After the Pause

As you can see, I recently took a nice long hiatus from blogging. What have I been up to, you ask? Actually, quite a lot. Here's a quick visual summary to catch you up:

I ran the Marine Corps Marathon - my 7th and The Hubs' 1st!

We celebrated our first wedding anniversary. Old cake! Yum!

We met Tom Selleck at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund Gala.
What a fox! (And a nice guy)

We got all shnazzed up for the Marine Corps Birthday Ball

I graduated with my Master's degree in Library & Information Science!

We spent Christmas in California,
(image from viwephotos.info/)

And found out that we'll be living apart for another year :(
(image from www.futurity.org)

I've been trying to stop the house from crumbling around me.
(Just kidding...kind of...)

Of course I've been hanging out with the pups!

And having snuggy snugs with Ziggy.

I'm still cooking a lot...

And finding things to organize...

And I'm keeping busy with work!
 Here I am at a recent Cocky's Reading Express event. So fun!

So there you have it. My recent life in a few snapshots. Looking forward to filling you in on the details now that life is settling back down again.

Cheers,

Sarah

Sink or Swim

I am now officially a geo-bachelorette. We knew this day was coming, but despite all of our best intentions to "prepare" ourselves we didn't really succeed at that. I was taking an intense summer class, spending all my nights and weekends doing schoolwork. The Hubs was packing up his stuff and hanging out with all of his SC friends for a last hoorah. And then, suddenly, he was gone. The days had been so full of stuff to do that the reality of living apart for nine months didn't finally sink in until his Uhaul was pulling out of the driveway.

For the first week, I couldn't sleep. I would lay in bed until 3, 4, 5 in the morning until finally lulled into an infomercial induced coma. It wasn't because I was worried about him; I knew he was safe and settling in. It was just different. There was something missing. It's a good thing he still has a lot of clothes and other things here, because it allows me the illusion that he is just gone for a short trip, whenever I need to fool myself. If his half of the closet was completely empty, I have a feeling I would be much more of a basket case. Even more of a basket case than using his bath towel that he left hanging on the hook instead of putting in the laundry hamper, just because it's his. (Don't judge me.)

Fortunately, I have slowly been forced back into a regular schedule by the demands of work and my final semester of grad school. And it's quickly become apparent that staying busy is going to be my primary coping mechanism for this separation. Between taking a research class, working three jobs, playing on a kickball team, training for a marathon, and doing all the house and pet stuff on my own, I don't have all that much time to sit around and pine for him.

Speaking of house and pet stuff, I am pretty proud of myself for not letting things immediately turn to rubble. I've been keeping up with the always-necessary vacuuming, dusting, mopping, etc. I have not allowed dishes to accumulate in the sink, despite having a broken dishwasher for a while. I've shuttled the dogs back and forth from the vet's office (although I do have to stagger the visits because I can't wrangle them both at once--especially since one becomes panicky and irate whenever coerced into the exam room). I've done yard work--and not just mowing! I actually trimmed all of our overgrown trees and shrubbery! (There is an inappropriate alternate meaning there as well, but I will gracefully leave it unsaid.) I also took a solo road trip with both dogs, which, believe me, requires acrobatic-like skills during potty stops.

However, I am still afraid of the weed-wacker and the power washer. And I have not yet had sufficient initiative to drag the mower onto the other side of the house. And I borrowed The Hubs' friend to come install the new dishwasher instead of figuring it out myself. And now the vacuum cleaner is broken, with pet hair swiftly accumulating as I figure out what the heck to do with it.

There was no gradually acclimating to this scenario. We just had to jump in--I like to imagine cannonball style, with a dramatic splash--into the deep end. And while I'm not sprinting through the waters, neither am I clinging desperately to a raft. I'm figuring things out the best I can, moment to moment.

I'm doggie paddling.

Ollie has not yet embraced the "sink or swim" mentality. He's a clinger.

Before My Husband Leaves

In just two short months my husband will move to another state, becoming what the military calls a "geographic bachelor." He will essentially relocate the contents of his man room to a small apartment eight hours away. He'll be at school--not deployed--so I don't have to worry about him being in danger unless you count the occasional paper cut. We'll see each other most weekends, and we're already used to spending a lot of time apart, so I'm also not worried about losing touch or the spark of our honeymoon phase. If anything, more time apart will probably extend our honeymoon phase for an extra year. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, yes? But what I'm really a bit nervous about...what I really want to know is...who is going to open the honey jar?

I admit I've grown soft in my marriage, coming to depend on The Hubs to pick up the slack for all of the million tiny things I forget, am incapable of, or simple don't feel like dealing with. Things like fixing the cars, killing roaches, carrying our beer pong team to victory (because I'm definitely no help there), providing enough body heat for both of us during the winter months, and of course anything involving math. Visitors to my house will hear many requests for "man hands" to open condiments, lift things that are heavy, and reach things that are high. He plants the grass and mows the lawn, or at least is there to troubleshoot when my infrequent attempts at lawn mowing go awry. ("So, your hippie-dippie non-motorized push mower won't roll forward? It might have something to do with that big stick caught in the blades.") Don't think that it's a one-way street with The Hubs doing all the work; I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who has ever cleaned our toilets. But the point is, I rely on him an awful lot.

My standard reply, when man hands opens something on the first try after I've shredded my palms trying to do it, is "thanks," followed by "well, I loosened it up for you." It seems as though no matter how hard I try, it always takes one last touch from my big, strong hubby's hands to make everything turn out right. And I like that. It seems to be an apt metaphor for marriage. But the other day, when I wanted some honey for my tea and the lid just wouldn't budge, I passed it off to The Hubs. And instead of opening it with a mere flick of his wrist, he handed it back to me and told me to give it one last shot. And you know what? I got it. So I guess that's an apt metaphor for a military marriage. We will always rely on each other, and he'll be there when he can. But sometimes he'll have to pass everything back to me and I'll just have to make it work without him.

I don't know if he handed the jar back to me because he was sick of dealing with my feeble requests for help, because he just wanted to give me a confidence boost, or because he is slowly trying to prepare me to deal with life in his absence. But it seems to me that there are two ways of preparing for a separation, whether a deployment or a geo-bachelor TDY (temporary duty assignment). You can try to wean yourself off your spouse, taking on their jobs around the house and trying to figure everything out for yourself before asking them to step in. Or, you can sit back and let them help you out as much as possible now, because you'll be taking care of everything by yourself soon enough. If I'm feeling particularly lazy, I'm inclined towards the latter, i.e. "I'll be the only one cleaning the kitty litter box for nine whole months, so you should do it now even though you did it last time." But I guess a part of me does feel like it's time to slowly take on more and more responsibilities, testing out my self-sufficiency while I still have him here as my safety net.

What do you think is better: pulling away before he's actually gone, or keeping everything the same until the last possible moment?

Sarah

Time To Get Some Shape-Ups...

...is what a snotty undergrad said to me yesterday as I walked past her and her boyfriend on campus. I was turning in a final paper and returning some library books before hitting the gym, so I was wearing my workout clothes. As I passed them I smiled and nodded hello, as I do to everyone. Instead of smiling back, she looked right at me and made a snide comment. Apparently, she was unimpressed with how my legs looked in my running shorts.

Her comment was particularly timely since this weekend I saw myself in a bathing suit for the first time in a very long time, and thus I am keenly aware of my lack of muscle tone. But even though I know that I'm a bit jiggly these days, give me a break! I was headed to the gym! All I can say is that being hateful will hold her back a lot more than it will effect me. I can trim down and buff up with some simple exercise, but overcoming a bad personality is a lot more difficult. I am seriously mourning the decline of manners and civility in our society.

But, despite her rudeness, I really am curious about those toning sneakers and wouldn't mind wearing them around campus since I usually end up walking a lot. I like some of the styles that look more like regular sneakers rather than the Shape-Ups. Has anyone tried the New Balance or Reebok versions?

And speaking of bathing suits, The Hubs and I finally booked our honeymoon! This summer we are headed to the French side of St. Martin for a glorious week of sun and relaxation. The kicker? We're staying at a very nice, very nude beach. A "clothing optional paradise!" ha ha. I seriously doubt that I will be flashing the full monty, but perhaps I'll go topless. It would be so European of me :)  Although, exposing my tender bits that have never seen the light of day might be a bit painful. I'll have to take SPF 100,000,000 and wear it like body paint.

Have you ever been to a nude beach before? If so, did you "participate"??

Following Directions

Well, I did it. Yesterday, I actually cooked dinner from a recipe, although I did add a little somethin'-somethin' extra to make it my own (and to make it a "real dinner" by The Hubs' standards). I try to eat healthy but haven't been doing very well lately, so for my foray into recipedom I went for a vegetarian cookbook. I chose a Greek bean one-pot dish which was very delish on its own, but for some people it doesn't count as a real meal unless it includes meat, so I threw some fish in the pot during the last 15 minutes.

I'll have to follow directions more often, because The Hubs polished off the other three portions and that's a good review if ever I've had one. Although, if the goal is for us to eat healthily, I'm not sure encouraging him to eat triple portions is the way to go.

On another high note, I found a great way to re-use all the name tag stickers we have in our junk drawer for some reason:

What The Movie 'Outbreak' Has To Do With My Marriage

Evolutionary-wise, and on a purely chemical level, people have always sought out mates with very different immune systems than their own. The perceived benefit is that their offspring will take the good stuff from each parents' immune system, giving them wider coverage against the gamut of diseases, thus making them healthier and more likely to survive and continue reproducing. If that is the case, I've won the genetic jackpot. The Hubs could swim through a lake of parasite-contaminated water, get bit by a rabid raccoon, and then spend a fortnight sleeping outside in the cold, totally unprotected from the elements. And he wouldn't even sneeze. Me, however, he has affectionately dubbed his "little ebola monkey," because if there is a crazy sickness to be caught, I will surely catch it.

I try to live as healthfully as possible. I take my vitamins, I watch what I eat, I exercise (though not as much as I should). And I'm not allergic to any foods or medicines. I just seem to be allergic to everything in the natural environment: dust, dirt, pollen, pet hair, grass, the sun...yes, even the sun. I now get a bumpy itchy rash when I'm in the sun too long. As a result, I develop frequent sinus infections along with whatever cold or flu happens to be going around.

Having three pets--along with all the dust, dirt, pollen, and hair they come with--is not particularly helpful for my immune system. Our air filter probably clogged with gunk the first day we installed it. Keeping the house clean is a constant battle. And when school and work and life in general gets too busy, it becomes harder and harder to keep ahead of the dust and dirt.

And that's when our house starts attacking me.

And that's when my allergies go haywire and I get sick.

And that's when The Hubs stays home and spends 5 hours vacuuming and mopping and scrubbing and dusting and tidying to get the house as clean as possible so I can breathe a little easier. He even makes me dinner, and then tea, and then turns on the heated blanket so I can snuggle up and go to bed early.

I didn't just win the genetic jackpot with that one--I won every jackpot there is.

Don't Fear the Anchovy

Do you ever notice how picky eaters always think that they really aren't all that picky, but that the pickier they are, the more they protest being labeled as a picky eater? Yeah, The Hubs is one of those. My life would be a lot easier if he didn't mind eating whatever kooky thing I come up with. Kooky as in spinach, or mushrooms, or sour cream, or (gasp!) any kind of syrup other than Mrs. Butterworths. He eats pizza sauce and marinara sauce and ketchup and salsa and chili containing cans and cans of stewed and diced tomatoes, but still he insists that he does not like tomatoes. But I guess that's what marriage is all about, right? Compromises and accommodations of your loved one's quirks. Or as I prefer...stealth-like strategery!

Little does he know (until he actually reads this), that tonight The Hubs ate a big plate full of fresh homemade pasta with an olive oil, garlic, and anchovy sauce. And he loved it! (But he, of course, HATES anchovies). Insert evil laughter here.

So of course it's a mental block, rather than an actual tastebud issue. Even so, am I doomed to a life of hiding ingredients in the back of the cupboard until he's not looking?

Very sneakily yours,
Sarah

Cooling Baby Fever

The Hubs and I have decided to wait a while to have kiddos--mostly because this summer he will be leaving for EWS at Quantico and we will be living apart for nine months. I don't want to go through my first pregnancy alone if we have a choice, and I also don't want him to miss out on anything. Plus, it is probably smart to finish grad school before getting knocked up.

That being said, I must admit to a raging baby fever. Like, bad. Recently, I even took great pleasure in being thrown up on by the adorable son of a friend-of-a-friend. It doesn't help that everywhere I look I see friends and acquaintances and total strangers with cute little bundles of joy slung on their hips. My younger sister just had a baby, and friends who are also younger than me already have multiple children. Keeping up with the Jones' is not the reason for my baby lust, but it certainly isn't helping.

My sweet nephew, Aaron...I can haz wun?

But do you know what does help, at least temporarily? Whenever I start yearning for mommyhood, I just go pour myself a glass of wine. Or a cup of coffee. Or make plans to meet friends for sushi. Or eat a sandwich chock full o' cold cuts. Enjoying all these little things that will be off-limits once it's go time might be the only thing that will get me through the next year without pulling the goalie. (J/K, I would never do that.)

I think it's time for another glass of wine...

Le sigh,
Sarah