my day started off rather uneventful, apart from sibling rivalry.  Fed kids breakfast and lunch, then at about 1:30 left to go get some things from the farmer’s market, which is about a 10 min. drive.  Me and kids leave, go to the market, take another 10-15 min. to get what I need, hop back in the car, drive home.  Get home and walked across the street of apartment building to the little store, grabbed a 2.5L of Pepsi, some tomato sauce.  As I’m leaving the store, my freaky little neighbor (mighta mentioned him another post, if not I’ll extrapolate in another post why he is weird), anyway, freaky neighbor dude says something about my apartment and water.  My five year old  translates as best she could, but she’s not really paying attention.  I shuffle the kids across the  street, while toting a sack of groceries that weighs about 15 pounds, and up  2 flights of stairs.

  There’s water on the stairs, and neighbors in front of my door.  I get that water is leaking from my apartment, but I was not expecting what I found when I opened my door.  There was 3 inches or so of water all in my apartment.  It didn’t quite make it all the way into the one bedroom or the living room, but it started to.  It was all in the bathroom, kitchen and entrance & hall way.  They have shut off the water to the building.  They turn it back on, and we find that it is coming from under my kitchen sink.  I’m standing at my sink, wildly turning the knobs to the pipes to make sure my water in the kitchen is indeed off.  I didn’t leave water running either, so please save those comments!

  So there I am standing at the kitchen sink, and I  just loose it.  I just broke down crying – not hysterically or even uncontrollably, but just crying.  You know, the tears you hold back and bottle up when things go south sometimes?!?  Well the flood gates opened.  My neighbors are standing in my doorway talking to each other, trying to talk to me.  I walk to the door, there’s 2 men standing there talking to me, and I finally say, through the tears “Nu intelegti nimic!!!”  That translates, I don’t understand anything!  Then in English I just simply say “I wanna go home, I just wanna go home!”  I felt like a 5 year old, who just got their butt whooped by the school bully!  I briefly pulled it together, and found my landlord’s number in my cell phone, dialed it, handed the phone to one  of the men talking at me and said “Proprietor, explicat el” – landlord, explain it to him.

  They explain, I understand landlord is on his way.  They give me the phone back, I then call my husband, whose working in Italy – cause these neighbors are asking when my husband will be home, I try to explain he’s working in Italy – they don’t understand me.  Hubby answers the phone, I hear loud noises in the background, he’s at work, in a shipyard.  I have to yell for him to hear and understand me.  At this point I’m not crying anymore, but the moment I have to start yelling, I break again.  He in turn gets worried, tells me to calm down, asks me why I’m crying, and I let loose on him:  “I’m crying because I’m in a place where I don’t understand anyone, and they don’t understand me, and everything is backwards.  Think back to when you first came to the U.S. and no one understood you, and you didn’t understand them, and everything worked differently!”  But it was different for him, he was with a lot of other Romanians.  So he had people to talk to, I have no one, just my kids!

  Anyway, landlord arrives, they find the busted pipe/tube, whatever, we start scooping and dumping the water, take all the rugs outside.  The neighbors are helping.  My kids, especially 3 year old is trying to help, but getting in the way.  I’ve stopped crying, momentarily, and am helping rid the apartment of water.  By this time, the neighbors have figured out from my crying rant at my husband that this was the straw that broke the camel’s back for me!  After several hours, the water is cleaned up, the pipes/tubes are repaired, landlord is not mad at me (thank goodness), and all is right, for now.  Called hubby, and had nice, calm conversation, apologized for the tear-fest, but he understood, and is thankful for such a wonderful wife, who left all behind to follow him to keep their family together!

  Okay, now I know you are thinking, okay, it was just a busted pipe, and yeah, you’re in a different country, but there was no need to cry.  But lately, it’s been one thing after another.  About 2 months ago, my laptop, a big monster of a thing broke, wouldn’t turn on.  Turned out to be a bad motherboard, which fried one of my hard drives.  So I just spent about $4-500 fixing that.  Gas in the car, bills left and right.  A mother in law who likes to stay in everyone’s business and create drama!  No friends to talk to, a husband working in another country because this one has no work for him!  Hot weather, no air conditioning, washing clothes by hand, and 3 kids who fight with each other, don’t listen to me, and keep my house looking like the wreck of the Hesperus.  It could have been worse though, this could have happened over the weekend while I was at the beach in Constanta, 2 hours away!  So I guess in a way, I was lucky.

  Today was just the day that it became too much to deal with anymore!  Ever have one of those days, if you say no, then you are either lying to me, or to yourself; take your pick!  But what’s really bad, is after I’ve cried at my hubby, gotten all the water scooped up, I’m mopping while the neighbor is fixing the pipes, the tears slowly start falling, not out of frustration, but this time out of anger – anger at my own country for putting me in this situation.  Yes, my hubby hand a hand in it too, but we didn’t meet the burden of proof for Political Asylum.  Yes, I’m angry at the U.S. because it sent 4 of it’s own to a foreign country just to make an example out of one person, a person, who if you needed it would give you everything he had, including a kidney or liver!  But the U.S. doesn’t want people like him, they want gang-banging, drug running thugs from Mexico!

  Okay, I’m done, cause now I’m just getting myself really ticked off, and I don’t want that, right now, I just want to eat my dinner that should be done in a little while, eat and read the rest of book three of a series of 7, then go to bed!

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Diety vs. non-Diety

  So I was reading my friend J-Lo’s blog, and no she’s not the one from the block.  She has, like me seens so much false doctrines, and false  teachers, etc.  That has made us both question our beliefs, why do we believe that the bible says this?  So we started digging through the bible, Greek and Hebrew dictionaries.  We both started to discover that most evertyhing that was crammed down our “charismatic” throats as kids was not really what the Bible says.

  I have to wonder why  when we all, and yes, I believe that everyone in this world at some point or other questions the existence of God, or their beliefs in Him; why is it that some of us come to the unshakable belief that God is real, that He exists, that the Bible is His inerrant Word, and that Jesus Christ of the Word made flesh, and then some of us completely deny it.

  Is it maybe that we go into our research determined to prove what we want to believe?  I mean I read Lee Strobel’s “A Case for Christ”.  He was 100% athiest, his wife got ‘saved’, which drove him nuts, and  he basically set out researching to prove to his wife that whe believed a fairy tale, but in the process came to know God.  Why is it that two atheiests can read the same things, and come to two different conclusions?  I believe that in Mr. Strobel’s case it was due to a praying wife, with many believing  friends  standing in agreement with her that he would come to the Lord.

  I have many issues with  the “church”, but not an issue with God. I think sometimes when I say things about the “church”, people take it as I’m bitter, and my love for God was waxed cold, but it’s really the opposite.  I’m not gonna lie, I don’t read my bible the way I should.  I don’t do as Paul said and pray without ceasing.  And I am  guilty of REALLY praying when my back is up against the wall, so to speak.  Something that I need to rectify.  But….here would be the perfect time for my dad to pipe in with “Excuses are like rear-ends, everybody’s got one!”

 

Italy, here I come!

  So I leave my hometown of Tulcea in the morning at 9 am to make a 2 hour drive to Mihail Kogalincheanu Airport, in Constanta.  My flight takes off at 1:10  p.m., and by 5:00 p.m. tomorrow evening, I’ll be hugging my hubby for the fist time 3 months! 

  Marius and I have been together for a total of 7 years.  We “celebrated” our 6 year wedding anniversary May 7th.  Of course since he was there and I was here, it was a phone call that went something like this: “Happy Anniversary, I love &  miss you.  Okay outta credit,  talk later!”  In the 7 years we’ve been together we have NEVER had 1 whole week to ourselves.  My oldest child, is not his biologically, she was God’s way of getting me back into the “fold”.  You can say what you want about my past life, yeah I made mistakes, and she is a product of my sin and mistakes, but if you dare to call her an Abomination in the eyes of God (yes, someone once told me that to my face, happened to be a v. old, v. close friend of the family), I WILL come through the internet connection and beat you over the head with your own bible!  Yeah, I know, not Christ like behavior, but hey, what can I say, I get a bit hurt and offended when someone calls an innocent child “trash”!  Anyway, back to my point.  We have never had more than 1-2 days completely alone with each other.  So we are totally going to enjoy this week, belatedly celebrating 6 years together.

  In our 6 years of marriage we’ve dealt with more hard times that would normally destroy most marriages, than most couples experience in a lifetime!  But because we keep God in the center, and always talk to each other openly, and honestly, our trials have only made our love stronger!  We don’t go to bed angry with each other.  We talk about everything before making any decisions, and he always makes the decision!

  Anyway, so when I get back, hoping my internet connection will have laid off the crack pipe so that I’ll be able to post some wonderful pics from my short visit to the Tuscan area of Italy.  La Spezia, Genoa, and Pisa are where we will be visiting! 

  I can’t wait to see a country I have ALWAYS wanted to visit with my wonderful husband!  Pray for me to have a safe flight there and back, and I’ll see you on the flip side!

Communication Breakdown.

…No, this isn’t the opening riff from classic Zeppelin song, although, those guys did Rock!  No, this is more along the lines of what happens when your computer falls spectacularly to pieces, and leaves you digitally stranded back in reality, with no outlet to vent!!!  Sorry I have no friends here to whom I can vent, I do, but they don’t understand a word I’m saying, and I’d rather not let them see the  scary side of me, before they can completely comprehend what it is I’m ranting about!!!!

  Evidentally some chip on my laptops compressor (for the cooling system) is busted, along with a few other electrical items, but that chip is supposedly darn near impossible to locate!  Grrr……   Fortunately, we had my parents pick us up another laptop and bring to us when they came to visit last summer.  It’s been in Bucuresti with  my brother in law since September or October I think, well, he was going to have to send it back to me anyway, so I could bring it to Marius in Italy, next week, did I mention I’M GOING TO ITALY IN 7 DAYS?!?!  N-E-Way, back to my story, so BIL sent me  2nd laptop by bus this  evening, and it’s sad how much I’ve missed my digital friends!

  On the upside my New Canon Rebel XS with 2 lennses came in last week, and God answered my prayer, I didn’t have to pay any VAT on it.  VAT=Value Added Tax, or Customs Fees.  I seriously got the coolest customs agent ever.  Makes me regret having called all the Postal Worker “Friggin’ Communists” as I left the Post Office…. I blogged about that in a post entitled “God has taught me to hold  my tongue”, labeled under ‘romania’.

   Anyway, so I’ve been snapping photos like CRAZY I tell ya, learning all the bells and whistles, what an f/stop and apeture and metering  are…..I’m still a little fuzzy, but I can take some decent photos.  I’ll upload some, when my internet connection decides to lay off the crack pipe!  Seriously, been out of the loop for two weeks, and my internet connection is obviously on vacation, IN AMSTERDAM!!!!  Sheesh!  Can’t a girl catch a break?  Lately, I swear, everything that can go wrong, Has gone wrong, horribly wrong!

Not in Kansas anymore Toto…

  So last night I had this very strange dream, I kept buy tons of shoes, most of them red.  It was strange, because I was in my 20’s in my dream, working in some store, and my trailer park looking mom (not my real mom in the dream, not sure who she was) comes in with “my little brother” , who is some fat nerd boy who looks like he’s 10, but is going off to college, so trailer trash lady is buying him like a Touch Pad, etc.  I tell “mom” if you buy that Jason’s gonna die.  Jason was my boss –  dressed like Larry the Cable guy, but much cuter. She asked why he would die, and I said because if sells you that, I’ll kill him, because my brother is a pushover, some jerk is going to either beat the crap out of him and take it, or trick him into giving it to him.

  Anyway in my dream my hair is long, and sorta blond, I’m pretty solid.  In reality I’m NOT a fat person, I’ve popped out 3 kids, and can still wear size 2 pants!  In the dream I’m wearing Daisy Dukes.  I DO NOT like showing my body, especially my pasty white legs.  So anyway, my friend (who is face & nameless; I have no friends here) comes in with all these bags of shoes that I had bought and left with her.  I become overjoyed suddenly, where I as before I was lethargic, and depressed.  The thing is though there were like 10 pair of shoes, mainly heels, and probably 7 pair of them were red!!!
  I like the color red, but I don’t normally wear it because I’m fair skinned with freckles, auburn hair (that is rapidly turning gray)  and blue eyes. 

When I woke up, and sat down to drink my coffee, I started thinking about the dream.  I was so depressed to the point of tears in the dream, till I had all these red shoes.  There was one pair that was my favorite, not to flashy, more like a ballet slipper in patent red leather.  No bling or anything, but I LOVED them.

So I thought about what it could mean and I immediately thought about “The Wizard of Oz”, and Dorothy’s red slippers that when she clicked the heels together she was instantly transported home.  So I’m wondering if subconsciously I’m wanting to go home.  I think so, I mean I’m in a foreign country where nothing makes sense to me.  My husband had to go work in Italy, cause there’s no work here in Romania, I have no friends, can’t talk to anyone, and my oldest had an appendicitis scare the other day, where “Dr. Armenia” threw me for a loop.  You can read about that episode by going to post entitles “Hospital Politics”, it’s much funnier than this one.

  So I guess that’s what the Red Shoes symbolized, my wanting to be Dorothy, and magically transport to back to my ‘Kansas’!  Of course the red shoes could symbolize how much I miss my husband!  ;p

To Write or not??

  So a lot of people have told me I should write a book based on mine and my husband’s life experiences.  Honestly, the thought has crossed my mind before, the only problem is I don’t exactly know where to start, how the story should flow, how much should be fact, and how much should be fiction.  Should I even attempt to write about my hubby’s immigration nightmare in the U.S.?  I mean in the wild, dream scenario that the book did get published and garnered international attention, there could be drastic repercussions that we really would not want to deal with. 

  I’ve thought about just focusing on living in another country, but then you kinda have to have a reason for WHY you are living abroad, and honestly, the facts are a lot more intriguing than anything I could make up.  I’ve thought about maybe asking my cousin who has written 2 novels, one being a complete series, and the other just one, back to back, and is now waiting to hear back from agents, so she can get herself published.  But she’s got her plate full already, what with editing a local parenting magazine in Mobile, plus her writing novels, wife of busy attorney, and mom of 2 elementary aged girls!  Jeez, like she really needs more, especially from the other side of the world!  Seriously, though, you should check out her blog, she’s very funny and witty. Here blog, “That’s Write” can be found Here.

  Maybe I should just blog the book???

Parents just don’t understand, errr…speak the same language…..

  So, the major disadvantage to living in a place where you don’t speak the language is my kids.  My kids, the oldest two at least are fluent in Romanian, and I’m not.  This has become a major obstacle for me, and an easy escape for my oldest, who quickly figured out that in this case mom really doesn’t understand.  In fact, I’m quite clueless.

  She can tell me that my mother in law said one thing, when she really didn’t say anything of the kind.  Her teacher said she needs money for this, when really she doesn’t need any.  I get it, kids are sneaky, but factor in a language barrier on my part, and it’s a whole new ballgame.  I don’t know anyone who can relate to me, as everyone I know is either back home in the U.S. or they are here and speak both English and Romanian, not to mention probably one to three more languages on top of these two!

  I’m slowly getting the hang of the language.  I mean I’m getting to where I can understand it more when I hear it spoken.  Speaking it back is  a horse of a different color.  The thing is though, I still am not good enough that my kids know that they can pull the wool over my eyes in a lot of cases.

  My oldest daughter is a sweet heart, but she’s 7, and since we’ve been here she’s been give a lot of independence, and maybe that is what missing link to her behavior lately.  I won’t go into details, but it isn’t good!  Back home I would never have let her walk to the top of our neighborhood to go to the store there to buy some milk or loaf of bread.  Cause it just wasn’t safe, she could get kidnapped, hit by a car, attacked by a dog, etc. Here though, nobody messes with the kids, dogs are everywhere, and the only people they seem to attack are they gypsies, which although politically incorrect, is quite amusing!  Anyway, I can give her a few bucks and send her down the stairs, across a fairly busy street and into the store to buy me some bread or milk, or whatever I might need to finish what I’m cooking.  At her grandmother’s she can walk up the hill and across another street and go to the park.  She walks herself to and from school every day.  It takes about 5 minutes to walk there, if that gives you any ideas as to distance. 

  So is it the language barrier coupled with gotten too soon independence that is wrecking havoc in my domestic felicity, or just growing pains – part of growing up?  I think it’s the former.  In the States she was sheltered, didn’t go anywhere on her own, never out of my eye sight,  We didn’t live in a good school district, and the school she would have had to attend was a bad school, so we homeschooled.  Here she can come and go pretty much as she pleases [within reason], she goes to public school, seems to make friends easily, and makes good grades.    

  So why is this parent just not understanding???

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