Days Away

The past few weeks have been a blur. I was at the beach twice and went to Phili.

I joined a soft-ball team. This is the worst soft-ball team every created. Our first game, first hitter (batter I think is the correct term - you can see where we are with this) slid into first base. But not really. In reality, she face planted half way to first. Hilarious. We have a foreign girl on our team who had never heard of base-ball. She made it to first, but didn't know she had to run to second. Apparently you get two outs from having two people on first. Who knew. As an outfielder I spent a large amount of time begging strange men passing in the park to throw the ball in for me. This leads us to our 1-22 score. Sweet.

Yesterday I had to take my cat to the vet because he was pooping blood. The vet fixed his behind, but something is wrong with his personality now. My soft baby kitty is now a ferocious beast. I could not dislodge him from his cage at the vet. I almost lost a hand. We finally captured him in a small box and the vet laughing gassed him. No one laughed. The dead-weight cat was moved to his crate. He is now fine.

Last night was the Dave Matthews Band concert, which, after the monsoon, rocked. We met a sailor named Daniel. He shared our blanket. He has deployed to Miami. Thank goodness, someone has got to keep the whores in line. That is not a deployment I told him; That is a vacation. He was insulted. I am officially an Army wife.

I slept over at my girlfriends house who lives closer to the concert and closer to work. This morning I clogged her toilet. I ran around her house searching for a plunger. Luckily, I perfected my plunging skills a few weeks ago when I tossed a wod of paper towels in my toilet at home. Not good. Joe of course called while I was frantically searching for a plunger. I am exhausted. I did not drop the phone in the toilet and that was good. That would have only improved my day. I was only into my day, so far, 45 minutes.

I have been cleaning for weeks. I grocery shopped for the first time in a while too. I am redefining "perfect" to be more inclusive of the rest of us.

Week 5

I can't believe that Joe will be home in just a handful of weeks. It seems unreal. This past year seems like a dream and I am happy to soon be waking from it.

Week 11

Today is a good day. It is beautiful outside, clear sky and upper 70s. Good weather makes me feel great!

Last night I attended a wine tasting, during which I learned many new things including the fact the Sicily has its very own grape that only grows on that particular island.

Having gone straight from work to the wine-tasting, I was very surprised when a man came up to me and said, "I hear your husband is in Iraq. Does that mean you're wearing that scarf to cover up your hickeys?" I replied, "No, but in eight weeks when my husband gets home I will be wearing scarfs to cover up my hickeys."

Funny as the comment may be, I feel its is fairly telling of the reputation of Army wives. While I have heard many wild allegations regarding Army wives, the stereotype had never before extended to me.

I'm still thinking on this one.

Week 12 (Day 58)

Week 12 has been a good week. There was a fun party with a keg-stand via inversion table (creative).

Today I sent the last box I hope to ever send to Iraq. Swedish fish.

The house is a wreck and I have zero desire to do anything about it; considering hiring a maid.

I have been extremely on edge lately and as Joe puts it "grrr." I am ready for this deployment to be over.

Word has it that Joe will be home a bit early; we are counting 58 days.

Week13

Recently, I went to an antique fair in a very small town called Cameron. It was a hot day walking around all of the dusty things looking for treasures exhausted me. I drank fresh-squeezed lemonade and made small talk with the vendors. The day was pleasant and peaceful until I arrived at one stretch of tables set off to the back of an open lot.

There I found pieces of history that is hard to remember. There were original signs that read "colored only" or "white entrance." having only seen these things in textbooks, being able to look at and touch the real object that expressed the Jim Crow sentiment and caused pain was surreal. It was strange to look at the little cast-iron signs lying on the table and try to comprehend all that it stood for not-so-long ago.

I combed the tables and saw photographs of the klu klux klan, framed no less and hooded figurines. Nearby was another table crowded with glass objects fashioned as derogatory African Americans, painted jet black with oversized ears and lips and wearing head scarves. I think they are called "mammies." Glancing from the signs to the photographs to the mammies, I was overcome with a feeling of nausea. I left.

I continue to reflect on the experience. Should I have bought those things and brought them to a museum? I believe it is very important to know and understand the weight of that period of history, but I wish that it were immobilized in a museum, relegated to few hundred years in history and blocked by glass walls.

I still don't understand the South.

Week 16

Today is another beautiful day. Last night I got home from work and convinced myself that an hour’s nap was appropriate after having gotten up so early that morning. I never work up. I slept 15 hours straight, which is a record even for me.

On Tuesday I had a stalker. The dish network guy who came to fix my dish on Monday (yes I cut the line in half while gardening) called me six times in a two hour period on Tuesday. I think he was drunk. I notified the sheriff’s office since he was really freaking me out and bought mace.

Aside from the dish network stalker, I live in Pleasantville. In my little cul-de-sac we have mostly young military families. We have a new baby and another one on the way. We are outside, playing with each others dogs, taking turns holding the baby and discussing the lawn. Together we hang signs and plant flags to welcome husband’s home from war. The older woman across the street brings cakes over to enjoy. This is how neighborhoods should be.

Week 18

Red-winged blackbirds balanced gracefully on the reeds along the lake. I come down the hill towards the water around the curves faster faster, little engine revving, wind blowing, hip-hop blaring. The car is covered in a fine dust of pollen and filled with many things of the day, paperwork, coffee-cups, used Tupperware and high heels high heels high heels. I hold a mug of hot tea that sloshes about as I bump along. Late late late again. I come to the first red light and hurriedly reach for my mascara. I have just enough time to finish the left eye. The right eye will have to wait.

Week 20 Revisited

Last week I had 7 tons of topsoil dumped in my front yard. Literally, 7 tons. The dump truck got stuck in my front lawn, so the driver and I hung out while we waited for the tow truck to pull him loose. Had the schmuck listened to me and rocked the truck like I told him he would have gotten out, but no. Men.

When the tow-truck driver, aka the boss who I had ordered the dirt from arrived, he laughed. I introduced myself and he said that based on our phone conversation he did not expect me to be holding a shovel. I told him that I called him from work where I were dress slacks and heels and that I spoke to him in my work voice, which is certainly not a shovel holding voice, but now I am at home wearing gym shoes and yes, holding a shovel. How else is the dirt going to get moved and the yard leveled?

After two and a half days of hard labor I succeeded in spreading the dirt around. Several times I filled my wheel-barrel too much and it fell over or the wheel went flat on me. That was very upsetting. Now that it is all done I am very proud of myself.

Week 19

North Carolina is being attacked by pollen. While I am not allergic, the gritty yellow that covers every inch of space and wafts through the air in clouds is uncomfortable. The 90 degree weather mandates open windows, yet the yellow dust prevents it.

The past week and a half has been filled with family and I am always particularly lonely when my house goes silent. First I miss Joe because he is clearly missing when the house is filled and lively. Then I miss Joe because I am alone.

Joe is becoming increasingly frustrated at work and I know that the time is wearing on both of us. The trees exploding in green tell me that the season has come for Joe to return and tugs at my heart, yet I know we have weeks and weeks ahead of us.

In Between

When I first moved in with Joe I was highly invested in my lingerie collection. Pinks and blues, silks and laces. Each was its own romantic piece of art. As it turns out, I didn’t wear them much. I prefer a pair of Joe's boxer briefs and a paint-splattered tank top.

Watching a myriad of sit-coms, Joe has worked himself into an anxious state about what seems like the inevitable lack-luster marriage. I, on the other hand, think that there is something wonderful in the space between the lingerie and the boxer-briefs. It’s peace, consistency, confidence and comfort. In many ways, I think that that space is just as meaningful, if not more, than the space between lips or palms.

I think it’s in that unique space where true love lies, the unending familial-type love that asks nothing in return. Personally, I relish in these moments of peace when I am not worried about my hair or my thighs. Joe worries about eventually loss of lust and connectivity. Ironically, it is in the peaceful space that he has the most of me.

Week 20

Greece was like a dream. Having Joe to myself for two weeks was amazing. We settled back into our old ways and habits quickly and they became familiar again as if nothing had ever separated us. Now, back in the real world, it seems surreal. I long to have my dream-like state back.

I returned home to spring. Warm breezes seem to coax me forward. The air is sweeter and the days are longer.

Sea Sick

Most of the people we have met in Greece are not Greek. This is perplexing, yet allows you to feel as though the many things you have at home that were made in China can somehow now be considered exotic. This is simply to make the point that true and pure cultures are few and far between, that the mish-mash is perhaps just as good if not better, and no matter what it is, it is unlikely made by actual natives of the place you find yourself.

Week 23

Joe is growing a go-tee. This is new for him and me. He arrived in Athens the day before me and made the city real through a study of maps and language. Only Joe could begin to decipher Greek in a matter of hours. While bodies come together in moments, it takes more time for the souls to realign themselves and become in sync. Actual reality, in this case, changes quicker than concepts of reality. I can’t believe its really you.

Week 25

I've been happy lately just going about my day-to-day. I have been sweating it out in hot yoga twice a week and I think it’s improved my mood. Anything is better than 100+ degrees and humid! Lots and lots of work has kept me busy during the days and homework and yoga occupy my nights. A fellow Army-wife once advised me to never go home during a deployment. I thought this was ridiculous and impractical, but these past few weeks I have put her advice into practice and found that the days do fly by - though the messes at home pile up as well.

Joe's car was one of the Toyota's recalled so tonight will be spent at the dealer. I have much homework to complete, so I don’t mind this. This weekend is packed full, visits from cousins, cooking and drinking dates and I must clean the house.

I think I have at long last found peace in my loneliness.

Week 26

Today the sun rose like a big giant blood-orange behind me as I drove to work. It is still cold outside, but the tulips have begin to peek out of the soil.

Last night I arrived home to find that my cat had gotten poop stuck in his fur and succeeded in smearing it all over the floor. Yum.

Week 26 has been good - aside from the cat poop incident. It is officially half way through with deployment. It is Valentine's day and it is just two weeks before I will see Joe for R and R.

Valentine's weekend was a lot of fun. My mom came down to NC to visit me and we went to see the movie Valentine's Day, went outlet shopping and ate steak three days in a row. Joe sent me flowers for the occasion, but the best part was the creative and rhyming poem that came with the beautiful red roses and pink tulips.

I can't wait to see Joe.

Week 27

This morning I was giving a presentation on the numerous services my organization offers. The presentation was to cover the goals, 21 programs and costs all in about 15 minutes. When I speak publicly my Chicago comes out and I can move fairly quickly. While my walking and driving has slowed down greatly since moving to the South, apparently my rate of speech has not.

After a few minutes into my presentation an older gentleman raised his hand and asked in the most pronounced southern drawl I have probably ever heard, "coooouuuuuuld, youuuuuuuu, slooooooooow, dooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwnnnnnnnnnnnnnn."

I was absolutely mortified and I felt terrible. Besides the fact, I knew that if I told him I would slow down I would be a liar because I am physically not capable to talking any slower.

Week 28

The day before yesterday was a great day. I spoke to Joe three times. He surprised me by calling early in the morning when I was leaving for work, he then called at his usual time in the afternoon, and then, after he was woken up in the middle of the night, he called me in the evening. It made me feel as if things were normal. To be able to talk to your spouse multiple times per day is normal.

But it is still hard when the line goes dead and the silence sets in. Hanging up the phone is always hard. For me, it’s like landing in an airport and knowing that no one is there to pick you up. It's lifeless, right when you expect life to be there the most.

Yesterday was a bad day for my husband. His frustration set in and somehow how explains the trouble he experiences is always humorous. War has already become so detached. In the future we see the Facebook Wars: The Battle for the American Soul. Despite the seriousness of the situation we can still amuse ourselves. That is valuable in a relationship that is constantly under the stress of deployment.

Fatty Fatty

Another way that I am turning into my mother is that I now stand in the closet screaming, "I have nothing to wear," while trying to get my pants over my thighs. At least she was thin until she was 50. Here I am at the ripe and round age of 26 finding that all of my new cells jiggle and wondering what in the world I am doing with cellulite.

Food has been pleasure and comfort. It is also inner evil that ridicules for every bite of indulgence. You are disgusting.

I blame America. This certainly has to be the fault of my collective culture and not of my individual behavior. Like everyone, I watch The Biggest Loser while lying on the couch eating ice cream.

I am waiting for the summer. I don’t like to eat in the summer.

January Blues

I am sick and tired of deployment. I feel as though I have reached my end and I am beginning to rot from the inside out.

As much as I hate that I am afraid to be alone at night and can't sleep alone, if I haven't gotten over it in six months I don't know that I ever will. I am ready to feel safe again.

Joe reminded me that he is the one sleeping in a cargo crate. This made me feel worse for him, the same amount of bad for myself, plus guilty.

As a little child and then again as a teenager, when feeling this frustrated, I would kick and scream and break things. I now feel like kicking and screaming and breaking things, however some things have changed. First of all, I am not as ornery as I use to be, secondly anything I could break is mine and thirdly, no amount of kicking and screaming is going to bring my mother into my room to give me what I want.

I feel so angry I don’t want to have anything to do with myself.

Sometimes I feel as if I have reached the end of my rope. Then I realize at the ropes end is just more annoyed and lonely and wishing that the ropes end was synonymous with the deployment's end.
I laugh when I realize that I am turning into my mother. I think "How can I go on like this." She says it dramatically out loud and mostly in reference to another pile of cat vomit on the floor.

It goes.

Week 29

We are now in the 20ies, which is very exciting. In just three weeks we will be half way done with the deployment. While it was 70 degrees and sunny yesterday, today is chilly and raining. The weather is very confusing and I much prefer a January with 70 degrees than 50. I know, I'm spoiled.

My other neighbor is now pregnant, so in a few months we will have two infants on the block. Like my other neighbor with the one-month-old it seems that the pregnant neighbor's husband will also miss much of the pregnancy due to deployment.

Tonight is board orientation and the thought of staying at work until 7:30 tonight makes me tired.

Week 30

Yesterday I woke up to a clump of my hair on the pillow and when I looked in the mirror realized that my kitten decided to give me bangs while I was asleep. I now have a sizeable chunk of hair missing. I look like Alfalfa, except my little one-inch stub of hair sticks up in the front along the middle of my hairline rather than at the crown of my head.

I had a great weekend. My mother-in-law, her sister and best friend came down from Philly to visit me. First, I received an amazing surprise gift from my husband which made me cry. Joe spoils me rotten. As an amateur photographer, my husband has always known that I would love to have a real, professional grade camera and that was my surprise. The rest of the weekend was spent eating, drinking and carrying on.

This morning I stepped out of the house and into a delicious 60 degree morning. The sun on my face felt amazing and has been much missed during the deepest parts of the winter. As I pulled away from my house and waved goodbye to my in-laws, the glimpse of Spring gave me hope. I just might make it after all.

Talk to me

I think I must have a sign on my back that says, "talk to me." I feel as though strangers are always coming up to me and striking very strange conversations. I was in Lowes again looking at thresholds trying to figure out why all of the thresholds were 10 feet long when most doorways are more like three feet wide, when a nice older gentleman offered to help. Sure thing gramps, lemme have it.

Did I get the lecture on thresholds or what? Did you know there are a zillion different types including the T-shape, the triangle, the slope, the overlap, the underlap etc. It's really quite amazing.

Somehow this conversation turns to the man's inability to feel in his left calf. Hmmm. I will listen, but I will most certainly not rub it.

After another 15 minutes of conversation it is revealed that Agent Orange in Vietnam was the culprit. It caused nerve damage, which was somehow related to a hip replacement. The man eventually gave me the moral of the story, "if your husband so much as sneezes, you take him straight to the VA and make them pay him $1,000 a month like they do me for my Agent Orange." Yes sir.

I truly love people.

Sewing 101

My mother-in-law gave me a beautiful sewing machine for Christmas. I eyed it for about a month before I got up the nerve to take it out of the box. This past weekend, I cleared the kitchen table and placed the gleaming white machine in the middle of it. "I have big plans for you Mr. Singer."

I am a fairly crafty person; however the last thing I sewed was a washcloth that my mother gave me to practice on when I was five and even that was not without supervision.

The first project was a success. I altered my shower curtain by adding 8" of maroon material to the bottom in effect creating the world's best shower curtain if such things were based on their length and ability to match my bathroom tile. Straightness of stitches was not included in judging categories.

Well, the first success made me a little over confident and over zealous. "I will now hem dress slacks," I announced while holding my right index finger in the air.

Ha. Easier said than done. Not only is it very difficult to figure out whether or not you folded the legs the same amount (Note: ruler), everything else about the project is difficult as well. The truth is I sewed one leg closed three times before I was finished - fuckaduck (my mother's favorite swear).

Week 31

Sometimes I wish I could leave myself alone. Today, CNN announced that there was a bomb in the town of Hit, Iraq. Rather than leave it alone, I google Hit to determine how far it is from where Joe is stationed and found out that it is just the next town over. Then I missed Joe's call this morning. Deep breathing techniques help.

In other news, my chiropractor is very good-looking.