Thursday, September 4, 2008

Over and Out

I'm signing out. I'm also in Italics, and I don't know why. It's ten at night, and Lydia and Elisheva have barely gone down to sleep, I had no luck finding any furniture on craigslist (it's my fault not its - like a mattress to sleep on, or a Washer and Dryer). I'm sure we have things scattered all over my in-laws' house, but I don't know what or where, but I'm sure as soon as we arrive we'll need it desparately. I don't know where any shoes are. I need to go and finish packing the borrowed suburban with our junk.

So if we manage to make it out, we'll see on on the other side, also known as Ohio.

(Really, we're doing well. The trailer is packed. We're leaving at 6:45 tomorrow morning (after my Mother in law finishes her seminary class), and I know we'll be ready then. Once I find my shoes. And take a shower. And load food and a huge box and a cello and my jewelry box (it's it's own piece of furniture, which is funny, because I don't own that much jewelry).

Although on a side note, today we went and closed a bank account. While sitting, waiting for the bank person to get our money, I looked at Avram and I. We had been working outside much of the day in the hot sun and sweating. Our clothes were dirty. My pants had grease on them. My hair was up in a clip, but hadn't been parted or combed at all today. One of my socks was white, and one was black. He hadn't shaved for a couple of days. Elisheva was only clothed in a dirty onesie. I felt like telling the bank person (not a teller, not a manager, maybe a loan officer sort of person who helps people in little see through office?) that we are white trash, and planning to take all of the money we got out and put it under our mattress, which is our real bank account.

We'll have Internet (and phone) next Wednesday, September ninth. Unless that's not a Wednesday. My brain is broken. Avram just said that Tuesday is the ninth so we'll go with him. So I'll be reachable then. Although no one will know how to reach me, but we'll burn that bridge when we get to it.

Adieu, Ou revoir, A ribidacci, Ciao, good bye and good night.


  1. Thora it always makes me laugh how you compare yourselves to white trash when your a bit dirty or say you're homes in the Ghetto when it's not the newest development or what not.

    No one could believe for a minute they way you and Avi speak that you are white trash and you tend to make whatever place you live in very nice.

    So buck up you're but human and that's wonderful.

  2. Best of luck on the move and with starting over. Better than showing up to a bank dressed as white trash is bumming around your new home dressed as white trash. That way when the immaculately dressed neighbors and ward members show up with a casserole, they can take away a quality First Impression. Not that I would be speaking from experience or anything....

  3. Hope your move is going well. Looking forward to your return.

  4. You don't hear white trash discussing Arabic, Aramaic, and Akkadian over dinner. Call us when you're ready for that campus tour!

  5. Who plays the cello? How did I not know that? (I play the cello.) And I think probably my most white trash feeling moments were when we were in Southern California and took our 5 year old daughter everywhere in just a dirty yellow shirt and a diaper because it was way too hot for pants. I also have a habit of lumping all errands together, including workouts at the gym. And since I can never actually manage to get out of the house early enough to run errands before the gym appointment, tend to go everywhere--Grocery shopping, thrift storing, etc.--looking extremely nasty. At least my sister is usually there looking nasty with me, and my baby is typically fairly well dressed. sigh.
    Looking forward to posts from Ohio!