The Future

Every now and then I'll be minding my own business, going about my life when all the sudden out of absolutely nowhere I will be broadsided with a horror-stricken thought.

MY FUTURE IS 100% UP-IN-THE-AIR! I HAVE NO CONTROL OVER ANYTHING! PANIC!

There are certain people in my life who regularly ask me if we know whether we're going to stay in San Diego or not yet.

The answer is no.

No idea. We have no idea. Not only do we have no idea, but we also have no idea when we will find out. Mike** thinks it could be a year before anything changes. He hopes this, for reasons that are too Marine Corps complicated for me to get into right now.

The awful and scary truth of the matter is that a month from now Mike could find out he's being stationed in Japan. You think I'm kidding?

I wish I were.

I'm concerned about our up-in-the-air future more than I ever have been in the past for a couple of very good reasons.

1) We own a house. In San Diego. In this housing market. So, if we have to leave we are going to find ourselves in an interesting predicament - to which I am certain the only answer will be RENTING our house. Which is another nightmare in and of itself.

2) I hate my job. There. I finally said it. I loathe going to work. It is a toxic environment and the toxins have sucked me in. If I were to find out I was moving and didn't have to go back to work next year, on some levels I would actually breathe a gigantic sigh of relief. Moving would mean I wouldn't have to feel obligated to continue to be gainfully employed at that place. If I'm still here, I have no good excuse to leave. It's a job. In this economy. I must keep it.

3) I want to get pregnant. Very. Very. Badly. Having a future that is completely up in the air is not the greatest circumstance for planning the start of a family. Thus, for now, I am left just really really wanting to get pregnant and really really wondering when it will be an okay time to do so.

And there you have it. It's amazing that I go about life all the time convincing myself that I am just a regular person leading a regular life when clearly that is not the case at all. I am a person standing in the middle of a forest with a thousand possible paths all around me - waiting for someone to show up and point me in the direction I'm supposed to go.

No matter which path is chosen for us, I am certain of two things: It will be a challenge, but we will be OK.

I'll keep you posted.

**I've given up on calling him Hubby and will be calling my husband by his real name MIKE from now on.

One Hell of a Week

This has been a hell of a week for a couple of reasons.

First of all, I had to brave the doctor's office this week. I HATE going to the doctor. I probably would never have gone except that my husband threatened to call my mom and tell her I needed to go if I didn't call and make an appointment. (He knew that my mom hassling me about it would be the only thing that could get me to do it.. smart guy that he is). After I made the appointment, I considered backing out of the appointment several times. I convinced myself there wasn't really anything wrong with me and the doctor was going to think I was silly for coming to see her in the first place. Well, I ended up going and my doctor ended up doing the opposite of telling me I was stupid for coming in to see her. She actually took my problem very seriously. Go figure.

Second of all, my husband's best friend is in town. For NINE days. Yep, you heard me right. No, that's not a typo. I'm generally annoyed by my husband when he is around said best friend, so I wasn't necesserily dreading the visit, but wasn't looking forward to it either. Luckily, I've been working every day this week and when I get home I'm too exhausted to worry about them, so I've just been letting them do their own thing. I have also learned over the last 4 years of marriage that if I get annoyed that's my choice. So, I'm choosing to try really hard to not be annoyed by Hubby and Friend and to just let them have their boy time while it lasts. I'm holding strong for now, but prayers would be rather helpful. ;)

Third of all, I have had it up to my eyeballs with teenage angst. I understand that it's natural for all teenagers to think the world revolves around them, but I've had about enough of that for one lifetime, so I had a little bit of a teacher breakdown yesterday. Luckily, it occurred after the students had left the classroom. I locked myself in my room, put my head on my desk, and screamed inside of my head, "WHY ME?!!?!?!?!" Then, I drove home, came up with a game plan, and came back to school and laid down the law for them today. After I got through talking to them this morning I am 250% certain that not a single one of them is the slightest bit confused about my expectations for them for the rest of the year. *Crossing My Fingers* !

Fourth of all, I found out that my school is in worse shape than I had even realized. Not only might all the teachers be taking a pay cut next year, but we will be losing even more staff. No, don't you worry, my job is not in jeopardy. In fact, as far as I can see, I'm an all star player and without me the jr. high would shatter into tiny pieces. My only concern is how in the world the school could possibly survive with any less staff than it currently has. We are already terribly short-staffed with teachers doing double classes and everyone working way too hard for the crappy salaries we're receiving. But alas, what will be will be. My plans are to only stick around for another year anyway, so I guess my only real worry is HOW IN THE WORLD AM I GOING TO MANAGE TO GET THROUGH NEXT YEAR?!

Fifth of all...
Ok, so maybe there is no fifth of all. But, I do want to add that if any of my students were to read this blog they would be appalled. No, not because of all of my complaints and negativity (though, I am very anti-negativity in the classroom), but because my transitions are so boring. First of all, second of all, third of all, fourth of all.... I would never let one of my students fly with that kind of shabby writing technique.

*Sigh.

It's been a hell of a week.

Stress, Horsepaths, and Decisions

Today was another stressful day at work. The school that I work at is in such dire straits, and everyone is so overworked that everyone just seems to avoid each other. It's sad, really. It appears as though the school won't be closing down next year, but the pre-school is in danger of closing and the latest word on the street is that all the teachers are going to be taking a pay cut next year.


Lately, while driving the 40 minutes from work to home and going over the day in my mind, I just can't wait to get home and take my border collie on a walk. Usually Hubby and the Husky come with us, but sometimes it's just Ramsey and me. Walking my dog daily is something that I've only recently begun to do, and I have to tell you, it is the greatest de-stresser in the world. San Diego has the perfect being outside weather, and my neighborhood, as I'm finding out, is the coolest place in the world. What I wouldn't give to be a kid living in the neighborhood I live in now and spend my days exploring it with my friends.

There are big hills all surrounding our neighborhood, and recently, Hubby and I discovered that there are dirt paths all throughout these hills. We have been venturing out into these paths daily. (Note: I do NOT take these paths when walking alone). We always pass people walking their dogs, we often pass kids exploring the paths on their bikes, and just the other day we were passed by a horse and its rider. I'm surprised we don't pass horses more often because these paths are actually horse paths (evidence of this is large piles of horse poop we also pass regularly), and it's my suspicion that the land belongs to the horsefarm about a mile down the road. Luckily, the farm owners don't seem to mind allowing the public free reign on their land, because the people of my neighborhood sure are taking full advantage of it.

I really am torn about the future. I so love my house, my neighborhood, and San Diego. I so hate being so far from my family. Do you see my predicament?

Lucky for me, my future isn't up to me. Sometimes it's actually nice to let the Marine Corps make the decisions for me.

At Least I Tried?

Yesterday while walking to my car in a shopping center parking lot, I noticed a homeless man who was approaching people and asking them for money. I tried to slow my pace a bit so as not to walk right past him, but he stopped along his path and thus turned to me, looked me right in the eyes, and said, "Excuse me, could you spare some change?"

It was at this point that I went through a quick internal battle. You see, I am not one of those people who thinks you shouldn't give money to homeless people because they will "just use it on drugs or alcohol -- and why don't they get a job, anyway?" --

Quite the contrary. Every time I walk or drive past a homeless person without giving him or her money, I feel bad. Really. Really. Bad. Bad all the way down to the pit of my stomach. I feel bad that I have so much and they have so little. And, I also believe firmly that if someone is in need, it is not my place to judge why they are in need or what they are going to use the money for. I have money. They do not. It all seems very straight forward and simple to me.

And, after attending a retreat on Friday in which we talked about seeing Jesus in your neighbor, friend, stranger on the street, etc. it was especially striking to me that this man had looked me in the eyes and very earnestly asked me for some money.

All that said, however, I do have a firm rule with myself. I give money if it's easily accessible. I will not stop in the middle of the street, unzip my purse, and go through my wallet in search of some bills or loose change. So, because I did not have any money at hand, with a heavy heart, I told this man the only thing I could think to say, "Sorry."

After I got in my car, though, I realized the man was still in the parking lot. So, I got a couple dollars from my wallet and proceeded to drive close to where he was walking. When I got close, I rolled my windown down and called, "Excuse me, Sir"
He didn't answer. So, I drove a little closer and called again just a little bit louder, "EXCUSE ME, SIR!" - Nothing.

At this point, I became self-conscious. What must all of the other people in the parking lot think of this woman who was clearly driving behind/stalking this homeless man in the parking lot.

So, I drove away.

I felt so awful. I wanted to give him money. I tried to give him money. If only he would have heard me.

Maybe I should have tried harder. Yelled louder. Gotten out of my car. Given him money when he first asked?

I don't know. All I know is I can't stop thinking about this situation with this man. And, I know I want to do something to make up for it.

I haven't yet made a decision about what I will do for Lent this year. But, now I'm thinking, maybe I can regularly donate to some worthwhile groups or causes. One of my fellow teachers is an active member of the Catholic Worker here in San Diego. Maybe I can start donating to her organization on a regular basis.

Yes, in fact, that sounds like a great idea. I think I will do just that.

Sarah, the Playwright

Did you know that besides writing incredibly amazing blog entries (hehe, haha, hoho), I am also a playwright?

No, you say? Allow me to elaborate.

I have been writing plays for the fine arts performances at my school. We do this crazy thing where we incorporate music, drama, and dance into one big performance three times a year with three different groups of students. Besides being one of the greatest stresses of my life, it is also quite a rewarding experience watching the students perform their hearts out.

This year we bought a choral revue that goes from the 60's to the 90's and explores different popular music from each era. The music students sing the songs, the dance students dance to the songs, and where does drama fit into this equation? That's where I step in with my amazing playwright abilities (hehe, haha, hoho).

No, but really. That's where I step in. It might not be Broadway material, but I sure am proud of myself for what I've done so far. I thought that all my creativity was sucked out of me during those awkward adolescent years. I thought wrong.

Something I have never done...

Writing Prompt: "Something I have never done but would like to do is...."

When I think of this prompt the first thing that pops into my head is go on vacation with Hubby. Preferably somewhere beachy. Mexico, Hawaii, the Caribbean. Preferably with a swim up bar. Sure we've been all over the country together. In fact, we've lived in more states than some people have visited, but we've never gone on a trip, just the two of us. We got jipped out of a honeymoon because Hubby was in flight school when we got married and was barely allowed to leave for the weekend, let alone have a honeymoon. And, every other time we've considered taking a trip we've always decided that the money would be better spent elsewhere.. buying something we both wanted or traveling to visit family. I know that if we don't go on a trip together.. and do it soon.. (i.e. before kids) it will be one of those things I'll regret.

...Speaking of kids... something that I've never done before but am really DYING to do is BE PREGNANT. I drown out anyone who has anything negative to say about pregnancy. I really think it must be the coolest thing in the whole world to have a baby growing inside of you. I look at pregnant woment with curiousity every time I see them and wonder if there's ever a moment that goes by that they forget that amazing miracle that is happening inside of them.

Proud of My Marine

The big homecoming day that I waited for for 7 months has come and gone. Hubby is safe and sound here at home with his dogs and his wife, just as he should be. And, we are settling into life as a married couple again.

Just like last time, as soon as he walked down that road and landed in my arms, we got right into our stride without so much as a misstep. It's been wonderful.

And, now I'd like to switch the subject of this blog around a bit and tell you how proud I am of my marine.

If you were around for my early blogging days, you realize that during his first deployment he was 1) a pilot and 2) the lowest man on the totem pole 3) miserable and 4) stationed in Al Asad (which is affectionately referred to as "Camp Cupcake")

Now let me tell you a little something about this deployment. It was a totally different story. This time, Hubby was part of a transition team of 10 men whose job it was to mentor their Iraqi counterparts, and, in short, teach them how to be more efficient/honest/organized in guarding their own borders. This involved regular contact with the Iraqis, meals shared, interpreters/learning the language, etc. While during his last deployment, I'm certain that he only ever saw Iraqis from the ground while flying his helicopter... or the Iraqi prisoners who came on board his helicopter handcuffed and ready to be escorted to prison... this time his entire deployment was based on communication and comradery with them.

This time, instead of enjoying the luxuries of Camp Cupcake (hot showers, indoor plumbing, PIZZA PLACES, a cook, etc) Hubby and his team found themselves on the border of Syria in "the most remote and austere location in Iraq". I quoted that, because it's a fact, not an exaggeration. Here in the middle of nowhere they were provided with two showers a week (taken from a water truck that Hubby reports that Iraqis also used as a fuel truck - GROSS), no indoor plumbing, and a hot plate, a microwave, and supplies to cook their own food. As I imagine you have already figured out, there was no pizza place at their border fort.

When a Colonel visited the base shortly before their 7 months were up, he referred to them as "fucking Spartans" because they were 10 men holding together a border fort in the middle of absolutely nowhere for 7 months. (Forgive me for my language: I had to add the f-bomb because it really gives you the authentic "marine" feel)

Just as Hubby was without a doubt the lowest man on the pilot totem pole last deployment, this time, as fate would have it, he went as the commanding officer. No, it is not typical for a Captain to be the commanding officer of transition team. In fact, he was the first ever Captain to be the commanding officer of a transition team. This was all due to the fact that the Senior Major (meaning he'd been a Major for quite a long time and should soon be moving past that rank) was in a car accident 2 weeks before the deployment and was unable to go with the team. This left my husband, a marine who had only recently made the rank of Captain, and who was actually the youngest man on the team, the highest ranking officer on the team and therefore none other than the Commanding Officer.

An interesting turn of events, wouldn't you say?

Anyone other than my husband - who never gets nervous - would have been shaking in their shoes at all of the responsibility suddenly thrown on their shoulders. But, he took it all in stride. And - now I'm finally getting back to the part where I tell you how proud I am of him - he did an excellent job. After spending so much time at the bottom, he really learned a lot about what it means to be on the top. A man who hates the idea of anyone disliking him had to come to terms with the fact that not every marine on his team was going to love him all the time, or even agree with his decisions. He finally came to understand why in the past his commanding officers were so hard on him for the mistakes that he made - because he realized that those mistakes reflected negatively on them, too. He learned so much. He did such an incredible job.

Proof of that is that a Lt. Colonel recommended him for a bronze star for taking on a Major's billet (job assignment) and for leading one of the most successful border tranisition teams in Iraq.

Like I said, so proud.

The only problem I'm having with him post-deployment is that after taking 2 showers a week for 7 months he doesn't seem to think that he needs to take a shower every day. AND, he also doesn't feel the need to use utensils when he eats.. because... "it's the Iraqi culture to eat with your hands." First order of business = break Hubby of horrible habits.

But, really, even if he doesn't think he needs to shower daily and eats mashed potatoes with his hands, I really am so very proud of my marine.