The Wonderful World of Disney (and Universal, Too!)

If we've learned anything since joining the Foreign Service, it's that the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

Case in point:  Our original plan had been to enjoy a nice, relaxing home leave on the West Coast following our two year assignment in Mexico.  We planned it out and it looked like we could spend a month in California, Washington, Vegas, etc. before heading to Virginia for TJ's Arabic training.  The State Department didn't agree, and all of the training came first.  That was fine, no biggie.  The only hiccup was that, were home leave to begin prior to training, we could control where the flight out of Mexico took us (i.e. West Coast), whereas having home leave after training meant we were already situated in Virginia (i.e. East Coast).  We weren't too keen on driving all the way out west, so a new plan was formulated.

...And, there we were.  At last.  A long ten months and eight days after leaving Mexico, we finally arrived in Orlando.  Home.  

What follows is basically an episode of any sitcom that ran during ABC's TGIF Friday night programming following the Disney/ABC merger in the mid-90s.  You know the drill:  The Tanner family (or the Foster-Lambert family, or the Winslow family, etc.) goes to Disney World and spends 22 minutes (plus commercials!) getting themselves stuck in a series of hilarious yet troublesome situations that will be resolved the following week (these were typically two-parters) while they float seamlessly between parks as if they are all the same place.  

This probably won't be as entertaining as all that, but we did float seamlessly between parks for the duration of our nineteen day trip.  

We arrived on August 30th and, after a quick unpack and rest at the hotel, headed to Downtown Disney where we met up with our old roommate Kris.  We walked the full length of this outdoor shopping, dining, and entertainment complex during our chat.  We window shopped.  We stopped for a drink.  I took a picture with this awesome Lego Hulk.  It was nice catching up with Kris, but on the whole the experience was a tad depressing.  Pleasure Island, the section of Downtown Disney that had been devoted to nightclubs and booty shaking, had closed on September 27, 2008.  The Virgin Megastore, where TJ and I met for the first time, closed in spring 2009.  The McDonald's where we shared our first meal later that day because-it's-not-a-date-so-why-be-fancy closed on April 30, 2010, shortly after our original departure to join the Foreign Service.  Now, construction barriers are set up all over the complex, paving the way for something called "Disney Springs" that is scheduled to open in 2016.  I'll try to reserve judgement, but right now I'm just bitter that so many of the locations surrounding the beginnings of our relationship have faded away. 

The following day was spent at EPCOT, TJ's favorite of the four theme parks that fall under the Walt Disney World umbrella.  After all but conquering Future World, we set our sites on the World Showcase.  First stop was "Mexico," where we enjoyed Margaritas and nachos, listened to a mariachi band, and replaced Panchito Pistoles and José Carioca as members of The Three Caballeros.  Disney photography policy prevents the taking of pictures with their characters while in the presence of alcohol but make no mistake ladies and gentlemen, those margaritas are sitting just to the side of the far right bottom corner.  We spent the remainder of the day leisurely strolling the World Showcase and sampling foods and beverages as we took in the attractions.    

That was followed by a day at Animal Kingdom, which I have always

suspected of being situated directly above hell, due to its ever-uncomfortable, always higher than average temperatures.  Our friend Tommy joined us for a day spent traveling through time to the day of the Dinosaur, learning that it's Tough to be a Bug, embarking on a East African safari and learning all about the "Bear Necessities."  If you don't get all of those references, it's because either you don't know enough about Disney, or I know too much.  And since this is my blog, we'll throw the blame in your direction.  We would see Tommy one more time during this trip, and that would be following Tuesday evening for night of dancing and PBR at downtown Orlando's hipster club, I-Bar.  The crowds were young when we left Orlando, and even more so now.  We, unfortunateley, had aged another three years.   It took a while to get into the groove, but once we did it was fun.  If nothing else, we ended our evening better off than the guy who was sitting outside in a puddle of his own...something...when we left.  Though, looking back, maybe he did have more fun than us.  

That evening saw us arriving at Disney's HollywoodStudios for a night of turkey legs and scary fireworks (Really, Disney?  What were you thinking with this whole Fantasmic thing?) with my old friend and colleague Shalinn.  TJ was excited to ride the newly renovated Star Wars attraction (Star Tours - The Adventure Continues) for the first time, which I had managed to do during my 2011 trip to San Diego.  We had planned to meet up with Shalinn, a champion eater who manages to stay super skinny just to spite me, for an evening at a local food truck fair later in our trip, but we were sadly rained out.  Next time, pookie!

The next day was spent at my favorite park The Magic Kingdom.  We immediately headed over to The New Fantasyland to explore a park renovation we had been dying to check out for months now.  Among the pleasant new features was Gaston's Tavern, where I was able to partake in something called Lefou's Brew, a frozen apple juice concoction with a hint of marshmallow, topped with a passion fruit-mango foam.  It was delicious.  This was not to be our final day at The Magic Kingdom...nor was it to be our final Lefou's Brew.

My parents drove down from Texas for a brief visit September 3-5.  In what has become something of a tradition since they started visiting us in Orlando all those years ago, we made sure that they got to experience one of the local dinner shows.  This time around it was Disney's Spirit of Aloha at the Polynesian Resort.  The family-style buffet features hula dancing and a fire-knife performance.  On the second night we went to Kobe Japanese Steakhouse for a teppanyaki-style dining experience TJ and I introduced them to on their last visit, and that they seem bent on turning into a second dining tradition.  Sounds good to me!  Not much in the way of activity to report beyond that.  They weren't keen on visiting the parks ("There's more to life than Disney," I believe mom said....I know, right?  She's totally crazy.), so we did the family thing where you sit and talk and reminisce and sometimes go shopping at Target.  Important things to do, as I'm not quite sure if/when we will be returning to the states, other than the end of our tour in Jerusalem. 

While we were at the luau, our car got to hang out with Herbie!

That Saturday I got to meet TJ's sister, brother-in-law, nieces and nephew for the first time.  They had recently moved to Tampa and, thanks to Kris's awesomeness (and employment benefits), we were able to treat them to a day at Universal Studios and Islands of Adventure.  The kids all had a great time, with TJ's nephew happily proclaiming "This is the best vacation ever!"  Indeed, kid.  Please note in the attached photo, the sleeping baby in the fore with all of the "must-be-this-tall-to-ride" graduates happily queued up and ready to go in the background.  We all had a fun-filled day meeting Spider-Man, exploring Hogwarts and going on an adventure with the Autobots.  It was my first time truly doing the theme park experience with kids in tow, and I must say I enjoyed it.  Hopefully I'll be able to do it with a tot or two of my own one day.  

The rest of the trip was filled with more of the same.  Further exploring the parks on our own and hanging out with friends when we had the chance.

We met up with Nisrine, another old friend and colleague, for a quick chat at a local wine bar.  It was brief, but so good to see her.

We befriended a British tourist named Anwarul and went miniature golfing.  

We spent a day with Chloe.

We spent time away from Disney with Kris and his new boo, John.  Brunches, dinners, Insidious Double Features and martinis, oh my!  Oh, and I did make them return to Universal one more time.  Rain and time hadn't permitted proper exploration of the new Springfield environment.  Mission:  Accomplished.  Little known fact:  This is one of maybe four photos of Kris in existence.  I own all of them.  He's the pouty one on the right that doesn't appear to want to have the camera pointed at him.    

We had appetizers and drinks with our friend Gavin, during which time a frumpy hag of a waitress named Agatha denied me drink service after declaring that I had a mole on my neck in my driver's license photo that was not currently present on my person.  It was one of those miracle moles that you could scratch off with your fingernail, but she was having none of it.  She made me question basically everything about my life.  Diet, exercise, skin care routine.   Even with a "mole," do I look that drastically different than the person in my 2003 driver's license photo?  Who knows. But now that we are settled in and my new place of employment has a gym, I'll be hitting it hard going forward.  So that's turned a negative into a positive.  

We also took some time to visit the gorgeous little craftsman home that we purchased when the Foreign Service was but a future possibility.  The tenants are taking care of the place and have turned it into an adorable little bachelorette pad.  Should we hold on to it, it shall be a wonderful place to retire. 

Amazing that home leave ended just two and a half weeks ago.  It already feels like a lifetime.  And the two and a half weeks of home leave itself?  Felt like a day and a half.  Time flies when you're having fun, and you rarely get to do everything, or see everyone, that you'd like to.     

I don't really know how to wrap this up, because doing so is just further confirmation that our all-too short time at home is already over.  But I know we'll be back someday.  And so...

M-I-C...See ya real soon!

Etc.

Dog Days of Summer

Sometimes...not often, but sometimes, I really, really hate the Foreign Service.  Those of you on the outside looking in may see us as a bunch of highly paid pencil pushers that get to live in fancy mansions in faraway lands...in between exotic vacations to Italy and Fiji, of course.

Well, you'd be wrong.  We are actually a bunch of modestly paid pencil pushers that get to live in average-for-Middle-Class-Americans housing that just happens to be in faraway lands...in between giving up any and everything that we hold dear.  

We say goodbye to our family and friends.  To favorite restaurants and nightspots.  To old careers that we may or may not have loved.  To houses that we bought barely two years prior and thought we would grow old together in but instead will probably not set foot in for another 20-30 years...if we don't just get bored and sell them off first, of course.

And then, just when you've been at post for a couple of years...just when you've established new friends, new work connections, new local hangouts....you uproot your family and start from scratch all over again.

And sometimes...sometimes this job causes you to lose your best friend.  Your compadre.  Your pretty little girl.  That precious, dopey, flopsy mopsy golden retriever that you bought for you husband in 2007 as a present for his college graduation....but that everyone secretly knew you really bought for yourself. 

We knew almost from the beginning of our relationship that TJ had wanted to pursue a career in the US Foreign Service.  It was his dream job, but given the highly competitive nature of the State Department, we put that dream up on the "Wouldn't that be swell?" shelf in the closet.  By the time February 2010 rolled around and we realized we'd need to pull the dream down and dust it off, we had accumulated two dogs, a cat, and a 30-year mortgage.  

The house?  No biggie. Slap some paint on the walls, replace the carpet, find a property manager and rent that sucker out.  

The pets?  Also no biggie.  Throw them in the car and road trip it on up the highway until you reach Virginia.  

Then came the first pet exporting disaster.  After weeks of bureaucratic delays (both Mexican and American) resulted in several thousand dollars beyond our projected shipping expenses being tossed to the wind, the animals all arrived safely, if not a little rattled, in Guadalajara. 

Two years later, we tactfully circumvented this issue on our return trip by hiring a driver to escort them to the Texas border, from which we were able to safely and leisurely drive back to Virginia and prepare to start the whole process again. 

Almost immediately upon returning to the US, we began to crunch the numbers and realized that, bare minimum, it would cost approximately $3,500 to purchase air fare and get all the critters "up to code" per Israeli import regulations.  That's a hefty chunk of change, though certainly doable.  But...what happens when TJ receives his next posting, and it doesn't require a lengthy stay in DC?  We'd have to fly the pets back to the US for one month of mandatory home leave, and then fly them to our onward assignment.  $3,500 to get them all to Israel suddenly turned into a hypothetical $10,500 round trip experience.  Doable.  But logical?  Feasible?  Maybe not.  

Then we took a long, hard look at each of our pets.  They are all getting older.

Sophie is an 11 year old gray cat with an average life expectancy of 13-15 years.
Zelda is a nine and a half year old beagle/jack russell mix with an average life expectancy of 12-15 or 13-16 years, depending on which breed she favors.
Chloe is a six year old golden retriever with an average life expectancy of 10-12 years.

Other than a bad case of kennel cough-turned-pneumonia in Zelda's infancy, all three pets have lived perfectly healthy lives.  Assuming that continues, Sophie and Zelda are on trajectory to clock out of this mortal realm in the next few years, with Chloe following a short while later.

But stress can effect an animal's health, and all three of them arrived in Mexico looking much worse for wear.  We were hesitant to put any of them through that again.

Then we were assigned to our housing unit in Jerusalem.  It looked...shall we say...much more cozy than our accommodations in Mexico.  It also lacked a yard.   Zelda is a cuddler, but Chloe is a wild beast that loves to run.  We were concerned about a lack of space to keep her entertained.

We had already been considering the possibility of needing to find alternative homes for our furry friends as far back as February 2011.  I just didn't think it would actually happen so soon.

It was important to us that, should any of our pets leave our home, we would continue having access to them.  We began putting feelers out there to see if anyone would want to foster any of them.  Our logic was, if we could find someone we know to take them, we would do that.  If not, we would weather all health and financial risks and bring them along.

Poor Sophie.  Nobody wanted her.  She has apparently developed quite the reputation among our friends over the past decade as an evil demon from Hades.  She's actually quite sweet.  She just likes to hiss at people she doesn't know, and glare at those she does.  Plus, she isn't declawed, so that's a deal breaker for a lot of folks.  One person did offer to take her, but it would have been as an outdoor cat and we know she doesn't have the chutzpah for that.  Due to lack of viable interest by anyone but ourselves, Sophie was coming along.

Zelda would have been welcomed by our old roommate, Kris, and with open arms.  He loves her and we've always suspected that she likes him more than us, anyway.  Timing being what it is, though, he's found himself in a relationship

with someone who has pet allergies.  I suggested they break up, but apparently they're happy.  Oh well.  Another friend committed to taking her, only to back out saying his landlord didn't approve.  I've since seen pictures indicating that he's adopted two puppies, so he's currently on my poop list.  Had he said no at the onset, that would have been fine.  Sadly, he let us down so close to departure time that we had to decide whether it was worth the risk to wait for another bite or to start the lengthy and expensive process of getting vaccinations and genetic testing just in case we had to take her...at which point why not just bring her along?  And so, Zelda joined Sophie as a two-time world traveler.

Then there was Chloe.  She's so beautiful and sweet, who would NOT want her?  The day our friend had falsely committed to taking Zelda, I sent out a Facebook blast asking about Chloe.  Offers immediately poured in.  I decided on Pam, a sweet woman I have known for about eight years from a previous job.  She lives with her granddaughter who is just about to start college.  They have several dogs and a cat already and had previously shared space with a golden retriever, so they knew all about the breed's behavioral patterns (or lack thereof).  Pam graciously offered to foster Chloe while we are overseas and says she will return her upon the completion of this tour.  Pretty sweet deal, huh?  Of course, it was right around this time that our other friend reneged on his offer to take Zelda and I felt like a monster.  You're not supposed to have favorites, but I do.  And Chloe is mine.  I felt like I was abandoning her.

I used what little time I had left with her to the best of my ability.  I know that it is a human flaw to impose human characteristics upon animals, but I wanted Chloe to know that I love her.  Realistically, I'm sure I just needed to make myself recognize that I loved her.  Either way, I took her for extra long walks, bought her more toys than usual, forced everyone to sit for a family portrait and generally just made a point of being more attentive.

The result of which was that I had somehow managed to cry myself out by the time we made a whirlwind weekend trip down to Orlando and handed Chloe over to Pam and her granddaughter, Bailey, on August 3rd.  We knew our car was going to be stuffed when we made our final departure from Virginia at the end of that month, and we wanted to give them all time to adjust to each other before we headed off to the other side of the world and found ourselves unable to make adjustments if needed, so handing her off early seemed like a smart idea.  Pam did a great job of reassuring us that Chloe was in good hands.  They have a huge yard, a doggy door (always wanted one of those!) and toys galore.  I knew our baby would be in good hands.   As we got in the car to leave, Chloe watched curiously from the screen door.  She didn't look sad, nor happy.  It was just sort of a "Those are my daddies.  They are there and I am here," curious kind of look.  Weeks of emotion had left me dry.  I calmly turned to see TJ, who had been bottling it up for weeks so as not to exacerbate my feelings, finally, briefly, lose it.  The drive back to DC was sad, yet oddly happy.  We knew that Chloe would be well cared for.  And that's the important thing, right?

We had the opportunity to spend some time with her during home leave.  I picked her up from Pam's house on the morning of September 10th and she was so excited to see me that she almost knocked me down running out the front door (Chloe, not Pam).  I had claw marks all over me for days from her trying to crawl into my arms!  We didn't do too much that day.  Just lounged around in a big dog pile watching trashy television (Maury) at the hotel, for the most part.  We did want to spend some alone time with her so, leaving Sophie and Zelda in the room, we loaded Chloe in the car and

headed to Celebration, FL.  TJ lived there when we first started dating and we had been been wanting to stop by to reminisce.  We walked to one of our favorite eateries, The Market Street Cafe, and took a seat outside.  We ordered our favorite dishes and a bowl of water was brought for Chloe.  We had never taken her out to eat like this before, and she behaved like an angel.  We were so proud of her!  After lunch we walked around the lake and the downtown area before heading back to the hotel for some more trash television.

Pam wasn't home when we dropped Chloe off, but Bailey was.  Chloe ran to her just as eagerly as she had run to me that morning.

I know she's in good, loving, capable hands.  I just hope those hands are still willing to release her when two years have passed. 

Zee What I Mean?

The simple fact that you are reading this (You are reading this, right?  Validate my life, people!) means that I have successfully overcome the trauma that occurs when one finds oneself without home Internet for a month’s time.  Okay, so I haven’t blogged much since leaving Mexico, regardless of my Internet status.  Truth be told, DC kinda bores me.  Good news, folks!  I’m in Jerusalem now, and that’s FAR from boring!  Bad news, folks!  You gotta suffer through some non-Jerusalem blogs first.  I slacked, and now we must all be punished.  Don’t worry, we’ll get there.  I’ve got two years to paint this picture for you.

Ahem.

On the afternoon of August 29th, I completed the six week class PC530: Basic Consular Course, otherwise known as ConGen.  It is a long, exhausting, highly beneficial class that teaches you the policies and best practices of the department through our dealings with The Republic of Z, an imaginary land constructed specifically for this class (because in real life, laws and regulations change all the time and they wanted course content to be consistent and accurate).  The course, mandatory for consular officers but optional (and, like language training, unpaid) for Eligible Family Members, prepares our diplomats for conducting visa interviews and providing a wide range of services to our American citizens living and/or traveling overseas.  For EFMs like myself, the course provides the necessary skills to apply for positions at post similar to, but more better-er, than the one I occupied in Guadalajara. Apparently it worked...pending the processing of some paperwork, I should be starting up next week!

On that sunny, happy Thursday afternoon in late August I walked the halls of the Foreign Service Institute with my diploma in one hand and my peer-voted Zoscars awards in the other ("Best Actor in a Role Play," for my dazzling portrayal of a Zian gangster, and "Most Likely to Run for President of Z," which I would like to think means I am knowledgeable due to my prior job assignment overseas but probably means I talk too much...), saying my goodbyes and see-you-laters, and looking toward the future.  In less than three weeks' time, we would be arriving in Israel.  

But before that?  VACATION.  ORLANDO.  HOME.  WHEEE!

The department mandates one month of home leave between overseas assignments (or every two years spent overseas, whichever is shorter) regardless of your length of domestic training in the interim.  There are many reasons for this, I am sure, but the big one seems to be that the powers that be want us to remember where we come from.  We may live most of our lives abroad, but we are Americans serving American interests and need to maintain an American perspective.

Sounds cool in theory.  Home leave either begins after your departure from your previous overseas assignment, or immediately following any domestic training leading into your next overseas assignment.  Timing depends on your training schedule, and you can spend your leave anywhere you wish, so long as it is in the United States.  For TJ, home leave fell at the end of training.  This means that we were, for all practical purposes, evicted from our government sponsored Oakwood housing the day his training ended.  Okay.  We had planned on spending that time in Orlando anyway.  No problem!

Wait.  Problem?  Oh.  You see, the only constant is change, and TJ's training ended earlier than we had anticipated when I signed up for my six week ConGen course.  We got the boot when I had exactly two weeks of class left.  Oops.

Ever ready to take advantage of an unfortunate situation, we used the opportunity to find a hotel in Alexandria, which we had never really explored despite its proximity to Falls Church (approx. 9 mi SE).  We stayed in the historic downtown district and, thanks to the architecture, shops, restaurants, parks and waterfront, found ourselves falling in love with the area for the first time in the combined 20 months that we had spent in Northern Virginia since early 2010.  In fact, we are viewing Alexandria as a potential contender for residence should work or training prompt a return to the states in the future.

We explored at night.  During the day TJ did laundry and watched TV and met friends for coffee.  I studied and envied him his break.  He would tell you, and has told me, that he did more productive things than that, and I'm sure he did.  But this is my blog and it's more fun to poke at him.  Besides, I'm sure it's a lovely contrast to now, when TJ is working and I am doing laundry and watching TV and making plans with an EFM neighbor while I wait for the okay to start my job.

That's neither here nor there.  The important thing is that ConGen was over.  Next stop:  ORLANDO!

The Perfect Anniversary Weekend

In the spring of 2006, during the days when neither of us had yet to achieve the covetous Monday-Friday, 9-5 career track that is all the rage, I found myself bored at home sitting in front of my desktop computer around 10:00AM some weekday morning while TJ was at work or in class, pondering Madonna's then upcoming Confessions tour and whether or not I could justify plopping down the cash for a couple of tickets to the Miami show.  When I clicked the link, I was advised that there were no tickets available.  Hmmph!  Casual ponderance turned to insatiable desire in the blink of an eye.  Now that I couldn't have the tickets that just moments before I wasn't even certain I wanted, I absolutely needed them.  Figuring that if Miami was sold out, surely the NYC tickets would be gone as well, I halfheartedly changed cities and clicked "Find Tickets."  Oh.  Oh, my.  They were available.  I hastily placed my order before better sense could prevail.  After I received my confirmation of purchase, I glanced at the clock.  It was now 10:02.  My mind flashed back to some forgotten knowledge that tickets would be going on sale at 10:00.  Knowing the answer, I checked Miami again anyway.  Yup.  Tickets were available.  Oops.  I called TJ shortly thereafter and we had a conversation that started vaguely like "Um, baby, you've always wanted to go to New York, riiiiggghhht?"  That July, we hopped on a plane to NYC and had a wonderful weekend filled with concerts (Confessions), on- and off-Broadway shows (Altar Boyz, Avenue Q, Mamma Mia!, Rent, The Wedding Singer), and your standard sightseeing walkabouts (5th Avenue, 30 Rockefeller Plaza, Central Park, FAO Schwarz, NBC Studio Tour, Times Square, etc).

Over the years we have consistently found ourselves returning to favorite vacation spots (Key West,

New Orleans, Paris, Puerto Vallarta) in lieu of exploring new ground.  Yet a return to New York, somehow, eluded us for years, even when our 2010 stay in northern Virginia put us within reasonable driving distance to the Big Apple.  Not this time.  With our 10th anniversary approaching, I knew the time was right for a return.

As our anniversary fell on a Wednesday and officers are not allowed to take time off of language training, we decided to spend our actual anniversary in a way we have often done so, by gorging ourselves at The Melting Pot.  It's not that fondue is necessarily expensive and therefore reserved for special occasions, but rather that it is very time consuming and therefore reserved for special occasions. (Alternatively, we also enjoy Texas de Brazil, which is not very time consuming because we are able to gorge ourselves in a 15 minute period...and therefore dangerous and also reserved for special occasions.)

Thanks to a Foreign Service colleague that was headed to NYC that weekend as well, we managed to score a free ride into the city, arriving around 4PM on Friday, July 12th.

After a quick shower and rest at the hotel, we were out in the city, doing a quick walk around Times Square (in the rain!  Gah!)  before having a quick dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe (I love it, but haters gonna hate.) and finally landing at the Nederlander Theatre to watch Newsies.  Of the three shows we had lined up for the weekend, this was the one TJ was least interested in but I just absolutely had to see.    The Nederlander Theater had been home to Rent, my all-time favorite show, during its twelve-year stint on Broadway.  I had managed to see Rent in this performance space twice during that period, both during our last trip here in 2006 as well as a 2002 Thanksgiving getaway with a college friend.  I was curious about any changes that had been made to the interiors, as well as whether or not the new tenants had maintained the same level of quality.  The interior was the same, right down to the positioning of the freestanding merchandise booths.  Even the stage design seemed similar, with giant metal frames used to set the mood of a disenfranchised New York neighborhood.  The cast itself did not disappoint either, and I ultimately walked out to the sounds of TJ admitting that this had been a good idea.

The following morning we paid our respects at The National September 11 Memorial.  Although the museum is not yet open, visitors are able to access the memorial proper, which features a pair of manmade waterfalls and reflecting pools placed within the footprints of the old World Trade Center.  Surrounding the pools are bronze plates featuring engravings of the names of every person that lost their lives in the 2001 and 1993 attacks on the WTC.  Stretching skyward in the adjacent lot is the still under construction One World Trade Center, the primary building of the new WTC complex.  I was amazed at how quiet the area surrounding the monument was.  Besides the occasional quiet mutterings of guests trying to maintain a respectful volume, the only sound to be heard was that of the waterfalls, crashing forever downward.  As we exited the monument area, we stopped to peruse the racks of brochures near the exit.  To our horror, yet sadly not to our surprise, we noticed that there were no Arabic pamphlets among the foreign language offerings.  Whether an intentional slight given America's horrific treatment of the Muslim community in the wake of 9/11 or an unfortunate oversight isn't for me to say.  It was merely an interesting observation.

The Brooklyn Bridge is conveniently located just a few blocks from the subway station that was to take us back to our hotel, so after noshing on a delicious slice of NY pizza, we crossed an odd little item off of my personal bucket list and walked across the bridge, which connects Manhattan and Brooklyn, separated by the East River.

There's not much to say about the experience, really.  It was hot.  It was a fairly long walk.  We saw two cyclists crash into each other at high speeds and then get into a shouting match that almost ended in physical violence.  Oh, and if for some reason you don't know how to walk across a bridge, here is an extensive article you may wish to read.  I didn't know of this article's existence prior to my travels, but I managed just fine.  

Something else that I didn't know about but which would have been adorable given the fact that this was an anniversary trip, was the trend of leaving love locks on the bridge.  I snapped this picture to remind myself to look up what the heck it was I was taking a picture of, and it turns out that people will write their name and the name of their loved one on a padlock, clip it to the bridge, and then throw the key into the river so that their hearts cannot be unlocked from their loved one.  It's a sweet sentiment, and apparently an idea that New Yorkers stole from the French, who had themselves stolen from an Italian novel, "Ho Viglia di Te."

In order to rehydrate from the whole sweaty bridge walk, we stopped in at an Irish pub in Times Square for a beer and some yummy potato skins before heading back to Broadway to catch Kinky Boots at The Al Hirschfeld Theatre.  We hadn't made the connection at the time, but this was the same venue that housed The Wedding Singer in 2006.  We had been enjoying our Broadway experience so much that hot July day that we opted to see this horrid adaptation of an Adam Sandler movie instead of witnessing the  NYC 4th of July fireworks celebration, a tragedy that has haunted us these past seven years.  No such fears this time around.  Kinky Boots was amazing.  We laughted.  We cried.  We saw Tony winner Billy Porter and understood what the fuss was all about.

After the show we skedaddled back to the hotel for a quick siesta before heading back out on the town. We had a quick dinner at Au Bon Pain, did a lighting fast walk by Rockefeller Center and Radio City Music Hall, and wound up at Eugene O'Neill Theatre, where we saw the best show of the trip, The Book of Mormon.  It was actually playing in DC during this time period, but hey, when in Rome...

After the show we headed to Therapy, a bar we had visited back in 2006 that was also celebrating it's 10th anniversary that weekend.  Awww.  It was fate.  While there we met up with Carlos, a friend of ours from Guadalajara that lives and works in NYC.  We apparently had a lot of fun that evening, as photos taken in Times Square at what must have been 3 or 4AM, judging by the empty streets, ended up on my iPad the following morning.

The next morning we set out for Central Park, but not before we stumbled upon FAO Schwarz and I remembered a promise unfulfilled.  For TJ's birthday in 2009, I had taken him to the newly opened "Jim Henson's Fantastic World," a touring museum exhibit which showcased original Muppets, sketches, and other tidbits that celebrated Henson's creative genius.  Afterwards I told him about a recent edition to FAO, The Muppet Whatnot Workshop, in which visitors could create their own personal Muppet.  There was an on-line ordering option that I had considered for his birthday gift, for TJ is a lifelong Muppet fan.  I told him that I had opted not to place an order, as I wasn't sure if he'd appreciate such a weird gift, but I had been wrong.  He said it would have been a perfect gift but did confess that he would prefer creating his own in person, and I promised him that one day we would return to NYC and he would have his chance.  When the store came into view, I shouted "OOH!  I wanted to go there!" and made a mad dash for the door.  I could tell by his disinterested "Ugh.  Okay" that he thought he was destined for 30-40 minutes of me looking at Lego and Batman toys, but bless him, he went along with it anyway.  I made a beeline for the back of the store, where I spun around and waited for him to catch up.  When he finally arrived I shot a thumb over my shoulder and asked, "You ready to make that Muppet?"  As he followed the trajectory of my thumb, his eyes filled with tears and he said "Yes!'

It took about twenty minutes to settle on a design and another hour for the workshop employees to turn that 2D design into a 3D Muppet.  We spent that hour strolling Central Park.  I could regale you with stories of how hot it was, and how at one point or another we both thought we were going to die of heat stroke, but let's just get back to that Muppet, for nothing is as adorable as this.

That marked the end of our weekend getaway.  By the time we picked up the Muppet, who has since been named Mikey Monster, it was time to gather up our luggage and head to the bus station.  It had been a perfect weekend, and we both agree it was one of our best trips to date.

There are some things I wish we had had time for, but I think they are all best saved for a longer trip during cooler weather.  I've still not been to the Statue of Liberty. I've not stood in line waiting for tickets to Letterman.  I want to one day ride the ferris wheel at the Times Square Toys R Us and buy chocolate at the Hershey store.  I want to see the Rockettes dance at Radio City Music Hall during the holiday season.  There's still a lot of Broadway to be seen.  Crazy as it sounds, I want to watch the ball drop, in person, on New Year's Eve.

Ten years strong with no sign of stopping.  I'm confident there will be other trips to New York.

I mean, we still need to lock our hearts up and throw the key in the river, right?

My Marriage Matters

Today was a monumental day in the history of the American gay rights movement.  Today, the Supreme Court of the United States let the world know that my marriage is just as important, just as legal, just as beautiful, as any heterosexual marriage.

Now that Section 3 of the horrific Defense of Marriage Act has been struck down in a 5-4 decision, I am eligible for 1,138 benefits, rights and protections that were previously denied to me.  A few are listed here.  Insane, right?  All of those things that most of you just take for granted, and here I am rejoicing at finally having access to them.

It was also a big day for California as Proprosition 8, a 2008 amendment to the California state constitution that limited the definition of marriage to those unions occurring between a man and a woman, was thrown out in its own 5-4 decision, bringing the total number of states that recognize marriage equality to thirteen (plus the District of Columbia)!  Thirty-seven to go!

Now, I could take this post in a couple of directions.  I could be sappy.  I could be preachy. I could be political or smug.  Instead, I just want you to know that, today, I am incredibly happy.  I would like to leave you with some of my favorite images from today's Facebook wall postings.

 George Takei quipped that this is what he saw 

when he logged into Facebook this morning.

My friend David, who was lucky enough to be inside when the opinions were read, 

made the front page over at Fox News.  

Wishful thinking on EVERYONE'S part...

And, finally, the most important images of the day:

This fight is far from over.  We will not stop fighting until gay marriage is legal in ALL 50 states.  You've been put on notice, America.  But today?  Today we will just rejoice.

Why I Don’t Speak Arabic

When we arrived in the Metro DC area waaaay back in February 2010, TJ was beginning his shiny new career as a U.S. Diplomat and I was wrapping mine up as a Quality Analyst for Express Scripts, Inc.  After begging and pleading for several months, I had convinced my bosses to allow me to telecommute, which I did for approximately six months before bowing out to study some Spanish in the last couple of months leading up to our arrival in Mexico.  The upside of being a diplomat’s significant other is that you get to travel the world and learn languages for free.  The downside is that, unlike the diplomat, you don’t get paid for that free language training.

Weighing the pros and cons, we had decided it was best for me to not take the full six month Spanish course and instead focus on paying down my credit card and saving up what I could, as at that time we weren’t certain what type of employment opportunities would be available in Mexico.   As it turned out, I paid off the credit card, saved next to nothing, and found work almost immediately at the consulate.  Everything worked out more or less as planned…except I didn’t speak much Spanish and that would prove to be a constant thorn in both of our sides for the next two years as we endeavored to grow a social circle beyond the realm of our new consulate family.  Lots of people spoke English.  Lots didn’t.  It made for some strained conversation.  I didn’t feel any more out of place than the other Eligible Family Members who had received positions at post, though…their Spanish wasn’t so hot, either. 

When we began bidding on our second assignment, we were both in agreement that I would take the full language course this time around.  We rolled out of Guadalajara in mid-October and arrived in Northern Virginia several days later, eager to begin nine months of coupled language training. 

Things began well enough.  We started off in a larger group of nine before eventually being broken off into smaller classes.  We found ourselves in a class with another couple that was headed to Kuwait.  Class was challenging but oh so rewarding when you had a good day.  I hated the teachers that made me study so much but loved the me that was learning such a hard language. 

Then in December our tenants of 2.5 years decided not to renew their lease and we discovered that  lots of repairs were needed before new tenants could move into our Orlando home.  Painting, carpet cleaning, lawn maintenance, pest control, yadda, yadda, yadda.  Suddenly, we found ourselves missing that dual income.    

Then I got the flu right before our January 9^th wedding.  I missed a full week of class.  When I returned, I had no idea what was going on and was suddenly dragging behind the pack.  I stuck it out for another month but never managed to get my groove back.  The house was still vacant.

Annoyed with my lack of progress, bitter because I’d rather have learned Hebrew anyway (try being a non-Hebrew speaking Jewish convert that moves to another country like, oh, say, Mexico where he can’t speak Spanish very well and then try to go to a synagogue.  Completely lost.), confident in the fact that many Israelis speak English, and not feeling the joy of the penny pinching that the empty house was causing, I made the decision to forego my Arabic studies and return to the workforce.  Within a week I had found a great position at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center.

Whether it was the best decision to make in terms of my Israeli social life, I can’t say yet.  I’ll let you know in a few months.  But it was definitely the right decision to make for our pocketbook.  The house remained vacant until mid-March.  The new tenants immediately proved themselves to be a bit…fussy is a nice word.  They wanted/needed several other repairs.

The roof leaked.  The mailbox disappeared.  The house was robbed and a window needed to be replaced.  The roof leaked again.  The washing machine had a leak.  It went on and on and on. 

It was not until mid-June that we received any sort of rental income, and it was only ½ of a normal month’s rent.  Five months without rental income.  That’s a huge chunk of change. 

I studied Arabic for a little over three months.  That was not a huge chunk of time as far as Arabic goes.  Had it been Spanish, I would have been halfway to the finish line.  With Arabic, that’s only 1/3 of the way.  I told myself I would do self study, but I didn’t.  Those characters mean nothing to me without the context provided by a classroom.  Sadly, I feel that it is very much a use-it-or-lose-it situation.  Here I sit on the backend of four months out of class and I find myself struggling to remember some of the stuff I’ve learned.  Maybe I’ll work on it in Israel.  Or perhaps I’ll take that Hebrew class I had wanted in the first place.  Maybe I’ll dabble in both.  Or maybe I’ll just write them both off and work to improve my Spanish, as we want to return to Latin America one day.     

Of course, I’m presently more concerned about what happens when my work contract ends in a couple of weeks and then the side of the house decides to fall off.