I am a little (OK, a lot) stressed and distracted today. K called me last night as I was riding bikes with AJ. We had only ridden 2 miles of the 30 we'd planned. I was able to talk to him for about five minutes. It was 2:30 a.m. there, so he couldn't wait and call me back when we'd be finished a couple of hours later. He said he'd get some rest and call me the next morning, which would have been about 12:30 or 1-ish last night.
In the five minutes that we were able to talk, I asked him about some attacks I'd gotten an email about from the family group. He had mentioned them to me in an email himself. He had said there had been some deaths, but that everyone we know was OK. He had never used wording like that before, which made me a little more anxious about the attack than usual. When I asked him about the attack, he said, "Which one?"
That wasn't the response I'd expected. I asked him if there had been more. He said yes. I asked if his base had gotten attacked. He gave a nervous I-don't-know-if-I-should-tell-you-this laugh before slowly saying, "Yeah."
He said the attack had happened during some bad weather earlier that day. It was raining pretty hard, so the bastard insurgents knew there would be less people guarding at that time. They chose to attack by air. Luckily, what K told me about the insurgents' lack of precision proved to be true. The explosion occurred outside the walls of the base, but still ...
This is the third time since February -- and the second in only a few weeks. If logic told me the second time that an attack would happen again, this third one leaves me with no doubt that more will come.
You've probably guessed by now that I didn't hear from K last night. It could be for a number of reasons -- he could've had a meeting that ran late; he could have had something else come up preventing him to get to the phone; the lines to get into the call center could have been really long (especially since the communication blackout had just been lifted from the last attacks) ... or there could have been another attack with more injuries and/or deaths, thus resulting in another communication blackout. And honestly, none of those are the worst-case scenario.
Until K is able to call me again, I probably won't know which of those was the reason. I'm sure he is fine, but it's still stressful.
I mentioned the quick phone call, the lack of a return call and the attack K had told me about to Brit when I saw her at work earlier today. I didn't realize quite how bothered I was by all this until I caught myself fighting back tears as I told her about them. Luckily, she was too busy preparing her lunch to notice.
It's frustrating walking around work all day with my mind elsewhere, feeling completely distracted. I have to carry on like everything's normal, like I'm not a huge ball of stress inside. I have to walk around like it hasn't been over a week since I've really gotten to talk to my husband, like he didn't tell me someone tried to drop a bomb on his head yesterday, like I don't have my phone attached to me at all times, and like I'm not carrying a prioritized list of things to tell him next time we really do get to have a conversation.
And I have to do this for 10 more months.
*****************************
UPDATE
I heard from K at about 7:00 tonight. It's ER's birthday, and I was juuuust getting to the restaurant to meet her and several others for dinner when K called. I was able to talk to him for a little under 15 minutes. He's doing well.
And now, I am too.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
In case you're wondering, my dinner turned out wonderfully too
For some reason, I decided last night that I was going to cook myself dinner. I had gotten the A_Man, A_Can, A_Plan cookbooks for Christmas, and I hadn’t tried to make anything from them yet. I looked through them last night and found the three recipes that sounded most appealing at that time. I wrote down the ingredients I’d need to buy to prepare the three meals, and I headed off to the grocery store.
I was almost finished with my list when I started having some real trouble trying to find the last few items. I looked and looked all over the same aisles multiple times, but I couldn’t find what I needed. I decided to myself that that’s why I don’t cook – it’s too hard to find all the ingredients!
My phone rang as I was hunting for pizza sauce. I pulled my phone out of my purse. No name was coming up, but I recognized the number. I had dialed it before for something, but I couldn’t place the number. I answered the phone. “Hello?”
The voice on the other end said hi. The person sounded like they knew me. I still had no idea who I was speaking to. “… Hi,” I said, to stall a bit longer. I was taking a breath to say, “I’m sorry, who is this?” When the person said hi again. And then it hit me.
I was talking to my mom. Shit! This antsy, anxious feeling came over me. “What are you doing?” she asked me.
“I’m grocery shopping.”
“Oh. Is this a bad time?”
“Yeah,” I said slowly. I told her I was having trouble finding the tortillas and pizza sauce. She started naming places I should check. I’d looked in all of them. She was suggesting a few others and telling me what to be looking for (“The pizza sauce comes in a small jar. It’s probably by …”). I started studying the aisles more closely in case I’d glanced over what I was looking for. As I continued my search, she kept giving me suggestions and descriptions to help me find the missing ingredients.
It was weird to have not talked to my mom in almost a year, only to suddenly find myself having a conversation about something as mundane as on which shelf my Wal-Mart would decide to place pizza sauce.
When I’d managed to find both the missing items and discovered I had a new quest ahead of me in tracking down minced garlic (remember, it’s all for three different recipes), I told her I would call her back once I was finished and back at home.
As soon as we hung up, I called my dad to tell him what had happened. He didn’t answer, so I immediately called ER. When I told her I’d realized the person I was talking to was my mother, ER gasped loudly. “What are you gonna do? Are you going to call her back?”
I told ER that I pretty much had to, since I’d told my mom I would. So once I got home and put my groceries away, I took Piper outside and started to prepare dinner. I knew the night was going to be a busy one for me, so I called my mom as I was cooking. She asked me where K is nowadays. I told her Iraq. She asked me if I’m still in my same job and in my same apartment. She didn’t know I had a dog. She also didn’t realize that I still talk to my stepsisters.
I told my mom that I had started a draft to answer her email, but that I’d decided not to send it because I didn’t think it was a good thing for either of us yet. I told her that the fact she’d taken off work the entire week of my wedding and had waited by the phone for me to call and invite her made me feel that way. I reminded her of the multiple emails I’d sent telling her the decision whether or not to come was hers. I reminded her of the responses she sent that gave me no indication whatsoever that she was coming to the wedding. I reminded her that she’d told me she had spent all her vacation time and money remodeling her bathroom. How was any of that supposed to make me think she wanted to come to the wedding?
I told her I needed her to accept responsibility for the fact she missed the ceremony. She accepted some of the responsibility, she said, which, frankly, for her is pretty dang good.
I told my mom that I knew she wanted to be at the wedding, but that I wasn’t sure if her not coming was done to hurt my feelings or to be stubborn (my mom used to skip my brother’s events after she had a fight with my dad, so this would be totally characteristic of her). I told her I was surprised she didn’t even call on the day of the wedding, and she said, “I figured you wouldn’t have wanted me to.” I told her, “You’re probably right, but I figured you still would have.”
We were honest with each other, and we were able to have a good, long conversation. We talked for over two hours. Before we hung up, my mom tried to leave the ball in my court by saying she hoped I’d call again soon. I told her quite frankly that I’m going to be hesitant to call at first. I can’t just jump right back into it like I hadn’t just had a conversation telling my mom I have a dog, my husband’s in Iraq (been there for five months now, thanks), and sure I’ll send you an email so you know how to spell my last name.
The good news is that the conversation went as well as possible. I’m still approaching with caution just in case, but at least things seem promising for once.
I was almost finished with my list when I started having some real trouble trying to find the last few items. I looked and looked all over the same aisles multiple times, but I couldn’t find what I needed. I decided to myself that that’s why I don’t cook – it’s too hard to find all the ingredients!
My phone rang as I was hunting for pizza sauce. I pulled my phone out of my purse. No name was coming up, but I recognized the number. I had dialed it before for something, but I couldn’t place the number. I answered the phone. “Hello?”
The voice on the other end said hi. The person sounded like they knew me. I still had no idea who I was speaking to. “… Hi,” I said, to stall a bit longer. I was taking a breath to say, “I’m sorry, who is this?” When the person said hi again. And then it hit me.
I was talking to my mom. Shit! This antsy, anxious feeling came over me. “What are you doing?” she asked me.
“I’m grocery shopping.”
“Oh. Is this a bad time?”
“Yeah,” I said slowly. I told her I was having trouble finding the tortillas and pizza sauce. She started naming places I should check. I’d looked in all of them. She was suggesting a few others and telling me what to be looking for (“The pizza sauce comes in a small jar. It’s probably by …”). I started studying the aisles more closely in case I’d glanced over what I was looking for. As I continued my search, she kept giving me suggestions and descriptions to help me find the missing ingredients.
It was weird to have not talked to my mom in almost a year, only to suddenly find myself having a conversation about something as mundane as on which shelf my Wal-Mart would decide to place pizza sauce.
When I’d managed to find both the missing items and discovered I had a new quest ahead of me in tracking down minced garlic (remember, it’s all for three different recipes), I told her I would call her back once I was finished and back at home.
As soon as we hung up, I called my dad to tell him what had happened. He didn’t answer, so I immediately called ER. When I told her I’d realized the person I was talking to was my mother, ER gasped loudly. “What are you gonna do? Are you going to call her back?”
I told ER that I pretty much had to, since I’d told my mom I would. So once I got home and put my groceries away, I took Piper outside and started to prepare dinner. I knew the night was going to be a busy one for me, so I called my mom as I was cooking. She asked me where K is nowadays. I told her Iraq. She asked me if I’m still in my same job and in my same apartment. She didn’t know I had a dog. She also didn’t realize that I still talk to my stepsisters.
I told my mom that I had started a draft to answer her email, but that I’d decided not to send it because I didn’t think it was a good thing for either of us yet. I told her that the fact she’d taken off work the entire week of my wedding and had waited by the phone for me to call and invite her made me feel that way. I reminded her of the multiple emails I’d sent telling her the decision whether or not to come was hers. I reminded her of the responses she sent that gave me no indication whatsoever that she was coming to the wedding. I reminded her that she’d told me she had spent all her vacation time and money remodeling her bathroom. How was any of that supposed to make me think she wanted to come to the wedding?
I told her I needed her to accept responsibility for the fact she missed the ceremony. She accepted some of the responsibility, she said, which, frankly, for her is pretty dang good.
I told my mom that I knew she wanted to be at the wedding, but that I wasn’t sure if her not coming was done to hurt my feelings or to be stubborn (my mom used to skip my brother’s events after she had a fight with my dad, so this would be totally characteristic of her). I told her I was surprised she didn’t even call on the day of the wedding, and she said, “I figured you wouldn’t have wanted me to.” I told her, “You’re probably right, but I figured you still would have.”
We were honest with each other, and we were able to have a good, long conversation. We talked for over two hours. Before we hung up, my mom tried to leave the ball in my court by saying she hoped I’d call again soon. I told her quite frankly that I’m going to be hesitant to call at first. I can’t just jump right back into it like I hadn’t just had a conversation telling my mom I have a dog, my husband’s in Iraq (been there for five months now, thanks), and sure I’ll send you an email so you know how to spell my last name.
The good news is that the conversation went as well as possible. I’m still approaching with caution just in case, but at least things seem promising for once.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
I'm officially one for two this year on tear-free dental visits!
Last time I went to the dentist was in early January. K had barely been gone a month, and the fact we still had 14 months to go in this deployment was tough to think about.
In those first couple months after he left, I had a little problem with the radio. Without warning, a song could make me start crying. It wasn't just a certain list of songs that I'd have to avoid -- that would be too easy. Instead, the tears could be triggered by a number of things: a sweet line that made me think of K, a sad melody, a song that I associated with a memory with K, songs about love, etc., etc.
The good thing about the triggers is that I could tell from the first few notes of the song if it was going to make me cry. Luckily, every time a trigger song had come on, I was in my car, where I could immediately remedy the situation by changing the station --
Until my dentist appointment in January. The dental assistant was cleaning my teeth when I heard the first few notes of Lonestar's "I'm Already There." Immediately, I knew I was in trouble. And changing the station was definitely out of the question.
As the song continued, my eyes began to fill with tears. I tried rolling my eyes to stop them from spilling over. I tried blinking excessively. I tried to think happy thoughts. None of it worked. My eyes soon spilled over, but because I was lying down in the dentist chair, it was easy to hide at first. I tried to inconspicuously wipe my eyes as the tears rolled over my temples. It worked for a minute or so, but I eventually got caught.
The dental assistant saw one of the tears, looked at my eyes and jumped back in her chair. "Are you OK? Did I hurt you? Why didn't you tell me?!"
I tried to get through it without having to explain: "No, you didn't hurt me. I'm fine. Really. It's nothing. I'm OK."
The dental assistant raised an eyebrow, as though she didn't quite believe me. She still thought she'd hurt me somehow. I was going to have to explain myself after all.
"It's the song." I told her that my husband had recently deployed, and since then, some songs just get to me. That day, it was that song. The dental assistant gave the standard "Aww"s and asked the typical deployment questions ("When does he come back? Is he in a safe area?").
Once she was sure I wasn't going to have an emotional breakdown in her chair, she got back to cleaning my teeth. When the Lonestar song finished and she was reaching for tools on the counter behind her, I had to laugh at myself over what had just happened. I can't imagine she gets adult patients who cry in the dentist chairs very often!
I was remembering that morning as I got ready for my day today. I had a checkup with my dentist at 8 a.m. It had been a long time since I'd had to change the radio station to keep from crying, so I was hopeful this appointment would be tear-free.
Of course, though, I managed to jinx myself.
As I was driving to the dentist this morning, I found myself tearing up when the song "Low" (yes, the Flo-R!da club song) came on.
The first time I heard that song was in K's apartment the week he left. His roommate was sitting with us in the living room on an inflatable mattress, which was the last piece of "furniture" left in the room besides K's TV. His roommate had his laptop in front of him and started playing "Low," saying it was his fiance's new theme song becaues of the "boots with the fur" line (although I'd never seen her wear boots, fur or furry boots, but it was still funny).
Hearing that song made me miss that time. I missed K, K's roommate and his fiance. I missed K's apartment, the crappy town where he was stationed, the close group of friends we hung out with each weekend ... I missed the one lousy restaurant in the whole town, which always had a big wait since there was nowhere else to go for dinner besides fast food. I had a whole second life in Louisiana with whole other friends, jokes and traditions. That life just stopped when K and many of those friends left for Iraq. Hearing "Low" had reminded me of that life and how much I miss it.
I changed the radio station to avoid starting my day with red, puffy eyes. It was kind of funny that the song that had gotten me out of nowhere this time was an upbeat, raunchy club song. But at least there was no danger of hearing it at the dentist office.
In those first couple months after he left, I had a little problem with the radio. Without warning, a song could make me start crying. It wasn't just a certain list of songs that I'd have to avoid -- that would be too easy. Instead, the tears could be triggered by a number of things: a sweet line that made me think of K, a sad melody, a song that I associated with a memory with K, songs about love, etc., etc.
The good thing about the triggers is that I could tell from the first few notes of the song if it was going to make me cry. Luckily, every time a trigger song had come on, I was in my car, where I could immediately remedy the situation by changing the station --
Until my dentist appointment in January. The dental assistant was cleaning my teeth when I heard the first few notes of Lonestar's "I'm Already There." Immediately, I knew I was in trouble. And changing the station was definitely out of the question.
As the song continued, my eyes began to fill with tears. I tried rolling my eyes to stop them from spilling over. I tried blinking excessively. I tried to think happy thoughts. None of it worked. My eyes soon spilled over, but because I was lying down in the dentist chair, it was easy to hide at first. I tried to inconspicuously wipe my eyes as the tears rolled over my temples. It worked for a minute or so, but I eventually got caught.
The dental assistant saw one of the tears, looked at my eyes and jumped back in her chair. "Are you OK? Did I hurt you? Why didn't you tell me?!"
I tried to get through it without having to explain: "No, you didn't hurt me. I'm fine. Really. It's nothing. I'm OK."
The dental assistant raised an eyebrow, as though she didn't quite believe me. She still thought she'd hurt me somehow. I was going to have to explain myself after all.
"It's the song." I told her that my husband had recently deployed, and since then, some songs just get to me. That day, it was that song. The dental assistant gave the standard "Aww"s and asked the typical deployment questions ("When does he come back? Is he in a safe area?").
Once she was sure I wasn't going to have an emotional breakdown in her chair, she got back to cleaning my teeth. When the Lonestar song finished and she was reaching for tools on the counter behind her, I had to laugh at myself over what had just happened. I can't imagine she gets adult patients who cry in the dentist chairs very often!
I was remembering that morning as I got ready for my day today. I had a checkup with my dentist at 8 a.m. It had been a long time since I'd had to change the radio station to keep from crying, so I was hopeful this appointment would be tear-free.
Of course, though, I managed to jinx myself.
As I was driving to the dentist this morning, I found myself tearing up when the song "Low" (yes, the Flo-R!da club song) came on.
The first time I heard that song was in K's apartment the week he left. His roommate was sitting with us in the living room on an inflatable mattress, which was the last piece of "furniture" left in the room besides K's TV. His roommate had his laptop in front of him and started playing "Low," saying it was his fiance's new theme song becaues of the "boots with the fur" line (although I'd never seen her wear boots, fur or furry boots, but it was still funny).
Hearing that song made me miss that time. I missed K, K's roommate and his fiance. I missed K's apartment, the crappy town where he was stationed, the close group of friends we hung out with each weekend ... I missed the one lousy restaurant in the whole town, which always had a big wait since there was nowhere else to go for dinner besides fast food. I had a whole second life in Louisiana with whole other friends, jokes and traditions. That life just stopped when K and many of those friends left for Iraq. Hearing "Low" had reminded me of that life and how much I miss it.
I changed the radio station to avoid starting my day with red, puffy eyes. It was kind of funny that the song that had gotten me out of nowhere this time was an upbeat, raunchy club song. But at least there was no danger of hearing it at the dentist office.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
The bike training continues
At the end of last week, I was excited to realize that my weekend was mostly clear. It looked as though I'd have plenty of free time to relax and enjoy myself. As usual, that changed pretty quickly but who am I to turn down nice invitations?
Friday night I left work just a tiny bit earlier than usual, but it was nice. I felt like laying around and doing nothing, but since I'd skipped the gym that Thursday night to hang out with ER and stuff my face with enchiladas and margaritas, I was really going back and forth on whether or not I should be a couch potato. I kept thinking, "I'm going to ride my bike 29 miles tomorrow. I can be lazy two nights in a row." I started looking for a good movie on TV when I somehow I managed to accidentally change to The Sweetest Th!ng. It took just about two minutes of watching Cameron D!az and Chr!stina Applegate prance around in their half-shirts with their amazingly flat stomachs to make me literally say out loud, "Fine!" and head to the gym. I got in some good cardio and an abs circuit. Score!
I did my 29-mile ride again on Saturday. This week, a girl who was on the ride for the first time wound up riding next to me and striking up a conversation. AJ and I became fast friends and rewarded ourselves with a pizza lunch after the ride was over. We made plans to ride together on Sunday.
Once I got home, I still felt like being outside because the weather was so gorgeous. I called Topeka, and we decided to lie out for a little while by her pool. Unfortunately, it was after we had spent our hour outside that I realized I'd gotten a bit too much sun on my bike ride that morning. I had managed to give myself a pretty awesome(ly bad) farmer's tan where my cycling shorts (which hit at mid-thigh) and my jersey (NOT sleeveless) had covered my skin. So sexy.
That night, I headed back to Topeka's for dinner. She has a younger sister who has had some tough times lately. The sister is in a treatment program here in Dallas right now, and she's staying with Topeka and her husband until it's over. Well, Topeka's sister invited a group of her friends over for dinner on Saturday night, and Topeka invited me to join them. She brought it up a few times, so I accepted. I hadn't realized that the friends Topeka's sister had invited were all people she'd met at the psych ward. That made for an interesting evening. All these three women (two of whom were at least 15 years older than us) talked about all night were what meds they were on, how expensive the meds are, how good a drink sounded, and about other patients seeking treatment. One of the friends was kind enough to change the subject from meds long enough to tell Topeka and I we're both too young to be married. Needless to say, that was an interesting dinner.
Sunday morning I went to church. In the afternoon, I went to the bike shop and bought myself some serious cycling pedals -- the ones you clip into and have special shoes for. The bike shop guy who sold me my bike over a year ago has been trying this whole time to get me to try the clips, but I had always been weary, especially with my knee problems. Seeing my new riding buddy's shoes, though (so cute!), is what finally convinced me. I'm such a girl ...
After I got all fixed up with my new gear and had a quick lesson to learn to properly use the pedals & clips, I met up with AJ to ride about 20 miles. We talked the whole time, which made it go by much faster. I really like her a lot. I even convinced her to join the team I'm on in the M$150.
As soon as I got in my car after we finished riding, K called me. He's doing well. He had a couple of exciting things he got to do recently, which I'm sure was a nice change of pace for him. We caught each other up on what's new in our lives, and we talked about how ready we both are for September to be here. I did tell K about the dream I'd had that morning as well, which made him more ready for that visit. :)
Sunday night, I'd planned on going to the gym, but I skipped it. I was tired. I got a care package ready for K and straightened up around my apartment. Before I knew it, I was up later than I'd intended to be. It's always amazing how packed my weekends wind up getting.
Even though it wasn't quite lazy and relaxing, I felt good about last weekend. It was really great and unexpected to have made a new friend, and it was nice to have spent so much time outside in such beautiful weather. New friend, great weather and cute new shoes? What more could a girl want?!
Friday night I left work just a tiny bit earlier than usual, but it was nice. I felt like laying around and doing nothing, but since I'd skipped the gym that Thursday night to hang out with ER and stuff my face with enchiladas and margaritas, I was really going back and forth on whether or not I should be a couch potato. I kept thinking, "I'm going to ride my bike 29 miles tomorrow. I can be lazy two nights in a row." I started looking for a good movie on TV when I somehow I managed to accidentally change to The Sweetest Th!ng. It took just about two minutes of watching Cameron D!az and Chr!stina Applegate prance around in their half-shirts with their amazingly flat stomachs to make me literally say out loud, "Fine!" and head to the gym. I got in some good cardio and an abs circuit. Score!
I did my 29-mile ride again on Saturday. This week, a girl who was on the ride for the first time wound up riding next to me and striking up a conversation. AJ and I became fast friends and rewarded ourselves with a pizza lunch after the ride was over. We made plans to ride together on Sunday.
Once I got home, I still felt like being outside because the weather was so gorgeous. I called Topeka, and we decided to lie out for a little while by her pool. Unfortunately, it was after we had spent our hour outside that I realized I'd gotten a bit too much sun on my bike ride that morning. I had managed to give myself a pretty awesome(ly bad) farmer's tan where my cycling shorts (which hit at mid-thigh) and my jersey (NOT sleeveless) had covered my skin. So sexy.
That night, I headed back to Topeka's for dinner. She has a younger sister who has had some tough times lately. The sister is in a treatment program here in Dallas right now, and she's staying with Topeka and her husband until it's over. Well, Topeka's sister invited a group of her friends over for dinner on Saturday night, and Topeka invited me to join them. She brought it up a few times, so I accepted. I hadn't realized that the friends Topeka's sister had invited were all people she'd met at the psych ward. That made for an interesting evening. All these three women (two of whom were at least 15 years older than us) talked about all night were what meds they were on, how expensive the meds are, how good a drink sounded, and about other patients seeking treatment. One of the friends was kind enough to change the subject from meds long enough to tell Topeka and I we're both too young to be married. Needless to say, that was an interesting dinner.
Sunday morning I went to church. In the afternoon, I went to the bike shop and bought myself some serious cycling pedals -- the ones you clip into and have special shoes for. The bike shop guy who sold me my bike over a year ago has been trying this whole time to get me to try the clips, but I had always been weary, especially with my knee problems. Seeing my new riding buddy's shoes, though (so cute!), is what finally convinced me. I'm such a girl ...
After I got all fixed up with my new gear and had a quick lesson to learn to properly use the pedals & clips, I met up with AJ to ride about 20 miles. We talked the whole time, which made it go by much faster. I really like her a lot. I even convinced her to join the team I'm on in the M$150.
As soon as I got in my car after we finished riding, K called me. He's doing well. He had a couple of exciting things he got to do recently, which I'm sure was a nice change of pace for him. We caught each other up on what's new in our lives, and we talked about how ready we both are for September to be here. I did tell K about the dream I'd had that morning as well, which made him more ready for that visit. :)
Sunday night, I'd planned on going to the gym, but I skipped it. I was tired. I got a care package ready for K and straightened up around my apartment. Before I knew it, I was up later than I'd intended to be. It's always amazing how packed my weekends wind up getting.
Even though it wasn't quite lazy and relaxing, I felt good about last weekend. It was really great and unexpected to have made a new friend, and it was nice to have spent so much time outside in such beautiful weather. New friend, great weather and cute new shoes? What more could a girl want?!
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Considering a reply
I haven't responded to the email yet from my mom. I'm really torn on what to do. I hate the drama and how overly emotional my mom gets. She's manipulative, and she has this reeeeeeeeeeeeeally annoying way of twisting words into something that's a direct insult to her. My conversations with her wind up feeling like I'm writing some legal document because I have to constantly clarify and define things as I speak to try to prevent her from manipulating my words. It's frustrating.
Honestly, right now I'm feeling like I don't want to respond to the email. Maybe my feelings are all due to PMS, but all I have to do is look at the past to know that responding will start another email chain where she replies in some overdramatic, junior high-like way, and I have to play the responsible adult by responding maturely. She'll fire back another ridiculous email or two, and I'll be ready to send her a giant f#$k off reply (more nicely written, but that would be the gist of it). Someone will talk me out of pressing send (last time it was K), so I'll just ignore all future emails until something big happens that forces another round of emails. It's an exhausting cycle, and I'm really tired of it.
It's been almost a year since I last spoke to her, and I'm still tired of her. She has issues, and everyone knows it but her.
I've written a draft of a response. I'm still not sure I'm going to send it, but for now, I'm sharing it.
I wasn't going to respond to this email at first, and to be honest, I'm still a little uneasy about it. I'd love to be able to have a relationship with you, but honestly, it's very difficult. If you want to have a relationship with me, I need you to take some responsibility and ownership for the way things are now.
I know I've been disrespectful to you. I know I've said some very harsh things to you. I feel like I was forced to be that way, though. When you and Dad first separated, you would call me several times a day telling me things that I didn't need to hear. In the beginning, I asked you many times to not tell me those things and to not put me in the middle. You kept calling, though, so I had to get more and more assertive to try to get you to listen. I feel like a lot of times, that's still the only way I can get you to really listen to me.
As for the wedding, I told you multiple times that the decision was yours on whether or not you came. I even emailed you Sept. 7 -- 15 days before the ceremony -- and you gave me a dramatic reply about how you felt the decision was made for you and like you weren't welcome. I wasn't going to drive to Oklahoma and beg you -- especially if you made it clear so many times that you weren't coming. You even went so far as to tell me you'd already spent your money and vacation time on remodeling your bathroom.
You say that you know you've made mistakes that have affected [my brother] and I, and you wish you could take them back. You say you've apologized for them, but then in the next breath (I'm not talking about your email, I'm talking about conversations we've had before) you're basically saying you don't understand why our relationships with you are the way they are. It's insulting and contradicting.
I'm sorry to hear you were in an accident. I'm glad you and [your husband] are OK.
Obviously I need to fill in some gaps -- especially between the last line and the previous paragraph. I just really don't have much to say to her, though. I have to choose my words so carefully that it's just too hard to get into much more.
I don't even care to be on her will. She has accused me a few times of only talking to her when I want money (which is funny, since I've been pretty financially independent since I was 14, but pretty much entirely so since I was 17). Yet here she is emailing me to get my address (which she has) and new last name so she can add me to her will? I don't get it.
Maybe I'm just not ready to hit send on my response.
Honestly, right now I'm feeling like I don't want to respond to the email. Maybe my feelings are all due to PMS, but all I have to do is look at the past to know that responding will start another email chain where she replies in some overdramatic, junior high-like way, and I have to play the responsible adult by responding maturely. She'll fire back another ridiculous email or two, and I'll be ready to send her a giant f#$k off reply (more nicely written, but that would be the gist of it). Someone will talk me out of pressing send (last time it was K), so I'll just ignore all future emails until something big happens that forces another round of emails. It's an exhausting cycle, and I'm really tired of it.
It's been almost a year since I last spoke to her, and I'm still tired of her. She has issues, and everyone knows it but her.
I've written a draft of a response. I'm still not sure I'm going to send it, but for now, I'm sharing it.
I wasn't going to respond to this email at first, and to be honest, I'm still a little uneasy about it. I'd love to be able to have a relationship with you, but honestly, it's very difficult. If you want to have a relationship with me, I need you to take some responsibility and ownership for the way things are now.
I know I've been disrespectful to you. I know I've said some very harsh things to you. I feel like I was forced to be that way, though. When you and Dad first separated, you would call me several times a day telling me things that I didn't need to hear. In the beginning, I asked you many times to not tell me those things and to not put me in the middle. You kept calling, though, so I had to get more and more assertive to try to get you to listen. I feel like a lot of times, that's still the only way I can get you to really listen to me.
As for the wedding, I told you multiple times that the decision was yours on whether or not you came. I even emailed you Sept. 7 -- 15 days before the ceremony -- and you gave me a dramatic reply about how you felt the decision was made for you and like you weren't welcome. I wasn't going to drive to Oklahoma and beg you -- especially if you made it clear so many times that you weren't coming. You even went so far as to tell me you'd already spent your money and vacation time on remodeling your bathroom.
You say that you know you've made mistakes that have affected [my brother] and I, and you wish you could take them back. You say you've apologized for them, but then in the next breath (I'm not talking about your email, I'm talking about conversations we've had before) you're basically saying you don't understand why our relationships with you are the way they are. It's insulting and contradicting.
I'm sorry to hear you were in an accident. I'm glad you and [your husband] are OK.
Obviously I need to fill in some gaps -- especially between the last line and the previous paragraph. I just really don't have much to say to her, though. I have to choose my words so carefully that it's just too hard to get into much more.
I don't even care to be on her will. She has accused me a few times of only talking to her when I want money (which is funny, since I've been pretty financially independent since I was 14, but pretty much entirely so since I was 17). Yet here she is emailing me to get my address (which she has) and new last name so she can add me to her will? I don't get it.
Maybe I'm just not ready to hit send on my response.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
It was ALMOST a good start to my day
I was in the shower, getting ready to start my day. I was thinking of K as I went through my lather, rinse, repeat routine. Shampoo, condition, exfoliate ... I was almost finished with my shower when the bathroom door opened.
I didn't have to open the curtain to know it was K. He was coming to join me.
"Thank God!" I thought to myself. "It has been waaaaaaaaaay too long."
Just as K pulled back the shower curtain, I was startled by this weird, repetitive loud noise.
And just like that, K, the water, the anticipation -- all of it -- completely disappeared.
Figures.
You think you hate your alarm clock.
I didn't have to open the curtain to know it was K. He was coming to join me.
"Thank God!" I thought to myself. "It has been waaaaaaaaaay too long."
Just as K pulled back the shower curtain, I was startled by this weird, repetitive loud noise.
And just like that, K, the water, the anticipation -- all of it -- completely disappeared.
Figures.
You think you hate your alarm clock.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Pictures I meant to post days (and weeks) ago
Remember that 5k I did in March?
My brother's first time in a race car in almost two years
Pictures from the storm last Wednesday night (this was all from my neighborhood)
Meeting up with one of my old roomies last weekend
My impromptu photo shoot with Piper
It was tough at first -- she kept eating the flowers and looking everywhere but toward me -- and then I got these.
My brother's first time in a race car in almost two years
Pictures from the storm last Wednesday night (this was all from my neighborhood)
Meeting up with one of my old roomies last weekend
My impromptu photo shoot with Piper
It was tough at first -- she kept eating the flowers and looking everywhere but toward me -- and then I got these.
I'm just over the drama
It's been over a year (Christmas of 2006) since I last saw her. It's been almost a year since we last spoke to each other, and it's been several months since we had any communication at all. In those months, my wedding day, K's leaving and Christmas came and went without a phone call. She might not even realize that K is in Iraq, and unless my stepsisters told her, she doesn't even know I have a dog.
But last night, completely out of the blue, I got an email from my mother. I was surprised at how completely emotionless I felt when I saw it waiting for me in my inbox. The contents really weren't surprising.
The dramatic beginning:
But last night, completely out of the blue, I got an email from my mother. I was surprised at how completely emotionless I felt when I saw it waiting for me in my inbox. The contents really weren't surprising.
The dramatic beginning:
I'm not sure if this will reach you or if you will even answer but still, I try.
It's been nearly a year since I last heard your voice. In case you're wondering, yes, I am sorry I didn't see you married. I cried the whole day. I took off that entire week and sat by the phone hoping to hear from you. Puh-lease. I emailed her three separate times inviting her to the wedding, and I explained very clearly why I was emailing her rather than calling. All three times, she went off on tangents that had nothing to do with why I'd emailed her. She made the decision not to come to the wedding, and the third and final time I emailed her two weeks before the wedding, I told her the decision "is, was and always has been" hers. As usual, she responded maturely. (sense the sarcasm?)
I don't know why my mom took off work that whole week. It doesn't make sense! I was the one who got married, and I only took off one day that week and one the next. My mom had told me in one of her early responses about the wedding that she and her husband had used the money and vacation time they would have spent on a vacation on remodeling their bathroom instead. Guess that wasn't entirely true.
I can't believe that she thought I was going to be the one to call her. I was the bigger person through the whole thing, brushing off her ridiculous emails and telling her if she changed her mind on whether or not to come, it would always be her decision. After some of the things she said, I can't believe she thought I'd need to be the one to call her. Seriously?
Anyway, so she went on to say that at the least she wants my address, my brother's address and my last name, since she doesn't know how to spell it. She and her husband were in a car wreck two months ago, and although neither were seriously injured, she's "been reminded that we are not promised tomorrow," so she's reaching out to me again -- and putting together her will.
Reminds me quite a bit of the time we were arguing and she blurted out, "I'm DYING ... ... ... [insert pause the size of Texas as I start wondering what's wrong and how long the doctors have given her to live] ... ... ... and so are you."
I haven't decided if I'm going to respond or not. I just have my doubts about what good could come of it.
That's just swell(ed)
Last weekend was yet another where I was constantly going, going, going. Friday after work, I headed to Fort Worth to meet my old roommate, who was in town from OKC for a conference. We went out for dinner and drinks and were able to catch up on things. It was the first time possibly since I graduated college that we'd gotten to hang out just the two of us, and it was great. I miss her!
I had to get up early the next day, so we called it a night before midnight, which was awesome. I got up at about 8 the next day to ride in a cycling group. The MS150 is only three weeks away, so I had to get some good riding time in. I went on a 20-mile ride, and I was doing great. I was in the very front of our group with three or four guys. I was riding along just fine when I switched gears and managed to pop my chain off. I pulled to the side of the road, and the guys I was riding with rode on, unaware of what had happened. It was no big deal, though, since we were with a big group. I knew several packs were behind us, and someone in those groups would be able to help me out.
I stood patiently on the side of the road. I tried fixing my chain myself, but I wasn't quite sure what I was doing. I was worried I'd mess it up more than fix it, so I decided to wait for someone who knew what they were doing and could hopefully explain it to me so I could get myself out of this situation next time.
Well, the next group to ride past me was a group of 6 or 7 men. And they all really did just ride past me. "Awesome! Thanks for your help! Real chivalrous there!" I called after them.
I decided I'd have to be more vocal with the next big bunch of people. When the next group, which was probably about 15 or so cyclists, passed me, I yelled out, "Does anyone know how to fix a chain?" Everyone ignored me. I stood in disbelief. Jeremy called me right then (even when I'm on my bike, my phone is right by me in case K calls). I answered my phone since I was waiting for the next group, which was several hundred yards away from me. As I explained to Jeremy what was happening, I found myself on the verge of tears. If no one would help me fix my chain, what was I supposed to do? I was almost 10 miles away from my car. I'd either have to ask Jeremy to come get me and pray that my bike would fit in his car, since I certainly couldn't leave it, or I'd have to walk my bike 10 miles. Neither sounded good to me.
I hurried to get off the phone so I could catch the next group. As they rode past me, I called out, "Can someone please help me?" A man on a bicycle built for two said to me, "Do you need some help?"
I was relieved someone had finally answered. "Yes! Please!"
I was even more shocked when the man responded: "Sorry! Can't stop." Was he kidding me?! Why had he even bothered asking?
The eyes were just starting to spill over in frustration when I noticed a cyclist had turned around to come back to me. She asked if I needed help. "I guess no one else was gonna stop," she said. She told me she didn't know how to fix a chain, but she couldn't just ignore me. She'd try to help -- and she did. She fixed it.
Just then, the final stragglers of our group slowly rode past with one of the leaders of the group. He asked if everything was OK. I told him yes, finally, thanks to the woman beside me. I told the leader how everyone else had ignored me. The leader told me it wasn't really their fault, since they're not supposed to stop during the ride. He said it could be dangerous if three or four people tried to stop at the same time (hello? that's what hand signals are for!). I told the leader he didn't have to worry about that on this ride because everyone who was on it that day was a jerk except for the woman who helped me. (And I meant it!)
Anyway, so the rest of the ride went on without incident. We stopped halfway through to get the whole group together again. The leader asked if anyone was interested in riding 9 additional miles. I figured if I have to ride 150 in three weeks, I better be able to handle 29 right now, so I went. We had a headwind for most of the ride, and there were a few hills on our route as well. It was tough, since I'm not really where I should be training-wise. All of us on the ride were crawling along by the end of it, but we finished. Hopefully the ride will be easier (and free of bike malfunctions!) when I do it again next weekend.
After I was finished riding, I immediately headed to a yummy burger place so I could scarf down a huge cheeseburger and fries. I had just enough time to take it home and enjoy it there before I had to hop in the shower and run to Bed Bath & Beyond. Then, I headed to Miss Heather's wedding shower. It was relaxing and fun, and I managed to stuff myself with a ton of snacks, food and cake.
I headed home for a bit before a 6:30 haircut appointment, and of course as soon as I had pulled into my parking lot at 5:45ish, the hairstylist called to ask if I could come early.
When my haircut was finished, I felt bad for having Piper cooped up all day. I took her for a walk at this nice park near my apartment. We walked 2.25 miles. Then, I got some really great pictures of her that I'll have to post tomorrow.
I came home at about 8 p.m. and laid down on the couch. I wound up falling asleep. At 11, I got up and got ready for bed, then went to sleep.
Sunday morning, I got up early to go to a class at church for people who are interested in becoming members. I haven't decided if I'm going to join or just keep attending as a very (very) regular visitor. (Partly because I'll only live here for a year longer.) I figured it wouldn't be a bad idea to go, though, in case I decide I do want to join. Plus, the class teaches more about the church in general, which was the clencher in my decision to go.
After church, I came home and did a few things around my apartment. I took a 40-minute nap and then did more things around my apartment. Then, at about 5, I headed to Jeremy's to run 5 miles with him. We'd run the same path last Thursday, but we'd finished in 53 minutes (almost 54, actually), which was over a 10-min. mile. He wanted to beat that time, so we picked up our speed. Early into the ride, my calves were feeling much more tired than usual. I wanted more than anything to stop running. I tried to think of an excuse to quit. It wouldn't have done any good, though -- my car keys were in Jeremy's apartment, which he had the key for. What would I do, run back to his place and sit on the steps?
So I kept going, even though I didn't want to. By the end of the 5 miles, I was exhausted, but I had finished it. We had shaved almost 7 minutes off of our previous time. Those 7 minutes made a world of difference! Thursday, when we had finished, I felt fine. I wasn't out of breath, I had enjoyed the run, and I felt like I could have easily run farther. At the faster pace, though, I was gasping for air by the end (especially since we picked up the pace a bit more at the very end) and felt I couldn't have run any farther. I'd hated the entire run.
In one hour from the time we finished our run, I stretched, headed to W@l-Mart for grocery shopping for the week, headed home, took the world's quickest shower (had to hold off on washing my hair for later that night), gathered my laundry and laundry soap, took Piper out, and headed back to Jeremy's for dinner. I did laundry while we ate and watched the movie I Am Legend. It was all right, but not really my kind of movie.
The movie finished right about the same time as my laundry (10:30 p.m.), so I headed home and started getting a care package together for K, since I hadn't had time on Saturday. I sent him the crappiest care package every last week. It just had a bunch of snack food and a quickly scribbled, boring letter. This one had to be better.
I baked him some peanut butter cookies and wrote him a long letter. I added some new pictures and included some other snacks and things he'd requested I send. By the time I'd done all that, changed my sheets and put my laundry away, it was 3 a.m. I rushed through my real shower (washing my hair this time) and got ready for bed. At 3:30 a.m., I was finally able to go to sleep.
Sometime while I was baking last night, I noticed my left knee was swollen. It didn't feel like I'd injured it, but I could definitely feel when I put my weight on it that it was swollen. I was relieved when I woke up this morning to find that my knee was back to normal. The last thing I need through all this stuff I've got coming up (the MS150, a 15k) is a messed-up knee.
Only the swelling returned at work today. I have no idea what the deal is, but my best guess is that I just put too much pressure on it this weekend. A 29-mile bike ride followed a few hours later by a 2.25-mile walk and then a 5-mile run the next day is a liiiiiiiiitle bit more than the normal amount.
I'm thinking I'll take it easy on my knee for the next couple days. I'm hoping that will help the situation. Heck, even if a little rest doesn't help my knee, I'm pretty sure it'll help the rest of my body!
I had to get up early the next day, so we called it a night before midnight, which was awesome. I got up at about 8 the next day to ride in a cycling group. The MS150 is only three weeks away, so I had to get some good riding time in. I went on a 20-mile ride, and I was doing great. I was in the very front of our group with three or four guys. I was riding along just fine when I switched gears and managed to pop my chain off. I pulled to the side of the road, and the guys I was riding with rode on, unaware of what had happened. It was no big deal, though, since we were with a big group. I knew several packs were behind us, and someone in those groups would be able to help me out.
I stood patiently on the side of the road. I tried fixing my chain myself, but I wasn't quite sure what I was doing. I was worried I'd mess it up more than fix it, so I decided to wait for someone who knew what they were doing and could hopefully explain it to me so I could get myself out of this situation next time.
Well, the next group to ride past me was a group of 6 or 7 men. And they all really did just ride past me. "Awesome! Thanks for your help! Real chivalrous there!" I called after them.
I decided I'd have to be more vocal with the next big bunch of people. When the next group, which was probably about 15 or so cyclists, passed me, I yelled out, "Does anyone know how to fix a chain?" Everyone ignored me. I stood in disbelief. Jeremy called me right then (even when I'm on my bike, my phone is right by me in case K calls). I answered my phone since I was waiting for the next group, which was several hundred yards away from me. As I explained to Jeremy what was happening, I found myself on the verge of tears. If no one would help me fix my chain, what was I supposed to do? I was almost 10 miles away from my car. I'd either have to ask Jeremy to come get me and pray that my bike would fit in his car, since I certainly couldn't leave it, or I'd have to walk my bike 10 miles. Neither sounded good to me.
I hurried to get off the phone so I could catch the next group. As they rode past me, I called out, "Can someone please help me?" A man on a bicycle built for two said to me, "Do you need some help?"
I was relieved someone had finally answered. "Yes! Please!"
I was even more shocked when the man responded: "Sorry! Can't stop." Was he kidding me?! Why had he even bothered asking?
The eyes were just starting to spill over in frustration when I noticed a cyclist had turned around to come back to me. She asked if I needed help. "I guess no one else was gonna stop," she said. She told me she didn't know how to fix a chain, but she couldn't just ignore me. She'd try to help -- and she did. She fixed it.
Just then, the final stragglers of our group slowly rode past with one of the leaders of the group. He asked if everything was OK. I told him yes, finally, thanks to the woman beside me. I told the leader how everyone else had ignored me. The leader told me it wasn't really their fault, since they're not supposed to stop during the ride. He said it could be dangerous if three or four people tried to stop at the same time (hello? that's what hand signals are for!). I told the leader he didn't have to worry about that on this ride because everyone who was on it that day was a jerk except for the woman who helped me. (And I meant it!)
Anyway, so the rest of the ride went on without incident. We stopped halfway through to get the whole group together again. The leader asked if anyone was interested in riding 9 additional miles. I figured if I have to ride 150 in three weeks, I better be able to handle 29 right now, so I went. We had a headwind for most of the ride, and there were a few hills on our route as well. It was tough, since I'm not really where I should be training-wise. All of us on the ride were crawling along by the end of it, but we finished. Hopefully the ride will be easier (and free of bike malfunctions!) when I do it again next weekend.
After I was finished riding, I immediately headed to a yummy burger place so I could scarf down a huge cheeseburger and fries. I had just enough time to take it home and enjoy it there before I had to hop in the shower and run to Bed Bath & Beyond. Then, I headed to Miss Heather's wedding shower. It was relaxing and fun, and I managed to stuff myself with a ton of snacks, food and cake.
I headed home for a bit before a 6:30 haircut appointment, and of course as soon as I had pulled into my parking lot at 5:45ish, the hairstylist called to ask if I could come early.
When my haircut was finished, I felt bad for having Piper cooped up all day. I took her for a walk at this nice park near my apartment. We walked 2.25 miles. Then, I got some really great pictures of her that I'll have to post tomorrow.
I came home at about 8 p.m. and laid down on the couch. I wound up falling asleep. At 11, I got up and got ready for bed, then went to sleep.
Sunday morning, I got up early to go to a class at church for people who are interested in becoming members. I haven't decided if I'm going to join or just keep attending as a very (very) regular visitor. (Partly because I'll only live here for a year longer.) I figured it wouldn't be a bad idea to go, though, in case I decide I do want to join. Plus, the class teaches more about the church in general, which was the clencher in my decision to go.
After church, I came home and did a few things around my apartment. I took a 40-minute nap and then did more things around my apartment. Then, at about 5, I headed to Jeremy's to run 5 miles with him. We'd run the same path last Thursday, but we'd finished in 53 minutes (almost 54, actually), which was over a 10-min. mile. He wanted to beat that time, so we picked up our speed. Early into the ride, my calves were feeling much more tired than usual. I wanted more than anything to stop running. I tried to think of an excuse to quit. It wouldn't have done any good, though -- my car keys were in Jeremy's apartment, which he had the key for. What would I do, run back to his place and sit on the steps?
So I kept going, even though I didn't want to. By the end of the 5 miles, I was exhausted, but I had finished it. We had shaved almost 7 minutes off of our previous time. Those 7 minutes made a world of difference! Thursday, when we had finished, I felt fine. I wasn't out of breath, I had enjoyed the run, and I felt like I could have easily run farther. At the faster pace, though, I was gasping for air by the end (especially since we picked up the pace a bit more at the very end) and felt I couldn't have run any farther. I'd hated the entire run.
In one hour from the time we finished our run, I stretched, headed to W@l-Mart for grocery shopping for the week, headed home, took the world's quickest shower (had to hold off on washing my hair for later that night), gathered my laundry and laundry soap, took Piper out, and headed back to Jeremy's for dinner. I did laundry while we ate and watched the movie I Am Legend. It was all right, but not really my kind of movie.
The movie finished right about the same time as my laundry (10:30 p.m.), so I headed home and started getting a care package together for K, since I hadn't had time on Saturday. I sent him the crappiest care package every last week. It just had a bunch of snack food and a quickly scribbled, boring letter. This one had to be better.
I baked him some peanut butter cookies and wrote him a long letter. I added some new pictures and included some other snacks and things he'd requested I send. By the time I'd done all that, changed my sheets and put my laundry away, it was 3 a.m. I rushed through my real shower (washing my hair this time) and got ready for bed. At 3:30 a.m., I was finally able to go to sleep.
Sometime while I was baking last night, I noticed my left knee was swollen. It didn't feel like I'd injured it, but I could definitely feel when I put my weight on it that it was swollen. I was relieved when I woke up this morning to find that my knee was back to normal. The last thing I need through all this stuff I've got coming up (the MS150, a 15k) is a messed-up knee.
Only the swelling returned at work today. I have no idea what the deal is, but my best guess is that I just put too much pressure on it this weekend. A 29-mile bike ride followed a few hours later by a 2.25-mile walk and then a 5-mile run the next day is a liiiiiiiiitle bit more than the normal amount.
I'm thinking I'll take it easy on my knee for the next couple days. I'm hoping that will help the situation. Heck, even if a little rest doesn't help my knee, I'm pretty sure it'll help the rest of my body!
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Where the wind comes sweeping down the plains
A year or so ago during one of many trips K and I have made to Pennsylvania, I was talking to one of K's cousins. I don't remember what we were talking about, but K's cousin asked me about tornadoes.
"I had a friend who was in Oklahoma once when there was a tornado warning," K's cousin told me. "He said when the sirens went off, everyone immediately went inside. He said you guys take those things really seriously."
I can't imagine the look I must have been giving K's cousin as I wondered (a) if his friend had dreamed the whole experience, (b) where all the people around him were really from, or (c) where his friend really was when this event took place. If he actually was awake, fully conscious and in Oklahoma, then everyone around him must have been from out of state as well.
The last thing an Oklahoman does when tornado sirens go off is go inside -- unless you're a kid and your parents make you. Anyone who's a teenager or older immediately goes outside, and for some reason, we all get on the phone to talk to people outside our neighborhoods -- sometimes even in other towns. I don't know why, but it's just what almost all of us do.
If you live in Oklahoma long enough, you're bound to learn a lot about tornadoes. It just happens. Eventually, you get to where you can look out the window and announce very confidently that it's "tornado weather." Step outside, and you can be even more certain when the air just has this certain smell and feel to it. It's not something we can explain; we can just tell.
My first real encounter with a tornado came when I was in the third grade (there were a few before then, but not quite as close a call). In one night, seven tornadoes ripped through my hometown. My cousin and her mom were in town visiting my grandparents from Oklahoma City, and my brother and I were at their house as well. Because my grandma is always paranoid about the weather, we had the news on TV so we could keep up with the radar. Suddenly the cable went out, and it got eerily quiet.
I thought the storm was over. My grandma and aunt knew otherwise. They ordered my cousin, brother and me to go to the bathroom in the center of the house and get in the bathtub. We did as we were told. My aunt and grandma ran in and out of the tiny bathroom, tossing pillows and blankets on top of us.
My brother was the unlucky one to be at the front of the tub, and for some reason that night, the faucet decided to drip. As we were struggling to breathe under the smothering weight of a household worth of extra blankets and pillows, my poor brother was having to endure the likes of Chinese water torture.
We could hear Grandma and my aunt calling back and forth to each other from the front and back doors of Grandma's house. The storm got louder again, so their voices did too so they could hear each other as they stood watch on each side of the house. While this was going on, the rotating funnel (it hadn't touched the ground yet) passed directly over the house. My aunt, who was at the back door, was nearly sucked out of the house when it passed. For a few seconds, between the storm and the shouts of my grandma and my aunt, it was pretty loud.
But just as quickly as the panic had started, it was quiet again. This time, the storm was really gone.
I have dozens of similar stories from the rest of my childhood in Oklahoma. In every one of those experiences, each time the tornado sirens went off, my parents would usher my brother and me into the spooky, this-thing-is-definitely-haunted basement of our 100-year-old home, and then they'd immediately run outside to watch for the storm. Every. Single. Time.
A few weeks back, when I had to take my car to the shop to get my "oil light" taken care of, I was giving my personal information to the man who was checking in my car at the garage. He commented on the area code for my cell phone number. "Is that Oklahoma?" he asked.
"Heck yeah it is!"
The man told me he'd lived in Oklahoma "in that town Garth Brooks is from" (it's called Yukon) for a few months. He said he was very happy to move back to Dallas. I bit my tongue. The man surprised me with his next statement: "I just couldn't get any sleep there!"
I was confused. He continued: "The tornado sirens went off almost every night!" He told me he remembered one night in particular when he was staying in a hotel and the sirens went off. Every person staying there that night had to cram into the lobby. They were all a little nervous about the fact the tornado sirens were blaring, and they had no idea what to do in such a situation.
"There was this one guy, though," the man at the garage told me, "who stayed outside in the parking lot the whole time just watching the storm!" He looked at me as though he was waiting for me to react in horror, even shock at the least.
I just smiled. "I guarantee you he was from Oklahoma!"
"I had a friend who was in Oklahoma once when there was a tornado warning," K's cousin told me. "He said when the sirens went off, everyone immediately went inside. He said you guys take those things really seriously."
I can't imagine the look I must have been giving K's cousin as I wondered (a) if his friend had dreamed the whole experience, (b) where all the people around him were really from, or (c) where his friend really was when this event took place. If he actually was awake, fully conscious and in Oklahoma, then everyone around him must have been from out of state as well.
The last thing an Oklahoman does when tornado sirens go off is go inside -- unless you're a kid and your parents make you. Anyone who's a teenager or older immediately goes outside, and for some reason, we all get on the phone to talk to people outside our neighborhoods -- sometimes even in other towns. I don't know why, but it's just what almost all of us do.
If you live in Oklahoma long enough, you're bound to learn a lot about tornadoes. It just happens. Eventually, you get to where you can look out the window and announce very confidently that it's "tornado weather." Step outside, and you can be even more certain when the air just has this certain smell and feel to it. It's not something we can explain; we can just tell.
My first real encounter with a tornado came when I was in the third grade (there were a few before then, but not quite as close a call). In one night, seven tornadoes ripped through my hometown. My cousin and her mom were in town visiting my grandparents from Oklahoma City, and my brother and I were at their house as well. Because my grandma is always paranoid about the weather, we had the news on TV so we could keep up with the radar. Suddenly the cable went out, and it got eerily quiet.
I thought the storm was over. My grandma and aunt knew otherwise. They ordered my cousin, brother and me to go to the bathroom in the center of the house and get in the bathtub. We did as we were told. My aunt and grandma ran in and out of the tiny bathroom, tossing pillows and blankets on top of us.
My brother was the unlucky one to be at the front of the tub, and for some reason that night, the faucet decided to drip. As we were struggling to breathe under the smothering weight of a household worth of extra blankets and pillows, my poor brother was having to endure the likes of Chinese water torture.
We could hear Grandma and my aunt calling back and forth to each other from the front and back doors of Grandma's house. The storm got louder again, so their voices did too so they could hear each other as they stood watch on each side of the house. While this was going on, the rotating funnel (it hadn't touched the ground yet) passed directly over the house. My aunt, who was at the back door, was nearly sucked out of the house when it passed. For a few seconds, between the storm and the shouts of my grandma and my aunt, it was pretty loud.
But just as quickly as the panic had started, it was quiet again. This time, the storm was really gone.
I have dozens of similar stories from the rest of my childhood in Oklahoma. In every one of those experiences, each time the tornado sirens went off, my parents would usher my brother and me into the spooky, this-thing-is-definitely-haunted basement of our 100-year-old home, and then they'd immediately run outside to watch for the storm. Every. Single. Time.
A few weeks back, when I had to take my car to the shop to get my "oil light" taken care of, I was giving my personal information to the man who was checking in my car at the garage. He commented on the area code for my cell phone number. "Is that Oklahoma?" he asked.
"Heck yeah it is!"
The man told me he'd lived in Oklahoma "in that town Garth Brooks is from" (it's called Yukon) for a few months. He said he was very happy to move back to Dallas. I bit my tongue. The man surprised me with his next statement: "I just couldn't get any sleep there!"
I was confused. He continued: "The tornado sirens went off almost every night!" He told me he remembered one night in particular when he was staying in a hotel and the sirens went off. Every person staying there that night had to cram into the lobby. They were all a little nervous about the fact the tornado sirens were blaring, and they had no idea what to do in such a situation.
"There was this one guy, though," the man at the garage told me, "who stayed outside in the parking lot the whole time just watching the storm!" He looked at me as though he was waiting for me to react in horror, even shock at the least.
I just smiled. "I guarantee you he was from Oklahoma!"
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
The power of a phone call
I didn't hear from K last night. I'm pretty sure I didn't sleep very well as a result, and I felt like I was just dragging all day at work.
When someone you love goes through something dangerous, even if you know they're OK, it's hard to feel better about things until you see them again. It just gives you a bit of closure to see them before you and know that they're all right.
With the deployment, the visual closure is something I won't get for a long time. And in this case, I didn't even have a phone call or an email from K.
I emailed my family group person today to send her a link to some photos someone had sent me of soldiers in our husbands' battalion. When she emailed me back, she told me she had been able to talk to her husband for a few minutes on instant messenger last night. He had told her that they were on a communication blackout, which meant they wouldn't be able to call for a while. That meant I had no idea when I'd hear from K again.
I had prepared myself for a few more days without closure. I reminded myself that at least K was one of the ones who was OK -- it could definitely be much, much worse. Given the alternative, I was lucky to have to wait a few more days for closure. I could handle it.
And then my phone rang late this afternoon. It was K. He sounded tired, and he sounded a little stressed, but I would be too if I'd endured a few days of being shot at with rocke.ts and mort@rs. All in all, though, he sounded fine -- the same old K.
He told me he was indoors during every attack. He'd even been asleep when some of them started, since some came at about 5:00 a.m.
He told me the fact it had been so long since we'd last talked had added to his stress and fatigue. I know I always notice my steps are quite a bit heavier and I even feel like my posture starts to decline when it's been over a week with no communication from him. It's like the weight on my shoulders gets heavier and heavier once we hit a week since our last phone call. It's crazy how much lighter I feel once we talk.
After K told me a little more about the attacks (and the resulting increased security on base), we moved on to more enjoyable topics: Piper, updates on our lives, updates on friends' lives, care packages, R&R plans ... We were able to talk for about 50 minutes.
It felt better to know more about the attacks, rather than just the number of wounded soldiers and the number who died. It felt better to hear from K himself that he's fine. But most of all, it felt better to hear his voice, to catch up on each other's lives, and to realize that the bounce in my step had returned as I hung up the phone to go finish my day.
When someone you love goes through something dangerous, even if you know they're OK, it's hard to feel better about things until you see them again. It just gives you a bit of closure to see them before you and know that they're all right.
With the deployment, the visual closure is something I won't get for a long time. And in this case, I didn't even have a phone call or an email from K.
I emailed my family group person today to send her a link to some photos someone had sent me of soldiers in our husbands' battalion. When she emailed me back, she told me she had been able to talk to her husband for a few minutes on instant messenger last night. He had told her that they were on a communication blackout, which meant they wouldn't be able to call for a while. That meant I had no idea when I'd hear from K again.
I had prepared myself for a few more days without closure. I reminded myself that at least K was one of the ones who was OK -- it could definitely be much, much worse. Given the alternative, I was lucky to have to wait a few more days for closure. I could handle it.
And then my phone rang late this afternoon. It was K. He sounded tired, and he sounded a little stressed, but I would be too if I'd endured a few days of being shot at with rocke.ts and mort@rs. All in all, though, he sounded fine -- the same old K.
He told me he was indoors during every attack. He'd even been asleep when some of them started, since some came at about 5:00 a.m.
He told me the fact it had been so long since we'd last talked had added to his stress and fatigue. I know I always notice my steps are quite a bit heavier and I even feel like my posture starts to decline when it's been over a week with no communication from him. It's like the weight on my shoulders gets heavier and heavier once we hit a week since our last phone call. It's crazy how much lighter I feel once we talk.
After K told me a little more about the attacks (and the resulting increased security on base), we moved on to more enjoyable topics: Piper, updates on our lives, updates on friends' lives, care packages, R&R plans ... We were able to talk for about 50 minutes.
It felt better to know more about the attacks, rather than just the number of wounded soldiers and the number who died. It felt better to hear from K himself that he's fine. But most of all, it felt better to hear his voice, to catch up on each other's lives, and to realize that the bounce in my step had returned as I hung up the phone to go finish my day.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
A lot of stuff in very little time
Oh my gosh, I've been so busy lately! After one of my last posts, I got an awesome anonymous tip to check out Costa Rica for our vacation. I looked more into it, and I totally want to go there now. Since K and I went sky diving and swam with jellyfish!) in Hawaii last year, I want to do something neat and out of the ordinary on this vacation as well. In Costa Rica, there are two such activities we could do together: 1) river rafting (on fairly calm waters, so it's athletic but not quite so life-threatening, since I'm not the strongest swimmer) and 2) rainforest canopy tours. The second one is the one I'm most excited about. I don't think I know anyone who's ever ziplined through a rainforest before. It sounds scary, but awesome, and I am so game! Hopefully I can talk to K about it soon to see what he thinks.
Friday, my brother was in town for work for the race this weekend at Te.xas M.otor Speed.way. He was able to get my dad and his girlfriend passes to get into the pits all weekend, so they were down on Friday for that. I was jealous. They got to meet a lot of drivers. That night, I met my brother, dad and his girlfriend for dinner. With my brother being in North Carolina now, the four of us can't get together like that very often, so it was nice.
I intended to get up at 7:30 Saturday morning to officially begin my training for the M$150, which is one month from last weekend. I managed to turn off my alarm, though, I guess, because I woke up at 8:40, which was when I was supposed to be leaving. I needed to do several things for my bike before I could ride, so I skipped out on the scheduled ride. I went to go ride on a big trail on my own, but I realized when I was halfway there that I just didn't have time. I settled for a short ride around my neighborhood, and then I came home and got cleaned up.
I left my apartment and headed toward Te.xas M.otor Speed.way, giving myself plenty of time to get through traffic that wound up being nonexistent. I was supposed to pick my brother up at 1:30 to drive him to OK. He got out a bit late, so at about 2:00, we were on our way. He had a couple friends at the dirt track he used to race at back home, and they'd told him he could drive their cars that night. It had fallen through a couple days before, but my brother wanted to race so badly (He kept saying that April 8 would mark two years since he last raced) that he was going to OK just in case someone would let him drive their car in the races that night.
Go figure, no one offered. I was really sad for my brother because I know he's been aching to race again. It was great to see his face after the races, though, when one of the drivers looked at my brother, pointed at the car and said, "Get in." He got to drive around the track for a few laps, and when he was finished, he sat in the car for a couple minutes talking to us. It was obvious he wasn't ready to get out. I was glad for him that he was at least able to drive again, even if it was after the races were over.
By then, it was after 11 p.m. We headed back to the house and talked to Dad and his girlfriend for a bit before leaving after midnight to head back to Dallas. My brother had to leave with the team for the race track at 6:30 Sunday morning. I got him to his hotel at about 3. By the time I got home and got ready for bed, it was 4 a.m. I was exhausted.
I still made it up for church on Sunday, and I was really glad I did. The sermon was great, and there were two baptisms -- a baby and a grown man. I hadn't seen an adult baptized at this church before. I've got more to blog about that later.
Sunday afternoon, I was able to get out on my bike. I rode about 20 miles. It was uncomfortable. I have to get used to that seat again! That night, Jeremy and I got a good workout in too.
This morning, I mailed a care package off to K since I hadn't had time to make and send one on Saturday. I felt bad because I just kind of threw a bunch of snacks in, scribbled a letter and shipped it off. I've sent him a care package every week of this deployment. I almost skipped a week, but I felt really guilty, so I rushed to get one to him. It's just that that's all I can do for him as a wife right now. Surely I can find some time each week to make him a thoughtful package to brighten his day.
I stood in line for half an hour to mail the package this morning. When I got to work and checked my email, there was a message from the lieutenant colonel's wife. K's base got attacked again on Sunday. There were many injuries, and one soldier was killed. None of them were from K's battalion, but still ...
This is the second time in less than two months that K's base has been attacked. Logic says that it'll happen again. Which is scary and stressful.
I know it won't do me any good to panic or freak out about this. Still, my mind was on this all day.
K was lucky enough to not be one of the ones who was injured, and I know he's OK. I'll still feel better once I hear from him, but I have no idea when that'll happen. It could be tonight, since I haven't heard from him since this time last week, or it could be days from now if the military has blocked communication for rumor control.
I was able to get to the gym tonight and then run 4 miles with Jeremy. It felt good to be doing something physical to work out frustration, clear my head and benefit from the release of some much-needed endorphins.
After my workout and the rush and stress of these last few days, I'm also in some serious need of sleep. Hopefully I'll have some updates tomorrow because K calls me tonight. Fingers crossed.
Friday, my brother was in town for work for the race this weekend at Te.xas M.otor Speed.way. He was able to get my dad and his girlfriend passes to get into the pits all weekend, so they were down on Friday for that. I was jealous. They got to meet a lot of drivers. That night, I met my brother, dad and his girlfriend for dinner. With my brother being in North Carolina now, the four of us can't get together like that very often, so it was nice.
I intended to get up at 7:30 Saturday morning to officially begin my training for the M$150, which is one month from last weekend. I managed to turn off my alarm, though, I guess, because I woke up at 8:40, which was when I was supposed to be leaving. I needed to do several things for my bike before I could ride, so I skipped out on the scheduled ride. I went to go ride on a big trail on my own, but I realized when I was halfway there that I just didn't have time. I settled for a short ride around my neighborhood, and then I came home and got cleaned up.
I left my apartment and headed toward Te.xas M.otor Speed.way, giving myself plenty of time to get through traffic that wound up being nonexistent. I was supposed to pick my brother up at 1:30 to drive him to OK. He got out a bit late, so at about 2:00, we were on our way. He had a couple friends at the dirt track he used to race at back home, and they'd told him he could drive their cars that night. It had fallen through a couple days before, but my brother wanted to race so badly (He kept saying that April 8 would mark two years since he last raced) that he was going to OK just in case someone would let him drive their car in the races that night.
Go figure, no one offered. I was really sad for my brother because I know he's been aching to race again. It was great to see his face after the races, though, when one of the drivers looked at my brother, pointed at the car and said, "Get in." He got to drive around the track for a few laps, and when he was finished, he sat in the car for a couple minutes talking to us. It was obvious he wasn't ready to get out. I was glad for him that he was at least able to drive again, even if it was after the races were over.
By then, it was after 11 p.m. We headed back to the house and talked to Dad and his girlfriend for a bit before leaving after midnight to head back to Dallas. My brother had to leave with the team for the race track at 6:30 Sunday morning. I got him to his hotel at about 3. By the time I got home and got ready for bed, it was 4 a.m. I was exhausted.
I still made it up for church on Sunday, and I was really glad I did. The sermon was great, and there were two baptisms -- a baby and a grown man. I hadn't seen an adult baptized at this church before. I've got more to blog about that later.
Sunday afternoon, I was able to get out on my bike. I rode about 20 miles. It was uncomfortable. I have to get used to that seat again! That night, Jeremy and I got a good workout in too.
This morning, I mailed a care package off to K since I hadn't had time to make and send one on Saturday. I felt bad because I just kind of threw a bunch of snacks in, scribbled a letter and shipped it off. I've sent him a care package every week of this deployment. I almost skipped a week, but I felt really guilty, so I rushed to get one to him. It's just that that's all I can do for him as a wife right now. Surely I can find some time each week to make him a thoughtful package to brighten his day.
I stood in line for half an hour to mail the package this morning. When I got to work and checked my email, there was a message from the lieutenant colonel's wife. K's base got attacked again on Sunday. There were many injuries, and one soldier was killed. None of them were from K's battalion, but still ...
This is the second time in less than two months that K's base has been attacked. Logic says that it'll happen again. Which is scary and stressful.
I know it won't do me any good to panic or freak out about this. Still, my mind was on this all day.
K was lucky enough to not be one of the ones who was injured, and I know he's OK. I'll still feel better once I hear from him, but I have no idea when that'll happen. It could be tonight, since I haven't heard from him since this time last week, or it could be days from now if the military has blocked communication for rumor control.
I was able to get to the gym tonight and then run 4 miles with Jeremy. It felt good to be doing something physical to work out frustration, clear my head and benefit from the release of some much-needed endorphins.
After my workout and the rush and stress of these last few days, I'm also in some serious need of sleep. Hopefully I'll have some updates tomorrow because K calls me tonight. Fingers crossed.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Isn't this the most awesomest shirt ever?!
It's hilarious, and it's yellow. So the answer, of course, is yes.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
I wonder if I can find out where they film Coro.na commercials ...
At 1:30 this morning, I got a phone call from K. I hadn't heard from him since Monday of last week, so it was really nice to hear his voice. Amazingly nice.
Things have gotten a bit hectic near where he is. There were a few casualties, although none of them were from his battalion, and it didn't sound like they were too near him, but there was a commun!cation bl.ackout as a result. K tried to make it sound like things were fine for him and his area, since the attacks were not quite where he is and since in both cases, the in.surgents had specific targets that K wouldn't have been a part of. Still, though, hearing that he was close enough that the military felt a commun!cation bl.ackout was necessary (to avoid the spreading of rumors and to allow for appropriate notification of family members) for his area makes me a little nervous.
Like I've done many times before, I had made a list of things I didn't want to forget to tell K about or ask him. It's funny how the moment he calls, my mind blanks on everything I wanted to tell him because I'm excited to hear from him. It's kind of the highlight of my week.
We caught each other up with what's been going on in our lives since we last talked eight days ago. We talked about the April Fool's Day care package I sent him and the silly goodies I put inside (a whoopee cushion, water balloons and other silly toys). He wished me a happy anniversary-of-our-engagement day and apologized that he hadn't been able to call to catch me on the actual day, but he was only an hour and a half late. (I actually just realized that I forgot to tell him that we had passed our six-month anniversary. It's kind of funny that we both remembered the one-year mark of our engagement and forgot the six-month mark of our wedding, but like I said before, a year is obviously a bigger milestone than six months.)
We talked a little more about possibilities for our vacation. We decided we don't want to do a cruise because we don't want to be crammed on a ship with hundreds of other people. I looked up Sand.als Resorts, but their website said their required dress for dinner is elegant. That's nice for one or two nights, but sometimes I just want pizza and beer in shorts and a tank top, ya know?
K doesn't want to go somewhere "too exotic" like F!ji or something, but he doesn't want to just go to Flor!da either ("I can go there anytime."). However, he doesn't want to go anywhere too non-U.S., since he'll have been gone for 10 months by then.
What we want is warm weather, gorgeous beaches where we hope to sip on ice-cold alcoholic beverages (with fruit garnishes for me!), plenty of touristy activities (a bar or two, cute shopping areas, unique sights and activities), and plenty of fun shore excurs!ons (snorkeling, places to run or ride bikes, maybe even horseback riding on the beach).
It'll be fun to do research on all these romantic getaways. I've certainly been thinking about potential destinations a lot more lately. Places I'm going to look more into: Hawaii (probably Maui, since neither of us have been there and since we went to Oahu last year), Jamaica, the Virgin Islands, and the Turks and Caicos (specifically Providenciales, I think).
I realized when K and I were on the phone that twice in the last week (that I know of) I've had dreams about K and R&R -- in one dream, I was picking him up from the airport at the beginning of R&R; in the other, it was within the first couple days he was back home, but before we were leaving for the vacation. If the result of ramping up on the planning is such sweet, pleasant dreams like that, then that's more than enough motivation for me to get to researching!
Things have gotten a bit hectic near where he is. There were a few casualties, although none of them were from his battalion, and it didn't sound like they were too near him, but there was a commun!cation bl.ackout as a result. K tried to make it sound like things were fine for him and his area, since the attacks were not quite where he is and since in both cases, the in.surgents had specific targets that K wouldn't have been a part of. Still, though, hearing that he was close enough that the military felt a commun!cation bl.ackout was necessary (to avoid the spreading of rumors and to allow for appropriate notification of family members) for his area makes me a little nervous.
Like I've done many times before, I had made a list of things I didn't want to forget to tell K about or ask him. It's funny how the moment he calls, my mind blanks on everything I wanted to tell him because I'm excited to hear from him. It's kind of the highlight of my week.
We caught each other up with what's been going on in our lives since we last talked eight days ago. We talked about the April Fool's Day care package I sent him and the silly goodies I put inside (a whoopee cushion, water balloons and other silly toys). He wished me a happy anniversary-of-our-engagement day and apologized that he hadn't been able to call to catch me on the actual day, but he was only an hour and a half late. (I actually just realized that I forgot to tell him that we had passed our six-month anniversary. It's kind of funny that we both remembered the one-year mark of our engagement and forgot the six-month mark of our wedding, but like I said before, a year is obviously a bigger milestone than six months.)
We talked a little more about possibilities for our vacation. We decided we don't want to do a cruise because we don't want to be crammed on a ship with hundreds of other people. I looked up Sand.als Resorts, but their website said their required dress for dinner is elegant. That's nice for one or two nights, but sometimes I just want pizza and beer in shorts and a tank top, ya know?
K doesn't want to go somewhere "too exotic" like F!ji or something, but he doesn't want to just go to Flor!da either ("I can go there anytime."). However, he doesn't want to go anywhere too non-U.S., since he'll have been gone for 10 months by then.
What we want is warm weather, gorgeous beaches where we hope to sip on ice-cold alcoholic beverages (with fruit garnishes for me!), plenty of touristy activities (a bar or two, cute shopping areas, unique sights and activities), and plenty of fun shore excurs!ons (snorkeling, places to run or ride bikes, maybe even horseback riding on the beach).
It'll be fun to do research on all these romantic getaways. I've certainly been thinking about potential destinations a lot more lately. Places I'm going to look more into: Hawaii (probably Maui, since neither of us have been there and since we went to Oahu last year), Jamaica, the Virgin Islands, and the Turks and Caicos (specifically Providenciales, I think).
I realized when K and I were on the phone that twice in the last week (that I know of) I've had dreams about K and R&R -- in one dream, I was picking him up from the airport at the beginning of R&R; in the other, it was within the first couple days he was back home, but before we were leaving for the vacation. If the result of ramping up on the planning is such sweet, pleasant dreams like that, then that's more than enough motivation for me to get to researching!
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
One too many countdowns
When I was getting my massage on Saturday, I realized I had managed to forget a pretty big milestone. With all the countdowns and count-ups I'm doing right now, it makes sense that I'd manage to miss one. I just was surprised at the one I chose to miss.
I knew that last Thursday marked four months of this deployment, which means that we have under 11 to go.
I knew that last Sunday was a year from the day K and I got engaged day-wise. Date-wise, it's today.
I knew that the beginning of April would mean it's now five months until we get to see each other for K's R&R.
I knew that on March 22nd, Piper was officially 10 months old, which means that she's got two months left until she's a year old (and that big date comes two days before what was supposed to have been our wedding, before the deployment -- and then the Florida wedding -- entered the picture).
Which brings me to the number that slipped my mind: six.
On Saturday, March 29, it occurred to me that exactly one week before had been the six-month marker of K's and my wedding. And I forgot. I wanted to cry when I realized it.
I know, though, that I'd never forget our actual anniversary. Six months is a big marker, but it's not the same as reaching a year. It would have been one thing if we were living together or could see each other (heck, even talk on the phone!) to enjoy the fact we passed that mark. But honestly, when looking at all the other countdowns (and count-ups) above, that one really just seems a bit minor right now.
One thing that makes that count-up seem a bit more exciting is that six months from now when we reach our actual anniversary, K will be home on R&R. Just like the six-month anniversary, there won't be any emails or phone calls mentioning the importance of the date. We won't need either of them, though, because for that important milestone, we'll be together.
I knew that last Thursday marked four months of this deployment, which means that we have under 11 to go.
I knew that last Sunday was a year from the day K and I got engaged day-wise. Date-wise, it's today.
I knew that the beginning of April would mean it's now five months until we get to see each other for K's R&R.
I knew that on March 22nd, Piper was officially 10 months old, which means that she's got two months left until she's a year old (and that big date comes two days before what was supposed to have been our wedding, before the deployment -- and then the Florida wedding -- entered the picture).
Which brings me to the number that slipped my mind: six.
On Saturday, March 29, it occurred to me that exactly one week before had been the six-month marker of K's and my wedding. And I forgot. I wanted to cry when I realized it.
I know, though, that I'd never forget our actual anniversary. Six months is a big marker, but it's not the same as reaching a year. It would have been one thing if we were living together or could see each other (heck, even talk on the phone!) to enjoy the fact we passed that mark. But honestly, when looking at all the other countdowns (and count-ups) above, that one really just seems a bit minor right now.
One thing that makes that count-up seem a bit more exciting is that six months from now when we reach our actual anniversary, K will be home on R&R. Just like the six-month anniversary, there won't be any emails or phone calls mentioning the importance of the date. We won't need either of them, though, because for that important milestone, we'll be together.
Busy busy busy
This past weekend was a pretty hectic one. Friday night, I went out to a bar with Jeremy and couple other friends. Most of them were some of his friends from work, but a college friend I know through Jeremy was there with her fiance. We had a good time talking and hanging out until this awful band started playing at the bar, and we wound up text messaging each other for a while in an effort to keep communicating, since it required screaming to even be heard by the person next to you. That got old pretty quickly, so we wound up leaving, but I was glad for the early night.
I had planned on getting up early Saturday morning to go bike riding. When I woke up, though, I just wasn't feeling it. I wanted to sleep some more, and it looked like it had rained the night before. I could feel myself starting to get the first signs of a cold anyway (because I'm a genius and slept with my window open and two fans on one night last week), so I opted to skip out on riding and sleep instead.
I had plans to meet up with a co-worker friend to go wedding dress shopping anyway, so I think I made a good move. The dress shop we went to was great. I absolutely loved it and the people there. I found a couple dresses that I really liked. I don't know if either was necessarily "the" dress, but we'll see. They're definite possibilities.
After dress shopping, we had lunch and hung out a bit. We haven't hung out much outside of work, so it was fun to catch up -- especially since work has had the two of us going in different directions lately anyway.
I ran a couple errands -- including getting my fourth massage, which was really nice, but would have been much more enjoyable had I been able to breathe through my nose. I ran a couple more errands after the massage, then came home and collapsed for a 30-minute nap. I woke up an hour later (oops!) and hurried to change for Miss Heather's bachelorette party. We met up in a very exclusive spot for dinner, which was quite an experience. I immediately felt my small-town roots showing when the waiter got to our table and asked what kind of water we wanted. I know there's bottled or tap, and there's some crazy expensive kind that some people drink (Perignon?) and I was forced into trying once but found it utterly disgusting. But I had no idea how to answer that question. At this restaurant, I figured the "type of water" could have been cucumber water, spring water or even water with some kind of flower floating in it. I figured there was no telling. Luckily someone else answered for the whole table: "Tap is fine." (Easy enough!)
The menu was just as intimidating. I knew part of most everything on the menu, but then there would be something else thrown in that would make me a little unsure about that particular item, like throwing fig on a salad or something. I don't get too adventurous or exotic with my food, so I went with crab cakes (I had had them once before in my life, and they were good, and I knew this place wouldn't mess them up) and a Caesar salad. I figured the two probably weren't the best combo, but I didn't care. I chose the two items I could understand on the menu!
The food was delicious, and we had a really good time gabbing over dinner, yummy fresh bread and drinks. After dinner, we went to a hotspot bar for a bit. I was pretty tired from a full day, so I only stayed until about midnight or so, but it was really a good time. I'll have to post the pictures I got later. I'm sure Heather will post plenty herself.
I went to church the next day and then out to lunch with ER. It was good to catch up with her, since we've both been going crazy with our hectic lives lately. The afternoon was full of errands and straightening up around my apartment. That night, I went to see Brit in her new house. She and her boyfriend just bought a house together that's really just a couple miles from my place. I went to go check it out. It’s gorgeous – and big! I was really impressed -- and jealous. I can’t wait until K and I can have a house together! I'm happy for Brit, though. I like her boyfriend a lot.
I stayed at their place for a couple hours hanging out and then eating dinner, and when I left there, I immediately rushed home and changed into crappy clothes, then went straight to Jeremy's to help him paint his room. I helped out for a couple hours, and before I knew it, it was 10:30.
I came home and put a care package together for K so I could get it sent out this morning, since Friday night and Saturday morning had left me no time to get one made. I needed to give Piper a bath, but I decided to put it off until tonight.
Surprise of all surprises, when I woke up this morning, my cold was much worse. I felt awful. I guess I have just been running myself ragged. I decided to work from home today so I could get some rest and hopefully get to bed early. I've been ready for bed for a while, but I'm still getting things done around my apartment. It's about that time, though, and the Nyquil I took is kicking in. I'll try to post some pictures tomorrow. It's been a long time since I've done that!
I had planned on getting up early Saturday morning to go bike riding. When I woke up, though, I just wasn't feeling it. I wanted to sleep some more, and it looked like it had rained the night before. I could feel myself starting to get the first signs of a cold anyway (because I'm a genius and slept with my window open and two fans on one night last week), so I opted to skip out on riding and sleep instead.
I had plans to meet up with a co-worker friend to go wedding dress shopping anyway, so I think I made a good move. The dress shop we went to was great. I absolutely loved it and the people there. I found a couple dresses that I really liked. I don't know if either was necessarily "the" dress, but we'll see. They're definite possibilities.
After dress shopping, we had lunch and hung out a bit. We haven't hung out much outside of work, so it was fun to catch up -- especially since work has had the two of us going in different directions lately anyway.
I ran a couple errands -- including getting my fourth massage, which was really nice, but would have been much more enjoyable had I been able to breathe through my nose. I ran a couple more errands after the massage, then came home and collapsed for a 30-minute nap. I woke up an hour later (oops!) and hurried to change for Miss Heather's bachelorette party. We met up in a very exclusive spot for dinner, which was quite an experience. I immediately felt my small-town roots showing when the waiter got to our table and asked what kind of water we wanted. I know there's bottled or tap, and there's some crazy expensive kind that some people drink (Perignon?) and I was forced into trying once but found it utterly disgusting. But I had no idea how to answer that question. At this restaurant, I figured the "type of water" could have been cucumber water, spring water or even water with some kind of flower floating in it. I figured there was no telling. Luckily someone else answered for the whole table: "Tap is fine." (Easy enough!)
The menu was just as intimidating. I knew part of most everything on the menu, but then there would be something else thrown in that would make me a little unsure about that particular item, like throwing fig on a salad or something. I don't get too adventurous or exotic with my food, so I went with crab cakes (I had had them once before in my life, and they were good, and I knew this place wouldn't mess them up) and a Caesar salad. I figured the two probably weren't the best combo, but I didn't care. I chose the two items I could understand on the menu!
The food was delicious, and we had a really good time gabbing over dinner, yummy fresh bread and drinks. After dinner, we went to a hotspot bar for a bit. I was pretty tired from a full day, so I only stayed until about midnight or so, but it was really a good time. I'll have to post the pictures I got later. I'm sure Heather will post plenty herself.
I went to church the next day and then out to lunch with ER. It was good to catch up with her, since we've both been going crazy with our hectic lives lately. The afternoon was full of errands and straightening up around my apartment. That night, I went to see Brit in her new house. She and her boyfriend just bought a house together that's really just a couple miles from my place. I went to go check it out. It’s gorgeous – and big! I was really impressed -- and jealous. I can’t wait until K and I can have a house together! I'm happy for Brit, though. I like her boyfriend a lot.
I stayed at their place for a couple hours hanging out and then eating dinner, and when I left there, I immediately rushed home and changed into crappy clothes, then went straight to Jeremy's to help him paint his room. I helped out for a couple hours, and before I knew it, it was 10:30.
I came home and put a care package together for K so I could get it sent out this morning, since Friday night and Saturday morning had left me no time to get one made. I needed to give Piper a bath, but I decided to put it off until tonight.
Surprise of all surprises, when I woke up this morning, my cold was much worse. I felt awful. I guess I have just been running myself ragged. I decided to work from home today so I could get some rest and hopefully get to bed early. I've been ready for bed for a while, but I'm still getting things done around my apartment. It's about that time, though, and the Nyquil I took is kicking in. I'll try to post some pictures tomorrow. It's been a long time since I've done that!
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