New direction?

Maybe it's because of the recent drama, but I'm beginning to crave change, perhaps a new direction in my life and lifestyle. The last 12 months in Germany have been a wonderful holiday. I've lived a slow-paced, leisurely existence, which was free from hustle, bustle, and any real commitments aside from feeding my pets and keeping a straight and humble abode.

It's been nice, but not necessarily good for me. I think I've become lazy, accustomed to doing what I want, whenever I want. I've let myself go a little because there hasn't been any real reason to...let' s say... get that regular manicure and pedicure. Most days, I don't see anyone except Charlie and Max, and they seem pretty ok with me sans the frills. And since I've been trying to get pregnant the last year, dieting hasn't been a viable option. Besides, someone told me at carrying a little extra weight was not bad, because estrogen is stored in fat cells.

Oh! Excuses, excuses...

Fortuntately, I need not look too far ahead to find the change I crave. Our move to Barcelona is only a couple months away. I could use this opportunity to shake things up in my life.

My first consideration is where Max and I might live. Do we look for housing outside or within the city limits? When I was pregnant, I felt impelled to look for a house with a garden in a neighboring town, not unlike where I live today. But I find when I live remotely, I don't make the effort to get out, explore, socialize, and do what I should to stimulate myself. And so, I am now contemplating life in the big, crowded, noisy city, where I must force myself to get dressed, get out, if only to walk Charlie to the elusive grass patch.

Is any of this making sense? I guess what I am wondering is whether I should listen to these urges and go for the life that I want today or do I continue to hold back a little and make decisions based on the life I hope to be living (complete with a baby and a white picket fence) someday?

One very slow day at a time

I'm feeling a tad perturbed at my husband's employer today. We've known about his promotion and our move to Barcelona for three weeks now, but we still don't know about the benefits package details or even what Max's new salary might be. You heard me right. Max had to accept a job without really knowing if the compensation made the change and aggravation worth our while.

In some ways, benefits and salary don't matter. The notation on his resume and the wealth of experience he will gain cannot be valued. This is a good career move for Max. And, what is good for him is good for us. Still, we are suppose to be relocating to a different country in short two and a half months (3 weeks of which we will be away for the holidays). Yet, human resources hasn't even scheduled our house-hunting trip or given us any idea whether we will get a housing allowance. Max had to hand in our lease termination here in Germany without knowing what our new address will be. Moreover, I can't begin to start deciding what to pack and what store without having an idea of where we will land.

Basically, our life is in limbo. And frankly, I don't like the feeling. All Max and I can do is wait--for calls and letters from the company or for my next prenatal visit--to get a glimmer of insight into our immediate future. I find the time in between, void of any new information, absolutely suffocating.

Living life one day at a time--it's easier said than done. Any advice on how I might make this phase in my life a little less difficult?

I'm leaving on a ...

Predictions

I couldn’t resist cracking open a complimentary fortune cookie after lunch today. Ordinarily, I don’t believe in mystic practices whether it is horoscopes, fortunetellers, dream interpretations, or the like. But now that I am about to embark on a life that is filled with unknowns, I’ll take a little guidance and sudden insight from just about any source.

Besides, after unwrapping and reading the contents of my cookies, I couldn’t help but believe its proverb.

“Adventures can be a real happiness.”

This simple fortune reminded me of how I first felt when I learned of our relocation. I saw it as an agent for change and embraced the move to Europe as an opportunity for a wonderful adventure. And deep, deep down, I still feel this way. I’m sure once Max and I actually move, my mood will be less emotional and more excited.

So I apologize for all my whining as of late. In my life outside the Martini Lounge I try to maintain a sunny disposition and stiff upper lip. But here in my more private, virtual world, I can let me emotions come through. For this, I am grateful.

That would be a negative

Sorry to leave you all hanging, but I got caught without Internet during my holiday travel. Besides, there wasn't anything to report. No rabbits dying over here. My test came back negative. This is a little worrisome because I never did get my monthly cycle, but will chalk it up to stress at this point. We'll see what next month brings.

I still have to get through this week--my very last here in the U.S. for quite some time. It's going to be hard saying goodbye to everyone and everything I hold so dear. Oh, I am dreading this!

Over the weekend, I did get a bit a happy news. Jules booked a ticket to Germany for the end of the month. So I will have a buddy with me during the dreaded 4-0- birthday. And at least when it comes to one of my friends, I'll be able to offer a casual "see you later" and really mean it.

I got the blues

I went to pay for a cup of coffee the other day, reached into my beaded, pink, coin purse to lighten its load, and pulled out a fistful of coins. Picking out the quarters proved to be a chore because for every American coin I had as many Euros—remnants from my recent house-hunting trip.

The sight of unfamiliar currency in my very familiar purse illustrates where I am these days—caught between two lands, with one foot planted on this side of the pond and its opposite straddling the other. I am now a visitor in my own home. It feels lonely and I haven’t even moved yet.

Of course, it doesn’t help that Max is away for ten long days. He left for a business convention in Hawaii (of all places), while I am stuck wrapping up final details. Today, movers come to pack our stuff to be shipped to Germany. And in preparation, I’ve spent the greater part of my weekend disassembling my beautifully assembled house, reducing our worldly possessions into three piles: things to move, things to store, and things to give away. I hate to admit this, but I actually got weepy pulling photographs down from the walls. I loved my place and was very happy there.

Moving now feels so real and so imminent—probably because it is. Tonight is the first in a series of going away events in my honor -- just in time to enhance my already sentimental state.

New developments

When you don’t have anything substantial to say, do you say anything at all?

I could bore you with all the details of my move, but it doesn’t seem necessary. You all know I’m a little busy these days, right?

Monday the movers come to take our furniture away. Beginning Thursday Max, Charlie, and I will be living with Jules until December 1.

Everything is happening so fast!

Well, not everything. The house remains unsold and the market is in free fall. So with this being said, I’m exciting about a possible twist as it relates to my home. At our monthly homeowners’ meeting the neighborhood builder approached me about renting the house for two years as the new sales office. Development begins in February on phase two the neighborhood and my unit sits across from the site.

I agreed to discuss the matter, and representatives from the company are coming to look at my place TODAY!

Keep your finger’s crossed. If this works out, move preparations will be complete. And I’ll be ready to focus my energies on saying good bye friends and family I leave behind.

Life is Good

The days continue to tick down for Max and me. We only have twenty-five days to go before exiting the good ol’ United States.

Everyday, I work to physically prepare for this move. This past weekend, for example, Max and I spent an entire day filling out an inventory sheet for insurances purposes. We took photographs of every item being stored and shipped, counted towels, dishes silver, pots, and pans, and put a dollar figure against everything. Better safe than sorry.

Through the process, I learned, despite my efforts to pair down and clean out, I own 48 pairs of shoes. Max and I also counted 30 bath towels, 3 aprons, and 7 cooking mitts. Who needs 7 cooking mitts? I do. I want to take as much of my stuff as possible. Maybe this new attachment to worldly possessions has been heightened because I feel like I am leaving behind so much—my career, my family, my friends, my favorite restaurants, my house.

Speaking of house, it shows an average one time a week. This weekend a young couple showed interest in the property, but still no offers. It looks as if my home will stand empty until it sells. I’m stressed out about this fact. Life would have been so much better had the house sold before we left.

But I’m not going to spend this post complaining. Life is good. We found a beautiful place just outside in Bad Durkheim, Germany, to call our home. Living thousands of miles away will not dampen the closeness I feel toward my family and friends. Max will work and travel less, giving us much needed quality time together. And soon, I will have time to blog to my heart’s content.

Really, could it get much better?

It's ours!

It looks as if Max and I have found our new home in Germany--the rennovated house originally built in 1020 A.D. and owned by the architect. It will take a couple weeks to formalize our verbal contract, but it looks like a done deal. I can't tell you how much better I feel knowing where we'll be living. And Max and I couldn't be more excited!

Wow!

Housing update

The architect who renovated the beautiful 1000 year-old house is willing to deal. Stay tuned!

Back Home Empty Handed

One day of access to the Internet from my hotel room costs over 30 dollars. Outrageous! However, the only English-channel I have had access to since arriving in Germany is CNN World, and if I have to watch Larry King or Anderson Cooper one more time I worried I might do something dangerous. I tried to branch out in my TV viewing habits, watching 20 full minutes of an Arab-language version of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire before succumbing to my desire to be connected. I rationalized that $30 is a paltry sum in comparison to my mental health and well being and will submit the Internet fee to Max’s company guilt-free.

Where to begin?

I saw eight apartments during my weeklong visit to Germany. After serious contemplation, my husband and I have decided to take temporary living arrangements during the month of December. I would rather wait in the hopes of finding an apartment that easily suits us, rather than settle.

I learned one important lesson during this first visit. Germans in this part of the country love to have an afternoon break of coffee and cake. I could easily gain 20 pounds living here. The food is delectable (although a lot of it is fried); the wine is fabulous (and cheap). I don’t have to worry about how I’ll spend my time when I’m no longer working—I’ll be at the gym trying to work off my ever-bulging belly.

I have so much more to tell you, but have decided to wait until we move to share stories of daily living. Trust me—there will be stories. At first glance life in Germany seems very similar to life in the United States, but subtle differences are bound to keep things interesting for months to come.

That’s all from here! I fly out this morning and arrive home by dinner tonight. I’m anxious to see my new American citizen—Max.

As we say here in Mannheim…

“Cheers!”

I died and went to…

On my second to last day in Germany, Roswitha took me by one of those homes that is known to be available only through word-of-mouth and, then, only to a select few.

Twenty-five miles from the industrial city of Mannheim lay one of the most beautiful areas of Rhineland-Pfalz--the wine country. While you can take the autobahn to quickly get to point A or B, Roswitha chose the ride along the narrow and winding street called the Weinstrausse, or wine street, of Southern Germany, which showcases the region. As you drive, rolling hills of vineyard after vineyard hide old, quaint villages until you almost happen upon them. Every couple miles you come to a new little town, and just as quickly you leave it.

It was in one of these small villages, Roswitha showed me a house that dates back to 1000 A.D. The architect who worked 10 years updating the house met us at the door. His 80-year-old parents, who actually own the property, joined him. In the sweetest and most approachable of ways, I was being interviewed.

“I met Roswitha and trusted her instincts instantly,” the architect explained. “I asked her to keep this house in mind, if she found a client that might be good for it.”

I was the first client Rositha had ever brought to see this house. And now I wish she hadn’t.

Stepping from the courtyard into the main foyer is like stepping forward through time. Even though the original rock serves as decorative wall throughout, everything on the inside is thoroughly modern, like something out of an archictural digest.

Just to honor this family’s privacy, I will only post a couple photographs. These photos don't do the home justice, anyway, but hopefully you'll get an idea. Some features include a huge tub that slides out to be centered under a sky roof (so that someone can appreciate the stars while they bathe), windows that automatically adjust depending on the weather, spiral staircases made of galanized steel, a loft bedroom, and marble tile flooring from Italy. I was so mesmorized by the interior; I had to take a second tour just to understand the layout.

As much as I liked the place, I could tell the family also liked me. By the end of the visit, I was sharing photos of Charlie and Max, and they were sharing photos of the restoration process.

I only wish I had known what the rental costs of the unit was before I fell in love with it--$3300 dollars a month, which included all the utilities, the closets, kitchen, bathroom fixtures light fixtures (normally you have to buy all of these items yourself. Apartments in Germany come completely bare).

If I were looking to buy a home, than I’d be willing to spend this sort of money. But for a rental--for something that I will get no return on my money-- I cannot fathom it. Besides, my house still hasn’t sold and we run the risk of having to support two households in the next 6 months. I need to be practical. Max and I don’t want to be house poor, especially when we need the cash for all our future travels in Europe, right?

Needless to say, every other apartment has paled in comparison to the home on the Winestrausse. And just to heighten my sense of longing, the architect sent me a lovely note via e-mail this evening.

"The meeting this afternoon with Mrs Roswitha and you was very nice, really!

After you showed me the picture from your husband and your little dog, my parents and me had a really good feeling, that we could give the house to you without some problems - if you want to...

You are very natural and sympathic and your husband seems to be the same way..."

They want me; I want the house. Roswitha thinks the family will come down on the rent.

But really, what are the chances???

House Hunting Continues

Max flew to Germany for the weekend to help me search for an apartment. Unfortunately, his trip was not time well spent. Finding a place to live in the Rhine-Pfalz region of Germany has not been easy mostly because leasing agents are not in a hurry to return our phone calls. After two days, Max and I saw only three apartments, and not one met our needs.

Now I must continue the search alone. Max returns to the Unites States today so that he can be sworn in as a U.S. citizen. It is an important occasion for him, and I am sorry to be missing it. But duty calls. I have leads on four apartments—two in the heart of Mannheim, one in Speyer, and one in Neustadt.

Desirable rental property seems to be a hot commodity in this part of Germany because of the large numbers of people moving here. Large-scale apartment complexes do not exist, and most properties are renovated houses and townhouses. And the fact is that many of the best properties are rented through word-of-mouth as opposed to advertising through the paper or Internet. Either way, it only takes a day for the best properties to go on and off the market. I've been told you almost have to be living here, checking the paper and Internet everyday to find the best places. So if I don’t get lucky and find a must-have property by Wednesday, I will return home without a signed contract. Always one step ahead of us, Roswitha, our paten, has already reserved temporary housing if we don’t find an apartment we like.

I hope it doesn’t come to that.

Day 1 - Househunting

Typically, air travel is a bear these days unless you’re flying first class. Because Max’s company offered to fly me first class to Germany for my house-hunting trip, I enjoyed the best Lufthansa air had to offer-- fresh scented towelettes, a massaging passenger seat, and, of course, unlimited alcohol. I even managed to get about 4 hours sleep during the trip over, making it easier for me to adjust to the time difference.

Max isn’t with me for this part of the voyage because of an important business meeting, but he arranged for a driver to pick me up at the airport, as well as a paten to take me around to see apartments. I’m not exactly sure what the definition of “paten” is, but mine’s name is Roswitha. She’s a lovely German woman who spent many years living in India. She knows from experience how difficult it can be for foreigners to settle in a new place, so she decided to set up a business and serve as a personal assistant to ex-patriots during the moving process. Based on our preferences, she’s been scouring apartments and has reserved four full days to take me around town. Unfortunately, she hasn’t been successful in finding a flat in the heart of Mannheim that accepts pets. And, so I have expanded my search to include smaller towns such as Speyer and Neudstadt. Leaving my dog Charlie behind is NOT an option.

Roswitha will also be our guide for 6 weeks after we move—helping us to register with the city, set up bank accounts, call to have our utilities switched on, and purchase a car. I cannot imagine what this experience would be like without this support, and I am grateful the company is willing to pay for us to have her.

Thursday night, I met up with some of Max’s co-workers. Thavvy, an American who also works in Germany, invited me to join a group for a champagne tasting in Heidelberg. The club, called the Print Media club, was amazing. A local band playing R &B classics from Earth Wind and Fire to the Black-eyed Peas, blew me away. Had I closed my eyes, I wouldn’t have thought I was in a foreign country.

Still, I was--partying with people from all over the globe including Italy, Brazil, Holland, Mexico, Bulgaria. I also met several Americans, who were very open in sharing their experiences as life as an ex-pat in Germany. Even though I know it’s going to be have its ups and downs, I think I can handle it.

Guten Morgen from Gemany

Hello, friends!

Quick post to let you know I arrived safe and sound. I am writing this post from Mannheim, Germany. I attempted to write both a meaningful and stirring post, but here are the facts working against me: I've raided the hotel mini bar, been up 36 hours straight, and am slightly hungover (from partying with a group of a dozen ex-pats from around the globe). And even though I haven't found my dream apartment (in fact I have found exactly zero that will take pets), after one day I do believe Max and I will do just fine here.

More to come when I've had some rest and food...

Follow that bird

Sunny Day
Sweepin' the clouds away
On my way to where the air is sweet

Can you tell me how to get,
How to get to Sesame Street?

Every day, I take steps that make relocation to Germany seem even more real. I’ve forwarded my mail, canceled the XM radio subscription, and designated my sister as my power-of-attorney to pay any residual bills or to sign contracts in my absence.

This relocation is eating up hours of my day. Even when I’m not doing something move-related, it’s on my mind anyway. I’ll be cooking dinner and it will hit me: “Don’t forget to send for your driving record. Stock up on training treats for Charlie. Close your Belk account.” As a result, my refrigerator is covered with yellow post-it note reminders, strangely organized in such a way to be taking on the shape of Big Bird.

Come and play!
Everythings A-O-kay.
Friendly neigh-
bors there, that's were we meet.
Can you tell me how to get,
how to get to Sesame Street?

It’s not always taxing chores, however. This weekend I went on a $1,400 shopping spree. Max and I made a list of things we’d probably need over the next couple years—household items that would be cheaper to buy in the U.S. thanks to the devaluation of the dollar. Based on recommendation of other ex-pats, we also stocked up on our favorite cold medicines and deodorants—the types of products that are formulated differently in other countries. As a result, my single-car garage looks like a fallout shelter, if not for a nuclear attack, than at least for a bird flu pandemic. This just reminded me to schedule my flu shot next week. Where’s that sticky pad?

You see what I mean?

I’ve also been getting requests from Max’s coworkers in Germany to bring things over from everything from Flavor-aid drink packages to Swivel stroller clips. I had no idea what these products were and had to enlist the help of a mother of young children. It turns out Flavor-aid is a cheaper version of Kool-Aid, and only Food Lion carries it in my area. I called six stores before I found one that carried the flavors I need.

Swivel stroller clips were even more puzzling to me. Thankfully a helpful clerk at Toys R Us enlightened me. The clips were, of course, on also an isle that featured Sesame Street products. I kid you not.

I think I finally have everything I need.

It's a magic carpet ride,
ev'ry door will open wide
to happy people like you.
Happy people like,
what a beautiful
Sunny day...

Wednesday, I finally leave for Germany to begin looking for a place to live. I’m anxious to explore the area and to get a feel for the place. If I find something, you’ll be the first to know because I am bringing my Mac book and a digital camera along for the ride.

And next week, if you are really good boys and girls, I’ll do an interpretive dance to Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood theme song.

Reality check

I’ve been poked and prodded more than I ever have—not physically, but mentally and emotionally. In preparation for life abroad, Max’s company has been giving us the once over, sort of an ex-patriot boot camp, to make sure we are both fit for our new assignment. We’ve completed hours of questionnaires, personality profiles, and assessments, spoken to a career psychologist, and finally attended a personalized two-day seminar on cultural differences between life in the United States and Germany.

I guess we’ve passed muster, because the company still plans send us to Europe on December 1st.

But even though we’ve been told we’re ideal candidates for this delegation, I feel as though I’m lacking in some ways. While I know I’ll make the most of my time abroad, the last couple weeks of training have caused me to realize something about myself that I do not like.

I’m a spoiled American.

(Gasp!) You find this revelation more than hard to believe, yes? Well, I can barely comprehend it myself. Still, in my heart of hearts—despite the fact that I am a daughter of immigrants and have traveled abroad extensively-- it’s true: I’m a red, white, and blue-blooded, run my central-air conditioning till October, super mall rat, cosmopolitan drinking, drive my Element to travel only ½ mile, how dare you smoke in this restaurant, want my food and news in 15 minutes American.

I first came to this realization when Max and I started looking at pictures of apartments and housing rentals.

“This is a nice… very nice apartment.” Max would say as I turned my nose up at his selection. “No? Then, how about this one?”

“I don’t like the flooring.”

“That wood trim is appalling.”

“The garden is too over-run.”

In other words, I found excuses not to like anything. Granted, when I actually visit these places next week, I might find one I like. But in the meantime, I can’t help but be worried. What if I am not cut out to be an ex-pat?

Then again, maybe fear, sadness, and anxiety are all part of the experience. Wouldn’t it be worse if I didn’t question myself?

Rubbish

I had to take a couple hours off from the office this morning because the man responsible for moving our furniture to Germany made a visit to “survey” the house.

Room by room and with clipboard close in hand, he toured our home, asking which of our worldly possessions would be shipped to Europe and which would go to purgatory (some nondescript storage unit in Washington DC). Max and I offered our best guesses as to designation. After all, we haven’t found an apartment yet, so it’s hard to say with any certainty whether my white tiger print chair with rustic chenille throw will make the final cut or not. It’s just too close to call.

After the mover’s visit, however, I couldn’t help buty feel my years spent gathering home décor had been diminished somehow. I tried not to take this personally. Still, piece-by-piece, the mover reduced my life’s collection to nothing more than a detailed inventory spreadsheet. It’s hard to describe how this felt. I can only liken the experience to divorce—similar to how a simple signature is supposed to erase (legally) years of pain, sweat, and tears.

Odd. Very odd.

I’m not sure if you can tell from my posts, but my stress level is pretty intense these days. If it could be likened to the National Threat Advisory, my level would be in the red zone. (And, like every other American citizen who hears about this ridiculous warning , I haven’t a clue as to what I can do to reduce the threat.)

Enough already!!

In other news…

*My BFF hasn’t delivered her first child yet, but we’re expecting baby girl any day now. I’m still planning to be in the delivery room. Wow!!!

*If all goes well, Max and I will travel to Washington DC on Friday to catch the Marc Anthony/Jennifer Lopez concert. I’m not a J-Lo fan, but I love her husband’s salsa music. In fact, we have front-row seats (at $150 a piece) for this concert. What can I say—it was a going away present to myself.

* Finally, I’d like to get your thoughts on the silliest song in music history. Here are my choices:

“Girl, You’ll be a Woman” by Neal Diamond
“MacArther Park” by Donna Summer
“Safety Dance” by Men Without Hats


Who would you choose?

Choices

Max arrived safe and sound from his extended stay in Germany. It’s good to have my man home--even though he came back empty handed or, to be more exact, without a signed lease on a new apartment.

The bottom line is Max refused to make a decision without me. My husband reckoned that, while he will be headed to a job most mornings, I would be stuck at home, day in and day out and especially in the beginning before I meet new friends and learn the area. For this reason, it seemed important that I be more than content with our new abode.

“If momma ain’t happy, no one be happy. We’ll just have to go back together and find our new place,” Max said with a smile, handing me an itinerary for our upcoming house-hunting trip.

We leave for Germany on October 18th, and won’t return until we have found our new home.

Pretty exciting stuff, huh?

But, it’s also a little nerve racking. Choosing the right apartment and neighborhood will be a tough decision. During his recent visit, Max surveyed four areas—Heidelberg, Mannheim, Speyer, and Neustadt. Each had its advantages and disadvantages.

In the beginning, we had our hearts set on Heidelberg—a beautiful city and popular tourist destination. The downside of living in Heidelberg is that it is at least 45 minutes from Max’s office. Also, because it’s desirable, rent tends to be much higher. Given that the sale of my condo is going so poorly, we may be funding two households for a while. Prudence dictates Max and I choose a more economical area to live than Heidelberg. Boo!

Mannheim sits twenty minutes from Heidelberg. It’s an industrial city—much less picturesque than Heidelberg. Because Mannheim was almost leveled during World War II, rebuilding came quickly and without much consideration to architectural details. It doesn’t have the German charm, and looks more like a run-of-the-mill American city. Max says there are some very nice areas, however. Within a 15-minute stroll outside the center, we could find an apartment bordering the Rhine or a large, lovely park. The other advantage of being in Mannheim is that there exists easy and expansive public transportation system, as well as plenty for me to explore and do—including a thriving salsa community.


Across the Rhine and 20 minutes from the office, Speyer is a small, quaint town, which boasts more restaurants and pubs per capita than any other place in Germany. It doesn’t offer the variety that a larger city, and in some ways wouldn’t be as convenient for me to make my way around. However the natives tell us, if we’re looking for a more traditional German experience, than Speyer would make a nice choice.

Neustadt is a small town in the wine country, which I have nixed from our choices only because it seems too quiet for my tastes. I may have been raised on a farm, but I have the soul of a city girl. If I lived in this small town made famous for its wineries, I run the risk of becoming the village's American wino.

Of course, I don’t know any of this for a fact, basing my judgments solely from what Max and his co-workers tell me. Since a few of you know the area, feel free to leave opinions of your own. And for those of you don’t know Germany, I’d still like your thoughts. What should be important criteria in making this decision?

Attention Deficit

Charlie hates my new Mac, seeing it as a rival, yet another thing to take my attention away from him. Whenever I pull out my computer I get this look from my dog.

And when sad puppy eyes don’t work, he decides to get in my face.

This morning Charlie was particularly needy. I woke up early--a futile attempt to squeeze extra minutes into the day, working my way down Egan’s blogroll, searching for new reads to add to my dwindling list. But as soon as I reached for the computer, Charlie started barking.

“Not now, nut job.” I said.

“Bark, bark bark.” The dog is relentless when he wants attention.

This is the sort of morning when I especially miss my husband, who has been in Germany all month, transitioning to his new job, and narrowing the search for our new abode. If Max were here, home with me, I could blog to my heart’s content. He would take Charlie out for a morning walk, so I could do as I pleased. Then once my guys returned, Max would bring me a cup of coffee, so I wouldn’t have to leave the bed.

I haven’t had coffee in bed all month. Come to think of it, I haven’t had anything in bed the whole month—except for a whiny dog and tolerant MacBook.

Fortunately, there is a steaming cup of hand-delivered coffee in my future. Max returns of Sunday, and Charlie and I will both be so relieved to have him home.