SJP NYC & Letters from the State Department

Saturday, in all of it's glorious overcastness...found Lynsey & I in her yard. Planting.
She bought the  most amazingly stunning Azalea. Whom we named Eleganza. Partly because of Rupaul, mostly because it is literally the essence of eleganza. Yeah. It's that gorgeous.
So, there we were, two sisters and a shovel, digging up her rocky soil.
We got Eleganza safely in the ground and started digging the hole for her wine cup plant, named Martha.
Michael called, and I sat on the porch to talk to him. As he told me the news about why his buddy Carl called me at 1:30am, my time, looking for my husband, Lyns kept digging the hole for Martha.

(picture it...1:30am...phone rings. Strange number. I answer immediately and in my sleep daze I'm thinking it's Michael. Cell reception here is horrible I say in my "hey! i was asleep" voice "hello?" bad connection..."Hello? hello, honey? Michael? Honey? hello? can you hear me?" Dead connection.
I call back "I just got a call from this number..."
"Yeah...I'm looking for Mike...Michael...This is Carl...His buddy."
I said "Michael's in germany. this is his wife."
Carl says "Germany? How long's he there for?" Clearly Carl was bright eyed and bushy tailed and to his alertness I responded "3 years. I'm drowsy."
He said "3 years! Wow. I guess I forgot about the time difference. I called to tell him about a guy from our old unit."
I said "ok. I'm drowsy. but I'll tell him you called, because...he has a magic jack...and I don't know the number. but when he calls you...it's a washington state number. And...I'm drowsy."
Which, clearly the re-announcement of my drowsiness was part of my I-can't-keep-my-eyes-open-ness.)

So, there I was sitting on the porch listening to the scuttlebutt as to why Carl called me so early in the A.M.
And my sister is cussing. And throwing rocks out of the hole she was digging. Jumping on the shovel, and basically digging to china.
Then she announces with glee and a slant of pride "I DID IT!" She had proceeded to dig a rock...no scratch that...a boulder out of her yard.

After digging, and talking...we went to Ft. Meade. To shop the PX, to check the mail, and to get groceries at the commissary. In. that. order.

We skip out of the PX with our new fragrances in tow....SJP NYC. And it smells Y.U.M. We walk down to the P.O.
As I put my key in the box I say to Lyns "I am not getting my hopes up that there will even be a passport in there."
She said "yeah. don't blame you."
I pull out out some junk mail and a letter marked United States State Department Washington Passport Agency.
My eyes are like saucers. I rip it open. Heart beating faster
I see it's just a letter.
My heart starts to sink.

I unfold it and read the first line:

Dear Mrs. Suman (Since when am I "dear" to them???)
Thank you for your recent passport application. We need your help in order to continue processing your request. (My eyes scanning the letter faster. I started to gasp for breath.)
You will need to provide your permanent street address ( I started to struggle to breath. I don't have a permanent street address. I don't even have a home...but I could use mom's address, but that's in GA and I need this passport to show the no-fee passport angel lady that I have it...and I need it soon...and...)

If we do not receive .....blah blah blah... your application will be denied....blah blah blah...

Although the letter in itself doesn't warrant a sobbing breakdown right in the middle of Ft. Meade Post office. The letter wasn't bad or worded wrong. Or offensive, or even boasting any typos.
But it was the straw that broke the camel's back.
So, right there, in Fort Meade post office... Right by the window that looks out into the parking lot... While SJP NYC still lingered fragrantly on my arm where I'd spritzed a sample on not 20mins before.
While gasping for breath I began to sob.

People came in the post office. And I continued to sob. Some cries you can't stop just to be polite and spare other people from witnessing your moment of weakness. And this was an all-get-out-can't-stop-it-cause-the-dam-done-broke cry.
Lynsey read the letter. She listened as I sobbed. She walked with me out to the car while I sobbed my way to my paint chipped ford, in the drizzle.
I got inside and said
"It's..." gasp "just" gasp "So" gasp "MUCH to put" gasp "on one person." SOB.
I apologized for sobbing 'like an idiot'
I said I was never going to get to Germany. I was releasing all the stress that a had piled onto me since Michael left.
My eyes were puffy. I stopped crying and sobbing and got hold of myself.
I said to Lyns, before going into the commissary "Does it look like I've been crying?"
She said "yeah. A lot. Here...put on some more make up or something."
So i did.
I said "What about now?"
she said "Hmm...try on my glasses.. that may help."
I put them on and looked at her "well?"
"Hmm.." she said looking at me. Her face an open book. Clearly, my break down was still visible to anyone who chose to look at me..
I said "well, let's just go in anyway."
I entertained her with my antics walking in her glasses into the commissary.

Mrs Sandman & Sam Cooke. Just a tale about moving....

April 13th isn't a day that will life in infamy. Which doesn't hurt my feelings even a little. It was the drizzly day that Executive Movers came to the little Suman Apartment in Columbia.
Their arrival time was between 8-10am. I woke up at 6. Just to make sure everything was ready. All the i's were dotted and the t's were crossed...and that all the DO NOT MOVES were in central un-ignorable places.
Which happened to be our cabinet/pantry in the kitchen, and in the bedroom popout window area.

10:30 rolled around and there was a knock on the door. I opened it and there before me were 3 huge strapping men. "You need movin' right?" Clearly the littlest man of the trio was the boss.
I said "Yes." as they introduced themselves to me.
They burst into the apartment with the force of three tornadoes.
They collectively groaned when they saw the mounds of books.
"He don't lie when he say they had tons of books."
I felt almost like apologizing. Then stopped myself. Why should I apologize? We like books. End of story.
I chewed my lip as the littlest man ordered the biggest of the trio to bring up some "Three-oh's"
I'm not in the know when it comes to moving lingo.

When the big guy came up with the three-ohs that's when the mad dash packing race began. I said "I think...I'll just put the cats...uhm...in the other room for now."
Joe, the biggest of the three, and a cat-person said "Ah, now. They wouldn't scratch a fly. They cute little things."
I smiled and said "Yeah, but they get scared..."
So, I closed them into the spare bedroom...after chasing Allie into a corner to pick her up. She detests moving. So, I didn't want to risk her making a great escape.

The little guy took the kitchen, Joe decided to start on DVDS and Harvey took the bedroom. I stayed put in the living room on our "Colorful" sofa (Which Joe decided to call it that.)

I ended up putting the cats in their taxis when the movers kept going into the spare bedroom.
So, there we were, two cats and a red head sitting awkwardly on the edge of the sofa while 3 strange men busked through the apartment.

Joe decided he felt talky. I liked him immediately. He saw my buddha he said "So, oh lawd. You like these things too huh?"
I said "Which things?"
He said "Them fat buddhas. Lawd, my sister, she got a big ol white one. She say to errbody 'dontchu touch my buddha. I say 'i only rubbin that belly for luck.'"
I laughed and said "I think that's the biggest one my husband will tolerate."
He laughed and said "Wheeew"

Joe asked me where I was moving to, I told him to Germany.
He decided to sing "Change Gonna Come" from Sam Cooke to Jessie & Allie. Complete with hand
flourishes, the man was testifying.
Harvey was busy packing up my unmentionables, and truly, I didn't even think about it until after the fact.
Joe eyeballed Jezebel, my prized houseplant. He said "Mrs. Sandman?"
I said "Yeesss?" (Who could resist????)
He said "Whatchoo gone do with this flower?"
I said "Oh. her? My sister wants her....so...I guess she'll have a new home."
He said "oh. Yeah. I see."

I told the head honcho that lunch was on me, and asked what they liked on their pizzas. Pizza=cheap and more bang for the buck...
He informed me that they didn't like pizza. They'd had it so often. It was just boring to them. I thought...oh crap. They packed up the phone book. I don't know what else delivers. And I couldn't help but think...who gets choosey when it comes to free lunch?
Thankfully, my darling husband rushed in to save the day...all the way from Bamberg.

He called. I said "they...uhm...don't want pizza. they have it...uhm....too much."
He said "What? Uhm...okaaay."
I said "Yeah..." Trying to maintain my nice tone.
He said "What about...oh...uhm...what about Chinese? Do they want chinese?"
Head Honcho said "UH HUH! Yes!" to chinese. Even placing his order for "General Toe-Sew's Chicken. Wit Rice."
Harvey said he'd go for some chicken wings and rice.
Joe said "No. I don't eat chinese. They all the time eatin cat. but if they had chicken wings, I be ok with that. As long as they threw in rice."
My husband called and placed the order, and soon, chinese was en route to the suman abode.

About 5mins before our lunches came, so did two other movers. Actually, they were packers. Two ladies. Bettylyn who announced to the men that her husband was out of town. She was elderly and this cracked me up.
The other was a lady around my age, who I liked. She was chatty.
I told them lunch was en route, but I'd be happy to order some chinese for them, too. Bettylyn said she'd like an order of General Tee-Sews chicken. While the lady around my age wished for an order of peppersteak and rice.
She said "So, what will you do with your plant here?" Apparently Jezebel puts a spell on all who gaze into her hugeness.
I didn't have time to answer. Joe called from the dining room "No. Her sister been cryin' for it."

Which made me smile thinking of Lyns with a kleenex in her hand sobbing and begging me to give Jezebel to her.

Lunch arrived, and the delivery guy says "You move in?"
I said "No. Moving out."
He said "Ah. To where you move?"
I said "Germany."
He said "oooh Germany. You move to capitol city?"
I said "no...uhm...bamberg."
He said "That near capitol city?"
I said "No."
I also told him I'd see him in a few minutes, because more orders were placed. He bowed and said "See you soon, Ms. Lady."

When he returned bearing the Pepper steak, and general Tee-Sews chicken, he said "My sister she go to Germany."
I said "Oh! really? Did she like it?"
he nodded over-the-toply "Yes. Like it berry much"
I tipped him...again. He bowed and said "Tank you ms. lady have good aaaaventures in germany."

I told Joe to make sure he got some Egg Rolls, since there were over 12 of them on the counter.
He said "No thank ya Ms. San-mun. I don't be eatin them. You never know if they gone have some cat in them."

The movers stayed until 6:15pm. they left only the do not moves in the bedroom.
The headhoncho took cokes for the road, and all the left over egg rolls.
Joe, Harvey and the ladies also helped themselves to more soda and some bottled waters.

My voice echoed in the now empty apartment as I told Jessie & Allie they were free to explore our furinture-less apartment.
I went to the PX for a pillow and a blanket...

When I got home, I opened the DO NOT MOVE cabinet pantry door to help myself to a treat. Only to discover, that Head Honcho had indeed packed up our food. To include...my opened loaf of Whole Wheat Bread. Some Opened boxes of Life Cereal & Oatmeal Squares Cereal, some Egg noodles and various other foodies....

I grimaced imagining how furry that food will look when I see it again.....

Grumpy. Antsy. Restless. Sulky.

It's been a beautiful day. It's a lovely evening. yeah yeah yeah.
I've done laundry all day long. Literally. All. Day. Long.
Getting crap ready for the movers to come to pack up all our stuff, and put it in a magical place referred to as "Storage, Pending Overseas." Where ever that may be. It could be far away in some storage unit. It could be close by. Getting re-infested with Stink bugs, like our stuff did in Public storage. It doesn't really matter, because it will be nowhere near me.

The EFMP lady sat around for a week and didn't get in touch with me about my bloodwork results and all the other needle torture they are going to put me through.
I know I'm going to have to have a lot of vaccines. They don't even have to tell me. I just can already guess that one.
They will probably invent some other weird vaccine that I will have to get...but I'll have to wait for development and research to approve it.
So, While I'm busy doing all this waiting...the movers are coming.
To take all my stuff away.
My blankets. My pillows. Our ugly sofa. Our stuff.
All the while I am still waiting.

I can't apply for a NoFee/Official passport until I am put on Mike's Orders. I can't be put on his Orders until the 5888 form is signed. That won't be signed until I have all the ridiculous amounts of needles poked into my body, and I can't get any shots until the EFMP woman makes an appointment for it, and she won't make an appointment until someone looks at my bloodwork. And I have no place to live. Lovely.

AND, guess what? they aren't even giving us seperation pay. Why? because I'm not on the orders. And I can't be on the orders until....well, you get the picture.

It's like I've been drop kicked into a Keystone Kops film. While the EFMP lady takes smoke breaks, It's-a-pretty-day breaks, personal days, pops some popcorn, and scratches her ear and looks at her finger, I am waiting. And waiting. AND WAITING. AND WAAAAAAAAAAAAITING.

We paid $165 for a tourist passport. But what good is that? I can't afford to buy a ticket to Germany. AND if I did, I could only go for a visit. And Honestly, there's nothing in Germany that I want to pay to see, except for Michael. And should I really HAVE to pay to see my husband?

I don't know if this is some kind of pyschological test/ practical joke that the army is playing on me. I don't know if they are just wanting me to throw up my hands and say "Ok. OKAY. You win. You don't have to get me to my husband. I'll just go back to Georgia and live my newly married life seperated. Kthanksbye."  I honestly do not know what the deal is, but I do know, I've not met anyone who has gone through this.

I'm just so frustrated. I have no more patience. None.
  In february, I was so sure I'd be with Michael in March. In March I was SO sure it would be April. April is here, and I'm fairly certain I won't be there until end of June, if ever.
And it's making me hate Germany.

There. I said it.

I feel stuck. Stuck here, but kicked out of my home. So, now, not only did the Army take my husband away, they are taking my stuff away, too. Except for what I can cram into two suitcases.
And one of the suitcases will be crammed full of my underwear, because gross. I don't want some sausage link fingers stinky man fondling my underwear while packing it up.

I'm frustrated. My darling little Padgett Temper is brewing. I've kept it from bubbling up for as long as possible.
AND to top it off, I did a search of how long this EFMP process takes. The answer I got was it varies from person to person family to family. Fair enough.
But then I read of a Filipino woman who married a military man, and was joining him in Korea from the Philippines, and it only took her 2 weeks.
It made me SEETH.
2 weeks? she's not even American!!!!! and I'm on what? 2 months. Nice.

Just call me a Trypanophobic.

I had joy. Sheer joy when the EFMP coordinator told me that she had indeedy put in an appointment for me to get bloodwork at the Lab.
And this is huge considering, I hate needles. I will avoid needles at all costs.
Except...when it comes to going to be with my husband.
If you're holding my husband from me...and the ransom is me getting blood drawn...well, then I will let you poke me with a needle...but not without a panic attack. And it's embarrassing. I hate it about me. I feel so absurd.

So, my blood letting day... it started like this...
I wake up to a sunshiney day. Good Friday.
I take a long shower to prolong the needling.
I finally go to Fort Meade. And I see a line of cars. As in...the main gate is backed up. I think...What the...it's a sign..I shouldn't Go. And PS...what is up with this line?
Turns out...People need a DOD sticker now-a-days to get on post.

I continue on my way to the lab..thinking "it's good friday..I'm getting nervous for nothin' cause they are going to be closed and I won't have to do this." Even the parking lot kind of (KIND OF) encouraged my denial...it was empty enough that I got a parking spot CLOSE to the front door. Which nearly never happens at Kimbrough.
I walk in so smug. Almost smiling.  So confident that there wouldn't be a needle...but also kinda scared...what if there's NO needle...then I will still be no closer to my husband...Either way...lose-lose.

Except...the pharmacy had waiters. Waiting on their numbers to be called for their medicine. Doubts started to creep in when I heard that they were now serving B620. Probably the lab was open.

My palms started to sweat. I started to feel that the best option when it comes to fight or flight would be flight...to somewhere else...somewhere fantastical. Or somewhere non fantastical....just somewhere away from the Lab.
Which I'm sure "The Lab" is one of the 9 circles of Hell in Dante's Inferno. After all, it seems like no coincidence that the poem starts the day before Good Friday...and this already IS Good Friday...

I find myself standing at the door. Hand on the Handle. Turning it and half hoping that it's locked. Closed for Spring break, and all those wacky Phlebotomists are going wild at a needle convention raising their shirts for a box of syringes.
My image was destroyed as the door opened to a waiting room...where a man argued with the lady at the desk that his wife was his dependent...so he should have rights to hear about her blood tests for her "cholesterol thing."
She said "I can't tell you. It would break HIPAA law."
He put his hand on his hip, and chewed the air and said again "She's my dependent."
Finally he left in a huff.
And I took a number into my sweaty palm. Sat in a chair and thought....Just don't look at that Old Korean Lady staring at me....Pretend you dont' see her staring.

My number was called. F761.
The lady at the desk took my humid number and put it in the number holder.
I said "look. I hate this. I'm nervous. I passout. You need to know this. I definitely passout."
She goes "Girl, don' go passin' out on my watch. We take care of you. You ain't passin' out I promise. I got ways."
I smiled weakly.
A 50 something woman pipped up from the waiting area "Yeah. Don't worry, it's No big deal."
And sidenote..but that REALLY ticks me off. No, it's not a big deal....TO YOU. But to me, Yes. It is.

So, the lady at the desk tells me to take a seat around to the right, and she will be right in to take care of me.

I walk into the room, expecting...well, not this scene.
This 'scene' is litereally just a circle of chairs. In one room. Blood drawing is NOT a private thing at Ft. Meade.
Nay, drawing blood is a group effort. All we needed was a camp fire and wow. it'd be a day at summer camp.
I sit in the big green torture chair (I'm sorry but any chair that an arm folds over the front of you, is a torture device of Medieval caliber.)
I try to look at nothing. But I see blood tubes riding on the blood tube carnival ride. I look away... To the box of syringes that someone won at spring break 09.
I decided it was best to look at the stitching on the chair.

The girl came in and said "Ok. Girl. You ready, or do I do her first?" And pointed to the woman across from me.
I said "Her. I'll go last."

That was when there was an influx of people. All happy and giddy taking their seats. Like it WAS a joy ride.

My turn was up.  My lab tech says "Ok. Mrs. Soozman? Sue-Man? Seaman?"
I smiled weakly and said "Su-man. And I'm going to close my eyes now, so I don't see anything."
She said "Girl, no. Don't close them eyes. No reason to. I need you keep 'em open up ok? Cause all I'm gon' do is...."
but I cut her off and said "It's ok. please don't walk me through it."
She laughed and said "Ok." as I heard the pop of the arm wrapper thing-a-ma-bob or the needle popping into place or something...I felt my head start to swim
Ms. Lab tech said "OH Girl...ok make a fist, make it pump up, girl. What yer husband name is?"
I said "Michael."
She said "Ooh Micheal. Stop pumpin' you fist honey. He cute?"
I said "Ouch. yes. Uhm...very. I miss him. REALLY bad."
She said "You miss Michael? Why you miss Michael?"
I said "Because he's..."
She said "Ok...Mrs. Suman...open your eyes. Where he at?"
I said "Germany."
She said "you got kids?"
I shook my head no then muttered it weakly.
She said "You gone have kids?"
I said "Hope so."
She said "how many kids you want?"
I said "I.. don't care."
She said "How ever many God blesst you with?"
I nodded.
She said "How many you hope He blesst you with? 2? 3? Keep yo eyes open. Ok?"
I open them and see the little old Korean Lady staring at me like I'm a show that she got front rows at, by winning them from a call-in radio show. She was literally 2 inches from me. She started at me expressionlessly. In anticipation.
I said "yeah. sure. 2. that is a good number."
She said "Ok, honey you hold this to your arm ok. Keep you from bleetin on your shirt ok?"
I said "I need to lay my head down now. please. Because I can't...."
Everything in the room started going grey. The Lab lady shoved a yellow lollipop in my mouth. She said "Hold that. Taste it. Ok. What flavor is it?"
I heard the 50 something woman say with an air of snotty "If I ACT like I'm Nervous, will I get a lollipop?" She sounded so far away.
The sweet sweet Lab lady said "Firs of all, this ain't no ACK. We gets people like this all day. That's why we got the lollipops here. An' no. you wouldn't."
I was covered in cold sweat and freezing.
Lab Lady brought me in cold towels and told me to hold them on my neck. I said "I'm... ok. I think I can leave."
She said "Girl, no uh-uh. No way. You ain't leavin' until you ain't white as a ghost. When the color come back to your face, you can leave. Not until then."
A lady who just came in said to me "Did you pass out?"
The lab lady said "No. She did not."
the 50something said to me "I wish I could've seen you when I had my hysterectomy."
I wanted to say "Yeah, well YOU wouldn't have seen me when you had your hysterectomy, because YOU were probably asleep, punk."
But, nay. I did not. Instead, I sipped the ice cold  pepsi  that was put in front of me..and felt like a moron.

Now I just wait to see what vaccines I need, and what other needle torture these sadists want to bestow onto me to keep me longer from Michael....