Jean pirouettes into the kitchen, not realizing I’m there, and catches herself. “I’m not used to you being here,” she says. I work from home a lot now. That was the scene last evening as Jean mentally prepared for the following day.
Today Jean is taking the oral assessment (exam?) to get into the Foreign Service. She is going to become a Foreign Service Officer and should she pass this time around, we will get posted…somewhere. It’s a lot like it sounds, except in this case the envelope being posted is our family and unlike the envelope, we actually have some choice in the matter. Normally I would be receiving the occasional text during the day, in this case on a break between one interview and the next, but Jean’s iPhone has been beat about the head and shoulders, presumably by one (or more) of the children, over-eager in their attempts to swipe from one photo to the next.
Spring is inexorably making its way to Hearthwood, like grass breaking through pavement, it pushes through winter. The Maple tree outside the office window is getting buds, as are the Dogwoods beyond. My pumpkin and watermelon seedlings are outgrowing their starter tray, though my pepper and tomatoes are less enthusiastic and have some time yet.
My beer brewing is a season behind! My Belgian Wit is ready, sure enough, but I have no Hefeweizen set to go, nor Saison.
I’m home from work today, watching the kids. Television is both my friend and arch nemesis. Too little and I will go insane from kid overload. Too much and the kids will be grumpy and addled from the exposure. Less rain, more sun please. I would normally text my missives to Jean…it’s only 10:00am now.
4:30. Jean has just called. She’s passed.