Big dreams, little hope.

I've been dreaming big dreams as of late.

Dreams of a home. Dreams of a mild sort of self sustainability. Dreams of bees, chickens, fresh fruit and vegetables. Dreams laced with the scent of tomato vines, fresh rich compost and setting my table with the work of my own hands.

We're looking at homes, and I find myself attracted to these huge plots. Some of them are acres large. One of them has 100 pistachio trees already on property. What do I know about growing anything other then children? Not one thing. I know if you put seeds in god dirt and give them water occasionally they can grow. I know that a tomato given an unlikely home (like the one that grew in the window well of our old house after a storm knocked the seedling over) will thrive and produce delightful tomatoes that make lovely soups and salads. I know that both my girls liked having a few plants to water.

And yet here I am considering an all out dive into the deep end of self sustainability. I'm doing in depth research on bee keeping, because I like honey. I like the happy sound of bees at work. I like pollinators for a garden. I dig bees. I'm not terrifically fond of being stung and can count on half a hand the number of times it's happened to me. I know I'm not allergic, but it still hurts. And yet here I am thinking about taking on my own little swarm of pets that is sure to inflict stings on me. How odd.

Here I am considering MADNESS!

And it makes me feel bone deep contentment. A certain kind of happiness that feels right. I don't know if I have much hope of getting these things all at once. I believe my husband would prefer something slightly more suburban for our family. And I suppose a closeness to other people would help turn my hermit ways into more social niceness.

And yet,

The idea of bees and happy clucking chickens. Of the smell of well loved earth. The idea of walking through my gardens and feeling that bone deep sense of right...

It is a nice big dream.

Where did I get off to?

 So it's been since very early spring since I posted. You see winter finally buggered off and it brought on the longest bit of hot summer weather folks around here have seen in some time. Almost all of july was hot. I'm talking 80 degrees, some days got all the way up to 90 hot. Folks sweat, folks moaned. I sat in the sun and blissed out so completely I almost forgot.

We got orders for our next move, and for a time I was ecstatic. We were going to San Antonio Texas. This is a place my husband and I dreamed of retiring to. This was a place with good schools and good houses and good... everything. And just when everything looked like it was going to be gravy and jam and sunshine and rainbows we were given a last minute diversion. My husband was allowed to pick from 6 bases (4 of which we were okay with but NONE were ones we really really wanted) which was to be our new new home. I cried. I moaned. The girls cried. The husband bitched and groaned. And now we're going instead to a teeny tiny base out in the middle of no mans land in upstate California. Beale. Because his job will be "easier" there. Not because it'd be good for the rest of us. Nope. He just is tired of shagging ass every day and if he has to work somewhere that's not his dream he'd rather not work himself to death.

I have to respect that. I wanted one of the Carolinas or Georgia (closer to places I know and like) but the job there would be similar to the job here and he's exhausted with the job here. So, California it is.

To say I'm... less then pleased is overstating the thing.

Regardless. The saying goes "Bloom where you're planted" and while I may well refuse to bloom, since I'm a delicate fucking flower and prone to whining about everything, I shall adapt. I'm reasonably ok at adapting.

My teenager has been acting like a typical teenage girl. She found a boyfriend. She's had a few boyfriends now, and a girlfriend or two. Thus far her relationships have been perfectly acceptable. However she got herself caught up in a romance with a 19 (or is he 20?.. Regardless he's pretty much a kid too) year old enlisted boy. The military kind of looks down on underage (Even though she's 17, she's still underage!) Folks with their above legal age air people. So we had to break up the relationship with much fighting and drama from the teenager who accused us, the military, and me in particular of many awful things. Mostly, she cried.

Again, it's underestimating things to say that too distressed me a bit.

I'm overwhelmed. Quite at the end of my rope. If "god only gives you what he thinks you can handle" well then God is an ass and I don't like him much at the moment. It's rather a good thing I prefer to be an agnostic or my faith would be taking a bit of a blow with the latest developments.

All our nice warm weather blew away a couple weeks ago. I've been too busy fretting over changes and the move and the teenager to be bothered by the sudden drop in sunshine per day.

My sleep schedule is a hot mess, my hair is thinning, and I've been rather unwell feeling all due to stress. Kind of wish I had somehow managed to pick up a friend somewhere along the way just so I'd have someone to whine at about all this. The hubs isn't much of a sounding board since he's going through just as much if not more stress and frustration too.

I have a couple of buddies in Sacramento and Napa Vally so at least I'm not venturing into the unknown. And I'm really trying to locate and appreciate the bright side of the move. Right now I kind of just want it over and done with. I am partially anxious that they'll change things all over again. There's still a Month that they can screw us over in, after all. And I REFUSE to get excited until I'm fucking there. Then I can try to fall in love with my new location.

Mostly I'm mad. I'm mad that we lost San Antonio. It was a beautiful dream, and nearly a beautiful reality. I'm mad that of all the relationships my teenager could choose to get tangled in she choose one that would cause maximum drama and strife. I'm mad that I'm not coping better with things that are naturally occurring parts of life.

I'm mad as hell right now and I have nowhere to go and vent out my rage and frustration.

So I'm here instead. Blogging on my FAR underused blog. Writing into the ether of nothingness that is the internet and wondering if anyone even hears me.

I'm breaking up with you, winter.

Look winter. I wrote this beautiful moving piece some time ago about my last first snow. And I get it. You were moved. I'm a deep chick. I sometimes know how to flatter a body. But, damn it winter. It's spring now, I reset my clocks. I see tulips doing their best to stay above ground. It's bloody well time to pack it in, and take your drunk ass home. It's nothing personal, winter. You can come back next year and bluster and blow and make me turn up the collar of my coat. Because, honestly, buddy I' pretty sure that unless we get Florida or Arizona where we go next we're gonna see each other again.

I think snow is really very pretty, little dancing fairy flakes. I think ice is neat and nifty. But, seriously? Dude.  Go home. As it is you are going to have the mother of all hangovers after this binge. Take a few aspirins, eat something, and get some well deserved rest. It's time, Winter. It's time to go now.

Love (but really I'd love you more if you left)

~Amber

And a new year

New years even in a German town is delightful! We've been somewhere else, both of our other years here. We went to Paris, our first year. We drove out to Edelweiss lodge, and slept through midnight our second. Both years were excellent and awesome.

This year is our tenth year of marriage. This year we wanted to stay up late, we wanted to see fireworks over the river. We drove out to Bernkastle-Kues. We'd originally planned to go to Koln, but the three hour drive past midnight sounded exhausting  Berkastle is a tiny sweet little wine trail town that we've both fallen head over heels in love with. I've never seen new years fireworks in Germany. I didn't know a thing about them.

I only recently discovered, they're fucking FANTASTIC! Apparently sales of anything bigger then a sparkler is limited most of the rest of the year. But right around new years the stores carry them en mass at decent prices. the locals seem to LOVE them.

Oh and do they.

I can't even begin to describe the insane fun of a bunch of Drunken gleeful Germans suddenly armed with fireworks. Bottle rockets, Roman candles, sparklers, some weird awful smelling can of colored smoke. Everywhere all around us as the night progressed there were sudden random instances of someone setting off their fireworks soon. The instances increased until, at last, midnight. The sound of cheering and booming and everywhere, every way you looked sparkling ad shining and booming were fireworks.

Oh goodness I laughed for a good solid twenty minutes.

We were occasionally frightened we'd get hurt, but no one seemed to be badly injured near us. Just jolly drunken laughing hugging and celebrating Germans everywhere.

This is my new favorite thing. and it was a magnificent way to ring in the new year and celebrate 10 years married to my best friend.