I Must Be Normal Long Enough to Make New Friends

Scene:  smallish house in western rural Ohio.
Time:  Thanksgiving week
Cast:  Seven adults, four kids, two dogs, one cat; plus miscellaneous adults and children wandering in and out throughout the week


In the midst of the insanity that we affectionately call Thanksgiving, my niece-in-law, Susan (don't know how else to accurately identify her: she is the wife of my husband's nephew, but we are nearly the same age.  OK, she's a few years younger), and I had stimulating conversations about Chex Mix, yams, washing dishes, homeschooling and families, sprinkled with keen insights about "normal."

Me & three Ohio niece-in-laws at Thanksgiving

I had the uncomfortable revelation that I would have to "act normal" to make new friends in Edinburgh.  Upon sharing this thought with Susan, we discussed what normal looked like, and how some people make normal look easy.


One of the other niece-in-laws admitted to passing herself off as much more normal than she perceives herself.  She tends to note make the loud, stream-of-consciousness comments to which I am prone.  Maybe at 42 I could learn to speak with an inside voice and not say everything that I think?  Hmmm, now there's an idea.


Perhaps normal is less frequently normal than we think?  Making new friends as an adult is a delicate dance that involves finding common ground, feeling comfortable with the other person and regular interaction or frequent proximity.  However, the elements of this dance can be sidetracked when one of the parties is perceived as deviating from the comfortable or acceptable norm -- oddities that may be explained away,  ignored or even embraced in an established friendship.  


I'm thinking this sounds like dating vs. marriage.  After 11 years here in Marietta, I'm married to my friends -- guess it's time to start dating again.

How to Induce Stroke Symptoms in Average Middle-Aged White Women

1) Take a time-release Ambien @ 11:30 p.m. after grandparental units have arrived here from the holiday-crazed airport. (Thank you, darling, for retrieving them.)

2) Go to sleep, soundly & deeply

3) @ 3:30 a.m. be awakened quietly by stealthy six-year-old who is crouched down on your side of the bed, so not to disturb the sleeping Father-Giant on the other side of the bed.

4) Roll out of bed, sway violently.  Try not to fall over back into bed or knock over said six year old.

5) Sway into the bathroom, try land on seat with first attempt.  Figure out how to get arms to work together to get toilet paper off roll and to the right place.

6) Stagger across hall in to child's bedroom, avoiding various toys on floor.

7) Cover, kiss and cuddle the child, keeping talking to a minimum so she won't think her mother's stone drunk in the middle of the night.  Try to make arms work in coordinator to hug her and use the door knob.

7) Weave back to own side of the bed.  Sleep heavily until morning.

Bennet MacWehmeyer

This afternoon I'm thinking about how much I'm going to miss our crazy dog, Bennet.  He joined our family four years ago, when he and Janie were both about two years old.   He's not perfect, (Daryl likes to say he runs like a felon when he sees daylight without a leash) but he's a sweetie & the girls adore him.  

Grammie & Pa will keep him in Virginia.  Every retired Grandpa needs a dog to hang out with.

Get on the Plane, Woman

Tonight Daryl wanted to review the January & February calendar and set our proposed packing and departure dates.  Daryl made several suggestions involving various dates in February.  I make agreeable murmuring responses, but not really answering, chattering away about various little packing/moving details.


Finally, he says, mildly frustrated, "You're not going to answer me, are you?" 


 He took charge, set some dates and said, "How will that work?"  


"That's perfect honey, I just needed you to tell me when to go .... kind of a 'Pack your bags and get on the plane, woman,' bit of bossing me around."   And of course, I'm crying as I say it.  If life goes according to plan (it always does, right?), we'll be on the ground in Edinburgh en famille by February 25.


Then I began updating my Google calendar, pulling up recurring events one at a time, clicking delete "all following" to piano lessons, teaching Sunday School, Bible Study Fellowship, math homework group, math lab,  Wednesday evening church schedule, etc.   My calendar looks naked and lonely.  I hope I won't be either in Edinburgh.

Decisions, Decisions

We have lived in the Atlanta, Georgia area for 11 years.  We have been members of the same church and neighborhood swim tennis for over 10 years. Our girls have attended the same school since 2003.  I'm the swim team coordinator.  We teach 1st grade Sunday School.  We've even lived in the same house for 11 years.  We love, love, love our neighbors.   But the opportunity for an international assignment with hubby's company -- in an English-speaking country -- was too great to pass up.


It took about four weeks to reach our decision, but in retrospect I can see that we both wanted this from the beginning.  We could've/should've prayed more about it together, but I do know I that this topic was foremost in all my prayers throughout the day.  The request for leading took many forms: asking God to rubber-stamp our desire for this move, asking for things to fall apart if we weren't supposed to go, asking Him to tell us no even if things didn't fall apart, asking for confirmation.


In late October, we enjoyed a cruise in Hawaii with dear friends.  I'm sure they thought we talked about nothing else!  It felt like we thought about nearly nothing else, but by the middle of the week, we were ready to say yes, and by the end of that week we received some corporate news that helped confirm we were making the right decision for our family.  Thank you, Father, for that blessing.

We came home and told the family.  Because we had not discussed the possible move with our girls, 12 & 6, they were stunned and we had some heavy tears from the six year old.  In retrospect, that night eating dinner outside on the deck, feels like the beginning of this adventure.

This is a beautiful video, opening scenes shot at Edinburgh Castle, overlooking the city.  

Thanks to Staci W. for finding it and being excited for us.

How Do You Feel About Edinburgh?

Our journey begins, not with a single step, but with a single phone call.  I was buried in a book on the back yard deck, enjoying the last quiet moments of a glorious Friday fall afternoon -- the Atlanta summer heat had finally broken -- when I answered the call from hubby: maybe he's coming home early?


"Just got off a call .... I'm being offered a job in Edinburgh."  Hmmm, it had only been two months since we had made peace with the decision NOT to accept a job offer in the London area.


Edinburgh?  I made the call to my one source for all things Scottish:  a co-worker from years ago, a dear friend in Virginia, Norma M.  She has lived in the States for 50 years, but I remembered that she visited frequently and had maintained lifelong friendships in Scotland.  Besides, I hadn't spoken with her in years; it would be lovely to catch up.  

True confession time:  I telephoned Norma before calling my mother, my father, dear friends or siblings.  I needed to know:  could we live in Edinburgh as a family?  Norma's encouraging reaction was "Wonderful!  I would take Edinburgh over London ten times over!"  I promised to keep her updated as to our decision and she promised to forward contact information for friends in Scotland and to help me with pronunciations .... yes, it's English, but I've lived in the South for 11 years!  Can I add "honey" or "y'all" to everything?


And so it began.

I'm Going to Need a Blog Title

Of course, in the midst of the truly important decisions -- when to move, where to send the girls to school, what to pack/ship, what to do with the house here, finding a home over there --- I decided to invest all my time in getting a blog going.  And I have so much spare time and left-over active, useful brain function to devote to this.  Somehow the rest of it will get done, but this is truly important ....


Thanks to the friends and family who for weeks listened to me dither, in person and on facebook, about a blog title.  Another niece-in-law, Suzanne, was a great resource -- the proposed titles kept us laughing at Thanksgiving. 


I scoured websites for Scottish poetry, city names, quotes and constantly bounced ideas off my circle of trusted advisors.  Maybe not so trusted:  they all liked "Tarty McWehmeyer."  Yes, I want to be confused with a Scottish escort service.   The title I settled on is the last line of Robert Burns' "Address to a Haggis."  


Daughter C suggested "Haggitha" which was in the close running, as was "The Tartan Season," "The Other Kate,"  "Real Housewives of Edinburgh" and "That Should Do It"  (hubby has been talking like Groundskeeper Willie from The Simpsons since this all started.)


To those of you who encouraged this self-absorption:  now you've done it.  I've simply been waiting for a reason to share the inner workings of my hamster-on-a-wheel brain.  Any resemblance to real persons or real events in this blog is entirely intentional.  Please don't sue me, but feel free to talk about me in my absence at extended family events, at the pool, in school or church, or neighborhood events.