I'm convinced that someone in our neighborhood has it out for us. I have no idea why, but all signs seem to be pointing to that fact.
No, this has nothing to do with my stalker. I don't think?
Speaking of my stalker, though, I never mentioned on here the strange thing that happened the very day after my stalker visited me in my garage. It was about 10:00 pm on a Saturday night, when suddenly the doorbell rang. Mike and I both assumed it was Stalker Man come to make good on his promise to pay back the $5 and ask about the computer. But, alas, it was not him.
Instead, it was a note in our screen door that said the following:
Hey Gorgeous,
I miss you. You still haven't told your husband about us, have you? When do I get to see you again? - Your Real Lover
Yeah. Pretty weird, eh? It could have been uber creepy considering it arrived the very next day after my stalker encounter. But, something about the whole thing just reeked of teenage prank. The dead giveaway was that the letter was supposed to be from a guy, yet there were lipstick kisses all over the paper. Obviously, a girl and a boy had collaborated in the making of the note.
In any case, 2 odd incidents in 2 days = my neighborhood is beginning to suck!
But, I haven't even really gotten to the part where someone has it in for us.
Someone in this neighborhood keeps reporting us. Once to the cops and twice to the city.
The first incident occurred soon after Mike's return from Iraq. We had left our trash cans on the side of the road a day or two too long after trash day, and next thing you know we had a warning on our front door from the city which indicated that someone had reported us. Really? For trash cans on the side of the road? Really? I mean if we lived in a classy neighborhood with a homeowners association, I could understand the problem. But, just across the street from us we have some people with animal horns hanging over their garage, so I don't think you can really consider this an upclass place. And, If you really have that much of a problem with us keeping our trash cans on the curb for too long, couldn't you do the neighborly thing and kindly knock on the door and tell us it's against the city's regulations to keep it there? Clearly we didn't know that or we wouldn't have left it there. It's not that we were trying to stand up to the "man" by keeping our trash cans out too long. We're not nearly that tough.
The 2nd incident occurred, also, soon after Mike had returned from Iraq. We were in the process of selling one of our cars, so he had it parked on the corner with a for sale sign on it. One night, after we were already in bed, actually, we had a knock on the door. It was the police. Apparently, the cop told Mike, we had a very angry neighbor. According to the cop, though, we were not breaking any law with the way that the car was parked, but he did ask us to move it a few feet just to keep the peace. Ok, Officer. No problem, Officer. Anything you say, Officer. Being in the military and all, Mike has no problem with authority. So he moved the car. And we wondered who the hell in this neighborhood has it out for us?
A few peaceful months passed by without us breaking a single city regulation or pissing off any of our neighbors. *Whew. Wipe sweat of brow. Rejoice.
Until this week...
When I opened my door to get the mail and there was another lovely warning from the city waiting for me out there.
Apparently someone in the neighborhood has taken issue with our sprinkler heads. They're round instead of straight or something like that, I don't know. So a little bit of water gets on the sidewalk when our sprinklers go off. So, this somebody felt the need to call the city and complain about us. Now let me tell you a few things about these sprinkler heads. First of all, I consider us lucky when none of our sprinkler heads are broken and shooting geysers 10 feet into the air. Second of all, our sprinklers go off in the middle of the night. Literally. They go off at like 2 am or something ungodly like that. So who in the hell is staying up until 2 am to check to make sure that we have "flat" instead of "round" sprinkler heads and no water is getting on the sidewalk? No, seriously? Who?
I'm desperate to know who in this neighborhood is so intently monitoring our activities. Is it you, nosy neighbor across the street? Are you possibly feigning friendship with Mike and ratting us out behind our backs? Is it you nice woman who walks her dog every 5 seconds? You always smile and wave, but are you secretly checking out our sprinkler heads during your middle-of-the-night-rounds? Is it you quiet woman across the street? I know Mike borrowed your weed whacker that one time, and you didn't seem too keen on lending it to him, but he returned it in tact, right? And what about you couple with animal heads hanging on your garage? You seem nice enough, but maybe you're the ones policing the neighborhood.
Oh, Tattle Tale Neighbor, Come out, Come out, Wherever you are!
I mean, I guess what it all boils down to is that Mike and I are really new to this home ownership thing. Apparently, neighborhoods have all kinds of weird rules like don't leave your garbage can on the curb too long, use flat sprinkler heads, and whatever you do, don't piss off the neighbors.
But, we don't need someone ratting on us every 5 seconds. What we need is a kindly neighbor to take us under his or her wing. Befriend us, and update us on the ways of the land here. Help us out. Don't call the city and the police on us.
I mean, seriously, Come on!
Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
The Ups and Downs of Pool Ownership
I have a love/hate relationship with many things in my life, however, if I had to name one thing that I love/hate the most it would have to be my pool.
When we first fell in love with the house that we currently own, I knew that the pool in the back yard was going to be more of a burden than a joy. You see, I have a cousin who owns a pool and had heard her tales of pool ownership woe once or twice before.
It's true that I was aware that owning a pool would be a pain in the butt, but the truth of the matter is that I didn't really even know the half of it.
The thing is that the pool is not brand new. Or even kind of new. It's old. Really old. Old enough that the plaster is wearing away and a few tiles here and there have jumped off of the pool wall in search of freedom. We have gotten quotes for pool restoration a couple times now, and we dream of owning a pool paradise. It's just that the pool paradise price tag is something in the ballpark of $16 grand.
And another thing. Whoever built a pool and then decided to plant a thousand palm trees all around it (ok, so maybe it's more like 15. But still...) obviously did not think that one through very well. As I have mentioned before, palm trees are dirty, and they create little teeny tiny flowers that are forever blowing off and landing not on the sidewalk, not on the grass, but in the pool, of course!
Keeping up with the pool has been the bane of my existence when Mike marches off on his deployments. It has turned green on me twice now. Once it was my fault. The second time was because of those lovely SoCal Wildfires that sent every ash, treebranch, leaf, and fleck of dirt in a 30 mile radius into our pool. It was a true joy, let me tell you.
But, you know, despite the facts that it isn't exactly brand new, I am constantly having to skim miniscule flowers from its surface, and it is my burden to bear during Mike's deployments, there's one thing about my pool that I have to admit is pretty darn awesome...
The sparkling blue water that calls my name on a hot summer day.
Since I returned from my 2 week adventure on the East Coast, Mike and I have been swimming pretty much every day. I love it. love it. love it. and love it some more. Sometimes I sit on the steps reading my book. Sometimes I float on a raft. Sometimes Mike and I take turns doing cannon balls into the deep end. Sometimes we play water volleyball. Sometimes we just spend a couple hours swimming, exploring, treading water, and floating on our backs. It is the life. Seriously.
I guess you could say that I hate my pool 9 months out of the year and love it for 3. I haven't quite made up my mind whether it's worth it yet, but what I do know is that wherever we go next (and whenever we go for that matter), I sure will miss the summer bliss of owning my very own pool.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
My Brother
While my sister and I have grown close in our old age, that was not the case when we were children. I was the bratty little sister who made fun of her when she started wearing bras and when pimples starting making their appearance on her face. I also would eavesdrop on her phone conversations and steal (borrow) things from her bedroom. I'm pretty sure I might have snuck a peak into her diary once or twice as well. I did it all out of love, but she didn't see it that way and so didn't really care for my company. When I was old enough to realize the best way to earn her affections was not through annoying the crap out of her, she was already out of the house and in college.
No, my sister was not my biggest fan, nor was she my partner in crime growing up. Those two titles went to my brother, Eric.
My fondest memories of my brother include:
*Conducting the "Ant Olympics" in our backyard sandbox. Events included ant races and ant swimming contests (whose ant could stay afloat in a bucket of water the longest before meeting its untimely death by drowning?).
*Attempting to build a playhouse. Which we didn't finish. Because at some point we realized that it was only big enough for one person curled into a small ball to fit into.
*Playing a game where we took turns locking each other out of the house, and having to find a way in. Popular solutions were crawling in through the kitchen window and crawling in through the bathroom window. One time I locked him out when we weren't playing, and he got a little bit upset. He kicked a door down, and I ran for dear life.
*Fighting, wrestling, kicking, hitting, pinching, biting (I think the pinching and biting were all me. I didn't play by the rules). We were very aggressive with each other, and despite the fact that he was 2 years older and sometimes 2 feet taller than me, he didn't always win those fights. I had sheer force of will on my side. For this reason, he will still warn people that I could most likely kick their butt in a fight, if I wanted it bad enough.
One summer Eric decided to be my personal basketball trainer. I was having a lot of trouble with my layups. For this reason he decided to tie my right hand and my right leg together and then forced me to do layup after layup. I think I got the message after that. Right hand goes up, so does right leg.
After a blizzard one winter where the snow drifts measured several feet high, we and some of our friends spent a night jumping off of our 2nd story deck onto the piles of snow. Some people were really brave and were even maneuvering somersaults off the deck. I wasn't quite that brave, myself.
When we were older teenagers, most of these shenanigans stopped. Instead of fighting and scheming, we spent many a summer night in our basement watching the real world and chowing on some late night mcdonalds, Sheetz hoagies, or KFC. (Hey we were both tall and gangly, we could do those kinds of things without a second thought.. then. He, unfortunately, still can. Me, not so much.)
There was a brief time when I was in 8th grade and Eric was in 10th that we had the same haircut. We looked like twins and people would comment on it all the time. I don't really know which one of us should have been more embarrassed over that one...
He, being the older brother with a license, was also kind enough to drive me around. A lot of big brothers would be embarassed to spend so much time with their little sister. But, not my brother.
When Eric finally left for college I cried. and cried. and cried.... and cried. What was I going to do without my best friend?
Of course, with Eric out of the house, our relationship did inevitably change a little bit.
But we were still known, every now and then, to be partners in crime once again. For example, one weekend while he was home, we stumbled upon the stash of candy my dad was planning to give us in our stockings for Christmas. It was several boxes of nerds, to be precise. So, we ate 80% of the nerds, glued the packages back together, and placed them back where we found them. We laughed hysterically when, a few months later on Christmas morning, we received those (mostly) empty packs of nerds in our stockings.
The day before I got married, Eric drove me to the bank, and told me that he had watched Mike and I grow together over the past few years. He said that he believed we were really good for each other. I took it as his blessing, and it meant the world to me.
Time and distance have brought us further apart than I would like to admit. But, I still love my brother just as much as ever, and I am still fiercely protective of him. Even though we haven't talked about it, I know for certain that he feels the same way about me.
I just feel really lucky to have a brother like him.
No, my sister was not my biggest fan, nor was she my partner in crime growing up. Those two titles went to my brother, Eric.
My fondest memories of my brother include:
*Conducting the "Ant Olympics" in our backyard sandbox. Events included ant races and ant swimming contests (whose ant could stay afloat in a bucket of water the longest before meeting its untimely death by drowning?).
*Attempting to build a playhouse. Which we didn't finish. Because at some point we realized that it was only big enough for one person curled into a small ball to fit into.
*Playing a game where we took turns locking each other out of the house, and having to find a way in. Popular solutions were crawling in through the kitchen window and crawling in through the bathroom window. One time I locked him out when we weren't playing, and he got a little bit upset. He kicked a door down, and I ran for dear life.
*Fighting, wrestling, kicking, hitting, pinching, biting (I think the pinching and biting were all me. I didn't play by the rules). We were very aggressive with each other, and despite the fact that he was 2 years older and sometimes 2 feet taller than me, he didn't always win those fights. I had sheer force of will on my side. For this reason, he will still warn people that I could most likely kick their butt in a fight, if I wanted it bad enough.
One summer Eric decided to be my personal basketball trainer. I was having a lot of trouble with my layups. For this reason he decided to tie my right hand and my right leg together and then forced me to do layup after layup. I think I got the message after that. Right hand goes up, so does right leg.
After a blizzard one winter where the snow drifts measured several feet high, we and some of our friends spent a night jumping off of our 2nd story deck onto the piles of snow. Some people were really brave and were even maneuvering somersaults off the deck. I wasn't quite that brave, myself.
When we were older teenagers, most of these shenanigans stopped. Instead of fighting and scheming, we spent many a summer night in our basement watching the real world and chowing on some late night mcdonalds, Sheetz hoagies, or KFC. (Hey we were both tall and gangly, we could do those kinds of things without a second thought.. then. He, unfortunately, still can. Me, not so much.)
There was a brief time when I was in 8th grade and Eric was in 10th that we had the same haircut. We looked like twins and people would comment on it all the time. I don't really know which one of us should have been more embarrassed over that one...
He, being the older brother with a license, was also kind enough to drive me around. A lot of big brothers would be embarassed to spend so much time with their little sister. But, not my brother.
When Eric finally left for college I cried. and cried. and cried.... and cried. What was I going to do without my best friend?
Of course, with Eric out of the house, our relationship did inevitably change a little bit.
But we were still known, every now and then, to be partners in crime once again. For example, one weekend while he was home, we stumbled upon the stash of candy my dad was planning to give us in our stockings for Christmas. It was several boxes of nerds, to be precise. So, we ate 80% of the nerds, glued the packages back together, and placed them back where we found them. We laughed hysterically when, a few months later on Christmas morning, we received those (mostly) empty packs of nerds in our stockings.
The day before I got married, Eric drove me to the bank, and told me that he had watched Mike and I grow together over the past few years. He said that he believed we were really good for each other. I took it as his blessing, and it meant the world to me.
Time and distance have brought us further apart than I would like to admit. But, I still love my brother just as much as ever, and I am still fiercely protective of him. Even though we haven't talked about it, I know for certain that he feels the same way about me.
I just feel really lucky to have a brother like him.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Huh?!
It's true that after spending 2 weeks with my 3-year-old nephew, I marveled over his language abilities and social skills.
Lucas regularly had me in hysterics over the very adult things that would come out of his mouth.
For example, one evening while having dinner on my mom's friend's deck, everyone was sitting at the table except for Lucas. He had finished his meal and was wandering around the deck with one of those walkway lights. Suddenly, that walkway light went crashing to the ground, and everyone immediately turned to look at Lucas. Thinking quickly, he exclaimed, "It wasn't me!"
Everyone, of course, burst into laughter. Where does this kid come up with these things?
There was one expression that regularly came flying out of his mouth, though, that was not true to his otherwise prodigy-like verbal skills.
"HUH?!" He would utter noisily when he didn't quite catch what you had just said to him.
It drove me bonkers. I wondered, where did this kid come up with this? And, then I realized his mother said it too. I figured she had taught him the bad habit.
But, now I'm not so sure. You see, lately, I have often been catching myself in the act of uttering that awful (can we even call it this?) word. Mike will call something out to me from inside the house to which I will loudly respond, "HUH?!"
I literally shudder every time I say it. Yet, I cannot seem to quit this horrible habit.
This is where I feel the need to apologize to my nephew and my sister for all the judgments I sent their way due to the use of this "word". It is a nasty habit and addiction that cannot easily be broken once it becomes part of your vocabulary. I now understand this to be true because of my first hand experience.
So, my dearest blog readers, I pray that you never come in contact with a "HUH?!" user. But if you do, for your own well-being as well as the well-being of your uninfected friends and family, turn around and run far, far away. This infection spreads like wildfire. If you're not careful, you will be its next victim.
Lucas regularly had me in hysterics over the very adult things that would come out of his mouth.
For example, one evening while having dinner on my mom's friend's deck, everyone was sitting at the table except for Lucas. He had finished his meal and was wandering around the deck with one of those walkway lights. Suddenly, that walkway light went crashing to the ground, and everyone immediately turned to look at Lucas. Thinking quickly, he exclaimed, "It wasn't me!"
Everyone, of course, burst into laughter. Where does this kid come up with these things?
There was one expression that regularly came flying out of his mouth, though, that was not true to his otherwise prodigy-like verbal skills.
"HUH?!" He would utter noisily when he didn't quite catch what you had just said to him.
It drove me bonkers. I wondered, where did this kid come up with this? And, then I realized his mother said it too. I figured she had taught him the bad habit.
But, now I'm not so sure. You see, lately, I have often been catching myself in the act of uttering that awful (can we even call it this?) word. Mike will call something out to me from inside the house to which I will loudly respond, "HUH?!"
I literally shudder every time I say it. Yet, I cannot seem to quit this horrible habit.
This is where I feel the need to apologize to my nephew and my sister for all the judgments I sent their way due to the use of this "word". It is a nasty habit and addiction that cannot easily be broken once it becomes part of your vocabulary. I now understand this to be true because of my first hand experience.
So, my dearest blog readers, I pray that you never come in contact with a "HUH?!" user. But if you do, for your own well-being as well as the well-being of your uninfected friends and family, turn around and run far, far away. This infection spreads like wildfire. If you're not careful, you will be its next victim.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Reading Survey
One book you’re currently reading: The Biography of Ann Frank by Melissa Muller
One book that changed your life: Dead Man Walking by Sister Helen Prejean
One book you’d want on a deserted island: The Twilight Series by Stephenie Meyer (sorry, couldn't just choose one book!)
One book you’ve read more than once: To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
One book you’ve never been able to finish: The Last Battle by C.S. Lewis
One book that made you laugh: Marley and Me by John Grogan (laughed out loud... constantly!)
One book that made you cry: The Outlander by Diana Gabaldon
One book you keep rereading: Mick Harte Was Here by Barbara Park
One book you’ve been meaning to read: Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin
One book you believe everyone should read: The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls
Grab the nearest book. Open it to page 56. Share the 5th sentence. "This was one of Phyllis's favorite phrases, along with 'Ceasar's wife is above reproach.'" - Family History by Dani Shapiro
One book that changed your life: Dead Man Walking by Sister Helen Prejean
One book you’d want on a deserted island: The Twilight Series by Stephenie Meyer (sorry, couldn't just choose one book!)
One book you’ve read more than once: To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
One book you’ve never been able to finish: The Last Battle by C.S. Lewis
One book that made you laugh: Marley and Me by John Grogan (laughed out loud... constantly!)
One book that made you cry: The Outlander by Diana Gabaldon
One book you keep rereading: Mick Harte Was Here by Barbara Park
One book you’ve been meaning to read: Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin
One book you believe everyone should read: The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls
Grab the nearest book. Open it to page 56. Share the 5th sentence. "This was one of Phyllis's favorite phrases, along with 'Ceasar's wife is above reproach.'" - Family History by Dani Shapiro
Friday, July 24, 2009
My Military Adventures
I believe I've mentioned once or twice that since marrying my military helicopter pilot husband, I have lived in 4 different states.
When we got married in September of 2004 (almost 5 years ago now, wow!) Mike was living in Corpus Christi, TX, going through primary flight training for the Marine Corps. We were married in my hometown in Pennsylvania, and Mike barely made it there for the weekend. He was told the day before he left, "Sorry, you're not going to be able to make it to your wedding." You see, he had an important flight, and the military absolutely believed that flight to be more important than our wedding day. That was my first real introduction to the crazy world of the military, and it hasn't ceased to amaze me since.
Needless to say, he made it to the wedding, albeit moments before we had to sign for the marriage license which was moments before our rehearsal began. I nearly had a heart attack. But, the moment he showed up, I let all anxiety go out the window. He was there, and that was all that mattered to me.
The morning after our beautiful, amazing, perfect wedding day, my parents drove my new husband, me, and my two large suitcases filled with my most valuable posessions to the airport where I kissed them goodbye, got on an airplane and officially started my new life with Mike in Corpus Christi, TX.
The whole thing was a little bit overwhelming in a this is me begining life's crazy adventures kind of way. I had visited Mike a few times in Corpus right before we got married and we had picked out an apartment together. His mom visited him before we got married too and so kindly filled our whole apartment with couches, beds, dressers, coffee tables, dining room table. It was her wedding present to us. The only downside was that I was not able to pick out my own furniture which is another long blog story, so I will not get into that now.
Suffice it to say, when I arrived in Texas, I already had a life all set up for me. It was a crazy thing.
I loved Corpus Christi. It was my first experience living somewhere with palm trees and I was at the time still awed by them, so that in and of itself, was exciting for me. Mike's flight training only took about 3 hours out of his day, so he'd be free after that to go to the beach, take a swim in our pool complex, go out in search of a dog....
Oh yeah. We bought a dog. Almost immediately. Little Ramsey, our border collie. My sister jokes that our first big purchase as a married couple was a dog. But, that's not entirely true. Truthfully, Ramsey only cost us $100. Our real and true first big wedding purchase was a washer and dryer, but that doesn't really make for an interesting story, does it?
I lived in Corpus Christi for exactly 4 months, and those 4 months were pretty awesome. We never did go on a honeymoon (umm.. remember that he was barely allowed to leave for the wedding, so a honeymoon was clearly out of the question!), but I kind of consider those 4 months in Corpus as a 4 month honeymoon. It was a 4 month vacation in a beach locale where Mike had to go off and work for a couple hours each day. We both agree that we would love to live in Corpus Christi again if ever given the opportunity.
Then one day Mike received a phone call from the militarypowersthatbe. The news was as follows: Congratulations! You are going to be a helicopter pilot! Your Advanced Helo training will be conducted at NAS Whiting Field (Milton, Florida). You will report there in 5 days.
............Excuse me? What did you say? I didn't quite catch that? You mean that you expect us to be uprooted and moved halfway across the country in 5 days? Well, that is entirely impossible, thankyouverymuch.
Apparently, anything is possible. Because wouldn't you know it, in only 4 days time, we had emptied out of our apartment, had our cars filled to the brim, and were on the road headed for Milton, Florida (located right outside of Pensacola).
I should have known something terrible would happen. The whole trip was rainy, gloomy, and foreboding from the getgo. About an hour, a measly hour, outside of Milton I watched as Mike's 1966 Mustang (which had only recently been fully restored) took a sharp left turn, spun into the grassy median, and landed on the other side of the highway heading straight into oncoming traffic. His car was then hit by two trucks before coming to a stop. I'll never forget letting out a blood curdling scream, pulling onto the shoulder, and stopping to look at my border collie who was dutifully sitting next to me in the passenger seat. At that moment, I definitely believed the worst. It seemed like forever went by, and then, Mike got out of the car. And started walking around. And I was amazed. and ohmygod I thought he was dead.
We ended up driving into Milton a day late and with one less car. But, we made it. When we pulled up to our little base housing duplex and got inside, Mike had to leave for a few hours to check in, and I sank down on a blanket with my border collie and just laid there. So this is military life, I thought to myself over and over.
Despite our flawed entrance to Florida, it turned out to be another great experience for us. Living on base was a unique experience where we lived in a huge neighborhood filled with tons of people exactly our own age going through the exact same life experiences we were. Everyone was newly or only a few years into marriage, in the military, and going through flight training. We quickly made friends with a core group of people who we hung out with every single weekend. We had poker nights that will forever go down in history in my memory. We drank and played poker and had the time of our lives and at the end of the night everyone walked home.. which was only just right down the street. Man, did we ever have it made. If I did the math, I'm sure that I would figure out that 98% of the military friends who we keep in contact with to this day, are friends we first met in Florida.
In Florida, while Mike went through his helicopter training, I worked at a private airport in town as the Dispatcher. It was a FUN job, and the really cool part about it was that I got to know and understand a lot about Mike's world of aviation.
In Florida we also survived a couple of hurricanes and tropical storms. We evacuated for Hurricane Dennis which did a number on our base housing neighborhood. And, we rode out Hurricane Katrina, which hit (obviously) West of us... and then being only an hour and a half from the center of the storm.. suffered through the fuel shortages and other madness that followed. I do remember having to wait in long lines for gas and opting out of long car trips in fear that we might not be able to find a gas station that had gas to fill us up when we ran low on fuel.
We got our 2nd dog in Florida, our husky Copper who I've had a love/notsolove relationship with every since.
Mike received those coveted wings of gold. I was so proud of him.
He put in his helicopter and destination selections with those powersthatbe. I was so anxious; I drank almost a full bottle of wine when he went in to find out what our future destination would be. The options were Japan, Hawaii, North Carolina, and San Diego. He came home and announced CH-53's - San Diego! And we laughed and hugged. And I called everyone I knew. And I turned up the music and danced around. We were so excited.
But before we could get to our final destination.. we had to make a stop in Jacksonville, North Carolina, so that Mike could be trained in the 53. We did it all again. We packed up our every posession. We filled our cars to the brim. We said our sad goodbyes to all the many friends we had made in Florida... we were on our way. I didn't realize until I got in the car to pull out of the driveway, that we were pulling out of that driveway exactly one year to the day after we had pulled into it.
North Carolina.... was.... interesting. North Carolina was a crappy apartment, no job for me, few friends, stress for Mike. But, it was also (finally) within driving distance of my family. And, oddly, only 15 minutes away from the town where my college roommate grew up and got married while we were living there. That couldn't possibly have worked out any better. We were only there for 5 months, and not a tear was shed when we had to pack it all up and head out again... for the third time in two years...
We were finally on our way to San Diego.. the promised land! Mike's parents were kind enough to make the long trip with us to ease the burden of driving. We took one car, they took the other. A long car trip across the country driving alone could possibly have been the end of my sanity. We took it slow, stopping to see the sites. We spent a day at the Grand Canyon, we stopped to see the ice cave in New Mexico, We saw the petrified forest, and the gigantic crater. We stopped in Vegas for a few days. We took pictures at the Hoover Dam. We saw the country. It was a great adventure.
It's funny, because I had never been to San Diego before, but everyone who spoke of it acted as though it were paradise. It's not surprising then, that I was literally, literally expecting for San Diego to be heaven on earth. For this reason, my first impression was a bit of disappointment.
Don't get me wrong. San Diego is an amazing city. I love it here. I will shed tears of sadness when it is time for us to go. But, imagine my surprise in entering the San Diego city limits and realizing it's a city just like any other city. Cleaner, better weather, more beautiful, sure. No heaven on earth, though. No Garden of Eden or anything of the sort.
Our first month in San Diego we lived in a hotel room with our dogs. Which, oddly, wasn't such a bad experience and is actually a fun memory. When anyone new comes to visit us, I always point out the hotel and say, "And that's where we lived for a month with our 2 dogs..." I think I'll always have a tender spot in my heart for that little hotel.
Mike's parents stuck around for a couple of weeks and helped us househunt and showed me the sites. They had lived in San Diego a couple of years before when Mike was in college. He spent his summers and holidays here so was also familiar with SD.
I had a couple of interviews at schools. I got a job. We found a house, and signed the papers. And when they knew for certain we were all settled in, Mike's parents got on a plane and headed back home. I remember being scared and sad to see them go. I was thinking, They're going to leave us here? Alone? It sure was nice to have them to lean on for those weeks in a new place making new and big decisions.
But they left. And we moved into our home. And I started my job. And Mike started flying in his squadron.
3 years, 1 natural disaster, 1 career change, and 2 deployments later.... here we are still. Living in San Diego and loving (almost) every second of it.
When I first landed in Corpus Christi, TX, 5 years ago I knew that it was only the beginning of a wild adventure. I just had no idea where that adventure would take me or just how wild it would be. The truth of the matter is that it has taken me places I never could have fathomed, and it has been more wild than my wildest imaginations.
And it has been worth it. Every second.
When we got married in September of 2004 (almost 5 years ago now, wow!) Mike was living in Corpus Christi, TX, going through primary flight training for the Marine Corps. We were married in my hometown in Pennsylvania, and Mike barely made it there for the weekend. He was told the day before he left, "Sorry, you're not going to be able to make it to your wedding." You see, he had an important flight, and the military absolutely believed that flight to be more important than our wedding day. That was my first real introduction to the crazy world of the military, and it hasn't ceased to amaze me since.
Needless to say, he made it to the wedding, albeit moments before we had to sign for the marriage license which was moments before our rehearsal began. I nearly had a heart attack. But, the moment he showed up, I let all anxiety go out the window. He was there, and that was all that mattered to me.
The morning after our beautiful, amazing, perfect wedding day, my parents drove my new husband, me, and my two large suitcases filled with my most valuable posessions to the airport where I kissed them goodbye, got on an airplane and officially started my new life with Mike in Corpus Christi, TX.
The whole thing was a little bit overwhelming in a this is me begining life's crazy adventures kind of way. I had visited Mike a few times in Corpus right before we got married and we had picked out an apartment together. His mom visited him before we got married too and so kindly filled our whole apartment with couches, beds, dressers, coffee tables, dining room table. It was her wedding present to us. The only downside was that I was not able to pick out my own furniture which is another long blog story, so I will not get into that now.
Suffice it to say, when I arrived in Texas, I already had a life all set up for me. It was a crazy thing.
I loved Corpus Christi. It was my first experience living somewhere with palm trees and I was at the time still awed by them, so that in and of itself, was exciting for me. Mike's flight training only took about 3 hours out of his day, so he'd be free after that to go to the beach, take a swim in our pool complex, go out in search of a dog....
Oh yeah. We bought a dog. Almost immediately. Little Ramsey, our border collie. My sister jokes that our first big purchase as a married couple was a dog. But, that's not entirely true. Truthfully, Ramsey only cost us $100. Our real and true first big wedding purchase was a washer and dryer, but that doesn't really make for an interesting story, does it?
I lived in Corpus Christi for exactly 4 months, and those 4 months were pretty awesome. We never did go on a honeymoon (umm.. remember that he was barely allowed to leave for the wedding, so a honeymoon was clearly out of the question!), but I kind of consider those 4 months in Corpus as a 4 month honeymoon. It was a 4 month vacation in a beach locale where Mike had to go off and work for a couple hours each day. We both agree that we would love to live in Corpus Christi again if ever given the opportunity.
Then one day Mike received a phone call from the militarypowersthatbe. The news was as follows: Congratulations! You are going to be a helicopter pilot! Your Advanced Helo training will be conducted at NAS Whiting Field (Milton, Florida). You will report there in 5 days.
............Excuse me? What did you say? I didn't quite catch that? You mean that you expect us to be uprooted and moved halfway across the country in 5 days? Well, that is entirely impossible, thankyouverymuch.
Apparently, anything is possible. Because wouldn't you know it, in only 4 days time, we had emptied out of our apartment, had our cars filled to the brim, and were on the road headed for Milton, Florida (located right outside of Pensacola).
I should have known something terrible would happen. The whole trip was rainy, gloomy, and foreboding from the getgo. About an hour, a measly hour, outside of Milton I watched as Mike's 1966 Mustang (which had only recently been fully restored) took a sharp left turn, spun into the grassy median, and landed on the other side of the highway heading straight into oncoming traffic. His car was then hit by two trucks before coming to a stop. I'll never forget letting out a blood curdling scream, pulling onto the shoulder, and stopping to look at my border collie who was dutifully sitting next to me in the passenger seat. At that moment, I definitely believed the worst. It seemed like forever went by, and then, Mike got out of the car. And started walking around. And I was amazed. and ohmygod I thought he was dead.
We ended up driving into Milton a day late and with one less car. But, we made it. When we pulled up to our little base housing duplex and got inside, Mike had to leave for a few hours to check in, and I sank down on a blanket with my border collie and just laid there. So this is military life, I thought to myself over and over.
Despite our flawed entrance to Florida, it turned out to be another great experience for us. Living on base was a unique experience where we lived in a huge neighborhood filled with tons of people exactly our own age going through the exact same life experiences we were. Everyone was newly or only a few years into marriage, in the military, and going through flight training. We quickly made friends with a core group of people who we hung out with every single weekend. We had poker nights that will forever go down in history in my memory. We drank and played poker and had the time of our lives and at the end of the night everyone walked home.. which was only just right down the street. Man, did we ever have it made. If I did the math, I'm sure that I would figure out that 98% of the military friends who we keep in contact with to this day, are friends we first met in Florida.
In Florida, while Mike went through his helicopter training, I worked at a private airport in town as the Dispatcher. It was a FUN job, and the really cool part about it was that I got to know and understand a lot about Mike's world of aviation.
In Florida we also survived a couple of hurricanes and tropical storms. We evacuated for Hurricane Dennis which did a number on our base housing neighborhood. And, we rode out Hurricane Katrina, which hit (obviously) West of us... and then being only an hour and a half from the center of the storm.. suffered through the fuel shortages and other madness that followed. I do remember having to wait in long lines for gas and opting out of long car trips in fear that we might not be able to find a gas station that had gas to fill us up when we ran low on fuel.
We got our 2nd dog in Florida, our husky Copper who I've had a love/notsolove relationship with every since.
Mike received those coveted wings of gold. I was so proud of him.
He put in his helicopter and destination selections with those powersthatbe. I was so anxious; I drank almost a full bottle of wine when he went in to find out what our future destination would be. The options were Japan, Hawaii, North Carolina, and San Diego. He came home and announced CH-53's - San Diego! And we laughed and hugged. And I called everyone I knew. And I turned up the music and danced around. We were so excited.
But before we could get to our final destination.. we had to make a stop in Jacksonville, North Carolina, so that Mike could be trained in the 53. We did it all again. We packed up our every posession. We filled our cars to the brim. We said our sad goodbyes to all the many friends we had made in Florida... we were on our way. I didn't realize until I got in the car to pull out of the driveway, that we were pulling out of that driveway exactly one year to the day after we had pulled into it.
North Carolina.... was.... interesting. North Carolina was a crappy apartment, no job for me, few friends, stress for Mike. But, it was also (finally) within driving distance of my family. And, oddly, only 15 minutes away from the town where my college roommate grew up and got married while we were living there. That couldn't possibly have worked out any better. We were only there for 5 months, and not a tear was shed when we had to pack it all up and head out again... for the third time in two years...
We were finally on our way to San Diego.. the promised land! Mike's parents were kind enough to make the long trip with us to ease the burden of driving. We took one car, they took the other. A long car trip across the country driving alone could possibly have been the end of my sanity. We took it slow, stopping to see the sites. We spent a day at the Grand Canyon, we stopped to see the ice cave in New Mexico, We saw the petrified forest, and the gigantic crater. We stopped in Vegas for a few days. We took pictures at the Hoover Dam. We saw the country. It was a great adventure.
It's funny, because I had never been to San Diego before, but everyone who spoke of it acted as though it were paradise. It's not surprising then, that I was literally, literally expecting for San Diego to be heaven on earth. For this reason, my first impression was a bit of disappointment.
Don't get me wrong. San Diego is an amazing city. I love it here. I will shed tears of sadness when it is time for us to go. But, imagine my surprise in entering the San Diego city limits and realizing it's a city just like any other city. Cleaner, better weather, more beautiful, sure. No heaven on earth, though. No Garden of Eden or anything of the sort.
Our first month in San Diego we lived in a hotel room with our dogs. Which, oddly, wasn't such a bad experience and is actually a fun memory. When anyone new comes to visit us, I always point out the hotel and say, "And that's where we lived for a month with our 2 dogs..." I think I'll always have a tender spot in my heart for that little hotel.
Mike's parents stuck around for a couple of weeks and helped us househunt and showed me the sites. They had lived in San Diego a couple of years before when Mike was in college. He spent his summers and holidays here so was also familiar with SD.
I had a couple of interviews at schools. I got a job. We found a house, and signed the papers. And when they knew for certain we were all settled in, Mike's parents got on a plane and headed back home. I remember being scared and sad to see them go. I was thinking, They're going to leave us here? Alone? It sure was nice to have them to lean on for those weeks in a new place making new and big decisions.
But they left. And we moved into our home. And I started my job. And Mike started flying in his squadron.
3 years, 1 natural disaster, 1 career change, and 2 deployments later.... here we are still. Living in San Diego and loving (almost) every second of it.
When I first landed in Corpus Christi, TX, 5 years ago I knew that it was only the beginning of a wild adventure. I just had no idea where that adventure would take me or just how wild it would be. The truth of the matter is that it has taken me places I never could have fathomed, and it has been more wild than my wildest imaginations.
And it has been worth it. Every second.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
husky vs. border collie
I recently decided that for my next life I'd like to come back as a Siberian Husky(left).
Because people will stop and admire my beauty everywhere I go, and I will get to sleep 99% of my life away.
Or, I suppose I could come back as a border collie (right).
I've often said that if my border collie were a human he would be an olympic athlete, and I think being an Olympic athlete would be pretty sweet.
It's just that I'd rather be admired for my beauty and sleep all the time. Call me crazy.
It's just that I'd rather be admired for my beauty and sleep all the time. Call me crazy.
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