SkyWaitress.com

I have quite a few of those. Before you think I’m bragging remember when I was stuck in The Netherlands? And then I ended up getting home via Brussels? Yeah, that added a whole lot of stamps. The rest are mostly from Germany because they’re very picky about knowing exactly when you entered and left the country.

One time, as a working crew member, they apparently didn’t stamp my passport. I found this out as I was trying to leave because the customs officer starting yelling at me about the fact that I didn’t have one. I wasn’t aware I was responsible for supervising German immigration. ::eye roll:: Thankfully he let me leave since I was standing there with a crew badge in uniform. And I said I’d only been there for 24 hours. Likely a liar would say slightly longer. I assume. I’ve never lied to immigration. Really.

Since, in my first six months of working, I was assigned trips to Frankfurt no less than 9 times you can imagine how boring it is to look through my passport. A whole lot of AMS and FRA, a French and Chinese visa and a few US stamps just for good measure. This has left me with very few pages left. Thankfully I have just enough room for my Indian visa which I will be applying for next Wednesday.

Yep, you read that right. I’m 90% sure this trip is actually going to happen. I’m in shock and shaking from excitement at the same time. Despite the fact that I’ve been hoping and praying to go on this trip since I was 12 years old I still feel completely unprepared. That probably has a lot to do with the fact that we didn’t raise enough money to buy tickets from the US to India. We’re going to have to fly standby to Europe and fly out of there.

Considering my last standby experience to Europe that kind of scares the crap out of me.

The cheapest tickets we found were out of Frankfurt which as I mentioned earlier is a city I’m quite familiar with. The only concern I have is I realized it’s right smack in the middle of Oktoberfest. Now, Oktoberfest happens in Munich but it still worries me that we might not be able to make it.

Our next option is Amsterdam which should be a breeze to get in and out of. The only problem is it’s going to cost like $700 more. ::sigh::

We have to decide soon but we need to get visas before we buy non-refundable plane tickets because the last thing we want is to be denied visas and just throw money away.

And now you can see where I’m stressed.

Not to mention I have barely any room in my US passport.

There’s plenty of room in my Swiss passport but something about the fact that I live in the States means I can’t use it. Lame.

We thought we could get extra pages put in but it turns out it costs almost as much to do that as to get a new passport. Super lame!

But we’re going.

I think.

I want this so bad it makes my heart ache. I wish we had raised enough to buy our plane tickets all the way from ORD but I guess that makes it even more about faith.

All I know is I’ve already heard about the children we’re going down there to help. And it makes me want to cry thinking about them. I can’t wait to play with them and read them stories and make their home a better place.

We’ve already sent money down to the home ahead of us. Today I found out what they’re using it for.

Toilets.

They’re putting in toilets so that they’ll have them when we arrive.

I told Joel I don’t need a toilet! I’ve used a squatty-potty before and we’re going to be in the middle of the jungle, I honestly didn’t expect anything other than a hole. Joel said it was already part of the improvement plans so I don’t feel guilty.

Imagine being exited about getting a toilet.

I can’t tell you how badly I hope to make it there. They are anticipating our arrival already and I know they will be very disappointed if we can’t make it for some reason. This is one of my biggest life dreams and it just seems unreal that it may actually happen.

Please send good vibes as we apply for visas and finally purchase plane tickets.

I’m so nervous but I’m starting to think we’re actually going to make it.

As always you can find out more about our trip at our HelpSend.Us site.

When Joel and I were teenagers and just friends we discussed our dating lives with each other from time to time as, I assume, all friends tend to do. One girl Joel used to talk about was a barista at a coffee shop near where he worked. She was pretty cute and he went in to get coffee from her all the time. He’s adorable and was too shy to ever do more than smile at her.

He talked about her a lot though and how great the coffee she made was. I encouraged him to ask her out or, ya know, say anything to her besides his coffee order. He never did.

Now I’m glad, for obvious reasons.

Not that I think he would have ended up with her, since we’re a perfect fit and all. But you never know.

Moving on.

She quit or moved away or something because he eventually stopped seeing her. He shortly stopped frequenting that coffee house. It’s not open anymore. I’m not saying it’s related but….

Because of that girl I always make sure to wear my ring to work. Men aren’t terribly observant creatures but if they get any ideas and think to check my left hand they won’t be confused. Unless they’re the kind who view that as a challenge. But then blech.

Anyway, where I work there several people who regularly come into the store already. Two guys I see every day that I work. I assume they come in when I’m not there too. But how would I know? They’re fairly quiet and don’t seem flirty at all. I do try to be friendly and make conversation if they seem open to it as I do with all the customers who come into the store. Mostly they just sit with their faces in their laptops and work.

Yesterday I had the day off (which was fabulous) and then today, when one of the regulars came in, I asked him if he wanted his usual. He said he did and then he told me,

“Someone else made my drink yesterday. It just wasn’t the same.”

Um, aw! Complimenting me on my coffee skills gives me serious happies.

I made the guy his drink and he resumed his normal routine of quietly working. I went back to working while trying not to let my smile break my face. I get all silly and giddy when it comes to compliments. His was the second I’ve gotten.

The first was the other day when a girl tasted her latte that I made and said it was the best she’d ever had in her life. I can’t take full credit because the coffee we serve is incredible all on it’s own. But the fact that it was the best of her life must mean something. (And don’t say it’s that she rarely drinks coffee. Shut up.)

The dude saying his drink wasn’t the same unless I make it made me remember Joel’s coffee crush. Not that I assume those guys have crushes on me. She probably didn’t assume that either. I just think it’s fun to have regulars. It’s fun to know what someone’s drink is before they order it. And it’s by far the most fun to be told I make awesome espresso.

Now I’m a coffee girl and this one? Is a huge sucker for compliments.

It’s funny how when I’m happy I feel the need to apologize for it. I am so freaking happy. And you know what? I’m not sorry about that.

Not even a little.

But still I feel like I can’t talk about it. Not on my blog anyway. Because that would be like bragging, wouldn’t it?

The thing is, it’s so different from how I was feeling a month ago. A month ago I was seriously starting to wonder if I needed help of the men in white coats sort.

Or at least the kind that comes with happy pills and couches.

It isn’t normal to feel such deep sadness that you cry for days.

For no reason at all.

It makes me feel almost dizzy just thinking about it. It was awful.

The scary thing is, I never figured out why I was so unhappy. All I know is that I’m happy now.

I have a feeling my happiness has a lot to do with the fact that I’m working again. As “nice” as it is to lounge around all day everyday chatting on Twitter and watching my shows I felt useless and lazy. I hate feeling lazy. I consider laziness my biggest flaw.

Now, almost every day I shower, get dressed, smile and interact with humans. My clothes are fitting better even though the number on the scale hasn’t gone down. When I do spend time lazing around the house it’s a treat. There’s still a little guilt but it’s justifiable.

There’s a small undercurrent of unease that follows me around. Like a dark trickle under the surface that threatens to burst at any moment and become the next gulf spill of sadness.

I don’t ever want to go back to the dark place I was in. I also don’t want my happiness to depend on work or other outside factors that I can’t really control. I want my happiness to come from inside of me. That’s a much more elusive kind of happiness.

The good news is, unless I think about really hard I can’t tell the difference between that kind of happy and the kind I am now. I’m content to take the kind of happiness I can get for now though.

Even if there’s a chance it could disappear, it sure is wonderful while it lasts.

Updated:

I love all the caption ideas you all left in the comments. Quite clever. I’m still no closer to understanding an actual reason for this ridiculous parking job but at least I got a couple good chuckles out of the deal. Thank you all for playing, I hope it was as fun for you as it was for me.

The caption I chose made me laugh. Loudly. Whoever Andrew is, he knows his audience.

“My wife just landed 45 minutes ago when I was still watching the game”

I seriously need to know what kind of roofing emergency there could have been to warrant this horrendous parking job.

Hazards on and all.

I mean, I want to hope that something was seriously leaking. Although considering the utter lack of rain (notice the beautiful blue skies) I kind of doubt it.

It’s not a swanky car so I doubt he was worried about door nicks. Not to mention the 20 other open parking spaces.

So why? Why would anyone park like this ever? Is it really that hard to pull in at least kinda sorta straight?

I’m thinking this needs to be a caption contest actually. Mostly because I neeeed to know a possible reason for the insanity!

I’ll change the title to the best caption and credit the winner in a post update.

Ready? Go!