Part 2: My gift -- it really is the thought that counts

Ladies, if you're engaged, share this story with your fiance!!!

In general, K is light years ahead of other men when it comes to thoughtfulness and consideration. So it shocks me when we have those times that smack me upside the head and remind me that even though he's a really really good one, when it comes down to it, K is still a man.

When I decided on K's gift last October, I was so excited that I told him I had made my decision. I asked if he had thought about what he was getting me. Of course, he hadn't. No big deal; he had time.

Each time there would be a development with K's gift, I'd ask him if he knew yet what my gift would be. Each time, he still didn't know. I had given hints -- peridot jewelry (it's both our birthstones!), a silver necklace (he gave me a gold heart necklace for our first Christmas), a really cute yellow linen cabinet ... K also knows that I've wanted a really nice digital camera for a long time. That would be a huge gift, but it's an idea. I didn't know how K couldn't figure something out.

It was about two weeks before the ceremony when K's answer finally changed. Suddenly, he knew what he was going to get me, so I didn't question him again. He's an awesome gift-giver, so I was excited about what he could have thought of. (The spa gift certificate he gave me the Christmas before he left for Iraq was the best, most thoughtful gift ever. When I opened it up, he said something along the lines of "I won't be here to do it, but I want to make sure you're still pampered.") His gift to me didn't have to be big or extravagant, but I knew it would be something special.

The day before the wedding, I was talking to ER about the jerseys. She asked if I had any idea what K could get me. I told her I had a few: (1) Diamond studs. I wear my $2 fake ones almost every day, so I could see him buying me real ones. (2) The peridot jewelry or silver necklace. (3) The nice digital camera. (4) Or a trip. We hadn't gone on a honeymoon after the Florida wedding (we had half a day to ourselves after the ceremony before we drove back with K's dad & brother). People had been asking us both quite a bit if we were going anywhere for a honeymoon, and we had even talked about a few places -- Hawaii, Costa Rica, Cozumel, Key West -- but we'd made no plans. I could see K having something planned all along.

"Oh my gosh, those are all such awesome gifts! I can't wait to find out what it is!" ER said. I was excited too.

On the day of "I Do, Part 2," as I waited in the church choir room for the ceremony to begin, I handed K's gift and card to my bridesmaids to deliver it to him. (No, I didn't see these pictures until after the wedding.) I anxiously waited for them to come back. I couldn't wait to hear K's reaction.






































When the girls got back, they were empty-handed. "He didn't send anything with you?"

"No," they said.

I figured K wanted to give me his gift in person. Or maybe, like if it was the honeymoon thing, he would tell me at the reception. That would be a K thing to do.

But the ceremony came and went, and the reception came and went, and the wedding night came and went, and there was no surprise from K. It had slipped my mind, so I didn't think of it until the next day, when we were talking about the jersey. I gave him a chance to mention it, but he didn't. I said nothing.

Later that afternoon (still the day after the wedding), K and I were headed home from ER's house, where we picked up the gifts and things left from the ceremony. We were talking about the gifts, so I brought it up to K. I mentioned how he had finally said he knew what he was getting me, and I asked when I would get to find out what it was.

K sighed. He took a deep breath and told me that he had forgotten to get me a wedding gift.

Wow. I hadn't expected that, but I didn't really care. "It's no big deal," I said. "It's not like I married you to get a gift."

"I know," he answered, "but how hard would it have been to just have a card? That would have taken five minutes. But I had nothing." He went on. He said he had felt like an a**hole.

As I listened to him, my feelings started to change. "OK, now that I'm thinking about it, I'm starting to get mad. I spent a lot of time working on those jerseys! And for the Florida wedding, I easily put 24 hours into that scrapbook." I explained to him that the Florida wedding was different, since the Dallas ceremony was always going to be the "real" wedding, but still. I put a lot of time and thought into both those, and he couldn't even remember to get me a card.

K said to me, "You're making me feel worse."

I explained to him I wasn't telling him any of this to make him feel better or worse. I just needed him to know how I felt. "Besides, it's not like you forgot to reserve a limo and make dinner reservations for your bachelor party."

I told him that it didn't matter what the gift was, but it was the sentimental value. I love things with sentimental value (who doesn't?). I told K that that was the whole point -- that I could someday say to our kids, "Your dad gave me these earrings on our wedding day," or "K got me this camera as a wedding gift because he knew how much I love photography."

Anyway, on Memorial Day (observed), we were laying around the pool with one of K's friends when something came up that made K tell his friend about his goof-up. K admitted to us that he had ordered his gift for me on the wedding day, while I was getting my hair done. I don't know why he hadn't told me about that the day before, but he explained that he thought it should still count as a wedding gift since he'd ordered it on the day of the wedding.

We'll see. But whatever it is, evidently K got it in the mail on Monday. And finally, tonight -- almost two weeks after the wedding -- I'll get to see what it is.

Part 1: K's gift

I decided what I was getting K as a wedding gift on October 4 of last year. I was with Jeremy at the OU-Baylor game. Jeremy was wearing his custom-made OU jersey, which has his last name on the back and the number he wore when he played high school football.

Since K is a real Sooner fan now, I decided he needed a jersey. And if he gets a jersey, why not have it personalized?!!! And if K gets a personalized jersey, how awesome would it be if I got one too, complete with my new last name?! The numbers would be 9 and 22, for our Florida anniversary, since that's the day we were legally married. Perfect!

I immediately started searching for plain jerseys. Turns out they are NOT easy to find! N!ke owns the rights to Sooner apparel, but they don't sell plain jerseys (hello, gigantic marketing opportunity!). If I managed to find a solid, could-be-the-right-shade jersey, I then had to find a smaller version that would work for my jersey. Not an easy feat.

Back in December, when I was in Oklahoma for Danielle's wedding (sorry, I never posted about that), I went to the store in Oklahoma City where Jeremy's jersey was made. Once again, the smaller jersey was creating a problem.

I finally found a company online that sold plain jerseys in adult and kids' sizes (evidently women don't wear jerseys), so I ordered them. A month and a half later, when I still hadn't received the jerseys, I learned mine had been sent elsewhere by accident. I got them a week or two later, and they were the perfect shade of Aggie maroon. Yikes!

I called the jersey company and spoke to a few different people before I was connected with someone in the warehouse, who actually looked at the different jerseys to tell me which color would be the perfect shade of Sooner crimson. I returned the Aggie jerseys, and a couple of weeks later, I got two beautiful new crimson jerseys in the mail.

I immediately shipped them up to a store in Norman (the one that does the REAL players' jerseys!!!) to be personalized. They were finally ready just five days before the wedding, so Danielle picked them up and brought them with her to Dallas the week of the wedding so K wouldn't see the box and be tipped off by a Norman label.

As you can tell, these jerseys took months of work and effort, but they were worth it. They looked gorgeous!

I had ordered some cutesy cards off etsy months ago, so I used one that said "you're better than chocolate" (if anyone ever questions something I'm saying, I tell them that I swear on chocolate and Sooner football -- two things most people know I'd never joke about) to write him a note to read before he opened his gift.

I took a picture of the back my jersey, and I placed it in the box on top of his jersey so he would get the significance of the numbers I'd chosen.

I put so much time and effort into it, but come football season, it'll be totally worth it!

I Do, Part 2: Pictures

I obviously don't have the professionals yet, but here are some that friends have posted on facebook or passed along to me so far.


Me with my bridesmaids.

Right before I walked down the aisle.

The groomsmen.

The kiss.




















We're married (again)!





















Entering the saber arch.














Right before our friend WHACKED me on the butt with his sword!

Our sign-in table. Check out the awesome ceramic boot that held the sparklers for our exit!










Our cake with the awesome, specially made topper! We went with French vanilla with strawberry filling. Mmm!

K's groom's cake. It was red velvet, and it was delicious! I learned that groom's cakes are a Southern tradition. K's Yankee friends hadn't heard of them before.

Cutting the cake. K was pretty nice. He only got it on part of my face. I was going to be nice, but he gave me the go-ahead. I smashed some in as nicely a way as I could, but evidently it still went up his nose.















Showing the Yankees how we Southerners do it!

Heather, me & Elle.

Our fake exit at 10:00 p.m. Our photographer got to go home, we got pretty pictures ... and we got to go back in and party some more!

What the hell were we thinking?

Who plans a wedding when they're already married?!

I'll tell you who: CELEBRITIES.

They plan a second ceremony because they're rich and have nothing better to do with their time. And they love attention. And they have someone else to plan the wedding.

Never mind that we had perfectly legitimate reasons for planning this "I Do, Part 2" ceremony. Never mind that we based every decision for the Florida wedding off the fact we'd have this ceremony.

We are stupid, stupid people. We should be commited.

If the fact we're having a second wedding doesn't make us crazy enough for such drastic intervention, I assure you this week has gotten me to that point.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Communicating with clients! Imagine that!

The new hair & makeup lady texted me this afternoon to confirm our trial appointment tomorrow.

I'm likin' this lady already!

I just fired my hair/makeup person

I had three vendors I was trying to get in touch with yesterday. I got ahold of two of them. The third, my hair & makeup person, was still MIA.

I hadn't heard from her since last Tuesday (5/5). And that email had taken multiple emails on my part. She had asked if I'd be available for a trial on Thursday, May 14 (which is now tomorrow). I immediately emailed her back saying that should work, but asking for a specific time. I didn't hear from her.

I tried her again on Friday, when I sent her an email telling her I'd heard from all of my bridesmaids, and they would be doing their own hair and makeup. Still no answer.

I gave her the weekend, and Monday I was too swamped and forgot to email her. So I emailed her yesterday morning. Still no answer.

I called her late yesterday afternoon. You guessed it: No answer.

I texted AJ: "She better give you commission for my business, because if you hadn't recommended her, I'd have given up on her 2 wks ago."

AJ couldn't believe I still hadn't heard from her. She told me she had a great backup, and she gave me her information. I called the new hair & makeup lady, but I got her voicemail. I left her a message. She returned my call 30 minutes later!!! [cue angels singing]

I finally got an email from the first girl at 11:15 last night. By that point, it was too late. I had to email her this morning to fire her. I did it politely and very nicely (and no, I did not use the word "fired").

I've never had to fire anyone before, so it sucked that I had to do it. But I have enough to worry about without adding the fear that my hair & makeup girl won't show up on the day of the ceremony.

When did I become a babysitter?

Dear Cake Lady,

You told me on May 4 that you'd be calling me the next day to discuss our wedding cake and groom's cake. I still haven't heard from you.

Considering that my wedding is 11 days away, I thought maybe it would be a good idea if we could get this shit planned already.

Sincerely,
Girl Who Would Find a New Baker If She Had More Than 11 Days to Go

_______________________

Dear Hair & Makeup Lady,

After several attempts to get in touch with you the previous couple of weeks, I finally heard from you late last week. You never told me for sure that you'd be available to do my hair and makeup for the ceremony, but since you said you wanted to do a trial this Thursday, I'm taking that as an all-clear.

And since Thursday is two days away, if you could answer my third email attempt to find out a specific time for said trial appointment, I'd appreciate it. I'd also really like it if you'd answer me about where your office is.

Thanks for sucking at communication,
Girl Who Would Totally Use Someone Else If AJ Hadn't Spoken So Highly of You

_______________________

Dear Hotel Coordinator Lady,

Thank you for your offer to do two shuttle runs from the hotel to our reception site for our guests. I really appreciate it, and if you're still able to do it, that'll save us a little bit of money since we'll just have to pay for a shuttle at the end of the night.

However, I'd really appreciate it if you would answer me on whether that offer still stands and if we can work it out for just the beginning of the night. I understand I can't be too upset with you since I'm not paying you for this service, but at the same time, yours is our primary hotel, so we've brought you a good amount of business for next week -- and you did offer this service to us.

Please answer my dang email so I can book the shuttle for the end of the night.

Thanks,
Frustrated Chick Who Is SO Never Getting Married Again! (twice is plenty, thank you)

What a creep!

Today is a warm, muggy day, and it's the first day we haven't had rain in the forecast in weeks. I wanted to wear something cute and girly to celebrate, and I had a new, short-sleeved knit shrug that made me feel confident I could wear a summery dress to work without freezing to death. I paired it with some brown Old Navy flip-flops and was good to go.

Until my right flip-flop decided to break late this morning. For some reason, the bottom of the toe strap just popped off, so I had to get extra creative with my fix. When shoving a pushpin into the end of the strap didn't hold, I bent up a paper clip, which I was able to work farther into the strap. It seemed to hold better. I was determined to not have to go home because of a flip-flop malfunction. I'm not wasting this cute outfit, dang it!

Around lunch, it was time to take Piper outside (I can take her to work, remember?). It's a pretty decent haul down several flights of stairs and through a couple hallways to take her out, but I tried my best to walk gently to avoid messing up my quick fix.

I guess I wasn't gentle enough, because my flip-flop was definitely looser. I lifted my foot and could see that the paper clip was starting to follow the strap through the bottom of my shoe and out the top of the flip-flop. I hobbled over to a curb and sat down to fix it. I pointed myself at the parking garage, rather than toward the outside parking lot or the road. I figured it was the best direction to go to avoid flashing anyone (just in case). Besides, there was a huge white truck parked in the spot closest to me. It would block the rest of the garage from seeing anything so I could focus on fixing my flip-flop.

After doing the best I could to fix my shoe, I put it back on and stood up. Then, I heard the truck start in the garage.

"Awesome."

I hadn't been sprawled all over the curb, but if I'd known I had a possible audience, I'd have stretched my legs out in front of me more. I had been sitting low to the ground, so my knees were high in front of me. My dress is about knee-length, so no one could have seen down it, but they could have seen underneath it, since I hadn't tucked the back/bottom of my skirt between my knees. (I thought the truck was guarding me!)

Still, I wasn't sure the driver had seen anything. I headed to the grass and leaned over to pick up after Piper. When I stood up, the light caught something shiny and silver from within the cab of the truck.

It was either a digital camera or a mini-video camera. And it was pointed right at me.

My jaw dropped to the ground. I'd seen this truck in the garage for weeks! He was always in the same spot. As a matter of fact, I'd parked right by him this morning. But I had no idea who the driver was. I couldn't see him clearly enough to tell if I even recognized him, but I could tell it was a man.

I made sure that the rest of the time I was out there, I was glaring at him, just in case he looked at me again (I still couldn't really see him).

I'm not sure if he videotaped me or took a picture. And I'm not sure if he did the same while I was sitting on the curb. I'm not sure if the angle he got was down the front of my dress, or if I had turned my back to him and he'd managed to pick up the outline of my no-panty-lines-please underwear that only shows when you stretch the dress to try to test the panty lines (meaning the underwear outline also may show if I do bend over). Either way, I'm not cool with the fact this guy was recording ANY of this.

I'm seriously contemplating leaving a bitchy note on his windshield.

How are we supposed to play this game if we don't know the rules?!

As if wedding planning wasn't doing a fabulous job of filling my spare time (and downtime at work -- shh!), now that we know when and where we're going next, I've found a new hobby: house hunting.

I found two homes that I absolutely love. K loves them too. I got excited about the possibility of living in one of them (or a house like them) in less than three months.

And then I read that you shouldn't buy a house if you're going to live in it less than three years. Shit.

K is assigned to this base for only two years. After that, he'll be sent halfway across the country for a training course.

But ...

The housing market is crap right now. It's a great time to buy. And since things are looking like they're headed up, it seems logical that the housing market will improve over the next couple of years as well.

Plus, this home (whether we rent or buy) will be in the Virginia Beach area. There are several military bases there, and evidently the area is a pretty nice tourist destination (according to the Internet, anyway -- K and I have ever been).

I spent some time yesterday looking through rental houses in Virginia Beach. I found a few I liked, and K liked them too. The ones we loved were in the neighborhood of $2,000 a month.
That seems like a lot of money to just be giving away to someone each month. And multiplying that sum for the course of 24 months?! Wow ...

Now, we're stuck on what to do. Does the situation and location make it OK to throw the three years rule out the window?

19

We just have 19 days to go until I Do, Part 2. Nineteen days to keep trying to get ahold of our baker and my hair person (they suck at communicating).

Nineteen days to design & print programs and table numbers. And thank you cards. (Worst decision ever. I've told everyone I know who's planning a wedding that it's totally worth it to have someone else do them for you.)

Nineteen days left of stressing: What if no one else comes? What if the ceremony is just us and dates of the people in the wedding party? Why have so many people not RSVP'd yet? Is this all going to be worth it?

Nineteen days until I can get my life back. Oh, please let it be worth it!

I guess I can start going through my wardrobe now

My apartment office requires 60 days' written notice before you move out -- even if your lease is up. My lease ends at the end of June. With a giant question mark STILL looming over my entire summer, I was getting a little anxious. Sure, I'd have the whole military orders clause on my side if I needed it, but I didn't want to have to deal with it.

The Army had kept us waiting on the details of the impending move for months and months and months, and for some reason, yesterday I decided I couldn't take it anymore. I don't think a couple months' notice of the concrete details of how drastically my life is about to change is too much to ask. I talked to K about it and begged him to stay on the people in whatever office it is that could tell us his next career move.

This morning, when I called K as I left for work, he told me he finally had information about our next assignment. Good thing: I had my vacating notice in hand and was about to deliver it to the leasing office.

When I handed it over to one of the ladies there, she asked, "Do you have a forwarding address yet?"

I thought to myself, Woman, I didn't even know where I was going until this morning!

But I smiled and shrugged.

"Virginia."

Realization

It's easier (even if it's slightly more stressful) to have K half a world away in Iraq than to have him five hours in Louisiana.

At least when he's in Iraq, I know I can't be with him on a daily basis. Here, as the days go by, the reasons for my staying in Dallas make less and less sense.

If K winds up staying in Louisiana, I just may move as soon as we know. Why drag it out?

OH. MY. GOSH.

This totally changes my answer to the whole, "What's the first thing you would do if you were a man?" question.

I'm makin' an entrance!

Miss Amy tagged me for this meme two months and one day ago, and for some reason as I laid in bed this morning trying to catch another 45 minutes of sleep after my workout and before getting ready for work, I remembered I still haven't done it.

Oops.

So here it is, fashionably late. I'm supposed to reveal 10 things about myself, and then tag 7 other people. Well, since it's so late, you've probably all done this thing, so I'm tagging no one. If you want to do it, feel free, but I won't hate you if you don't.

1) I suck at parking. I'm so bad that a lot of times, I'll straight up open my door, peek at the parking line and then readjust. It's a rare occurrence when I manage to park in a straight line, and it kind of makes me want to do a happy dance.

If I ever manage to park in a straight line and be perfectly centered in my parking spot, it won't do me good for long because I'll immediately climb back in my car and floor it to the closest gas station so I can buy a Lotto ticket.

2) I recently realized that if I gain any weight at all, the place it becomes most obvious, unfortunately, is my face. A 5-lb weight gain can evidently make the difference between me having cheekbones or a round, fuller face. (Which evidently leads to my FIL calling me fat.)

3) I am not inviting my mom to the Dallas wedding. I made this decision several times, which means I faltered on it several times. But every single time I started doubting not inviting her, something would happen to remind me why I had decided to exclude her to begin with. This time, I'm sticking to my guns.

4) I am one of those people who works really hard to stay in touch with friends. Which is funny, since several of my good friends, including K, are terrible at staying in touch. I used to wonder if maybe these friends were better about keeping in touch with other friends, but they just didn't think I was worth trying to keep up with. Or I'd wonder if they were leading such amazing lives that they didn't have time to answer the phone or return calls. Now, although I still don't quite understand why, I know keeping in touch is just not everyone's forte.

5) I really, really want to go on Wheel of Fortune. I would rock at that game.

6) I still don't know what I want to do when I grow up. I have a good job with some awesome perks and a pretty decent salary, but I'm ready for a change. I just don't know that this economy and the potential move location (whichever it may be) will make this the best time for a change.

7) K is the most amazing person I've ever met. He makes me feel so lucky, and sometimes the part of me that worries I'm like my mom feels like I don't deserve him.

8) I have a closet full of solid-colored shirts of various styles (3/4 sleeve, short sleeve, long sleeve, knit, cotton, cable-knit, etc) and a drawer full of tank tops of various styles (lots with lacy trim, a few patterned, and a lot of solids) for layering. This is because if I see a cute patterned shirt, I worry that it'll be too obvious where it's from or that everyone else will have the skirt, shirt or dress in the same fabric, so I usually don't buy it (especially if it's in the store's ads a lot). And I don't want to buy a shirt with a company's logo on it because if I'm going to advertise for them, they should just give me the shirt! So it's solids and layering for me ... unless I find a cute striped shirt or polka-dotted tank. (Exciting, huh?)

9) When I booked our reception venue two years ago, the reception coordinator asked me my favorite wedding-related thing I'd ever seen. She said it could be anything -- color mix, flowers, ceremony idea, picture ... whatever -- and it could be something I'd seen in real life or a movie. I immediately knew exactly what my answer was: a scene from Love Actually, my favorite movie ever. It's the part right after Keira Knightley gets married. Just as she and her new husband turn to walk down the aisle and exit the church, a small choir appears in the loft and starts singing "All You Need Is Love." An amazing soloist comes out and picks up the melody, and small groups of musicians stand up and play from within the congregation. That scene makes me so happy, and it makes me cry every time. Ever since I answered that question with the coordinator, I've secretly hoped that K arranges something like that at the end of our wedding. (Lots of band people will be there!) I'm pretty sure I would just die of happiness right then if he did. (Readers I know outside the blogosphere, feel free to drop that bird in K's ear -- but don't tell me if you do!)

10) I hate card games.

We're like the Sonic couple, only cooler

K (who's half-Italian): "They have this sandwich called the Italian."
Me (being a ball-buster): "Sounds disgusting."
K: "It has pepperoni on it."
Me: "Did you not hear me?"
K: "Babe, part of marriage is blowing the other person off."

Bringing the fight back home

I've blogged about how K's homecoming was a little more of an adjustment than I thought it would be. I guess we weren't the only ones having that problem.

I always thought the hard part of all of this would be the deployment -- that if you can make it through those long months of separation, you're in the clear. Sure, it would take time and some getting used to as far as having the soldier home again, but it's all an adjustment that surely families and spouses would be glad to make. Evidently that's not really the case.

I just learned last night that a couple we're friends with (the fiance I went to visit in Daytona last summer) has broken off their engagement. Another couple we're close to is fighting nonstop (Yet they're still ring shopping, for some reason. They've been together almost as long as K and I.). It seems every week I hear of more couples fresh off of the deployment who are getting a divorce for whatever reason (sometimes due to things they learned their spouse did during the deployment) .

Thankfully, K and I are doing just fine. While his return was an adjustment, it was never anything to make me worry that we wouldn't make it. Change is just something you have to deal with in any long-term relationship; it's just part of life.

Obviously I don't know all the details that led up to the problems our friends and others are having after this deployment. It breaks my heart that several of them have gone through such a challenging time, only to fall apart when they should be getting to celebrate being together again.

I don't know if this epidemic is common after a deployment of this length, but the whole thing has definitely been a learning experience for me. I've heard K's friends mention a few times how deployments can make or break a relationship (I can't even tell you how many couples got engaged or married before the tour or during R&R), but I always thought that was really more true for couples who are just dating.

K and I have both been surprised by the number of couples calling it quits. But it's a good reminder to be a little more patient as K continues to settle in back home, to be even more grateful for having him here, and most of all, to be sure I don't take K or any part of our relationship for granted.

Why does the military hate me?

Remember how absolutely, ridiculously anxious I was to get engaged to K? I thought once we got engaged, we would soon be married, and that would mean that we'd get to live in the same place. I was definitely ready for that.

So we got engaged, and we wound up getting married quite a bit quicker than we'd thought -- because K deployed. Not only did getting married not lead us to living in the same place, but it left us living on different continents, on different sides of the world, with a 9-hour time difference. Boy, was the joke on me!

But, as you know, after 14 months away, K came home. And we were anxiously awaiting the list that would tell us where we'd get to live together (FINALLY) for the first time in our four-year relationship.

Our top three preferences -- Colorado, Seattle, Hawaii -- are among the most popular choices of places to be stationed, so we really didn't expect all of them to be on our list. K's branch manager -- the powerful wizard who compiles this list based off of all the needs and openings in the entire U.S. Army -- had told K that with the rough few years he's had (three deployments in addition to spending a year in Korea, and being stationed in two of the most undesirable posts in all of the Army), they'd try their best to get us in one of those places.

We were pretty excited for this list, since it would tell us where we'd spend our first three years living in the same state, city and home. I couldn't wait to know our choices so I could daydream about our combined lives in whatever charming cities the list held.

We waited and waited. Well, we finally got the list a couple weeks ago. And we've hardly shared it with anyone.

Frankly, we're a little annoyed by it. This is the not-so-fabulous compilation of choices K and I were given for where we will spend the next three years together:

• Korea
• the California desert (right between Death Valley & the Mohave Desert)
• Boise, ID
• Virginia
• Louisiana (where K is currently stationed)
• (potential option) ROTC position in Kansas

As for Korea, K has been there, done that. Not to mention the fact that I'm not quite ready for a move of that scale.

The Cali desert? I'm not living anywhere near a place with "Death" in its name.

Boise? The job is actually one K has no interest in whatsoever. In fact, he once told me if he had to do this type of job, he'd want to shoot himself. That would not be good for our marriage.

Virginia? We love the state, and we'd both love to live there someday. The trouble is -- once again -- the job. K would be in an office all day, and he really wants to have more interaction with soldiers. So would loving the area make up for being in a job you hate?

Two places on the list offer jobs right up K's alley: Louisiana and Kansas.

Teeny, tiny, nothing-around-for-miles, Louisiana. In a town where they call Wal-Mart "the mall." Where your only options to eat (besides fast-food chains) are a hibachi grill, a Mexican restaurant, and one of those steakhouses where you throw peanut shells on the ground.

Where we could afford a really nice house, since no one wants to live there. Where no one would ever want to visit us (not that I'd blame them). Where we'd be a decently short drive away from Florida for beach vacations, and Oklahoma to see my family and go to football games.

Where K would be very well taken care of, since the colonel (who, in K's review, called him "the best Captain in this battalion" and said of K's recent time in Iraq, "He played the biggest role in the unit's stunning success in quelling the insurgency") has already told us he'd have K work for him again.

Where I'd have no idea what to do job-wise.

Where we've been anxious to leave for the last few years ...

Which leaves us with Kansas. Which may not even become available.

The only pros about all the items on this list are that K is guaranteed to NOT deploy in the next three years. Considering he's been gone 18 of the last 36 months, we're OK with that. (But you better believe I was 100% freakin' serious when I asked K if we could get that "guarantee" in writing!)

So it looks like we've got some thinking to do. And it would also seem that, once again with the U.S. Army, the joke's on me. Awesome.

Funny thing is that he'd put on a few himself

So much has been going on lately, I've hardly had time to blog. Life has been crazy hectic since K got home.

We spent all of last week doing a nice little road trip to bring K's car back to Louisiana. He'd left it parked at his dad's house in PA during the deployment.

K and his brother picked me up from the airport, and we immediately headed to his dad's house. FIL got up from his recliner in the living room to give me a hug and greet me in the kitchen.

He looked at me and said, "You got fat since last time I saw you. Looks like you put on a little weight there."

Man, I love my father-in-law.

Updates to come on rest of the trip -- and on life over the last couple of weeks. I promise.

How to know your dog thinks she's a person

Remember that time K came home from Iraq?

I thought I'd blog about it (finally).

In many ways, the ceremony was like when K came home from Afghanistan in 2006: They tortured us friends and family with sappy music (seriously, "Candle in the Wind"?) along with a slideshow of the soldiers (like we're not emotional enough already). Dozens and dozens of friends and family members held "Welcome Home" signs and crammed into the gym waiting for the soldiers to arrive.

















Unlike 2006, most everyone was dressed appropriately, which was a bit disappointing.

Just like 2006, everyone kept an eye on the windows in the doors of the gym to catch the first glimpse of the buses that would carry our loved ones home.

And just like 2006, once they arrived, they filed neatly out of the buses, into a formation, and then marched one by one into the gym.


















This group was much larger than the group K deployed with in 2006. This was the largest flight back from Iraq, but there were several other flights that arrived home before K's (some as early as late December) and even a couple that arrived after.


















Just like 2006, there was a very brief speech declaring the end of the deployment ... and then the soldiers were released.



I didn't cry for K's homecoming in 2006. We both cried when he arrived in Dallas for R&R.

I noticed K tearing up a bit when the soldiers were still in their lineup before the national anthem and prayer. I'm sure some of it was the emotions and relief of the whole situation, but he said he was also thinking about the people who didn't make it back for the ceremony. Thankfully, no one in K's unit was killed, but K knew a couple people who had died, including his cousin who was killed in Afghanistan in the very same area K had been for the 2006 deployment.

I had wondered if I would cry at the homecoming, given the enormous amount of relief I was sure I'd feel. But I didn't cry.

I was there with two other wives, and we found ourselves in disbelief that the moment had finally arrived. We know all too well that things with the military are constantly changing, so we were too afraid to get excited until the guys were right in front of us. We decided it was the lingering effects of the self-preservation mode we'd been in for well over a year.

One of the wives has an 18-month old son, and she was trying to hold him and their welcome home sign, so I was multi-tasking by taking photos with her (fancier) camera and videos with mine (part of the reason the videos were a bit shaky). We were pleasantly surprised when our husbands wound up coming in one after another and standing by each other during the ceremony. The three of us had told them that we would stay in the bleachers to avoid the mass chaos upon their release. Instead, they would come to us. Hardly anyone else did that, so it worked well.

What also worked great was my method for my sign. I knew that since this deployment was bigger than in 2006, the ceremony would be as well, so I wanted a sign that would stand out in the sea of "WELCOME HOME"s. I had told K for months that the sign would be a giant red "G" (first letter of our last name). Evidently it stood out great, and it provided a laugh for those of us who can have a dirty mind at times.















It's a design I'll have to remember in case of another deployment, and one of my friend told me she'll be using it as well if her husband deploys again.

But for now, it's such a relief to know that for at least the next 14 months, our husbands will be here on good American soil (unless we venture out of the country for vacation!).

Exciting things

Because I can't leave you with just that post after such a long break:

• Look! A homecoming picture (more later, really really really, I promise!)!

• My wedding dress is in! (I haven't run in weeks ... here's hoping it zips up!)
• K and I are going to be famous! (OK, not quite.) There's a media outlet that does a little love story-type feature, and K and I got interviewed for it today!

Facts & confessions -- is it just me?

FACT: I suck at blogging lately.

FACT: I still owe you pictures from the homecoming. And a blog about it. And details on what we've been up to since K has been back.

FACT: I'm going to make you wait a little longer for those. (FACT: I'm sorry.)

FACT: K is here in Dallas with me this week. We went to lunch today, and somehow, we got onto the topic of a past *ahem* ... relationship of his.

CONFESSION: I'm not a virgin. (Shocker, I know.)

CONFESSION: I wasn't a virgin when I got married. Or when I met K.

FACT: Neither was he.

FACTS:

• Remember the jerk I dated all through college? He was my first, and I was his. Besides K, he's the only guy I've been with.
  
• When I met K, he was 26. For this fact alone, I was pretty sure that his history was going to be a little more extensive than mine. Because K is so genuine and kind, I figured his number was probably somewhere around 3.
• I was wrong -- it was a bit higher than that. It wasn't large for a guy his age, but it was more than I'd expected. I honestly just tried to make the best of it by telling myself he would definitely know what he was doing in that department.
  
• I was OK with his number. I was also OK with the fact he'd been engaged before.
  

FACT THAT ANNOYS THE HELL OUT OF ME: Of course, that blasé attitude changed once I started caring about K.

K and I have a very honest, playful relationship. I give him quite a bit of grief about his little history. I remember their names better than he does, and it turns out I remember a lot of the history of it better than him, too.

I don't know why I feel the need to give him so much grief about it or why I torture myself by asking K about it. Sometimes, though, it has just managed to come up in conversation, and K is always open and honest. Which is how we got onto the topic today.

I don't get catty or rude or gripe at K about things that happened before he ever knew I existed, but I probably tease him about it more than I should. And I know it bothers me more than it should.

I think part of it is that K is the first guy I dated who wasn't a virgin. (To be fair, he's the first guy I dated when I wasn't a virgin.) There never were any girls in my exes' pasts to dwell on -- and even if there were, I didn't care about those guys in the same way to care enough about their pasts like that.

FACT: K married me.

FACT: K still loves me.

FACT: I need to just get over it.

CONFESSION: I wonder if I'm the only girl who felt like she was more normal with this kind of crap BEFORE she fell in love.

Even good adjustments take time to get used to

Whenever I'm absent from my blog, it's usually for at least one of three reasons:

1. I'm enjoying a break from the computer (after all, I do have to sit and stare at one all day for work.).
2. I'm really busy.
3. I don't have anything I want to share because it's either (a) not much, or (b) not positive.

Everything is fine, but my absence over the last couple weeks has been due to all of the above at different times.

K arrived back home a little after 5 p.m. on Monday, January 5. (I'll write a post with pictures about the homecoming soon.) After the welcome-home ceremony, we headed to a nearby town that had a bit more to offer than where K is stationed, and we picked up a pizza before checking in to the hotel. K was exhausted from traveling, so he was asleep before 9:30.

Since K didn't have to go back to work until Thursday, I took off the next two days as well. On Tuesday, we didn't do much. We didn't venture out of our hotel room until we decided to get Italian food for dinner. It was wonderful to have so much "just us" time.

On Wednesday, we got out to do a little shopping and exploring around the area we were staying. That took only a couple hours, so we went to the movies to see Yes Man (such a cute movie!).

Thursday morning, we got up early and headed back to post. K checked in at work, and then we headed to a spousal reintegration class we were required to take. We were one of the few couples in the class who'd been through a deployment together before. Actually, K was one of the few who had been deployed previously (this is his 3rd, not counting a year-long stint in Korea, since it's not a combat deployment).

In the class, they talked to us about what not to do with the deployment money. They reminded us of the signs of post-traumatic stress disorder and told us to look for them on both ends -- even for the family members back home, since a deployment isn't just traumatic for the service members. They told us not to sneak up on the soldiers, since their initial reaction might be the one they'd have had over the previous 13 months, which is to protect themselves.

They talked to us about the honeymoon phase and about getting used to being around each other again. They mentioned the effects that the food here can have on the soldiers. (I laughed during that part, since K had tortured me and our hotel bathroom after our Italian dinner.)

We spent the rest of our three days together catching up on the food K had missed, spending time with friends, and updating facebook, since K decided to join while I was taking a nap on Saturday. (I'm pretty sure he's addicted.)

I was actually ready to head back to Dallas that Sunday. I had clung to my routine so much over the last 13-plus months that it was weird to just drop everything for a whole week. And even though things were great with K and me and we had seemed to pick up right where we left off, it had been almost a week of constant togetherness after about 13 months of separation. I didn't mind the idea of a break.

Monday at work, I realized how not stressed I was. I didn't have to worry about my husband getting hit by rockets. I didn't have to worry about leaving my cell phone or who could call me while I'm stuck in a meeting. I didn't have to check my email 50 billion times a day to see if I'd heard from K (although I still pretty much did out of habit). I could call my husband or send him text messages if I wanted to. It was awesome.

The rest of the week, though, I felt different. I felt overwhelmed. I don't know what it was, but I was so anxious and stressed, and not knowing why I felt that way made me frustrated on top of it all.

K picked up on my stress over the phone. "It probably doesn't help that we still don't know when or where we're going next. I can understand why you're frustrated," he said.

That made sense, and I was sure that was part of it, even though there's nothing either of us can do about that right now. But I knew that wasn't all of it.

On nights while K was deployed, if I stayed in with nothing to do, I relaxed. Since I kept myself pretty busy, it was always nice for a break, and there was the added bonus that if K called, I wouldn't have to worry about it being bad timing or not being able to talk to him. But that first week in Dallas after K was back, it was lonely to be by myself. There was no potential unreturnable phone call, and there were no care packages to make or emails to write to tell K about my day. Now, I was just sitting home by myself while my husband is in the next state over.

I had also started feeling anxious about all I needed to do in Dallas but wouldn't be able to do during the week because of work, and I wouldn't have the weekend because I'd be in Louisiana again.

And there was plenty to do for Louisiana: I had K's laundry that I'd insisted on taking with me so he wouldn't have to use the laundromat. I still had quite a few of his things stashed around my apartment, so I had to find everything and gather it up to take with me for the weekend.

I spent an hour loading my car with everything on Friday morning. The more I loaded, the angrier I felt. I had spent the last 13 months doing things for K -- making care packages, baking cookies & muffins, sending wedding & baby gifts to his friends, taking care of bills, sending Christmas cards & regular email updates to his friends & family, reserving his apartment for when he got back ... I had done quite a bit for our wedding plans, including stuffing a ton of Save the Date magnets and sending them out. None of those were particularly exhausting work, but it all added up. I had been anxious for him to get home so I'd have help with these things.

Yet here I was -- in 20-degree, windy weather (I'm sure the wind chill was colder) -- trying to cram all his stuff into my two-door car by myself. I was angry at K. After all, I'd be there to help him unload everything. I'd be there to help him unpack. I was doing all this work alone; he was always getting help.

I felt bitchy, and I didn't like it. I knew that I had taken on all of these tasks. I had volunteered to do them, and I had wanted to do them. The only person I had to me angry at was myself.

The five-hour drive to Louisiana that night felt particularly long. K and a few of the other guys had gone to Houston, rented a U-Haul and bought out an electronics store, so K had all his loot waiting for him back at his new apartment. We started unloading it all as soon as I got there, and then we moved on to my car.

I was tired, and I really hadn't wanted to help, but I did. K was way too excited about his new TV (plus, the Direct TV guy was coming in the morning), so he set it up. I knew how long he'd been wanting it, so I just sat and talked to him while he hooked everything up.

By the time we crawled into bed, I just wanted to go to sleep. I was still frustrated at K, but I still knew that he wasn't to blame for any of it. I felt distant and disconnected from him, so I told him everything I'd been feeling over the last week. He was understanding and said it all sounded like normal, acceptable ways to feel. It's just been more of an adjustment than I realized it would be to have him back home. I hadn't expected that.

Then, K said, "I know it sounds crazy, but I actually kind of miss being in Iraq." He told me that even though he's glad to be home, there's an excitement about being there that you just don't get on post in Louisiana. He said he didn't know if it was the camaraderie of being with the guys all the time, or the fact that you never know what's going to happen -- not to mention the fact that what you're doing there (serving your country) is a pretty cool thing to begin with.

We learned that night that we're both adjusting to things going back to normal. It's hard to go about our lives the way they were before K left and just pretend that the last 13 months didn't happen. It's impossible to ignore that they did, and no one's asking us to, really. It's just different.

I felt so much better after our conversation. It was great to get all that off my chest, and it was so reassuring to know that talking about everything face to face had made it all OK.

The giddiness is starting to hit!

It's official: K will be home tomorrow around 5!!! We only get 36 to 48 hours' notice of the exact arrival time, but now it's for sure!

My car is loaded with my clothes for the week, along with K's "civilian" clothes, freshly washed and folded. I'm about to head out on the road to Louisiana!

At church this morning, the sermon was called "Moments of a Lifetime." (Perfect timing, huh?) It was all about how the present moment should be the greatest moment of your life. The future is somewhere out there, unknown, and even though we may have had amazing moments in the past, all we are left with is memories. Each present moment is a gift from God, and it should be the greatest moment of our lives.

Pretty sure for at least the next week, I'll have no trouble feeling the message of this sermon in my life!

Well-rested, with a successful shopping trip. What's not to love about 2009?

I spent New Year's just like I'd hoped: sleeping. I actually had some motivation to go to bed early, since my body has decided to hit me with a sinus infection. I'm determined to wipe it out before Monday.

So I went to bed at 10:30 Wednesday night. I was awakened several times throughout the night by Piper crunching her food; someone honking their horn for a while off in the distance, followed by a few pops that I'm pretty sure were fireworks (Happy New Year!); and text messages at all hours of the night and morning. My friends are obviously cooler than me, since they all seemed to be out and awake. At least I was rested.

I laid in bed awhile the next morning, and when I got up, I didn't want to mess with laundry, so I watched some football instead. After lunch, I showered, cleaned up and then headed out to try to find something to wear for K's arrival.

When K came home from Afghanistan in 2006, it was just after Thanksgiving. It was cold out, so I wore a long-sleeve V-neck shirt. The amount of short skirts and tiny tops I saw at the welcome home ceremony was a bit surprising for that time of year. While I'm sure I'll see plenty of the same on Monday (Monday!!!), I will not be sporting that look myself.

I wanted a light, pretty sweater. Something bright, and something V-neck (Hey, just because I don't want cleavage up to my neck doesn't mean I have to have fabric up to it too!). I'm going to wear jeans and my cowboy boots, since they're cute and fun -- and dang it, so am I!

I found a sweater, and I'd post a picture of it, but on the store's website, it's layered with a button-down shirt that makes the sweater look dumpy. I assure you it won't look dumpy on me on Monday. You'll just have to wait to see the pictures from the ceremony (which I highly doubt I'll be posting on Monday). (Monday!!!)

Don't let the door hit ya, 2008

Dear 2008,

Man, will I be glad to see you go. At first glance, it seems like I really shouldn't be that angry with you. After all, it was 2007 that took my husband away from me for over a year. But still, you did bring things like this and this to me out of nowhere.

I did my best to celebrate your arrival. I went out with two friends to an overcrowded bar, even though all I wanted to do was sleep! Maybe you could tell, though, since you decided to do all you could to drag yourself out, throwing a leap year at me and even adding an extra second to yourself tonight.

I did my best to make you go by quickly, and praise the Lord you did. I kept myself ridiculously busy with training and completing umpteen billion athletic feats (OK, like 6, but whatever. It was a lot.). I went on a couple trips with friends. I got promoted. I met some famous people. I went to a handful of concerts (interesting ones and awesome ones). I rode a hot air balloon for the first time and made it to Day 12 for the first time ever with K. Thanks to K, I got pampered a lot, which was definitely awesome. And I was only in one wedding this year (sorry, haven't blogged about it ... but it was just over a week ago, and I haven't even looked at my pictures yet!).

But I spent a lot of 2008 just waiting, getting by. Almost everything I did was designed to get me closer to 2009. Every step, every pedal, every countdown (man, there were a lot of those!) was added intentionally to make the next countdown seem that much closer. I spent a lot of time exhausted, but my plan worked.

Despite your stubbornness and added time, 2008, I won't look back at you as a bad year, but I'm still glad to see you go. And I'm going to celebrate tonight the way I wanted to last year: I'm going to bed. And I'm sleeping in.

And when I wake up tomorrow, I'll have a smile on my face. It's just that I'm really looking forward to so many things 2009 holds for me: My Sooners are in the national championship (here's hoping we don't roll over and die), I'll get to leave Dallas (thank you, Jesus!), K and I will have our "real" wedding (and it will be awesome!), and I'll finally finally finally get to live with my husband (in case you're wondering, we still don't know where).

But the part of 2009 I'm most looking forward to will come only a few days into the year: K will come home.

So please don't dawdle on your way out, 2008. I'm ready to start living to the fullest again.

Love,
me

Evidently you have to be here to understand it

I just saw a coworker in the kitchen this morning. She asked how my Christmas went -- "Did you get to see your husband? Wait, doesn't he come home soon?"

I said, "Yeah, like in less than a week and a half."

"Oh my gosh! Are you so excited?"

"I'm stressed!"

She gave me a confused look, turned and walked away quickly.

Guess next time I shouldn't be so honest.

I wonder if this means I'll be scrambling in a couple weeks

In an effort to not repeat the absolute neuroticism of the days (and weeks) leading up to K's last return home, I've been trying to not let the fact that the deployment is almost over get to me.

I think for the most part, it's working. Maybe even a little too well.

Because instead of rushing around doing 50 billion things to prepare for K's arrival, when I have time for peace and quiet at home, I've done nothing.

Never mind the fact I need to dust.

Never mind the fact I have papers to file and organize.

Never mind the fact I could stand to organize and throw out quite a few things that will make the eventual (like in 6 months) move easier.

No, this time, my attempt to prevent the insanity, nonstop cleaning and sleepless nights is to do absolutely nothing.

Surely there's a happy medium in there. We'll see if I find it in the next week or so.


*Before you get worried that K will come home to a pigsty, you should know that it could be until mid-January before he's able to come to my apartment in Dallas. The homecoming will take place in Louisiana. :)

How did you spend your Saturday night? I went dumpster diving.

K and I had only known each other for three months when he turned 27. He had mentioned once that he was wanting to get a casual watch, so I knew that's what I wanted to get him for his birthday. I went to four different stores looking for the perfect watch before I finally wound up choosing a band and face separately.

I was ridiculously nervous that he'd hate it. Really ridiculously nervous. But everything turned out great. K loved the watch.

While K is deployed, quite a few of his "civilian clothes," including the watch, are being stored in my apartment. Over the summer, when I was getting ready for K to come home for R&R, I noticed the watch had died. I took it to the Fossil store to get the battery replaced, and an employee at the store accidentally broke one of the hands off the watch face. I could send it off to be repaired (under warranty), but it would take 3 weeks, which was longer than K would be home.

The employee checked the computer to see if any nearby stores carried the same watch face, but it was discontinued. Since it seemed K would be without his watch no matter what, I decided to wait until the end of the deployment to get the battery replaced. At least that way, it wouldn't just sit running for several months.

I sent the watch off a few weeks ago, and I got it back good as new about a week and a half ago. I put the watch in my mail stack to sort through later.

For some reason, I thought about the watch face yesterday morning. I didn't see it on my table, so I realized I'd probably accidentally thrown it in the trash when I'd sorted through my mail a few days ago. There wasn't anything in the trash that could ruin it, and I was running late leaving for work, so I made a mental note to go through my trash when I got home last night.

Unfortunately, my mental note didn't register until tonight -- and I took my trash out this morning. I looked everywhere in my apartment that I could think of that I could have put the watch face. It was in none of those places.

I headed out to the dumpsters, but sure enough, they were loaded with boxes and Christmas trees (who throws those things away already?!). I searched the bags that hadn't made it into the dumpsters, hoping maybe I'd missed when I'd tossed my garbage bag over the little fence surrounding the dumpsters. No such luck.

I ran back to my apartment and started searching more closely through all of the same places again. I called my dad and told him all about the watch and how I'd misplaced it. Very quickly into the story, I was crying. By the end of it, I was sobbing. I knew it was ridiculous and that K wouldn't be remotely as upset as I was about all of it, but I couldn't help it. When I finished my second round of searching, there was still no sign of the watch.

I couldn't quit crying, and I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep. I honestly felt like I could've thrown up. I really just wanted to be able to talk to K about it right then, but that wasn't possible.

I got off the phone, and I headed back out to the dumpsters, armed with a flashlight. I tried to search as much as I could by touching as little of other people's trash as possible (I'm a huge germophobe). My dad called me back to see if I'd found the watch yet. He offered to drive to Dallas with my brother so the two of them could dig through the dumpsters for me.

The thought of my dad and brother driving two and a half hours late on a Saturday night (they wouldn't have gotten here until 10:30 or later) just to dig through dumpsters seemed awful, but the gesture was so sweet it made me cry even harder. I told my dad I'd keep digging and give him an update soon.

After several more minutes of digging, I was able to find two empty boxes I'd thrown away this morning, which gave me a little hope, but I couldn't see any sign of my garbage bag. I moved around to the other side of the dumpster to get a different perspective. A Christmas tree was on that side, along with quite a few large boxes, so it was hard to really see much. I'd been looking for quite a while, and the whole search seemed futile. I wasn't worried enough to climb into the dumpster and really dig, so after over an hour of crying and searching, I gave up.

I called my dad back and admitted defeat. He offered again for him and my brother to come down and help. I told him no again, and I told him K and I would just have to choose a new watch face together once he's home. It'll have its own sentimental value because we'll choose it together, and it'll be a "Yay, you're home" watch face. Thinking of it that way helped me stop crying.

A few hours (and a hot shower!) later, I've still got a headache from crying so hard. I feel a lot more at peace about the whole thing, especially since K and I can pick out a new watch together.

That being said, I'm still not completely confident I won't have a bit of an urge to go dumpster diving again tomorrow.

Merry Christmas, Oklahoma style!

I'm heading to Oklahoma tonight for bridesmaid duty! I'm really looking forward to my friends' wedding, and I'm so excited to get to be a part of it.

One thing I'm also excited about is that this time of year in Oklahoma, there's no way of avoiding hearing a certain little jingle. It's been around for decades, and it's really become Oklahoma's own little Christmas carol. (I'm so not exaggerating -- we used to sing this thing on bus trips in high school!)

Give it a listen! Hope you think it's as awesome as we* do!


*By "we," I mean Okies. :)

I MISS MY (a.m.) SLEEP!

I swear, I feel like I'm just so behind! I've hardly read blogs lately, and I've hardly blogged myself lately.

I can pinpoint all this to one weekend: Nov. 1 & 2.

That was the weekend of the NASCAR race and my half-marathon. And the time change. I thought for a long time that it was taking me a while to adjust to the time change. Never mind the fact I've never had this much trouble adjusting to a time change or the fact it's just one stupid hour.

I don't know why it's taken me so long to really figure out what the culprit is: Jeremy.

See, he's been my workout buddy for two years. He knows more what he's doing than I do, so I've gotten used to just following him around and working out with him. I've gotten a lot better results than I ever did by myself.

Well, shortly after the time change, Jeremy decided he didn't want to work out at night anymore. He wanted to go at 5:30 a.m. And since I'd spent this entire deployment being a gym/running/cycling rockstar, I wasn't about to quit just a matter of weeks before K was coming home for good.

So I sucked it up and started getting up and going at 5:30 also. And it's killing me.

Yes, I have my evenings free, but I go to bed early now! Before, I went to bed at midnight on an early night. I'd stay up unti 1:30 pretty regularly, just getting things done. I'd watch TV, do laundry, get things organized, read blogs ...

Now, going to bed at 11:30 is a late night. Most days, it's 11 or even 10:30. Last night? I was in bed by 10. TEN!!! My nights have gone from being productive to just eating dinner, cleaning the kitchen, relaxing on the couch for half an hour (an hour on Mondays for The Hills!!!), and then getting ready for bed. Not exactly productive. And somehow, I'm still exhausted on the weekends! Gah!

Thank goodness, I've got just a few more months of this to go, and then K and I will be living together (finally), and we'll be workout buddies at a reasonable time. I've seen plenty more of 5:15 a.m. than I ever care to again!

It's a bad time of year for Save the Dates

Over the last few weeks, I've been collecting addresses to send out our Save the Dates. Many people have figured out why, responding with things like, "I can't wait for the wedding!"

A few who aren't really close friends, though, have replied, "I need yours too!!!" I can only guess what that means: They think I'm sending them a Christmas card, so they want to be sure to send me a card too.

I sent out over 40 Christmas cards last week. Maybe that's not a lot, but to me, it was -- especially to do by myself (and signing K's name and mine)! I sent cards to K's family, my family, K's closest friends and my closest friends. I addressed all of them by hand. I sent out every card I had.

But I'm still getting a few, "I need yours too!" messages. Guess I'll be buying more cards tonight.

Praise the Lord for iPods and the gym

I'm not a morning person.

I really want to be, so maybe that's why it's taken me so long to learn this. But I would much rather stay up until 3:00 in the morning finishing things I need to do than get up 30 minutes earlier than usual to do them. It's silly, I know, but I also know that in that make-or-break moment, I'll hit the snooze button every damn time. (Even with multiple alarm clocks.)

So maybe that's why I was so not wanting to go to the gym when my alarm went off at 5:00 this morning. Or maybe it's the fact that it's cold, which definitely makes it tough to get out of bed. It could be because I was up until 1:15 last night, thanks to Christmas cards taking about three times longer than I'd anticipated. It could be because after two straight workdays filled with brain-frying projects with impossible-to-meet deadlines, I really needed today to be Saturday.

Or it could be because my attempt at putting off all the anxiety that evidently goes along with having your husband come home from war by trying to not let it get to my head that it's, like, less than a month away is not working as well as I thought it was.

Maybe it was all of those things. All I knew was I did NOT want to get out of bed. I called Jeremy to see what the workout was. Maybe that would motivate me.

It would've been easy for Jeremy to say something like, "Your husband is coming home soon. Get your ass to the gym." And it would've worked. I guess Jeremy was annoyed I'd called, because all he could muster up was, "Shut up and get out of bed. See ya there."

I got up and started getting dressed. As I gradually became alert enough for all five senses to be working, I noticed a weird smell in my apartment for the second time this week. And for the second time this week, I walked into my living room to discover that Piper had managed to get diarrhea without waking me up to let me know to take her outside.

Awesome.

I cleaned it up and, frustrated, headed to the gym. During our 45-minute workout, I listened to nice, angry music by bands like Korn, Disturbed, Five Finger Death Punch and Drowning Pool. (It really is good workout music -- especially for days like this.) My body was still sore from yesterday morning's 5:30 a.m. workout (Yes, we've been doing this on a regular basis.), which made today even more lovely.

At about 6:15, Jeremy said those words I always look forward to so much during our workouts: "We're done."

I headed toward the locker room, but I realized I wasn't as relieved as I usually am. I was still wound up and frustrated. I wanted to run, only it was 30 degrees outside and still dark. Not happening. But I couldn't go home. Not with all this negative energy still hanging over me.

I told Jeremy I was staying for cardio. I headed over to the elliptical (you know my luck with the treadmill), found more angry music and cranked up the volume. I started at a decent pace, and I picked it up more and more and more. I finished by listening to the first song I heard when I was heading back to Dallas the day K left for Iraq. I loved the song before then, but it's become a lot more emotionally motivating in runs. (It's the one I listened to at the end of my half-marathon to make me finish sprinting.)

After about 15 minutes, I was sweaty, red-faced and out of breath. For a physical and mental cooldown, I switched to Coldplay. When I climbed off the elliptical, I felt so much better. I had left all my frustration there.

Today is going to be a better day.

Eeeeeee!!!!

(from DallasNews.com)

Cold Front Blusters Through Dallas, May Bring Light Snow Tonight

A cold front moving through Dallas-Fort Worth this morning will create the right setting for possible flurries and even light snow this evening, the National Weather Service said. ...

The military just loves to take its time

Remember back in July when I posted about how anxious I was about getting the list of possible places K could get stationed early next spring? Yeah, we're still waiting on that.

We actually did eventually get a list sent to us in late August, but it was the wrong one. It was for openings in December, January and February. Obviously if K was still set to be in Iraq then, he couldn't very well take over a new position here at the same time. I wasn't too upset that the list didn't apply to us, though -- all the places on it sucked.

So here we are, months later, still waiting for that list. And in less than six months, I'll be packing up and moving with K to one of the places on this list that the Army doesn't seem very anxious to share with us.

I really need to go through my closet to get rid of things I hardly ever wear, but I don't want to start that project until I know what type of weather I need to prepare for. What if I throw out a bunch of old sweaters, and then we wind up stationed in Colorado? Or what if I get rid of a bunch of cute dresses or summery shoes that I hardly wear, and we get sent to Hawaii?

Maybe I should just look at the important phrase of both sentences -- "that I hardly wear" -- and get a move on it.

Colorado is at the top of our list of places we want to get stationed. What's funny about this is it really hasn't gotten that cold in Dallas yet, but for some reason, I'm feeling it more than I usually do (maybe all that Hotter'n Hell training moved up the entire range of temperatures I can handle by about 20 degrees). This, along with the hopes that we'll be lucky enough to get stationed at the post at the top of our list, has made me really into sweaters this season.

There are two sweaters I really really want to buy right now, and they're both on sale. If I knew we were going to Colorado, I could justify getting them. If I knew we were going somewhere warmer, I would know it would be wasteful and unnecessary for me to buy them.

Obviously, there are tons more important reasons for my wanting to know where K will be sent next. I'm going to be starting a whole new life in less than six months. I don't think it's too demanding to want to know where that will be like right now.

It would be nice to start researching the area and neighborhoods. I could find out more about the job market and decide if it's worth it to look for something there, or if I should just hang on to my job now and try to work remotely.

What if we wind up in Germany? It would be nice to have time to ... I don't know ... learn German!!

But also, knowing where we'll go next would make it so much easier to daydream about finally getting to start our lives together as a real married couple.

The suspense is killing me.

But at least for now, it's saving my bank account.

Of all the scenarios I imagined, this one came COMPLETELY out of left field

It was Thanksgiving night. My dad's girlfriend came inside the house and woke my dad, who was sleeping on the couch. She was trying to tell him something about Ringo, his dog. She told Dad that it sounded like Ringo had been attacked. She heard him make strange noises, and then it sounded like something attacked him. "Whatever it was, it was big," she said. Then she heard Ringo whining.

I ran to the bedroom to grab my coat as my dad, still out of it from his nap, tried to process what his girlfriend was telling him.

I ran out of the house, outside the gate, and down the long driveway to the street. I called Ringo's name the whole way, but I never heard a sound -- no footsteps on the gravel, no barking, no whining.

I got to the end of the driveway and tried to decide which direction to go on the road. A car was heading toward me from the right. It slowed and moved to one side of the road. I headed that way, calling Ringo's name again.

My dad and his girlfriend live out in the country, so there are no streetlights. I couldn't see a thing. Luckily, another car soon headed my direction. Just as I heard my dad start his pickup to head our way, I saw through the headlights of the oncoming car the silhouette of two dogs standing in the middle of the road.

I ran toward the dogs, waving my arms to warn the approaching car. I didn't want the driver to wreck in an attempt to avoid hitting them or watch the dogs get hit right in front of me. The car slowed, and I noticed Ringo seemed to be limping. He was definitely hurt.

Just as I reached the dogs, my dad pulled up in his truck. For some reason, the second dog was sticking very close to Ringo, like it had no choice.

Then I realize it didn't. The dogs were somehow stuck together, end to end.

I tilted my head to the side and tried to figure out what had happened. How could their legs be caught? Or were their tails twisted together (but how could that happen?)? What could have ...

Oooooooh ...

My dad started laughing and told me to wave the other car on by us. He immediately called my grandpa to find out how to ... ahem ... separate the dogs safely. Evidently the solution was a bucket of water.

My dad headed back to the house, and moments later, his girlfriend came down the driveway, carrying a bucket. She didn't want to be the one to douse the dogs, so I did. It worked.

The other dog, who -- rightfully so -- seemed pretty upset about the whole thing, immediately bolted down the road when she realized she was free.

Ringo, though ... Poor Ringo. He was bleeding, and he seemed to be in pain. We tried to get him to follow us back to the house, but he was more interested in checking on his manhood than paying attention to us. I wondered if we'd have to take him to the vet.

Somehow, though, after just a minute or two, Ringo seemed to be back to normal. In a split second, he seemed to forget his pain. We watched incredulously as he bolted off, disappearing in the direction his lady friend had gone just moments before.

Short-term memory. One-track mind.

Typical male.