Tomorrow Is Another Day...

Here I Go Again On My Own

And just like that, Colby is gone.

This deployment has been hanging over our head for about 10 months now, and yet it still managed to totally sneak up and blindside me.  I thought I was handling it so well.  I've been bracing myself for what seems like ages and almost hoping that D-Day would just get here so we could get it underway, then yesterday rolled around and I spent the whole day feeling utterly sick.  In fact, I actually think I'm handling this deployment worse than any of the previous three.  

Maybe it's because this has been such an emotionally draining year, and I expected things to be so different when this deployment rolled around.  Maybe it's because the thought of going through all of the holidays alone and then handling January and February--already my least favorite part of the year--is such a depressing thought.  Maybe it's because as much as I look forward to Colby's return home, I am dreading the coming of spring and all of the financial, emotional and physical stress that we'll have to face in our journey toward parenthood.  But any way I justify it, I can't remember feeling this bleak in the face of ~120 days apart.

Our first deployment was when I was still living in Arkansas, so I wasn't able to go to the deployment drop off.  The second deployment, Colby was on something called an Advon team--a small group of the squadron who leaves a few days early to arrive at the deployed location and make sure everything is set up properly and ready for the transition--so I did go to drop him off.  However, there were only a few other families present and one of my fellow spouse friends was a maintenance officer so we were actually able to go out on the plane to say goodbye to our husbands thanks to her connections.  Then last year, I left for Japan the day before the deployment, so my mind was distracted from the initial few days of his absence.  So last night was the first time I went to drop Colby off at the terminal, Hollywood movie style, and it was dreadful.

We walked into that room and everything felt wrong.  The lights were too bright.  The faces were pinched.  What laughter we did hear sounded forced and too loud.  People were sitting or standing around in small clusters, some staring blankly ahead, some trying too hard to pretend everything was totally normal.  It was terrible.  We dragged all of Colby's bags in, then immediately escaped back outside to say our goodbyes.  I can't imagine how other spouses stay there for hours waiting for the blade to fall.

 I think we were both trying to put on a brave face, but even Colby seemed more shaken up by this deployment than by others.  I struggled to stay calm, but couldn't help a few tears sneaking out, then as soon as he was gone, the dam broke.  It actually felt amazing to just let myself sob like an infant for a little while, and when I got home I consoled myself with a night of junk food and Project Runway (although the outcome of that only made me sadder), and eventually got to sleep.

Tonight I'm going to a friend's house to drink wine and eat junk food with some other girls, and I have dinner plans for Sunday.  I'm already counting down to my parents visiting in three weeks, and as much as we're pinching our pennies right now, I've worked a few trips out to visit friends into our budget and a nice long visit home for Christmas.  I know that I'll get through this, and we'll be that much stronger at the end of it.  I'm so, so incredibly proud of what Colby does, and cannot imagine my life any other way.  But oh... this just blows.

Infertility Information Overload

We met with our reproductive endocrinologist (RE) for the first time yesterday.  We were incredibly impressed with his knowledge and his level of detail while still explaining things to us in a way that we could understand.  We were also incredibly overwhelmed with the amount of information we came away with from our appointment.

Part of our meet n' greet was an internal ultrasound to check out the state of my Lovely Lady Lumps: Ovary Edition.  Let me tell you, there are few things in life more awkward than spreading your legs in a miniscule room with a doctor, a nurse, an intern, and your husband gazing at your reproductive organs rendered in fuzzy black and white.  Except for maybe the act of giving birth.  I'll consider this training.

Unfortunately, we came away from that experience with less than optimal news than what the doctor on base indicated when he said that my test results looked "good".  Our RE was only able to locate eight follicles, instead of the 10-20 that he explained most non-reproductively challenged women would have.  He thinks my reproductive organs might be a little farther along in the aging process than they should be, but he also pointed out that some of the follicles may have just been hidden by a cyst that was also present on one of my ovaries.  I'll do some more testing this month and we'll reassess when we get that information.

Colby will also repeat his testing to make sure he wasn't just having a bad day, and will visit a urologist at the end of this month to rule out any physical issues.  Despite what some anonymous commenters may believe, we do not find this embarrassing, shameful or in any way detrimental to his status as a man.  In fact, male factor infertility is the sole cause for 20% of couples facing infertility and a contributing cause to 30-40%.  I'll bet that seems like a pretty high number to you.  Know why you didn't know that?  Because no one talks about it.  Because they are worried about reactions just like ones we've faced.  

Ability to reproduce is not the measure of a man or woman, it is not a reflection of how good or frequent the sex is--as our doctor put it yesterday, it is simply an egg meeting the sperm through some sort of delivery system.  If you're fortunate enough to be one of those lucky people who has been able to conceive easily, please don't think that those of us who aren't so fortunate are somehow embarrassed or consider ourselves to be "less than" in any way.  We wouldn't be ashamed if our kidneys didn't function properly, or if our blood sugar didn't regulate properly, so why on earth would infertility be any different? /Tangent

We were also given two huge packets outlining our Intrauterine Insemination (IUI) and Invitro Fertilization (IVF) options, including how the procedure works and a breakdown of all the costs.  Tricare doesn't cover any treatment after a diagnosis of infertility, so with the exception of some monitoring costs which are covered, everything will be out of pocket.  Each round of IUI will cost in the neighborhood of $1200, and depending on which IVF package is chosen, it will cost anywhere from $11,000-20,000--neither of those numbers include meds which we would purchase separately and can cost from $200-400 for IUI and $2000-4000 for IVF.

Enter sticker shock.

So, that's where we are now.  Our doctor is confident that by the time Colby leaves for his deployment, we'll have a plan and will be ready to go ahead with either IUI or IVF when he returns home in the Spring.  Obviously, none of this is ideal.  We joke about it as a defense mechanism, because it is absolutely the most terrifying, heartbreaking, unfair situation we've ever faced.  We are overwhelmed, not only by all of the physical demands of these procedures, but also the staggering costs.  I find myself on the verge of tears throughout the day, any time I think about our options, hence the joking to make the scariness a little more bearable.

We were saying last night that our doctor had better include some kind of academic screening to only pick the smart sperm, because that kiddo is going to be spending any potential college funds just being conceived.  We're going to need some scholarship-level brainiacs.  Either that or a reality tv show.  What do you think:  Angela & Colby + Embryo.  That could work!

Past, Present, Future

I've been spending an awful lot more time lately traveling and recapping trips than keeping the old blawg up to date on my day to day life.  Posts have been a bit sparse because we've had a pretty busy time of it.  October is a huge transition month for us, with lots of good things leading up to the huuuuuge bummer that is Colby's next 120-day deployment.  We've been dreading it for ages--probably ever since we found out that it would be less than a year from his last return that he would leave again--so in a way, I think we're ready to just get it started so it will be over soon.
Last week, my fabulous friend, Jessica, and her recently aquired husband visited Charleston for a few days.  I crashed their romantic vacation a few times, making awkward Sister Wife jokes, and the highlight was certainly our dinner at the much buzzed about restaurant, Husk.  From being Bon Appetit's recently named #1 new restaurant in America, to Sam Sifton, the New York Times restaurant critic (and soon to be National Editor), calling it the best place to eat outside of New York City, Husk is possibly one of the most talked about restaurants in the country, and certainly in the South.  

From the website: At Husk there are some rules about what can go on the plate. “If it doesn’t come from the South, it’s not coming through the door,” says Brock, who has even stricken olive oil from the kitchen. As he explains, the resulting cuisine “is not about rediscovering Southern cooking, but exploring the reality of Southern food.”

And it was absolutely delicious.  I could have eaten an entire vat of the bacon and cheese grits, and my seared duck breast seemed to melt in my mouth.  Everyone else was thrilled with their meals as well, and given that the menu changes every day based on what is in season and locally available, I'm looking forward to seeing what the options will be at a different time of the year.  

Jessica and I also did some damage on the shops on King Street, and tried out the seafood at Coast restaurant.  Verdict: Decent food, TERRIBLE service.  It was so much fun to relive our memories of meeting in Ireland when we were just wee little college students, and it was great to get to know her husband better.

Once they left town, the weather shifted drastically, and Fall was upon us.  I've been enjoying my boots and new sweaters and plan to enjoy these cool temperatures for as long as they last.  I spent Saturday night drinking wine around a firepit with friends, and it was the perfect way to welcome in the new season.

Today, we're bracing ourselves for our first visit with a reproductive endocrinologist at a local fertility center.  I've been researching the doctors and the clinic success rates online, and I'm feeling incredibly hopeful about what we'll discuss today.  More on that later.

As for the rest of the month, we're heading to an LSU game in Tennessee on the 15th, then driving down to Louisiana to spend some time with Colby's family.  I'm looking forward to seeing the Tigers continue their incredible winning streak in Knoxville, and having someone to split the drive home with me!  But we'll leave it at that, because after we get back home comes the depressing part of the month, and right now I just want to focus on the good.

Happy and Healthy

I don't even know where to begin talking about the last few days.  I've had Colby with me, I've gotten to cuddle a baby, we've gotten piles and piles of much needed rain... it has been so good.  A lot of my focus lately has been centered on the part of my life that isn't going the way I want.  Nine months ago, I thought that I would have a baby either in my arms right now, or soon to be arriving.  The past couple of months have been extremely difficult in that regard.  It's a challenge reconciling my expectations with reality.  That being said, all is NOT sadness in my life.  The moments of sadness are there, but overall, I am so lucky with the lot that I've been dealt.

I suppose in the wise words of Maria von Trapp, let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start.  Friday, Colby got home from a week in New Mexico and Colorado where he'd had a fun hiking, camping, and fishing trip with one of his oldest friends.  That night, we met a friend at the incredible Ted's Butcherblock for one of their delicious $12 dinners and $5 wine tastings.  I seriously think these Friday night dinners are the best deal going in Charleston.  On Friday, we had delicious curried pork in a sort of falafel/meatball combination, served over eggplant, a pita and drizzled with tzaziki, with a bean salad on the side.  Dessert was a huge slab of carrot cake with a creme anglaise, and I could have eaten about ten more servings of it--it was just that good.

On Saturday, we went over to another friend's house so that we could meet her precious, perfect 1-week-old baby boy.  He is still at that limp noodle stage of infancy that terrifies me so much, because they just feel so BREAKABLE, but I managed to hold him without crushing him, and then died at the cuteness of Colby cuddling him as well.  It was admittedly a little bittersweet, but I am just so happy for my friend, and so excited to have a new baby in my life to watch grow over the years.  After baby time, we finally got around to seeing Bridesmaids, and we both got some much needed laughs.

Sunday was a relaxing chill day, just catching up on the DVR.  This week, Colby has been getting off work early, so we've been enjoying our evenings together.  Ever since the cleanse, I've been on quite a healthy eating kick (combined with a little Ben & Jerry's because I had to try Late Night Snack--CHOCOLATE COVERED POTATO CHIPS, people!), so we've been cooking up some tasty meals, I've been keeping up with my workouts, and I've discovered the most delicious way to incorporate fruits and vegetables into my daily routine--Green Monsters!  I just toss some flax seeds, a couple big handfulls of spinach, a banana, and some chocolate soy milk into a blender and liquify.  Then chop in some ice, and voila, chocolate banana smoothie.  It is SO GOOD, and I've been drinking one every day for my afternoon snack.

So, that's been my week, not all ups, but certainly not all downs either.  I'm working very hard to focus on all of the good in my life, and not take it for granted.  Unfortunately, Colby is leaving today for a work trip, but he'll be home in less than two weeks, and then we'll be heading off somewhere for almost three weeks of togetherness away from home.  Life is good.  I could complain, but today, I won't.

Elusive Sleep

Last night I was in bed before 10 o'clock.  I read a chapter of my book just to help wind down, but I was abnormally exhausted and I'd been fighting off a bad headache since the afternoon, so I was really looking forward to sleeping.  At about 10 after 10, I turned off the light, rolled over and closed my eyes, prepared to drift off into dreamland.

I proceeded to toss and turn for the next two hours, and then woke up five or six times during the night before my alarm went off at 8 o'clock.  I wish that this wasn't the norm, but unfortunately, this is just how sleeping is and always has been for me.  It's part of the reason I typically wait until around midnight to finally begin the falling asleep process, hoping that I'll be so tired that maybe I'll drift off quickly and naturally.  I used to take my precious 3 mg melatonin about 30 minutes before going to bed, but I've read some research that has shown it can be detrimental to conception, so I no longer have even that crutch.  It's just me, the bed, and the stupid clock.

To add insult to injury, I happen to be married to a man who could easily compete in falling asleep races.  His head touches the pillow and he is instantaneously unconscious.  If he happens to stay awake for five or ten minutes, he flops around like a dying fish, cursing the heavens for the tragedy of beng unable to asleep.  So, on the few nights that he is home, sleeping beside me, not only do I have the frustration of insomnia, but I'm also fuming over the snoring emanating from the other side of the bed.

I have a theory that the kind of sleeper we are as a baby is indicative of the kind of sleeper we will be our whole lives.  When I was an infant, evidently the one drawback to my perfect baby self was my complete lack of interest in sleeping.  This continued into my childhood, when I would sneak under my comforter with a flashlight and some books, or play with my stuffed animals, or sit by the door of my bedroom, listening to whatever it was my parents were watching on tv.  I couldn't fall asleep easily, even then.  I remember, laying in bed, counting the cycles of the ceiling fan, attempting to hypnotize myself into sleep.

On the other hand, a part of the lore pertaining to my little sister's perfection is that she was an amazing sleeper.  To this day, it's shocking to me how quickly she falls asleep and how hard she sleeps.  When we travel together or are home together, we usually sleep in the same bed or bedroom, and I'm constantly waking up to her cellphone buzzing or her alarm going off while she sleeps tranquilly through the cacophony of noise.  

So, mothers, take heart, maybe your anti-sleeping baby isn't an asshole, maybe they're just an insomniac in the making!  I recommend a little bit of melatonin crumbled up into their pre-bedtime meal.  Nothing about that could possibly go wrong.

The Next Step

Fair warning: This post and future posts will be following my adventures in babymaking--not from an R rated perspective, but from the advanced biology aspect.  If you aren't comfortable with or interested in this topic, I totally understand and you should turn back now.  Be aware that I might be using scary words like uterus and sperm--so consider yourself warned! I know that this won't be interesting to everyone--it wouldn't have been interesting to me a year ago--but I hope that by sharing my experiences here I will not only be documenting my experience for my own benefit, but that maybe I can help someone else who might be going through this as well.

This weekend was filled with so much amazingness.  Colby came home early from a trip, so we were able to spend the whole weekend together before he left me for another week, the weather was stunningly beautiful and I took advantage of it by going to the farmer's market, the beach, and otherwise spending most of the weekend outside.  

Then, Sunday night, I went to the bathroom and all of the happiness came crashing down around me when I saw that the dreaded spotting had begun.  For the first time in this entire journey, I completely broke down.  I've had teary moments, I've vented here on the blog, I've had days of intense sadness and disappointment, but that night I ugly cried into Colby's shirt for almost an hour, wailing by turns about how unfair it was and how discouraged I feel.  He was amazing, saying all the right things, wiping my face, mostly just holding on and letting me cry until I ran out of sobs.

The one glimmer of optimism that still shines in the darkest recesses of my mind, is that we are beginning testing this cycle.  The common thinking is that it can take a healthy couple up to a year to get pregnant, so many doctors won't begin testing until cycle/month twelve.  However, when I went to the gynecologist for my annual exam last month, I explained my concerns (specifically my short cycles/short luteal phase) and that we've had perfect timing for 10 out of those 11 cycles (something of a miracle with Colby's trip schedule) and we still arent any closer to having our baby.

Fortunately for me, I got one of those great doctors who actually listens to your concerns, and makes decisions on a case by case basis rather than always going "by the book" regardless of the situation.  Her take on it was that there was no reason to wait another two cycles to begin testing given our past history, and the fact that I am very knowledgeable about my cycles and we've been hitting ovulation on the nose since November.

This month, I'll be having blood work done on cycle day (CD) 3 (tomorrow) and CD 22.  I'm also waiting on a referral from Tricare to have an HSG done.  From what I've gathered through extensive internet research (I googled it and read the first result), CD 3 blood work checks your Follicle Stimulating Hormone (the hormone responsible for egg maturation), Estradiol (high levels can indicate an ovarian cyst or low egg reserve), and Luteinizing Hormone (levels can indicate PCOS).  You want your FSH low, Estradiol low, and an LH:FSH ration of less than 2:1 or 3:1. The CD 22 blood work seems to mainly check progesterone levels and confirms ovulation.  After charting for eight cycles, I'm reasonably certain I ovulate, but I'm very curious to learn what my progesterone levels are.

The HSG, or hysterosalpingogram, is a little bit more scary as from what I understand it's more painful/uncomfortable than just having a needle jabbed in my arm.  In this procedure, dye will be injected into my uterus and fallopian tubes and the surrounding areas to make sure that nothing is blocked and all of the baby making ingredients are able to get where they need to go.  And of course, Colby gets to endure the most awkward testing experience, I'm sure I don't need to go into much detail on that procedure, but it will give us information about his sperm quantity, motility and morphology.

So, that's where we are now.  I don't know how long it will take to get the results back from each of these tests, but hopefully soon we'll have an explanation for why things aren't working out for us in the baby arena, and a plan for going forward.  As for now, I'm just trying to find the bright side of things like the fact that I've got at least another month of wine-drinking in my future.  Would I rather have a baby than a buzz?  of course.  But the the buzz sure doesn't hurt.

Quality Over Quantity

It's not much of a secret that Colby and I don't get to spend a whole heck of a lot of time together.  With his job, he averages about 6 months out of the year away from home, and last year was one of the worst with him being gone over 200 days of the year.  The worst part is that frequently, his trips are unexpected and it's difficult to plan anything--even a backyard barbecue--without specifically taking vacation time to guarantee that he won't be somewhere on the other side of the world.

We've accepted that this is just the way things are going to be for at least the next year and a half, and it's pretty unlikely that things will improve dramatically at our next base, but this past month and a half has been particularly frustrating as he had to live on base for one week, then was in Africa for two weeks, then I went to Disney World for a week, and then he left just days later for a two week trip to Asia.  Since he got back home on Monday, he's had time off and we've been trying to make the most of it while he's home.

Every now and then I start thinking about looking for a job, just to have something to do on a regular basis and funnel more money into my Shoes & Travelling account, but then there are the times like these where I'm lucky enough to be able to spend time with Colby during his strange "weekends".  I think part of my misery in Washington was not only due to the weather, but the fact that between my work schedule and Colby's work schedule, I felt that I never really got to see my husband except for the few hours I could keep my eyes open between dinner and bedtime and the rare weekends we had together.  I love having the flexibility to spend time together whenever the Air Force decides that we can have it.

So far this week we've spent time at the dog park, indulged in delicious meals out at favorite restaurants, headed out to Folly Beach for a perfect day with sun, sand and waves, and this evening we're hoping to take in a Piccolo Spoleto show before the festival passes us by.  It's been a lovely week together, and as of right now, it looks like I'll have him around until the beginning of July when he'll once more be jetting off for a week-long school and then heading to New Mexico to visit a friend for a guys' week.  After that, we'll have just a few more months before he leaves for his next long deployment.

But the best thing I can do is not focus on how little time we have together, but instead think of all the fun things that can be squeezed into a South Carolina summer--the Biltmore is beckoning, we've got a variety of beautiful beaches to choose from, and things are looking up for another trip to Europe in August.  We may not spend a lot of time under the same roof, but what time we do have together we make count as best we can.

One of the Good Ones

It is so easy to take our loved ones for granted.  In particular, the ones that live side by side with us every day.  Husbands.  Mothers.  Fathers.  Children.  They're always there--dropping dirty clothes on the floor by the hamper.  Leaving dirty dishes in the sink.  You see them with bed head, unbrushed teeth, pajama pants suitable for a flood.  You lose your temper over silly things, pick fights when you're feeling emotional, turn a cold shoulder in the face of an apology.  They see you when you're sick, vulnerable, imperfect.

And then the dirty laundry is washed, folded and put away, and the floors around the hamper are bare.  The dirty dishes piled up in the sink are all your own.  You brush your hair, put on a pretty dress, and go out, then come home to pajamas and an empty house.  You lose your temper, and there's no one there but yourself.  No one else to listen, to bear the brunt of your emotions when it's impossible to keep them inside.

Those are the times you realize how lucky you are.  How rare it is to find a person who will love you despite the dirty laundry.  Despite the stupid arguments, the neediness when you're sick, the flannel pajamas, the rumpled hair.  Or maybe because of the arguments, the neediness, the pajamas, and the hair.  That being there through all of those moments is so much more important than being there when the clothes are perfect, the evening fun or romantic, the conversation scintillating.  How important it is to have someone who knows when you need to be left alone, and when you need to be held.Or knows when you just need to hear, I hope you're feeling better.  I'll be home to take care of you tomorrow.  I love you.

Hello! Goodbye!!

Ugh, what kind of lame blogger writes a super depressing, whiny post and then disappears for a week?

One whose mother and aunt are coming to town to visit for a week!

For the past four days, I've been in full on OH MY GOD HOUSEGUESTS freak out mode.  I cleaned the baseboards, donated a garage-full of various thingamabobs to the Kidney Foundation, painted two rooms, washed the pollen off of the porch and outside furniture, replaced most of our ratty old aluminum blinds with wood blinds, got the dogs groomed, and did about 18 tons of laundry.  I still have a mountain of cleaning ahead of me, as well as putting together the guest room and bathroom after tearing them apart for painting purposes.  I say "I", but my dashing husband also helped out a good deal this weekend, as well as pulling off a pretty fantastic Air Expo for the Charleston public.

Tomorrow, the royalty touches down in Charleston, my house will once again revert to a disaster area, and we will have so much fun over the next seven days.

I just need that one day for my mom to look around my house, and see what a grown up I am.  One with cleaning schedules and a fairly steady hand with the paint roller.  I don't guess I'll ever grow out of that "Look!  Look!  See what I can do!" phase.

Anyway, all of this to say that I have not pitched my sad, barren womb off of the Ravenel Bridge, but probably won't be around to blog-world too much over the next week.  I am optimistic that maybe if I eat enough, my food baby may actually evolve into a real baby.  There's nothing to do but try, right?

Adieu!  Adieu!  To you and you and you!

The Wait

From the very beginning, nothing in my relationship with Colby has gone according to any sort of "schedule" that I've tried to impose.  From the first few tentative months of dating but not dating, to the next difficult on and off years of maintaining a serious relationship long distance, I've always had to accept that my time line is simply out the window.  There were many times I thought it would never work out.  That things were ending or were over for good.  That as much as I saw a future with him, maybe it just wasn't meant to be.  But I should have had more faith, because here we are, almost nine years later, and things between us couldn't be better.

You'd think I would have learned something from that experience.

Deciding that we would have a baby was a no brainer.  We've both always known that we wanted to be parents someday.  When I was a little girl, I didn't dream of a high powered career, I dreamed of raising children.  So, it was never an "if" it was a "when".  And when we both confessed that we had suddenly found ourselves ready for that step so much earlier than we'd initially planned, it seemed meant to be.  Finally, something in our relationship that we were both ready for at the same time.  That held no drama or heartache as one or the other of us dreamed of a baby while the other held out for years longer.

And yet, here we are, 6 months later, and still we wait.  We wait and wait, and the waiting never gets any easier.

Today, we move into our seventh cycle of trying for a baby.  And I am having a really hard time maintaining any semblance of positivity.  I have learned how to pay very close attention to what my body is doing.  I spend the day, constantly staring at my chart, wondering where we are going wrong.  Our timing is perfect.  I eat and drink and take supplements all to enhance our chances of conceiving.  I exercise regularly.  We're young, healthy, vital people.  My cycles are on the short side, but regular, with a clear sign of ovulation.  We are doing everything in our power to make this baby happen, and nothing ever changes.

I can't help but ask, "Why?  Don't I deserve a baby just as much as anyone else?"

But what I am coming to realize is that babies aren't something that are "deserved".  Babies come to women who are not emotionally or physically ready for them.  They come to women who do not want them.  They come to teenagers or drug abusers or alcoholics.  Babies are not gifts for a life well lived.  The ability to create life is not a reward for making the right decisions and being a "good" person.  They are simply a scientific phenomenon in which sperm meets egg and life begins.  And that science pays no attention to a universal, purely human sense of what is right and just.

And yet, I still sit alone, wondering why it is that so many other women are given the responsibility of parenthood when it is not something that they asked for or even wanted, and why it is that two people who so desperately want and are prepared for that responsibility can't have it.  There is nothing fair about it.

There is nothing fair about life.  I know that full well.  What I do know is that I am lucky.  I am lucky that I have my health, and that I have loving and supportive family and friends.  I am lucky that I have a roof over my head, food to eat, leisure time, adorable dogs, a full life.

If only there were some guarantee, some assurance that some day, I will be able to conceive.  If that were the case, I could wait.  I could be patient.  It is the not knowing that wears me down day after day.  The elation when a month seems particularly promising followed by a despair that really can't be put into words when that promise turns into defeat.  The dreams of nursery decor, birthing plans, and tiny socks--all wiped away for yet another month.

I try to be strong, knowing how much worse it could be.  Knowing that there are others who have struggled with this for so much longer than I have and have so much more pain in their lives.  I remind myself, there is still time.  It could happen for you this month, or next.  Be happy for another month to drink wine and sleep in late.  Don't give up hope and don't blame yourself.

There is time.  There is so much time.  But the waiting.  Well, it's the hardest part.

Birthday Boy

It has been eight years since the first time I ever celebrated Colby's birthday with him.  (We'll gloss over those more pathetic early years where I celebrated it without him, yes?)  We'd been "officially" dating for about a month and a half at that point, though we'd been dating in all but name for four months prior to that, but things were finally starting to seem a bit more serious, and I was all aflutter.

His parents were coming into town to take him out for a birthday dinner, and he asked me to join them.  First, I was overwhelmed by the fact that he was turning 23.  TWENTY-THREE!!  Oh my goodness, SO OLD, right?!?  What does one even talk to a 23-year-old about?  They're so worldly and mature.  Second, um wait, meeting the parents??  At a fancy dinner?  Please God, remember not to crunch your ice, Angela!

That birthday went well, and over the next few years we spent some birthdays together and some apart.  And today he turns the big 3-1.  Last night, I told him now he's not just 30, he's fully "in his 30s".  He looked at me askance and said that he's been in his 30s for a year now.  But somehow, 31 just seems so much more official.  Like, 30 is your training wheels after bidding adieu to your 20s, and then 31 is when the real 30s start.

He sort of proved my point when I asked him what he wanted for his birthday and he said he didn't really want anything.  What?!?  Who says that???  Old people, that's who.

Anyway, I've got a couple of tricks up my sleeves for his big day, and he's just going to have to deal with the fact that I don't believe in skipping birthday presents.  Ugh, what a hideous precedent to set!

So, happy birthday to my most favorite guy.  The one who puts up with all of the crazy that I bring into his life on a regular basis, and somehow still seems to like me an awful lot.  I love you so much, and am so glad that we're together to celebrate.  I hope thirty-one is better than all the years that came before, and that every year continues to get better and better.

Three Years

It's hard to believe that it's been three years since I put on the most expensive dress I will ever own, climbed into a black limousine with some of my very favorite people in the world and took a ten minute ride to an event that would change my life forever.
It's hard to believe that Colby has been a part of my life either as a friend, a boyfriend, or a husband for ten years.  That we've been together for eight of those years.
But we've crammed an awful lot of adventures into those years.  And considering the amount of time we've spent apart, we've managed to collect a vast amount of memories.  We've settled into a marriage that is both comfortable and exciting, and I look forward to the adventures that still wait for us down the road.
I'm so curious about where life will take us, what new experiences lie just around the corner.  I'm so lucky that I have such an amazing man to share those experiences with--someone to celebrate with when times are good, and someone who will let me cry on his shoulder when things get hard.  Someone who is intelligent, funny, sensitive, thoughtful, caring, hard working, passionate, not to mention damn good looking!  Here's to another incredible year together, and what I'm sure will be many more to come in the future.  Happy anniversary, Colby!

Thankful Thursday Through Thursday Through Monday

I really did have every intention of keeping up with my blogging and documenting all that I have to be thankful for this month, but then I didn't.  To think that I actually considered participating in NaBloPoMo this month, HA!  Right.  So, what exactly have I been thankful for?

Well...
Colby made it home safe and sound!  And he brought with him the gifts of jewelry, chocolate, and 8,000 pounds of laundry.  We've spent the last two weeks attached at the hip pretty much 24/7, and now that he's returned to work the house feels awfully empty.  I am, however, incredibly thankful that at least for the next month or so, there will be no trips to far off, sandy locales and he'll be coming home to me and the puppies each night.
His parents and I had been conspiring for the past couple of months to spring a surprise visit on Colby upon his return, and if Colby's look of shock and confusion upon seeing his mom and dad waiting for us at a local restaurant was any indication, we definitely pulled it off.  I'm thankful that our families are close enough to pull off a surprise like this and that we had a beautiful weekend to spend together eating, touring and enjoying each other's company.

Colby coming home was the last big milestone I was counting down to before our big trip, and now an international flight and 12 days floating on a giant boat shaped hotel is just a little over a week away.  We've spent the last two weeks having fun date nights (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 = AMAZING, The Social Network = Wow Justin Timberlake Can Actually Act), squeezing in some sight seeing, spending time with friends as couples, and yesterday I took Colby on a shopping spree that would have made Stacy and Clinton weep tears of joy and pride in preparation for the cruise.

So, now that the vacation is becoming a reality, I'm becoming a bit overwhelmed.  Our itinerary is definitely good enough, but I still feel like it could be better.  I really have no idea what I'm going to wear at any time that doesn't include the phrases "formal" or "semi-formal".  I need to bring some clothes to be altered.  And honestly, I feel like I'm forgetting a whole lot of other must-dos, but can't think of what they could be which means they probably don't exist.  But they're still bugging me.

Oh whatever, can we just go see Harry Potter again?

Thankful Thursday

I'll be the first to admit that I was not entirely gracious and understanding when I initially got the news about Colby's return home being pushed back.  And it definitely bums me out when I think about the fact that because of a silly mistake, he isn't sitting next to me on the couch right now.  I spent Sunday and Monday in a pretty grumpy mood, wallowing in my anger and frustration, and thinking very unkind, very unladylike thoughts.

Then, it struck me.  I am the only one who can choose my attitude.  I can choose to sit back and let my annoyance overtake me, complain about my problems, have a miserable week, and rely on someone else to bring me happiness.  Or I can dust myself off, acknowledge my sadness, and also acknowledge how much GOOD there is in my life every single day, enjoying each day for what it brings me rather than being angry because of what it does not.

I think sometimes I spend so much time dwelling on the things that go wrong in life, that it's hard to see the good that is there all along.  And when I take a look around me, well, it's a little overwhelming just how much goodness I see.  In honor of Thanksgiving, every Thursday this month, I'm going to take a little time to think about the things that I'm thankful for and give them a shout out here on the old bloggeroo.
Autumn in the South!  For as long as I can remember, Fall below the Mason Dixon line has been my absolute favorite season.  It's cool enough to warrant boots and sweaters, but not so cold that you're bundling up like Eskimos and shivering uncontrollably.
Friends near and far.  I don't think it's possible to survive as a military wife without your own personal army of friends to keep you sane!  I know for sure I'd never have made it through this deployment without the amazing women I've connected with here in Charleston, or my friends scattered across the country.
Okay, so I can't do a cartwheel, but I am incredibly grateful for my good health.  I think that is the thing I take for granted most often--just assuming that I will always be healthy and not appreciating each breath I take.  I know too many people, old and far too young, who have faced dire life-threatening illnesses or injuries, and I should never assume that I'm somehow exempt from the dangers of life.  Every day truly is a miracle.
This guy.  Yeah, I may not need him to make me happy, but I sure am lucky to have found him, and he sure does make the happiness come easily.  (That's what she said.)

What are the things that you're most grateful for today?

Across the Universe

For as long as I've known him, there has been distance between us.

First, it was the distance of friendship, when I wanted more.  Then, after those first tentative steps beyond friendship, the distance of emotion.  Suppressing feelings, proclaiming the casualness of each moment.  Laughing at jokes, still secretly wishing for more.

Later, the distance of geography.  Love can conquer all.  All you need is love.  That's what they say anyway.  But we were young, and to us, the distance seemed insurmountable.

Next came the return of the emotional distance.  Months going by without a word.  Then, once more, baby steps back into friendship.  Talking to each other about the most recent object of affection.  Not really wanting to hear about them, but that's what friends do.  They talk.  Wondering to myself why every date fell so flat.  Looking forward to that instant message or email that I knew would be waiting for me when I got back home.

The slow realization that the distance didn't seem like such an overwhelming obstacle.  Realizing that it isn't the physical distance that keeps people apart, it's the emotional connection that keeps them together.  Feeling closer to a person thousands of miles away than you do to the person who just dropped you off at home, leaving you with a stale kiss and a feeling of emptiness.  Knowing exactly what joke he'll make, and silently saying the punchline with him in your head.  The thrill of being surprised by a sudden insightful comment he makes when you think a conversation has reached its end.

There are times when the distance between us seems, once again, too overwhelming.  When one extra day tacked onto a trip away from home feels like an extra year in Purgatory.  But then, I still look forward to that instant message or email when I come home.  Knowing exactly what joke he'll make, then being surprised by his ideas.  That balancing act of security and excitement.  Physical distance and emotional connection.

The worst moments are not when I count the miles between us.  They aren't when he leaves for a trip or can't get to a phone to call home.  It's the moments when I close my eyes and have trouble forming more than a hazy picture of his face.  When I've thought of something I want to tell him and have forgotten it by the time we talk.

Eight years ago, I couldn't understand what I know now.  Love isn't the amount of time you spend with a person.  It isn't counting down the moments until you see his face.  Love is feeling connected despite the distance.  Closing your eyes and knowing that even if you can't picture him in your mind, you feel him in your heart.

Knowing that at the most inappropriate time, when it doesn't even fit the context of the conversation, he will say "That's what she said."  And you'll say it with him.  And you'll laugh.  And you know that soon he'll be home, and for a least a moment in time, there will be nothing to conquer.

The Donut of Misery

Congratulations!  You're over the hump!

I haven't been posting much about Colby's deployment because... well... it's just easier to not think about it.  Between my trip to Japan, my mom's visit, never-ending classes, and spending time with pals in the local area, the first half of the deployment has gone by pretty quickly.

Yes, that's right, we are officially well into the second half of the deployment!  And really, I thought I was handling it with aplomb.

But part of me wonders if the deployment isn't what's taking a toll on my energy levels.  If there's a subconscious stress there that I didn't even realize I was feeling with Colby gone.  If that is the case, it does make sense that the exhaustion would have peaked over the past couple of weeks as we're in that dreaded mid-deployment hump.  Those few weeks in which half the deployment is behind you, but the second half still stretches out before you in an endless parade of lonely days.

It bugs me when people complain constantly about deployments.  We knew what we were signing up for when we attached ourselves to these military men, and unless anyone was told a bald-faced lie, we knew there would be plenty of nights alone.  There's also a tendency for military spouses to pull out their rulers and start measuring and comparing--there's always someone who has it so much worse and wants everyone to know.  And you can't help but feel envious of those who have shorter deployments to get through.  Honestly, it's just a minefield of a conversation, and I try to avoid it as much as possible.

But I think every now and then you just have to get it out, and I'm taking that opportunity now:  This deployment suuuuucks.  I'm so tired of Google chat and Skype crapping out on us and having to fill out customs forms and having questions that can't be immediately answered and cooking dinners for one and making plans for one.  So there.

The good news is that the deployment IS more than halfway done, and the next month or so is incredibly busy.

Next week is packed with fun activities with friends, the following week my San Francisco bestie is coming for a visit, then I'm visiting my sister in NYC for a few days and heading to Vermont for a wedding.  I'll have one day in Charleston to recharge before driving to Louisiana for a week and then my sister is driving back home with me to spend some time in the Holy City.

By the time she leaves, just a few measly weeks will stand between me and Colby's return.  So, the exhausted part of me is pretty overwhelmed by all of this upcoming activity, but the lonely part of me is looking forward to the craziness and the fact that when it's over, it really will be almost over.

And then my vote is for two weeks of re-constitutional leave spent sitting on the sofa, watching tv, eating Dominoes Pizza. It will be so nice to be boring WITH someone else again.

Sail Away, Sail Away, Sail Away

Well, I'm leaving for Japan in one week (I'm actually leaving on Friday, but since I have to be in the car on the way to the airport at about 3:30 am, I'm just not counting that day), and as if I don't have enough to take care of in the next week, yesterday we woke up to a $900+ charge on our credit card for our automatically paid water bill.

Yes, you read that right.  NINE-EFFING-HUNDRED DOLLARS.  For WATER.

Colby immediately went to work trying to figure out what is wrong, calling the water company, making calculations, and generally stomping around the house with a look of stormy consternation upon his face.  I just tried to stay out of the way and resist the urge to go to the bathroom.  We're currently working under the assumption that the meter is broken.  According to our toilet, it uses 1.6 gallons when it flushes and according the meter, it is using approximately 16.  You'll notice  a very importance difference in decimal places in those two numbers.

Granted, we've been using a lot of water lately as we've put in new grass seed and a new garden and we've been trying to keep them thriving in our recent near drought conditions.  But we have definitely not used $900 worth of water.  So.  That's been fun!  I'm thinking of just building an ark and floating away from all of our cares and worries on all of this water we're supposedly using.

I'm also stressing a bit because my next (and last) class begins on the 24th, the day before I leave for Japan, and I know I'm not going to have time to finish all of my work for the first week before my flight and I'm not going to have any homework time during my trip.  Last summer, there was a week long break in the summer, and I thought it fell between these two classes, so that's why I thought the trip would work out perfectly time-wise.  But apparently, Grand Canyon has gotten rid of their summer breaks.  Argh!  So, I'm going to email my professor as soon as possible and request an extension on my first week's assignments.

I'm still searching for the perfect day bag for Japan.  I got the Sherpani Flora Minor in the mail the other day, and while it's an awesome day bag, I'm concerned about also using it as my sole carry-on.  My goal is to carry only one day bag and a 24" expandable suitcase to make train-hopping easier, and I'm bringing this small hideaway tote in case I absolutely cannot cram anymore souvenirs into my bags.  I ordered a different day bag that is a little larger than the Sherpani to do a test run--now I just hope it gets here in time!  I really want the Sherpani to work because it is so much cuter, but I feel like the Rick Steves is going to be a better size.

(L) Rick Steves Avanti Flight Bag, (R) Sherpani Flora Minor

On top of that, I have homework to finish for the last week of my math class, I haven't even started packing or organizing for Japan, and we have two pages of house projects to finish before Colby leaves.  But on the positive side of things, our bedroom, master bath and upstairs hall is finally painted after three days of workmen tromping through our house and it looks AMAZING!  And we're leaving behind all of our cares and worries on Saturday for a romantic weekend in downtown Charleston.  We can only do what we can do, and everything else has a way of working itself out.  This weekend I just want to focus on enjoying the time I have left with my husband and eating dessert.  Priorities, people.  Priorities!!

Countdowns!

As depressed as I am about the fact that when I leave for Japan I'll be saying goodbye to Colby for over four months, I'm trying to look on the bright side of these next few months.  I've made a lot of fun plans in an attempt to  keep myself entertained, and if nothing else, at least there will be less laundry to do!  Here are just a few of the things keeping my spirits up as our days together are dwindling.

1 day until... We get our master bedroom and bathroom painted!  I can't wait, it's going to be so beautiful.  I may never leave my bedroom again!

8 days until... We spend the day in Charleston, have dinner at a fancy restaurant, and stay the night in a charming, historic inn.  I'm looking forward to walking our city after dark and getting to feel like I really live there.

14 days until... I leave for 10 days in Tokyo, Kyoto and Nara.  We've firmed up our itinerary, all of our prior bookings have been made, and we're totally ready to be completely Lost in Translation!

~6 weeks until... A long weekend with my long lost besties in Washington.  This one is a little harder to nail down exactly as I'm contemplating taking a Space A flight with the Air Force.  For the first time.  By myself.  Eep!

10 weeks until... I am FINALLY at LAST after more than two years of work DONE WITH SCHOOL!!!  For real this time.  After this, if I so much as hint at the fact that I want to further my education, please slap me.  But please remember to refer to me as "Master" while doing so.

3 months until... My theatrical sister and San Francisco-based frister (friend AND sister!) are planning a simultaneous trip to Charleston where we'll be uniting the West coast, Northeast, and the deep South.  I really, really hope it all works out according to plan!

3 months & 3 weeks until... I head to a quaint Vermont town for my dear friend's wedding.  She has had a trial of a year, and I can't wait for her to have a magical wedding weekend and to be there to watch it all unfold.  Plus, Vermont!  Maple syrup!  Or something...

4 months until... I head home for a week or so to spend time with family and attend my mother's annual Pretty in Pink party, benefiting breast cancer research.  I may be off on my calculations, but I believe that this year we will be celebrating 5 years since her victory over cancer, and I can't wait to be there and support her cause in person!

5 months until... Colby is back home and this whole deployment nonsense is behind us for another couple of years!!

Happenings

* I think at some point over Spring Break, the aliens came and replaced my kids with slightly upgraded versions.  I don't know if it was that we all just needed a nice break from each other or if all that I have been trying to teach them finally clicked in their little brains, but work this week has been--dare I say it?--PLEASANT!

* As I got off of the plane all by myself in Seattle on Sunday, I was thinking to myself, rather morosely, how sad it was that I wasn't getting off of the plane in Rome with Colby like I was on the same day last year.  Then as soon as I got home, I heard about the tragic earthquake in Italy, and now reports are coming in that deaths have risen above two hundred.  I'm absolutely heartbroken for the residents of L'Aquila, and hope that they are able to pick up the pieces and recover from this disaster.

* I can't believe it, but somehow, I have managed to make it 42 days without Facebook or Twitter, and have only 3 more days to go until I can get back involved with internet society!  It was kind of hilarious how every time I would meet up with a friend while I was back in Louisiana, the conversation would inevitably turn to my absence from Facebook within five minutes.  I thought maybe this 46 day fast would help break my addiction, unfortunately that doesn't seem to be case as all I can think about is the joyous feeling I will get when I am logging on again for the first time.  You know, so I can see who wrote on my wall.  And added pictures.  And got divorced or married over the past month and a half.  And then log off only to log on again 10 minutes later.  God.  Facebook is worse than nicotine and I have a carton a day habit.

* In happier--or at least somewhat less superficial--news, Colby is scheduled to come home in less than two weeks!  He's been gone since mid-March, so it hasn't been a terribly long time as compared to some of our separations, but I'm looking forward to having him back nonetheless.  Particularly because I'll have someone else with whom to share the dog poo load.  And that right there is what marriage is all about.  That and having someone else there to get your juice when you just don't want to get up off of the couch.

* I'm going to see Britney Spears tomorrow at the Tacoma Dome!  The show doesn't start until 8:00 with the Pussycat Dolls opening (Yes, I love them too.  Shut your Judgey Judgerson face and loosen up my buttons, babe.) and then Britney probably coming on some time around 10.  I am crazy super excited about the show, and waaaaaay less excited about waking up at 5 o'clock the next morning.  But I'm bringing one of my most fun friends and I feel preeeeetty sure it's all gonna be worth it.  It's Britney, Bitch!

* Sigh.  It pains me to admit it, but I am firmly planted in the Team Adam Lambert camp after last night's American Idol performance.  These kids are all just rank amateurs and then Adam comes on stage and blows them out of the water on a weekly basis.  I was skeptical of him during auditions, reached my pinnacle of Adam-hate on country night with that nightmare inducing version of Ring of Fire, and last night's Mad World literally brought tears to my eyes.  I still think he's better suited to a Broadway stage than the pop world, but DAMN, that boy can sing.

* Yesterday, I ran for 20 minutes straight, then after a 2 minute walking break I made it another 10 minutes of running without dying in the middle of the street.  I only started running regularly again last Sunday and then took an extended break (Thursday through Monday), so I am super pumped with the progress I've already made.  It's never been this easy for me to get back into the swing of running after many months away from it, and I'm riding the endorphin wave so high that I am actually considering training for a half marathon this summer. (Insert laugh track here.)

T.G.I.F.

Believe it or not, I have yet another story of anxiety and uncertainty to share with you all.  But today is not the day for dipping into the endless depths of my neuroses, today is the day for rejoicing in the sunshine and that fact that today is FRIDAY!

A confession that is either funny or embarrassing, probably a combination of the two:

Have I ever told you about that time when, early in my relationship with Colby, I was musing at length on how his R.A. could have possibly gotten her car from Alaska to her on campus apartment in Louisiana.  I eventually settled on the fact that she had probably taken a ferry, and was satisfied with my conclusion, when Colby kindly took my hand and explained to me that Alaska was not in fact an island unto itself as seemed to be the impression that I had formed over countless years of geography classes, and just maybe she had driven her car down to Louisiana from Alaska.

Well, last night we were watching an episode of Rick Steves where he was exploring the beautiful country of Greece.  As the television zoomed us in on a map of Europe, to highlight Greece, I made a dive for the remote and hit rewind and play again for another look at the unzoomed in map.  As it turns out, Greece is not, in fact an island, as I have thought for as long as I can remember.  I don't know where I got all of these misconceptions about how countries are connected or not connected to their neighboring countries, but I feel confident that it is somehow my 5th grade teacher's fault.  This is in sharp contrast to Colby, who actually spends his free time looking up random locations on Google Earth.

Things that are kind of adorable:

One of my little angel-faced 1st graders, who is obsessed with High School Musical, Indiana Jones, and efforts to combine those two interests, has taken to calling himself Hoops Man, and everytime I call him by his real name, he gives me a reproving glance and an enormous sigh.  I can't decide if his reaction to my faux pas is more precious than the nickname and his near idol worship of Zac Ephron, so I just sort of alternate between calling him Hoops Man and his real name.

Things that I am excited about:

1) The sun is shining, and it is downright WARM for Washington in March, at a pleasant 50 degrees.

2) The kids are generally easier to handle on a Friday afternoon, and oftentimes, downright enjoyable and entertaining.

3) I get to get dressed up for two separate events this weekend--a casino night birthday party for one of my friends tonight, and Colby's birthday dinner tomorrow night at the schmancy, well reviewed Seattle restaurant, Chez Shea.

4) I am leaving for Baton Rouge in exactly two weeks and one day, and I just found out that there is a very high degree of possibility that not only will I be seeing my family and friends while there, but my little sister will be making the seven hour drive down from her school in Missouri for the weekend!!  I haven't seen her since my wedding in November of 2007, and seeing as she is one of my top favorite people in the whole world, I am absolutely ecstatic that I might be seeing her very soon!

I hope that you are all going to be enjoying a fantabulous weekend, and if you have any good news of your own that you would like to share, I'm sure it would go a long way toward sustaining my suspiciously out of character and out of season good mood!

Much Needed Perspective

I was still feeling like a grumpy puss throughout Friday, and despite the copious amounts of wine I drank on Friday night when we went out to dinner with friends, I was still in a dour mood when Saturday rolled around.  I was stewing about all of the injustices inflicted upon me by the world--you know, no trip abroad, a husband who clearly doesn't give a hoot about me, the cold, dreary weather.  We decided to head up to Seattle to see Lucy at the Pacific Science Center, before she left Seattle for the next leg of her American tour, and then go out to dinner with friends.

On the way to the city, I pulled out a piece of gum, casually tossed the wrapper into the console of Colby's car, and became infuriated when he snapped at me to please not just throw my garbage in his car.  I mean, sure, I was the one who threw the garbage, but who was HE to talk to ME that way?  Never mind the fact that I had probably rolled my eyes at least four times at him throughout the course of the day and made a few not so nicely phrased comments myself.  We finished the rest of the long, construction extended drive in silence, each glowering out our respective portions of windshield.

We got the the science center, and slowly began to thaw as first we were forced to talk to each other to figure out how to get to the museum from our parking garage and eventually ended up engaged in a friendly game of mancala.  The rest of our stay was relaxed, and we finally got our chance to enter the small, dark room that housed the bones of Lucy and an artists rendition of what she may have looked like.

I stood over the glass case, staring down at the brittle, ivory colored remains of a creature that lived millions of years ago.  A mammal somewhere between an animal and a human, a 3 foot 6 inch skeleton of a female who was on the cusp of an entirely new species.  A creature who had lived her life, died under unknown circumstances, and was now on display for her ancestors 3.2 million years down the road.  Something about that moment gave me a catch in the back of my throat.

Our lives are truly so insignificant.  In the grand scheme of things, who are we really but self-important beings that lucked out by being at the top of the food chain, here for maybe 80 years if we're lucky and then gone.  In the blink of the eye as far as the earth is concerned.  It's easy to think that our small worries and sadnesses, celebrations and happy moments, grudges and angers can change the course of the universe, but in reality, life goes on every day, whether we're happy or sad, angry or joyful, and it is our choice in each moment of our lives to choose our attitude.  To choose our paths.

In 3.2 million years the world will never know or care if you were a millionaire or a pauper, if you had a happy life or a sad life, if you were alone or surrounded by people you love.  If we are anything to them we will be bones, fossils, relics of an ancient time, a mere stepping stone in the timeline of the past.

After spending time with Lucy, Colby and I went out for drinks while waiting for our friends to arrive in the city.  I downed a rasbperry lemon drop and then told Colby that lately I'd been feeling he hadn't really been registering many of my hopes and desires if they didn't affect him directly, or if he didn't feel that they deserved the same amount of importance I did.  I told him that I was still hurt that he had forgotten the talent show, that it came as a surprise to him every time I mentioned a trip this summer, or a vacation in France next year.  It all came rushing out, some of the things I had been feeling, I didn't even realize until that moment.  We sat together, quietly sharing a plate of garlic fries, both thinking about the things that I had said.

Yesterday, I woke up in an empty bed.  I came downstairs, bleary eyed and still a little tired, to find a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts waiting for me on the counter.  I took a glazed with chocolate frosting and sat down next to Colby on the couch.  "July 14-August 22," he said, as I took my first bite.  "I put my name in the leave books for the whole time since I wasn't sure when you'd want to go.  I can always give some of it back."  We started looking at airfare later that morning.

Life is what you make of it.  In 3.2 million years, not a single person will care that I spent two weeks in the Northeast in the summer of 2009, but while we spent those few minutes together remarking on the fact that the fares were cheaper than we expected, to me, it felt like the most important moment in the world.

Restless

You like how I patted myself on the back there for blogging more frequently, then promptly fell off the radar for the rest of the week?  Yeah, that was great.  I've been consciously making the decision not to blog, because honestly the only thing I want to write about right now is just how restless and apathetic about life I've been feeling lately.  And it seems of late, every time someone dares blog about something making them unhappy trolls have come out of the woodwork to lambast them for daring to not be happy about everything in their perfect lives, and quite frankly, I just feel too fragile for trolls right now.  But then I was all, "Angela, this is YOUR blog and if someone doesn't want to read your little epistle of unhappiness, they are free to navigate away to cutepuppies dot com."

So basically, I've just felt like a huge old lump of grump for the past couple of weeks.  I've been picking fights with Colby at home, I've been ridiculously sensitive and defensive about just about anything anyone says to me, and my tolerance for nonsense at school has been dangerously low.  Every morning I wake up and tell myself that today will be better, then I really make a concerted effort to be more positive until around midmorning when I reach the end of my rope.

I don't know precisely what my problem is.  One can really only blame so much on that much dreaded time of month, and the excuse wears a little thin when it is used every day of the month.  When I try to put my finger on exactly what is upsetting me, it just makes me feel utterly ridiculous.  Por ejemplo, Things That Are Currently Bumming me Out:

1) I am not going to Italy next month.  Or anywhere glamorous and European for that matter.  We're getting closer and closer to the one year point of when Colby and I left for our honeymoon last year, and I've been torturing myself by reading through my posts leading up to and after the trip.  I know, I'm a twit, some people never get to leave the country, and I'm bemoaning the fact that I have to go more than a year between trips abroad.  But still, every time I broach the topic of my dreams of a trip to France next summer, Colby all but laughs in my face.  In the interim, he's jetting off to Korea, Italy, and Germany, while I'm stuck in Washington, explaining once more to 9-year-olds exactly why it is not okay to use the term "cracker" in a derogatory manner.

2) I'm sick of winter, I'm a little over Washington, and I just want to know what our future holds so that we can stop stressing about the what ifs and start making a plan.  We've turned in our updated dream location list for Colby's next assignment, we have a pretty strong feeling that we'll end up at one of our top two choices--either Charleston or a base about an hour outside of San Francisco.  That's all well and good, but with the real estate market in its current state of gloom and doom, those two options provide us with two very different paths down which we'll travel depending on where we're assigned.  And of course there's always the threat of ending up in Alaska or middle of nowhere Oklahoma.  And please don't tell me that Alaska is actually quite beautiful.  I don't want beautiful.  I want warm.  And not Oklahoma.

3) I really do enjoy what I do.  For the most part, I think the kids I work with are pretty great, and we just had a talent show on Wednesday night, that oh my God, had me in stitches the kids were so damn cute.  But there are are 3-5 kids (depending on the day) that absolutely make me want to rip my hair out.  It is amazing to me how just a couple of disrespectful, physically and emotionally aggressive children can really ruin what should be a great day.  And every day it's a different thing.  A fight. Name calling.  Lying.  Sidebar lessons on what sex is while I'm talking about Dr. Seuss's birthday.  I know this is no different from what I'll experience as a teacher, but it really is exhausting and I feel that in a daycare setting, children are allowed to get away with more than they would in a more structured school setting.  I find parenting other people's kids exhausting, and it's frustrating that they all seem to operate under the delusion that their little angels couldn't possibly be the problem.

4) I've been feeling a little bit taken for granted by Colby lately.  Not in a huge way, just in the little things, I don't necessarily feel that what I do is important and that somehow I've become a little bit of the Lucy to his Ricky.  I know I probably bring this upon myself in the way that I make jokes out of things that I'm really serious about.  Like, I constantly make jokes about wanting a third dog.  I joke about wanting to plan that trip abroad next summer.  I don't come across as really serious about my desires and I often make jokes about my job, so it's to be expected that maybe he would do the same.  But the other night, after repeated reminders about the talent show at school, Colby completely and utterly forgot to show up.  I'd been talking about it for weeks, and it just wasn't on his radar at all, even though he'd participated in the conversations with me.  I was incredibly hurt and angry, and I think it was sort of a culmination of all those feelings I've been having for a while now.  I'm okay with making light of situations, but I don't want to be the foil in the relationship.  There is probably a whole blog for another day, exploring this further, but basically, these feelings had been seething for a while and that was just the final straw for me.

Anyway, the sun is shining today, I've got two hours of America's Next Top Model to watch before I go back to work, it's Friday and I think we're actually going to do something fun this weekend instead of sitting around the house doing homework.  I'm hopeful that next week will be better, and if not, maybe I'll just write about it as it comes instead of saving everything up for another ten page long missive on why I'm still not feeling like rainbows and starshine.

Hope

Just about everyone, myself included, likes to blog about the good things in life, particularly when they're in a happy, loving marriage or committed relationship.  I like to get all mushy, and sometimes banging out some sappy, heartfelt blog post is just a really fun way to spend a Friday morning.  But the thing of it is, sometimes being married can be kind of hard.  I know!!  Big shocker!

I'm not even talking about in the big ways that you always hear about in those stories about why the divorce rate is so high.  Like, obviously money issues can cause problems.  You want five kids, he was thinking more like one kid and some new golf clubs.  That stuff can certainly have an impact on a relationship, but I'm talking about the little things.

Like, you want to set the thermostat at 72 because you both make a decent wage and can probably afford to pay the gas bill, but he wants to keep it at 68 because he's kind of miserly and wears a lot of fleece.  So, you compromise and set it at 70, but no one is ever really happy about a compromise, so you both make disparaging comments about the other's temperature preference from time to time.  Or maybe you like the feel of crisply, tightly tucked sheets when you climb into bed at night, and he's more of a "tornado just hit the house, leaving the bed intact but rumpled" kind of a guy.  So you keep your side tucked in and he kicks the sheets out on his side, which SEEMS like it should work, but in reality, every morning the entire bed looks suspiciously more like the tornado situation, and it is POSSIBLE that one time you actually cried, because seriously, is having the sheets tucked in really THAT HORRIBLE??

And then of course, maybe I--I mean, YOU--want to get a third dog, so you kind of joke about it all the time, but in a way that makes it pretty clear that you're not actually joking, and then he's like "the yard is too small, and you aren't the one that picks up the poop, anyway."  Then, completely by accident you stumble across an adoption listing featuring this adorable, Fraggle-like face:

So, you kind of once more jokingly bring up that whole crazy third dog idea, and you're once more kind of jokingly shot down.  And then you get seriously sad, and you think guiltily to yourself that if you weren't married and didn't have to make joint decisions, you'd just get the damn dog.  And then you realize that you're a horrible person, and obviously being married and having someone else to pick up the poop of the two dogs you're already lucky enough to have and to share your life with is about a million percent better than getting a third dog.  But you still obsess about the dang Fraggle dog and pray that someone else out there will adopt her and give her the love she deserves, and then you just hope that the dreams about Hope go away some time soon.

Because really, what kind of moron has multiple dreams about a dog she's never met anyway?  Not me, that's for sure...

Confessions Pt 2

Welcome to another round of brutally honest, potentially inappropriate thoughts that been circulating in my head recently.  No topic is safe from the wanderings of my little feather brain.

* Our Christmas tree is still up.  Oh yes, it is.  And I have no plans to take it down any time soon.  Not because I am feeling particularly festive, but because I am lazy.  And we have a lot of ornaments on that damn tree.

* I am horrified at the state of parenting and children's behavior in general these days.  I know that makes me a bitter sixty-five-year-old man, but I don't care.  My generation was far from perfect, and I was a bit sheltered as a child, but I honestly don't think that as a whole we were nearly as dreadful as children AS A WHOLE these days.

* I find Ryan Seacrest mysteriously hot this season.  He seems somehow more mature and dignified.  We'll see how long that lasts before the frosted tips and shiny shirts make their come back.

* On a somewhat related note, I haven't been as excited about an American Idol contestant as I am about Alexis Grace in a very long time.  Maybe ever.  This is interesting since I wasn't even planning to watch American Idol this season.  If she makes it to the finals, there is a 57% chance that I might make an actual effort and text in a vote.

* I can't remember the last time I thoroughly cleaned our bathroom.  There is a layer of hairspray and makeup about an inch thick on the counters, and my sink looks like a Jackson Pollack painting.

* Even though know that I drastically cut the number of blogs I read a few months ago and am no longer a terribly consistent commenter, sometimes I get a little sad that I don't get the same number of comments I used to get.  Then I remember that there are far greater problems in the world (see: state of bathroom above), and I get over it.  Until I get a little sad again.

* This has absolutely zero bearing on the amount of my love for Colby, but I would really love to get some fabulous sparkly jewelry from him on romantic holidays.

* I am seriously, hopelessly addicted to Facebook and at a slightly lesser level, Twitter.  As such, I am giving up both for Lent.  Jesus is probably rolling his eyes, like, "I fasted in the desert for 40 days and this twit is worried about her ability to stay away from social networking sites for 46?" but in a nicer way, of course, because he is Jesus.  I have had multiple friends contact me, worried that they will never hear from me again, but have no fear, I will still be blogging and emailing.  But still probably not ever answering my phone.

The Green Eyed Monster

I'm sure by now, pretty much everyone who has turned on the television, listened to the radio, surfed the internet, or read a newspaper has heard about the pre-Grammy's activities in which singers Chris Brown and Rihanna were involved.  For those not in the know, the two have been dating for quite some time, and on the eve of the Grammy's, the two apparently got into some sort of altercation that ended with Brown allegedly beating Rihanna pretty seriously, but neither has released an official statement, so the details are all hazy at this point.

What has piqued my curiosity about this story, more that most celebrity gossip stories, is that the reason witnesses and friends have given for the violent outburst from Brown was that Rihanna was angry with him for flirting at the party they'd attended together and the fight snowballed from there, ending with her in the hospital and Brown turning himself in on domestic violence charges.  Jealousy.  Even celebrities aren't immune.  And jealousy and I have a long and complicated past with one another--one that I'm still working through to this day. 

When I was a freshman in college, I got involved in my first "serious" relationship--if you've been around the blog long enough, you may remember me mentioning Evil Ex and if you know me in real life, you couldn't possibly mistake to whom I am referring.  I trusted him completely, mostly because I was too dumb/naive to do otherwise.  He pushed the relationship along at warp speed, dropping the "L" bomb about a month into the relationship, and I was completely swept off my feet.  However, after a couple of months, things started changing.  If I had plans with friends he wanted to know who they were, where I was going, when I would be back.  Once he'd met all of my friends, he was contantly criticizing them, and he would always manage to find a way to convince me to blow them off and stay at home with him.

When we went out he would harp on my makeup or the clothes I was wearing, and if I so much as spoke to another guy, even if it was a mutual friend of ours, he'd become angry and moody.  At the time, I thought this was normal, that this is just how relationships were.  You started dating someone and they became your life.  I remember that I brought a male study partner who was an old high school friend to Ex's apartment once, as we were all but living together officially at the time, and when he came home and found us reviewing biology terms together, he was furious.  He was icily rude to my study partner and as soon as we were alone, he exploded, yelling and telling me that I had disrespected him and so on and so forth.  I will say, he never laid a hand on me, but he knew the exact words to use to cut me to the quick.  And of course, if you know me, you know that I'm not the meekest, mildest girl in the world, so I would give back as good as I got.

After about a year together I had virtually no friends left, all of my days and nights were spent either at school or with Ex, and my self-image was completely destroyed.  I probably weighed 110-115 pounds at the time, but he had pointed out my saddlebags, buddha belly, and flat chest enough that I saw myself as a hideous cow.  I had completely stopped trying, wearing no makeup, doing nothing with my hair, and dressed in jeans and t-shirts every day.  Even though we did nothing but engage in epic arguments, he had somehow managed to make me feel completely dependent on him and that he was the only person in the world who really wanted me in his life, and I had convinced myself that that was love.  All because of his jealousies and insecurites.

Another thing that had changed about me was my own personal jealousies.  I had never been jealous of any boyfriend in the past, but he taught me to be mistrustful, and when he began spending more and more time with a female friend of ours, my radar went crazy.  Only thing is, my radar was right on target and shortly after it was over between us. 

It was like an atom bomb had been dropped on my life.  God bless my friends, because they were all still there waiting for me and I credit some of them, together with my family, for quite literally saving my life.  The aftermath was that bad.  But still, I had zero self esteem and I didn't know what lesson to take away from what had happened.  Another person's jealousies and insecurities had almost completely destroyed me, but then all of my own jealousies were entirely founded.

Then, years later, it happened again with Colby.  I met one of his female friends at one of his military training programs, and immediately, those exact same alarm bells went off in my head.  Colby told me I was being completely ridiculous, but sure enough, when the February rolled around that he decided to break things off with me, he immediately turned to her and they dated briefly.  I'd been telling him for years that she was after him, and he'd almost convinced me that I was crazy, but then once again, my jealousies were validated

Now, I should say that Colby did eventually see the error of his ways, and I was able to forgive his temporary lapse in judgment, and from the moment that we mended fences and got back together, I have not felt a single smidgen of jealousy, so that's all kinds of awesome. And I also should put in a disclaimer here saying that Ex seems very happy now with the woman he began dating and then married after we broke up, and it is distinctly possible that he treats her like a queen and I just brought out the worst in him, so you know, everything has a way of working out in the end.  I suppose.

But I'd like to put it to you, since my life experiences have done nothing but confuse the issue.  What is your opinion?  Is jealousy always completely unacceptable and a tendency toward it a major character flaw, or is it just your intuition's way of telling you something is really wrong and attention should be paid?  Or does it really just depend on the situation and the people involved?

Six

Every now and then, when more than a week has gone by without updating the blog, I get to thinking that maybe it's just too much of a hassle and I should just go ahead and ditch it like every journa or diaryl I have ever written.  But then I forget a rather important, pressing detail of my life, like, just for example of course, how long exactly Colby and I have been together.  You know, it seems like it might be six years, but that couldn't possibly be right because I'm just not that old, right?  But then I can do a little research and find a post from three years ago about how we've been together for three years, and well, you know, the sanity and peaceful sleep that comes with the ability to retrace my steps like that--you just can't buy that peace of mind at Target!

So, I carry on blogging.

Six years.  That means that we've been together for more than 20% of my life--ever since I was just a wee pup of 19 years old.  I'm three years older than he was when he started dating, and holy hell, I thought he was just about the most grown up, mature, OLDEST dude ever.  Even my little sister is older than that now.

We talk a lot about the future.  It makes me laugh sometimes to remember how difficult it was to get him to open up about "where do you see us in five years?" when we were dating and I was desperate for a commitment, or even the hint of one.  Now we toss around the idea of having babies and moving to far off locales and where we want to retire like we're discussing what movie we want to go see.  It feels so natural and completely organic that we'll have all of these experiences together.

Life is a little overwhelming right now.  We're both a little stressed at work and in our respective graduate programs.  The economy is taking it's toll in the form of a continuously diving house value and we are dealing with the uncertainty of having no clue where in the world we will live at this time next year.  I haven't had the time or energy to reconnect with many of my friends lately, and I feel a little bit of the lonely winter sadness creeping around my heart.

Colby asked me the other day if I had changed my mind about ever wanting to have kids.  The full weight of just how incredibly difficult it is to deal with children hits me every single day.  And every night I come home from taking care of and disciplining other people's kids and thank the good Lord above that I can just veg out on the sofa and watch tv without having to worry about taking care of anyone else.  I can just sit, snug in the crook of my husband's arm and feel perfectly content.

I don't know when I'll know that I want to have kids.  Right now, building a family seems rather like the prospect of college did when I was in grade school.  Something that I knew that I was going to to do, but no concrete ideas of exactly when or how I would get there.  I want to be a better person before I have kids.  I want to do the laundry on a regular basis, keep the house clean, and be the wife that gets dinner on the table every night, and doesn't have to be scolded to eat her vegetables.  I want to finish school and actually use my degree for a little while and then take a break so that I can stay home.  I've seen a lot in my short time working at daycare facilities, and as great a program as I think we have, the working mom and dad lifestyle is not what I want for my children.

But I'm just not ready to give up my life for them yet.  I remember sitting in the parking lot of Colby's apartment when he lived in Georgia, about four years ago.  We were in my car, saying our goodbyes when he suddenly stopped talking and gazed steadily into my eyes.

"Our children will have beautiful eyes."

What I didn't know at the time was that we still had years of tumult and distance ahead of us.  What I did know was that he was right and that some day those theoretical children would become a reality.  And even now, six years after he shyly asked me to be his Valentine, as he was dropping me off after our first date, and four years after that out of character moment in the parking lot, I know that some day he will be right.  And when that time comes, whether I'm serving up four course meals or just barely managing to pour cereal and milk into a bowl, I know that our children will have the most beautiful eyes in the world.

The Rose City

Last week, I was just going about my normal business of work, school, and sleep when I happened to take a glance at my little used iCal.  Much to my surprised, I saw January 19th highlighted in red with big bold letters proclaiming "NO WORK!!!"  I don't know exactly how a three day weekend escaped my notice--generally I'm counting down the days until a no work day like they're Christmas--but I didn't question it, instead I just fired off an email to Colby (Who was stuck in Korea with a broken down airplane, and probably off gallivanting about Seoul at the time.  It is so hard to be him.) to inform him that we were taking a vacation.  To Portland.

You see, as we near the end of our time here in Washington (I hope and pray), I have suddenly realized how very much there is to do around here that we keep talking about and never doing.  I visited Portland for a day once with my parents, but Colby had never been and I knew that there was so much left to do there, and since it's a two hour drive away, it seemed like the obvious choice.

So, I hopped on TripAdvisor and Hotels.com, made some reservations, got the dogs booked in a kennel at the vet, and started counting down the days in earnest.  We decided to wake up early on Saturday and drive down to the city to meet our Epicurian Excursion walking tour by 9:45.  The tour was a great way to kick off our trip, as it managed to combine breakfast, lunch, and an introduction to the city all in one fell swoop.  It sort of set the theme for the rest of the weekend: Eating and Making (Good Natured) Fun of Hippies.  You see, the one unifying theme of all the restaurants we visited were the following traits: Fresh, Local, Organic, Sustainable, and Seasonal.  These are all wonderful attributes that make for some seriously delicious food, but it was also seriously hysterical how fervent these restaurant owners were about being the MOST sustainable or the MOST organic.  I don't know, maybe you had to be there, but it was really funny to us.  Particularly when they detailed exactly how much garbage they threw away per week.  That's great and all, but seriously, just give me some beer!

However, that was not nearly as hilarious as the time the lady at the culinary school described the wine she was pouring for us as "an explosion in her mouth."  My eyes nearly bugged out of my head, and I tried my damndest to hold it in, but finally I turned my beet red face to Colby and mouthed the inevitable, "That's what she said!  That's what she said!!!!"  And then we both snort laughed in an embarrassing manner.  And that is why we love each other.

 

After the food tour we headed off to my Mecca: Powell's Books.  This place is just... intense.  It was just room after room with every available wall and floorspace covered in bookshelves and crammed with books.  After I had wandered through in awe for a couple of hours, I had to sit and sift through the books that I had been stuffing into my basket in a frenzy.  I left with a long list of books I want to buy, including The Road and The Executioner's Song, but only allowed myself to walk out with four new books: A Lion Among Men: Volume III in The Wicked Years, The Red Tent, The Painted Kiss, and Why Do Pirates Love Parrots?  Because really, why do they?  (Don't tell me!)

Following Powell's, we braved the blustery wind that had begun whipping and headed off to check into our hotel, the wonderful Hotel Monaco.  This is an extremely pet friendly hotel, and it was all I could do to not hurl myself at every passing puppy.  Colby wondered how much they must spend on carpet cleaning solution, and I must say, whatever amount they spend is absolutely worth every penny, because we could not smell a single bit of pet odor.  In fact, I may even go so far as to say it was the best smelling, cleanest hotel I've ever experienced.  Dinner that night was at the delicious Mother's Bistro & Bar, just a couple blocks away from our centrally located hotel, and we liked it so much, we headed back for an even more delectable brunch on Sunday morning.

Sunday we spent expanding our cultural horizons at the Porland Art Museum and Colby explained to me why exactly electricity costs money at the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry.  Plus I got to shoot off a bottle rocket and experience an earthquake in the same day I gazed upon a Degas and a Monet.  I just love museums!  That night we decided to just go with our affinity for maternally named restaurants and I had a wonderful gnocchi and tiramisu at the Mamma Mia Trattoria.

Monday morning we packed up our bags and headed out for our last day of the Porland experience.  We had breakfast at Bijou Cafe, picked up some coffee for our parents at Stumptown Coffee (check the mail, y'all!), then made our way to Chinatown to visit the Chinese Gardens.  I had visited the Japanese Gardens in Portland with my mom in September, and I was struck by how different the two experiences were.  I am by no mean an expert in Asian gardening, but just based on these two experiences, it seems that the Japanese garden was much more forcused on actual plants and what you would think of as a "garden environment" with ponds and rocks and statuary, while the Chinese garden was much more architectural, with its focus on providing a serene, tranquil environment for scholarly pursuits or philosophical conversation.

Well, philosophical conversation AND making faces at ceramic Chinese dragons.

From there we headed over to Grant Park so that I could hang out with Ramona Quimby and Henry Huggins at the Beverly Cleary sculpture garden.  Our last stop was The Grotto, a gorgeous outdoor Catholic shrine and botanical garden run by the Order of Friar Servants of Mary, then we bid a fond adieu to the Rose City.  We stopped by the Mount St Helens visitors center on the way back home, but it was closed for the holiday, so Colby just snapped a few photos before we went back on our merry way.

Check this out:

The mountain.  Now you see it, now you don't!

I plan on debuting this amazing feat of magicry before a live audience at Spring Break.  If you can't be there, look for it to be featured in the 2009 edition of the immensely popular Girls With Low Self Esteem, coming to a Hollywood Video near you!

So, all in all, Portland was a really fun experience, made almost more so by the rather spontaneous nature of the trip.  We didn't really plan a whole lot, and didn't give ourselves any specific schedule to stick to, so I didn't come home feeling like I needed a vacation from my vacation.  We're working on a list of things we still want to do here before the end of the year, and stay tuned Twilight fans, because I'm lobbying hard for a summer visit to Forks and LaPush.

It's a Beautiful Day

This week has been a bit... rocky, to say the least.  Things all started off just wonderfully.  I spent a quiet Friday evening in, cuddling with my cute husband and Saturday we decorated our Christmas tree to the tune of John Denver and the Muppets A Christmas Together, a holiday tradition that goes back as far as I can remember.  Just as we were finishing up our decorating and moving on to cleaning the kitchen, the house phone rang.  Since I never answer the house phone (in my defense, it's ALWAYS telemarketers or wrong numbers), Colby made a mad dash to pick up the receiver.

It was my parents.  Just calling to catch up.

And to let us know that my dad had been to the doctor that day and they had discovered that the small growth on his lung was cancer.

Of course, I melted down.  My dad is superhuman.  Immortal.  Everlasting.  Silly things like cancer don't have any effect on people like my dad.

So, once I recovered from my crying spell, I tearfully asked Colby if we could go to Coldstone.  And of course he said yes.  Because on top of being cute, he is also incredibly kind.

We returned from Coldstone with three containers of ice cream, and I downed as much of it as I could before settling onto the couch with a bottle of red wine.

The week progressed fairly normally from there.  Sunday I wrote a paper, Monday I went to work, today I went to work, and on the way home, I called my parents to see how my dad's follow up appointment went.

And as it turns out, they were just kind of kidding about that whole cancer thing, sorry guys, Merry Christmas!  Rather than a small spot of lung cancer, what my father actually has is a carcinoid, a fairly rare, but non-malignant tumor that pops up on various organs from time to time.  He'll still have to have it removed, but at the moment it appears that this means no chemo and no radiation, which honestly, from what we experienced with my mother is the most nightmarish portion of a cancer diagnosis.

I can't help but be a little upset that my family and some of our friends had to spend three days thinking that my dad had lung cancer, but in the long run, this really is a phenomenal Christmas present.  Though it's kind of along the lines of someone telling you they're going to shoot you in the knee then instead kicking you in the stomach.  Yes, certainly miles better than a gunshot wound, but you're still getting a foot in the gut.  Maybe this is a new medical approach, diagnose everyone with a fatal disease, then bask in their gratefulness when you let them know you got it a bit wrong.

Now we wait, I suppose.  My dad still has to go through some tests and be poked and prodded a bit more, but for now, it seems as though we're in the clear.

Colby is in Alaska right now, doing some sort of Air Force business, but he should be back on Friday, just in time to commence the one week countdown to the celebration of my birth.  I'd gotten quite used to having him around this past month, so the quietness and lack of a cuddle partner has been hard to adjust to once more.  But thanks to those of you who have been sending me all kinds of prayers and positive thoughts over the internet and phone lines.  Clearly, you've worked some kind of Christmas miracle, and for that, you're all stars in my book.

One Year

I know I have so much to catch you all up on, but I had to come out of blog hibernation today to marvel at the fact that exactly one year ago, I woke up early in the morning to the sound of raindrops to...

Put on this dress

 

Then go to this place

 

Where I met this guy

So that after five years of mostly ups and a few downs, we could finally do this

And this

Then eat this

Do some of this

And, of course, plenty of this

 

I cannot believe how fast this year has gone by.  It feels like it was just a few months ago that I was frantically wrapping bridesmaid gifts, waiting anxiously for our vendors to start arriving, trying not to get carsick in the limo on the way to the venue, and swallowing my tears as the string quartet began to play the processional.  I still have bouts of the giggles from time to time when I think about the fact that I'm married, or refer to Colby as my husband.  It still feels very shiny and new, but at the same time it feels like it's just always been this way.

So many people warned me that the first year of marriage would be the hardest, but all I can say is that the past year has been one of the easiest and happiest of my life.  We conquered a mountain of milestones together--our first Christmas and New Year's as a married couple on our own, an international vacation with zero bloodshed and very little squabbling, as well as a four and a half month long deployment and an exciting homecoming.

Over this next year, I want to work on really appreciating the amazing husband that I was lucky enough to land, and not taking for granted his presence in my life.  I'm going to try to soften some of my sharper words when I'm frustrated, and not lose my patience so quickly in stressful situations.  We have big changes looming in our future as the end of our time in Washington grows nearer and as we both work toward completing our graduate degrees.  I'm so glad that Colby is the one in my life that will be there with me through everything, and whether the year ahead of us is as smooth as the last or filled with more challenges, I'm looking forward to another 365 days together, and then another after that, and another after that, and... well, I think you see where I'm going with this.  Happy Anniversary, Colby, I love you more every day, and I can't wait to see where the future takes us!

I Am So Close to Going Over the Edge Right Now

It has not been a very good week.  In fact, it's kind of been a fucking bad week that, God-willing, reached it's pinnacle last night in a giant 30 minute crying jag, followed by about 15 more minutes of delicate, ladylike sobs as I tried to give half a crap about Project Runway.  (Digression:  I honestly couldn't care less about who wins at Bryant Park.  Has there ever been such a boring season as this?)  It's not one huge, gigantic catastrophe that has occurred, it's been a multitude of tiny, stinging pinpricks, one after another in painful, infuriating succession.

Monday was really pretty okay, between multiple glasses of strawberry vodka and lemonade with chocolate fondue and a fairly excellent episode of Gossip Girl.  But then Tuesday, I woke up feeling utterly exhausted and rundown, and that evening came with the revelation that Colby's leave request for the holidays was not approved, so it looks like I will be spending my second Christmas in a row away from my family and this will be his third.  Yesterday, I'm pretty sure I broke my damn toe playing Yahtzee! of all things.  I shit you not--I was sitting in my chair, waiting for my turn when I felt like I got a cramp in my toe.  I stood up and couldn't put any pressure on it without feeling nauseous from pain (granted, I do have a VERY LOW tolerance for pain...) and it's swollen and painfully bruised feeling today.  Then, last night I read something that really astounded me with its insensitivity and I decided to just throw in the towel and go to bed before I exploded all over the internet.  On top of all of that, I am still so exhausted, I'm uber-PMSing right now and I had to wake up at 5 a.m. this morning for work, and will have to do so through next Friday.  Oh, and my background check hasn't been cleared yet, so I can't do my classroom observation and I can't get any of my teacher friends to respond to my messages so that I can interview them about bloody Social Cognition Models before Saturday.  And of course it is cold, rainy and completely grey and dreary outside today, which is doing absolutely nothing to improve my mood.

It was when I was trying to hobble upstairs last night so that I could switch out a load of laundry that I started to feel my "brave face" collapsing.  The only way I could get up the stairs was by sitting down and scooting up backwards, and by the time I got to the third step up, I was already experiencing full on, body racking sobs. Just this past weekend, I began a post about how well I've been handling Colby's deployment, and how as much as I've missed him, it has been completely awesome jet-setting around the country and spending loads of quality time with some of my favorite girls.  It's only a few days later, and now I honestly don't know how I'm going to make it through another month without him here.  I'm so goddamned tired of being alone, of having to deal with life by myself, of having to constantly run up and downstairs on a broken fucking foot and not having anyone here to just take care of me for a little while.  Of having to come up with things to say to him on the phone after we've talked about everything under the sun when all I really want is to have him sitting on the couch next to me while we watch television together.

And that is why, at 9:33 in the morning, I am sitting on the couch, watching Top Design, and drinking a giant glass of red wine.  It is either this or cry some more, and I just really don't feel like reapplying eye makeup right now.