Next time, we'll go for a happy medium between freaking out and playing it cool

Last Friday afternoon, AJ and I found ourselves at an event that definitely no one expected us to be at: a Sl!pknot concert. It wasn't just a Sl!pknot concert, though. It was a whole slew of pretty hardcore bands along with one other band that I wouldn't label as such. That's the one we were there to see: A!rbourne. (They pretty much sound exactly like AC/DC. What's not to love?)

When AJ and I found out A!rbourne was coming to Dallas for the May.hem Fest, we had to go. The concert started at 2 p.m. Friday and lasted into the night, ending with the two headlining bands, which were D!sturbed and Sl!pknot. AJ and I would stay through D!sturbed, and then we planned on leaving.

When we got to the concert, AJ and I quickly noticed how out of place we were. There were girls wandering around in lingerie and bikinis. There were people wearing scary masks (Sl!pknot fans, since the band wears masks). There were lots of mohawks, tattoos, piercings and black shirts. And then there was us.















































































AJ and I walked around and people watched as we waited for A!rbourne to go on. We found ourselves repeating the same things: 1) I'm never doing anything like this again. 2) Why are we here? 3) Why are all these people so angry?! 4) We must stick out like sore thumbs.

And evidently we did. We had a handful of people throughout the day ask us, "What are you doing here? Do you guys actually like this stuff? You look normal."

We made our way over to see A!rbourne at 4:15. They sounded just like their album. They were great -- energetic, fun ... drunk. The lead singer was slamming down Jaeg.er onstage. There was crowd-surfing near the stage, and people were smoking pot all over the place. AJ and I stood off to the side, a safe distance away and where we could enjoy a slight breeze in the 100-degree heat.

































After A!rbourne was done, AJ and I listened to just a few songs of a couple other bands before deciding to enjoy something a little more our style: ice cream cones. We found a nice spot to eat them where we could be in the shade and not worry about any vulgar perceptions that could be gathered by watching two girls eat ice cream cones.

We were almost finished with our cones when a guy walked up to us. I'd seen him standing by the ice cream stand for the last several minutes. He'd been talking to another guy and two girls in bikini tops. "Are you guys staying for the whole show?" he asked. AJ said that we were. I looked at her, confused. Our plan was to leave one song into the final act. "Would you want to come backstage after the show?" the guy asked.

"Um, yeah!" we both said immediately. (Smart, AJ!) The guy told us where to meet him after Sl!pknot's performance. He said he and his friend would come meet us and take us backstage.

"Oh my gosh!" I said. "That's so nice of you! ... Wait, what's your name?" He introduced himself as Mark. "Thanks so much for coming up to us!" I said. "How are you able to get us backstage?"

The guy said something about how he'd played there the night before.

"You're in a band? Which one?" I asked.

"Buc.kcherry."

"Oh my gosh! Shut. up. I love Buc.kcherry!" I gushed. "Wait, you guys played here last night? I didn't know this is where the concert was! I so wanted to come! You guys were with Motley Crue and Sixx A.M., right? I love Sixx A.M. too. Well, I mean, I only know one song of theirs -- not as many as I've heard of Buc.kcherry -- but I really like the song." (still me, still gushing)

"Are you really in Buc.kcherry?" I raised an eyebrow.

Mark told us he was the backup drummer. (They have those?) He turned around and waved his friend over. Before he could say anything, I blurted out to the friend, "Are guys really in Buc.kcherry?" He nodded and showed me a tattoo of the band's name on his forearm. He introduced himself as Bryan, a guitar player for the band. Mark showed us his backstage pass that also bore the band's name.

"That's so cool! My husband is in Iraq, and he loves you guys. Can we get a picture with you?" They obliged, and as soon as we took the picture, I looked at Mark again.

















"Oh my gosh, I love Buc.kcherry! ... Sorry. I'll stop saying that now."

Mark gave a small laugh. "It's OK. We're used to it."

I wasn't finished. "I'm so glad you came up to us! I mean, you're probably not anymore, but I am." (yes, I said that) We talked just a few more seconds, and before they walked off, Mark made sure again that we'd be meeting them after the concert.

As soon as they were gone, AJ said to me, "You can't freak out like that when we go backstage!" I wasn't too concerned, though. I'm always easily excited, and I think that's a good thing. It just sucks that I'm easily starstruck too. But seriously, what are the odds that a rockstar (Slight exaggeration, since he's the backup. But still!) is going to come up to us? I was completely caught off guard!

I immediately called my brother to brag about what had just happened. I had to cut our call short when I realized we were walking by A!rbourne! AJ and I headed over to them to say we'd enjoyed their show. The lead singer (in the black) asked us if we'd gotten our dresses at the same store. (Hello? Mine's a shirt!)

















We chatted with them for a few minutes, took a picture, and headed to the main stage to see Dragonforce, a band whose fame has grown in part due to their notoriously difficult song on Gu!tar Hero. AJ and I were watching the show and minding our own business when two people came up behind us and said hello. When we turned around, we were surprised to see Mark and Bryan. They told us they'd wanted to see what the event was like "from back here" (read: the lawn). They stood with us for a while (I was calmer this time), and before they walked off, they made sure we knew the right area to meet them after the show.

D!sturbed was up next. They were really good. I'll probably wind up seeing them with K once he's back, since he really likes them. They were pretty patriotic, too, which I didn't know before. Bonus points!

Then, Sl!pknot came on. They put on a good show, I guess, but it was definitely not our thing. After the show, we finished up talking to a few people we'd met around us, and then AJ and I headed toward the area Mark had told us to go. As we walked, I told AJ that there would either be 18 billion girls there, since we surely weren't the only ones they'd invited, or there would be no one there because we'd be the only ones who fell for it.

When we got to the backstage entrance, it was pretty empty. The concert had been over for several minutes, though, so I was hoping maybe we'd just missed the crowd. There were about 6 or so people (guys and girls) standing in the general area. AJ stopped several yards away from the gate. I tried to get her to move up to the entrance, but she said, "Let's wait here. They'll come for us."

I wondered aloud if we were in the right spot. Should we have been on the other side of the stage? What if they missed us? Maybe we should ask the guy at the gate if this is the right side.

But just a minute or so after we'd gotten there, the gate opened, and there stood Mark and Bryan. Bryan raised his shirt at the small crowd to our right. He and Mark stepped back inside, and the security guard closed the gate.

My jaw dropped. "Do you think they saw us?"

"Yeah ... I'm pretty sure they did."

"Really? What if they didn't? Surely not. I don't think they did," I said.

A few minutes later, the gate opened again. Mark and Bryan peered out. It was hard to see inside, since the gate opened toward us, but I could see a bikini-clad girl next to the guys. The door wasn't open long before it closed again. The event officials were clearing us out so they could lock up.

AJ and I were in disbelief. How could they do that? They were backstage laughing at us. "We're the only ones who fell for it," I said.

I headed toward the backstage entrance gate. "Where are you going?" AJ asked.

"I'm going to say bye," I said. I had more to say to them than bye, but I didn't want to just walk out of there. AJ did.

"I don't have anything to say to them," she said. We were both very frustrated. Angry.

We had wanted to leave the show early. We stood there through Sl!pknot so we could go backstage. But they'd lied to us. Why?! It was so mean!

Saturday and Sunday were pretty busy for me, so Monday was the first day I really had to think about the whole thing again. It still just didn't make sense. I mean, if the guys had found us once, I wouldn't have been that surprised by what happened. But they had found us twice! Why would they waste so much time if they'd planned to do something that mean?

And then I realized: They didn't see us.

AJ was in dark gray. I was in navy blue. We were several yards back from the backstage entrance. It wasn't dark where we were, but it wasn't exactly well-lit either. Considering they were in a well-known band and had the day off to watch (and hang out with) other well-known bands, they'd probably had a few drinks or who knows what else, which would probably make it even harder to see things clearly when they're far away. They'd come to the gate twice while we were there. I'd waved the first time, and they didn't wave back.

They hadn't seen us.

It really sucks to know that if we'd just gone up to the gate, we'd have been able to go backstage. Pretty sure I'll never make that mistake again (like I'll ever find myself in that situation again!)!

At the same time, it's much better now to know that the guys didn't just blow us off. I know K was really relieved that we didn't make it back there with Buc.kcherry too. So I guess it worked out the way it was supposed to.

Plus, this way, I still get to like Buc.kcherry. And it makes for a pretty cool story!

Send it already!

I'm a bit behind on telling you about my weekend. It was a pretty big one. So big, in fact, that I have to write a separate post for Friday. And Saturday. And Sunday.

Only I have to post pictures, too, to go along with Friday and Sunday. And posts with pictures always take a bit longer for me to put up.

What's been on my mind the last two days, though, hasn't had much to do with last weekend.

K told me last week that his branch manager said he'd send out a list of openings for different bases on Monday -- as in yesterday. Which meant that Monday -- as in yesterday -- we'd have at least some sort of idea of where we could be living this time next year!!!

So imagine how frustrated the two of us were when there was no email yesterday from the branch manager. Both of us have been checking K's email constantly (he gave me his login info yesterday so I could keep checking) for the last two days, but there's still no word.

Doesn't this guy know how exciting this news is? You'd think he would, but obviously he has no idea. Because if he had any clue how freakin' anxious we were about getting it, he'd know that he didn't have to go to such great lengths to build suspense.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got an email account to check (for the fourth time in an hour).

This* is why I married him!

(helpful info: My birthday is Aug. 17. K's is Aug. 26. Also, he calls me his "wiffle.")

To: K
From: Me
Subject: yay birthdays!

OK, so I thought of other things that I want that might be cool for my birthday. :)

1) Custom tennis shoes from Luke's Loc.ker. Obviously, we'd have to get these when you're here so I can get them actually custom-fitted. I'm pretty sure no matter what, I'll wind up making a trip out there to get some shoes, since I'll be doing the half-marathon in November.

2) an OU camping chair -- because who doesn't need one of those?!

3) http://www2.victoriassecret.com/pink/pink_cli_0620/OSPNKCLIZZZ.cfm?cliSchoolId=
You know which school to pick. I like the tote bag. :)

What do you want for YOUR birthday?

_____________

To: Me
From: K
Subject: RE: yay birthdays! - what I want

...My sexy-ass wiffle sitting in an OU camping chair; holding a Victoria's Secret totebag containing a six-pack of Lager, bottle of Asti Spumante and Reese's PB Cups; and wearing NOTHING but custom-fit sneakers, ready for a "FULL marathon!!!"

...or...i could think about it a little more and get back to you. Kinda leaning towards the former, though! Love you!

K


(*He makes me laugh.)

(Photo) Diary of a 15k

Before

The group
















Topeka and her husband
















I was a little self-conscious of the crazy amount of crap I evidently require to run: left knee brace, right knee brace, a heart-rate monitor (watch & chest strap you couldn't see), an iPod, AND a runner's belt stocked with a water bottle and the bare essentials -- sport beans, two Cl!f bars, and my digital camera. (bare essentials, people!)





















Topeka gettin' her stretch on





















The starting line. So many people!






















During

Pictures that are cool enough to post, but not cool enough for me to spend $6 apiece on



































After

Me with Jeremy, right after we finished the run















AJ came to cheer us on and take pictures as we crossed the finish line. She got so excited, though, that the best photos came out after we crossed. :)















I FOUND A SPRINKLER!!! It was heaven.





















Done and done!

Even the good ones are jackasses sometimes

K called me this afternoon. We caught up on each others' weeks, and I told him how my 15k went yesterday. I forget what we were talking about, but somehow I mentioned Elle and how she got married on Friday.

That made me think of Heather and her wedding and the conversations Elle and I each had with Heather's husband B on the morning of their ceremony. I was laughing to K about how Elle and I had both talked to B without thinking about the fact it was such a big day for him. We were each being a little silly, and when he gave us short, quick, un-B-like responses, we realized he was nervous.

I remembered the morning of K's and my wedding day and how the photographer had commented that I was more calm than the boys. So I asked K if he was nervous that day. He said something along the lines of, "Not really. I mean, I was excited nervous, but not nervous like regretful nervous. That didn't happen until after."

I gasped and didn't say anything. "No, I'm just kidding. I don't really mean that," he said. Only it had already hurt.

I knew he was joking when he said it, but still. I hate jokes like that. My mom used to always throw the "d-word" in my dad's face when they'd get in fights. I told K I never wanted to do that -- even as a joke. I think once after we got engaged, we were joking around with each other and he took it one step further by saying something (jokingly) about rethinking the engagement. I told him I didn't like those jokes, and he never said anything like that again.

I considered immediately telling K that his joke had really upset me, but considering that I didn't know how much longer we had on the phone, I didn't want to bring down the rest of the conversation.

Maybe it wouldn't have stung as much if he'd been here, if we got to talk more than once or twice a week. If it hadn't been almost 8 months since we last saw each other. If spouses didn't cheat on each other during deployments. If he wasn't on the other side of the planet, and I wasn't keeping myself insanely busy with work and working out just to make the time go faster until this deployment is over.

But we are where we are and in the situation we're in, and it did sting.

*************************
UPDATE

It's been a few hours now, and I feel a lot better. What's funny is I was just thinking about the conversation again and kind of replaying it in my mind, and I remembered that when K had said, "I'm kidding. I don't really mean that," he followed that with, "My only regret is that I didn't do it sooner." I was just so caught off guard by his comment (even though it was a joke) that he probably could've told me he'd won the lottery and it still wouldn't have registered with me.

I'm still not OK with the relationship jokes, but at least I'm not going to be in a total funk until the next time we get to talk.

I did it!!!

Today was the big 15k. I've eaten not much other than chicken & pasta since Wednesday night. I cut myself off from dairy after my bagel yesterday morning (gotta love the cream cheese!). I didn't drink any pop yesterday -- just a few glasses of juice and a ton of water. I got up this morning at 5 a.m. so we could all get to the start of the race before there was no parking for miles. (Kinda sounds like we were prepping for a marathon, huh?)

But it was all worth it. I finished the 15k, and I ran every. single. step of it. I took it slow through the whole thing. I finished the 9.3-mile run right at an hour and 40 minutes. It was a little slower than a 10-minute mile, which I'd like to have done, but I'm not disappointed. My big goal was to finish. And considering that until this morning, the longest distance I'd run at one time was 6 miles, I'd say I did a pretty good job.

My shiny new heartrate monitor told me I burned 1,063 calories. Pretty sure I'm at a deficit for the day, since my breakfast was scrambled eggs and an English muffin. I'm off to go eat junk now -- guilt-free! Pizza, anyone?

You know you're pathetic in the kitchen when ...

My big 15k is coming up tomorrow morning, so to properly prepare myself, I started "carbing up" on Wednesday night. I stepped out of my comfort zone and grilled some chicken. I made fettuccine, which I'd never done before. As for the sauce, I went the store-bought route (baby steps, people) with some Alfredo sauce and some organic, specially flavored (although I can't remember what the special flavor was) marinara sauce.

Wednesday night, I topped the chicken with Muenster cheese, and then I used my marinara sauce to top it all off. It turned out pretty decent, but I learned I prefer plain, old-fashioned, regular marinara.

Last night, I heated up the Alfredo sauce. I added some broccoli to the pasta and chicken, and I topped it with the Alfredo. It was pretty dang good, if I do say so myself.

Just for the fun of it, I sent K a picture of both meals after I'd fixed my plate. I bake, not cook, so this was pretty big for me. I was able to talk to K on the phone last night, and he commented on the pictures. "Good for you, babe!" he said. "I'm proud of you."

"Wow ..." I said. "That's really sad. I didn't do anything! I just cooked the pasta. I didn't season the chicken with anything, and I bought the sauce."

"That's better than I've done in a long time! I haven't cooked in months!"

"K! You're in Iraq. You don't even have a kitchen to cook in."

He laughed. I shook my head. I'm pathetic. It's time to learn how to cook.

I write really long posts

so here's a break -- pictures I promised you over a month ago (and a few others)!

TAHOE!!!
(OK, so I thought there were going to be many more of these, but too many pictures I took had to do with the wedding. And those are for Miss Heather to post when she gets them from her photographer!)


Driving through Nevada on the way to Tahoe
















My delightfully tacky hotel room, which I will totally stay in again!
















I found this pretty beach by accident!
















Elle and me after the wedding

















One of my very favorite pictures from the trip. I only wish I'd put the top back down for this photo.

Oh, well ... I'll just have to go back and do it right!


















The Fourth of July celebration with friends

Finally, endorphins from running!

There was a N.ew Ba!ance commercial several months ago that talked about the love/hate relationship people often have with running. I thought the commercial was brilliant. I've never been too fond of running. I always felt the hate side so much stronger and so much more often, but that commercial stood out to me because it was so perfect for its target audience.

Back in April, I was running several times a week with Jeremy, Topeka and her husband. We ran at least 3 miles most nights. Sometimes we ran 4, sometimes even 5 miles. Once or twice, we ran 6. So when I stumbled upon a 15k that took place in mid-July, it seemed perfectly doable. Surely I'd love running by then! I signed up. I sent the info to Jeremy, Topeka and her husband. They all signed up.

And then life picked up. Vacations, hectic work schedules and who knows what else got in the way. There were weeks where we didn't run as much. When we did get back into it, we stuck with 3- and 4-mile runs. Now, we find ourselves in the week of the 15k, and none of us feel prepared.

Jeremy and I each wanted to get a good run in this weekend, so we decided to run 6 miles on Sunday morning. Very soon into our run, I was hating it. Every single step of it. I hadn't eaten anything because I didn't want to literally eat and run. I carried water with me to avoid dehydration, and I could just feel the water sloshing in my stomach as I ran. I envied people who passed us on morning walks. They were so much smarter than us. They looked happier. Drier.

I began doubting every single physical activity I do. Why do I feel it's all necessary? Why can't I just stick to the gym like normal people? Why do I think I have to take it further by cycling and running so much -- especially when I hate running? What am I trying to prove?

Finally, even though we had finished a large portion of the run, I let my mind win. I stopped running. Jeremy turned around. "C'mon," he sad. "We've only got a mile and a quarter left."

Only?

So I picked it up again, still hating every step. It was hot. Not as hot as it could have been, but still. I kept scrolling through songs on my iPod. None of them were what I wanted to hear. A few blocks later, I stopped running again. Jeremy was several yards in front of me before he turned around to see me giving up. I just waved him on.

I walked along the quiet, empty street. It was nice to feel like I had it to myself. I could finally feel a slight breeze. My iPod was playing a great song for the moment, and I realized I hadn't enjoyed walking that much in a long time.

I let myself walk for a little over a block before I made myself start running again. My keys were in Jeremy's apartment, and I didn't want him to have to wait for me. I walked one more time later on, but only for a few yards. As much as I didn't want to keep running, I just wanted to be done with the whole thing.

When I reached the end of our route, I was so done with the thought of running that I didn't even care to be frustrated or disappointed in myself for stopping so close to the end. In fact, I was pretty sure I was skipping the 15k altogether (Partly because my brother will be in OK this weekend, and if it weren't for the 15k, I'd go home on Friday to spend time with him. Hey, at least it's a good excuse!). Jeremy told me my time was somewhere around 1:03 -- just over a 10-minute mile.

Tonight, I didn't want to run. Jeremy was working late, though, so I didn't want to go to the gym either. I've gotten used to working out with a buddy. I called Topeka's husband, since Topeka was working late too, and we decided to go for a 5-mile run. At the last second, I decided to leave my iPod in the car.

We set out on our run with a nice, slow pace. It started off great. We talked about quite a few things, and sometimes we ran in silence. I was surprised at how quiet it was when we rounded a corner in one neighborhood. It didn't even feel like we were in Dallas. I could hear only the soft sounds of our footsteps on the asphault -- no cars, no planes, just footsteps. It was really nice and peaceful. My legs felt good, my lungs felt good, and I was really surprised at how pleasant the run was.

We soon found ourselves nearing the end of the run. With about a mile left, I asked Topeka's husband if he was ready to pick up the pace. We sped up, and as we rounded our last corner, I sped up even more. I sprinted for those last few yards, and it felt awesome. I have never sprinted like that before. I wasn't gasping for breath; I wasn't praying for the end. I felt like I was going pretty fast. It felt awesome.

We were both feeling great. Neither of us were wearing a watch, but we were able to estimate our time pretty well. I think we completed the run in about 48 minutes. I felt like I could've run farther easily. I'd never felt so good after a run. It was the closest thing to a runner's high I'd ever experienced. I'm really wondering if that's actually what it was. (I guess they DO exist!) "Why can't running always be like this?" I asked Topeka's husband.

So now I'm actually looking forward to Saturday and feeling much more confident about it. I've decided I'm not crazy for the cycling and running I've been doing to keep myself occupied. And I realized I might still have a snowball's chance at not completely hating running.

It's amazing what a difference a day (and food!) makes!

I bet at least some of you DID see this one coming ...

Saturday was the big day: dress shopping with Mom. We'd talked about it a few times last week making sure we had things planned out.

I talked to Mom early last week to see when she was coming down so I knew when to schedule appointments. She said she was thinking of leaving her house at 10. I told her I wanted to get an early start so the stores wouldn't be crowded. If she left at 10, she wouldn't be here until 12:30 or 1. I told her she was more than welcome to stay at my place Friday night so we could get an earlier start on Saturday. She said she'd just leave earlier.

I scheduled appointments at a couple dress shops and made plans to go to a couple more. I wanted my mom to see the two dresses I'd liked before, and we'd move on from there. I emailed all the details to my mom on Thursday morning, and we talked that night. I told her our first appointment was at noon and that the shop was 10 or 15 minutes from my apartment. I told her I'd chosen a few dresses at a few shops, so we could try on just those or even try on more -- whatever she wanted to do.


Starting off on the wrong foot

On Saturday morning, I woke up around 9:15 and started cleaning my apartment to make it spotless and getting ready for the day. I called my mom around 10:00. She was just leaving. I reminded her that our first appointment was at noon and that I thought she was going to be here around 11:30.

"I thought you said I didn't need to be there until 1," she said. She also said she thought it didn't take that long to get to Dallas.

"Mom, you're coming from another state," I said. I told her I thought it took 2 1/2 or 3 hours at least. I was frustrated, but I kept my cool. There wasn't much that could be done. We got off the phone, and I called to move back our two appointments.

About 10 minutes later, my mom called me back. She apologized for starting the day off late. She had really thought it wouldn't take that long to get to Dallas and that she wouldn't need to be here until the afternoon.

"But why would I have told you that you were welcome to stay here on Friday if you didn't need to be here until the afternoon?" I was still staying calm.

She apologized again, saying she was "so ... very sorry" for getting things off on the wrong foot. She said it was her fault and that she should've read my email more closely the night before.

"Mom, it's no big deal. I'm not mad," I said. "I'm annoyed, but I'll get over it. It's not that big of a deal. I already called and told the places where we had appointments that we'd be late."

My mom asked if I wanted to do this some other time. I told her I didn't have some other time. This was my last free Saturday until October, really. She said she could take off work sometime during the week, and we could try it then. "Yeah, but then I'd have to take off work." (I'm trying to roll over as much vacation as possible to next year. Between K's returning from deployment, the "real" wedding, the honeymoon, moving with K [!!] to our new base, and the umpteen billion weddings we'll have to go to next year [chalk those up to the deployment -- talk about a make-or-break event!], I'm not sure I'll have enough as it is, even with the fact I get 20 personal days a year.). I told my mom it was up to her, though, and that we could do whatever.

"No, you tell me. It's your decision," she responded. We did that a few times before I finally said, "Just keep driving. We planned on doing this today."

Around 11:30, my mom called to tell me her GPS said she'd be at my place at 12:30. "Do you want me to just meet you at the first shop? You could just tell me where it is," she said.

It didn't seem like a good plan. I thought it would be better for us to just ride together from the beginning. Plus, she'd been to my apartment before. It's not hard to get to. We'd just stick to that.


The problems continue

At about 12, I had to run a quick errand near my apartment. I called my mom to make sure I wouldn't miss her while I was out. When she picked up the phone, I asked where she was.

"I don't know," she said. She told me her GPS had had her turn around a couple times. I asked why she hadn't called me. "Well, I figured the GPS would be right. They update these things all the time."

"No," I said, "they don't." I gave her K's spiel about how you can't solely rely on GPS -- and why would you when you know someone who can give you directions with 100% confidence? "I've lived here for three years. Why didn't you just call? It's easy to get to Dallas. You just stay on 75. That will take you right into downtown if you want." I told my mom at least three times in that conversation that she would hit the exit on 75 for the highway she needed to get to my apartment. I told her she didn't need to exit until then. She told me she couldn't talk to me and drive at the same time, and she hung up on me.

I was really starting to lose my cool with her. It was bad enough that she left late, but the fact she was driving around in circles miles away from my apartment when she could've just called me to get back on track made it even worse.


Are you seriously still not listening to me?

Mom called me about 10 minutes later. "I think we need to rethink the way I'm coming," she said. "This isn't gonna work. There are cars everywhere. I can't even move."

I was confused. I didn't think they were doing any construction where she would be coming from. "Where are you?" I asked her.

Imagine my frustration when she told me (after I'd told her MULTIPLE TIMES in the previous conversation how to get to the right highway) that she was on another highway a ways north of the one she knew she needed to exit on. Before I knew it, I blurted out, "How the f*$k did you wind up on 121? I told you not to exit 75."

She told me her GPS had said she was supposed to turn. "I'm not even sure I'm on 121," she said. "There are so many cars around that I can't even see." She was definitely on 121. It's a highway with stoplights. It's pretty much a parking lot.

I asked my mom for any sort of indication where she was. If she could tell me what intersection she was at, I could tell her how to get back on track to get to my place. She told me she couldn't see anything for all the cars. (Seriously?) Finally, she saw a sign that told her [Major Road] was three-quarters of a mile ahead. "That's good!" I said. "When you get to that light, turn left. Then stay on that road until you hit the next big intersection. Then, I want you to call me so I can tell you where to go from there."

My mom started griping at me for talking to her like a child. She said I was cussing and yelling at her. "Mom," I said," I only said one cuss word. It was a bad one, and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it. I haven't been yelling at you. I yelled that one sentence, but that was it." She went on to say I was talking to her like a sailor. "Mom, I said f*$k one time. One time. That's one cuss word. That's not talking to you like a sailor."

"It's not that big of a deal that I'm late!" she said. She was starting to get emotional. "Just call the shops and tell them. It's not open-heart surgery. I'll get there!" She repeated "it's not open-heart surgery" about three times in the conversation, to the point I finally cut her off and said, "OK, OK. I get it. I get it."

I asked her again where she was. It had been at least five minutes since I told her she needed to turn left. "Have you turned on [Major Road] yet?"

"I can't turn left there. I'm in the wrong lane." How could she not have gotten over? She'd had plenty of time! "Well I don't know how I'm supposed to get over there!" she responded. "There are so many cars I can't even move!"

"Mom! You have to turn on your blinker and butt your car into their lane. They won't just let you in. They don't drive nice here. You have to push your way in there."

My mom told me again to quit talking to her like a child. She again said she couldn't talk to me and drive at the same time. She hung up on me. Again. Awesome.


The peak of the drama

My phone rang again about 10 minutes later. "Where are you?" I answered.

I can't remember if she was crying when we got off the phone in the last conversation -- knowing her, she probably was -- but I could tell she was crying a bit by this point. "I'm in some parking lot."

"OK, are you at an intersection?"

"I don't know. I just pulled off in some parking lot."

I was really losing my cool. "All right, you gotta work with me here. I can't help you get here if all I know is you're in a parking lot that may or may not be off of [Major Road]."

"Well, I turned on [Major Road], but then the GPS started --"

"YOU'RE STILL LISTENING TO THAT THING?! Mom, I told you to turn left and keep going to the next intersection!" (really losing my cool now)

"I'm just going to turn around," she said.

"Mom, that's stupid. Just tell me where you are."

"Well, I turned on [Major Road], and then I turned off into a parking lot. It's just confusing and there were so many cars around. I can't drive and talk to you at the same time. I didn't know where I was, so I just pulled into this big parking lot."

I tried to calm down. "OK, that's good. That's good that you pulled over. Do you see any signs around?"

My mom already had her mind made up, though. She was still babbling about me talking to her like a child and cussing at her. I reminded her I'd said one cuss word. She said, "I don't let anyone else talk to me like that. Why would I let you?"

"I don't know, Mom," I said cooly.

"Why do you have to be so hateful?" she asked, crying more.

"Why do you have to be so emotional?" I asked her. "For the first 20 years of my life, you were tough. You could be mean even. You're big thing was, 'If you can dish it, you better be able to take it too.' You could dish it, but you could take it. And now? You can't handle anything! Someone says hardly anything to you, and you get all emotional! I don't even know you anymore!"

"Well I'm sorry if I get offended when my child says f*$k to me. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it's not that big of a deal. Maybe I should ask around and see if anyone else I know has kids who talk to them like that. I bet they don't."

I was tempted to tell my mom while she was at it to ask how much trouble those people's kids gave them in high school -- how many times they snuck out, got drunk, got detention, got arrested or whatever else my brother and I never did. I'm sure they'd much rather have their almost-25-year-old child say "f*$k" to them than any of those things.

My mom told me again that she was turning around and going home. This was kind of funny to me, since she had no idea where she was and seemed determined to rely on a stupid GPS system that clearly had no idea how to navigate the highways in Dallas. "Best of luck," I said.

The conversation only lasted a few minutes longer, and it didn't get any better. It also kind of just repeated the things from above. I was frustrated and annoyed, but I honestly wasn't that surprised. This is my mom for ya.


Not surprised ... and realizations

When I get really frustrated, I cry. I held it together until I talked to my dad and told him what was going on. I told him everything -- even my 121 comment. "You said that?" he asked.

"Yeah, and I shouldn't have, I know. But seriously, how the f*$k did she wind up on 121?"

My dad laughed. "True." He wasn't surprised my mom had turned around either.

I was so annoyed about the whole thing. My mom has been to Dallas and in the suburb I live near hundreds of times. How can she just forget how to get here? Why wouldn't she just listen to my directions instead of the stupid GPS?

After a while, I couldn't help but feel bad that my mom had gotten so upset. I shouldn't have gotten so frustrated at her and cussed at her, but I couldn't help it.

I realized part of the reason I get so frustrated with her is because she's just so emotionally weak now. When my brother and I were little, she really was mean a lot of the time -- especially to my brother. So many times when she and my dad fought, she'd shout at him, "Maybe we should just get a divorce" (my brother and I heard her say that many, many times). When my dad finally told her he really did want a divorce (I was 19 then), she softened. Overnight.

So now that we're adults and we don't have to deal with her every day, she's all nice? What wonderful timing. So I get annoyed when she starts breaking out the tears and acting like some softie. Whatever. I know better. My mom was a bitch. Really. How can you completely transform overnight (trust me, it was overnight) from such a huge bitch to someone who cries over everything? It's a little melodramatic. Unbelievably melodramatic, actually.

Anyway, I didn't let myself waste too many tears over it. A minute or two, and I was done. A little while later, I sent my mom a text message saying I was sorry I had gotten so frustrated at her.


Funny how things work out

Somewhere in there, Heather sent me a text message. I'd given her a few updates throughout the morning via phone calls and texts, and she knew my mom wasn't coming. She asked if I was still going to the appointments. And then she offered to come with me. She was eating lunch with Elle, so they both wound up coming with me.

As I left to go meet them at the first shop, I called my mom. I felt bad that she was driving all the way home again. She didn't answer her phone, so I left her a voice message. I apologized for cussing at her and for getting so frustrated. I told her I had been excited that she was coming, so it was frustrating when the plan kept getting messed up. I told her I was sorry she wound up losing half her weekend to driving.

I called because I felt bad for her (and because I wasn't sure she can get text messages), even if it was her decision to get just a few minutes from my place only to turn back around. By the end of the day (and still today), I wished I hadn't called her. The text message was almost too much. Knowing my mom, she'll take that as my admitting full responsibility for what happened, when really, I wasn't entirely to blame. I think I kept my cool through a lot.

The day wound up working out well. Heather, Elle and I went to two dress shops, and I actually found my dress!

It's the same designer as Heather's dress was, which is cool. And what's great is it's a lot like the lacy dress I'd liked before, but the things I disliked about the first one were just right in this dress!

I don't have a picture of me in the dress, since the store won't let you take pictures unless you're ordering it. I'm pretty sure I'll wind up doing that, but until then, here's a picture of the dress from the designer's site. (FYI, I'm going to have them alter the top to a sweetheart neckline.)






















Thank goodness for Heather and Elle! (Also, pretty sure my mom and I aren't talking again.)

Bet ya didn't see THIS coming!

This Saturday will definitely prove to be a very interesting day ... As you know, I've had a little trouble getting motivated to go look for wedding dresses. There's just that little thing about me already being married.

I've looked at dresses twice since I found my Florida dress last summer. The first time, I left after 5 minutes because I felt stupid and because the people at the shop were awful. I left frustrated. I felt like a washed-up beauty queen who refused to stop wearing her crown and sash.

So the second time, a friend from work came with me. That definitely made it better, but I think our tastes were a bit to different for it to really get me in the mood to keep going.

Well, May 23, 2009, is only getting closer. And considering that my weekends are going to be partially planned from June 19 through the end of September, that leaves me this weekend to really get moving.

There are two people in my life who I think are perfect to take wedding dress shopping with me. Both of these people have great taste, know my taste (and will take it into consideration), and have no problem telling me the truth if something I like isn't quite as great as I initially think it is. One of those people is CG. She's in Hawaii, which is a bit far to travel for a weekend of dress shopping.

The other? My mom. The thing is, though, while CG would be a bit gentler about telling me what I like isn't quite what it could be, my mom likes to overdramatize. Real-life example:

I'd just gotten my hair cut in high school. I'd decided to liven it up by throwing in a few layers. I had also cut off a good few inches. I'd cut off a few inches before, and I was all too familiar with the face my mom would give if I'd turned my back to her for a moment and looked back at her. She would always give me this disapproving face, like she couldn't believe I'd cut my gorgeous hair (whatever). Well, after the layered cut, the look managed to get even more sour.

"What? What!" I said to her.

Somehow, her face managed to sour even more. "Well ... it's just ... It looks like you were sitting in math class, and all through the class, the person behind you had a pair of scissors and slowly started snipping away at your hair, and you didn't know it."

See what I mean? Is that really necessary? I mean, I happened to like the layers.

I was torn about asking my mom to go dress shopping with me. Especially since I've only seen her once in the last year and a half. But I knew she'd be a good person to take with me as far as honest, good-taste opinions go. She knows my taste well enough to help me make such a decision. And I know my taste well enough to be able to overrule hers without worrying about upsetting her.

So I asked her to come. And she is.

Saturday morning, my mom is driving to my apartment. I can't even remember the last time she came here. Geez, K might not even have gone to Afghanistan yet. Crazy.

I made sure when I asked my mom to tell her that I didn't want her to make any faces and give dramatic explanations of why she didn't like a dress. I told her a simple no would do it if she didn't like it. As for the faces, she said, "Well, sometimes I have to study it a bit first."

"If you have to study it to decide you like it, then it's not the right dress," I said.

"You're probably right." (Duh!)

I told my mom about the two dresses I had fallen in love with before. As I described them, she said, "You don't need a strapless dress. Your shoulders are too broad."

There's one thing we're gonna disagree on ...

So please, after you've said your prayers for world peace and blessings for your loved ones, please say a (tiny bit superficial) prayer that I have the patience of a preschool teacher on Saturday.

And if that whole patience thing doesn't work out, hopefully I'll at least find a dress that does.

It's the one!

It's crazy how much importance you can place on a garment. You can search and search with a particular style or cut in mind, and it's hard to stop until you've found exactly what you're looking for.

I think we women are particularly guilty of putting so much emphasis on a perfect dress. But when you're looking forward to such an exciting day for so long, it's hard not to daydream about the dress you'll wear too. I mean, it is part of the picture.

I knew I wanted a dress, obviously. That was the easy part. I knew I wanted it to be flattering and show off all the hard work I've put into my arms. I wanted it to look effortless, but I didn't want it to be too revealing. After all, it's good to leave a few things to the imagination.

I had a few things in mind for what I wanted, so I kept my eyes open and tried on a few dresses from time to time. I didn't want to get too worked up over it; after all, I still had plenty of time. I figured I could afford to be patient for a little while longer. And it worked!

I'm excited to say that after months of searching, I've finally found the dress I'll be wearing on the wonderful, important day I've spent so many hours daydreaming about:






















the day I pick up K from the airport.

It's perfect! It's colorful, and it definitely will show off all the work I've put into my arms over the last 8 months (9 by September!). It's not too low-cut, so I'll avoid the cliche, in-your-face cleavage of the wife welcoming her husband home from war (not that I'm even remotely capable of in-your-face cleavage, but you get the point).

It's a little shorter than what I planned, but I think it's OK, given that it's not really revealing on top. It all balances out. It's cute, it's fun (it has pockets!), and it shows off just enough to be sexy and still leave a bit of mystery. Just what I was looking for! Oh yeah, and it was on sale. Score!

Now, aside from finding some shiny black flip flops, I'm all set for September. Bring it on!

361 days until the next one!

For as long as I can remember, the Fourth of July has been my favorite holiday. I just love the excitement of it. The fireworks, the food, the patriotism of the day ... It's kind of funny I wound up being an Army wife, since it somehow manages to make the holiday that much more meaningful and enjoyable to me.

Part of the reason I've loved the holiday for so long is that every year on the weekend of the Fourth of July, my dad's side of the family assembles for our family reunion. While I've often heard other people groan about their family reunions, I always look forward to mine. My dad's side of the family is full of really great, fun people who I feel really thankful to be connected to. I've only missed our reunion once, and even though it was a good Fourth, I really missed it. I decided that was the last reunion I would miss if I could help it.

These reunions have been going on for decades, even since my dad was a baby. There's a scrapbook that floats around during the reunions, and it's got pictures of my dad as a teenager in tiny mustard yellow shorts (since that's what they wore in the '70s). The reunion is a meeting of the families of my dad's dad and his four siblings. They're all getting older now, and one of them passed away a few years ago. More and more each year it seems like the reunions I look forward to so much are nearing an end.

So I was really excited when my dad called me in May to tell me that the cousin I babysat for in college was going to hold the reunion at his house in Norman this year. My cousin and his wife are two of the sweetest people you'll ever meet, and they've got three adorable children. My cousin is a successful doctor, and they built their amazing new house while I was still in college. I was excited to see what they'd done to it and to have a great excuse to go to Norman.

I stuck around Thursday night to go to a big fireworks show in Dallas with some friends, so I woke up early Friday morning so I could head to OK for the day. I arrived at my cousins' house while all the guys were still out playing golf (it's tradition!), so I caught up with aunts and cousins and helped sample chocolate-covered strawberries.

Once the late arrivals and the guys got to the house, we started lunch. We caught up on the details of each other's lives since we last saw each other. There were pregnant bellies and children walking around who were just babies in their mothers' arms last year. Cousins I remember from when they were toddlers are now 16, and for some reason, it still catches me off guard to see that they're old enough to require more clothing than the simple underwear they insisted on running around in as small children.

There was playing in the pool, fishing in the pond ...

































eating to our hearts' content, riding in an awesome golf cart (we're all Sooner fans!),

















playing with a hor.ny toad (I hadn't seen one of those since I was in elementary school!),

















and three flavors of homemade ice cream, a family tradition that goes all the way back to when my grandpa and his siblings were little.

















There were hugs and laughter and lots and lots of pictures. There were prayers of gratitude for the blessings we have and prayers of protection for the men and women away from their families on such a patriotic day.

Many times through the course of the day I found myself looking around at all the wonderful people I'm so fortunate to have in my life. We may only all get together once a year, but it's a time I always cherish and look forward to very much.

When the final tradition of the day -- putting on our excellent fireworks show -- was over, I couldn't believe it was already time to go home. We all said our goodbyes and got ready to go our separate ways. We made the most of the final minutes, with about 10 of us piling into the golf cart for a silly ride to our cars (seriously, 10 people). We laughed and chatted a few minutes longer before climbing into our cars to head our different directions.

I wasn't even completely out of the driveway before I was already looking forward to next year's reunion.

Glad you're back?*

ER sent me an email today:

I'm home!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Can we hang out soon? I miss you.

She's been visiting family in Asia for the last month with her boyfriend, sister and her husband, and they just got back late last night.

I was supposed to work out with Jeremy and run 5 miles tonight. We have a 15k in a few weeks, so I didn't want to skip out on those plans, especially since I've hardly worked out over the last two weeks. I emailed ER back and told her when I'd be free the rest of the week. I asked when would work best for her. Her email reply said she was free tonight and tomorrow night, and she listed a few other things. Including the fact that she moves on Monday. (I knew it was soon, but I didn't realize it was that soon.)

So when Jeremy emailed me a little while later to tell me that he has to work late and would miss our workout, I immediately called ER to see if she wanted to meet for dinner. She didn't answer. I texted her to be sure she'd get the message before she made other plans. Just a few minutes later, she texted back: "Do you want to meet up for coffee or ice cream after dinner?"

Hmm.

ER and I are very close. She can order for me at a number of restaurants and get it all exactly right (even the special requests). Of all people, she should know I don't drink coffee.

Ice cream didn't sound particularly good -- especially if I was skipping on the gym. I texted her back, asking if she already had plans for dinner. She responded shortly after: "[Sister] has been cooking." I could understand that. I didn't want her to cancel on her sister -- especially if she'd been cooking.

Not 10 minutes after I got ER's last text, I was leaving work and called ER to set up our ice cream plans. Only she didn't answer the phone. Again.

Now, I know she may have been busy, but it's a pet peeve of mine when people are free to text for 20 minutes when a two-minute phone call can accomplish the same thing much easier. Besides, phones are for placing calls, not text messaging!

That left me feeling frustrated. And it gave me time to think. This is a bad combination for a woman.

ER has been in Asia for a month with her sister, her boyfriend and her sister's husband. Those are no doubt the people she's having dinner with -- otherwise, she'd have told me in the text. It's not a rare occasion for her sister to cook, so that's not it either.

There's also the fact she'd told me she was free. Why would she tell me she was free tonight if she wasn't?

And why would the girl who knows I want the #1 with cheese, mustard, and no tomatoes or onions; fries; and a vanilla Coke -- without seeing the menu -- ask if I wanted to meet for coffee?!

Especially if she's moving hours away in less than a week?

I'm so annoyed I don't even want to meet up anymore!
____________________________
*UPDATE (7-2-08)

ER and I did wind up meeting for ice cream last night. It took about 30 minutes or so for us to feel like ourselves again. I think we were both kind of tired -- hers from jetlag, and mine because I was just really tired all day yesterday for some reason.

So it went well and everything's fine now. I still can't believe she's moving so soon! I think we're going to go for pedicures on Saturday. That'll be some good bonding time before she leaves.