Mr. Post Man, Bring Me My Stuff; or, It's on the Barge. . . to Oman

Husband, tonight: "We have a new sport! Guess where your mail has been!"

My dear mom mailed my birthday package on November 13, with plenty of time to get here.

In theory, anyway.

I should mention that this same dear mom taught first grade for over 30 years (yes, she deserves sainthood), and has the most beautiful, perfect manuscript print you can imagine.

So how THIS happened, I have no clue.

Don't you hate when your mail ends up in Oman?

Yes, THAT Oman.  "MISSENT TO MUSCAT"=You've got mail. . . in Oman.

Because if you dim the lights, squint one eye, stand on your head, and drink a bottle of tequila, my mom's perfect "09593" zip code looks like "09893."

Or maybe somebody just got sloppy and threw it on the wrong truck---sort of like when your flight ends up in New Orleans and your luggage ends up in Salt Lake City.

Either way, my Zero bars that have seen who-knows how many countries are still going to be delicious.  They are an extinct species on Gitmo, and you have no idea how little things make you happy until you've gone completely without them for a while.

Then there was this mail incident the same day:

Some poor schmuck named Ian on the USS Winston Churchill is looking for his hockey magazine that somehow got placed inside my ripped up New York magazine cover (but no magazine!). It's was a six week old New York, but that's much better than what we get here.

Our well-meaning but woefully inadequate magazine collection at the NEX/Commissary is laughable. Right now, we have October issues on the stands. . . in December. So in gossip time, the People magazines at the checkout are ancient history. I don't understand---are the magazines being sent here 4th class mail? Are they coming on the slow boat from China? With all that extra space created by a lack of butter, bacon, eggs, sour cream, and white bread (latest thing we don't have), they could send a box of current magazines on the weekly supply barge. I'm yet to see anyone buying a two month old magazine, and since they don't recycle paper here---they burn it in a landfill---it's just causing pollution.

And if you are wondering why I don't just look at them online, you obviously haven't been paying attention. :)

Other than wonky mail, and lack of current magazines, and the slowest internet possible, life's been busy.

Our dance cards have been full.  I guess you can be a hermit here, but it would take real, REAL effort. Recently, neighbors forced me to come to their house to play poker. And by forced, I mean they repeatedly called the house and said, "Do we need to come over and drag your ass out of your house?" after I hemmed and hawed the first few times they called. People here are persistent that you get out of your casa and socialize (or exercise---that's what another neighbor does. He's my husband's personal "no excuses!" trainer. If you don't feel like going out for a run, fine---there's a ridge that needs hiking just down the road).

It's so easy to come home from work, throw down that garage door, and barely say "hi" to the neighbors. Here, you know everyone, and chances are, you are borrowing things from at least one of them because your stuff is forever in transit. I love seeing people up and down the street standing on the sidewalks or in driveways socializing with their neighbors. And I may seem like a sociable person, but my comfort zone is being alone (and quiet--a rarity with two sons). In many ways, I am still that awkward middle schooler with social anxiety issues. Being in a situation where I constantly have to socialize has been very, very good for me.

And now---on to taping up signs where I want our furniture to go. Yes, happy day!---we have furniture and everything else coming next Thursday! Happy (late) birthday and (early) Merry Christmas to me!