Yo’ Mama and the CIA

I told Sheepdog back at the very end of February that I was bored.  Bored of using my mad Tetris skills to load the dishwasher, bored with devising creative punishments for kids who do stupid things, bored by folding laundry (yes, even fitted sheets).  Bored of driving all around this overpopulated suburban utopia.  Bored by Netflix (gasp!).  Bored with writing, even.  Bored, bored, bored.  Just bored.  Pffft.

This is boring.  I'm bored now.

Sheepdog, being a manly man, went into problem solver mode and sent me away.  In March he put me on a plane to Key West and attempted to curtail my ennui with balmy weather, college roommates, and cocktails.  I had a good time.  I don’t do things half-assed, so Nate the Great and the Boring Beach Bag (that’s me being bored with reading children’s literature) just kept keeping on.  I came back from my long weekend happy, hungover, tired, and sick, … but still bored.

Screen Shot 2015-05-08 at 5.27.15 PM

Speaking of beach bags, I even tried shaking things up with an impromptu break in spring by taking a (partial) family trip.  Kids C, D, E, and I road tripped on down to the white sand paradise of Cape San Blas, where we roasted s’mores, dug holes to China with the cousins, and avoided sharks.  A great time was had by all (except maybe the shark), but afterwards I was still eh.

I spent April managing schedules, cooking and washing, and – of course – driving.  Why is there so much driving?  I decided to rally and crush my job hand-on-the-plow style.  In the life game of Rock, Paper, Scissors of Behavioral Traits, I supposed that tenacity would beat boredom every time, but it seems I was incorrect.

So by the beginning of May I was bored and wrong.  Even wearing my hair up in a high ponytail wasn’t helping.

And then I got excited.  About the possibility of a short-term, full-time job.

I know, right?  Who AM I right now?

You may be wondering what kind of insanity pool I would even consider dipping my pinky toe into, given that I am currently in the midst of actively raising and parenting five children and running a house while my husband holds down a very demanding and stressful career, complete with out-of-state travel and various coaching/ volunteering jobs.  I assure you, this job would be awesome.  And it would be hard, but we could make it work because it is only for a few weeks.  But I am sworn to secrecy about it and I can not tell you anything else about it while I await a hiring decision.  As I told the kids, “If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.”

Now they all think I’m going to work for the CIA.

Just thinking about the possibility of something different has breathed new life into my soul.  I wasn’t even looking.  It simply presented itself and now I want it more than anything.  Even though I laughed until I almost peed while I updated and edited my resume.  It took a whole lot of Bondo to fill that 14-year hole in my work experience.  What’s another term for “overqualified ass-wiper?”

In the meantime, I am still a SAHM, and this week is the week of all things Mother’s Day.  I had a tea to attend on Monday, where Kid E recited a poem he wrote entitled “I Love You More Than…”  He included lots of homemade food items and our neighborhood water slide, for which I was very grateful, but Minecraft was suspiciously left off the list.  At least I know exactly where I stand with that kid.

Also this week, Kid D came home with a new repertoire of ‘Yo’ Mama’ jokes:

  • Yo’ mama is so stupid, she got locked in a mattress store overnight and she slept on the floor.
  • Yo’ mama is so short, you can see her feet on her driver’s license.
  • Yo’ mama is so ugly,  Bob the Builder looked at her and said “I CAN’T FIX THAT!”
  • Yo’ mama is so dumb, she played ‘Got Your Nose’ with Voldemort.  Then he killed her.

The kids and I roared with laughter as he told each new joke.  The other kids joined in and added their favorites as well.  Then somebody started machine gun farting or something like that, so I put an end to the stand up routines.

That night as I was tucking Kid E into bed, I was feeling nostalgic about him still being little and sweet and I felt the need to explain to him that Yo’ Mama jokes are actually people making fun of moms and he shouldn’t be mean.  And since Kid E is the sweetest kid ever, he said he understood and then he made up his own joke and then he grabbed my face and said, “Yo’ mama is so fast that she wins every race that she runs.  Like that, Mom?”

Exactly like that, kid.  I guess am totally winning, even if I don’t get that other job for the CIA.  Happy Mother’s Day!

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

3/5

Originally, Kid A was planning to take a nanny job with three little kids in a nearby neighborhood for the summer.  But then she was offered a summer internship at my dad’s law firm in southern New Jersey.  She weighed her options: Babies or the beach?  Wearing t-shirts covered in finger paints and spit up or dressing up for an office job every day?  Living at home with your parents who are always complaining about money or staying with grandparents who basically buy you whatever you ask for?  Kid A is smart, has always been independent, and has had one foot out our door since she went to Spanish immersion camp the summer between her sophomore and junior years of high school.  Obviously she chose the internship.  She has been gone (with the exception of a long weekend when she came back to GA for college orientation) since the beginning of June.

Kid A and I texting a few short weeks after she left

Kid A and I texting a few short weeks after she left

Kid B was relied upon heavily during the house selling and buying phase of the summer.  Basically, she raised the other kids for us.  Well, she did along with all of the video game systems we have in the house.  Do you know what happens when you leave a 15-year-old in charge?  I’m talking no bathing until the weird smells start to offend, cereal/ peanut butter sandwiches/ frozen chicken nuggets as the “fancy” meals, and a glazed look in everyone’s eyes as a result of 8 – 10 hours a day of electronics exposure.  I wasn’t paying attention to how bad it had gotten until one morning, after dropping Kid B at the soccer field for training, Kid E and I were having a nice car conversation.  Then he asked me if I knew what a K/D spread was.  I did not, but said I could look it up when we got home.  Imagine my horror when I learned it was short for Kill/Death ratio (basically, how many kills you achieved before your character was in turn killed), tracked in Halo, a military science fiction video game.  Parenting Fail #1,024 for the summer.

Me:  Um, you know that this is a video game and you NEVER, EVER shoot anyone in real life, right?  Because when you die in real life, you don’t get more lives.

Kid E: Yeah.  Yes.  Of course, mom.  I know.  Everybody knows that.

Eh, they’ll survive.

Fortunately for everyone, I was quickly jolted back into a lead parenting role as Kid B had a trip of her own planned this summer.  She went to Europe to guest play with a team from Mount Pleasant, South Carolina in an international soccer tournament.  She was gone for almost two weeks.  She traveled to several cities in Spain (including Barcelona, San Sebastian, and Madrid) as well as the beach in Biarritz, France.  She had the trip of a lifetime and didn’t miss home very much at all.  As a matter of fact, she admitted to crying on the plane ride home because she couldn’t stay there for the rest of the summer.

For me, the time with both Kid A and Kid B gone was amazing.  Don’t get me wrong… I enjoy both of them tremendously and love that they are my children.  But let’s be honest about the Catch-22 situation involved in raising independent, strong-willed, powerful women (which is my end game in successful parenting Kids A, B, and C, by the by).  There is the occasional tension and butting of heads between teenage girls and their mothers.  And I’m saying that in the nicest way possible.  Add in PMS, some OCD, the DMV, a deficit in R-E-S-P-E-C-T, plus a pinch of sarcasm, and you likely get one or more parties CRBT (crying real big tears).  I already knew it, but while they were gone I was hit once again by the fact that raising teenagers is really hard.  I’ve stopped counting all of my parenting fails with them.

Eh, they’ll survive.

But will I?

Oh, of course I will.  I used their time away to thoroughly enjoy the three littles (well, Kid C is not so little anymore, but you know what I mean).  We went to the movies and the pool and we played games and stayed up too late and went out to dinner (it’s much more affordable with less people!).  It was relaxing and light and fun.  No matter how many kids you start out with, it turns out having fewer is kind of a vacation.

But when it was time to pick Kid B up from the airport, we were all excited and ready for her to be home again.  Especially the ‘kids’ that she raised for us.

Kid B airport pickup

Now we are back to 4/5.  And even though it is only for a little while, I can’t wait for all of my chickens to be home.  Having Kid A go off to college in August will definitely be interesting.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

 

 

Joy to the World

OK, so I’ve been a total slacker lately.  First, all of this horrific winter weather crap happened.  I don’t know if I have seasonal depression, or just depression depression, but I was definitely on the verge of curling into a ball in the corner.  Then Sheepdog and I escaped for eight days in Mexico.  It was glorious… sun, exercise, quality time with my husband (high-five to us for breaking the headboard), and complete autonomy over my day.  It was complete and total bliss in paradise.

It physically hurts me to look at this picture right now.

It physically pains me to look at this picture right now.

But everything has a price, so we returned to a gaggle of kids with multiple versions of the plague.  The only place I got to show off my tan was at the stupid doctors’ office.  I mean, the kid who puked on the floor in front of the check-in desk didn’t even mention my glow.  Not once, the selfish little bastard.  What a complete and total waste.

It already feels like a month has passed since our trip, yet we have been home fewer than six days.

But I think it is safe to say that things are starting to turn around for us in the health department.  Antibiotics and other various medicines have started to work, viruses are running their course, and quarantines have subsequently been lifted.  And today, praise generic zithromax, everybody left the house for work and school at their regularly scheduled times.

But not before a few of us had a morning hang-out in my bed, starting somewhere around the six o’clock hour.

First to crawl in with Sheepdog and me was Kid E.  He succumbed to a stomach bug earlier this week, but rallied within 24 hours.  I attribute this exclusively to the fact that he has finally been named Star Student in his kindergarten class, with his reign to begin next Monday.  It also happens to be his exact half-birthday.  “Abuzz with excitement” is a bit of an understatement when it comes to describing this kid right now.  We even already started filling out his information packet, which lists facts and favorites about him.

Family Pets: Robo Fish.  Why, yes, it is battery-operated.  Mainly because the mother can't handle taking care of even one more living thing right now.

Family Pets: Robo Fish. Why, yes, it is battery-operated inside of an empty, plastic bowl. Mainly because his mother can’t handle one more living thing right now.  Case in point: the dead, yellow leaf in the middle of the potted plant.  Don’t you judge me.

Much of our conversation this morning consisted of him asking questions about himself (Q: What is something special I have done for someone else?), followed by me prompting/ providing answers (A: Well, you brought home all of that homework for your big brother, who has already missed four days of school this week.)

Please, please, please do me a solid and let him be well enough to go back to school today.

As if on cue, Kid D bounded into our room and crawled on in with us.  Kid C arrived shortly thereafter and squeezed in as well.  Everyone was feeling good and planned on going about their regularly scheduled programming.  Joy to the world!

This week I have been overwhelmed upon re-entry to my real life.  I have post-vacation blues.  I am tired.  I am sick of everybody getting sick.  So I am sitting here, watching the rain fall outside my office window, daydreaming that I am out by the pool in the warm sun with a cold beer in my hand.  At 9:42 in the morning.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Six Months

Hey, B.

Just checking in…

I’m sure you have lots and lots going on right now.  I figure that you are still going through an orientation kind of period, where you get to learn about all of the amazing options available to you in the afterlife.  Kid A likes to remind us about the things you planned to do after you were done being sick.  Did you learn to speak Arabic yet?  For some reason, the thought of that always makes me giggle.  السرطان لا يزال يمص حتى ولو يمكنك التحدث باللغة العربية الآن.  In case you haven’t gotten around to learning it yet (like me with my Pimsleur Spanish lessons), that says “Cancer still sucks even though you can now speak Arabic.”  At least according to Google Translate it does.  I sure hope I didn’t just write something offensive.

I talk to or text with your mom and dad now and then, and I also see their posts on Facebook.  They miss you something fierce.  Everybody does.  And your brothers and sisters are still figuring everything out, too.  Hell, I can’t even say this silly little prayer to you without crying.  And now I just said “hell” in a prayer.  I am not very good at this, dammit.

I loved, loved, loved when you gave us a tour of “your spots” when we drove through Washington, D.C. this summer.  We don’t normally even drive through the city (we go around), so I knew something was up.  And then Sheepdog got turned around in the same exact place that I got turned around when I was driving to my 25th high school reunion just a few weeks earlier.  Once was “whatever,” but twice couldn’t have been just coincidence.  Then I looked back from my seat and saw Kid A happy-crying as she whispered, “Braden is here.”

Thank you for that.  It was amazing.

Dear God,  That's a very important Kid you've got up there.  Please make sure he is adjusting okay... sometimes he like to play tough.  Oh, and thank you for beautiful orange sunsets.

Dear God, That’s a very important Kid you’ve got up there. Please make sure he is adjusting okay… sometimes he likes to play the tough guy.  Maybe you could give him some extra hugs or something.  Oh, and thank you for beautiful orange sunsets.

I worry about Kid A sometimes.  She still marks your symbol on her wrist every single day.  Then she traces “Come What May” in your handwriting over top of it.  She wants to get it tattooed, but I am making her wait until she turns 18 to do that.  Sheepdog offered to take her across state lines to Alabama (mostly because he is also campaigning for a new tattoo… you remember the biohazard one he wanted you to get because of all of the chemo?) but I put my foot down.  Yes, I am still a rule follower.  And yes, I am still putting my foot down about stuff.  Tattoos are FOREVER.  But I guess that you will be with her forever too, so I get it.

Over all, she has been handling everything pretty well.  She has the distractions of her senior year to keep her busy.  We hardly see her at home.  But I worry about her most when the busy stops.  And every once in a while she will say something that gives me pause.

Like when she said, “I am afraid to get close to anybody because the people I love die.”

And honestly, I didn’t know what to say back.  Because – technically – she is right.  You died.  Everybody dies.  Some die later and some die sooner, but we all die.  It is one of those yin/yang facts of life.  Yet, we can’t guard ourselves so closely that we never let anyone in, either.  So, I hugged her and let her cry about you and I reminded her that she can’t let fear dictate her choices in life.  We keep encouraging her to do more counseling and therapy.  And she has been trying hard to do fun things and meet new people this year, so I think she is going to be okay.  But I will continue to keep an eye on her just in case.

And maybe you can keep doing your surprise drop-ins, too.  In between your Arabic lessons, of course.

I miss you, Kid.

xo

Arrivederci, Italia and Goodbye, Royal Princess – (The Last) Day Twelve in Venice

Day eleven was our second At Sea day.  It was cooler along the Adriatic than I would have liked.  I wished to sit up on the Deck 16, sunning myself and reading a book, but the wind and clouds forced me to move on to Plan B.  So I worked out and then took a much-needed nap.

Day Eleven At Sea

Day Eleven At Sea

Our final stop on this cruise is Venice, Italy.  We started navigation down the lagoon around mid-morning, and we docked close to noon.  The views coming into Venice were absolutely spectacular, made even more amazing because we watched them from my great-aunt and uncle’s balcony on the bow of the Royal Princess as we celebrated their 52nd wedding anniversary with champagne and hors d’oeuvres.

It was just the six of us touring Venice together on this final day (Mom, Dad, Sisters B and C, Kid A, and me).  The rest of our group went over on their own.  We took a short bus ride, followed by a water taxi to shore.  We wandered around the streets of Venice for quite some time.  We definitely got lost for a while, but apparently you are supposed to do that.  I liked Venice best when we were alone on the meandering, narrow streets, passing small cafes and shops and houses.  We even walked past an artist quietly painting inside his studio with the doors open so he could enjoy the beautiful day.

We loosely followed our map of the city and ended up getting gelato near a church (Fun Fact: there are more than 140 churches throughout Venice and the lagoon islands).  We also took a famed gondola ride.  By that time we had gotten lost in the crowds once again, especially when we reached the restaurants, shopping, and Piazza San Marco.

I was so pleasantly surprised by how much I loved the city of Venice.  The architecture was spectacular.  The views were breathtaking.  I don’t know how else to say it except that Venice left me with a really good feeling inside.  Being surrounded by the water was peaceful and calming and romantic.  It made me want to come back to visit.  And it made me miss Sheepdog so very much.

And what perfect timing, because early tomorrow morning we disembark the Royal Princess for good and take a ten-hour flight back to Philadelphia International Airport.  Following a three-hour layover, we will fly to Atlanta, where Sheepdog will be waiting to pick us up.  We gain six hours traveling westward, which will make it a 30-hour day, but that means we get to go to bed at a reasonable hour once we’re back on Eastern Standard Time.

So, now it is time to say farewell to all of the incredible places we have visited over the past two weeks.  It has been an amazing trip, filled with memories and laughter, long lines and swollen ankles, and more than a few bottles of wine and vodka.  Most importantly, we got to experience it together as a family.  Well, minus the too-pregnant-to-travel Sister D.  The trip just wasn’t the same without her.

Now when do we start planning our 2014 African Safari?

Arrivederci, Italia and Goodbye, Royal Princess

Arrivederci, Italia and Goodbye, Royal Princess

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Greek Mythology – Day Ten in Athens

Our captain made the announcement from the bridge last evening that we would be docking in Piraeus along with five or six other cruise ships today.  Our ship alone held over 3,000 passengers and 1,500 crew members.  Times six!  That is a lot of people.  I definitely can’t count that high in Greek.  Also, they were forecasting bright sunshine with highs near 90° F, so get out the Vaseline.  It’s going to be another sweaty underpants and chafing thighs kind of day.

No matter, because I have been looking forward to Athens the most on this trip.  I have always been enamored of Greek architecture, culture and history.  I have been intrigued by Greek mythology, with all of its gods and goddesses and creatures, since the very first time I saw Clash of the Titans.  Athens has been inhabited by humans for the past 7,000 years, at least!  Athens was the home of Plato’s Academy and Aristotle’s Lyceum.  It was the host city for the first modern-day Olympic Games.  It is called the birthplace of democracy and the Cradle of Western Civilization, for goodness’ sake.  How could I not be excited to visit?

Well, let me tell you…

We opted for a Hop-On/ Hop-Off bus tour in Athens.  Hop-On/ Hop-Off is a great tour choice that was available in many of the cities we visited.  The gist is that these bus lines have several stops located at different points of interest throughout any given area.  You can stay on board and listen (in several different languages) as a tour guide explains pertinent details along the route, or you can hop off at any stop to walk around and explore in more detail.  You can then hop back on at any of their scheduled stops to continue on around the city or return to port.

At the port of Piraeus, there were three options for Hop-On/ Hop-Off bus tours… Red, Yellow or Blue.  There is little information to base your choice on, so we randomly chose the Yellow Bus.  We would find out later that it was not the best choice.

We started up with a brief tour of Piraeus.  From what I could tell, it’s a great place to live if you endeavor to be employed as a porn salesperson or a stripper.  But, to each his own.

Our first stop was the Acropolis.  Time for our first Hop-Off.  How exciting!

The main interchange there was jam-packed with vehicles, vendors, and people.  We loaded up on cold waters and set up the mountain toward the ticket office.  It took us a ridiculous amount of time to walk 100 yards.  When we finally made our way there, it had become clear that this was not the place to be on this day.  It was so overcrowded (and rumored to be very unsure footing) that we opted not to go see the Parthenon up close.  Instead, we climbed a smaller peak and got a spectacular view of the whole city.  No tickets necessary.

After our short hike, we walked back down to explore other parts of Athens.  We stopped for lunch (tzatziki, lamb, Greek salads, ΑΛΦΑ “Alfa” beer) and walked around a little more.  At that point we were ready to Hop-On to our bus.  It was easier said than done.

Once we finally found a Yellow Bus stop, we waited.  And then we waited some more.  While we waited we were unwillingly serenaded by aggressive musician-types, looking for money.  A young, gypsy boy came up to us and was playing the accordion (really poorly – not one lesson) right in our faces.  I did my standard, “No, no!” and waived him off.  Sister B did it too, but instead of moving on, this eight or nine-year-old boy stopped playing and yelled, “YES!” right back at her.  My mom got involved and then he said something inappropriate to her as well.  Sister B replied with, “You need to learn some manners.  You do not disrespect an old lady!”  It was turning out to be that kind of day.

So we waited some more.  And waited.  More waiting.  “14 stops in the city center.  A bus every 30 minutes.”  Um, no.  We waited with a Yellow Bus representative (who likely wanted to use his perky yellow tie to choke himself by the end) for almost an hour until a bus finally came to take us back to A4: The Acropolis & Parthenon.  Then we had to wait some more for another bus to take us around Piraeus and eventually back to the port.

The only fun part about all of the waiting was when we met a French couple who were also waiting, and we practiced our French phrases.  When Sister B said something really obscure and correct, she screamed, “Regardez-moi!”  Our new French friends laughed and laughed.

Around 4 o’clock, we finally got back to the ship along with several other groups of passengers.  We were all hot and tired and dusty, and we smelled like Greek soup.  I called out to no one in particular as we waited for the elevators to drag our sorry butts up to our rooms.

“So… did everyone enjoy Athens today?”

A man next to me answered in his thick Irish accent, “I enjoyed going there.  I enjoyed much more coming back.”

Ditto.  Athens was a big, fat bust.  Its awesomeness must only be a myth, just like the Centaurs and Sirens.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

September 11th as an American in Turkey

We left Istanbul the day prior and motored all night and into the first half of the following day.  We pulled into the port of Kusadasi, Turkey around noon on Wednesday.  Kusadasi is less than 900 kilometers (not even 600 miles) from Benghazi, Libya, the site of the attack on an American diplomatic mission exactly one year prior.  It is also just about 1,500 kilometers (approximately 900 miles) from Damascus, the capital city of Syria, where civil war brings daily images of death and destruction that most Americans can’t even begin to imagine.

I was worried.

I was on high alert.

I was situationally aware.

We were American tourists in Turkey on September 11th.

I had promised Sheepdog that I would always stay close to Kid A during our travels, but most especially on this day.  Most Americans over the age of twenty-five are able to tell you in detail where they were and what they were doing that clear, fall morning when the planes deliberately crashed on our American soil.  Even twelve years later, I can still remember those feelings of anxiety and fear and grief and uncertainty.

As a group, we decided to disembark the ship, go into the port, but not travel too far into town.  I was adamant that we have some sort of escape plan (as lame as it was to “escape” onto a cruise ship… it was the best I could do under the circumstances).  That meant no tour of Ephesus, the ancient Greek, and later Roman, city famed for the Temple of Artemis (one of the Seven Wonders of the World, which was destroyed by Goths in the 3rd Century AD), as well as the still-standing Odeum, the Celsus Library, the Temple of Hadran, and the Great Theater.  It also meant no visit to the House of the Virgin Mary, which is widely recognized as the final resting place of St. Mary, Mother of God.  So what was left for us to see and do in Kusadasi, you ask?  Take a wild guess.

My dad and I carefully watched my daughter, mom, and sisters as they moved from shop to shop throughout the winding district.  Shopping, as per usual, was on the docket today, especially once someone heard a rumor that shopping in this port rivaled and even surpassed that in the Grand Bazaar.  At least here I didn’t totally hate it, but only because the sales people in Kusadasi were less intimidating and pushy.  They were even kind of funny.

"Sir, I know I will like you VER much.  Come." - common sales pitch heard in port of Kusadasi

“Sir, I know I will like you very much. Come.” – common sales pitch heard throughout the shopping district in the port of Kusadasi

We made it through the shopping district in under two hours.  And a wonderful thing began to happen during that time… I was actually able to relax a little and enjoy the people of Turkey.

Don’t get me wrong.  I was still very situationally aware and always had eyes on the Energizer Bunny Shopping Team as well as others around us, but I also interacted with many of the vendors while my dad and I waited outside of the stores.  Most, if not all, of them were kind and interesting and really enjoyed practicing their English (which can be a fantastic source of entertainment).  We asked questions of each other and I learned many things that I did not already know.  It was a wonderfully surprising experience for me.

When there was a lull in the procurement of souvenirs, we decided to sit down at a cafe for a bit to enjoy some wi-fi and Turkish beer.  It was a gorgeous day… sunny and in the high 70’s/ low 80’s.  We were checking in with family and friends at home, talking to one another and other people around us, and generally having a very nice afternoon.  We enjoyed it so much that we ordered another round.

Facebook check-in on 09/11/2013: Kusadasi, Turkey.  God Bless America!

Facebook check-in on 09/11/2013: Kusadasi, Turkey. Mom, Dad, me, Sister B, Sister C, and Kid A.  God Bless America! (and free wi-fi)

It was getting later in the afternoon.  Soon it was time for the Muslims’ salat, specifically the Ahr (afternoon prayers).  We had learned a little bit about the five daily Islamic prayer times from our tour guide on Tuesday in Istanbul.  There was a mosque beyond the area where we were sitting that broadcast what I presume was the salat into the marketplace.

Imagine being an American tourist sitting at an outdoor cafe with your family on a beautiful, sunny afternoon, drinking an Efes Pilsener, and enjoying the company of those around you, all while listening to Islamic prayers playing live over a loudspeaker.  I have never had a more surreal experience in my life.

I understand that we were in a very insulated town that makes its income mostly from tourist revenue, so we were as safe as we were going to be in that part of the world.  Nevertheless, what a pleasant surprise on this day in Kusadasi, Turkey.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…