An Idiots Guide to becoming a Gypsy

USAir 3802, 31,000 FEET IN THE SKY—On Friday, my Mom called me to say hello. She asked how things were going, as far as moving and everything, and how the weather was going. As the conversation started to wane, she asked me if Lisa was around. “Nah, still at work,” I replied.

“Oh, ok, well I just wanted to ask her what it’s like to be unemployed!”

I laughed, but I hadn’t even thought about that yet—Lisa’s last day at work was Friday, so she was technically unemployed now.* Friday night and Saturday morning would be spent packing and cleaning for the move out of Lincoln; once we left the apartment and turned in the key, though, we’d be jobless and homeless. Yay for security!

It took us, realistically, the entire week to prepare for this move. I spent one or two days cleaning out my closet, throwing away trash, packing clothes, repacking them (in those vacuum-seal packing bags), and shuffling around different items to keep my two allotted suitcases to 50 pounds or less. Another day was spent just returning items to the store and running different errands around town. By the time Friday rolled around, I’d had more than enough of this moving business.

Things were really bad for Lisa, with her spending most of the week battling the chest cold that I happily shared with her. Being that she was working the 9-5 every day, her evenings were spent coming home and packing up all her possessions in preparation for this weekend. Even though I think we both wished we had more time to prepare to leave Lincoln, it was a complete and utter blessing when we rolled out of town in our packed-to-the-brim Accord and drove off into our futures.

Ah yes, the car—how could I leave that out? Mostly, I’d guess, because I’ve spent the last 12 hours trying to block it out of my mind. Even with the trip home last weekend to get rid of a lot of our stuff, there were still so many items that Lisa and I pined to take with us. Many of the items we gladly gave up: 2 huge cardboard boxes of clothes, Vadalia’s dog crate (which we lovingly filled with no less than 200 clothes hangers), the trusty microwave I had toted along with me no less than 5 different “homes” in 2 years. Other items were more difficult, and even after friends stopped by to take many of our possessions (thanks Wael and Sarah!), there were lamps and sports equipment and tons of other things that we would have loved to keep if not for space and logistical constraints. Saturday morning, then, we lined up everything that we’d decided we would to attempt to bring with us in the living room and began the process of packing the car.

I recognize that I am prone to be hyperbolic at times. Perhaps it’s the self-conscious cynic inside me, but almost any time I say “It was the heaviest thing I’ve ever carried!” or “I was starving!”, I feel a bit silly for being so dramatic. Really? That 20-pound backpack is the heaviest thing you’ve ever held? Were you really starving? Really? With that being said, let me report this:

Had we brought attempted to squeeze one more item—a plastic Wal-Mart bag, a small shoe box, a sweater—into that vehicle, I can say with all certainty that it would have exploded. Seriously.

[Side story: two summers ago, when we moved Lisa from Chattanooga, Tennessee, to Lincoln, Nebraska, I was bewildered by the way this woman was able to squeeze force an endless number of items into her Accord. Furniture, clothes, a dog crate: you name it, Lisa had packed it. All she had left in Chattanooga was one box of food she “kinda wanted to take” with her; everything else was in (including her puppy, who sat on the floorboard of the passenger’s seat). While it wasn’t comfortable at all, I was simply amazed by how Lisa was able to cram her entire life into that vehicle. Now flash forward to yesterday: This makes that look like a casual stroll through the woods.]

Between the back seat, the trunk, and the floorboards, Lisa again proved to be a greater packer than Bart Starr. But how full was it? Thanks for asking. My driver’s seat to the car was at its most upright position, scooted as close to the steering wheel as possible. Not only was leg space impossible, I had to steer the wheel with my elbows. Let’s do a little experiment:

1. Put your hands on your chest.
2. Move them two inches away from your body, keeping your elbows as close to your torso as possible.
3. Make fists like your holding a steering wheel.
4. Bring your knees up as close to your hands as possible.
5. Stop breathing regularly.
6. Pretend like you can't feel your legs.
7. Stay like that for 10 hours.
   

I promise you with every bit of my soul that this is not an exaggeration at all.

However, after nearly 13 hours, 5 states, and 2 time zones, a guy, a girl, and a 50-pound peeved-off puppy rolled into Indianapolis, exhausted, cramped, and ready for a good night of sleep. For Lisa, it was the beginning of her last fortnight at home as a single girl; for me, it was the day before I flew home to officially complete my reign as the Webb family dungeon (read: basement) master (read: borrower).

So here I am, sitting in an airplane, just a few days away from the end of an era. Often times, you hear about "the next chapter" (from people who don't themselves read, let alone write, books). In a way, I feel like this transformation is even greater; it's the end of one book and the beginning of another. I'm single, living at home, unemployed, and poor; soon, I'll be married, living on my own (in a foreign country, no less), teaching, and completely loaded comfortable.

The thing is, I'm psyched. I'm not worried. I'm thrilled. This week at home will be fun and relaxing, but it'll just be a layover. In just a matter of days, Lisa and I will set sail on our greatest adventure yet.

*I can’t say anything on that—I hadn’t been employed since the last week of May. Furthermore, I had no car, meaning that I would technically be referred to as a "drifter".

Barrelin’ along—A story of a torn bungee cord, a broken tailgate, and a nearly-disastrous furniture move

LINCOLN, NEBRASKA—One of the side effects of moving across the world is the inability to take all your possessions with you. Most airlines limit you to the amount of luggage you can take internationally to 2 full bags, one carry-on, and one “personal item” (a purse, murse, backpack, satchel, laptop case, diaper bag, duty-free sack, or fanny-pack). Nowhere, to my knowledge, does USAir allow one to take 2 wood dressers, 1 nightstand, and 3 giant cardboard boxes of “treasure” acquired over the last two years.

This rather unfortunate detail has forced Lisa and I to make a few decisions over what items we wanted to bring with us to Taiwan. Many items we sold via Craigslist; others we gave to friends and family. But what would be the fate of some of the larger purchases that we had bought intending to keep for a significant amount of time? Luckily, my family came through and offered a spot in their storage unit in Kansas to store a few of our larger furniture items, provided we could find a way to get all the stuff down there. One quick phone call to Enterprise Rent-a-Car (or in our case, Enterprise Rent-a-big-wed-twuck) solved our problem.

However, the day was not without flaws and… challenges. Here’s a run-down of what the 24 26 hours of hell looked like:

June 20th, 9:30pm—After spending most of the day discussing the packing that we should be doing, Lisa and I drove up to the airport to pick up the vehicle. Lisa, being 25, has to sign for the truck. On the drive back home, Lisa calls me to inform me that “This thing is AWESOME.” Jealous, I drive the not-quite-as-interesting Honda Accord aggressively to a song by someone named Lady GaGa.

10:00pm—We officially begin packing for the next day. Recognizing the task before me, I become volatile and start shoving clothes into plastic sacks at a breakneck pace.

June 21, 1:00am—Lisa and I call a truce and decide to go to bed then and wake up at 6:00 on the dot to finish our job.

6:24am—Packing resumes; the official plan is to be rolling by 9:00am.

7:01am—I declare to Lisa that it’s pointless to even try packing everything up (being that we have to much left to do) for the 3rd time. She insists that because we have already paid for the truck, we would be driving down to Kansas come hell or high water. I am reminded why I love her.

7:23am—Finally done with the packing. Now, all we have left to do is load 78 items onto the truck bed. Lisa, not being very good at math or logic puzzles, doesn’t seem to fret that there is approximately 4 times as many things to get into and onto the vehicle than there is space for. Again, she insists it will be no problem. Moving to the truck begins.

7:24am—First beads of sweat begin to roll down my back and nest on my booty. It’s going to be a long day.

7:27am—Colossal-sized dresser loaded onto truck in the lying down position.

7:36am—Nightstand and smaller dresser loaded onto truck in the lying position. It is now we realize that if everything is to fit onto the truck, it can’t be lyng down. The emergency plan is to stand up all items nearest to the cab and fill up the bed with as many things as possible to prevent the furniture from falling over. Foolproof.

7:40am—I remember a quote: “Nothing is foolproof to a sufficiently-talented fool.” Uh oh.

7:53am—Boxes upon boxes are stood up behind the dressers. I declare that there is no more possible space in the truck bed to fit even an envelope. Moving continues to the back seat of the cab.

8:14am—Mostly finished, I inform Lisa of my nervousness about the grey clouds hovering above us. Lisa argues that it will not rain (“How do you know that?” “It’s just not gonna!”). We compromise by agreeing to get a tarp and bungee cords for me; Lisa will get a grande Frappucino. Everyone is happy.

8:36am—Travels commence. First stop is Lincoln’s Super Target.

8:40am—We reach our target (wah wah). Acquiring the tarp and bungee cords proves to be easier for us than the brewing of our beverages by our talented, 16-year-old barista. There should be a college degree requirement for these employees. Perhaps unemployed English majors should be drafted into the $5 coffee beverage army.

8:52am—John Madden stops by to describe my complete dominance over the 8’x6’ plastic tarp and $15 bungee cord set: “You see what he did there, he pulled the tarp out and just covered the heck out of that bed. I mean, you think it’s gonna ride up or something, maybe fly off the bed, and BOOM, there he is, bungee cord. I’m looking at this kid, thinking, hey, he’s like the young Brett Farve of the truck/plastic-covering industry. Pat, pass me some more of that tur-duck-en…”

8:57am—Everything’s strapped down and ready to roll. Liftoff in 5, 4, 3…

8:58am—I look out the driver’s side mirror to see the tarp catching in the wind like a hot air balloon. One of the bungees has even partially ripped in half. So much for the “We can protect this stuff against the wind, rain and bug splatters” effort. Off with the tarp, but some bungees can stay on to secure the precious cargo.

9:01am—Everything secured again. Take 2.

9:04am—Lisa’s eyes don’t leave the dresser in the back. She expresses her nervousness about how the dresser is learning a wee bit backwards, collapsing the cardboard box of clothes behind it. On my rearview mirror evaluation, it can’t possibly be leaning back more than 5°.

9:05am— Ok, maybe 10°.

9:06am—30°.

9:06:30am—45°. Ok, Lisa, we’ll find a spot to pull over. However, there’s not really anywhere to do any kind of extensive rearranging, so we have to hop off Highway 77 to some abandoned parking lot.

9:12am—4 or 5 boxes are pulled out of the truck so the big dresser can lie down. All is good, except now we have to get all that stuff back in. Lisa, a master packer, get all but one colossal cardboard box back in the truck bed. She shoves it into a far-too-small spot and slams the tailgate closed. It responds by popping off its hinge.

9:31am—Lisa tinkers with the tailgate, trying to figure out how to just snap it back into its place. I still haven’t moved since Lisa broke the truck.

9:33am—I finally get my bearings and help her try to jam the piece back into its (now-broken) hinge. Running through my mind is not how we’re going to get all this stuff to Kansas, but how we’d even be able to get it back the 10 miles to Lincoln without a tailgate.

9:37am—A lot of really angry grunting.

9:40am—We finally get it set just right so we can close the back. Finally loaded up, we get back on the road. Lisa sits in the passenger’s seat and giggles.

9:53am—I end my angry speaking-strike against Lisa.

9:54am—She’s cute, so I guess I have to forgive her. Danget. At least now we’re going to safely make it home.

12:13pm—My last drive from Lincoln to Junction City comes to a close. The only casualty is my sanity.

12:32pm—My parents lead us to their storage facility, where we unload all of our loot. All is safe. Now off to Manhattan for some food and shopping.

6:13pm—Leave for the return trip to Lincoln. At some point on this drive, I realize that my throat is getting sore. By the time we hit Nebraska, I’ve almost completely lost my voice.

9:47pm—We return the truck to Enterprise Car Rental with just minutes to spare. Whew. With everything safe and secure, we drive home to get some decent rest after an exhausting day.

Done with college, AGAIN.

LINCOLN, NEBRASKA—Here's a dirty little secret I didn't like to talk much about during Graduation Weekend: despite the fact that I would be marching, as the Senior Class president, I wasn't actually done with college.

See, because of the wonderful Union Scholars program (who, in its infinite wisdom, decided not to offer a Religion course over the last 4 semester, despite requiring them), I got stuck writing a 20-page paper over *random uninteresting topic that we both know you don't want to hear about*. So, when everyone else marched a month ago and began enjoying their post-college life, I still had a few miles to go before I slept.

Well, that all changed today. After turning in my paper (over a topic that slowly began melting my mind) to my professor yesterday, I received this email:

Chris,

I have just finished reading your paper. I wish you had included [generic complaint of things that he wishes I would have done. Had I not been at such a crucial crossroad, I would have gladly responded with a list of things I wish I could have suffered through rather than this paper, including dry heaves, cerebral hemorrhaging, and leeches.]

But your summary of the major themes in the works were very well done. Your conclusion was well stated. Both of these aspects somewhat made up for the deficiencies described above. I would give your paper a 95% grade which is enough for an A.

Congratulations on completing your college work. Best wishes to you as you take your diploma and begin you life work!

To which I gladly responded,

Hell yeah.

Just in case you're looking for a way to cause mental melting, here's my paper.

Our first week with the new camera

Featuring pictures of the craziest dog in the world:

Bye bye to my ride...

LINCOLN, NEBRASKA—Part of the whole leaving-the-country thing is having to liquidate all our worldly possessions. I've spent much of my time these last few weeks selling off everything I possibly can on Craigslist: a dresser, a bed, my TV/sound system/Playstation 2/entertainment center combination, my fiance's engagement ring washer and dryer, and now, my beautiful 1999 Honda Civic. I didn't get quite what I wanted out of it, but I got enough that I could pay some bills and buy our plane tickets for Taiwan. Here's the ad:

Let me first say that I love this car and I'm completely heart-broken that I have to part with it. I just got a job working overseas for 2 years, though, and that's a little too long to let a car sit in storage, so I must sell it. Kelley Blue Book prices my vehicle at approximately $5,165, so I would like to get $5,000 out of it--I'm trying to pay for college, a wedding, and an overseas move--however, I am willing to negotiate a little bit.

This car had been listed at $6000 (because I accidentally looked at the wrong Kelley Blue Book entry--I put it down as Retail and not Private Seller), so this is the corrected posting--sorry!

Color: Black
Mileage: approximately 68,000
Engine: 4-Cyl. 1.6L VTEC-E
Transmission: 5 Speed Manual
Drivetrain: FWD
Entries: 2 door
Fuel Efficiency: approximately 30-35 miles to the gallon.

Standard
| Air Conditioning | Power Door Locks | Dual Front Air Bags |
| Power Steering | Tilt Wheel | Alloy Wheels |
| Tinted Windows | Power Windows | AM/FM Stereo |
| CD Player | Rear Spoiler |

Only two owners ever--the first was a professor who drove it just from home to his school, the second is me (no accidents or major issues)--so it's a safe vehicle. Wonderful for a first car.

Pictures are available at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/cwebb00/tags/mycar/show/

Please contact me for specific information, including the Vehicle Identification Number (VIN). Reply to this email or call (402) 570-1421.

All I have left of it now is the tree-shaped air freshener and the pictures I posted to my Flickr.

Shutup, "Madagascar": I HATE to move it move it.

Accepting the Diploma

By the way, if you listen closely you can kinda hear Colonel Sanders Union College Academic Vice President Malcolm Russell chuckling before he speaks into the mic. That's because I'm telling him how to pronounce my name.

Throughout the Commencement excercises, there were some crazy names for Malcolm to pronounce: Samoans, Asian, and at least one Egyptian. In a moment of nervousness, I decided to crack and joke and inform Malcolm the correct way to pronounce Chris Webb: "Exactly how it looks". Luckily, he missed my joke, gave me a confused look, and then just read my name.

Graduation!

LINCOLN, NEBRASKA—Finally...

College, CHECK; Student teaching, CHECK

LINCOLN, NEBRASKA—After what seemed like YEARS (because it was) of college, I've finally accomplished what 29% of Americans can claim to have done: walked out of a higher learning institution with a degree. Even though I still have a few days before I march, as of today, I am a bonafide teacher. Woot.

The final hoop involved in graduating was to do my student teaching, a very intense praticum that is basically an education department's answer to an internship. Working closely with Lincoln Southeast High School's Michelle Stewart and Johnna Graff, I taught 4 "preps" (different courses) and 5 classes:

• English 9
• Oral Communication (2 sections)
• Law and Literature
• Popular Culture

I could tell all kinds of stories about the amazing opportunities I had to work with such consummate professionals and excellent students, but we'll save that for another day. For now, I relish in the fact that I've walked the halls of Lincoln Southeast for the last time as an instructor...

...until Friday, when I come back to sub for my classes.

Gonna keep moving!

LINCOLN, NEBRASKA—Chris and I began dating in October 2006, and it's been a whirlwind of events ever since. I can't believe how much my life has changed and how many wonderful growing experiences and opportunities God has provided for us!

I moved to Lincoln, Nebraska and simultaneously traded one job in the mental health profession for the next. I am half-way done with a master's, and busy as ever. After spending months teasing and tormenting me, Chris proposed in October 2008 locking him into a life with me (how did I work that out!!!).

Chris and I came to a definite crossroad between his graduation, my career/education, and the wedding. We were ready for something different and both were looking to spread our wings a bit. We prayed and pondered, researched, and planned, and repeated the cycle multiple times. Doors opened, prayers were answered, and we jumped in with both feet! Taiwan, here we come! (AFTER the July 12, 2009 wedding of course-- can't forget the best day of my life!)

Lisa's First Marathon

Today, Lisa and her friend Shawna did their first half-marathon! Here's the proof:



Congratulations to those two crazy kids!