Warthog

Hi, remember me? I know it's been a few months, but I'm that girl. You know, that girl who thought she'd never get a house, who saved her Mac from his suicide attempt, and who moaned for months—nay, years!—at her Marine husband's absence overseas. Yeah, that's me. You've missed me, haven't you? Well you can thank this twenty-something's return to blogging for inspiring me to grace you with my presence again. Really, it's been too long. Let me see if I remember how to do this...

Here's something I found very disturbing. We have some friends here from Maine, and when the wife saw Bryan's razorback baseball cap she asked,"What is Arkansas' mascot? Is it a warthog?" Yeah. A warthog. Oh, how our friend from Texas laughed when she said that. We love our razorbacks, but man is it embarrassing when your mascot is mistaken for a warthog. I kind of wish Arkansas had stuck with their original mascot long ago of the cardinals. At least they're not in the pig family.

A couple blogs down I was upset about not having a house yet. Well I finally got a house not long after that post, but now I want another one! I want a house in Arkansas! I am soooo looking forward to house-hunting in Arkansas this summer. I've already got about 10 homes bookmarked online that I hope will still be on the market in six months. Oh, but there's one little catch. I kinda need to have a job in Arkansas before we will get approved for a mortgage. Minor detail, right? So shoot me a message if you can guarantee me a full-time job six months from now!

Bryan came home and our faces morphed together

Bryan came home Monday night!! And we got our first reunited kiss pictured in the paper:


"The Lord rewards every man for his faithfulness. The Lord delivered you into my hands today…" I Sam 26:23 :o)

Bored Sara = Long Pointless Post

"Hey, it worked! I was afraid I'd have to go through that all over again. I always expect the worst!"

"You shouldn't always expect the worst, that's no way to live! Always expect the best! Always expect the best and see how happy your life becomes!"

The cashier nodded and promised the man in front of me that she'd change her ways as she handed him his receipt. I just caught the tail of this conversation, but it was the way he said that last part that assured me he was either an evangelical preacher or a Dr. Phil idolizer. Either way, both species of men are prone to disillusionment. What kind of history does this man have to make him assume that always expecting the best makes your life happier? It sounds more likely to lead to perpetual disappointment and regret.

In other news:

I still don't have my house. Maybe tomorrow. Or maybe never. See that? I'm far from being an "expect the best" kind of person.

Someone asked me today if my husband was underage. More on that later if it develops into anything interesting.

Bryan's homecoming was pushed back four days. Time to reset all my countdowns again.

Unrelated to the homecoming date changing, the Marines did more very frustrating and stupid things today. I suffer from the same "arrogant independence" that Lady Catherine accused Elizabeth Bennet of having (thanks, Mom), and that doesn't clash well with control-freaks like Darcy's aunt or the Marines. Hmm... the Marines as Lady Catherine de Bourgh... I think I like that analogy. Both have a "dignified impertinence", both assume they know what's best for the man in love with the independent woman, and both try to keep them apart. Now if only Bryan owned land half the size of Darbyshire the analogy would be complete.

"For I know very well what the temptations of the Devil are, and that one of his greatest is to put it into a man's head that he can write and print a book, and gain both money and fame by it."
Don Quixote, Part II, Prologue

For Those Who Wonder About Me

Hm. I forgot about all the noisy jets around here.

I have a house! But I'm only allowed to look, not touch. For some reason Housing deems it necessary to make me wait another week till I can move into this already vacated house that is assigned to me. Of all the houses and all the streets in this neighborhood, we ended up getting a house next door to the one we lived in last year. Crazy, but I'm happy with it. Until I can move in next week, I'm crashing on my friend's floor. She lives conveniently close to a coffee shop.

And until Bryan comes home in about two weeks, I'll be sitting here in Smalltown, USA dying of boredom. I need a job, but unfortunately we're stationed in an area where graphic designers go crazy for want of work. I'd like to stay sane, but my hopes are not high.

Kansas City Curtain Call

Only a few days are left for me here in Kansas City. Then I'll leave this split-level home of six months and begin the journey that takes one month and a thousand miles to get back in Bryan's arms. Of course I'm ecstatic about that last part, but leaving KC will be bittersweet.

Things I will miss about this Midwest home include the adorable 10-month-old who thinks I'm hilarious, the evening neighborhood walks with my preggo sister, the dinners and drinks made by my brother-in-law, the plethora of shops at my city-living fingertips, the Starlight Theater productions, and the nightly viewing of seasons on DVD (currently working through 90210).

Things I will not miss include waiting till naptime to shower, getting my toes crushed by Toby's big paws, and living with roommates who have a higher mess tolerance than me.

I'm sure you're wondering if six months of Flora's cute babyness has convinced this nanny/aunt to give her a cousin as soon as Bryan comes home. The short answer: no. Flora's skills at persuasion have not advanced beyond smiles and laughs. We'll revisit this issue in a few years and see if she can formulate a better argument by then.

Coffee Shop Blogging

Today is my day off Flora duty, so I am here enjoying a 12oz cup of joe and an almond croissant. According to my punch card, this is my eighth coffee here so my next one is free. I have about a week and a half to redeem my free coffee before I begin my journey back to the North Carolina coast. I am so SO excited about moving back! This morning I called the housing office on base and found out that we've moved up on the wait list from #34 two weeks ago to #22 today. Once I'm there it won't be exciting at all because I'll still have a few weeks to wait before Bryan arrives. Those last few weeks will be comprised of the longest days of my life. I wouldn't wish a prolonged separation on any married couple, but the homecoming is so exquisitely exciting that I wish everyone could know the joys of it.

Last weekend my college friends and I had a little reunion in Denver, Colorado. You girls are great! Driving several hours through flat and boring Kansas was slightly redeemed by the ginormous white windmills, fields of sunflowers, and signs for the world's largest prairie dog. Our trip was highlighted by an interrogation of Hannah's new boyfriend, pedicures by a woman who took two dozen pictures of us with my camera, three goofy girls sharing a small fitting room in Macy's, Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2, and... well, you really don't need to know about the best parts. ;)

What's my pseudonym?

It's been over a decade since I attended a young author's conference, but the influence of that elementary school diversion has finally paid off. Today I began my great American novel. It's very pretentious, full of sentences long enough to fill a page, and even a few brand new words which I made up just to serve my purposes. All attributes of a celebrated classic. But don't expect to get any sneak previews of my literary masterpiece. It will take at least ten years to write and revise a novel as thick as the Bible and twice as confusing as Shakespeare. When it is finally finished I will lock it away in a safety deposit box only to be published upon my death. It's a fail-proof plan for success.

Lately I've been beside myself with anticipation of going back to North Carolina this month, finally getting on the housing wait list, and looking into available jobs on base--all signs of Bryan's eminent return from Iraq! The closer it gets the longer the days seem to strrreeetch. I can't wait!!

Crafting with Flora

Per your request, here is a picture of Flora in her "I Love My Nanny" bib that I designed for her. Another project recently inspired by my boredom was to make the letters of her name to hang on her wall. I first traced and cut the letter shapes out of styrofoam. Then I used hot-glue (the duct tape for women) to wrap the sides in white fabric.


Finally I filled the exposed styrofoam with artificial flowers, courtesy of Joann's 70% off clearance bin. The result is very colorful and fun, but it still hasn't quite made it to her wall yet!

Mac's Middle Name is Lazarus

It was very still and dark last Thursday night, yet I had no impending sense of the doom about to befall. I sat at my desk playing Text Twist while I waited for Bryan to come online. Around 11pm I heard Skype's musical queue and abandoned my word scrambling to answer Bryan's call. Then it happened. Everything... stopped. Mac's screen turned pale gray like a face on a deathbed. His last words, "You must restart." I obediently turned him off, but he made no effort to turn back on for me. I felt like a doctor duped into an assisted suicide. I grasped his metal casing which I never cleaned or loved enough during his short life and cried, "Don't leave me!! You can't leave me like this!!" That night I repeatedly tried to turn Mac on, but it was too late. The flatline was buzzing; Mac was gone.

I went to bed dreading the arrangements I'd have to make for Mac's remains in the morning. At least I had finally (for the first time) backed up all my data last month. I thought about how kind it was that God didn't let me lose all my digital photos and illustrations. I'm sure those things are not essential to His life-plan for me, but he made sure I had them backed up before this happened. I was touched. We had a moment.

Friday morning I groggily stumbled to my desk out of habit and opened up Mac--then I sighed remembering the night before. One more try... I pressed the button and plastered my ear to the keyboard hoping to hear the whirring sounds of life inside. I did! I was shocked! I waited and watched as Mac started up just fine. I half expected to see him display an error message that said "Psych!" I never knew Mac was a prankster, but he got me good that night. I'm already thinking of ways that I can get him back--like downloading Windows Media Player or pricing new Macs online.

Independence Day

One sunny afternoon I pulled in to Wal-Mart and found a parking space. As occasionally happens, my timing was just awkward enough that I came around the back of my car just in time to intercept another pedestrian heading for the doors. I didn't look closely at him, but my initial glance told me that he was older with a strong gait. He must've glanced my way too, because he noticed the "Marines" sticker on my car and said, "Are you in the Marines?" I smiled a little and considered saying yes, but instead opted for the truth and told him no, it's my husband who is the Marine. "Ah. Well tell him I said thank you for serving our country." To which I replied, "That's very considerate of you and yes, he deserves your thanks, but what am I? Chopped liver? Does a military wife not deserve your thanks, too? I put my wedding, my career, and my life on hold because I chose to love and support that man who's serving our country. I keep his morale high so that he doesn't become part of the statistic that Marines have the highest suicide rate of any military branch. I put up with all the crappy aspects of the military like ever-changing homecoming dates, rules that don't make sense, and moving cross-country every few years. I didn't sign a five-year contract that requires me to put up with all this; I'm voluntarily letting the Marines run my life because I know my husband needs me. My husband is the hero, but if he was here and not in Iraq he'd tell you to thank me, too, for making so many sacrifices and sticking by his side through everything we've endured together for the sake of service to our country."

Ok, so I didn't really say that whole last part, but I wanted to. When you're thanking a military hero, don't forget to also thank their spouse for persevering in a position that many could not handle. But please, do not thank me. I'm not asking for recognition from my family and friends who already know my plight...that would be a little weird. :) Next year I will no longer be a military wife, and I just hope that I won't forget the experience in years to come. And if I ever thank a military wife for her husband's service, I hope that I won't forget to thank her, too.