Bangkok

Oh. So much to say... again. I'll just jump right in.

We survived the flights! Just as Nick was scanning our passports at the first check-in, all the computer screens went blank and it was the big United Airlines shut-down for a few hours. No big deal; it was a pain but our flight was only delayed by an hour or so. The flights were uneventful, and yes, very long, but the girls slept through most of them so they were drama-free. I had really been looking forward to getting sushi in Tokyo airport, but we were so out of it at that point that neither of us cared. We just vowed to return. We got to our hotel here in Bangkok around midnight and showered-- I was so sour-smelling that I threw my shirt out and scrubbed until my skin hurt, very Silkwood-- and fell into bed. Sleep was hit or miss. The only room they had was one with a single king bed, so we've been piling into that together every night. It's not so bad. I always like sleeping with my girls.

One funny note about the long flights: for several days afterward, Nick and I have had a little vertigo, like we were on planes so long that it gave us sea legs. It still comes back on & off and we've been here four days. 

So! My first impressions of Thailand. Well. Obviously it's hot. However, I don't feel like it's that bad. There's always a good breeze, and I'm so excited to be here that I'm still willing to forgive a whole lot. It's just part of the experience. My memories of Ghana are 16 years old at this point, but I still think Ghana was hotter. Chiang Rai is apparently a good ten degrees cooler than BKK most of the time, so if that's true then it's going to be perfect.

I was expecting more people to speak English. I was under the impression that English was common in BKK but not so much in the rest of Thailand, but it seems to be pretty rare here! I'm okay with that, and with the ten or so Thai words and phrases that I know, a woman told me this morning that my Thai is very good. It must be a pretty low bar. I'm trying so hard to pick out words when I hear it spoken, and to translate characters as I see them, although I haven't studied those as much as I'd intended. C student in Thai... I will have to up my Thai game in Chiang Rai for sure.

BKK has some very distinct smells, mostly smoke from cooking fires and incense from the many Buddhist shrines all over the place. Sweet and kind of spicy. I love it. 

They don't over-AC buildings here! It's quite nice! Even just after a few days, 77 degrees in our room feels comfortable (bordering on chilly). I just ran an errand outside when it was probably in the mid-80s, and I thought "oh, I could run in this, if I stayed in the shade."

So far, I like it a lot. I can't say I love it yet... and here is why.

Kids ruin everything.

Our first day, we just hung out by the hotel pool and took naps to recover from the trip. That was fine. I did yoga by the pool under a tree that smelled like honey. Day two it was time to get out, so we went to the Chatuchak Market. It was awesome, in the true sense of the word.

They only quit complaining when we put something cold in their yappers.

I call this the Chatuchak Manicure. Heh. Hey, Germany friends: doesn't this remind you of Eurrailing?

But the thing about a place like that, which is a feast for all of the senses, is that you need to be able to take it all in. You need at least a moment to digest what you are seeing and smelling and so on. There was no such moment. It was nonstop bitching from the munchkins about the heat until we finally gave up. I should add that bitching kids = snapping adults. I spent the rest of the day with them back at the pool and Nick napped.

After that, we were a little gun-shy about doing anything that wasn't the pool. We decided to check out one of the famous malls here, but we went with the one closest to our hotel. Now, I was told about these malls, and I thought, "what, who cares, it's a mall." Just the word brings to mind same, same, same. And my friend Taya, who went on and on about the great shopping in BKK, is a trained fashion designer. She is also very thin, which broadens her options considerably. She was telling this to a frumpy, overworked, overweight suburban middle-aged mom (that'd be me) whose fashion sense boils down to stretchy and cheap. Old Navy, Target, ponytails; I've kind of given up. Shopping does not appeal to me, as a general rule.

WELL. My sincere apologies to Taya, because I was so, so wrong. This mall (not even considered one of the better ones!) was an absolute revelation. Even Nick wanted to shop, and this is a guy who calls to me, "pick me up a pair of 33/34s" when I'm heading out to Kohls. This place. It was full of tiny stores, and each one was -- I'm having a hard time describing it. Each one was its own thing, not a chain, but a wee individual boutique, and the clothes were all so unique. Almost like nothing I'd seen before. It was like an art show, but all actually wearable, not like weird high fashion-- and not expensive!

Whoops... Something got lost in translation there.

A typical store. Each had its own theme.

It made me realize what an incredibly narrow selection I've had almost my whole life. I left that mall starry-eyed, newly inspired to dress better, and of course drop some weight first. Protest all you want about what I look like; I'd at least like to be able to wear my wedding rings again. There are parts of my neck that touch other parts of my neck, and I'm not a fan of that sensation. Sigh. We all have our crosses to bear.

We left the mall and the kids immediately became mewling baby birds in the heat. I remembered finding this cool indoor playground for kids on the web a few months ago, so we hopped in a cab and went on a whim. It was incredible! Huge climbing structure, a track for bikes, a climbing wall! They had a place for the kids to make and decorate their own cookies.

We stayed for three hours, then... yep, came back to the pool.

Granted, it's a pretty nice pool.

Now I remember why I took this picture! THOSE EARS. 

So today is our fourth and last day in the Big Mango. We have not seen any temples. We have not seen the floating markets. We have not eaten a single bite of street food. We can't even take any tours by car because the girls start fighting in long taxi rides, oblivious to the crazy cool things going on outside the windows. I have managed to sneak out for a couple of massages, which were... you know, the A word again. But by and large, we've missed out on most of it. I am disappointed, but not mad; I mean, we do live here now, and Nick and I have already decided that we'll each make trips back by ourselves to see the cool stuff. We've seen enough of the city to feel like we could manage it on our own. It would be a cheap, easy weekend, but kind of a bummer since we won't be able to make memories together. Kids ruin everything.

My wilting flower

The silver lining to their suckage is that they are becoming closer to each other, which is really fun to watch, and one of our intended objectives. And I have to hand it to them, they're actually doing very well. I was twice their age when we moved to England-- a temperate, English-speaking country with few surprises-- and I was wretched about it. (Mom and Dad, I am so sorry.) At least if we stay poolside, they're happy.

Chapter book

I haven't written here in ages, and the main reason is that there is way too much to cover. Each one of the following sub-posts was meant to be its own post, so in order to organize my thoughts like I often do in e-mails, I have to number them.

I. Stressful mind vs. relaxed mind
99% of the time, I'm thinking about what I want to write here when I'm running, driving, in the shower, or anywhere else I can't actually write, but can actually think. But even after a long drive, I would feel my mind start to tense up with obligations as I'd approach my house, ticking off items on my mental to-do list. For the past decade, my father and I have had season tickets to Boston Ballet. It's dawned on me for the past couple years that I enjoy going partly because I like ballet, but partly because it's one place in my life where my thoughts cannot be interrupted, and there's beautiful music to boot. My thoughts twist and grow like vines, with branching tangents, and occasional epiphanies to add bursts of color. I'm so looking forward to what my mind can do when it's given a little wiggle room. What new things will I learn? Will I be more creative? How?

II. We are leaving in six days.
Not to Thailand just yet; we'll be in Omaha for a week. But in six days we will officially be portable. No cars, no straggly leftover crap like we have now. Just suitcases.

In the past two months, as we've talked to other people about our plans, I've started feeling like we are somehow breaking the rules. We're bucking the social code. It is FUN! So fun, and surprisingly easy. Making the decision to do this was the hardest part. It’s fascinating to see the visceral reactions we get from other people. Everyone gets the wide eyes. But then it goes one of two ways: Some people get a look on their face like “…I wonder if I could do that? How are you doing that?” One night, a friend of ours had a few drinks and really got into the nitty gritty of it—questioning the meaning of life and what we’re all meant to do, why does he have the house in the suburbs and so on. It was fantastic, but I did feel a little bad for him. Fortunately, this couple is Indian, so they’ve already seen much of the world. Other people look at us with an almost hurt look, like we are betraying everyone. How dare we challenge the rules? That’s not what people are supposed to do. But I'll tell you... once you get a taste of the unorthodox...

A few weeks ago I had a dream that I shaved off most of my hair and dyed the remaining mohawk bright pink. When the clippers first hit my head, I had a moment of "Oh no-- wait! Should I be--? Well, I guess there's no turning back now." Then I got lots of compliments on my crazy hair. 

I feel more ready than ever. I have to say that since we accepted this job, I have never wavered from 100% certainty that this we are doing the right thing. I could board a plane today and not look back. At least not for several months, until I felt refreshed and healthy enough. Here, we are exhausted all the time. We never have the money to travel anywhere to relieve the burden of our daily grind, in spite of how hard we work. We’re too tired to exercise, so we’re fat and weak and pale. This past winter’s record snow had us housebound for two months, so I sat and ate and drank too much wine out of boredom and frustration. Now I’m a gray tired lump who lives in the car, usually crawling in miles of traffic. The car is cluttered, the house is cluttered, our schedules are cluttered, our minds are cluttered. We are squeezing ourselves out with almost nothing to refill our pitchers. We are desperate for color and sunshine and fresh air and motion; but also for Zen-like clean slates and peace & quiet. Anthony Bourdain says that going to Thailand is like seeing a whole new set of colors that he never knew existed. We are ready.

III. My health.

I had a long conversation with my cousin last night. She is a therapist. She was the first person to acknowledge the effect that this lifestyle (and cortisol) has had on our physical health. I've known it all along, but I feel like it's ignored in this country because it's just how things are. Everyone is tired and overweight and stressed out. I refuse to accept this. I touched on my health in the previous paragraph, but I am currently at the weight I was when I left the hospital after giving birth. I barely recognize myself in the mirror. I feel my heart race sometimes, standing for a while starts to hurt my feet, and I've actually started to notice difficulty reaching parts of my body, like tying my shoes. It's downright alarming for someone who has considered herself fit and active, a runner since age 8. I've swallowed every bit of this stress for the past two years, accelerating in the last six months, hitting critical mass in the last few weeks as we've been meeting up with various people to celebrate and say goodbye. I've tried to be accepting and body-positive and all of those nice things, but the truth is, this is not my normal body and I am very uncomfortable. 

IV. What I won't miss here.

I have to do this one first so I finish on a positive note. 

A. Traffic. Christ.

B. The obsession with Dunkin Donuts. I don't get it. Weak, gross coffee.
C. Car commercials, both TV and radio. They are a scourge on my ears, with the fast yelling and the guitars and the LOUD! And what's with the rapid-fire legalese at the end?
D. The Clear Channel, big-box sameness of this country. Also, Black Friday. It's a national embarrassment (not the concept of it, but people's behavior). 
E. The new rules of American (helicopter) parenting. I'm so sick of hearing constant worry and hand-wringing over everything. I have tried (and utterly failed) to convince people that the US is actually a safer place now than it was 40 years ago, but the statistics are ignored. I'm tired of fear and I'm tired of being judged. There's so much judgment!
F. The mean side of American culture. That people would do this. Or this. Or think cutting aid to the poor is okay, because they should Bootstrap it. And I'm done with hearing accusations of laziness being thrown around... see above with everyone exhausted. We should work 60 hours a week, but also be physically fit and spend time with our families because it's our personal responsibility. Ugh. 
G. American religious conservatism and its influence in politics. 

V. What I will miss here. 

A. I will miss Trader Joe's, and our local farm (Shaw Farm in Dracut-- everything is awesome there). 

B. I will miss an election year! Gladly! (PS, Go Bernie.)
C. The New England accent & culture. I love it here. Boston is a fantastic city. I feel very welcome here, I feel like these are my people. They are genuine, friendly, funny, intelligent, and a little raunchy. These are the people that made this great story happen, and I was so proud to be a part of it.
D. Knowing everyone. Okay, not everyone. But our real estate agent, our mortgage broker, our plumber, electrician, handyman... they all know each other. The guy who fixes my car is a former student and puts smiley faces on my oil change sticker. I love driving through Lowell and knowing alternate routes and shortcuts, and I know most of Boston by heart. It's all very comforting. 

I've been writing this for two hours now (!!) when I should be cleaning my classroom. The next time I get to blog will probably be in Omaha.

5 weeks, 5 days

I was just jumping on here to say pretty much the exact same thing I said in my last post. Whoops. We're busy. Exhausted. Living a Sisyphean existence, working and working and never accomplishing anything. Everything is triage. We went to a big party last weekend, which was a great time, but it was sensory overload: hundreds of people packed like sardines at tables in a huge ballroom, several courses of food, and music so loud it bordered on painful. Nick and I agreed that that party was a great metaphor for our lives right now: lots of good things, but overwhelming, unsustainable, and exhausting.

But! We have just over five weeks left of this. I am buoyed by that. I stayed home from work yesterday to list a bunch of our stuff on Craigslist and start downsizing the girls' clothes. I donated 8 full trash bags. It was a little painful to get rid of some of their nicer things, but I got over it. I've started losing sleep, waking up in the middle of the night worrying about how we're going to get rid of our stuff. There's so much stuff. Years and years of collecting. Every drawer and cabinet in the house is full. I can't wait until it's all gone, but I'm not exactly sure how that's going to happen. Bit by bit, I guess. The house is sold, and we have three weeks to empty it. It feels like forever, but that is going to sneak up on us awfully damn fast.

Deep breaths.

Grrrrrrrrrr

A very sweet person told me that the hardest part was over, which was finally landing that job. I wanted to believe him, but I knew it was still coming. I was right.

Preparing a house for sale just points a big magnifying glass on our life. We're out of the house at 6:20 to sit in the car for an hour, work all day, sit in the car for another hour, then come home and hit the ground running to work, work, work even more. There's dishes and laundry and dinner prep and dinner eating and homework and baths and coordinating and organizing and falling into bed, where we are asleep before the girls every single night. That level of GO GO GO is just what's required to get by. We're not doing anything extra. Not going to any school events, not cleaning the house, not even watching TV. The best we can do is a little Facebooking in between tasks, on our phones (because we can hide from the kids with them).

On Friday afternoon, I realized that weekends make me angry. I looked around the house, and it looked like a bomb went off. Crap everywhere. Papers, crayons, magazines, random toys, clothes, shoes, jackets. School papers from the girls on every surface. So the weekend is just about repairing the damage from the week, so we can get the house livable enough to do the whole thing over again-- not even clean, just livable. It's not a life! This is not a life! I must be a failure at working motherhood, because I flat-out cannot keep up with this, and I damn sure am not enjoying any part of it.

A side effect of this is that anyone that tries to make plans with us, or if a holiday pops up (like today, which is Easter), I get frustrated and angry. These are supposed to be the GOOD parts of life. But they get in the way of my survival-level treadmill, and I end up irritated. A lot. And then I get upset because I love the people in my life and I have a great time with them every single time we're together. It is never time wasted. But then I come home and there's still crap everywhere and piles of laundry and and and.

I don't know what my point is. I guess this is exactly why we're doing what we're doing. Today I started packing the one box I'm allowing myself to store of sentimental things-- yearbooks, photos, my high school letter jacket, our wedding programs. It was painstaking, but I'm glad I did it. I can't wait for all of the STUFF to be gone. All of it. We're within a few weeks of the estate sale, maybe a month, and I cannot wait.

What If We Did It?

I can’t even describe the last few weeks. In a nutshell: We were talking to Cairo, a neat little school three miles from the pyramids. We got very close to a job offer, and decided against it. 

We went several long weeks with nothing. No word anywhere, our letters of application ignored all across the globe. I started to plan what I’d put in my garden this summer since it looked like we were sticking around. I didn’t update this blog because I felt too sorry for myself. I was low, low, low. It’s hard to recover when you’ve taken almost two years to plan something this big, get yourself mentally prepared for it, and nothing happens. I gained ten pounds and watched the snow pile up to my eyeballs outside.

Then La Paz, Bolivia called. The guy liked us, we liked him, the school and city were just gorgeous. God, those mountains. We were awaiting his official offer and were planning to accept it when we got the e-mail from Thailand, requesting an interview. An hour after that, we were offered the La Paz job. This was two days ago. 

We stalled the La Paz guy while we talked to Thailand. We had two interviews in quick succession, and we got the e-mail this morning with the job offer. We’re moving to Chiang Rai, northern Thailand, in about four months!

So here is the “what if we did it” part. They don’t have any shipping allowance. This means we either pay to ship our own stuff, or we just don’t ship anything. We’re thinking of the latter. And this means we’ll be moving to the other side of the world with nothing but suitcases. 

I really don’t have much to say beyond that, besides… holy crap. We are going to do it.

Long-overdue update

It’s been forever since I’ve posted, mainly because preparing for the job fair took up so much of my time. So: job fair details!

We settled in on Thursday night, got some dinner, went to the orientation, met a few people. We started feeling very confident due to the presence of idiots at the orientation (one woman yapping to her friend the whole time, lots of people asking really stupid questions). We slept well and got ready for the big day Friday morning.

Picture a large hotel ballroom, with tables all around the perimeter. Each table had 1-3 people behind it, with a large poster-sized paper on the wall behind them. The paper had the school’s name printed on top, then the available jobs written below it in marker. There were so many schools there that they had two separate sessions of this. People would go up to the tables of schools they were interested in, chat with the director for a few minutes, then sign up for interviews. Very speed-dating.

We walked into the first session, and saw… a lot of white space on those posters. We walked around and around the room in disbelief, hoping things would change. There was just nothing available (unless you were an elementary teacher, then it was open season). It wasn’t as disappointing as finding a lot of jobs and having people reject us, but still a bummer. By the end of two job-posting sessions, we ended up with two scheduled interviews. One was with a school in Costa Rica, a place we hadn’t considered, but they had jobs and I felt like we clicked with the director right away. Costa Rica? Why not? The other interview was with Vietnam, which would be our second interview with that school. They had two English and two science jobs there! That doubled our odds. Surely we were in!

We were contacted by a third school in India. The three admins were impressed with our information, and wanted to talk to us. We were apprehensive about the India part, but the school looked beautiful and all three of the administrators were fantastic. We set up an interview time for the next day.

At this point, we had literally nothing to do for the rest of the day. Our interviews were all scheduled for Saturday, and it was only noon on Friday. We went to the hotel gym and tried to watch a movie on Netflix, to no avail due to the hotel’s terrible Wi-Fi. Throughout the day (and Saturday), schools held 30-minute presentations which were sort of like sales pitches for their schools; frustrating and odd to me, since most of them didn’t need selling. But we went to some of them, and it dawned on me that I’m starting to want this as much for the girls’ education as I do for my own career. Some of these schools are incredible. Extracurriculars out the wazoo! Is educational asylum a thing? Not that their education here is bad; they have truly excellent teachers. But I can’t get past Sascha’s 15 minutes of lunch and 15 minutes of recess for the whole school day. It makes me sick. This country has absolutely no regard for the value of downtime, or anything else that can’t be measured by a standardized test (which boils down to reading and math, reading and math, reading and math). It’s not the teachers’ fault. 

There was a reception that night for all 500ish candidates, where we lasted about 20 minutes before tiring of the noise and crowd and futility. We went up to our room to find two e-mails. One was from the India school. The science position had changed, and was now AP Physics, which I’m not qualified to teach, so India was out. The other was from Costa Rica. He only has so many places for teachers’ kids, and earlier that day he had filled his limit. Unless we wanted to shell out a third of our income to pay the girls’ tuition, Costa Rica was out too. That was a bummer. The school looked really fun and relaxed, and we were sure the guy would’ve hired us. 

That left us with one interview: Vietnam. 9 am. 

We got up an hour before our alarms. We got scrubbed up, fed, and back to our room by 8. We spent the next hour drilling each other with possible interview questions, thinking of the best possible answers. We quizzed each other on the school’s mission and philosophies. I put a fresh top coat on my nails. I whitened my teeth. I add all of this detail because it serves to illustrate the pathetic-ness (?) of what happened next. 

At 8:50, we went out to the elevators, quietly singing Ice Cube songs to each other and feeling like we totally had this. We arrived at the room early and paced the hallway slowly and confidently. Five minutes later, the director opened the door. This was it!

“I have some unfortunate news. I just got off the phone, and those positions have now been filled.” 

We were so numb that we smiled and brushed it off like he had just asked us to come back in an hour. “Oh sure, hey, no problem!” But I couldn’t feel my face for the next two hours for as hard as it had been slapped. It’s still painful to think about. But it wasn’t meant to be, and I have to accept that. 

We went to a few more presentations that day, which turned out to be very smart. We introduced ourselves to a few school directors after the presentations, which might end up helping us. The director of one of our top-choice schools sent me an e-mail saying that he was glad we’d introduced ourselves, and he was only sorry that he didn’t have positions to offer us. He and I wrote back a few times, and he asked if he could help (!). I told him that we currently have active applications in four schools, so if he knew any of those directors, just convincing them to take a closer look at us would be tremendously helpful. Anything to make us less anonymous. 

Going to the fair and meeting these people in person was priceless. We went to a presentation for one of the top schools in the world (really), and aside from the two administrators, there was one other guy in the room. They scrapped their presentation and just talked to us. It was fantastic. Inside my head every once in a while I’d squeal that we had the guys from this A-list school all to ourselves. Of course, turnover is so low there that they had no jobs, but I bet they’ll remember us if the stars align and someone retires. 

There were two schools that I really had my heart set on, but I just did not mesh with the directors. One of them has a General Science job listed. I went to talk to him and he said coldly, “yeah, that’s actually Chemistry. Sorry about that, that’s the way it goes sometimes” and he looked past me. I was so put off by him that I almost physically recoiled. He looked fine on paper. Now I know that I will never apply to that school as long as he is there, or anywhere else he goes. The other school’s director was very sweet but seemed sort of harried and distracted. I asked about the General Science job and he seemed confused, his voice trailing off as he walked away. Yeah, not meant to be. (As of this writing, both of those jobs are still open on the recruiting website. I know, I’m shrugging too.)

So at this point, we have three applications in to three different places: Dusseldorf, Albania (just down the road from Montenegro!), and another school in Bangkok. I’ve also written to Montenegro again to remind them that we’re still interested, since they apparently have not filled those spots yet. 

Jobs will still open up, since it’s only February. All of those teachers who found new jobs have to give notice where they work, which will open those positions. That kind of reminds me of when I was having dating trouble in my 20s, and I decided I’d just have to wait until all the good men were getting divorced in their 30s and then I’d get my chance (which didn't happen, fortunately). Whatever gets us in, I guess. 

The crazy emotional up & down has been the hardest part. Worst-case scenario, we’ll just try again next year. And we still love our jobs here, so that’s not a bad consolation!

A Tough Problem to Have

We got a bite.

Let me back up a bit. About a week ago, a new job opening came up. It's a tiny little school in a truly amazing location: Montenegro. I know, Montene-wha? That's exactly right. It's a nine-year old country that was part of the breakup of Yugoslavia after the Balkan War. It's right across the water from Italy. Are you ready for this? Here's what it looks like:


No joke. Mountains, gorgeous clear blue water, small town. What was I harping on recently? How badly I want to get AWAY. This place right here, this is away. The charming quirkiness of Eastern Europe (I have a special place in my heart for Russia in all of its concrete Eastern bloc glory) with the beauty and climate of the Mediterranean. Clean air, great weather, running, hiking, biking, gardening, QUIET. This view right here, as I sip coffee on the terrace, for $700 a month. I could finally hear myself think, and start working on my Giant Stress Belly in the fresh air and sunshine. What could possibly be better?

Hmm. Well... This could.

 

Okay, we wouldn't be living THERE, exactly. But the pictures of Saigon, Vietnam that thrill me aren't the same ones that thrill most people. Like this:

It probably smells bad there, but I'm still like "Yyyyeeeaaahh, bring it!" I am aware that this is the polar opposite of the peace and quiet I just described about Montenegro above. The irony does not escape me. But that's probably why Montenegro is just a hair above Saigon, at least for me (I think Nick is the opposite).

Okay, enough picture time. Here's the story.

I discovered the Montenegro jobs and started doing a little research. The school is just a few years old, so it doesn't have any reputation at all. The money isn't great, but according to the agency, a family of four could live comfortably on one salary, and we'd have two. The pictures of this place are to die for. I am completely smitten. It looks like it is exactly what we need: Quiet, slow, boring, beautiful. And quiet. It looks like the exact antidote to the life we're living now. And we'd still have easy access to the rest of Europe. We got a small bite of interest from the HR person there who said she'd be in touch by the end of the week.

In a moment of desperation inspiration, I made a video resume for us to try to make us more visible:

It's not perfect; when I made it, I was tired (of course), pressed for time (of course), and interrupted every five minutes by a kid or dog or phone call (of course). But whatever, it's good enough.

I decided to send it to a few other schools we hadn't heard from yet. Saigon South is a big, desirable school with a great reputation and lots of competition for jobs. The money and travel opportunities are great (and also? Domestic help). Before I discovered Montenegro, it had risen to first choice in my mind, even though the odds were slim for us. I figured I'd throw it at their wall and see if it would stick.

It stuck.

The principal wrote back to us right away. I think she likes us. She said our letter made her laugh out loud. She had a few more questions before we get to the interview phase, and I think we both wrote back great responses. I think our chances there are really good, just based on our banter with the boss.

Now I'm wondering if I should write back to Montenegro and ask them if they could, you know, light a little fire. Stay tuned, because this is all going to go down in the next week or so! Wheeee!!!