Pre-Birthday Ball Pictures.

The shoes add quite a bit of glamour, right?

Just another day.

TS Malou.

As though this week was not enough with the "Category 3" Typhoon Kompasu, me getting an awful flu bug, auditors at work and Matt leaving again for a few weeks, my Saturday has to be interrupted by a Tropical Storm that is apparently directly over the island but causing no more than a little sprinkle.

How's that for a run-on sentence?

I think I'm going to the commissary, anyway.

If I Still Had Facebook...

My status update would be this:

"is sick of people asking when she's going to have babies."

Dress-Up.

This is the dress I am going to be rockin' this November for what will likely be our last Marine Corps Ball.  I am also going to be wearing sky high heels and getting my hair done.  You can bet I'll be posting pictures.

T is for Track Star.

If you know me (and I'm assuming you all do, because who else would read this?), you know two things:  I am diabetic and I hate the military healthcare system.  Don't get me wrong, I am so thankful to have healthcare and to get my insulin needs fulfilled, but when it comes to the Navy docs I've dealt with, well, they leave a great something to be desired (like maybe getting my prescriptions right or being knowledgeable about my condition).

That brings us to a few days before our vacation when I went to the Air Force clinic to get syringes, because the Navy WAS OUT AGAIN.  Fed up to here *points way above head*, I asked how I could transfer to the Air Force clinic, followed my instructions and when we returned from vacation, I had a letter telling me to see a new doctor....  I was relieved, but anxious it'd be more of the same.

When I finally got in to see my new doctor, I was blown away.  Matt came with me to help bust heads if needed.  He was not needed (but I was glad he was there).

My new doctor was amazing.  He knew stuff about diabetes.  He suggested a different insulin schedule to bring down my HbA1C.  I was on board!  I was so super-pumped.

Then.  Then he suggested the unthinkable (for me).  Thirty minutes of cardio five days a week.  Thirty miutes of RUNNING five days a week.  And Matt heard it all, so I couldn't just pretend it didn't happen.

Disgusting.  Awful.  Miserable.

I am not a runner.  I have no desire to be a runner.  People who run marathons baffle me.

But now, I am slowly pacing myself to become a runner.  I started off walking five minutes and running one minute for a half hour.  Now I am up to 4 minutes of walking with 3 minutes of running.

And I hate it.  I hate running.  It sucks.  I do not feel better when I an done running.  I do not feel bad when I miss a day.  It sucks.  And I'm not even actually RUNNING.  I'm walking most of the time and jogging because Matt insists I'll wear myself out if I actually run.

Maybe it will be better when its not so stinkin' hot here, but I just don't know.  I'm sticking with it for now for my health.  But I am letting everyone know that I hate it.

Vacation, Part 4: D.C. and West Point.

Okay, okay...  I know.  I never finish things.  I promise to be better about that.  And I'll finish the alphabet I left off on over a year ago.  But really this time.

So, after a lovely sunny stay in Florida, Matt and I flew to D.C. to see his very pregnant sister, brother-in-law and nephew.  We got to see their beautiful new house for the first time and taste tested several flavors of Wegman's Ice Cream.  Carrie is the ultimate hostess and I always love staying with them. 

After our brief stay in D.C., Matt and I took Carrie's car and drove through five states to be at Andrew's graduation from West Point Military Academy.  How flippin' cool is that?  The commencement speaker was ...  President Barack Obama!  Pretty neat.  Super-pretty neat.

If you squint really hard you can see itty-bitty President Obama with his hand on his heart.  --->

Now, let me just state for the record, that, despite my disgust towards Glenn Beck and the fact I can barely wait Fox News without screaming, I am a conservative Republican, through and through.  But hearing Marine One fly by, watching the caravan drive into the stadium and seeing the leader of the free world walk out was pretty doggone exciting.  I got chills.  Gosh, I love America.

Also, let me tell you first:  I paid attention to the President's speech.  I really, really did.  But, for me, it was not as interesting as the fact that I had just told my mother-in-law about photo-bombing, and she thought it was a hysterical concept.  We took turns photo-bombing each other and other people.  It was pretty awesome.  But we were paying attention.  Most unfortunately, all of those fun photos are on her camera.  I got this one, though:

<---Sorry ladies, he's all mine.

After the ceremonies and sufficient family time, we hopped back in the car to drive back to D.C. to catch our last domestic flight - back to Travis AFB.

Vacation, Part 1: Getting There.

Well, due to a tiny hiccup in the government in Kyrgystan, Matt's return home was delayed about a week. Which was lame because: A.) It had already been 8 months, for Pete's sake, B.) We had tickets to fly to the US on vacation four days after his actual return date. Four days is apparently not enough time to tell Marines, "Hey, we've got resources to help you, don't be stupid." Because of the extended transition time, we had to cancel our tickets and Travelocity basically put us out $3800. (That is a story for another time, but needless to say, Travelocity is now on THE LIST, along with Best Buy.)

We needed another cheap way to get back to the States. Enter: the Secret Society of the AMC Flights. Pretty much everyone in the Military community knows about AMC Flights. Ask anyone exactly how they work and maybe one in one hundred can tell you. Basically, when there is a training flight or a flight taking equipment somewhere and that flight has some extra space, military members and their families can hop on for either really cheap ($30ish) or free. This was to be our vacation savior.

There is a lot of waiting for spots on flights in your desired general direction, lots of layovers and lots and lots of uncertainty. But there is also lots and lots and lots of Free Flight-ness. Which, I guess makes up for it.

The first leg of our trip back home was a commercial charter from Okinawa to Iwakuni to Yokota Air Base. We had to arrive at the Kadena Air Mobility Command (AMC, get used to the acronym, you'll read it a lot in the upcoming posts) at something like 4 in the morning. And then we had to wait a few hours to find out if we were able to get on the flight. Then we had to wait a few hours to get on the flight.

When we got on the plane, we noticed that the seats in the middle of the plane were cordoned off with caution tape. We knew we were in for an exciting vacation. Apparently, the plane cleaners had opened the emergency exit over the wings and now those doors were inoperative. Awesome. Equally awesome? When the plane took such a deep dip, less like turbulence and more like Chester fell asleep at the wheel, that the oxygen masks several rows in front of us came down. Waaay awesome.

Fortunately for us, the rest of our travels were significantly safer. We spent the night at the amazing lodge at Yokota (full sized fridge, dish washer, etc for $41), flew to Elmendorf AFB the next morning, got to see the midnight sun in Alaska, then got to Travis AFB by 6am Sunday morning. Which we learned was not a good time to get a ride to the airport in California.

We spent the day sleeping and exploring the base on foot. Pizza Hut for dinner, sleep by 9, then shuttled off to the airport to catch our flight early the next morning. When we finally got to Tucson, I was happy to see my in-laws, happy to not be waiting for flights and happy to finally be home again. Gotta love the military lifestyle.

Buenos Aires.

And now the post you've all been waiting for - Mid-Deployment Leave! WHAT UP! (Yeah, I've been watching too much How I Met Your Mother. I love you, Barney Stinson).

Well, this vacation started out in the worst possible way: with an e-mail from Orbitz telling me that the longest flight of my incredibly long trip was canceled. After over an hour on the phone and many tearful explanations, I was rerouted and an extra connecting flight was thrown in there. I ended up getting there closer to when Matt got there than had been planned. Be still and know.

We spent our first week in the Recoleta area of BsAs at the Park Plaza Unique Hotel. We ate steak. Lots of steak. On one of our first days we took a short bus tour that gave us ideas for the sight seeing we did. We went to the Museo de Belles Artes, featuring both international artists and Argentine artists. We spent some time at the Recoleta Cemetery, where Eva Peron is buried. We spent a heck of a lot of time talking about food and looking for places to eat and eating. On Saturday we went to the art fair and bought our first piece of artwork from Don Roberto Solima.


[Click here for more pictures that I am too lazy to re-upload]

Our second week we stayed at a fantastic Bed & Breakfast in another part of Buenos Aires (I don't remember which part because I have been home for so long - I know I should have made this post right she I got home). We spent a lot of time watching movies (Sherlock Holmes, Valentines Day and Avatar) and a lot of time window shopping and probably should have spent more time sight seeing. We're such home bodies, even on vacation we just want to chillax and not do anything.

We had an amazing time; it was so great to be together again. Knowing he'll be home soon was a good feeling too. Keep his group in your prayers big time and I'll let you know when he's home safely.

Matt's Address

If you would like Matt's address, please e-mail me at: never.dexter@gmail.com and I will get it to you. I'm sure he'd appreciate any mail you want to send him.

O is for OPSEC.

OPSEC stands for Operational Security (love those military acronyms, right?). It's a pretty important concept, as any AFN commercial will tell you. Abiding by OPSEC means being careful about what things you post on the internet - blogs, Facebook, MySpace, wherever. "The Bad Guys" can take the little pieces of information that you post innocently enough and put it together to form a bigger picture of what is going on.

Say a spouse, we'll call her Mrs. C. Puller, posts on her blog that her husband, Gunny Puller is coming home from Iraq next week. Maybe previously she had posted an address so all her hubby's fans could send him care packages. Maybe she had put on her site that she was a "Proud Xth Marines, XX Battalion WIFE!" Well, we can piece together that there is going to be some changes in Iraq, with Xth Marines, XX Battalion. We know where they are located. And I'm sure other details that the loose lips of Mrs. Puller let go.

OPSEC is why I'll never mention where Matty is going, when he's going, when he's coming back, none of it. We can never be to careful about what we write and where we write it. You can't control who sees what you put on the internet and all the little pieces you and your friends post can come together to form a big picture.

Keep my husband safe, don't spread the word. If you want to know whats up with Matt, e-mail me personally and I will respond personally.

L is for Loneliness.

Very early Monday morning, Matty left for training. This leaves me on my own for the next month, punctuated by a brief reunion and then nine long months of "strength training." I suppose this month is like a preview, allowing me to see what it will all be like, finding out who I will be leaning on, boosting my self-confidence in alone time. Letting me know, nine months is no problem. And it's not just nine months. It's a few months and then a trip home and then a few more months and a trip to - be still my beating heart! - Paris (or Spain, but since I'm the one doing the planning and making the reservations, I think we all know it will be a trip to Paris).

At this point, I'm not anxious. It's still pretty much life as usual. I'm still processing that this isn't just a week in the field, or two or three. This is it. This is deployment.

American Idol.

I didn't even watch the final performances last night. And tonight... well, I don't know that I can get away with watching for David Cook two anniversaries in a row. Fortunately for me, my Season 8 counterpart is watching and let me know David performs 15 minutes into the show. SCORE!

Friday is our pre-deployment brief. And Sunday is the start of training. I really need to get some hobbies. Any suggestions?

K is for Kitanakagusuku.

Try to say it. I dare you. Ki-ta-na-ka-gu-su-ku. Say it fast. Say it over and over. Ki-ta-na-ka-gu-su-ku. Ki-ta-na-ka-gu-su-ku. Ki-ta-na-ka-gu-su-ku.

Because of the large number of Westerners on Okinawa, there are actually a lot of signs written in Roman characters. A lot of the city names are written out so we can (attempt to) say them. Kitanakagusuku was the first one I remember really having a problem with. I just couldn't get it out right. I didn't think I'd ever get it out right. And I didn't ever think I'd feel at ease and happy here in Okinawa.

Quite fortunately, I was wrong. I am feeling more and more comfortable in my foreign home at a time when the person who makes me most comfortable is leaving. We will have a few weeks together this summer (one in Thailand!), but after that he's going to nine long months in a place far, far from me. At least there's a mall down in Kitanakgusuku where I can indulge in some retail therapy.

C is for Corps Devotion.

Never in a million years did I think I’d end up married to a man in the military. And never ever in a million more years did I think I’d end up married to a Marine. Never ever, ever.

So, with His great sense of humor, that is exactly what God allowed to happen. Of course, I always let it be known that I did not marry a Marine. I married the man of my dreams, my college sweetheart, who then became a Marine. After we were married. Only seven months after we were married, but afterwards nonetheless.

With all that said, I am extremely proud of my husband. Of how hard he has worked and how much he loves his job. I am proud to be the one who stands beside him and the one who takes care of him. To be the one he took with him to Japan. To be the one who will soon start receiving letters from far away. Even though this is not exactly the life I had planned, I’m honored and gladdened that it’s the life I have. I wouldn’t trade this devotion to “The Corps” for anything the civilian life has to offer.

Valentine's Day.

We went up to Nago for Valentines Day and stayed at the fancy pants Mariott... Woohoo... Probably my favorite part (well maybe not) was not having to take my ID out every five seconds for every single thing. That was awesome. I also got a lovely pair of Roxy sandals to replace the ones I got last spring that have been falling apart pretty much since I got them. They were not Roxy.

Since we got home, we have been preparing the house for the arrival of our first guests. Mom and Dad-in-law are visiting for a week starting Saturday. The house is nearly cleaned, a daily agenda has been formulated and a grocery list is in the works. I have about seven different lists pertaining to this visit. Lists keep me sane.

Also, my boss is an idiot and I'm not afraid to say it on the world wide web. You DO NOT tell someone "Well, I said I liked you, its just every other Officer's wife that is a horrible person." Uh-uh. Try not being so stupid once in a while. I told her I'd met some crappy E-wives, but never let that influence how I felt about new wives I've met. Every person is a new beginning and every person is different, regardless of their education level, socioeconomic status and ESPECIALLY who their husband is. Okay, I'm off my soap box.

Off to the 100 Yen store and Starbucks.

Holidays!

In lieu of a holiday party, Matt's CG decided to throw a lovely Oktoberfest themed party. The food was great, the music was great, and Stacee was there so I had someone to chat with. We even got our picture taken with the guy in lederhosen. Overall a successful Oktoberfest.



Thanksgiving dinner will be far smaller than first anticipated. We are expecting a total of seven or eight (including ourselves!). I did most of my shopping today to ensure procurement of all of the Thanksgivingest foods. I also have some other good news that I am going to hold off on until I can make a couple more phone calls.

My First Coffee.

In The Basic School, we spouses are scared straight with a little pamphlet known as The Parade Rest Book. It is handed out to the new Officer’s wives as a resource on the etiquette expected of us, often with the terrifyingly deficient caveat: “Some of the stuff in here is really outdated.” Thanks.

Coffees are a part of Officer’s spouse culture, and up until last night, I had avoided these “networking” functions. You all know that the mere thought of schmoozing makes me feel terribly nauseated. Spending two to three hours with wives I’ve never met? Doesn’t sound like a good time to me, even without the advice I received during TBS. “Dress appropriately -- only wear dress slacks as a last resort!” “Whatever you do, DO NOT arrive early!” Hostess gifts, calling cards, proper conversation… It’s enough to make your head spin.

Last night was my first coffee and lucky for me, I didn’t have to go alone. Another wife from across the street carpooled with me and we were both able to avoid any of those awkward standing alone moments. I was able to introduce her to a few women I’ve met and we got to know one another a little better.

In the end, all of the anxiety was unwarranted. I met a new friend and learned a little about the options available to wives here. Painless, for the most part.

Why We Write in Pencil.

Last summer, I was reintroduced to the joy and wonder of the Day Planner. Even my empty schedule seemed exciting with "Coffee with Em - 11.30" or "Start new bottle of Insulin" written in bright colors with various friendly animal stickers decorating the days. I stopped dreading the days highlighted with "Field Exercise," when those days also said, "Meet Erin for Panera Bread" or "Molly+Tea Doggie Play Date."

Days are a little less exciting now that The Big Move looms ever closer. "Coffee!" has all but been replaced with "Overseas Screening!" and "Play Date" with "Dentist - 5 fillings". Furthermore, I have learned the importance (to a military wife) of writing key events in pencil. That big day in late May that once said "Flight to Oki," has been rewritten to read "Matt flies to Oki." Two weeks later, you'll find the entry, "Andrea and Molly fly to Oki."

Yeah, I couldn't believe it either. I thought we were doing this together! I thought this was a family event! What happens when my iPod dies on the eight hour flight? I can't very well grab the iPod of the stranger sitting next to me, can I? And what about Molly? She needs her daddy to tell her everything will be all right. So does her Mom.

I guess this is where I need to remember that God's got it all together. He works all things for the good of those who love Him. He has a plan for good, to give me a future and hope. I'm holding on to those promises as tightly as possible.

Stuff + Me + Matt + Molly + Okinawa = :D (?)

A million things in this back story: When we left Quantico in January, we had nearly everything we owned sorted into 2 piles (To Okinawa! and 3 Years of Storage!), or trashed/given away or, and this was the smallest pile, moving with us to Virginia Beach. We scored a sweet furnished beach house and really only brought our clothes with us. I knew I would miss my stuff, but the thought of packing it up to move four hours south for only four months was just ridiculous. I knew we had a really big move coming up so I tried not to be worried about it.

When we arrived to our beach house, I was sorely disappointed. I knew, having lived in a summer house before, not to expect much in the way of amenities, but really? A turn dial microwave? Whisks made for little people? Only three coffee mugs? I'd go through those in a day! I suppose the amazing view of the Atlantic Ocean more than made up for these shortcomings, but still.

As I made do with the seven tank tops and three pairs of jeans I'd brought to Virginia Beach, I couldn't help but yearn for the various tee shirts, shorts and sweaters packed in boxes marked "Lady Clothes" sitting idly at Fort Belvoir. Little did I know how "for the best" this situation was.

Once Matt finally got in touch with TMO (Government moving sevices... don't ask me what the letters actually mean), we learned that everything that was in storage could be sent AHEAD of us to Okinawa. And it would arrive two full weeks before we did. If that's not a major blessing, I know know what is. Sidenote to our beloved pillowtop bed: We miss you in a way words cannot explain. I can't wait to see you in June!!