WLC DAY 14- LOVE DOES NOT EQUAL HAPPINESS

Today I was talking to my friend about my 30th birthday this June, and she was surprised to find out I would still be in Seattle and not back with Hubs in NC yet. My reasoning for this was that I don't want to turn 30 with only him and our cat. Sure, I've made a few friends out there, but compared to the party I'll have in Seattle a NC bash would have a depressing turn out. In the last ten years, I've moved so much often I'm in a new place on my birthday, and I rarely get to celebrate with people who I've known more than a month. This year, I'm ready for something less... intimate.

At the core, my decision to stay in Seattle, while based on a party, really has nothing to do with a birthday and everything to do with happiness.

Hubs and I have been in a relationship for almost four years, and during that time I have learned this: Loving someone can change your life, it can fill you up and make you a better person- but you cannot be happy on love alone.

It's not all on Hubs to provide me with ultimate happiness either, it would be impossible and it's simply not his job to. He is an addition to my happiness, making my life better exponentially simply by being who he is and supporting me. Together we can travel, be active, take classes. He can laugh as I spend too much money at sephora, go to breweries with me, and all of the things. He can be a perfect, loving husband that makes me feel safe and wonderful, but he himself cannot fulfill me.

This is where things like my career come in. Staying busy, feeling accomplished, and the stuff money provides like trips, adventures, fitness, being on a sports team and all of that. These are things he can support me with, but not give me, and unfortunately these are not things that are possible in certain places we have lived...and thus why I moved to Seattle during his deployment, and stayed when he got back early.

The response I get to that is you make your own happiness. My place is with my husband because otherwise what's the point of being married. I could have any sort of shit job to make money, volunteer to feel accomplished, get a hobby to feel creative, and the ever popular have kids.

There's nothing much else I can say to that, except that it's hard to understand if you're not a career person. I don't mean you have a career instead of a job, or that you enjoy your work. I mean you LOVE your career and it defines who you are. My greatest struggle since leaving Chicago has not been loving hubs or even his deployment. It was figuring out what my new identity would be if I was not to be a creative, a MadMen if you will, any longer.

Over a year ago I started studying to be a personal trainer. It's something I enjoy, something I'm good at, but I haven't finished yet because of one thing: At my heart, I'm still a MadMen, and I continually search for ways to stay on that path. Being a personal trainer would be fun, but it lacks luster and edge. Most of all it lacks all the struggle, drama and heartache you go through to create, and the straight up euphoria when it comes to life.

But love conquers all, right? And a job is just a job. As a co-worker once said, we're selling shoes, not saving lives.

Of course, he's right. It's just advertising, and he punches in at 9 and out at 5 every day. He doesn't drive home thinking about headlines or spend his showers wondering up ideas. For him, it's an on-off switch. There's a lot of people like him who have zero passion for what they do, and if you aren't passionate about something, well it's pretty easy to forget about it and move on. If you are, it's going to be like cutting off your arm very slowly.

While I love Hubs more than anything, I guess in some ways I don't love him more than I love me. There's certain things he can only trump so far. And, he's not any different. Flying helicopters for the military is his dream, and when we were dating he made it clear that he would go after that with or without me. I don't believe that makes us selfish people, and I don't think that means he's not the one for me or we're a terrible married couple. It means the opposite. Quite frankly, we are a power couple.

Over four years we have thrived, loving each other more each day. Nothing can tear us apart. Thousands of miles, months in separate states, even war has not put a dent in our relationship. We know what we want and are never idle, constantly working towards new goals. We know each other better than any two people should. Each moment together is precious, and each phone call is the highlight of the day (even though I call him three, if not more times).  I am the absolute neediest of wives, and he is the most patient of husbands. I love our cat, he pretends to hate our cat but secretly cuddles with it. I make sausage on a fork, he mades seafood chowder from scratch. My complete and total insanity somehow compliments his complete and total insanity.

So, I'm going to stay in Seattle for a few more months. I'm going to work my butt off, hike, climb, taste beer, hang out, watch epic mountain sunsets, and have a blast. I'm going to miss Hubs every moment, but I'm a tough kid and we'll be together again soon. For now, there are places to go, things to do, bad ass shit to conquer-- and I challenge all naysayers to give our lives a try and see how they come out on the other end. It's not the most ideal life, but it works, and not for any other reason but because when you love someone, you make it work.  You compliment each other.  Above all, you make that extra effort to exponentially increase their happiness.

That's what makes a marriage, not the lack of miles between you or the days you spend apart.

-------------------------

WHOLE LIFE CHALLENGE THREE THINGS I'm GRATEFUL FOR
1) For the phone. For talking to Hubs on my way to work, during lunch, and before bed.
2) For my flannel comforter from my mother in law. It is the best and worst thing to ever happen to me in the morning. I am so damn lucky.
3) For bread. God I want bread so bad. I also hate God for making bread bad for you. It should have the nutritional value of a carrot.

WLC DAY 10- THE NEW NORMAL

Recently I've been thinking a lot abut the N word.

Normal. 

It's a dull world, but weirdly one most of us spend a lot of time aspiring to be. There's two parts of it: one is sticking out but only in the good ways, and the other I can only describe as a feeling of home, of comfort, of our standard. 

Right now I'm having a whole lot of trouble figuring out what exactly that is to me, but I'm getting the feeling that my current life is it. An ever changing bedroom, belongings that fit in my car, an overly-outgoing attitude partly based on survival, and a relationship on the phone- all cut up in spurts of physically being someone and trying to figure out what it means to be married.  My normal seems to be a roller coaster, never taking the same loop twice and never stopping with enough time to get off and put my head on straight. Most days, I think that's a good thing. 

A few months ago I had a pretty interesting conversation with some ladies I work with. Here's some background on them:

C's husband lives and teaches at a prestigious college in New Mexico. She works with me for a great company in Seattle. For three months each summer he moves to Seattle. She seems him on all the school breaks and, like me, work allows her to go and work from New Mexico on occasion to spend time with him. They've been doing this for three years. 

L's husband is a firefighter. He has one of those one for days, off for days schedules. When he's on, he'll be gone for 1-3 days at a time. I don't recall how long they've been married, but I get the feeling this has been awhile. She likes the days when he's gone. It's Me time. She doesn't have to keep the house super clean, can watch trashy TV and do whatever she feels like. When he's home, it's together time. 

When I told these stories to my friends, they all had the same reaction- especially to the husband in New Mexico. First: Wow, that must be hard. Second: I could never do that. Third:: Well that's not really a marriage, how could they feel that way, and most especially pertaining to New Mexico relationship- how could you not figure that out to be together? How could you let your jobs rule your relationships? 

I didn't share any of those reactions, most especially the last one. In fact, I understood these women and connected with them in a way that I don't with most people, even other army wives and especially with the last sentiment. After all, Hubs is back from overseas and living in North Carolina, and here I am 'selfishly' working away on the west coast. When I mentioned that to my friends, every single of one of them felt that I was different. Military is different. It forces choices on you. 

I don't really believe that- I very much made my choice to be and to stay here for the same reasons C hasn't moved to New Mexico and L enjoys her time watching trashy TV and truly enjoys her alone time. I love working. I love that my career is a culture, not a job and I don't want to give that up.  I love exploring. And if I'm honest with myself, I love a little bit of chaos. 

Despite all of that, I've found myself yearning for Normal. I see my co-workers leaving for dinner with their spouses, to pick up their kids from day care, calling them to say they'll be home late from work. I wonder what the heck that is like. Today I was telling my mother-in-law how this is the first time in four years we will spend a cheesy Valentines Day together. That we've only actually spent one anniversary together if you could both marriage and "dating" years, out of a total of 5. We've had more birthdays and Christmases than other special days, but half of those have been spent driving across the country to the next destination, and if I'm lucky, with me, him and our cat. We don't fight over normal couple things, but stupid stuff like "You didn't call me before bed" or "you send me too many pictures of the cat and not any sexy ones." 

When I've mentioned as much to C & L, that some days I wonder about Normal, they tell me "You are normal. This, this is your normal." The scariest, and I suppose most comforting part is, they are absolutely right. And when I think about it, what scares me more IS normal. There are days we talk about him getting into a certain unit, and that would place us in one city for five years. Five years. And then after, we'd spend his last 5 in Washington and retire there. Those last two sentences sound like a death sentence. The idea of staying in one place, of giving up a revolving bedroom door, that is truly scary. 

So, this is my normal. This is my comfort zone. I'm always telling Hubs that I'm afraid of pretty much anything, and the difference between being a regular person and a compelling person is doing all of the things you are afraid of, so that's why I do things- so maybe, maybe "normal" is something I need to give a try some day. 

In the end, I guess I'm still finding my normal, but days like today, I'm not sure right here and now is the normal I want to be, because ultimately, I don't want normal to be a country between me and the one I love most. 

Le sigh. 

WLC DAY 3- HANGOVERS AND VALENTINES

Football ruins everything.

Even though the day started out well with touch-rugby, it quickly disintegrated into a blur of green, blue, chants and too much beer.  It was a fun time, but all in all, I didn't need that one last drink, or the last one after that, or the last one after that. And today I felt like crap. Maybe I'm just getting old, but I'm starting to get sick of that feeling. I'd rather wake up, feeling good and ready for the day. I woke up this morning at 530, went to the gym, and instead of getting a run in I ended up back in bed feeling like I was going to throw up and accidentally missing a 9am meeting.

This weekend I'm going to a snowshoe hash, and I'm pretty much dreading the 5 hour sunday drive back to seattle, because I'm a little afraid I'm going to get carried away in all the madness, chaos, and fun. I don't think I'm an alcoholic, but I'm starting to find victory in the nights I can go out and hold back. Not sure if that's a good feeling or not.

Today I also woke up to an email from the FRG- for those of you who don't know what that is, it's the Family Readiness Group. In the military, it can be generalized as a bunch of gossipy women with too many kids and not much else to do with their time. Anyway, they are having a "valentines day party" on Valentines day from 6-9. At first I scoffed at this, because why the heck would I want to spend Valentines day with a bunch of other military people, and my husband. But, I forgot. I was lucky my husband came home early, but half of his company is still deployed and they are spending Valentines day on their own.

Not that, if I was there, I would want to go spend V-Day with a bunch of other lonely women. It sounds like the saddest place on earth. However it did strike a cord with me. In the 4 years hubs and I have been together, we haven't had one V-Day together. We've always been in separate states, and this is really starting to get to me. Even though this is the first year we're going to actually be with one another, it makes me wonder about future valentines days. I know he's going to deploy again. I know coming back doesn't mean home for good, and I wonder if I can hack this for another 12 years.

Some days aren't so bad, but some days are- and the days that are bad, well, they are just happening more and more. Sometimes I wish he stayed deployed,  because the fact that he came home and we're living on completely opposite coasts makes it worse. Now it's not mandatory, it's a choice we made.

And, I suppose to bring it back round to feeling hungover today, days like this are the worst. Days like this are the ones where I'm supposed to wake up with a bowl of goldfish crackers and bottle of gatorade next to the bed, with a packet of alka seltzer for my tummy and two extra strength excederins and he's humming in the kitchen making breakfast. Half the time, I expect that still, and then when I crack my eye only to find a cat hovering over me giving me the death stare, a cold bedroom, and the bachelor-style condiments only in the fridge, well it's a pretty depressing feeling.

So, I suppose I'll start acting like a good grown up again, if only till North Carolina again. And by then, maybe it'll stick.

DAY 1 WHOLE LIFE CHALLENGE

I'm starting this up again because I've decided to do the Whole Life Challenge- an 8 week, online game-ified program that's supposed to help you change some of your bad habits into good ones. For me, back to working out 6 days a week, being active and less lazy, cooking again, stretching daily, and drinking less.

Some things I care a lot about more than others. For one, I want to get back into shape. When husband deployed, we had spent a month just being lazy, together, eating and drinking whatever he wanted. Then I quite literally drove across the country, from one coast to the other, visiting friends, drinking beer, hiking and eating whatever. And, with him being gone, and me back in a place with some old friends, well, going out to eat and drink became and excuse to take my mind off of being alone.

It's not that I got fat, or even got 'chubby,' but I'm certainly not happy with myself. And, living in the great state of Washington, I feel like I'm missing out. Boozing is fun, but there's so much to do here I'll just be kicking myself when I leave again. This year, my new years resolve is two parts. 1- For the next 6 months I'm here, do something interesting and new every weekend. Outdoors if possible. 2- When I move somewhere new, do the same. It doesn't have to be crazy, but it has to be done.

Then there's the cooking thing. Hubs is always making fun of me because I am constantly eating sausage on a fork. Yeah, that's exactly what it sounds like. I know how to cook, I'm just lazy. We have a chef at work who makes us lunch everyday, it's relatively healthy, and nearly free, so there's nothing really forcing me to get off my butt to make dinner. Not even left overs. It sounds stupid but when we move back in together, I'd like to be better at making dinner for him. He loves cooking, but I know he doesn't want to do it every night, and that he's not going to be thrilled when it's tacos or stir fry, or.. sausage on a fork.

Lastly, I feel like I am in very sad shape. I'm not as fast a runner anymore because I haven't been working out. Quite frankly, my ego is getting in the way. I was doing so well in marathons and especially triathlons, I don't want to do it again and suck. I'm not sure if I'll get over that, but I have to at least get back in the gym and on the trail.

Also, there's rugby. Rugby saved me from myself. When I got to North Carolina, I was full of anger and hate over the loss of Germany. But the Rugby team found me. They gave me friends, something to do, and places to go.  Most importantly, they gave me something to work towards. When I left NC for the west coast, the first thing I did was contact the rugby team. I found a new set of friends, a great new roommate, and touch rugby with a bunch of dudes who range from "How are you still walking, let alone springing and kicking my ass- old," ex USA team members, college kids, and a plethora younger (super sexy) guys, all who are willing to give me pointers, help me get better, and are, if I'm honest, a pleasure bumping into over and over again. Girls if you are single and straight, this is place to be. Oh yeah, and some girls show up too, ha! Long story short on that, I want to be a kick ass rugby player, and that involves me getting faster and stronger.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to getting my life-ducks in a row. Since I left Seattle the first time, my life has been nothing short of insanity. From 80 hour weeks in Chicago, to moving to Alabama and driving three hours to work, almost moving to Germany, moving to North Carolina, unemployment, re-employment, unemployment, re-employment, and then deployment and moving to WA- well it's enough to throw any girls life-ducks out of alignment.

So here's to getting back on track, and making sure I can fit into my wedding dress for Wedding 2.0 this October!

This weekend's adventure: Snowshoeing SkyLine Lake Trail. Not great views because it was cloudy but the trees were beautiful and it was awesome bouncing around in all the snow.

Getting Rid of Oscar the Grouch Part 1

I've held off on writing a blog post for awhile because being angry at the world doesn't lead to good writing.

And I wasn't just angry at the world. I was angry at the military, my husband, and most of all myself. There were many days I was filled with rage and regret.

When we first got married and I moved to Alabama, I immediately found a new job in Birmingham- 3 hours away. I moved down there to be with Hubs, but usually I only spent 3 days a week with him. Going home felt more like vacation. I was constantly unpacking, cleaning, and packing again.

But it wasn't all that bad. Birmingham is a great city to be young in. I liked working and exploring a new place, and the friends I made at the Hash House Harriers were instant and awesome.

And, every bad day I would have would be rewarded with moving to Germany for 3 years. For me, living abroad was a dream come true. I'd get my old job back at Leo Burnett, only now in Frankfurt. I'd travel the world. There would be no bad days in Europe. Only places to go and things to do.

Then the Army fucked up. The woman in charge of signing my special passport let her notary expire, and continued working for three months. Her bosses didn't catch it, or didn't care. By the time we found out about it it was almost too late. We tried to remedy the situation. We informed Bravo Company, then while we worked tirelessly to solve the problem they, and all the people at Fort Rucker's Transportation office, sat with their thumbs up their butts until it was too late. 100 families were effected.

At the last minute, we were sent to Fort Bragg in Fayetteville North Carolina- nick named "Fayette-nam." Hubs would also be joining a deploying unit. He probably wouldn't get any vacation time, and would be off to Afghanistan within 3-4 months of arriving.

My world exploded. With the military slowly pulling out of Germany and Korea, this might be my only chance to live abroad more than a few months. I could never make my dream a reality- at least not without a divorce. There were times during the past few months that I actually thought about it. Not because I didn't love Hubs or I didn't think I would be happy with him in the future, but because he got to live his dream and I was, and am, completely and terribly jealous. Every time he and his friends would talk about helicopters, it just sent me into an internal rage. I was trapped.

I felt that the military has ruined my life. They don't care about me or Hubs. To them he's a number and I'm just an attachment. We aren't people who can love or be hurt. They don't care there isn't anywhere for me to work in Fayetteville, or that my graduate degree would have to be put to use at Starbucks so I could pay off my student loans. They don't care about my dreams or ambitions, just sticking me onto a base with a bunch of crazed women who shoot out kids because there's nothing else to do. I had a career and a life. Now it was all down the tubes. Again.

The sad truth is I was so focused on Germany, even if they had sent us to Hawaii for three years I still would have been a pile of poop.

When one person is unhappy in a relationship, it makes everybody unhappy.  And I strongly blamed Hubs for the situation we were in, even though it wasn't his fault. We began to tear each other down, not just in private but in front of friends as well. We fought everywhere, about everything.

Though we went on little vacations to take the edge off, and had a great time, I didn't get better.

One day we were at a friend's house having drinks when he pointed out to me that if his wife was unhappy, he could deal with her- but that when I was unhappy he wanted to be miles and miles away. There was no dealing with a miserable me. I was surprised. I'm usually happy go lucky, bouncy, and let most things roll off my back. What happened to me? When did I become some a raging bitch that nobody wanted to be around me?

I didn't want to be that person anymore, but I had no idea how to stop. I just continued being angry only now I was more aware of it- which was worse.

We headed out Fayetteville late one morning. The car packed up. Cat on my lap. I swore this would be a new start. A new adventure. We were out of Enterprise where I spent the majority of my time miserable, to beautiful Carolina. Or so I was telling myself.

As the car drove off I held Hub's hand cheering with fake enthusiasm about the road before us.

(PART 2 Coming Soon...it's much cheerier I promise.)

The Bad Ass Ladies of Bravo Company...And Beyond.

I've had a long absence from my blog for several reasons, all of which can be discussed at a later date.

This is much more important.

Last night my husband asked me what my dream was, and I told him I didn't know anymore. It used to be invading "The 3%" - which is the percent of women who hold executive, creative positions in advertising. Now that I'm half out of the biz, it's not really possible.

Hubby asked me what I wanted to be instead. After thinking about it, I decided I at least wanted to be what the 3% stood for. To be smart. Creative. I wanted people to look up to me. To be able to solve problems. To have people look at me and think "damn, that girl does some cool shit. I wish I could do that."

As I was saying this, I realized I knew women that had those traits, ladies other than female creative directors and ECDs. In fact, one of them had been sitting at our backyard fire last night. And it wasn't just her, there were several of them I counted among my good friends.

They are the bad ass lady helicopter pilots of the Army.

It perplexes me that I never really thought about them before during my time down in Alabama. We watch movies like Divergent and The Hunger Games, in awe of the female heroines, wishing they really existed. As it turns out, a lot of those ladies are more than real.

These ladies fly Apaches, shrieking into the middle of the fight guns blazing. They fly Blackhawks, landing through a tidal wave a bullets to pick up the fallen. And have you seen Act Of Valor when that boat goes flying out of the back of a Chinook hovering just above the water? Jeebus!.

And have you SEEN a helicopter hover? The pilots themselves have told me they don't actually know how it works. They fully believe it runs on magic, and somewhere there are unicorns and leprechauns sitting around drinking beer willing these things into existence.

By all rights these things shouldn't even be airborne. An airplane's natural state is soaring like a bird with it's wings open. A helicopter's natural state is upside down and on fire. That is where it wants to be.

Despite all that, women get in these things every day and take to the air. I know guys do these things too but let's be real. Men are stupid and do things for stupid's sake.  But ladies, we are smarter than that. I don't know what's wrong with you, but you do things I am incapable of.

Come on. How could you not want to drive that. 

So when it comes to all those traits I desire to have, I can find it in all of those women. Smart. Problem Solvers. People looking up and respecting them. Doing cool shit other people wish they could do.

It's even more bad ass than drinking whiskey and writing superbowl commercials at 3am.

When you think of the world they work in, it gets even more amazing. Working in any male dominated industry can be hard. We have to tougher, smarter, constantly proving ourselves, all while trying to stay feminine and be respected as one of the guys. I mean come on, you put a set of boobs in a guys face and sometimes all that shit you work for goes out the window.

Take it up a notch as a chick army pilot:
Can you imagine staying emotionally centered when Aunt Flow is visiting and all you want to do is cry, pass out and eat a damn brownie but instead you're trying not to crash a billion dollar machine/kill yourself while some asshole is yelling in your ear and bullets are flying? I feel for ya gurl. That's some stress.

My favorite story about a female pilot is of a Marine Corps CH-46 pilot in Iraq. Her helicopter was shot down on her last flight. When they spoke about her, they said when the alarm would sound and everybody would run to their Birds, she was the fastest. She'd always get there first out of that whole crew of dudes. As she went down, she was calm and collected over the radio, doing everything she could even though inventible death was staring her right in the eyeballs.

The decisions these women made every day are astounding. I envy their ability to make tough calls in the heat of the moment, to go into battle like a modern day Lagertha  or Breanne of Tarth, and to not run from fear but towards it.

So after the next Game of Thrones episode you watch, instead of going on and on about how you'd do Daenerys or think about learning archery because you're certainly going to learn to kill and skin a deer like Katnis then make out with the hot but oppressed guy who appears out of the woods, stop and think a minute. Instead imagine those ladies doing epic feats from 10,000 miles up in a machine that even the pilots think is run by magic.

Thank you to the ladies of Bravo Company here at Fort Rucker. It has been a pleasure getting to know you, be your friend, and to have felt your influence. You might not have felt like you taught me anything, but I have learned much. I am looking forward to annoying more of you in Fort Bragg. You are way cooler than army wives.



SOME FUN TID BITS:

There are only 10 women for every 100 US Helicopter Pilots in the Army- and funny story- they only account for 3 out of every 100 accidents (Where's that ALLSTATE voice over guy when you need him? 

The first female helicopter pilot graduated in June, 1974.

2013 is the first year they allowed female helicopter pilots to try out for the 160th SOAR (Special Ops Helicopter Unit). 2014 they accepted their female candidate.

One woman trying out for the 160th kicked her fellow dudes asses during pull ups. She did over 20 when they told her to stop. The other guys topped out at 10. How cool is that. BEAST MODE!

MY SAD ATTEMPT AT WOOD BURNING

Since moving down to Fort Rucker, I've learned two days is my limit on entertaining myself. I can go to the gym, go for runs, try rock climbing, clean, watch TV, etc- but then I'm bored. Unfortunately when everyone you know is working there are limits on what you can do when you live in the middle of no-where.

When this happens I become a needy pain in the ass to Dear Hubby. I'm sure many an Army Wife has experienced this. If this continued I would have children or, more likely, buy myself a menagerie to just give myself something to do.

To curb the needy-ness, Hubs has encouraged every crazed craft idea I've come home with, and occasionally brings me handy time consuming gifts. Once he brought home a top of the line sewing machine I have promised myself I won't ever become domesticated enough to try.

What did intrigue was a wood burning kit. A couple on our honeymoon to Curaçao gave us a beautiful wooden heart ornament. I was just going to write "CURÇAO 2013" on it with marker, but this seemed more elegant.

I believe he got this at his Mecca, Lowes.

It came with several different "tips" for different effects. They get HOT and they will burn you so this isn't something to do with small kids running around. It's probably best to handcuff them to the television or let a stranger borrow them while you do this. 

I looked up a few things on google images and this looked AWESOME! Look at all the crazy dope masterful things I can make! I can take Hubby's pieces of scrap wood and become a milliontrilliongazillionaire! I WILL RULE ETSY. 

I tried a few of them out, making different shapes, dots, and curves. I found out I sucked pretty hard. 

My next attempt was to freehand CURAÇAO for the ornament. I did a pretty crap job. Maybe I can get a blind person to give me a few pennies for this stuff, but I think they will know better. 

After practicing a little bit more I drew a hummingbird, and went over it with the only tip I had figured out how to use: the calligraphy tip

. I had planned to put a bird on the ornament, and after this attempt I didn't feel so crappy. I bet I could even convince  a choice 4 year old to buy this off of me for a few quarters (Not my cousin Christie though, she's a fashionista and would whittle me down to a nickel)

After taking a break due to some hand cramps, I went back to it, this time taking some time to draw out the word in pencil first. I tried to freehand a little dazzle on the end and it turns out to be a bit of a tragedy but I'm starting to have faith this might not turn out so bad. 

Getting a hang of the curvy lines, and figuring out when to turn my body or the wood took a lot of time. I also learned that the crappier and less smooth the wood, the more difficult it is to navigate the pen. 

I can always lie and say a small island child burned it for us. 

I think maybe next I'm going to get some cheap wooden spoons, then slowly and methodically destroy them in the name of art. 

SIEZE THE DAY/ I FAILED TERRORISM 101

The military, for whatever reason, makes everybody and their Mom take an anti-terrorism course before they move out of the country. In theory, it's a good idea. In time-wasting-practice, it sucked.

You know, except for this super cool certificate they gave me. Perhaps I should frame it?

I enjoy they put "A T." It makes it sound more mysterious. 

*****This isn't to say that terrorism isn't a big deal or a terrible thing. People are affected by it each day. It goes beyond the U.S. to engulf thousands of people all over the world. *****

What the military does is boil it down to a sad attempt to make you more vigilant and strike fear into your heart. What I took away from this course is that I get a house on Base and never, ever leave. 

If you think about it though, staying home is probably just as bad for you. 

A lot of it just seemed incredibly over protective, and when I got a questions wrong I was confused because I thought I had answered with common sense. 

Oh, so THIS is how we walk down the stairs! My bad! 

Here's just a small taste (and these weren't even the most ridiculous ones): Did you know you should avoid staying on the 3rd and 5th floor, etc,. of a hotel? Floors with pools or gyms on them? Anything with an adjoining door? Alright, so I don't feel totally comfortable with rooms with adjoining doors, but we talking about terrorist, not serial killers here. They aren't going to pop up in your bathroom. 

Next you should not use showers without locks on them. 

Also, avoid largely populated places, especially known places Americans congregate. How many places does that get rid of? Clearly I should never have attended school in a different country, or gone to the bar after class for a few drinks. Forget the Louvre, tours, and meet up groups. The Hash House Harriers, my drinking running club, would absolutely be out. 

The army sides with Fred. Let's split up, gang! 

And don't forget all protestors. Even if they are hippies. If you see one at a train stop you planned on getting off at, get back on the train and go to the next stop. Walking past them could prove dangerous. 

That friendly looking clown is actually a zombie unicorn robot loaded with C4. 

I can't help but scuff about this because some of the most fun I had when I lived in Hamburg, Germany was not on the list of to-dos. I couchsurfed (If you aren't familiar with this, it's a great way to travel. You stay in people's homes for FREE! And they would show you around. If I stayed several nights or had a great host, I'd often make/buy them dinner).

Besides, after hearing about how scary hotels can be, I'd rather stay in a house anyway. 

I hitchhiked, stayed in hostels, explored every nook of cities, and went for runs when I deemed it safe- it was an amazing adventure. 

I was going to put a GIF from Hostel here but looking at them freaked me out and make me want to throw up. Enjoy this scary skull from the back of my friend's motorcycle helmet.

Here's the thing people- if a terrorist wants to get you, he's not going to hide under your bed. He'll blow up the whole building. It's not likely he's not looking for you specifically.

Unless someone I've pissed off comes to get me, and does it ironically. 

The only point of the war on terrorism is so we can live without fear. Giving a  half thought out online "course" about random events isn't helpful. 

Yes, it's good to be vigilant, and yes we should be aware, especially in a foreign country. But don't waste my time telling me to lock my door and then waste paper on a certificate for it. 

We shouldn't go to new places thinking of threats. We should go in search of opportunity. 

"..And the human race is filled with passion!...Poetry, beauty, romance, love!
These are what we stay alive for!

THERE'S NO EXPIRATION DATE ON HURT FEELINGS

Hold on guys, this is a long one, but sometimes you just need to get it all out so you can dream about the endless german beers in your future.

Ahem.

Feelings are like nuclear chemicals. They might have a half-life, however the stronger and more potent they are, the longer they last.

It works that way for both positive and negative feelings. For instance, I very much loved and respected my Grandma Genie. It’s been nearly 20 years since she’s died and yet I still feel very strongly.

Just as I loved my Grandma, I hated Joe. He made fun of me every chance he got in Junior High, and he was malicious. Though I rarely saw him in  high school, I avoided him at all costs. 8 or 9 years ago my mom woke me up at 6am to tell me he’d been killed in Iraq. I sat up in bed, firmly told her GOOD, and went back to sleep. As my dreams took over I breathed a sigh of relief and very seriously hoped the death was a long painful one. The time passed, and I've thought about that moment and wondered if I was sorry. So far I haven't been. I do think I was perhaps a little harsh. Death is a permanent thing after all and I'm sure his mom probably loved him, but I would be lying if I didn’t still wish a helluva lot of pain on him.

The closer you are with someone, the more potent feelings can become. Whether it’s a small act of kindness or betrayal, it becomes bigger.

In my parent’s house a lot of feelings were swept under the rug. If something happened nobody talked about it. Nobody apologized.  When that happens, things fester. Sweeping feelings or events under the rug and moving on doesn’t rid someone of them.

The floor is clean, but under the rug it’s a dirty, disgusting mess.

It’s hard to come clean sometimes. It’s hard to acknowledge the dirt on the ground and take responsibility for what’s there. Since I started dating my husband, we’ve had the best relationship out of the absolute refusal to ignore dirt on the ground. Sometimes it’s tough because I’m the one admitting wrongness or being an ass, and I mean it's really hard. It sucks owning up to shit- but it’s good too because it passes. 

Last year an incident happened that made me very upset with a few close friends. I tried to live by my “talk it out” motto I adapted with hubby but I kept feeling guilty and unable to. Even though my feelings were evident, nobody spoke about them. Unfortunately this is the type of stuff that keeps me from falling asleep at night. It makes me angry, and not the pleasant person I feel I generally am. After awhile I grew the balls I knew I had and confronted them, only to be shut down. It happened months ago after all, and therefore was no longer considered relevant. In fact, it was annoying I even brought it up. Apparently hurt feelings have an expiration date. 

What do you do then? Do you just give up and let it go? "Move passed?" I suppose.

Unfortunately nothing is actually solved by doing that. It becomes difficult to be in the same room with somebody and know that there are roaches crawling around in the dirt under a rug without getting the heebie jeebies. Eventually the roaches will all die, everything will decompose as things do, but in the mean time it just sits there slowly rotting away. Now that's a fun image. An even more fun feeling. Personally, I'd like to be filled with sunshine and rainbow farts.

With the move to Germany coming up, it would have been easy to leave the country and forget about everything and lose our friendships. It was tough to confront them about the roaches, but having talked about it, we were able to sweep every piece of dirt and disgusting bug away. There was almost an instant feeling of relief.

Though we often  say “forgive and let live” I think we really mean “I don’t want to deal with it.” 

I don’t know about anybody else, but my new years resolution this year hasn’t been about losing weight or bettering my outside. It’s been about bettering my insides (I've got a crap ton of work to do and I'll be the first to admit it). 

While I've been better at owning up to my husband, this year I'm going to work on admitting when I'm wrong, not letting things fester, and being a lot more vocal when my own feelings are hurt. Probably a bigger task then I'm ready to take on, but baby steps people. Baby steps. 

LEARNING GERMAN IS WEIRD

So it's 2am and I've been working on my portfolio and I thought I'd take a break and have some fun.

Since we're moving to Deutschland, I've been learning German. I pick up language pretty fast, but that doesn't mean it's not confusing.

When I first lived in Germany my Germany room mate told me a story. He said when he was learning English he went to NYC. They went out to dinner, and he ordered a steak. I don't know what he said in German, but what he said in English was 'I would like to become a steak."

I had a similar experience out there. I remember coming home and being very excited because I had ordered a turkey sandwich in German and Lo and Behold! I got it!

When I repeated what I had said to my room mate he laughed and laughed.

Apparently I said "I have the breasts of a turkey." Which would explain a lot.

Here's a few things I'm learning.

Meine Familie hat hunger

Direct Translation: My family has hunger

Actual Translation: My family is hungry


Sehen sie es?

Direct translation: See they it?

Actual Translation: Do they see it?



Es geht uns gut

Direction Translation: It go us good

Direct Translation 2: It goes good with us

Actual Translation: We are fine



Ich verstehe nur Bahnof

Direct Translation: I understand only train station

Actual Translation: It's as clear as mud to me.

WHAT GRINDS MY GEARS

I'm a little uhhhhhh about posting this because I feel like a lot of wives are going to disagree and I'm going to get yelled at. But I also think I'm right. So there. If I'm wrong, well thought out arguments are welcome.

Lately I've been reading a lot of posts on the Army Wife 101 FB page concerning getting "chaptered out" - Military for getting discharged from the military before your time- for not meeting health/weight requirements. Out of curiosity I read hundreds of comments, and found the attitudes of the wives were extremely disturbing. It didn't matter if it was their husband or someone else's- what was happening was terrible and horribly wrong.

In lieu of sounding like an asshole:

BOO HOO.

What partially bothers me are the wives who say that they're husband's are "suddenly" getting booted,  or are upset that this type of thing is happening at all. One wife is half way through their stay in Germany, and her husband was given until mid march to get back into shape. When I saw this post it was the beginning of January, and they had already given up and decided to get chaptered. That was quite the slap in the face. It's an amazing opportunity to live in another country, and also too expensive for the military to just send someone for half the time.

Here's what really happens when you don't make weight:

You get in trouble.
You get a counseling session.
You are given an end date of which you need to be in shape by which is MONTHS later.
In between there are more counseling sessions, check ins, and mandatory physical training.
Doctor visits and prescriptions are pretty much free. If it's medical, there isn't a problem sorting it out.

So to say this is all so sudden and happening too fast to fix is crap.

The other reason this whole thing boggles my mind is that, when you sign up for the military, you sign up knowing that being in shape is part of your job. Just like when I took a job in advertising, I knew even as I got promoted I would continually work insane hours, I would constantly have to perform well under stress, and that if I sucked I wouldn't be employed. As a member of the military to let yourself get out of shape, and to be surprised when you are threatened to be kicked it, is to live in denial.

I can say all this because I've experienced this first hand.

A lot of the wives complain that their husband is "just husky" and it's easy for them to not pass weight. This is true because the doctors take a look at your height on a chart and match it up with whatever weight you should be at. My husband is one of those guys.  When he entered the army, he was at first deemed over weight- ludicrous because his waist was only slightly bigger than mine, he just had a lot of muscle.

What they do next is something called taping. They find out how much body fat you actually have, and finding out he was under 10% body fat, he passed with flying colors and moved on. The moral of the story: even if you don't make weight, nobody is kicked out if their BMI is under 25 (25-29.9 is overweight, 30+ is obese).

After Hub's original test he started flight school. They wake up at ungodly hours of the morning, come home after a 12 hour day, and study more. There were days we barely spoke because he was so busy. The only thing he did besides study and sleep, were the minutes he spoke to me. He didn't worry about working out or eating healthy, just doing well in school. The consequences for his, and many of the guy's actions, were losing muscle, gaining weight, and failing a PT test.

When it happened I was livid. I called my mom and cried. For most of you this seems kind of stupid, but for us, it was a big deal.

For him, if he failed again he was booted from the army. He had mandatory PT in the morning and had to work out on his own at night. During this time, he was out of class and it set him back starting to learn his aircraft.

For me, it was complete betrayal.  I was already having a hard time not just quitting Leo Burnett to be an Army Wife, and giving up my entire career I had worked so hard for. And I worked hard- because in advertising it's not just a job. It's your culture, family, friends, and your life.

While I was working to excel at every aspect of my job in Chicago, he was giving part of his a back seat. I though, why should I give up my dream job for someone who had their dream job and wasn't doing all he could to be the best? It was perhaps a little over dramatic, especially since I know he studied very hard, but I was upset none-the-less.

In the end it only took him three weeks to pass the test. They didn't "just" threaten to kick him out. They gave him 6 months to get into gear, mandatory morning physical fitness, and afternoons off to insure him time to work out a second time on his own. During all this he chucked the beer in the house, and used his free time to go grocery shopping and cook healthy meals.

They gave him, just as they give everybody in the military, and opportunity to fail or succeed. Like any job, task, or dream you have, it all depends on just how bad you want it. And if you don't want it, then see-ya - but please leave quietly and don't complain about the system.

Although I'm not really a patriot, I do support the people of the military. They sacrifice a lot to protect us, but they also are given a lot of amenities most people don't have- free health care, housing, pensions- and there is no reason they should not be held to the same standards at their job that I am at mine.

Make Your Own Jewelry Box

Since moving to Fort Rucker, Hubby has gotten into anything that gets and keeps him in the garage. He might have done it to originally get away from the cat, and continued to do it to get away from me. BUT HAHA I HAVE TRICKED HIM! Instead I started making him help me with projects. 

For xmas I decided to it would be more fun and personal to make my hippie sister a jewelry box since she doesn't have one. 

I went to Michael's where they have already make wood boxes and other things like below. 

After I made hubs take off all the hardware, we decided to test the stains we plan on using for a dresser we've been working on forever that refuses to get done- cherry red and an ebony. 

First we taped the wood on top that we would later stain ebony and put down the cherry stain

Then we mixed a tint and a poly together in an empty sour cream cup

Applied the mixture on top of the stain with a sponge brush.
After it dried we removed and ret taped, then did the ebony.

Here's before and after tinting. 

I helped a little but most of the time I was "management" which was just as fun. 

You could also paint it as well. Painting would probably be faster because the process of sanding, staining, poly-ing the whole thing took over a week, where as you could do this all in one day with paint. 

We picked up some red sparkle felt with I thought a hippie would like but was sort of classy and would match with the cherry red and ebony. 

When all was said and done I wrote a little note on the inside with gold paint. 

Also from Michael's/Mecca, I picked up these flowers which, after practicing an arrangement, I used 3,000lb epoxy to glue them down. They ain't goin' no wheres. 

We realized later that we tinted the red too much and you couldn't tell much of a difference between that and the ebony... but now we know. 

When I called on Christmas she was so excited and really loved it- and it made me feel pretty great to make something with my hands, to to boss my husband around and have him enjoy it. 

BEER IN REVIEW

This year we spend NYE at home because we just got back from our honeymoon. After spending all that cash and running around for 10 days it was time to relax- but I still wanted it to be fun/a LITTLE bit special since it's our first married new years and we still live in LA LA land. 

Anyway, I picked up 6 beers that reminded me of different things we did all year and we did a "Tasting" - they aren't the best of beers, but they were (sort of) tied to our year! He really enjoyed it as I revealed each new beer, and I think it's something we'll start doing every year and I'll get on it in advance rather than having the idea at the grocery store.

REDHOOK ESB- We started off the new year moving hubby from his home town in Seattle to Fort Rucker, where he'd be starting training to be a helicopter pilot. 

LANDSHARK LAGER- In springtime he proposed by reenacting our first day and taking me beer tasting. I couldn't find any of the beers we tried, but this is what we drank on the beach of our hotel after!

SUNSET WHEAT- Several months after the proposal, I moved down to Alabama from Chicago to get married. It was incredible difficult for me to leave Chicago, and though this isn't a Chicago beer it was close enough!

RED FARMHOUSE ALE- At our wedding in Pensacola, our friends brought us hubby's favorite area beer McGuire's Red. Since that wasn't available I grabbed this red. Felt like a bad decision because we drank it while playing the Planet Earth drinking game and I had to chug the whole thing. Blech. 

LONGBOARD ISLAND LAGER- We finished off the year on our honeymoon on the island of Curacao, where I over indulged in drinking Amstel Bright (tastes kind of like corona). Since that's pretty impossible to find, we celebrated with an "island" beer!

BECKS- Since we recently found out we'll be moving to Germany for three years this spring, this beer was about looking forward, rather than looking back. I have fond memories from living in Hamburg, Germany yelling to the bartender over the music DREI BECKS BITTE!!!! 

Old Stormy Ginger Fizz

Since we still have some unused champagne and lots of mint leaves left over from last night, here's what we are drinking this NYD NOW! We didn't have a lot of the ingredients so this is how we substituted

.

WHAT GOES IN IT

1 Tsp Fresh shaved ginger (Substitute 1oz Ginger Ale)
1 lime quartered
5-7 mint leaves
1 oz simple syrup
1 1/2 oz light rum (we were out so we used Spiced)
Top off with Champagne

HOW TO MAKE IT:

Put everything in except for champagne and shake vigorously (you're supposed to muddle it, but we don't have a muddler) and top with champagne.

Left Over Champagne NY Day Beverage

After drinking bottles of Champagne, it's probably the last thing you want to drink this morning. BUT HAIR OF THE DOG MY PEOPLE! Quit your whining buck up and don't waste those un-drunk bottles of champagne. Instead, wake up, lay on the couch, and drink this-

CHAMPAGNE JULEP

WHAT GOES IN IT:
5-7 mint leaves
1/2 Oz simple syrup
1 1/2 - 2oz Bourbon
Champagne (Preferable dry)

HOW TO MAKE IT:
Muddle mint leaves in simple syrup
Add bourbon and fill glass with crushed ice.
Top with Champagne and stir

Me. My cat. TV. Booze. Perfect hair of the dog. 

A DRINKING CLUB WITH A RUNNING PROBLEM: FINDING FRIENDS PART 2

On the Army Wife 101 facebook page, wives often discuss how they aren't making friends. It can be hard, I know, but luckily I know the right place to go, no matter where I am. It's also been my saving grace moving to Fort Rucker when I married my Army hubby and working in Birmingham during the week. Step in, The Hash House Harriers.

If you are a military wife and you want to meet other people in the area, puhlease, go to at least three of these. I guarantee even if you don't like it, you WILL make AH friend.

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In Finding Friends Part 1, I discussed how to tell whether a person has your humor by utilizing fart noises. Here's something better- join a drinking club with a running problem. They will laugh at your fart noises every time.

But let's backtrack.

If you move around, travel for work or pleasure, and aren't a stick in the mud, then you absolutely must seek this group out.

THE JIST:

An international group in most cities and every military base (yes even around the world. My husband starting going to his in Russia, and I know several people who started in Korea). You pay a cheap sum of money, usually 5-10$, for a decent if not excessive quantity of alcohol and a good time. If you don't want to drink (or drink much) you don't have to, but I certainly don't see why not.

The "Hares" or trail leaders, lay a trail by making marks with flour, which the pack of runners decipher, follow, and inevitabley leads to beer or other goodies.

Here's Wiki if you really need it. 

BN= Beer Near
T/E = Turkey Eagle Split. Turkey is an easier trail, Eagle is for the bad asses
--l-l-l-->  = True Trail, you're right on
YBF = You've been F*cked. We led you down a wrong path
O = the trail can go in 369 degrees, etc.

There are stops along the way where everyone gathers for a drink, and then you continue on until you reach the end of the trail which has more beer.

I know it sounds hard involving running and beer, but if people are doing it
while they're drinking how difficult can it really be. 

THE PERKS (BESIDES BEER)
Going to a hash is a break from life. It's an opportunity to let loose, meet interesting people and have a good time.

It's a great way to learn a new city, or find places in an old city you never knew about. Each trail is led by a different hasher, and following them- or making your own trail, can lead to amazing discoveries.

After living in Seattle for a year, I had no idea this park, and amazing view, was
only blocks away from my apartment until I hared my first trail. 

It's also a fantastic way to find new activities and bars- besides yelp. There's always an "On-After" and often it's at a different place, since you're always in a new area of town.

  

This gathering happens the first Tuesday of
the month outside The Plaza Bar

Hashing on a Tues. With the Vulcan
H3 in Birmingham  we can across these

                      

Boys can wear dresses without shame. There's several charity runs, like the Red Dress  Run (The New Orleans Red Dress draws around 10k annually), the Green Dress, etc, where all the profits go to charity. And what's funnier than a bunch of dudes running around the city in a dress? Tip: Ladies, if you meet a guy comfortable enough to do this, you should snatch him up. Confidence is a great feature in a dude. 

Seattle Red Dress Run 2011 Front Runners

Also, it's kind of exercise.

A Chicago Thristday Hash Trai. 3 Miles, 3 Beer stops. 

Some people walk, some people run, some people jog. The trails vary in length, but it's as much of a "work out" as you want it. Or don't, whatever. Because we're in it for beers and camaraderie dirty jokes and even dirtier songs. 

Did I mention guys get to wear kilts? We love kilts. 

THE PEOPLE

Holy cow the people. They are from every walk of life you can imagine. Rich, poor, cell phone fixers, doctors, advertisers, therapists, cooks, bamboo fence and furniture builders, military etc. People have a zillion different interests from brewing to cycling to gaming to you name it. 

Everyone is there to let loose. You know, no matter what hash you go to, they are there for a good time, friendship, and will always help you out. If you make fart noises when someone bends over, they will likely laugh.

On that note, you can't be easily offended. If you are, this isn't the place for you (Hence saying you need to be "FUN" above.) And there is a lot of offensive, but funny stuff.

We are jokers. These are things we tell each other often. 

The network is amazing. If you're traveling, odds are one hasher will know another in that city, if not a non hasher who will hook you up with crash space. And if you don't need it, they will be your tour guides. 

INSTANT FRIENDS. I have no idea why there aren't more military wives that do this. There's always a hash around military bases. It's amazing.

When I moved to Seattle I only knew my Dad's friend/old boss and his wife. They sent me to a hash trail, and I made my first and best friends in Seattle (not to mention it's where I met my husband).

When I moved to Chicago, the hashers instantly set me up. I was invited to parties and happy hour, for runs and other activities. Then came Fort Rucker and Birmingham, and I'm sure by now you get the point.

And of course, the very first thing I did when I found out I was going to Fort Bliss was look up the Hash there- the Border Jumpers. 

After a year in Seattle, all of these people through me a goodbye party. They are all hashers. 

QUICK TERMINOLOGY

Hare: Trail leader

Hounds/Pack: The runners

Kennel: The "group" or club" for instance, Seattle has several Kennels- The Seattle Hash House Harriers, Rain City (only hashes the last sunday of every month, usually out of the city), No Balls (The all-girls, once monthly hash) etc. And each one has their own logo, patches, and "mis management"

Shiggy: Going off trail, or off side walk. My favorite trails and shiggyfilled. Unfortunately it depends on the Kennel you are at, because downtown Chicago you're not likely to find a lot of that. However, the more creative the Hare, the more likely you'll have something interesting. I've had "shiggy" that went under bushes and had people climbing over walls.

You don't wear new shoes for 2 reasons:
1) Shiggy. I have gone up rivers, through mud, forests, floated rivers, and mountains. It's awesome.
 2) By wearing a new shoe you are in violation and must drink your beer. 

ON-ON!- You'll hear this screamed from all directions on trail. It means they have found the correct trail (maybe)

Racist: No, you don't wear white pointy hats. If you're a racist, that means you like running, and probably run outside the hash. I'm a racist because I enjoy being FRB or FBI (Front Running Bastard/First Bimbo In) and thus race in the hash, run regularly and do races. You might be accused of racism and have to drink if you wear racist attire, such as a 5k shirt.

Nerd Name: Your real name is your nerd name. Because the group was originally founded by British Marines and there is a rule where enlisted cannot fraternize with officers, everyone gets nick names. After you've been hashing and done something stupid/funny, the group circles up and gives you a new name.

The naming of Aquaharious, a Vulcan Hasher.
You can ask her why she was named that.

Here I am "Christening" her with her hash name. 

                         

IN CLOSING- I don't know why more military wives don't do this. Aside from the kids, and the husband getting deployed and that being possible "bad news" if you can't control yourself, and being easily offended and all. Whatever, if you can get crazy wasted and the marine corp ball and dance on a table, then you can hash.