I fell in love with Florida the very first time I went. It was February of 1978. Growing up in NY all I ever knew was that summer was warm and winter was cold. To have gotten off the train in Miami Beach (contrary to popular belief, there is no such place as “south beach”. That’s just a pet-name for Miami Beach that has evolved over the years) in the middle of February and have it be warm was all it took. I was almost 7 years old and it didn’t take much to make me happy. From that point on, it was my goal to live in Florida.
In 1989 when I was 17, my dream came true and I moved to Palm Beach County with my parents. Eventually I moved away for my job in the military. But I have always enjoyed going back. Flying into PBI always made me giggle like I was a kid. Seeing that coast and those palm trees come into view was the best feeling ever. Every single time. And I made that flight countless times over the years. As wonderful as all of that was, the best part about being in Florida was seeing my mom and dad. Even after mom died, I still loved going to Florida. After all, dad was still there.
When dad died I made a trip to Florida for the funeral. I remember that flight into PBI like it was yesterday. My amazing coastline and beautiful palm trees came into view and my immediate thought was “I hate this fucking place. I am never coming back here again.”
I know that my emotions were raw. It didn’t help that I had just flown 15 hours from South Korea and barely knew my own name by that point. But it didn’t matter. For me south Florida had lost its allure.
About a year later, my sister Michele, who still lives in Palm Beach County, was getting married. It was going to be my first trip back since dad had passed away. I was with Eric by then and I was looking forward to showing him the area I had grown to know, love, and adopt as my own. So the trip turned out to be a good one. Happy. Lots of fun memories. Subsequently I have made several more trips to visit my sister as well as my Aunt who also lives in the area.
With each trip back, however, I have become more and more unhappy. I don’t know what it is, but when I go back to visit, and drive around, I see memories of mom and dad. All other times that I have gone home those memories had made me smile, and over the last 3 or 4 visits instead of making me smile, it makes me sad. I don’t get it. I would have thought that the memories would continue to make me smile and become progressively easier. Instead, they have become progressively more sad.
Florida used to be my “happy place”. Now it feels like I have not only lost my folks, but that I have lost my “happy place” as well. My “you-CAN-go-home-again” place.
Don’t get me wrong, I am THRILLED with the life I have created for myself and the people who are in it. I am VERY happy. I just feel, sort of an additional loss if you will, when it comes to Florida. I am not quite sure what to do with it yet. I still love palm trees, though.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Goldsboro Comes Through!
Ah, food. I love food. And I have the hips to prove it.
Last Friday night though, was an exceptional night for food. For one of my favorite foods too, no less! That night I had a steak worthy of the highest praise from none other than…me.
On the recommendation of a co-worker, Eric and I visited a brand new restaurant in Goldsboro, NC called Carl & ‘Chelle’s (which I am guessing is short for MI-chelle). If am not mistaken they have only been open since September. Now, living here in Goldsboro I have received recommendations-a-plenty from people regarding where to eat. Some places have even been pretty good. The majority of the time however, the places left me wondering what the hell these people were smoking before they came out with their recommendations. So suffice it to say, expectations were a little bit reserved. Still, being a bit of a food/steak snob, I simply MUST go to a place that came this highly recommended. We were not disappointed.
The restaurant is small, with only about 8 tables total. We arrived just before 6pm and waited about 20 minutes for a seat. While we were waiting, a couple who had just finished eating saw us waiting and asked us if we had ever eaten there before. We told them no, and they told us that it would be well worth the wait. Expectations and hope went even higher. It must be good when people leaving are raving to complete strangers about the quality of the fare, right? When we sat down, the first thing that we noticed was that there were no menus. I have been to such an establishment before and believe you me, it takes a huge ego and exceptional quality to get away with that. After the waiter took our drink orders, the chef himself rolled up to our table with a butcher block and two whole cuts of beef. Tonight they were serving Ribeye and Filet Mignon. I began to drool. I knew we were in for a treat. I picked the 8oz Filet while Eric went with the Ribeye. Both ordered medium-rare. Always a pleasure going to a restaurant where the quality of the beef is good enough to be ordered at the temperature you desire. Your choice for a side was either a baked potato or a twice-baked potato. There was also a salad bar which was basic, but plenty of traditional options.
In short order, out came our meals. Holy cannoli. This steak was utterly amazing. It cut like butter. It was seasoned to perfection. It was cooked perfectly. I have been to some of the best steakhouses in countries all over the world, and this steak was without a doubt in the top three. Maybe even the top two. It brought a smile to my face and tears to my eyes. In Goldsboro. A mere 25 minutes from home. I will be recommending Carl and ‘Chelle’s to anyone who will listen to me. Anyone with taste, that is.
Last Friday night though, was an exceptional night for food. For one of my favorite foods too, no less! That night I had a steak worthy of the highest praise from none other than…me.
On the recommendation of a co-worker, Eric and I visited a brand new restaurant in Goldsboro, NC called Carl & ‘Chelle’s (which I am guessing is short for MI-chelle). If am not mistaken they have only been open since September. Now, living here in Goldsboro I have received recommendations-a-plenty from people regarding where to eat. Some places have even been pretty good. The majority of the time however, the places left me wondering what the hell these people were smoking before they came out with their recommendations. So suffice it to say, expectations were a little bit reserved. Still, being a bit of a food/steak snob, I simply MUST go to a place that came this highly recommended. We were not disappointed.
The restaurant is small, with only about 8 tables total. We arrived just before 6pm and waited about 20 minutes for a seat. While we were waiting, a couple who had just finished eating saw us waiting and asked us if we had ever eaten there before. We told them no, and they told us that it would be well worth the wait. Expectations and hope went even higher. It must be good when people leaving are raving to complete strangers about the quality of the fare, right? When we sat down, the first thing that we noticed was that there were no menus. I have been to such an establishment before and believe you me, it takes a huge ego and exceptional quality to get away with that. After the waiter took our drink orders, the chef himself rolled up to our table with a butcher block and two whole cuts of beef. Tonight they were serving Ribeye and Filet Mignon. I began to drool. I knew we were in for a treat. I picked the 8oz Filet while Eric went with the Ribeye. Both ordered medium-rare. Always a pleasure going to a restaurant where the quality of the beef is good enough to be ordered at the temperature you desire. Your choice for a side was either a baked potato or a twice-baked potato. There was also a salad bar which was basic, but plenty of traditional options.
In short order, out came our meals. Holy cannoli. This steak was utterly amazing. It cut like butter. It was seasoned to perfection. It was cooked perfectly. I have been to some of the best steakhouses in countries all over the world, and this steak was without a doubt in the top three. Maybe even the top two. It brought a smile to my face and tears to my eyes. In Goldsboro. A mere 25 minutes from home. I will be recommending Carl and ‘Chelle’s to anyone who will listen to me. Anyone with taste, that is.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
You knew that...right?
I love my dog, Macy. She is the biggest boo-bear, with the sweetest disposition ever and I am so lucky to have her.
She had a cancer scare last year right before I deployed and *knock wood* she has been happy, healthy and cancer free since having surgery to remove the small tumor. Life is good. That said, she's an older dog already. At 11 years old, she has her little grey chin coming in, it's a little tougher for her to wake up in the mornings, and she isn't quite as sprightly as she used to be. She's getting kinda deaf too. All part of the cycle of life.
Last week she was lying in her bed, and she yelped. It was without a doubt a yelp of sudden pain. But she seemed to get over it quickly and we moved on. A couple hours later while she was just walking from the living room to the kitchen, she yelped again. After the 3rd yelp, I did a cursory check with my non-vet eyes and decided that, given her age and history, I should just take her in to the vet and have them take a look in case I am missing something. Don't want my moose in pain if she doesn't need to be.
I drop her off for her appointment today, and headed into work. A couple hours later I get a call from the vet. She has some degenerative joint disease in her knees and that is likely what was causing her the pain. Nothing a few days without walks and some rimadil won't fix up. Awesome. "And by the way", the vet goes on to say, "where she was shot might be giving her some problems too." Me: Um...excuse me? The Vet: "You knew that she'd been shot, right"? Me: Um...NO!? Like, today?!" The Vet: "No, no, it's an old injury but there are a lot of little bullet fragments around the area of her left hip."
My first reaction is just a pain in my heart. I knew that Macy had likely been abused as a younger dog. I rescued her from a shelter when she was around 3 or 4. About a month after I had her, I was getting a little tired of her going into the trash can and knocking it over for scraps. When I finally caught her in the act, I had rolled up a newspaper and whacked it on the counter and shouted "Macy, NO"! Never touched her. Never intened to touch her, either. But whacking the newpaper on the counter caused her to curl up into a ball, skulk over to the door trying to get outside and she peed on herself. This was OBVIOUSLY a dog who had been beaten into submission. Broke my heart in two. I ran over to her and gave her kisses and loving and apologized for hitting the counter (really?). But I didn't care what impression I may have been giving. I called my sister in law for advice on what to do now (since Macy is my first dog in LIFE). She told me, Liss, she's a dog. Get a trash can that goes under your sink. Problem solved.
My second reaction today was anger. Anyone who knows my dog, knows how sweet and sorta helpless she is under pressure. Who would do that to a dog? Any dog? But especailly MY dog. A dog that I have grown to love an insane amount. Who loves me and loves Eric unconditionally. All she needs in return is pats and food.
As the vet was showing me the x-rays today of her hip and the bullet and all it's fragments were still there lodged in her body, the reaction of heartbreak and anger came together. But in the end, anger won.
If the chicken-shit ass hole who shot my Macy all those years ago is still alive, I hope that someone shoots you in both of your knees, rendering you unable to run from the pack of angry pitbulls who can smell your blood as it pools on the ground around you while you scream in agony and they show you what being a carnivore is truly about.
She had a cancer scare last year right before I deployed and *knock wood* she has been happy, healthy and cancer free since having surgery to remove the small tumor. Life is good. That said, she's an older dog already. At 11 years old, she has her little grey chin coming in, it's a little tougher for her to wake up in the mornings, and she isn't quite as sprightly as she used to be. She's getting kinda deaf too. All part of the cycle of life.
Last week she was lying in her bed, and she yelped. It was without a doubt a yelp of sudden pain. But she seemed to get over it quickly and we moved on. A couple hours later while she was just walking from the living room to the kitchen, she yelped again. After the 3rd yelp, I did a cursory check with my non-vet eyes and decided that, given her age and history, I should just take her in to the vet and have them take a look in case I am missing something. Don't want my moose in pain if she doesn't need to be.
I drop her off for her appointment today, and headed into work. A couple hours later I get a call from the vet. She has some degenerative joint disease in her knees and that is likely what was causing her the pain. Nothing a few days without walks and some rimadil won't fix up. Awesome. "And by the way", the vet goes on to say, "where she was shot might be giving her some problems too." Me: Um...excuse me? The Vet: "You knew that she'd been shot, right"? Me: Um...NO!? Like, today?!" The Vet: "No, no, it's an old injury but there are a lot of little bullet fragments around the area of her left hip."
My first reaction is just a pain in my heart. I knew that Macy had likely been abused as a younger dog. I rescued her from a shelter when she was around 3 or 4. About a month after I had her, I was getting a little tired of her going into the trash can and knocking it over for scraps. When I finally caught her in the act, I had rolled up a newspaper and whacked it on the counter and shouted "Macy, NO"! Never touched her. Never intened to touch her, either. But whacking the newpaper on the counter caused her to curl up into a ball, skulk over to the door trying to get outside and she peed on herself. This was OBVIOUSLY a dog who had been beaten into submission. Broke my heart in two. I ran over to her and gave her kisses and loving and apologized for hitting the counter (really?). But I didn't care what impression I may have been giving. I called my sister in law for advice on what to do now (since Macy is my first dog in LIFE). She told me, Liss, she's a dog. Get a trash can that goes under your sink. Problem solved.
My second reaction today was anger. Anyone who knows my dog, knows how sweet and sorta helpless she is under pressure. Who would do that to a dog? Any dog? But especailly MY dog. A dog that I have grown to love an insane amount. Who loves me and loves Eric unconditionally. All she needs in return is pats and food.
As the vet was showing me the x-rays today of her hip and the bullet and all it's fragments were still there lodged in her body, the reaction of heartbreak and anger came together. But in the end, anger won.
If the chicken-shit ass hole who shot my Macy all those years ago is still alive, I hope that someone shoots you in both of your knees, rendering you unable to run from the pack of angry pitbulls who can smell your blood as it pools on the ground around you while you scream in agony and they show you what being a carnivore is truly about.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Being an introvert
The other day I posted a status update on Facebook making mention of the fact that Facebook was great for us introverts. Because it allows us to interact with people without actually having to speak to them or be in the general vicinity of them. I don't quote this because it wasn't verbatim what I wrote, but close enough. The comments that were generated are what really surprised me, though.
I thought that most people who knew me realized that I was an introvert. I think that most people mistakenly assume that being an introvert was another way of saying "shy" or perhaps even as extreme as "anti-social". Neither of which are even remotely true. About me, or about anyone who is truly an introvert.
I stole these from Wikipedia: "Introverts are people whose energy tends to expand through reflection and dwindle during interaction". Oh yeah. All me. This one too: "...social networking sites have been a thriving home for introverts in the 21st century, where introverts are free from the formalities of social conduct and may become more comfortable blogging about personal feelings they would not otherwise disclose." Like, holy shit! I never read that prior to posting my status update. I just knew enough about myself to know it to be true. This one really brings it home: "Introversion is not the same as being shy or being a social outcast. Introverts prefer solitary activities over social ones, whereas shy people (who may be extraverts at heart) avoid social encounters out of fear, and the social outcast has little choice in the matter of his or her solitude." So there!
Introverts such as myself tend to not be people persons. I actually had a resume with that statement on it. "I am not a people person." I think it is pretty darn important that a potential employer knows that going in, because if they decide to put you in a customer service type of role, then they will find out pretty quickly anyhow and have no one to blame but themselves when things turn sour.
As an introvert, the time I spend with ME is truly wonderful. The time I spend with Eric is also wonderful, but I, as well as most introverts I imagine, do not require the presence of others to feel comfortable, secure, fulfilled or otherwise. Another advantage to being an introvert is that I can say with certainty that I have never felt lonely a day in my life. Ever. My mind is constantly engaged in thought. I theorize about everything. I am constantly working out things in my mind, coming up with answers to questions that I create. I am all about "why" and "how".
I will admit that although it has been several years now, that I didn't realize that I was an introvert until well into adulthood. It was during college when I took one of those Myers-Briggs tests for the first time when I realized that my personality-type actually fell into a 'category' at all. Most of my life I would just assume that everyone felt as I did and just faked it because that is what was socially acceptable. Ok, that wasn't the clearest sentence, so here is an example of what I mean.
Growing up friends would always want to go out to...wherever. A party, a club, a hockey game, other people's houses, wherever. I would go with when invited, because that's just what you did. But I would always be the one sitting, looking at the clock, wondering when an acceptable time to leave without appearing rude was going to be.
So back to my Myers-Briggs test...and forgive me as I think I have actually written about this before...but it tells you what your best professional fit might be to your personality category, and mine pretty much said that I needed to be a research scientist who worked alone on top of a remote mountain in Nepal. With the monkeys and whatnot. I distinctly remember being insulted at that answer but over the years, I realized that it was EXACTLY who I am. I would be willing to bet money that the majority of your scientists, researchers, philosophers, entrepreneurs, artists, and the like are introverts as well.
I feel like my introversion is a gift, quite honestly. It sure came in handy when I was deployed. When there was no TV, internet, or even power at times, my mind was a constant source of entertainment.
Seriously, though. I wish that more of my family had come to my defense when I wrote that status update. I think most felt I was being negative, but that wasn't the case at all. I was merely stating a fact. A fact about myself. One that I have learned to love and embrace! Lucky for me, Eric is a bit of an introvert as well. Not nearly as much as me, but enough so that he understands and loves me because of, and in spite of, it.
I thought that most people who knew me realized that I was an introvert. I think that most people mistakenly assume that being an introvert was another way of saying "shy" or perhaps even as extreme as "anti-social". Neither of which are even remotely true. About me, or about anyone who is truly an introvert.
I stole these from Wikipedia: "Introverts are people whose energy tends to expand through reflection and dwindle during interaction". Oh yeah. All me. This one too: "...social networking sites have been a thriving home for introverts in the 21st century, where introverts are free from the formalities of social conduct and may become more comfortable blogging about personal feelings they would not otherwise disclose." Like, holy shit! I never read that prior to posting my status update. I just knew enough about myself to know it to be true. This one really brings it home: "Introversion is not the same as being shy or being a social outcast. Introverts prefer solitary activities over social ones, whereas shy people (who may be extraverts at heart) avoid social encounters out of fear, and the social outcast has little choice in the matter of his or her solitude." So there!
Introverts such as myself tend to not be people persons. I actually had a resume with that statement on it. "I am not a people person." I think it is pretty darn important that a potential employer knows that going in, because if they decide to put you in a customer service type of role, then they will find out pretty quickly anyhow and have no one to blame but themselves when things turn sour.
As an introvert, the time I spend with ME is truly wonderful. The time I spend with Eric is also wonderful, but I, as well as most introverts I imagine, do not require the presence of others to feel comfortable, secure, fulfilled or otherwise. Another advantage to being an introvert is that I can say with certainty that I have never felt lonely a day in my life. Ever. My mind is constantly engaged in thought. I theorize about everything. I am constantly working out things in my mind, coming up with answers to questions that I create. I am all about "why" and "how".
I will admit that although it has been several years now, that I didn't realize that I was an introvert until well into adulthood. It was during college when I took one of those Myers-Briggs tests for the first time when I realized that my personality-type actually fell into a 'category' at all. Most of my life I would just assume that everyone felt as I did and just faked it because that is what was socially acceptable. Ok, that wasn't the clearest sentence, so here is an example of what I mean.
Growing up friends would always want to go out to...wherever. A party, a club, a hockey game, other people's houses, wherever. I would go with when invited, because that's just what you did. But I would always be the one sitting, looking at the clock, wondering when an acceptable time to leave without appearing rude was going to be.
So back to my Myers-Briggs test...and forgive me as I think I have actually written about this before...but it tells you what your best professional fit might be to your personality category, and mine pretty much said that I needed to be a research scientist who worked alone on top of a remote mountain in Nepal. With the monkeys and whatnot. I distinctly remember being insulted at that answer but over the years, I realized that it was EXACTLY who I am. I would be willing to bet money that the majority of your scientists, researchers, philosophers, entrepreneurs, artists, and the like are introverts as well.
I feel like my introversion is a gift, quite honestly. It sure came in handy when I was deployed. When there was no TV, internet, or even power at times, my mind was a constant source of entertainment.
Seriously, though. I wish that more of my family had come to my defense when I wrote that status update. I think most felt I was being negative, but that wasn't the case at all. I was merely stating a fact. A fact about myself. One that I have learned to love and embrace! Lucky for me, Eric is a bit of an introvert as well. Not nearly as much as me, but enough so that he understands and loves me because of, and in spite of, it.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Too Much of a Good Thing
Those who know me understand that I do a lot of picking at this small town for it's lack of, well, everything. Shopping, culture, food, you name it. I talk about how I would love to live somewhere that had, at the very least, a Macy's. Maybe an Olive Garden, too.
About an hour and a half/forty five minutes away we have Raleigh. We have been to several shows there (Jeff Dunham, Stomp, Shakespeare In The Park), and there is a Macaroni Grill that we enjoy. Even one of Eric's fast food favorites, Chipoltle. It is the perfect size city for my liking. Traffic isn't bad. There is also a GREAT spa called the Umstead (where I could EASILY spend the rest of my natural life). But as I said earlier, it is well over an hour away and not the kind of place you can go to during the week on a whim. Well, unless you are one of those people who can function regularly on 4 hours of sleep a night. Clearly I am not, nor have I ever been, one of those people.
This past week I was in Minnesota. I stayed in Saint Paul. I loved it there. One of the attractions in the Twin Cities area is the Mall of America in Minneapolis. I hopped the crosstown bus from downtown St Paul and went to the Mall of America with great excitement. Talk about everything I could ever want! A mall that had every store I could possibly want to shop in, restaurants that I love, and, get this...a ROLLER COASTER in the mall! I love roller coasters.
I walk into this mall and am quickly overwhelmed with everything that is happening around me. It was loud and hurried, and busy, and there wasn't just A roller coaster; there were 3. And a log flume. And a bunch of other stuff that made this place like an amusement park on crack.
I couldn't deal with it. 30 minutes. That was all I stayed for. I would have left sooner but I walked around for about 10 min, got lost immediately, and spent the next 20 minutes trying to find where the hell I came in. As I am beating feet for the next bus to downtown Saint Paul, I am asking myself over and over again, what the hell my problem is? I don't understand why this wasn't turning out to be a great thing. This was everything I asked for ten-fold!
That, I concluded, was the problem. I am all about small, controlled doses. This was complete retail/entertainment/roller coaster overload. *sigh*
So I am back in Goldsboro, NC. CLEARLY other extreme. But better for a person like me to be underwhelmed than overwhelmed. WAY better.
About an hour and a half/forty five minutes away we have Raleigh. We have been to several shows there (Jeff Dunham, Stomp, Shakespeare In The Park), and there is a Macaroni Grill that we enjoy. Even one of Eric's fast food favorites, Chipoltle. It is the perfect size city for my liking. Traffic isn't bad. There is also a GREAT spa called the Umstead (where I could EASILY spend the rest of my natural life). But as I said earlier, it is well over an hour away and not the kind of place you can go to during the week on a whim. Well, unless you are one of those people who can function regularly on 4 hours of sleep a night. Clearly I am not, nor have I ever been, one of those people.
This past week I was in Minnesota. I stayed in Saint Paul. I loved it there. One of the attractions in the Twin Cities area is the Mall of America in Minneapolis. I hopped the crosstown bus from downtown St Paul and went to the Mall of America with great excitement. Talk about everything I could ever want! A mall that had every store I could possibly want to shop in, restaurants that I love, and, get this...a ROLLER COASTER in the mall! I love roller coasters.
I walk into this mall and am quickly overwhelmed with everything that is happening around me. It was loud and hurried, and busy, and there wasn't just A roller coaster; there were 3. And a log flume. And a bunch of other stuff that made this place like an amusement park on crack.
I couldn't deal with it. 30 minutes. That was all I stayed for. I would have left sooner but I walked around for about 10 min, got lost immediately, and spent the next 20 minutes trying to find where the hell I came in. As I am beating feet for the next bus to downtown Saint Paul, I am asking myself over and over again, what the hell my problem is? I don't understand why this wasn't turning out to be a great thing. This was everything I asked for ten-fold!
That, I concluded, was the problem. I am all about small, controlled doses. This was complete retail/entertainment/roller coaster overload. *sigh*
So I am back in Goldsboro, NC. CLEARLY other extreme. But better for a person like me to be underwhelmed than overwhelmed. WAY better.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Time off
I have been off of work for a little over three weeks now. I don't think I have ever been off for this many days in a row. In my life. Not even after surgery.
The first two weeks were filled with the wedding and honeymoon and the third week was just, well, time off. Going into this current week it has been more of the same.
I decided to use this week to drive down to Florida and visit with my sister and my aunt (who had some unexpected surgery and was unable to make it to the wedding) and it has been great. South Florida rules. Always has.
The things that I have enjoyed about these past two weeks are sort of surprising to me. Never much of a girly-girl, things like accessorizing have never held much appeal to me. Well, about two days before our honeymoon I bought a new purse. One of those "The Sak" purses in a neutral color to take with me on the honeymoon. It seems to have started there.
Next thing I know, I am wearing skirts, heels, necklaces, rings, sun hats, and LOVING it. The idea of going back to work and going back to that boring-ass black purse that I am forced to carry in the military actually makes me pout a little bit. I have really gotten used to my new purse and my palm tree necklace. And my pretty double Swarovski crystal rings in pink and white that match one of my new tops and skirts perfectly. See that? Who the hell just wrote that last sentence??
I knew that I didn't take enough time off after my deployment. I did that because I knew that I was going to be taking close to a month off for my wedding/honeymoon. I think perhaps that the deployment changed me. Some good ways, some not so good. But I like this new side of me.
I also know that once I go back to reality that not only am I not allowed to keep this up, but I won't have any desire to keep it up. It isn't worth coming home from a 10+ hour day to put on accessories and change purses for what amounts to an hour or two of free time in the evening before I have to go to bed.
I only hope that when I retire, perhaps I will remember this short time frame where I was able to discover a new side of me that I really like and feel comfortable being, and will still have the desire to try.
The first two weeks were filled with the wedding and honeymoon and the third week was just, well, time off. Going into this current week it has been more of the same.
I decided to use this week to drive down to Florida and visit with my sister and my aunt (who had some unexpected surgery and was unable to make it to the wedding) and it has been great. South Florida rules. Always has.
The things that I have enjoyed about these past two weeks are sort of surprising to me. Never much of a girly-girl, things like accessorizing have never held much appeal to me. Well, about two days before our honeymoon I bought a new purse. One of those "The Sak" purses in a neutral color to take with me on the honeymoon. It seems to have started there.
Next thing I know, I am wearing skirts, heels, necklaces, rings, sun hats, and LOVING it. The idea of going back to work and going back to that boring-ass black purse that I am forced to carry in the military actually makes me pout a little bit. I have really gotten used to my new purse and my palm tree necklace. And my pretty double Swarovski crystal rings in pink and white that match one of my new tops and skirts perfectly. See that? Who the hell just wrote that last sentence??
I knew that I didn't take enough time off after my deployment. I did that because I knew that I was going to be taking close to a month off for my wedding/honeymoon. I think perhaps that the deployment changed me. Some good ways, some not so good. But I like this new side of me.
I also know that once I go back to reality that not only am I not allowed to keep this up, but I won't have any desire to keep it up. It isn't worth coming home from a 10+ hour day to put on accessories and change purses for what amounts to an hour or two of free time in the evening before I have to go to bed.
I only hope that when I retire, perhaps I will remember this short time frame where I was able to discover a new side of me that I really like and feel comfortable being, and will still have the desire to try.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Bridal pictures
Psyche!!!! No pictures for you! Well, not yet at least.
However, this past Tuesday we did my bridal pictures. Doing pictures of just the bride serves a couple of useful purposes. First, it reduces the total amount of time spent taking pictures on the day of the wedding. This is important because it means Eric and I will get to the reception, and by default, the food, faster. Second, it gives the bride an opportunity to do a full-dress dry run. Taking the pictures helped me get used to putting on and taking off the dress. I got to know how the dress worked, how the crinoline and bustier worked, and most importantly, how the dress worked on my body. I was actually afraid of the dress until this past Tuesday. Handling it with kid gloves, etc. However, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that as a heavy silk/satin gown, it can really take a beating!
Believe you me, it was tested on several levels. My photographer, Chad, is a very talented artist. He took us (and by "us" I mean Holly and myself. Holly did my hair for me and helped me in and out of the dress, in and out of different locations, and was a generally supportive human being!), all over the place for these pictures. We were in front of an old church, in a wheat field, at his studio, and on the street in the little town of LaGrange, NC.
While we were shooting in the wheat field, I was standing there in the middle of the wheat, actually enjoying myself and the breeze, as he took shot after shot. At the end of the shoot, Holly and I began the task of gathering up my dress to avoid having it drag on the ground. When we get the dress up, I look down and what do I see? A spider the size of Texas is running up my dress between the layers of tulle. Well...
Anyone who knows me, knows that one of my two fears on this planet is spiders (the other is water). Apparently neither Holly nor Chad (the photographer) liked spiders either because the next thing I know Holly drops her end of the dress and is a quarter mile down the road, I am in an absolute panic yelling at Chad who was the only one of the three of us with a penis to get the fucking spider off my dress while jumping up and down in heels in the middle of this wheat field.
I finally jump up and down enough for the spider to lose it's grip on the tulle and fall out onto the sheet I was standing on to protect the dress. Chad and I were trying to kill it as it is attempting to jump back up onto my dress. Chad finally shows this spider an untimely death and I am jumping through this wheat field with my dress practically over my head trying to make it back to the car.
I have since seen the pictures, and they are absolutely amazing. But make no mistake...I was about 1 more minute from dropping trou right there in the wheat field and turning my dress over to the spider. I would have had no problem just buying another dress if I had to.
However, this past Tuesday we did my bridal pictures. Doing pictures of just the bride serves a couple of useful purposes. First, it reduces the total amount of time spent taking pictures on the day of the wedding. This is important because it means Eric and I will get to the reception, and by default, the food, faster. Second, it gives the bride an opportunity to do a full-dress dry run. Taking the pictures helped me get used to putting on and taking off the dress. I got to know how the dress worked, how the crinoline and bustier worked, and most importantly, how the dress worked on my body. I was actually afraid of the dress until this past Tuesday. Handling it with kid gloves, etc. However, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that as a heavy silk/satin gown, it can really take a beating!
Believe you me, it was tested on several levels. My photographer, Chad, is a very talented artist. He took us (and by "us" I mean Holly and myself. Holly did my hair for me and helped me in and out of the dress, in and out of different locations, and was a generally supportive human being!), all over the place for these pictures. We were in front of an old church, in a wheat field, at his studio, and on the street in the little town of LaGrange, NC.
While we were shooting in the wheat field, I was standing there in the middle of the wheat, actually enjoying myself and the breeze, as he took shot after shot. At the end of the shoot, Holly and I began the task of gathering up my dress to avoid having it drag on the ground. When we get the dress up, I look down and what do I see? A spider the size of Texas is running up my dress between the layers of tulle. Well...
Anyone who knows me, knows that one of my two fears on this planet is spiders (the other is water). Apparently neither Holly nor Chad (the photographer) liked spiders either because the next thing I know Holly drops her end of the dress and is a quarter mile down the road, I am in an absolute panic yelling at Chad who was the only one of the three of us with a penis to get the fucking spider off my dress while jumping up and down in heels in the middle of this wheat field.
I finally jump up and down enough for the spider to lose it's grip on the tulle and fall out onto the sheet I was standing on to protect the dress. Chad and I were trying to kill it as it is attempting to jump back up onto my dress. Chad finally shows this spider an untimely death and I am jumping through this wheat field with my dress practically over my head trying to make it back to the car.
I have since seen the pictures, and they are absolutely amazing. But make no mistake...I was about 1 more minute from dropping trou right there in the wheat field and turning my dress over to the spider. I would have had no problem just buying another dress if I had to.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Family!
This weekend, Eric and I went up to Philadelphia, PA for the Bar Mitzvah of my cousin Miles. It was the first time seeing my family since coming back from deployment. I was anticipating this trip with such excitement that I lost sleep. And the end result didn't disappoint!
After a rough start to the drive in the form of a knocking engine/check engine light at the border of Virgina, having to turn around, go back home, get another car, and start the trip over again, (my reaction to this was less than stellar and I am shocked that Eric still wants to marry me) we were finally under way.
I found that I was unreasonably on edge for the first 24 hours. I am sure the faulty engine in my Audi didn't help, but I really believe the culprit was some weird just-getting-back-from-deployment thing that I can't quite put my finger on. I consciously worked on it and I managed to get almost back to myself. (Have I mentioned how amazing, patient and wonderful Eric is?)
The Bar Mitzvah itself was a wonderful, traditional Jewish ceremony at the temple (to the tune of 3 hours), and Miles, at the ripe old age of 13, was a true charmer to watch as he read from the Torah. He has a smile that could melt ice sculptures! You couldn't help but smile right along with him.
The party afterwards was in true Davidow Bar mitzvah style. Lots of food, entertainment, drinks, dancing, and HUGE family hugs! Seeing my cousins and my Aunt Pearl was just magnificent. Seeing my brother Chuck, however, was just fantastic. I can't quite put my finger on what exactly it was that took me on such a roller coaster emotionally, but it was a great ride.
The weekend was way too short to say the least and I found myself wishing we all had more time together to just sit and talk with no obligations or places to be. I have to make an effort to make that happen. Not just with Chuck, but with my cousins, sister, aunt, every one. Take a weekend that doesn't involve some grand family event and just make it about catching up.
My words can't do this weekend justice. So hopefully the pictures I am going to attempt to attach here will help give it some color!
Saturday, April 23, 2011
A post-deployment...well...post.
I am two weeks post deployment. I suppose the first thing I need to put out there is just how quickly things begin to disappear from your memory when you come back from deployment. Places I went, names of cities, and most disturbingly the names of people I worked with and lived with day in and day out for months on end have already begun their exodus from my memory bank. I suppose if memories were FDIC insured I wouldn't have to worry about writing all this down now. But alas they aren't.
Fortunately for me, I had the foresight to realize that things were going on that I knew I would want to remember or at least SHOULD remember, and I kept a journal. The journal is made up mostly of my in-the-moment rants. I actually haven't even read though all of them.
I was pretty fortunate in that I wasn't involved in any IEDs or other such traumatic events.
Pakistan however, is a dangerous place and being on edge and hypersensitive to your surroundings in order to avoid being blown up, shot at or otherwise attacked, takes it's toll. On that note, I have simply taken one of my journal entries and am using at as my blog.
Day 38: As I was walking outside to the guards to share with them my bounty from the care packages I received today, my routine thought process began. These thoughts cross my mind every day. Our guards are paid to protect us 24 hours a day.
I smile and greet them in Urdu. They smile back and eagerly reach out their hands to receive my meager armful of snacks and cookies from back home. It's a lot to them. They think my attempt at Urdu is cute. They love the American snacks of chocolates and chips. It makes me happy to give it to them. I know they are chilly and can get very cold at night. They have a thankless job and, much like our SF personnel at home, I like to show them some appreciation. I am empathetic towards those who work long, difficult hours. Always have been. It is in my nature. This leopard will not likely change her spots at this late stage.
They are armed to the teeth. Even so, they would be the first to die in a suicide bomb attack of our residence. I tend to think the best of people. I tend to feel safe. Safer than I should. There is not a single one of them who wouldn't turn around and kill me for the right price. Who wouldn't sell me, or any one of my colleagues out, for a week's salary. I, especially, probably offend them. What with my English tongue, the audacity to go out in public sans headscarf, and my driving. Not only do I drive, but I drive alone. A woman should only be in the back seat of a vehicle. A vehicle is driven only by a man. My every day actions are an insult to their entire way of life. I don't go about day to day with a goal of insulting my host nation's people. I have a job to do. As I turn and walk away after delivering the goodies, I wonder if today is the day I will hear the shot and feel the bullet in my back?
Fortunately for me, I had the foresight to realize that things were going on that I knew I would want to remember or at least SHOULD remember, and I kept a journal. The journal is made up mostly of my in-the-moment rants. I actually haven't even read though all of them.
I was pretty fortunate in that I wasn't involved in any IEDs or other such traumatic events.
Pakistan however, is a dangerous place and being on edge and hypersensitive to your surroundings in order to avoid being blown up, shot at or otherwise attacked, takes it's toll. On that note, I have simply taken one of my journal entries and am using at as my blog.
Day 38: As I was walking outside to the guards to share with them my bounty from the care packages I received today, my routine thought process began. These thoughts cross my mind every day. Our guards are paid to protect us 24 hours a day.
I smile and greet them in Urdu. They smile back and eagerly reach out their hands to receive my meager armful of snacks and cookies from back home. It's a lot to them. They think my attempt at Urdu is cute. They love the American snacks of chocolates and chips. It makes me happy to give it to them. I know they are chilly and can get very cold at night. They have a thankless job and, much like our SF personnel at home, I like to show them some appreciation. I am empathetic towards those who work long, difficult hours. Always have been. It is in my nature. This leopard will not likely change her spots at this late stage.
They are armed to the teeth. Even so, they would be the first to die in a suicide bomb attack of our residence. I tend to think the best of people. I tend to feel safe. Safer than I should. There is not a single one of them who wouldn't turn around and kill me for the right price. Who wouldn't sell me, or any one of my colleagues out, for a week's salary. I, especially, probably offend them. What with my English tongue, the audacity to go out in public sans headscarf, and my driving. Not only do I drive, but I drive alone. A woman should only be in the back seat of a vehicle. A vehicle is driven only by a man. My every day actions are an insult to their entire way of life. I don't go about day to day with a goal of insulting my host nation's people. I have a job to do. As I turn and walk away after delivering the goodies, I wonder if today is the day I will hear the shot and feel the bullet in my back?
Sunday, April 17, 2011
"Best Hamburger" my ass.
In yet another glaring display of the public's sheep mentality, just because a bunch of people jump on the bandwagon of someone who says something is "great" or "the best", does NOT make it so. Tonight we went to a place called "Five Guys" burgers and I walked away extremely disappointed.
I had heard great comments from several people about how wonderful the hamburgers are at Five Guys. I even read a review (or two) that Five Guys was voted "Best Hamburger" in North Carolina. Needless to say, hopes were high.
In all fairness, I feel obligated at this point to share the start of my love-affair with a good quality hamburger. I like to compare burgers to a benchmark that was set for me years ago when I went to my first Fudruckers. I remember it like it was yesterday...1989, I walked into Fudruckers in West Palm Beach with my father, my Aunt Pearl, and my Uncle Dan. We go up to the counter and my uncle Dan promptly orders the "motherfucker" without so much as an apology (may he rest in peace), I order a burger exactly how I wanted it. Rare with mushrooms and nothing else. Always a sign of a great burger place. Being able to order it the temperature you want it. Means they use good quality meat. Did you know that? It's why you can't order a burger from McDonalds medium rare. They use barely-legal meat in their burgers. Cook 'em less than well done and you end up with lysteria or something else that I can't spell. I get my burger and it was amazing. Juicy, high quality meat without those little hard rubbery pieces floating around in it (you know what I am talking about..those little pieces that scream lousy meat pieces and fillers), fantastic hand mushrooms all seasoned to perfection and placed on a baked fresh bun that practically melted in your mouth.
So obviously with all the hype that preceded our visit today, at the very least I assumed that I could order the burger medium rare. We walk in and the first thing we see when we arrive at the counter is "We cook all our burgers to a juicy well-done". Another glaring example of saying something that just isn't true. It isn't actually possible to cook any piece of meat to "well-done" and still be "juicy". At that point I was ready to walk away. That sign screamed that their meat quality was lousy and I was too hungry to waste my money on something that I already knew was going to suck. But we stayed anyway. Perhaps I would be pleasantly surprised? We order our burgers and wait for the outcome.
Sure enough, this burger comes and I must say, the only thing that separated it from a hockey puck was the fact that it was nestled in a bun. One bite and I realized that McDonalds was actually better than this poor excuse for a hamburger. Little hard rubbery pieces scattered throughout the meat. Zero flavor. And, of course, zero juice. I was famished however and ate about 5 bites of the burger. Then I gave up the ghost. I left. Hungry.
I have not looked up the corporate or franchise history of Five Guys hamburgers but I cannot imagine these five guys would have become so monumentally successful cooking burgers like what I had tonight. Perhaps the nanny-state time we live in prevents them from serving anything that is cooked at a cooler temperature than well-done. Since no self-respecting meat-loving carnivore would ever cook their meat well-done, why would you waste high quality meat in a dish you were forced to cook well-done? At least that I what I hope happened here.
Either way, I am going on my own record to declare that I would never recommend getting a hamburger at Five Guys. Save your 5 bucks and get 5 burgers of the same lousy quality for the same price at McDonalds.
I had heard great comments from several people about how wonderful the hamburgers are at Five Guys. I even read a review (or two) that Five Guys was voted "Best Hamburger" in North Carolina. Needless to say, hopes were high.
In all fairness, I feel obligated at this point to share the start of my love-affair with a good quality hamburger. I like to compare burgers to a benchmark that was set for me years ago when I went to my first Fudruckers. I remember it like it was yesterday...1989, I walked into Fudruckers in West Palm Beach with my father, my Aunt Pearl, and my Uncle Dan. We go up to the counter and my uncle Dan promptly orders the "motherfucker" without so much as an apology (may he rest in peace), I order a burger exactly how I wanted it. Rare with mushrooms and nothing else. Always a sign of a great burger place. Being able to order it the temperature you want it. Means they use good quality meat. Did you know that? It's why you can't order a burger from McDonalds medium rare. They use barely-legal meat in their burgers. Cook 'em less than well done and you end up with lysteria or something else that I can't spell. I get my burger and it was amazing. Juicy, high quality meat without those little hard rubbery pieces floating around in it (you know what I am talking about..those little pieces that scream lousy meat pieces and fillers), fantastic hand mushrooms all seasoned to perfection and placed on a baked fresh bun that practically melted in your mouth.
So obviously with all the hype that preceded our visit today, at the very least I assumed that I could order the burger medium rare. We walk in and the first thing we see when we arrive at the counter is "We cook all our burgers to a juicy well-done". Another glaring example of saying something that just isn't true. It isn't actually possible to cook any piece of meat to "well-done" and still be "juicy". At that point I was ready to walk away. That sign screamed that their meat quality was lousy and I was too hungry to waste my money on something that I already knew was going to suck. But we stayed anyway. Perhaps I would be pleasantly surprised? We order our burgers and wait for the outcome.
Sure enough, this burger comes and I must say, the only thing that separated it from a hockey puck was the fact that it was nestled in a bun. One bite and I realized that McDonalds was actually better than this poor excuse for a hamburger. Little hard rubbery pieces scattered throughout the meat. Zero flavor. And, of course, zero juice. I was famished however and ate about 5 bites of the burger. Then I gave up the ghost. I left. Hungry.
I have not looked up the corporate or franchise history of Five Guys hamburgers but I cannot imagine these five guys would have become so monumentally successful cooking burgers like what I had tonight. Perhaps the nanny-state time we live in prevents them from serving anything that is cooked at a cooler temperature than well-done. Since no self-respecting meat-loving carnivore would ever cook their meat well-done, why would you waste high quality meat in a dish you were forced to cook well-done? At least that I what I hope happened here.
Either way, I am going on my own record to declare that I would never recommend getting a hamburger at Five Guys. Save your 5 bucks and get 5 burgers of the same lousy quality for the same price at McDonalds.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Things I will and wont miss from deployment
Things I will NOT miss from deployment:
1. Being cold
2. Not having hot water
3. Sporadically having NO water
4. Not being able to go outside for a simple walk
5. Being hungry. Mostly on Sundays.
6. The fear and unknown of being on the roads (terrorists, IEDs, shootings, and idiots who shouldn't be allowed out of their houses at all let alone to operate anything with a motor)
7. The smell. This place smells like a cesspool.
8. The lack of value placed on human life (The It's-ok-if-my-kid-falls-off-my-motorbike-and-dies,-I-have-another-one attitude)
9. Missing home.
10. Pakistani Parasites (I saved this one for last because there was a slight yet significant upside of weight loss that accompanies them).
Things I WILL miss from deployment:
1. The look of the Himalayan foothills after a rain
2. Wearing civilian clothes every day
3. Seeing the occasional monkey hop across the road (yes, I have grown fond of the monkeys)
4. The people I have worked with. Every one of them a true character
5. Working for Special Operations Command.
I was hoping to come up with 10 things I will miss. Not happening. Perhaps later on once I have gotten some time and distance away from here I will be able to think of more. If I do, I will update my list!
1. Being cold
2. Not having hot water
3. Sporadically having NO water
4. Not being able to go outside for a simple walk
5. Being hungry. Mostly on Sundays.
6. The fear and unknown of being on the roads (terrorists, IEDs, shootings, and idiots who shouldn't be allowed out of their houses at all let alone to operate anything with a motor)
7. The smell. This place smells like a cesspool.
8. The lack of value placed on human life (The It's-ok-if-my-kid-falls-off-my-motorbike-and-dies,-I-have-another-one attitude)
9. Missing home.
10. Pakistani Parasites (I saved this one for last because there was a slight yet significant upside of weight loss that accompanies them).
Things I WILL miss from deployment:
1. The look of the Himalayan foothills after a rain
2. Wearing civilian clothes every day
3. Seeing the occasional monkey hop across the road (yes, I have grown fond of the monkeys)
4. The people I have worked with. Every one of them a true character
5. Working for Special Operations Command.
I was hoping to come up with 10 things I will miss. Not happening. Perhaps later on once I have gotten some time and distance away from here I will be able to think of more. If I do, I will update my list!
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
First plane ride
Another headline, another blog!
This time, I saw a headline that mentioned the impact your first plane ride has on the type of traveler you will be later on. It got me thinking about the first time I was ever on a plane.
I was 17 years old. That may have seemed old to a lot of people, but where I was from, that was pretty standard. There are probably people where I grew up who have STILL never been on a plane.
It wasn't for a lack of desire, mind you. I remember thinking that I always wanted to go somewhere on a plane. As a kid, my father would take us to the little Dutchess County airport where we would park on the side of the road right on the landing path of the "Command" commuter plane. We would sit on the hood of the car (a-la Wayne's World 20 years before that movie came out), and wait for it's approach. The plane, a huge, loud, clunky propeller plane that probably seated about 25 passengers or so, would come into sight way off in the distance. You could see it before you could hear it. As it got closer the familiar sound of the propellers got louder and louder and the plane got bigger and bigger, almost like it was growing right before your eyes. Us three kids would get all excited as thump of the propellers would begin to shake the car as it got closer. The key was to keep your eyes open the whole time. The closer it got to the runway, I would have sworn that it was going to hit our car and us along with it. I remember screaming "Daddy, daddy it's gonna land on us!!" And he would laugh and say "Keep looking up, Liss! Don't close your eyes!" My hands would finally fly up to cover my ears and I couldn't even hear myself scream with excitement (terror??) as the wheels crossed right over top of our car. We would watch the plane, cheering and clapping as the little plumes of smoke appeared as the wheels made contact with the runway. I am not sure there was ever a time when I didn't ask dad if we could go into the airport and just go for a ride in the plane. Show's how much I knew!
Fast forward to March of 1989. I am 17 years old and getting ready to move to Florida. We were leaving out of Newark, NJ on a morning flight. Dad told me that there would be a car coming to pick us up at the house at 6am. I said to him "A 'car'? Do you mean a limo"? He assured me that it was NOT a limo. Well, one quick phone call changed that. I requested a stretch limo with all the trimmings for us and paid for it myself. Needless to say it was a great trip to Newark. And it set the stage for this event that I had been waiting for my whole life. We get onto the plane and dad took the dreaded middle seat to make sure that I was able to sit by the window. My heart was beating out of my chest from the moment the plane started to back away from the gate. We were probably 4th or 5th in line for take off and as the pilot counted down our position I am not sure how I didn't come out of my skin. When the plane started to speed up I couldn't stop saying "Oh my god, oh my god! We're going SO fast!" The feeling in my stomach as the plane left the ground actually made me say "Wheee!!!!!!" My ears blocked up and the ground passed below us and as the plane banked it felt and looked like we were going to go upside down. This was by far the BEST ride I had ever been on in my life! Better than the Cyclone at Coney Island, even!
I knew going into it that I was going to love flying and that first flight didn't disappoint. I loved everything about that flight. Everything from the safety briefing, to the slight turbulence, to the peanuts, and the brilliance I saw in how they built neighborhoods as I had my face planted up against the window the whole time.
When we left Newark, it was about 30 degrees outside and there was snow on the ground. When we landed in Palm Beach, Florida, it was 76 degrees, sunny, and the palm trees were the most beautiful things I had ever seen. I felt like a rock star.
I loved that flight back then. I still love flying now. I still get excited during every takeoff and every landing. Perhaps it was late in life for a first flight, but thinking about it now, I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
This time, I saw a headline that mentioned the impact your first plane ride has on the type of traveler you will be later on. It got me thinking about the first time I was ever on a plane.
I was 17 years old. That may have seemed old to a lot of people, but where I was from, that was pretty standard. There are probably people where I grew up who have STILL never been on a plane.
It wasn't for a lack of desire, mind you. I remember thinking that I always wanted to go somewhere on a plane. As a kid, my father would take us to the little Dutchess County airport where we would park on the side of the road right on the landing path of the "Command" commuter plane. We would sit on the hood of the car (a-la Wayne's World 20 years before that movie came out), and wait for it's approach. The plane, a huge, loud, clunky propeller plane that probably seated about 25 passengers or so, would come into sight way off in the distance. You could see it before you could hear it. As it got closer the familiar sound of the propellers got louder and louder and the plane got bigger and bigger, almost like it was growing right before your eyes. Us three kids would get all excited as thump of the propellers would begin to shake the car as it got closer. The key was to keep your eyes open the whole time. The closer it got to the runway, I would have sworn that it was going to hit our car and us along with it. I remember screaming "Daddy, daddy it's gonna land on us!!" And he would laugh and say "Keep looking up, Liss! Don't close your eyes!" My hands would finally fly up to cover my ears and I couldn't even hear myself scream with excitement (terror??) as the wheels crossed right over top of our car. We would watch the plane, cheering and clapping as the little plumes of smoke appeared as the wheels made contact with the runway. I am not sure there was ever a time when I didn't ask dad if we could go into the airport and just go for a ride in the plane. Show's how much I knew!
Fast forward to March of 1989. I am 17 years old and getting ready to move to Florida. We were leaving out of Newark, NJ on a morning flight. Dad told me that there would be a car coming to pick us up at the house at 6am. I said to him "A 'car'? Do you mean a limo"? He assured me that it was NOT a limo. Well, one quick phone call changed that. I requested a stretch limo with all the trimmings for us and paid for it myself. Needless to say it was a great trip to Newark. And it set the stage for this event that I had been waiting for my whole life. We get onto the plane and dad took the dreaded middle seat to make sure that I was able to sit by the window. My heart was beating out of my chest from the moment the plane started to back away from the gate. We were probably 4th or 5th in line for take off and as the pilot counted down our position I am not sure how I didn't come out of my skin. When the plane started to speed up I couldn't stop saying "Oh my god, oh my god! We're going SO fast!" The feeling in my stomach as the plane left the ground actually made me say "Wheee!!!!!!" My ears blocked up and the ground passed below us and as the plane banked it felt and looked like we were going to go upside down. This was by far the BEST ride I had ever been on in my life! Better than the Cyclone at Coney Island, even!
I knew going into it that I was going to love flying and that first flight didn't disappoint. I loved everything about that flight. Everything from the safety briefing, to the slight turbulence, to the peanuts, and the brilliance I saw in how they built neighborhoods as I had my face planted up against the window the whole time.
When we left Newark, it was about 30 degrees outside and there was snow on the ground. When we landed in Palm Beach, Florida, it was 76 degrees, sunny, and the palm trees were the most beautiful things I had ever seen. I felt like a rock star.
I loved that flight back then. I still love flying now. I still get excited during every takeoff and every landing. Perhaps it was late in life for a first flight, but thinking about it now, I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
A year...
It was one year ago today that Eric asked me to marry him. When I think about it I still get butterflies in my tummy! Valentines day is tomorrow and that he asked me so close to Valentines day really had nothing to do with Valentines day at all. I found out later on that night when we talked about it that he was planning on asking me the week before he ended up proposing.
He was supposed to come with me to a conference I had in Las Vegas and had planned on asking me to marry him then (he went to high school in Las Vegas so the area has meaning to him) but he ended up having to work and couldn't go. So we had planned a weekend away together as soon as I got back, but I ended up stuck in Las Vegas for two extra nights because we had a snow storm in Atlanta/Raleigh and all the flights were canceled (see that, everyone thinks that this year's weather in the southeast is so uniquely bad but we had the same level of storms almost to the exact day as last year. People just don't remember!). So when I made it back to NC he was finally able to propose. Poor guy! All his big plans kept getting spoiled!
Spending my deployment down-time thinking about the wedding really brightens my day. June is really right around the corner. I can't help but feel that a line from "When Harry Met Sally" is appropriate here: "When you realize that you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."
He was supposed to come with me to a conference I had in Las Vegas and had planned on asking me to marry him then (he went to high school in Las Vegas so the area has meaning to him) but he ended up having to work and couldn't go. So we had planned a weekend away together as soon as I got back, but I ended up stuck in Las Vegas for two extra nights because we had a snow storm in Atlanta/Raleigh and all the flights were canceled (see that, everyone thinks that this year's weather in the southeast is so uniquely bad but we had the same level of storms almost to the exact day as last year. People just don't remember!). So when I made it back to NC he was finally able to propose. Poor guy! All his big plans kept getting spoiled!
Spending my deployment down-time thinking about the wedding really brightens my day. June is really right around the corner. I can't help but feel that a line from "When Harry Met Sally" is appropriate here: "When you realize that you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."
Sunday, February 6, 2011
The power of money
I love the show Say Yes To The Dress. I loved it before I got engaged and love it even more now that I am getting married. Since my deployment I have been relegated to watching episodes that cost me $2.00 a piece, take a full 5 hours to download, and I watch them on my borrowed-from-Eric iphone's 2x3 inch screen. Don't care. Grateful to see it. Even if it is in miniature.
Tonight's show featured a bride-to-be who came in with her mom to shop for her dress. The bride-to-be had a set budget of $5,000. She was paying for her own dress. Props! Now, in what was a very generous gesture, her mother comes in to the dressing room with a gift box. Inside the gift box is literally a blank check. Her mother decided she wanted her daughter to have an unlimited budget and as a gift, decided to pay for her daughters dress.
She had already tried on a couple of dresses (prior to the blank check gift) and the dresses the bride liked weren't necessarily the ones her mom liked. And vice versa. Cut to one of the knowledgeable consultants, who have been doing this for years, and they say that it changes the playing field when mom (or anyone else) is paying for the dress. Suddenly, they have a say in what dress you ultimately chose. *Queue sound of needle scratching across record here!* EXCUSE ME?
I have gotten some fantastic one-liner money advice in my lifetime. Here are two examples: "Never invest anything that you are not willing to lose" (Thanks uncle Dan!)and "Always view money you give to family, friends, co-workers or anyone, as a gift that you will never see again." (Thanks dad!) Don't get me wrong, if you give money to someone and they come to you the next day to pay it back, don't turn it down. By all means accept it. But never EXPECT to see it again. I have seen first hand how money has come between friends, family, and others and ruin relationships. SO not worth it.
Over the years I have developed my own views about the giving of money. When you make a decision to give money away, be it to family, friends, or whomever, you also need to be willing to give up ANY say in how they spend it. If a family member comes to you and says, I need $50 to pay my electric bill or they are going to shut off my lights and you give them $50 and they turn around and spend it on beer and cigarettes, so be it. You can always decide to never give them money again. You are not their boss, you are not a bank, you are not their mother (ok, maybe you are their mother, but this is not applicable to a parent who is trying to TEACH fiscal responsibility to an 8 year old). Money should NEVER come with strings attached.
Watching this particular episode, I have no doubt that this mom REALLY just wanted to give her daughter a very generous gift. It made her feel good. But perhaps, in her mind, she thought that her opinion should count for something since she was now paying for the dress. THIS, I have a real problem with. If you were with me when I was shopping for my wedding dress and you generously offered to make my budget unlimited, but there was a stipulation that YOU had to be happy with the dress as well, I would thank you profusely and then graciously return your check.
Tonight's show featured a bride-to-be who came in with her mom to shop for her dress. The bride-to-be had a set budget of $5,000. She was paying for her own dress. Props! Now, in what was a very generous gesture, her mother comes in to the dressing room with a gift box. Inside the gift box is literally a blank check. Her mother decided she wanted her daughter to have an unlimited budget and as a gift, decided to pay for her daughters dress.
She had already tried on a couple of dresses (prior to the blank check gift) and the dresses the bride liked weren't necessarily the ones her mom liked. And vice versa. Cut to one of the knowledgeable consultants, who have been doing this for years, and they say that it changes the playing field when mom (or anyone else) is paying for the dress. Suddenly, they have a say in what dress you ultimately chose. *Queue sound of needle scratching across record here!* EXCUSE ME?
I have gotten some fantastic one-liner money advice in my lifetime. Here are two examples: "Never invest anything that you are not willing to lose" (Thanks uncle Dan!)and "Always view money you give to family, friends, co-workers or anyone, as a gift that you will never see again." (Thanks dad!) Don't get me wrong, if you give money to someone and they come to you the next day to pay it back, don't turn it down. By all means accept it. But never EXPECT to see it again. I have seen first hand how money has come between friends, family, and others and ruin relationships. SO not worth it.
Over the years I have developed my own views about the giving of money. When you make a decision to give money away, be it to family, friends, or whomever, you also need to be willing to give up ANY say in how they spend it. If a family member comes to you and says, I need $50 to pay my electric bill or they are going to shut off my lights and you give them $50 and they turn around and spend it on beer and cigarettes, so be it. You can always decide to never give them money again. You are not their boss, you are not a bank, you are not their mother (ok, maybe you are their mother, but this is not applicable to a parent who is trying to TEACH fiscal responsibility to an 8 year old). Money should NEVER come with strings attached.
Watching this particular episode, I have no doubt that this mom REALLY just wanted to give her daughter a very generous gift. It made her feel good. But perhaps, in her mind, she thought that her opinion should count for something since she was now paying for the dress. THIS, I have a real problem with. If you were with me when I was shopping for my wedding dress and you generously offered to make my budget unlimited, but there was a stipulation that YOU had to be happy with the dress as well, I would thank you profusely and then graciously return your check.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
The weeks are fast, but time is slow?
I find it very odd how my concept of the passing time can differ so greatly. On the one hand, I really feel as if the WEEKS are going by quickly. Monday-Sunday seems to fly right by. But when I look at the calender, the total time spent here seems to stand still.
As I sit here tonight, listening to gunfire and eating a brownie I wonder if this is what it feels like to live in East L.A.? I hate the gunfire. I haven't gotten used to it. It makes me jump. I can tell it is not intended for us (right now), but I never know when that might change. It takes a toll to be stressed this regularly. I can feel it.
I am sure that my stress is no worse than anyone else's stress. The world today is a stressful place. You never know if you are going to lose your job (and subsequently your income/livelihood), and that is EXTREMELY stressful. Especially if you have a family. People have lost their life savings in the market during this recession and THAT is stressful too. What if they are 60 years old and lost it all? Not like they can go back to work and start over for the next 40 years to make up for it. Those are life-affecting stresses too.
I guess what I am trying to say is that although stress comes in different forms, when you feel it day after day it takes a toll no matter what kind of stress it is. I am looking forward to going home and transitioning from this environment back to my not-so-stressful one. I am also hoping that the time spent here as a whole catches up to the quick pace of the time spent week-to-week.
As I sit here tonight, listening to gunfire and eating a brownie I wonder if this is what it feels like to live in East L.A.? I hate the gunfire. I haven't gotten used to it. It makes me jump. I can tell it is not intended for us (right now), but I never know when that might change. It takes a toll to be stressed this regularly. I can feel it.
I am sure that my stress is no worse than anyone else's stress. The world today is a stressful place. You never know if you are going to lose your job (and subsequently your income/livelihood), and that is EXTREMELY stressful. Especially if you have a family. People have lost their life savings in the market during this recession and THAT is stressful too. What if they are 60 years old and lost it all? Not like they can go back to work and start over for the next 40 years to make up for it. Those are life-affecting stresses too.
I guess what I am trying to say is that although stress comes in different forms, when you feel it day after day it takes a toll no matter what kind of stress it is. I am looking forward to going home and transitioning from this environment back to my not-so-stressful one. I am also hoping that the time spent here as a whole catches up to the quick pace of the time spent week-to-week.
Friday, January 28, 2011
What happens when I go home?
I have not written many posts regarding my deployment. That has actually been intentional. It isn't for a lack of great blog fodder, it is because I have a sensitive job and I would rather err on the side of caution than perhaps write about something that may compromise anyone. Don't get me wrong, I am not James Bond. But better to be safe than sorry.
That said, I have been doing a job that is pretty fricken useful for a lot of people. I have a purpose over here. Opinions on "big picture" aside, the folks that are here need what I am providing to them.
But what happens when I get home? I already knew going in that 90% of what I do at home is bullshit. I am working hard to try and reason it out in my head that I am putting effort into an AFSO21 meeting or some other such malarkey that can only be created by those who have no real mission and must justify their own existence with such drivel, because if I don't I will be unemployed.
I have been trying to build a mental bridge connecting something, ANYTHING, that I do day to day at home, that added any value to the service that I am providing here. I have found none. Nada. Zip. Believe me, I have REALLY looked. Even if just in some small way I could see that what I do back in the clinic directly impacts the mission I currently support. I used to be pretty good at finding that link. Explaining it to the young Airman who worked for me and paint a picture for them about how what they are doing that day adds value to the big picture mission.
But I believe at the job back at home we have lost our way. Lost sight of where our focus needs to be. Lost sight of the question "What value does what I am doing at this very moment add to the mission downrange?"
I am sure this isn't true for everyone. I can't just blanket-label all aspects of the military. I can only speak to what I know and the job I do when I am not deployed. I have long felt this way about the job I do at home, but even I didn't realize how right I was until I got downrange. I guess a part of me hoped I was wrong, but I wasn't.
I have to work. I have to stick this thing out for another 8 and a half years until I retire. I can't just quit. Especially not in this economy. I am grateful to have employment at all. Perhaps that is where I will have to dedicate my focus. The one that will get me through to the finish line while keeping my sanity in tact.
See that? Sometimes just banging it out on a keyboard helps me see the light...
That said, I have been doing a job that is pretty fricken useful for a lot of people. I have a purpose over here. Opinions on "big picture" aside, the folks that are here need what I am providing to them.
But what happens when I get home? I already knew going in that 90% of what I do at home is bullshit. I am working hard to try and reason it out in my head that I am putting effort into an AFSO21 meeting or some other such malarkey that can only be created by those who have no real mission and must justify their own existence with such drivel, because if I don't I will be unemployed.
I have been trying to build a mental bridge connecting something, ANYTHING, that I do day to day at home, that added any value to the service that I am providing here. I have found none. Nada. Zip. Believe me, I have REALLY looked. Even if just in some small way I could see that what I do back in the clinic directly impacts the mission I currently support. I used to be pretty good at finding that link. Explaining it to the young Airman who worked for me and paint a picture for them about how what they are doing that day adds value to the big picture mission.
But I believe at the job back at home we have lost our way. Lost sight of where our focus needs to be. Lost sight of the question "What value does what I am doing at this very moment add to the mission downrange?"
I am sure this isn't true for everyone. I can't just blanket-label all aspects of the military. I can only speak to what I know and the job I do when I am not deployed. I have long felt this way about the job I do at home, but even I didn't realize how right I was until I got downrange. I guess a part of me hoped I was wrong, but I wasn't.
I have to work. I have to stick this thing out for another 8 and a half years until I retire. I can't just quit. Especially not in this economy. I am grateful to have employment at all. Perhaps that is where I will have to dedicate my focus. The one that will get me through to the finish line while keeping my sanity in tact.
See that? Sometimes just banging it out on a keyboard helps me see the light...
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
"Coupons on a first date?"
Y'all know me. I just love headlines. Then I like to just run with them, often times without even reading the accompanying article. Today's headline was no different. The headline said "Coupons on a first date"? At first, I thought "HOW TACKY! He better not break out coupons on our first date!" But then I thought (as I am getting better at doing as I get older,) well, so what if he used a coupon? If you are on a date with a guy who uses coupons, why would you want him to be something he isn't because he is on a date with you? Doesn't that just amount to his being fake?
I have always had a real problem with people putting on fronts. Pretending to be someone they aren't for the sake of appearances. I realize this is one of the biggest reasons I will not get ahead in this world, corporate or otherwise, but I stand true to who I am. I am the person who will call the baby ugly. Take it or leave it.
When it comes to dating, lord knows I am no expert. Eric is the first guy I had "dated" in over 10 years. However I am a pretty good listener and REALLY good at human nature. One thing I would hear time and time again from both men and women is that a person 'changed' once you began a relationship. "He used to make dinner for me, but he doesn't do it any more." "She would want to watch football with me on Sundays. Now suddenly she not only doesn't want to watch it, but she doesn't want ME to watch football either! WTF?"
I got news for you folks, the "change" was dating YOU. They were simply unable to keep up the act and slowly became themselves again. He wasn't the kind of guy who made dinners, and she never liked football to begin with. They were only doing these things to lead you to into believing they were something they weren't from the very beginning.
I was guilty of such things when I was much younger. 20 years ago I led a guy I was dating to believe I liked football. A disservice to myself that I have never repeated. I think, now that I am marrying a man with whom I was friends with before we ever started dating, I can totally relate to the concept of 'friends' making the best couples. There were never any periods of being on our best behavior for the sake of appearances for the other. I didn't wear makeup when we were just friends, and I didn't start wearing any when we became a couple. It took 3 trips to 3 different stores and a weeks worth of research before Eric decided on the right TV for his house. A little much, maybe, but that's ok. It's his TV. He can take whatever time he wants to research it.
I also wouldn't have cared if Eric broke out the coupon book when we went out to dinner after we started dating. If he was the coupon-type, I would have known that already. And that would have been fine by me.
I have always had a real problem with people putting on fronts. Pretending to be someone they aren't for the sake of appearances. I realize this is one of the biggest reasons I will not get ahead in this world, corporate or otherwise, but I stand true to who I am. I am the person who will call the baby ugly. Take it or leave it.
When it comes to dating, lord knows I am no expert. Eric is the first guy I had "dated" in over 10 years. However I am a pretty good listener and REALLY good at human nature. One thing I would hear time and time again from both men and women is that a person 'changed' once you began a relationship. "He used to make dinner for me, but he doesn't do it any more." "She would want to watch football with me on Sundays. Now suddenly she not only doesn't want to watch it, but she doesn't want ME to watch football either! WTF?"
I got news for you folks, the "change" was dating YOU. They were simply unable to keep up the act and slowly became themselves again. He wasn't the kind of guy who made dinners, and she never liked football to begin with. They were only doing these things to lead you to into believing they were something they weren't from the very beginning.
I was guilty of such things when I was much younger. 20 years ago I led a guy I was dating to believe I liked football. A disservice to myself that I have never repeated. I think, now that I am marrying a man with whom I was friends with before we ever started dating, I can totally relate to the concept of 'friends' making the best couples. There were never any periods of being on our best behavior for the sake of appearances for the other. I didn't wear makeup when we were just friends, and I didn't start wearing any when we became a couple. It took 3 trips to 3 different stores and a weeks worth of research before Eric decided on the right TV for his house. A little much, maybe, but that's ok. It's his TV. He can take whatever time he wants to research it.
I also wouldn't have cared if Eric broke out the coupon book when we went out to dinner after we started dating. If he was the coupon-type, I would have known that already. And that would have been fine by me.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Actual conversation...
So this is an actual portion of an IM conversation between myself and my sweeter than honey, albeit ultra-geek fiance:
Eric: xoxo
Oh yeah, one more thing
me: yes baby?
Eric: meant to share this comic with you. This guy has some great geeky comics, so feel free to browse his site, but this christmas one was pretty good...though a warning, it's probably one only a computer geek can appreciate
me: Oh, this oughta be good...clicking now.
me: hmmm...
Is it a flow chart?
I don't get it.
I think you were right...only a computer geek could UNDERSTAND it. No matter what it was suppoesd to be, I can totally relate to his parents!
Eric: In comp sci, trees and heaps are technical terms for data structures, and would be drawn like they are in the comic lol!
me: Oh my.
Eric: xoxo
Oh yeah, one more thing
me: yes baby?
Eric: meant to share this comic with you. This guy has some great geeky comics, so feel free to browse his site, but this christmas one was pretty good...though a warning, it's probably one only a computer geek can appreciate
me: Oh, this oughta be good...clicking now.
me: hmmm...
Is it a flow chart?
I don't get it.
I think you were right...only a computer geek could UNDERSTAND it. No matter what it was suppoesd to be, I can totally relate to his parents!
Eric: In comp sci, trees and heaps are technical terms for data structures, and would be drawn like they are in the comic lol!
me: Oh my.
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