Job, Sweet, Job Number 7

In the last fifteen years, I have held more jobs that most people do in a lifetime. I had almost decided that not working for a year or two might be a good thing. I talked myself into living and loving the typical officer wife life: lunch dates with friends, going to the gym with a workout partner, cooking great meals every single night, and attending a weekly Bible Study.

Praise the Lord! This arrived in my inbox today.

Ms. XXXX,

Congratulations, you have been selected for FLES Teacher position at XXX-XXXX Schools!  

Please review the job offer letter, sign, and return to me annotating your acceptance/declination. You can return this by either scanning in the email or fax.  

If you have any questions, please contact me by email or at the phone number provided in the job offer letter.



I will be teaching Spanish to elementary aged students. Can I tell you that teaching kinder and first graders scares the BeJeezus out of me? I don't even know where to begin. I've decided I just can't think about it too much or it stresses me out. I find it much more comforting knowing that I can now purchase a new washing machine and not feel guilty. Who needs lunch dates and work out partners when you can have clean clothes?

A House to Call Home

Today we got the keys to home sweet home number nine.

Better yet. After having been separated for more than 22 months, we are now living together as a family.

The house is beautiful; we are blessed beyond measure. However, it is waking up to this view completed with the sounds of hundreds of chirping birds that fills me with joy. It is also possible I am just so completely relieved to be done with traveling with a cat that I can now enjoy the little things in life.

Did I mention I am considering homesteading? Please, please, please, Uncle Sam! Don't make me move again for at least three years!

Snow Day

After living in Kansas and learning how to drive in snow, after living in Germany and learning how to live in snow six months out of the year, and after surviving two blizzards in Virginia last year, I never thought we would move to Georgia and have a snow day.

But we are.

If I had the camera, I would show you proof of the one tiny speck of freezing rain that fell this morning at 0910 just seconds before it melted. Unfortunately, Wes seemed to think that the camera would be put to better use at Fort Leonardwood where inches upon inches of snow is probably expected in the next few weeks.

Apparently, in Low Country anyway, the word snow has a very different meaning than in the above mentioned places. In coastal Georgia, the fear of snow was enough to cancel school. I think it is fair to say that there might have been some overreacting. Or maybe someone just didn't want to have to get out of bed this morning, and this was a sure fire way to secure extra sleep.

Either way, I'll take a day off.

A Perfect Fit

A couple of months ago, when I tried to reassure myself that teaching elementary school on a military installation would be a perfect fit for me, I made a list of all of the reasons why teaching the little ones was so great. In that list, I totally forgot that your students like you and are eager to show you how much they like you.

Today I was completely blown away when a little girl used her two dollars to buy me a Christmas gift from the PTA holiday shop. This is the same little girl that will PCS to Germany in January, and she doesn't have one pair of shoes with solid soles. Her poor little feet will be frozen walking around in six inches of snow. This is the same little girl that wears t-shirts with holes and pants a size or two too small.

And she remembered me with a gift.

I am honored.

Again, I was without words when another boy told me he would be moving in the spring when his mom has made plans to separate from the military. He said his mom is saving up to buy a new car (they currently don't have any transportation unless a friend drives the family of six some place), and as a result, the five kids would probably go without gifts this year. When I asked what he thought about this, he told me it was okay because at least they would be together. He said, "It could be worse. My mom could be in Iraq."

Another student used his allowance to buy me a necklace. It has a silver charm in the shape of a snail with tiny pink stones. It is really meant for a seven year old girl, but I will wear it with pride. It is beautiful in my eyes.

These past few months have made me realize that military kids are the absolute best kids. They live often in difficult situations and yet they almost always have the most generous hearts and the best outlook on life.

This Crazy Life of Ours

I was convinced I was going to be a widow left with the responsibility of rearing two young boys on my own. I had the million dollar life insurance policy allotted into the proper categories - on paper anyway. I had decided I would give the truck to some dear friends of ours. I envisioned the closets cleared of all men's wear - okay maybe I would keep a few shirts as mementos, but the desert gear was definitely gone. With the exception of where I would live, I had it all decided just in case the unit commander arrived at my classroom door one school day or the uniformed chaplain arrived at my front door one weekend.

Others might read this as crazy. I call it coping. I have heard that many military spouses do the same thing just prior to a deployment or during deployment.

However, on Thursday night, just twelve short hours before Wes was to leave for Fort Benning to catch a plane to fly into theatre, we received word that his orders for Afghanistan had been pulled. The story we got was command exceeded the cap for agents in theatre and troop movement (for agents anyway) was put on hold until January. I was the first to receive the news, and I think that I came just inches from jumping up and down and kissing Wes's commander. Instead, I calmly asked him, "Are you kidding me?"

At this juncture, it appears we have avoided another deployment - this makes the third in about a year's time. We won't hold our breath, though, because the next deployment list will be issued next month. Will we be lucky yet again?

Living in the Country, Visiting the BIg CIty

Oh, Target! How I have missed thee! Your bright flourescent lighting. Your red and white aisle markers. Your dollar aisle. I was happy today to swipe my card at your store. If you were just closer than a 47 minute drive, my life in Georgia would be complete - well, almost complete. Somewhere in the mix I need to add employment, church membership, and the eradication of pawn shops on every corner of my current home of record. Then my life would be complete.

We drove to Savannah today to meet with some friends of ours from Virginia. It has been on our calendar for three weeks, and I was giddy with anticipation awaiting the day we got to drive to the city. In case you are wondering, it met my every expectation. While there, we made our rounds to the book store, Target, a mall, and Home Depot. In other words, civilization. The boys had already forgotten that you can buy anything at Target. Thankfully, I did, too, and totally bypassed the carts upon entering the store. Otherwise, I would have purchased it all.

Despite the looks of sympathy I receive when I tell others where we live, Hinesville isn't all that bad; there are a few bright spots. For my own sanity let me make a quick list.
- We can drive to St Simon's Island in 56 minutes. I tried to persuade Wes that the commute from the island would be much like, maybe less, of a drive than what he had in DC, but he didn't go for it. Living on St Simons would be a total dream for me. TOTAL DREAM!
- We can swim every day because you never have to doubt that the temp might fall below 94 degrees. As a result, we have some awesome tans, and we can all swim a pretty mean breast stroke.
- Maria, Patrick, and Parker are willing to play with us when we are bored. We met them the first week we were here, and we all hit it off instantly. Friends like this are hard to find.
- National parks, state parks, and more parks. The heat and bugs don't keep us away -except for this week when the temp hovered at 110 and I felt certain the boys would melt into the cannons at Fort Jackson!
- Our house. I like it more and more every day. I will love it once our backyard doesn't resemble The Outer Banks.

Small town living isn't that bad, and when I am experiencing the withdrawls associated with the shortage of conveniences of city living, we can make the short drive to the wonderful city of Savannah. In just a few weeks soccer will have us there every weekend, and I will probably long for a weekend in our small lazy town.

First Impressions

This morning marked my fourth day awaking in the new house. I have spent three solid days in the house unpacking, organizing, cleaning, and decorating so my impressions of Georgia are limited to what I have experienced within my cul-de-sac.

First, we have been invited to church by two people. Both, as different as night and day, invited us to attend the same church. Nothing says welcome to small-town in the South like an invite to church.

Every house on the street has kids. Our kids are the only ones outside - even when it is 95 degrees. The boys say it's hot. We say you won't know hot until you attend soccer camp next week for three hours a day in the blazing sun. Now, go outside and acclimate.

There might be 75 houses in the neighborhood, but we are living in the country. Not just a neighborhood with a few trees, but the COUNTRY. We go to sleep with the sound of frogs croaking and crickets chirping. Keagan asked the first night we arrived, "WHAT IS THAT SOUND?" Animals, Baby, Animals. Thank God it wasn't a wild pig we heard. I am still afraid I will awake to one rooting around in the yard just as Tamera warned. We smoked ribs for dinner tonight. Maybe that will keep them at bay.

We aren't "talking like Georgia people" yet because our entire neighborhood is comprised of military families all originating from the mid-west. However, I had to have a translator for the guy who delivered our household goods on Monday. Perhaps that was due to his missing four of his front teeth, but nevertheless, I didn't catch a thing he said.

Flies. Everywhere. Buzzing. More flies. Keagan became so annoyed today that he killed two by just slapping the air. As they fly around our room as I type, we feel like we should awake Mr. Myagi to kill the one currently annoying us.

Tomorrow we venture out to mingle with the locals. I am fairly certain that this trip into town will include a slushie from Sonic during Happy Hour and browsing the aisles of Lowes. That's about all there is to do here, but we are fairly optimistic about it as long as we don't encounter any wild boar.

Home Sweet Home

After our housing fiasco at our current duty station (three houses in five years), I vowed to never rent a house again. If there is one bright side to the Army moving us south, it is cheaper housing, and thus, our ability to purchase our first home.

I was a little worried last month when our realtor sent pictures of the interior, and the kitchen colors didn't match what I had envisioned with the on-line color palette the builder sent. Then it came time to select flooring, and the nice man helping me over the phone claimed, "We don't do concrete floors in this neck of the woods." When I asked to see samples of the standard carpeting and hardwood, our builder said, "M'am, I don't use email and stuff like that to send pictures. I am doin' good to use this phone." That comment didn't sit well with me either. And then there was this fleeting moment when I thought that tractor pulls might be the bright spot in my move to the "woods" where no one uses technology.

However, Wes is in Hinesville this week for the closing, and he assures me that the house is beautiful. It is ready for our arrival, and in ten more days we will be spending our first night in home sweet home number eight. 

The Mayonaise is on the Table

For the past two weeks my life has been consumed with a battle. The battle to prepare the house for our big move. First up on the agenda: remove a heat/water stain on my dining room table.

Last winter I became sick when I placed a hot, right out of the dishwasher dish onto the table and then found it left a round water stain. We bought the table in Germany from an antique dealer right after Evan was born. The German sales lady informed us it was originally owned by a Jewish family that lived in the area and owned a furniture business. In the 40s they left the table behind due to "an unfortunate event", German code for Holocaust. Another family took possession of the table fully expecting to eventually return it to its rightful owner.

But that never happened. True to the unspoken German rule that the Holocaust should never, ever be mentioned in public, much less with a idealistic American couple living on a local military installation, the German lady never explained exactly why.

I was distraught with the stain, but I was even more distraught at the thought of paying someone, big bucks no doubt, to refinish my table. That is when my grandmother suggested mayonaise.

When I came home with an industrial sized bottle of Hellmans, Wes became sick with disgust, but when I explained the situation and the nontraditional use of fat, he was the first to give it a try.

Just prior to sticking all four fingers into the jar for a handful of greasy sandwich spread, I suggested the more appropriate use of a spoon. (I take full credit for that suggestion. Sometimes it hurts to be this smart.) Wes spread it evenly and into a perfect circle, and then let it sit for hours. And I couldn't believe that after several applications, the stain faded.

Forget chicken salad and ham sandwiches. We "bring out the best" in our house on Keagan's morning waffles and with our inexpensive home repairs.

Move over Vern Yip. I believe your job is in jeopardy. The Tooles have a whole new make-over for the traditional sandwich spread.

Living in Virginia

In a month or two we will be headed to Georgia, or we are assuming it will be Georgia. Since Wes's name was placed on yet another list just this week for another job, this one in Europe, I guess our plans could change again. As we prepare for a new environment and a new culture, here is what I have learned while living in Virginia.

1. OBX has nothing to do with BMX. The stickers found on every middle class family's car in NoVA refer to the wonderful beaches of North Carolina and not bikes. When we moved here, I thought the locals had some fascination with competitive biking. Really.

2. Vanity plates - It doesn't matter how hard you try. Some of the plates just can't be deciphered.

3. The Mason Dixon Line is located as far north as the Maryland and Pennsylvania border. There is no reason why people living in NoVA should ever be considered Southeners. Besides their lack of front porches and proper manners, no restaurant north of Richmond, to Wes's dismay, serves sweet tea.

4. You can spend a Saturday at the Springfield mall, or spend a week at my middle school, or drive the side streets of Dale City and see someone who practices the culture and lifestyle of just about any location in the world.

5. LAX is not an airport. Thanks, Kate, for those facebook posts. I, for the longest time, couldn't figure out why you were always headed to a little known airport in LA.

6. I will drive Dallas's 635 during rush hour over 95 in NoVA any day. Traffic and rush hour take on a whole new meaning here.

7. Texas is not the only place with unpredictable weather. Where else can you experience a blizzard in both December and February and then 95 degree temps in late March?

I have to begin to wonder what life will be like in two years as we prepare to leave Georgia. What will I leave there having learned?

I can't even begin to imagine what it might entail, but I am still hoping it won't include anything related to tractors.

John Deere

This last week I spent many afternoons on the phone discussing marble choices, granite colors, and cabinetry details for the house in Georgia. On Saturday I called the marble guy to ask a question or two and although the reception was clear on my end, he had a very difficult time hearing me.

MG (marble guy): Sorry Miss Toole, but I'm at the pool and I just can't hear you that well. Can I call ya on Monday?
Me: No problem

Monday.....

MG: Sorry, Miss Toole, for not being able to talk to ya this weekend.
Me: I hope you had a good time. It is hard to imagine that you are hanging out at the pool when I am wearing three layers to a football game in forty degree weather.
MG: The pool? Oh, no! I wasn't at the pool; I was at the tractor pull down in Jessup. Those tractors can be real loud when they pull those heavy weights up them hills.

I wish I could have seen my own face at that very moment. On second thought, I am glad I didn't because I am certain a look of shock, disgust, and concern was written on every wrinkle.

Oh, heaven help me! I am moving to a county in a state where weekend entertainment includes tractors, mountains of dirt, and ear plugs. I don't know if I will survive the three years.

The No Good, Very Bad Day

If you have kids, then you probably recognize the above title. It is one of my favorite children's books and I have read it countless times to the boys. This month it has taken on special meaning to me because I have been living the no good and very bad MONTH. This has been our month.

1. Orders for Georgia are finalized. Resign from my job. Put contract on house in Georgia.
2. Learn the Army might keep us in DC for another three years.
3. Pull out of contract with house in Georgia.
4. Beg HR to pull my resignation that has already been approved by the school board and get my old job back.
5. Search for a house to buy in Virginia.
6. Find out the Army will not keep us in DC for another three years.
7. Give up search for house in Virginia; search again in Georgia.
8. Begin envisioning the boys in Georgia Bulldogs jerseys. I think it looks promising because both boys can wear red.
9. Get a call this week. Army would like to keep us in Virginia.
10. Listen to Evan cry about having to endure another winter in Virginia.
11. Try to persuade the boys that football can be just as great in Virginia.
12. Get another call. Army will not let us stay in Virginia.

I will have no more. We will listen to no more job offers, unless it is for me in Georgia because I will absolutely, positively move to Georgia. Do you hear me?

That is until the Army changes its mind again.

Years of Friends

Phone calls, emails, texts (one very special text!!!), and facebook messages were all sent my way today to wish me a happy birthday. When my good friend at work asked my age today, I had to do the math.
Again. Really.
Why can't I remember my age? My seven year old can recite all of the family members' ages, but I have to go through the steps of calculating my age like I am reading an elementary school word problem.

My thinking goes something like this: "Now what year is it? 2009? No, no. 2010. Let's see...I was born in what year? Subtract the two and you get...?"

And every year I conclude that I must be wrong because I can't possibly be that old.

Today I was struck with the variety of people who sent me well wishes. The friends I met in Germany, my college roommate, my cousins who I haven't seen in years, previous students now living it up in college, our tagesmutter from Germany, sorority sisters from college, the friends I have met while here in Virginia, co-workers from Ansbach and Beville, my best friends that I have known since pre-school...

I am amazed at where life has taken me and all of the wonderful people I have had the pleasure of knowing. Thanks for the well wishes!

Now I am off to check my math because I am certain that I can't be that close to 40 already!

And the picture doesn't match the blog post. I know this. But with Evan smiling and Keagan looking at the camera, this was a birthday gift in and of itself.

Out With the Old, In With the New

If it isn't the smell of starch and the steam of an iron wafting down the halls. If it isn't the talk of confessions and crime scenes. If it isn't having to share the bed with Wes for four days IN A ROW for the first time in almost five years. If none of these clues were proof that Wes has indeed returned to his old job of criminal investigator, then it is his late afternoon call home to state he has an initial report to complete on a dead body and he won't be home any time soon. My bets were on February for the first phone call. Who would have known it would take only four days? Thanks, CID, for welcoming us back with such heart-warming events. And we have how many more years of this?

For those that don't know, Wes left his job working for the Secretary in mid-November, and after he was called back a couple of days later to take a trip to West Point, he officially left PSU again on December 21. Wes has now returned to his original assignment in the Army...criminal investigator.

And because crime always occurs during regular working hours (this includes no weekends and no holidays), and because I am such a flexible person, this new assignment works really well for me. (Please read the sarcasm in that last statement.) I am wishing for our original assignment in Italy even harder than usual today.

This Life of Ours

Thanks for the calls of concern, the emails, the messages, and just the general questions all of you have had this past week as we have struggled to come to terms with our disappointments. The Army deleted our original orders to Vicenza, Italy for reasons that we wish to not elaborate upon because it makes Wes's blood pressure rise and tears to come to my eyes. After several therapy sessions involving Reece's peanut butter assorted two pound bags of candy (I didn't even know this assortment of fine chocolate even existed until I went to Target last week wishing to buy my way to happiness), I think I have recovered. Wes went to assignments on Thursday, and after profuse apologies and statements like "it is out of our hands" and other statements that went something like "blah, blah, blah" we were promised any duty station of our choice. I feel the conversation went something like this.

Assignments: We are so sorry about this situation. We will be happy to send you anywhere you would like. Name your place.
Wes: Fort Sam Houston, Texas please.
Assignments: Well, any place but there. That locale is at max capacity.
Wes: Okay well you tell me what you have open and we will go from there.
Assignments: How about Fort Drum, NY?
Wes: I can feel the frost bite on my toes already. Next option.
Assignments: Fort Dix, NJ. It is only a couple of hours drive from Philadelphia.
Wes: Philly? I went there once. That was enough for me. Next.
Assignments: Fort Campbell, KY
Wes: Yeah, I really don't think my wife would fit in with the rolling hills of Kentucky.
Assignments: Korea is always open.
Wes: I have been there before. It's a country filled with little people who eat kimchi for every meal.
Assignments: Fort Bliss, Texas is really struggling for agents.
Wes: That's in the middle of the Juarez drug cartel where people are kidnapped and murdered daily. I might as well go to Afghanistan.
Assignments: Fort Hood - they really need some new agents this spring and it's home for you.
Wes: Have you been to Texas? It can take two days to drive from one end to the other. I might as well be in Kansas because it is just as close.
Assignments (By now the humor of the one-liners is weighing heavy on the lady in the cubicle behind the computer screen): I can send you to Vicenza working in a different capacity.
Wes: Okay. This is better. What else?
Assignments: Germany has an opening in Schweinfurt. I can give you Fort Stewart outside of Savannah, or I can send you to Fort Gordon in Augusta, Georgia.

So there you have it. We have some possible answers to the move we will make in six weeks! We still have to make the decision and make it quickly. I feel like another bag of peanut butter cups may be in order.

Ciao,Italy

Two weeks ago Wes had the day off, but he had a meeting to attend at Fort Belvoir. It was supposed to be a quick meeting, so quick that he assumed it wouldn't be worth the drive. However, at the last minute he was convinced that he needed to go. When the boys and I got home from school that afternoon, Wes hadn't returned. I thought nothing of it and we left for Swim Kids. During the half hour drive the car was incredibily quiet. No arguments, no singing, no retelling of events from school, and I was deep in thought. About a half mile from the nursing home where we take swim lessons, I made this random statement. "Boys, I think we need to be open to where God might want to send us instead of asking that God send us where we want to go." I know this statement was meant for me more than anything, and the boys were mystified because instead of thinking of another PCS move Keagan was probably debating the superiority of Batman and Evan was conjuring ways for trapping solar energy to produce electricity (or something similar). What was I talking about? I didn't know really myself except that I felt certain that my desires to move back to Germany might not be a reality. Keagan suggested we think about moving to Texas, and Evan said that he would be okay moving anywhere that didn't have hurricanes. At this point, I felt certain God was preparing me for a move to Fort Polk, Louisiana, which in case you didn't know, is about the worst place you can go if you are in the Army. Just then the cell phone rang. It was Wes. He said the meeting had run late, but what would I think about moving to Italy.

Yeah right, I said. Just four months ago we were planning for Wes to spend a year in Afghanistan. Six months prior to that we had plans to move to Schweinfurt, Germany. Six months prior to that Wes was offered a job with some secret squirrel unit that would have left us here in Virginia for another three years. I no longer believe anything that comes my way from the Army, but that doesn't mean I didn't spend two hours every night reading everything that I could find on the internet about Vicenza, Italy, US Army Africom, and Caserma Enderle. Knowing it would take months to get Wes's application read by command, knowing it would take even longer for the interview process to begin, and knowing it would take even weeks more for the paperwork to be processed, I knew it was all wishful thinking.

On Sunday Wes came home with the news. He got the job and he reports on 06 JAN!!! I have never seen the Army work so fast. In two weeks they have accomplished work that usually takes months. I was so excited to hear that news that I jumped up and down and screamed for at least five minutes.

Ciao, Vicenza, Italy! The Toole family will be there soon enough and you will never be the same again.

Living in the Unknown

For two weeks our lives have been in limbo. We have been awaiting word concerning Wes's possible one year deployment to Afghanistan. Today we learned that he is not leaving in the next 10-15 days; someone else is going instead. Now we assume that our lives will return to normal, but what is normal? Every six months our future seems to be in jeopardy of a major change. As soon as we adjust to the change and find some sense of normalcy, we face yet another change. If we aren't looking for a new house, changing jobs, or looking to move out of the country, then I guess we wouldn't know how to live. Change has now become our constant. So let's see: what's next on the agenda for this little thing called life? The anticipation is too much...

We Must Have a Plan

As you all know Wes's job requires him to prepare for the worst. He must always have a contingency plan should events not go as planned. This evening he called and requested that I do the following:
1) Fill the car with gas
2) Pack a bag with essential clothing items
3) Pack a day's supply of food/water.
He assured me that there is no reason for me to worry; he thinks it would be wise of me considering tomorrow's events and our proximity to the city. So how should I respond to such a request made of me at 2030?

My first response is, "What does he know that I don't?" His job, for the most part, is a big secret. I rarely have any idea where he is or what he is doing. (For instance, I have no idea where he is tonight or where he will be in the coming days.) Five years ago, this bothered me. Today I rarely think twice about it. We call it life. However, tonight I am wondering what intel he has received, and I think with good reason after tonight's phone call.

My second response is, "Yeah, right. The boys are asleep. There is no way I am waking them up to fill the car with gas. I will take my chances."

My third response is, "How sad! Your job requires you to plan for disaster." I can't imagine always planning for the worst case scenario: death, bombings, snipers, mass evacuations...How depressing!

My decision: I have reasoned that should something occur, I can grab food, clothes, and water within ten minutes. That ten minutes shouldn't put me too far behind in I-95 southbound traffic. However, I will make sure that we are all dressed with teeth brushed before 10:00 tomorrow morning, even though it is a holiday, just in case.

We Aren't Moving

Today's morning announcement by Obama and his selections for cabinet members has made it official. We will be living in Northern Virginia for at least one more year. The key to this phrase is "at least." Who knew in March 2005 that we would still be here four and five years later?

Autumn in Virginia

Every year I am surprised with the brilliancy of the colors of the leaves. Wes took these pics this week when he had a day off.