We are now fully in the thick of moving planning. As previously noted, I quit my job this week. This morning, I spoke to an extremely peppy realtor, who will be coming over next Tuesday night to examine us and our home and decide whether we are worthy of her services. (This vaguely reminds me of an adoption homestudy and totally makes me feel sympathy for all the crap adopters have to go through.) I also checked up on placing an ad online for our dog* so he can be adopted.
I also made a doctor's and a dentist's appointment. Why, you might ask? Because the Navy does not own a map.
According to the Navy, when a family is transferred overseas, each member must have a physical, updated vaccinations, and a dental exam. This is presumably so that if you move to, say, Nigeria, you will be prepared to be exposed to sleeping sickness, malaria, HIV, and all manner of other unpleasant diseases. (Note that none of those diseases are actually helped by vaccinations, but whatever. We'll pretend that doesn't matter.)
I have to take off work and get all of these things done because we are moving to Hawaii. Because Hawaii is technically "over the sea," it is considered "overseas." Never mind that malaria and polio are pretty much impossible to get in Hawaii, or that Hawaii has one of the largest and most advanced hospitals available to the military on it. If it's got an ocean between us and it, it's full of nasty foreigners who want to spread their yucky germs to us Americans. So I have to go get innumerable needles poked into my arms tomorrow night, and then get my teeth scraped next Wednesday, and if I ever find out who decided Hawaii was a foreign country, I'm going to kick their xenophobic little ass.
* My dog is basking in reflected glory right now. If you watched the Westminster Dog Show last night, you saw this dog win Best in Show. My dog looks exactly like her, except red instead of brown.