tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56460073520717864292024-03-14T01:11:07.890-04:00Such is the Life of an Army WifeUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger71125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-22799263979252877532013-04-05T11:01:00.001-04:002013-04-05T11:04:21.192-04:00Women, Find Husbands. . .Circa 1950?Last week I was watching CNN and I caught an interview with a woman named Susan Patton who wrote a letter to Princeton University's campus newspaper about how women should find a husband while in college. <a href="http://thedailyprincetonian.wordpress.com/2013/03/29/opinion-letter-to-the-editor-march-29-2013/">See Susan's letter here</a>. <a href="http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/bestoftv/2013/04/01/exp-erin-princeton-mom-to-students-find-a-husband.cnn">See the CNN interview with Susan here.</a><br />
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In my opinion Susan was ridiculed in the interview by pseudo-feminists who were appalled at the antiquated notion that women should find a husband while still in their undergrad years, which essentially equates to women roughly between the ages of 18 - 22 years old. I have to admit that at first, without even reading the letter or hearing what Susan had to say about the intent of her letter, I too was appalled at the idea that women should step back 60+ years to a time when the most important thing a woman did in her life was find a husband, keep a home, and bear children. But then I listened to what she was really saying, and I went to read her letter. Susan says in her letter, <i>"For most of you, the cornerstone of your future and happiness will be inextricably linked to the man you marry. You will never again be surrounded by this concentration of men who are worthy of you."</i> I do not find her words to be anti-feminist or antiquated in any way. In fact I believe that the underlying message and spirit of her letter is truthful, and well founded.<br />
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First of all, I am not a Princeton graduate but I have been married to the same man for nearly a decade. I will openly, and willingly admit that yes, my happiness and my future is indeed linked to my husband. As an Army family the effects of his choices and career are life changing for me, and for our children. Because we choose to share our lives in marriage, we are connected. What affects him, affects me.<br />
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Secondly, we live in a society today where for some reason many women are actually <i><b>devaluing</b></i> themselves. We allow ourselves to become overly sexualized and objectified via television, magazines, movies, and yes, porn. Nudity, nakedness and the objectifying of women has become so common place, and most of us are so desensitized to it that we barely even notice the problem. How often do you flip through channels to see some women shaking her bikini clad butt or breasts for the camera? We've allowed pregnant teenagers to become D-list celebrities, trashy 20-somethings wearing barely there clothing spewing profanity, engaging in graphic sexual activity, and fist fighting on camera. THESE are the women we want our daughters to look up to as their "feminist" role models?<br />
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It is for this reason that I see no problem with what Ms. Patton said in her letter. If you listen to her in her interview, she says that her intent is not solely for women to <b>get married</b> while still in college, but to find a <i>potential</i> spouse during that time frame. I don't think that Susan Patton's message applies solely to Princeton University students either. I think it applies to every intelligent, goal oriented woman who has dreams not only of having a career, but of having a marriage as well. What's wrong with sending a message to women and girls to find a husband that is worthy of them? Why shouldn't we encourage our daughters to find a life partner who is their intellectual equal? Women and girls should be encouraged to find a partner who is smart, supportive, and well rounded. We should be encouraging our daughters to find someone who is going to add something to, and compliment their lives, not drag them down. We expect our girls to to start planning for their careers by the time they hit their freshman year in college by deciding on a major and studying accordingly. They are the prepared for 4 years, at the least, to enter the workforce in their chosen field. We teach them how to write a resume, how to interview for a prospective job, and more. Why should we<b> not</b> also encourage these women to find a good, positive partner?<br />
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Women and girls have been indoctrinated to believe that we can, "have it all". When we challenge our daughters to be active in extra curricular activities, get good grades, get into a good school, or find a great job, not to settle for the ok one that pays less, we're hailed as progressive, or feminist, or advocates for the advancement of women. But when we encourage our daughters to find a spouse who is her equal, we're pigeon-holed as being old fashioned, or anti feminist. Certainly I'm not saying that college is the <i>only</i> place to find such a partner. Nor am I claiming that intelligence is the highest quality a potential spouse can posses. I am saying that I believe Susan's overall message is for women NOT to settle for something less than what they deserve.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-73244127693273333862013-03-14T21:58:00.001-04:002013-03-15T05:28:21.189-04:00A Letter To Mr. David Wood at the Huffington PostI wrote this letter yesterday in response to Mr. Wood's article about DOD spending on military pay, and benefits. You can find the content of his article here:<br />
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<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/01/30/defense-budget-cuts_n_2584099.html">http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/01/30/defense-budget-cuts_n_2584099.html</a><br />
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Dear Mr. Wood,<br />
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My name is Stephanie Monroe. I am an Army wife of 9 ½ years.
I have been sending my husband off to war for over a decade. I currently live
on Kadena Air Base, Okinawa Japan with my husband and 2 children. I would like
to respond to an editorial you wrote where you claim that the U.S. government
“lavished money on the nation’s 1.3 million active-duty troops and their
Families”. I would like to address some of the statements that you made.</div>
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The men and women of our military are the hardest working 1%
of our national population. Our military has been at war for over a decade and
has done everything our nation has asked of them, many making the ultimate
sacrifice. <b><i>Only 1%</i></b> of our population chooses to serve on Active Duty
Status. I don’t see anyone else volunteering to lead this life. So to insinuate
their salaries and benefits are undeservingly far above that of civilian
counterparts is an ignorant statement. </div>
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Lets discuss base pay. The average enlisted soldier actually
brings home far less than you have stated. An E-1 (Private) earns an annual
base pay of $18,192 before taxes. An E-5 (Sergeant) earns an annual base pay of
roughly $30,348 before taxes. An E-9 (Sergeant Major/Command Sergeant Major)
earns an annual base pay of $64,284 before taxes. An O-1 (2<sup>nd</sup>
Lieutenant) earns an annual base pay of $43,428 before taxes. An O-5 (Major)
with 6 years of service earns an annual base pay of roughly $69,296 before
taxes. The bonuses that you speak of are compensation for undergoing further
and specialized training such as the grueling Ranger School, Officer Candidate
School, or being proficient in certain skills. Not every service member chooses
to do this. Nor is every service member capable of doing this.</div>
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Certainly as one climbs in the ranks, one’s base pay salary
rises as well. We can equate this to a civilian entering a corporation or firm
at entry level, or with a college degree, and as they receive promotions and
climb up the corporate ladder, their salary increases. We do need to remember
however, that most members of the service are enlisted. There are far fewer
Sergeants Major and Captains in the ranks than there are Privates and Corporals.
The majority of our fighting forces are comprised of junior enlisted personnel.
Keep in mind what we’ve been asking our enlisted to do. They deploy for months
at a time to dangerous locations. They work weekends, holidays, through
injuries, illnesses, they watch their friends get maimed or die in combat. And
they do it again, and again. Certainly that is deserving of the tax breaks
afforded to deployed military personnel. As it would seem, you would prefer for
military paychecks to remain the same even as the cost of housing, food, and
other goods continue to rise.</div>
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If we include Basic Allowance for Housing (BAH) the money
that a service member makes annually goes up a substantial amount. However, it
must be taken into consideration that our BAH rates depend upon two things,
rank and location. If you are a service member who is living and doing your job
in the New York City area your BAH is going to be markedly higher than a
soldier serving at Ft. Benning, Georgia, or Ft. Polk Louisiana. </div>
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Let’s take Ft. Benning for example. An E-1 with a family is
allotted $1230/month in BAH if they choose to live off post. An E-5 with a
family is allotted $1305/month. An E-9 with a family is allotted 1725/month. An
O-1 with a family is allotted $1311/month. An O-5 with a family is allotted $
1923/month. It is with this housing stipend that most service members just want
to provide a good house in a safe neighborhood that is near good schools for
their family. Utilities and luxuries such as cable TV, Internet, and phone
service are at the cost of the service member. I challenge you Mr. Wood to take
the $1305 allotted to “the
average” service member and try to find a house that suits you, your wife, and
your 2 children. (The average service member does have a family after all.) The
house has to be in a safe neighborhood and a good school district.</div>
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Certainly the service member can choose to live in
installation housing. But on base housing is something that most service
members and their families have learned not to count on. Many times upon
arrival to a new installation, the housing is full. So a family is put on a
waiting list. The wait depends on the length of the list, and housing
availability. A family could wait anywhere from a few weeks to several months
for a house. The next issue with installation housing is age and condition. At
many of the installations where my husband and I have lived, much of the
housing has been old, degraded, and badly in need of renovations. New housing
and renovations are underway at installations around the country and the world,
but a lot of families are still living in aging homes many of which are beyond
repair. Some of the issues that older housing units have include asbestos, lead
paint, mold, cracks in the foundation, and vermin or insect infestations. My
husband and I actually lived in a house on Ft. Benning that had been built in
the 1930’s. We had to sign an asbestos waver acknowledging that there was
asbestos contained in the ceiling of our residence. Our current home on Kadena
Air Base in Okinawa Japan had a recent radon reading of 5.3. The acceptable
level is 4. Other homes on Kadena AB have problems with poisonous black mold
permeating the dry wall, and cracks in the foundations that allow water to
enter the home during the rainy season and typhoon season, the 2 seasons
together make up 6 months out of the year. Perhaps some might consider it
lavish to update, repair, and build new, safe living quarters for our service
members and their families. </div>
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I would also like to mention that our children who attend
school on military installations will be furloughed starting April 31<sup>st</sup>,
every Friday for the remainder of the fiscal year, which ends September 30<sup>th</sup>
2013. So military children will be receiving fewer education hours than their
non-military peers. Is it lavish spending to provide our children with quality
education? </div>
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Our civilian healthcare providers contracted through the DOD
to work at installation hospitals and clinics will also be furloughed for some
22 working days, leaving military personnel and their families with less access
to healthcare. This is healthcare that service members DO pay for, for their
family members.</div>
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Perhaps I should consider it a luxury that when my husband
got shot in the back in combat in 2005 his new body armor saved his life
instead of leaving me a widow. Maybe it is extravagant that my husband’s Humvees,
Bradleys, and other vital equipment have been well maintained and are in working
order so he could safely and competently complete his missions while deployed
to Iraq and Afghanistan. Perhaps it’s over reaching to make certain that my
husband and his men are the most well trained soldiers in the world so the next
time they get into a firefight with enemy forces they all come home alive.</div>
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Mr. Wood, I invite you to come stay with my family in our
small 3 bedroom on-base townhouse the next time my husband deploys. You will
have to sleep on the couch however as our “lavish” accommodations do not allow
for a guest area. You will be able to witness first hand the “luxurious”
conditions under which we live while my husband is gone. I invite you to be
present as my husband kisses his children goodbye, telling our 5 year old that
he’s “the man of the house now” and my daughter cries like her heart is
breaking because Daddy is leaving again. I invite you to watch as I hug my
husband for what very well could be the last time. You can bear witness as I
attend parent teacher conferences, sporting events, pay our taxes, deal with
car and home repairs, pay bills, grocery shop, rush sick children to the ER,
take care of our yard, clean the house, do the laundry, fill Easter baskets, or
stuff stockings by myself. Again. You can be witness to the utter frustration
felt when a phone call is missed. You will be able to be there when we get word
of an injury or a death. You can watch the toll that 10+ years of this takes,
as we all know it easily could have been “my soldier”. I will let <b><i>you</i></b>
come up with an answer when my 5 year old asks, “are bad guys are going to kill
my daddy”. You’ll get to see on the nights I cry myself to sleep because the day has been
just a little too much and in addition to it I constantly carry the burden of worry
and fear that my husband may not return. You can witness as I struggle some
days to keep it all together while I try to raise balanced, mentally and
emotionally healthy children alone. I suppose one could consider it lavish that
service members and their families have access to mental healthcare as we attempt
to deal with the rigors of deployment again, and again, and again, and again.</div>
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Perhaps, Mr. Wood, you should go visit military
installations and see first hand some of the degraded housing you expect us to
subject our children to. Would you live there? Maybe you should sit down for an
hour or two and actually speak with the spouses and children of deployed
service members. Actually listen to what they have to say about the lavish life
you feel we’ve been afforded. Maybe you should take a tour of a Wounded
Warriors unit and ask yourself what you might expect as compensation for your
arms, or your legs, or your skin. Mr. Wood, I suggest that you research further
the conditions under which the military community truly lives before you
conclude what our service members and their families are worth, based on a poor
interpretation of pay scales and housing charts.</div>
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Sources:</div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->1.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><a href="http://www.goarmy.com/benefits/money/basic-pay-active-duty-soldiers.html">http://www.goarmy.com/benefits/money/basic-pay-active-duty-soldiers.html</a></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->2.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><a href="http://www.defensetravel.dod.mil/Docs/perdiem/browse/Allowances/BAH/PDF/2013/2013-With-Dependents-BAH-Rates.pdf">http://www.defensetravel.dod.mil/Docs/perdiem/browse/Allowances/BAH/PDF/2013/2013-With-Dependents-BAH-Rates.pdf</a></div>
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<o:p>I did receive a response from Mr. Wood this morning. Here is what he had to say.</o:p></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Dear Ms. Monroe,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Thank you for taking the time to write a thoughtful and well researched letter. Thank you and your husband and two children for your service as part of the less-than-1 percent of Americans who choose the military as a profession.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I don't take issue with anything you've said here. In 35 years of covering the military I've deployed many times, gotten to know military families, am familiar with military housing and living conditions. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">The fact is, though, and the point of the article was, that military life has improved vastly since the end of the draft and the introduction of the "all-volunteer force" in 1974. I have never written that military life is easy or luxurious, but I have seen the improvements (not perfect!) in those things I mentioned -- salaries and benefits, housing, day care and so forth.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">In my personal view that money has been well spent, enabling the very hard work of those in uniform (and the families behind them) and giving us the finest military the world has ever seen.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">And yet, the furloughs from DoD schools are a chilling harbinger of things to come, from what I hear on Capitol Hill and at the Pentagon. Harder times are coming and rising personnel costs are going to be a target. Of course the country knows and appreciates the sacrifices you have made in a decade of war. We needn't argue that point. The issue is, what now? That's the point I wanted to raise. Perhaps a smaller active-duty force is part of the answer; perhaps fewer big-ticket acquisition programs. I don't know. But we need to have the discussion.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">And it sounds to me as if you'd like to be part of that discussion. One way (even if it takes holding your nose) is to post your letter as a comment on my story. Or you could write a blog post for us -- and I can help with that if you'd like. I have done that for other military spouses.. There are other places that would be grateful for your input. But your insights are important and should be heard.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Respectfully</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">David</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I responded back with the following,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">Dear Mr. Wood,</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">
Thank you for such a prompt response. I disagree however that the point of your article was "that military life has improved vastly since the end of the draft and the introduction of the "all-volunteer force" in 1974." The initial title of your article was "After a Decade of Lavish Benefits Defense Personnel Fear Cuts" before it was changed to its current title. The intent of your article seemed much closer to attempting to prove how military pay and benefits are a huge part of our national spending problem. Indeed the DOD has greatly improved living conditions for service members and their families. But I think you forget there are still people who remember life before these improvements, and do not want to see the military go down that path again. The result would be, as a good friend and fellow military wife put it, a "mass exodus" of well trained and experienced military personnel in favor of less stressful civilian jobs, effectively gutting our fighting forces. While I certainly agree that spending cuts must be made in all sectors, I disagree that it should first and foremost be made on the backs of the military and their families. Especially while we still have people dying in Afghanistan. One can most decidedly see this is the case considering roughly 42% of the Sequestration cuts came out of the DOD's budget while sparing other programs. We all know what these other programs are and that they could do with major reform and spending cuts before attacking the well-being of our military community. </div>
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Mr. Wood I encourage you to read a blog post by Tony Carr in response to your article. You can find the post here: <a href="http://www.jqpublic-blog.com/?p=212" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer;" target="_blank">http://www.jqpublic-blog.com/?p=212</a></div>
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I will be more than happy to post my email to you as a response to your story. Thank you for your time and your response to my email.</div>
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<div style="background-color: white; color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">
Stephanie Monroe</div>
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<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-68343002888970817232013-03-03T21:39:00.001-05:002013-03-03T21:39:34.675-05:00Why You Should Care About SequestrationOne word. Money. For those of you who don't keep up with politics <i>(you really should)</i> a little something called sequestration kicked in a couple of days ago. Sequestration is the mandatory cutting of the government's budget across the board. Or so they say. But "across the board" really means very different things to them, and to us. "Across the board" means, to me, that they take a little bit from the budget of each and every program currently funded by the government. What "across the board" means to them, is sparing nearly no expense for the entitlement programs, and the majority of the Sequestration budget being cut directly from the military. Of the entitlement programs that will be affected WIC, and Low Income Home Energy Assistance Program are included.<br />
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The 2013 sequestration cuts total 84.5 billion dollars. Here is the basic breakdown of where the money is being cut.<br />
- $42.7 billion from the defense budget <i>(thats us military people. ALL of us, families too)</i><br />
- $28.7 billion in domestic discretionary spending<br />
- $9.9 billion in Medicare<br />
- $4 billion in other mandatory spending<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>source: </i></span><i><a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/wonkblog/wp/2013/02/20/the-sequester-absolutely-everything-you-could-possibly-need-to-know-in-one-faq/">http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/wonkblog/wp/2013/02/20/the-sequester-absolutely-everything-you-could-possibly-need-to-know-in-one-faq/</a></i><br />
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I do not know or understand what these cuts mean for programs like Medicare, but I do know what it means for our military. In a thorough discussion with my husband there<i> are</i> places the military could make cuts. But right now all I know is this. Our DoD civilian employees are going to be furloughed. Most notably that means our teachers for our base schools, and our healthcare workers for our base hospitals. This includes overseas workers. This WILL start to take effect in April, giving our government yet another window of time to stop it by coming to an alternative agreement.<br />
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Let's make this just a bit more personal shall we? That means, my son, who attends an on-base elementary school, will be receiving LESS educational hours than his non-military peers due to the mandatory furlough of his teachers. It also means that me and my children will receive LESS access to quality healthcare, including longer waits for treatments, appointments, and procedures due to the furlough of our civilian healthcare staff. Now throw into the mix that I'm going to be having a baby.<br />
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I don't know about you, but I am angry. I am furious. This makes my blood boil. I am so angry that I don't even know what to do with myself!! I am stuck on this tiny island in the middle of the ocean when all I want to do is scream from the rooftops how ridiculous this is!! If I were home I could and would be doing more than writing a blog and some letters.<br />
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The sheer audacity of our government to cut necessary programs from our military and their families is twisted, and sick. Our military is the hardest working 1% of the population of our country and <i style="font-weight: bold;">this</i> is how they, and their families who sacrifice so much are rewarded for the last 12 years of war?<br />
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And so I ask, WHERE are the budget cuts from the welfare program? WHERE are the budget cuts from the food stamp program? WHERE are the budget cuts from the programs that fund people who sacrifice very little for their nation? WHERE?!?<br />
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If you're anything like me, you've thrown your hands into the air and feel utterly helpless. The people that have been elected to represent us have not done their jobs!! In fact, the Senate has not passed a budget in nearly 4 years despite the fact that they are legally required to do so!! However there is no penalty for <b>not</b> passing a budget! WHY?? Where are our leaders and why are they not doing what they've been entrusted to do?<br />
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Our government borrows 40 cents for every dollar they spend. Clearly cuts need to be made. By why, I ask, why is the majority of the money being taken away from a military that has spent over a decade at war? We still have people being killed in Afghanistan, and our government deems it necessary to cut from the military first? Why are we as a people not doing more to demand a solution to this? Have we become SO complacent that we just don't care?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-58980652189779314752012-08-31T01:52:00.003-04:002012-08-31T01:57:04.296-04:00Typhoon Bolaven. . . The End.I have to say I'm sorry that it's taken me a week to write about the rest of the typhoon. One of the reasons is that we lost power in the middle of the night and were without it for 15 hours. While being without electricity for 15 hours is annoying, irritating, and infuriating, especially considering that my neighbors down the hill still had theirs, it could hardly be considered a hardship in comparison to what <i>could</i> have happened. Also, my son starts school after the Labor Day weekend and we've been very busy preparing for that.<br />
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So here are my thoughts on the beast that was Bolaven. First of all, it was not nearly as bad (for us) as they made it out to be. Its intensity diminished a bit right before it hit us, which isn't really saying much once the winds get over 100 mph. It was downgraded to a Cat. 3, but then back up to a 4 as the eye was approaching and within a few hundred miles of the island. My family lives up on top of a hill so you'd think that would make the winds worse for us. But our building is protected by a retaining wall on two sides, and another building on a third, which really muted the worst of it for us. It was actually louder upstairs where the winds and rain had easier access to smash up against the windows, than it was downstairs which is a bit more protected. I can only imagine what it was like for folks who live right on the beach. Aside from our power outage we had no real significant damage in my neighborhood. A few saplings didn't make it, and there were some small downed branches, but everyone's windows, and cars survived. Several people did experience leaking and flooding, but we got lucky and did not.<br />
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I did learn a few things from this though. My typhoon preparedness skills are not totally lacking. We had more than enough food and water and batteries. We'd have been fine for a few days!! My husband's grill, which I had to tie down to our patio and sandbag, didn't move an inch, nor did our garbage can which received similar treatment since I refused to bring either item inside my house. Next time though I will make <b>absolutely certain</b> that we have <u>multiple</u> computers, ipads, iphones, etc powered up and use only one of them at a time, and use them sparingly. I'm also considering purchasing a second Leap Frog Leap Pad for my daughter so that BOTH kids have one for such occasions. My kids were bonkers with boredom! We did everything we could think of! We played board games, cards, did arts and crafts, played tic-tac-toe and other various games of that sort. We played hide and seek, did gymnastics in the living room, put on a play, read books, took naps, played with the dog, and so much more. But by 2 PM they'd had enough and so had I! That's not to say we can't live without technology, it's just that when we do live without technology we're usually able to leave the house. <i>Anywho,</i> the stress and pressure of having to instantaneously come up with new activities to keep a 2 and 5 year old entertained prompted me to crack open a bottle of wine around about noon, and I ran out around 4. Lesson learned. Next time, buy more wine. Not to get drunkity drunk drunk, per say, but a glass an hour to take the edge off would be ideal. And all those who know me well, know that I have a perpetual stick up my ass thus, wine <i>(during a 15 hour power outage whilst stuck in the house with 2 children and having no chance of leaving, hiding, or escape, and having my husband gone)</i> is an asset.<br />
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Another thing that my first typhoon experience taught me is that our houses rock. They're made out of concrete and can withstand just about anything. The sounds of the wind gusts and the rain running into our house at 100+ mph were quite loud, we could barely hear the rest of the storm. . . until our power went out. . . and with our tv on you'd have to look outside to really believe there was a typhoon occurring outside. Builders and contractors on the eastern seaboard should really take some advice from the Japanese on how to build hurricane proof houses. Sure you can get hurricane proof windows and doors, but when your house is made of <strike>matchsticks</strike> wood as opposed to concrete, yeah, it's probably gonna get destroyed. It would be much safer for residents and cheaper for insurance purposes if coastal houses from the Texas Gulf Coast, around through the Florida Keys, and all the way up to oh, say, Virginia, were made the way ours are. Just my opinion.<br />
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So with all of that said I wasn't able to get the photos or videos I wanted to be able to show you because the worst of Bolaven came raging through in the middle of the night which is why we lost power at 3 AM. While we were relatively protected from the wrath during both the front and backside of the storm, here are some pictures of what the rest of the island experienced. <i>(the following photographs are not mine, therefore I do not claim credit)</i><br />
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<i><br /></i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-25239259935316872522012-08-25T07:23:00.000-04:002012-08-25T07:23:22.676-04:00The Impending Wrath of Typhoon Bolaven Diary 7:00 PM<b><i>Saturday August 25 7:00 PM</i></b><br />
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<i>As the sun sets, and the darkness sets in there is an erie calm settling in. Stepping outside the air is thick and heavy. If I didn't already know, I'd swear that something big was coming. There are moments when things are absolutely still, not a leaf out of place, and then in next second the wind gusts so that it looks as though the trees above my retaining wall are going to blow sideways. It's like when I was growing up in Wisconsin, right before a tornado would hit, everything would be absolutely silent and still. </i><br />
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<i>My poor dog is a testament to the gusts of wind, his long white fur whooshes around his face and legs as he tries to sniff the air. I think he too senses the storm. He usually prowls around in the yard making sure that his territory hasn't been violated by other dogs in the neighborhood, most particularly the dog next-door. Instead he does his thing, and comes immediately inside.</i><br />
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<i>There isn't any rain yet, but there are brief patches of blue sky, only to be instantly covered by the low, gray, rolling clouds. It's as though Bolaven is saying, "Rest easy, I'm not quite ready." even though we've already been warned. For now, we'll sit and be safe, the worst is yet to come.</i><br />
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<i><br /></i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-57770621573251546032012-08-25T02:10:00.002-04:002012-08-25T02:21:50.290-04:00The Impending Wrath of Typhoon BolavenOne caveat of living on a small sub-tropical island especially in this part of the world is the frequent occurrence of typhoons, aka tropical cyclones, aka hurricanes. Call it what you will, I've never lived through a hurricane. Despite the fact that my husband and I lived on the southern seaboard for 7 years, I've still never seen a hurricane. If an impending hurricane is projected to be bad enough, cities in the path of destruction evacuate. Well, here on Okinawa there is no where to go. So you ride out the storm in your concrete cinder block house and hope for the best!<br />
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So far this year there have been several near misses, all for which I am thankful. I knew that luck and nature wouldn't hold. But I never expected this. I suppose I should have! Thus, here we are on the verge of being slammed into by what is being called the worst typhoon Okinawa has seen in 13 years.<br />
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I've heard horror stories from friends about water coming through minuscule cracks in the walls, projectiles flying through our "typhoon proof" windows, windows bowing inward, lamp posts and trees demolishing cars, being without power for hours - days. . . and this one is supposed to be worse. The worst. This big bitch is packing sustained winds upwards of 130mph!! - <i>I think I've just soiled myself.</i><br />
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Here is the projected timeline that Bolaven is on.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">-- Sustained 35-mph winds and greater, 8 a.m. Saturday.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">-- Sustained 40-mph winds and greater, 7 p.m. Saturday.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">-- Sustained 58-mph winds and greater, 3 a.m. Sunday.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">-- Maximum 138-mph sustained winds and 167-mph gusts, 2 to 5 p.m. Sunday.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">-- Winds diminishing below 58 mph, 11 p.m. Sunday.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">-- Winds diminishing below 40 mph, 7 a.m. Monday.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">-- Winds diminishing below 35 mph, 6 p.m. Monday.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">I can't even conceive of what 130mph+ winds are like. Can you? So, we have lots of water, our fridge and freezer are on the coldest setting, a bathtub is filled with water, there's lots of nonperishable food items in the pantry, batteries, flashlights, and we're all set!! </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">To stay occupied and sane during what I'm told is the inevitability that we'll be without power at some point, I'm going to do my best to take lots of pictures and videos of this storm. I've got a limited view from where I live, but we've got lots of fun, fun trees in our backyard! Surely one of them will uproot and make for some good footage!!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">So here is the start of my "Typhoon Bolaven Diary".</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;"><i><b>Saturday August 25 3:00 pm.</b></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;"><i>We woke up this morning to some sunshine and blue sky. Throughout the morning and early afternoon the clouds have been rolling in and moving at a pretty quick clip. Occasionally we can see some patches of blue sky, and there have been some small sprinkle showers. So far the winds on the ground aren't too bad. Breezy, maybe a good day to fly a kite if we didn't know what was coming. Though the sky is getting darker and the winds are starting to pick up.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;"><i>I've got everything tied down and sandbagged so I hope we're good with that. There are some things I just couldn't bring inside the house. However a few of my neighbors STILL haven't dealt with their garbage cans and recycle stuff. If it comes down to it I just may go put their shit on their doorstep, ring the bell and walk away. If I find their trash all over my yard, I'll walk it all over to their doorway anyway. . . </i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;"><i>According to the radar and websites I check, the outer bands of the storm are just approaching Okinawa now. The winds will pick up over night and we'll see what we see. At the moment it seems it's the calm before the storm.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">Stay tuned! And stay safe Okinawa!!</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-68023640198933137182012-07-09T03:18:00.000-04:002012-07-09T03:18:14.009-04:00Secrets Secrets. . .<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS_PQPWvF04vaBsIAEwLdHqUXcFFBCR6sw-5pd_2kPyuPAV8aAyXY-Tqwcx9k1bQMb8mKGVHOsa4ZZujCrz6tB2zxFd6lAYMkuTVR5f2fCJooMqbdPiCN-3TgxoiYaK-aik-GXaUp1ZMU/s1600/6a00d8341c562c53ef010536d16a83970b-800wi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS_PQPWvF04vaBsIAEwLdHqUXcFFBCR6sw-5pd_2kPyuPAV8aAyXY-Tqwcx9k1bQMb8mKGVHOsa4ZZujCrz6tB2zxFd6lAYMkuTVR5f2fCJooMqbdPiCN-3TgxoiYaK-aik-GXaUp1ZMU/s320/6a00d8341c562c53ef010536d16a83970b-800wi.jpg" width="209" /></a>OPSEC. Military speak for "Operational Security". This is a well know phrase across all branches of the military. Since the day I met my husband he has drilled it into my head over, and over, and over, about OPSEC. I am not to speak, post, email, or text any information that will identify him, his unit, when or where they are going, their capabilities, or anything about their mission in general. It's the old World War II adage, "<i>Lose Lips Sink Ships!</i>" Call me paranoid if you like, but that saying still rings true today, and one misplaced piece of information, no matter how innocently shared, <i style="font-weight: bold;">can</i> have consequences.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; clear: left; color: black; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">In today's information age, the world is certainly a smaller place. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">Most of us use Facebook, or have blogs, or use Twitter, or any other social networking site we use to stay in touch with each other. Nearly anything you could want to know about or have is available to you through a few key strokes. If you know how to get it. In today's military OPSEC is just as important as it was then, it's just more of a challenge.</span><br />
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If you're a wife like me, you're proud of your husband's accomplishments. You want him to be recognized, maybe even applauded for all of his hard work. It's human nature to want to be praised for your actions, and want the same for your loved ones. It can also be very easy to forget about watching what you say when your husband leaves for a deployment, or when he comes home. I'm not perfect and have been guilty of this a few times. You <i>want </i>to share those moments of frustration or joy with those closest to you. But sometimes a military spouse <b>must</b> stay silent.<br />
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As military spouses we are oftentimes privy to information that the rest of the world is not. Some units in our military are more secretive than others, therefore OPSEC will be stressed even more for those soldiers and spouses. Those of you affiliated with the "more secretive" units <i>know</i> who you are, but that doesn't mean the rest of the world needs to know too. No matter which unit your spouse is a part of, and whether we like it or not, military spouses have a great responsibility <i style="font-weight: bold;">not </i>to disclose any of the information we have.<br />
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I've seen cases where the mainstream media publishes a story or article about what specific units in our military "do". This still does not give us license to name names, locations, or anything else. The published media piece was most likely approved by the unit's command, but any information <i>you </i>give regarding the article or the unit is not. Keeping certain things secret is what keeps our soldiers safe, and gives our military its edge.<br />
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Some spouses may think I am being hyper-paranoid about OPSEC, but it's a touchy subject for me. If it deals with the safety and security of my husband and the men he works with, my lips are sealed. When in doubt about whether or not to share, I choose not. That way <i>if</i> something happens, I don't even have to <i>question</i> if it was because of me.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-77036145072074504522012-06-26T08:58:00.001-04:002012-06-26T08:58:49.301-04:00Penis Cookies - What Happens When Mommy Isn't Paying Attention<i>I have to put a disclaimer in here before I begin to tell this story. In my defense, it was really hot outside, the kids were <b>done</b>, and I was exhausted from lack of sleep. Sooo. . . </i><div>
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Most of the time I really like living here. We've been here almost a year but there are still times when I definitely feel like a fish out of water. I don't speak the language, and I can't read most of the advertisements, or packaging on anything when we're out in town. This makes life challenging sometimes, and quite entertaining as well!</div>
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My friend and I decided to take her sister who is visiting the island, down to Kokusai Dori, or International Street. It's a lovely shopping street in Naha that has open front stores that sell everything. And I do mean everything. I was super excited because I've been wanting to go back there since my husband and I took my parents last Christmas. It's really a new experience every time you go. There is always something different to see. I absolutely love it there.</div>
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As you wander down Kokusai Dori, occasionally you will see covered allies or arcades. These covered allies have side allies sprouting off in all directions, and eventually you find yourself within a labyrinth of stores selling clothing, food, candy, booze, hand blown glass, crafts, jewelry, and there is even a drug store or two. You can get lost in there in an instant.</div>
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After we had finished a delicious teppanyaki lunch, with our children in their strollers, we ventured out into the streets and arcades to take a look. I had promised my son during lunch that if he ate well he could pick out one treat or toy while we were window shopping. We looked in several stores that had little "junk" toys out front, but my son was looking for something in particular. Legos. Well unfortunately, Legos are not one of the items frequently sold in these places. Most of the shops have candy, toys, cards, Awamari (a <i>very</i> potent Okinawan rice wine), sake, etc. There are no "children's" stores. Everything is kind of jammed into one space, and they go from "child-friendly" to "adult-friendly" in the space of about 20 feet. </div>
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As we entered our final shop that had several junk toys out front, I warned my son that this was his last chance to choose something. My attention was split between what my son was looking at, and my daughter who was sitting in the stroller just outside the shop with my friend. My son approached me with a cute little box that was decorated in colorful flowers. </div>
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<i>"I want these cookies Mom!" He says holding out the colorful box. He'd grabbed it from a low shelf a few feet in front of me. I can see the shelf is at the perfect height to catch his eye and full of other different colored boxes.</i></div>
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<i>I hear fussing, and the beginning of a melt-down coming from the direction of my daughter and my friend who also has her own baby in a stroller. I turn around to check and see if everything is ok. It's hot out, and we've been walking around for nearly an hour. It's getting to be time to go. </i><i>I turn back around to see my son marching toward the cash register.</i></div>
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<i>"Are you sure that's what you want?" I ask while rushing after him.</i></div>
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<i>"Yep!" He says</i></div>
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<i>"They're cookies?" I say. "Let me see." I briefly glance at box that he is still holding and see that it is overwhelmingly covered in Japanese writing, and a what appears to be little sugar cookies coated in a layer of chocolate. I turn back to my friend and tell her that we're going to go pay for the cookies. As we walk to the register I notice a small group of young Japanese adults staring at me and my son. This is not unusual behavior. We get stared at everywhere we go. We're obviously Americans, and my son is blonde. We stick out like a sore thumb. </i></div>
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<i>My son hands the lady behind the check out counter his box of cookies and the Yen. He is so proud that he's paid for it himself. We walk out of the store with his cookies in a little bag.</i></div>
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Later as we're walking to our cars, my friend's sister looks at my son who is now riding in the stroller again, and has obviously broken into his box of cookies.</div>
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<i>"Do you realize those are penis cookies?" She asks me.</i></div>
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<i>I look closely at the box. Sure enough. On my too brief and clearly insufficient check of the product, what I'd mistaken for an innocent baby holding a chocolate covered cookie, is <b>actually</b> a naked cartoon baby, with his tiny little baby wiener and balls hangin' out there, holding a chocolate covered penis. And to make matters worse, there is a martini on the table next to him. . . </i></div>
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Are. You. Fricking. Serious.</div>
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I just bought my child penis cookies! Yes, chocolate covered penises! No way. In my haste to start for home, I've just made a <b>big</b> mistake. However, I refuse to panic, and instead just straight see the humor in this!! My son clearly had no idea what they were and was utterly unfazed by the fact that there is a naked baby on the front of the box. All he saw were chocolate covered cookies. <i>(God bless the innocence of children.) </i>And I was mentally berating myself. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">He didn't eat very many. I don't think they were very good. . . </span></div>
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Once we were on our way home with both children asleep in the back, and the box of edible porn next to me on the front seat, I began to laugh uncontrollably. I can't believe I didn't realize what was on the front of the box! I am a total dipshit! What kind of mother am I?!?! Oh. And I also understood the group of staring Japanese people. . . </div>
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Clearly several lessons were learned here. </div>
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1. The Japanese like to put pornographic food in colorful boxes with cartoons on them. </div>
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2. Japanese people like to stock these products on shelves directly at a child's eye level, and right next to the cute little stuffed Shisa Dogs, and Whale Sharks.</div>
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3. I must pay close attention at all times to what my son is looking at while in any Japanese store. This is NOT like America where sugary penises would have been out of a child's sight completely, only available for purchase via internet, catalogue, sex toy party, or porn store.</div>
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4. I must <b><i>very</i></b> thoroughly inspect any product my son wishes to buy to ensure that we never, <i>ever</i> buy chocolate covered phalluses again.</div>
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-63027609025048286892012-06-16T00:49:00.000-04:002012-06-16T00:49:18.681-04:00In PerspectiveIt's nearly impossible for me to sit down at my computer and write when I have a lot to say especially when most of what I want to say I can't talk about for security reasons, and to protect the privacy of the people involved.<br />
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A lot has happened in the past few weeks, not all of it was good. And as ashamed and embarrassed as I am to say it, it's really forced me to hit the pause button. It's unfortunate that a series of difficult events is what it takes for some of us to stop and just be grateful for what we have. I don't mean to be a major downer, and I of all people should know better, but sometimes we get so caught up in the mundane that we forget, or get too busy to really take a look, evaluate our lives and our circumstances. I've spent a lot of time in the last several weeks playing the <i>"would've, could've, should've"</i> game, thanking God, and just plain appreciating my life, and my family, and all that we have. The things I have to "complain" about at the moment, pale in comparison. . .<br />
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Once again we have a hurricane headed toward Okinawa. At the moment, this one is forecast to be nearly a direct hit at a Category 3 or 4 according to wunderground.com. I ventured out this afternoon to replenish our nonperishable food supply in the event that our power goes out, and pick up a few extra supplies. The line for the checkout at the commissary was ridiculous. Insane. I've never seen it that bad anywhere we've lived. When it was finally our turn, my total came to around $280.00. Two hundred, eighty dollars is <i>way, way</i> over our usual weekly grocery bill, but we'd also bought our storm supplies in addition to our usual groceries, so I paid it without batting an eyelash.<br />
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While the cashier was processing my payment and printing up my receipt, a sense of humility came over me. <i>(This has been happening to me a lot lately)</i> I realized how lucky I am to be able to just go to the store, buy everything we need, and pay for it all without even having to worry about it. Things were not always this way for me and my husband. Especially when we were first married. There are a lot of military families, and American families in general, that don't have that luxury. And I realized <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">again </span>how blissfully normal my life really is. Or as normal as it can be for the family of an active duty soldier, And of course then I thought about those whose lives will never be this blissfully normal again. . .<br />
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I've been making a serious effort <i>not</i> to needlessly complain about stupid, unimportant crap. I may joke occasionally, or at times have a legitimate ailment. Sure this typhoon is going to be a huge pain, especially if we lose power, but really in the grand scheme of things, it's a minor annoyance. I DO have food in my house. I DO have a house that will keep us safe from the storm. My children ARE healthy. My amazing husband IS alive and uninjured. In my opinion there really isn't much else that matters.<br />
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Those who know me personally, know that I am loud-mouthed, opinionated, and likely certifiably crazy, so I probably won't be able to stop playing the <i>"would've, could've, should've"</i> game for a while. It's just the way my mind works through the tough stuff. But this, all of this, has forced even me to <b>shut up</b> for a bit, reboot, and put life into perspective again.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-20342250653143222672012-05-15T09:57:00.000-04:002012-05-16T02:00:46.452-04:00Snakes, and Snails, and Spiders! Oh My!We've been living on the island for a little less than a year now. In that time I've become personally acquainted with some of the more interesting wildlife that lives among us on this small stretch of land between the East China Sea, and the Philippine Sea.<br />
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Before I go any further I have to explain that I grew up in the Mid-West. Or more specifically, Wisconsin. If you're even remotely familiar with that part of the country, then you know that once November/December hits, every living thing that normally grows, crawls, eats, or sleeps outside either dies or hibernates until spring. This means that things like bugs, spiders, snakes, and other creepy crawlies generally don't grow to be very big because most of them are all born, and then die in the time span of about 6 months.<br />
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I distinctly remember the year I was 18, it was the morning we were leaving for a family vacation to Washington DC, I pulled back the shower curtain, and a harmless black house spider about the size of a nickel fell into the bottom of our tub. I screamed bloody murder of course, which in turn cause my father to catapult himself up the stairs to rescue me from whatever it was that was dismembering my body. Imagine his astonishment to discover it was a teeeeeeeny tiiiiiiiny little spider that had caused such a terrible scream to rip from my lungs. That and my awful phobia of spiders courtesy of a movie that shall remain nameless.<br />
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If only I'd known. . .<br />
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Fast forward a few years to the time spent living in the southern portion of the United States. Savannah Georgia, where I was convinced that God had rendered every disgusting, slimy, stinging, or dangerous, creature to live in one small area of swampy land. I got used to giant flying roaches <i>(affectionately referred to as "Palmetto Bugs" by the Southern Gentry)</i>, even larger spiders, snakes of all kinds, lizards <i>(which my dog would eat whole and later vomit up on my beige carpet)</i>, alligators, and armadillos that apparently carry rabies under their shells, and will royally screw the alignment on your car if you happen to run one over. So you'd think I'd be used to coming into contact with the creatures of the world. Yeah. Not so much.<br />
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Then we moved to Okinawa. We have the flying roaches here. I can deal with those. But then there is a whole host of other things that really <i>(to be blunt)</i> just scare the shit out of me. Lets start with the Habu. This is a snake that scares the locals so badly that it caused a grown man to retreat faster than lightening out of a hole in my friend's yard simply because she uttered the word. Their venom is so deadly that the anti venom apparently only works once. You do not want to mess with these guys. And I learned recently that the hill top upon which I live is called Habu Hill. Just. Frickin. Great. Here is a picture of our friendly neighborhood Habu.<br />
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Just looking at this thing incites immediate panic. BLAAAAAH! I know I'm going have nightmares about this one. Not to mention the fact that my neighbor found one on his front steps a few months ago. I will never be used to this.</div>
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Lets move along to the GAS's. Oh yes. Thats Giant African Snail. These things can be as big as your hand or larger. Being hermaphrodites, they multiply faster than you can say "<i>Holy crap, these things are disgusting!</i>" and before you know it your patio is practically covered with them every time it rains. It's a good thing I tried Escargot shortly after we moved here, because I will NEVER eat them again. These huge boogers in shells are all over the place. They carry a bacteria that can cause encephalitis if ingested raw. And it would be my luck that my kids would pick one up and then lick their hands. . . So I've instructed them never, under any circumstances to touch one. Ever. Period. Then while running the other day I accidentally ran one over with my stroller. The crunch, and the sight of a huge, bloody, grayish-brownish, boogerish thing that I then proceeded to step in, made me almost barf on the spot and I spent the next mile and a half of the run dry-heaving, and praying I didn't puke. GAS's, while not scary are certainly grossity gross gross.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">BARF!!</span></div>
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And finally we'll talk about what I found in my kitchen this morning that caused me to panic, and run to the neighbor's house <i>(for the second time)</i> to help me rid my house of this terrible beast. Yeah. You guessed it. A spider. But we're not talking just <i style="font-weight: bold;">any</i> spider. See, I don't mind the little baby house spiders. But again, we're not talking about those. We're talking about a big hairy spider with a leg radius as big as my hand. <i style="font-size: x-small;">is it on me? I swear it's on me, </i>It was just hanging out above the door to my garbage closet. I didn't even notice it until I was packing my son's lunch for school. <i style="font-size: x-small;">I think it's still on me.</i> I had to do the "self talk" I can handle this. I can do this. I can handle this. I can do this. etc. For those of you who talk to yourselves, this is not unusual behavior. You understand. But as it turns out, giant spiders just chillin on my wall is more than I can take. That right there is my breaking point. So I went outside in search of a savior. My merciful neighbor was outside as well, and assisted in killing the monster. Ok, actually I stood far, far away while my neighbor killed the monster with my broom. And all was right with the world again. The following is not a picture of <i style="font-weight: bold;">MY</i> spider. But it is a picture of the same kind of spider. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjotieHcURmNiKbLKwPueSJRkUkHlflr09sl-87HlHpgSVIybou1yrRUZP7VVyOTN7ll-0HLf5iHJEW-elUYaWtSnJ4ZpdXnNeTMcjdB4awPdyB4eV6n8-UDCFZSy6nQD2rdOKVCtWiBj8/s1600/315539_251451991573409_166904920028117_808322_1142745002_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjotieHcURmNiKbLKwPueSJRkUkHlflr09sl-87HlHpgSVIybou1yrRUZP7VVyOTN7ll-0HLf5iHJEW-elUYaWtSnJ4ZpdXnNeTMcjdB4awPdyB4eV6n8-UDCFZSy6nQD2rdOKVCtWiBj8/s320/315539_251451991573409_166904920028117_808322_1142745002_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!</span></div>
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So that is my story for today. And I shall never speak of these creatures again. Until I see one. God help me. </div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-24842299504562960802012-03-28T12:38:00.005-04:002012-03-29T10:23:44.667-04:00What is Service?<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Tonight I received a comment on a post I wrote on February 11th. called <a href="http://keepingupwitharmylife.blogspot.jp/2012/02/different-sides.html" target="_blank">Different Sides</a>. In that post I wrote the following: </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #261e08; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><i>I am proud of what my family does for our nation. I love my husband, and I love my country. I'm proud that we choose to serve something greater than ourselves.</i>" </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I would like to thank the person who wrote the comment because it inspired me to write a post that I've been considering for a while. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #261e08; line-height: 18px;">Let me begin by saying that I do not feel the need to explain myself to anyone, but this issue has been such a hot topic in more forums than mine, that I would like to address it now.</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">For convenience sake, here is the comment that was posted:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #261e08; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>"I've really been enjoying reading your blog and have found it interesting, however I do have a comment about something you said: "I'm proud that we choose to serve something greater than ourselves." You don't serve. You are not active duty, you are a civilian, you didn't choose to serve. I find it highly offensive that you have implied that you serve just because you are married to someone who does."</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #261e08; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #261e08;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">I never implied that I serve my country in a military capacity simply because my husband does. I do not feel the need to "ride his coattails" so to speak, to feel that sense of accomplishment. Nor would I ever try to rob my husband of what he has so rightfully earned and take it for myself. I did not mean what I said as a blanket statement to describe all military families. I meant it only in reference to my family. With that said, my husband's military service affects <u>every</u> <u>single</u> <u>aspect</u> of my life. It affects my marriage, my career, where my home is, my social life, my emotional well being, and my children and the entirety of their lives as well. It also affects how and why I volunteer my free time. Just because the military spouse does not have a contract with the United States government does not mean that we are immune to service or sacrifice. It is my husband's military service and career, but it is <b>our</b> life.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #261e08;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #261e08;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">When my husband and I fell in love and chose to get married, I promised to love, honor, and support him. Part of that promise means that I support him in his chosen career. Our marriage is a partnership based on mutual love and respect. His job is in the military but he also takes into consideration how his career choices affect his family. His lumps and bumps are mine too. Everything that affects him, affects me. I may be behind him, left at home while he is away, but I live this life <b><u>with</u></b> him. While he trains, deploys, and works hard to defend our nation, I work hard at home to support his unit and the families of his men, in addition to maintaing our home, our vehicles, raising our children, and running a business of my own.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #261e08;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #261e08;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">This kind of support is not always official, but it comes in many forms, and varies from unit to unit. Many of the things I have done include volunteering as FRG leader, fundraising for the unit, putting together care packages for single soldiers, cleaning empty barracks rooms prior to the return of the deployed men, hosting holiday dinners, making monthly phone calls to 150 soldier's spouses and families with updates and information, taking care of a soldier's over due cell phone bill, or expired license plates, and bringing hot meals to staff duty. Other times it means being there to babysit someone's children, give rides to the doctor, or commissary, help spouses who are new to the area become acclimated for a smoother transition, mow other's yards, be a friend, an advocate, or just a shoulder to cry on. I've been a military spouse for nearly a decade, so many times I simply share what I've learned along the way. A lot of this is even more important when our soldiers are away. My family has received of this kind of help and support as well. Both my husband and I were very grateful.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #261e08;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #261e08;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">Not every military wife does this. It is not required of us. But <b><i>I</i> </b>do. I do not get paid for my time, I offer it freely. Sometimes it's fun, sometimes it's work, and many times it's both. It is in <i>this</i> way that I "serve" something greater than myself, and it is because of my husband's military service that I <b>choose</b> to volunteer my time to this cause, and to these people. To insinuate that I sacrifice nothing, and serve nothing because I am not military personnel is insulting.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #261e08;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #261e08;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">I do not directly serve our nation in the way that my husband and his men do. I will never have that honor. My choice is to love and support my own soldier, and do my best to support his men and their families. It is not a job as rough, tough, and gritty as the one my husband does. I will never pretend that what I do is harder than what my husband does. I will never pretend that it is imperative to a successful military or a strong nation. But the fact is that military spouses and families are part of military life. Helping and taking care of them is full of it's own unique challenges. Many military wives shoulder responsibilities and burdens that non-military wives often don't, or never do. The sacrifice and service of military spouses who work hard and volunteer their time in support of soldiers, their units, and their families should not be overlooked. I'm proud of my husband's service, and I'm proud of my contribution in support of my husband's service. Nothing and no one will ever change that.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #261e08; line-height: 18px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-76511239302349653662012-03-27T08:39:00.001-04:002012-03-27T08:46:49.589-04:00A Little Bit of Home HereCruising the internet the other day:<br />
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<i>Hmmm, summer clothes for the kids, check. Summer clothes for me. . . um, not so much.</i><br />
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<i>Looking for some delicious summer recipes that don't take a BILLION years to make. . . </i><br />
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(The weather is warming up here. Can you tell?)<br />
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<i>Sandals, a new bikini maybe? Nah, not yet. Still 15 lbs. to lose.</i><br />
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<i>A mini break to someplace? Any place? Nope. That would require lots of work for me, and no fun without my husband.</i><br />
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<i>How about. . . </i>and there it was. A crappy quality picture -<i>probably taken with an old iPhone</i>- of me sitting with a friend at Sonic, sipping a Diet Cherry Limeade.<br />
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I'm not sure what clinched it, if it was the friend in the picture, or the Cherry Limeade, probably both, but it's official. I miss home. I've been feeling it coming on for about a week now, but this really did it. I usually miss home a lot more when my husband is gone, and there are specific times of year when I really, <i>really</i> miss home. This year though, things are just a bit different.<br />
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I'm not just feeling nostalgic for the place where I grew up. I'm feeling it for places in time no matter where in the world I happened to be. Nights on the town in Savannah with our friends Jen & Lamont, backyard BBQ's with neighbors at Fort Benning, and yes, even Fayetteville with my friend Heather, sitting at the Sonic. I know that a few years from now, after our time on Okinawa is over, I'll feel some nostalgia for this place too.<br />
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But this time it was the Cherry Limeade, the friend, the feelings of peace and consistency that I know I felt when that picture was taken. For a moment I completely forgot where I was. I was determined to call up a friend, meet at Sonic with our kids, and order a Cherry Limeade! There has been a Sonic, and Cherry Limeade available in every place I've lived for the last decade.<br />
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But then. . . <i>the horror! Oh the horror! </i>Reality dawned an instant later. I'm in Japan. There is no Sonic here. Hence, no Cherry Limeade. Since I can't see my old friends, it's clearly time to dig up a copy cat recipe for that one. It's amazing how something so simple as a frivolous drink can make me miss things back in the states so much.<br />
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Now I had a plan. I would <b>make </b>my favorite summer drink here to Japan. Off to the 100 Yen store to find some cheap reusable travel cups with straws, and the commissary to buy my ingredients. I know I'm not getting off this island to visit home anytime soon, so I'm going to make the best of what nostalgia brings. I've decided I'm going not going to miss home. I'm going to have it here.<br />
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I can't build a Sonic, and I can't fly my friends out here. So I'll put a kiddie pool in our yard, grab a beach umbrella, add some friends and their kids, and best of all, my homemade cherry limeade. . . only this year since I don't have to drive home, maybe I'll have a little something extra in it too!<br />
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Oh, and I'm going to buy that bikini after all.<br />
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</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-79545954230198099062012-03-19T03:01:00.001-04:002012-03-19T07:12:53.875-04:00Do Unto OthersHi! My name is Stephanie and I am a Facebook addict! Hahahaha!<br />
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I keep in touch with most of my friends that way now, since we live on opposite sides of the planet from each other, and it's not always convenient to schedule a phone call or Skype date. What is daytime for me is the middle of the night for them.<br />
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Several days ago while I was adding some pictures, updating statuses, and perusing the latest exploits of friends, new and old, I came across a particular page. I will not share the name of the page in this blog because I don't feel that their message is a positive one, nor do they need or deserve anymore traffic directed toward them. Anyway, I came across a page directed toward military wives. It possibly began as a humor page, attempting to give us spouses some comic relief in the sometimes overly serious world of military life. The title of the page seemed promising. Maybe the creator's intentions were good. I don't know.<br />
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I dug into the page looking for a laugh, because lets face it. These days, under these particular circumstances, I am wound tighter than a spring. I am very sensitive to much of what I see, hear, or do, and sometimes a misdirected comment, a photograph, or a story on the news is like a dagger jammed right into my heart. Even when I try to keep my emotions in check, some days are very overwhelming and it just can't be helped.<br />
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As I wandered around this particular Facebook page looking at the posts and comments, I found some things that were remarkably true, and a bit humorous. I added a comment or two about my own blunders as a military wife. But as the days went by and I looked again and again, I found nothing remotely funny about what was happening in front of my eyes. What I saw didn't make me angry, only sad. It seems that this page was created for military wives who want nothing to do with the military and abhor everything about being a military wife. I consider myself a pretty open minded person, so if the patrons of this page feel that way, and it works for them, then more power to them. They have every right to live as they choose.<br />
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But here is where the problem lies. In my mind, and in my heart, I know that what they are doing is wrong. The things being posted and said are very inconsiderate and rude. They make a specific point of degrading and belittling other military wives who do not fall in line with their method of thinking, or living. The entire thing exists only to be hateful toward a specific group of people. Some of the things mentioned on this page deal with women who "wear their husband's rank" or feel they deserve special treatment because of their husband's rank, demand discounts, and otherwise use and abuse their privileges as a military spouse. Perhaps a valid grievance to air, but then it got worse. Also mentioned, or more specifically targeted are over weight women, and unemployed women, with many comments being made with the assumption that they are all lazy, and mooching off of their husbands. *<i>sigh</i><br />
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I too have my own opinion of spouses who DO use their husband's rank, cheat on their husbands while they're away, and otherwise "mooch", so to speak. But I am of the mind that a PFC's wife and children should be treated with the same consideration and respect as a Colonel's wife and children. Regardless of rank, appearance, or employment status, each family deserves at least that much. There is no difference between us. We are all in the same boat. In my own experience I find that it is easier to surround myself with people I respect, and who respect me, people who I enjoy, and who bring out the best in me. It doesn't hurt me any to let the rest go about their lives their way.<br />
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But no matter how much I disagree with something someone does, I do not spend gross quantities of my time lumping all spouses with certain characteristics, physical or otherwise, into one large group, and proceed to make fun of them. The actions of a spouse, appearance of oneself, and the rearing of children is between a soldier and their spouse. It is not my place to judge. I don't feel the need to point out what I believe to be the shortcomings of others simply because it is not how I choose to live my life. I do not need to belittle anyone, and in my opinion, those that do belittle others do it because there is something lacking within themselves.<br />
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It doesn't matter which kind of community you live in. Rich, or poor, New York City, or Ely Iowa, there is always going to be ignorance, arrogance, people you'd rather not spend time with, and people who don't subscribe to the same set of values as you do. That doesn't mean that they are less human than you. It doesn't mean they don't have feelings. It doesn't mean they aren't fighting some sort of daily battle. It just truly disheartens me that there is this kind of negativity going on in a community that should be of all things, supportive of each other. Sometimes all we have is each other.<br />
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I am a proud military wife. I am proud of all the things my husband has accomplished. For he has done so by his own strength and ambition, and the loving support of his family. What affects him affects me and our children. It is not within my makeup to pretend that this portion of my life does not exist. I proudly wear his unit insignia as a pendant around my neck. I live in base housing. I am a stay at home mom with a small business of my own. I wear my workout clothes to the commissary! Judge me if you must, but know that I don't care. I know in my heart what kind of wife I am to my husband, what kind of mother I am to my children, and what kind of person I am to this world. I also know what kind of person I <i style="font-weight: bold;">don't </i> want to be. I strive to be better for my husband, for my children, and for myself.<br />
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I've been making a conscious effort to eliminate negativity from my life. In that spirit, I chose to disentangle myself from anyone or anything having to do with this page. There is nothing good that can come from consciously demeaning others. This has made me ever more mindful of how I publicly treat other people. Even if I'm having a bad day, even if the checkout line at the commissary is slow because a slightly overweight woman in sweatpants is taking too long to count out her coupons. No one has the right to make her feel like she's less. There is only one who will judge us. I will be held accountable for my actions in this world, both the good I've done, and the many mistakes I've made.<br />
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Luke 6:13. <i>"And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them.".</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-28519464934320975012012-02-27T20:37:00.000-05:002012-02-27T20:37:40.578-05:00Prayer Brigade<i>*Disclaimer - I am a Christian, more specifically Catholic. I have my beliefs, and I am a strong believer. That does not mean that I subscribe to<b> all</b> the ideals of the church, or that I push my beliefs onto others. This is simply my point of view. Religion can be touchy subject as we all have our own ideas about God, and faith, or lack there of. I am not writing this to change minds, preach, or impose on anyone. I am writing this to explain how I get through the day and what gives me strength.</i><br />
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I've always had a complicated relationship with God. There were times when I was younger that He was not an important or active part of my life. There was a time when I did not believe at all. As I grow older my faith in God has played an active role. It's amazing how when you feel you have nothing left you can always turn to your faith.<br />
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I find myself praying every day about one thing or another. Usually I pray for strength, peace, or the courage to be better. I pray that by His grace my husband comes back to me. I pray for my brother who died 5 years ago, and who's death is a large reason why I have the faith I have.<br />
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Religion and faith has always been present in my life, even when my own faith was floundering. Both of my grandmothers were very devout believers. They both prayed to God, and to the Holy Virgin a lot. Both always, <i>always</i> had their prayers answered. Both of my parents grew up in very active catholic families. My father's oldest sister was a nun, he was an alter boy. My mother's father was a member of the Knights of Columbus and buried with his saber. The religion of my family has been passed on to me, but I was also given the freedom to form my own opinions, and my own beliefs.<br />
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When I learned of my husband's coming deployment I called my mother and asked her to pray. I called my mother in law and asked her to pray. I know that both mothers have passed my request on. I know that in my church back home, and my husband's church, the congregations often pray for his safe return. Every member of my family and my husband's family are praying for him, for me, and for our children. I truly believe in the power of prayer, and I affectionately refer to it as "The Prayer Brigade" when my husband is away. This gives me some comfort. I can feel the support and love of our family and friends stretching across the Pacific.<br />
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One of my girlfriends, and fellow Army wife here on Okinawa once said "<i>You have to give it to God."</i> At the time, I thought I can't just do that. But lately I've been absorbing the meaning of those words. I don't have any choice <b>but</b> to give it to God. The wives of the men in my husband's unit lean on each other. We are always there for one another. But many nights when my children are safely tucked in and I'm alone in our bed my mind doesn't just shut off. My thoughts inevitably turn to my husband. My fear and worry comes to the surface and I cry from the depths of my soul. I let out everything I've been keeping locked inside. Through it all I have no choice but to pray. I don't have the strength to go this alone, and in those moments of sorrow there is nothing else. My husband is not here to hold me and tell me it's going to be ok. I don't have him to lean on. I have no choice but to lean on God and hope that He will see us through. I have no choice but to believe that God is on our side and will return my husband safely to his family. I know that I am not alone. The Prayer Brigade is on it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-37666893617396655762012-02-24T04:45:00.001-05:002012-02-24T09:15:41.466-05:00Something Beautiful - United GraceI have to admit that lately it's been an ugly, ugly world. At least to my thinking. I've been keeping up with current events in my husband's current corner of the world. Though I'm not happy about what I read, I would rather be aware than left in the dark. I can't do anything about it. The control is out of my hands. All I have left to do is pray. I don't have the energy to be angry at our enemies. My energy has to be focused elsewhere right now. But no matter where I am focused it is only a distraction. It doesn't cure the heavy, achy, worried heart I carry around with me.<br />
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There are beacons of light in the midst of this whole mess. The ladies with whom I've become acquainted are some of the strongest, smartest, well rounded women in the world. One lady in particular is part of an amazing company called <a href="http://unitedgrace.com/" target="_blank">United Grace</a> which supports our military personnel and their families. This company has taken something that is difficult, nearly impossible at times, and from it they created something beautiful.<br />
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</div><div><a href="http://unitedgrace.com/" target="_blank">United Grace</a> makes amazing jewelry, hand crafted in the United States (<i>thank you very much!</i>) designed specifically to support our military community. They have 3 different collections. The <a href="http://unitedgrace.com/collections/united-grace-signature-pendant" target="_blank">Signature Pendant</a>, the <a href="http://unitedgrace.com/collections/blue-star-grace" target="_blank">Blue Star Grace</a> collection, and the <a href="http://unitedgrace.com/collections/gold-star-grace" target="_blank">Gold Star Grace</a> collection. As soon as I saw the Blue Star Collection, my first thought was "<i>I must get my hands on one of these pieces." </i>The blue stars appeal to me for obvious reasons. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp-dCHDn0WjmXyO4XX5mXOsnekILtSNwyjewc10A8r2LZRBI8XBSwY0CsULJYViJmh0co-1zBIWMH33pv9CscDl_1gUDTr9Uyxs0gapZoQFU5i2rH_owOw1oYka8klaDfIu196WogzIv4/s1600/collections_blue_splash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp-dCHDn0WjmXyO4XX5mXOsnekILtSNwyjewc10A8r2LZRBI8XBSwY0CsULJYViJmh0co-1zBIWMH33pv9CscDl_1gUDTr9Uyxs0gapZoQFU5i2rH_owOw1oYka8klaDfIu196WogzIv4/s320/collections_blue_splash.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Photograph from <a href="http://unitedgrace.com/" target="_blank">unitedgrace.com</a></i></span></div><div><br />
</div><div>This is not the cheaply made, fake metal "Support Our Troops" jewelry that you find at the kiosks in the BX/PX. This is the real deal. Real stones, and real metals. The only way I can describe it is beautiful. <a href="http://unitedgrace.com/" target="_blank">United Grace</a> has done a wonderful job of creating and crafting their products.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I have a tendency to take anything concerning the military personally. It is my lifestyle, my husband's career, and my family's livelihood. I am impressed and truly touched that someone thought enough of us to create a company tailored specifically for us. It reminds me that even though we remain a faceless, nameless entity to the majority of Americans, we are not forgotten.</div><div><br />
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</div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-11441784100488072302012-02-11T10:57:00.000-05:002012-02-11T10:57:22.548-05:00Different SidesI've been wanting to write this post for a few days but every time I sit down to write, the words have escaped me. The situation upset me so greatly that I had to remove myself from it, and it has taken every ounce of strength to stay removed.<br />
<br />
It began with a friend of my husband who posted a photograph on Facebook. A very heated debate ensued regarding the picture, and at one point, another person who joined the conversation told me, "<i>I'm sorry that you have to go through this." </i>in reference to my husband fighting what he called"<i>an illegal war"</i>. Those comments stopped me for a second, and then it made my blood rage. I was shocked, angry, and hurt.<br />
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<b><i>I</i></b> know why my husband is goes to war. I know <i><b>why</b></i> he fights. I make it my business to know. But I am <b><i>not</i></b> sorry. I am proud of what my family does for our nation. I love my husband, and I love my country. I'm proud that we choose to serve something greater than ourselves. I realize that not everyone has the courage or the strength to do it. I would not trade one single day of it, nor would I choose any other life. It's true that deployments are incredibly difficult. But I certainly don't feel sorry for myself, and I don't need anyone else to feel sorry for me either. For someone to say something like that to me is insulting beyond all reason.<br />
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In a conversation I had with my husband not too long ago, he said that Americans don't care about this war. I didn't want to believe it, but in this case his statement rings true. I have been part of this life for long enough that it's easy for me to forget not everyone is affected by this war. Especially when my entire existence hinges on it. And especially when I live in a military community. There are people out there who walk down the street and don't spend one second thinking about this war, or the men and women who fight it. They don't think of the families that make that sacrifice. There are people who can go days, or weeks without giving it a care. For many it's become nothing more than a political poker chip. It's so easy to read and educate yourself on what is happening over there or just make yourself aware. I guess it's just easier for some to sit in a nice warm office, and pass judgement without knowledge.<br />
<br />
This encounter made me angry and sad. Not only for myself, but for the utter ignorance of this person and the fact that there are more out there just like him. But even when ignorance like his spews over me and tries to taint the life I've built with my husband, my soldier, the life I love, I will never be sorry.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-32232929637905368432012-02-08T22:26:00.004-05:002012-02-09T10:22:19.340-05:00Health & Fitness: Including Guest Writer, Kristin WellsFor the past several weeks, I've been undergoing a personal quest to lose the 30 pounds I neglected to lose after the birth of my children. As I continue to exercise, and eat better, I've come to realize how vital health and fitness is to survival as a military spouse. I am also documenting my personal <strike>struggle</strike> journey at <a href="http://thinwithin.typepad.com/" target="_blank">thinwithin.typepad.com</a><br />
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I know there are a lot of military spouses out there who want to get fit, want to lose a few pounds, and maybe just don't know where to start. This is where a young lady named Kristin comes in! I met Kristin just a few days ago. She is a recent college graduate who majored in creative writing. She expressed an interest in writing something for my readers. I found her article compelling and interesting, especially since I have a tendency to occasionally struggle with making healthy eating choices. So without further adieu!<br />
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<br />
<b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #333333;">A Glimpse At Eating Healthier</span></b><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #333333;">By Kristin Wells</span></b><br />
<b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #333333;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 11.7pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #333333;"><span style="color: #333333;">There are many health benefits to eating more nutritious, lower calorie foods. Unfortunately, most people crave these high calorie comfort foods, despite their efforts to maintain a healthy lifestyle. Thankfully, there are many small changes you can make to substitute your favorite foods for healthier versions of the same thing.<br />
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1. French Fries<br />
We all salivate at the mere mention of French fries. Greasy, salty, and piping hot, French fries are a comfort food for many- and also wreak havoc on a healthy diet. If you can't live without the flavor of salty fried potatoes, make them at home. Thinly slice potatoes, spritz with cooking oil and sprinkle with salt and herbs, then pan-fry until crisp. Even better are baked sweet potato fries, which are as delicious as they are nutritious.<br />
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2. Baked Potatoes and Chips 'n Dip<br />
Got to have sour cream on your baked potato? Substitute plain nonfat yogurt for 1/2 of the sour cream you would normally use. This is also a great tip for making homemade chip dip. Also, switch to baked chips or tortilla chips as an alternative to greasy potato chips.<br />
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3. Microwave Popcorn<br />
A great substitute for buttery microwave popcorn is organic stovetop popcorn. Organic popcorn is free of chemicals, low in fat, and low in calories. Sprinkled with a low-calorie popcorn flavoring, this makes for a great healthy alternative to microwave popcorn.<br />
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4. Candy<br />
Do you have a sweet tooth? Dried fruit is the answer! While still on the sweet side, dried fruit is full of vitamins and minerals and is a much healthier alternative to packaged and processed candy.<br />
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5. Cake<br />
Try replacing cake with whole wheat banana nut bread. You'll save several hundred calories if you indulge in a slice of warm banana bread instead of a thick slice of cake.<br />
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6. Sugary Cereal<br />
Steel cut oatmeal is an easy replacement for sugary, nutrient-deficient breakfast cereal. Jazz it up by adding dried or fresh fruit, nuts, and spices such as cinnamon or nutmeg.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #333333;"> <div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-63842534728048808582012-01-29T09:49:00.000-05:002012-01-29T09:49:04.975-05:00View From the Other SideTonight on our rainy drive home from dinner at a friend's house I was lost in thoughts of how much my husband would have enjoyed the company of the evening. I was lost in how sad I was that he wasn't there because those are the times when I miss him the most. The happy times are hardest because I can't share it with him.<br />
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A few nights ago I served a casserole for dinner. I served the baby first, put her in her highchair and set her to it while I put servings on my plate and my son's. When I turned around my daughter was in the process of sorting out all the ingredients of the casserole into separate piles, and then she set to work eating each pile in turn. I know that things like this would have gotten a good laugh from my husband and it makes me sad that he missed it.<br />
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Then it occurred to me how much more difficult it is to leave than to be the one left behind. I've been so wrapped up in how my children and I are going to survive this, I haven't even gotten to how my husband feels.<br />
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There are two people inside my husband's body. There is Home Husband, the man I know and love, the jokester, and the devoted husband and father. Then there is Deployment Husband. Deployment Husband is distant. Deployment Husband calls sporadically, and when he does call he speaks in Deployment Voice. The voice that responds in one word answers and who's tone reveals nothing. I understand that part of it is the job. But the other part is for self preservation.<br />
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I cannot fully understand how stressful things must be for him while he is gone, doing what he does. But I respect it. What I haven't fully respected is how difficult it must be for him to leave. I haven't respected how hard it must be on him to leave me and our children standing there crying when he knows he can't comfort. I haven't respected how bad he must feel watching us disappear into the night when he's uncertain when he will return. I can't imagine how terrible it is to know that our children will grow up without him while he is away. How hard it must be to know that he will miss our son's first day of Kindergarten, the first time he reads a book on his own, and our baby will be talking by the time he returns.<br />
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I know that Deployment Husband shuts all of that off in order to do the job he must and get home to us again. I've known that for a long time. The rest of it hasn't really sunk in until now, and it makes me love and miss him even more.<br />
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As always in my prayers, I will ask God to protect my husband from harm. But tonight for the first time I will also ask that He grant my beloved peace of heart and mind that all is well back home. That we are doing our job so he can do his.<br />
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When he returns, we may be a little older. We may be a little wiser. But we will not be resentful that he missed important parts of our lives. We will be understanding of how it must have felt to miss them. We will welcome him with unconditional love, and our family will be whole once again.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-37249389109941672582012-01-28T08:42:00.000-05:002012-01-28T08:42:05.310-05:00On the Bad DaysI've been on hiatus for a while because there have been no words. Until now. This event happened several days ago.<br />
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<i>"N, grab the milk from the fridge and then set your place for me please?" I ask my son. </i><br />
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</i><br />
<i>It's just us now, me and the kids. My husband got on the plane a few days ago. The plane that I hate. The plane that takes the father of my children, the love of my life, and my best friend into uncertainty and danger. The plane that takes half of my life as I know it away.</i><br />
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<i>My son hands me the milk carton and I fill his glass.</i><br />
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<i>"What land is Daddy in again?" He asks. As I stir our dinner on the stove I absently but patiently respond to his question even though we've been over this at least a hundred times. There is a pause, and he looks up at me as his eyes fill with tears.</i><br />
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<i>"Mommy, are the bad guys going to kill my Daddy?"</i><br />
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<i>My hand stops stirring, our food immediately becomes an after thought. My brain searches quickly for the right answer, for any answer as I squat down so I am eye level with my little boy. I struggle for composure. I don't want to lie, but I can't tell a 5 year old that it is a distinct possibility. </i><br />
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<i>"God is watching over Daddy and will protect him because He knows how much we miss Daddy. Ok?" I hug N hard. His innocent and trusting eyes clear as he nods his head.</i><br />
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</i><br />
<i>The answer seems to be good enough. For now. I breathe a sigh of relief as my comforted child goes on his way to set the table for the dinner I am no longer hungry for. As soon as he is out of sight I let the tears fall and curse the reason my son is asking such a grown up question.</i><br />
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</i><br />
I've underestimated my child. He understands much more of this than I've given him credit for. His fear is the same as mine, and I saw at that moment how brave my little boy really is.<br />
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</i><br />
It's days like this, that I really hate the military. I hate that my child has to suffer that fear and uncertainty. It breaks my heart that no matter how much I try to shield my son from this, I just can't. For a moment I resent the fact that <i>my </i>child doesn't have the carefree childhood he deserves.<br />
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This is uncharted territory for us. I just hope to bring my son through this as best as I can. I will cry my tears into my pillow so he can cry his on me.<br />
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</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-31037861637682720722012-01-10T01:10:00.002-05:002012-03-22T23:54:44.238-04:00Living With the Glass "Half Full"I will be the first to admit that I have it better than a lot of people. I don't need for anything, and neither do my children. I am well loved by my husband, my children, and my parents. My children are deeply loved as well. We can always pay for our groceries, we have guaranteed healthcare, and a guaranteed house to live in. We are indeed lucky. We know that. We are also aware of what we as a family "pay" in order to have our house, our healthcare, our food.<br />
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My family is deeply appreciative of what we have. Most of those who live the military lifestyle will agree that it is nearly impossible to take these things for granted because it can so quickly be gone. The things that military families deal with like living thousands of miles from friends and family, long separations, soldiers missing important days and holidays, spouses living the married lifestyle "alone", children growing up without their other parent present, picking up and moving 3 times in as many years, it can be stressful, lonely, and sad. But one thing I've found is that a lot of military families are some of the most optimistic people I've ever met. Maybe we have to be in order to stay sane. We have to be positive because it's too hard on us to see anything but the bright side of things. When our soldier is gone, we carry on with our families, we wake up and greet the day, we celebrate our holidays with out them. When we have to move, we do so with excitement instead of fear and negativity because it's just plain easier that way.<br />
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Recently someone not affiliated with the military in any way, told one of my family members that we needed to, "<i>start living with the glass half full.</i>"<br />
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Um, <b>excuse me?</b> Really? <b><i>You </i></b>are giving advice on how to live positively? Seriously? Advice like this from someone who has been chronically cruel? Advice like this from someone who has been habitually miserable in her own life? Then it dawned on me. I now see this comment for what it was. A pathetic attempt to make <i>just one</i> more dig. Because I wake up each day with the circumstances that I've been handed (which are not always easy) and I <b>choose</b> to be happy. Some days it's a struggle but I do it anyway because it makes this lifestyle much easier to live.<br />
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I'm not suggesting that I am in a constant state of euphoria, or even need to be. That would be insane, or manic, or whatever you'd like to call it. Nor am I saying that on days when I choose happy, it doesn't turn upside down anyway. We're all allowed our rotten days. We are especially allowed those days when our soldier is gone, or we hear of an injury or a death, or we've been informed that we must pack up and move yet again, or we are PCSing to a less than desirable location, or we have to say goodbye to good friends for the umpteenth time, or our children are acting out and there is no relief in sight, or we simply can't spend the holidays with family this year because our soldier doesn't get leave. . . . there are plenty of reasons to be angry or sad.<br />
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But no, I don't need advice on how to live with the proverbial "glass half full", and don't worry about me. I will be ok because choosing "happy" is to see that with each problem, there is an opportunity. It is to seek the good in even the most dire of situations. Sometimes I have to dig deep, but it's always there even if it's just a shred. Choosing happy is the conscious decision to not allow the negative to rule your day.<br />
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It's not healthy to expect to be nothing but happy, and I of all people spend some time crying my tears. But guess what? When I'm done I find that they've filled my glass half full again.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-7685943002780741922012-01-01T05:45:00.001-05:002012-01-01T17:32:18.937-05:00Here Again.<i>"My birthday. Again. Our Anniversary. Again. Both kids' birthdays. Again. . . I start counting off in my head how many events and holidays he won't be here for, and immediately think of what we can do to compensate for his absence.</i><br />
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<i>"I don't know how to do this. We have two kids this time, and they're old enough to understand Daddy is gone, but not why." I search my husband's eyes for answers. </i><br />
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<i>"I'm scared." I admit quietly, and will myself by all the grace of God not to cry.</i><br />
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The last time my husband deployed to a combat zone we only had our son who was 6 hours old. Our baby didn't know any better and I didn't really have to worry too much about how to keep Daddy present in his life. Pictures did the trick. Things were simple then.<br />
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Things are not simple now. After years of training, (<i>the Army equivalent of a normal lifestyle because he is home more often than not) </i>and 3 PCS's, we have come full circle. I knew his turn would come up eventually. I've been ignoring the inevitable as a means of survival but I knew it was coming. I just didn't know it would feel like this. We've done this before. Said goodbyes, dealt with separations, dealt with fear, and loneliness. We've done it a lot. We've done it more times than most in this life do, but it's different now. The consequences of what <i style="font-weight: bold;">could</i> happen are larger now. They're worse. Much worse, and I'm not even close to prepared to deal with that.<br />
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I'm just going to go ahead and say what some wives would be afraid to say. This could be the last time we're together. It could be the last time he holds his children, or me. It could be the last time I see his smile or hear his laugh. It could be the last dinner we have as a family. . . So I hold his hand a little tighter, hug him a little harder, kiss him a little longer, sleep a little closer. We are spending what little time we have left together and making the most of every second. These seconds could be all we have. It's been so long since we've done this, that I'm not sure how to process all that I feel. I'm not certain I am well enough equipped to coach our children through this. I feel like I'm about to jump into the deep end of the pool with a 1000 pound weight on my back.<br />
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The day he packs his bags and walks out our door for the last time, I can't promise I won't cry. I can't promise I will let go right away when he hugs me goodbye. I can't promise that I'll keep it together as he says goodbye to our children. I can't promise not to worry or be afraid. I will be lonely every night. I will probably cry myself to sleep for a while. But I can promise to be there for our children. I can make sure that we talk about Daddy every night, and help them know he misses them too. It's going to be hard. Very hard. But we will find a way to make it.<br />
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While we wait, I keep having to remind myself of what and who I am. I can do this. I <i style="font-weight: bold;">have</i> to do this. I love my husband enough to do this. I love my children enough to do this. I will pull through no matter what. I will find the strength to do it all, and be it all while he is gone. This is my service to our country so that my soldier can do his mission and come home alive.<br />
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A WWII Colonel's wife was once asked how she could let her husband go when he deployed. She responded, <i>"I know that what happens to other men in battle could never happen to him. And I believe it with all my woman's heart to be true." </i>So she let her husband go. Like so many other women before and since, I too will let my husband go. I will hug him and kiss him. I will watch him turn from us and walk away. And I will pray every single day that that kiss isn't the last one. Until he walks through our front door again.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-53502232006047172102011-12-30T23:34:00.001-05:002011-12-30T23:34:25.089-05:00Adventures at the Makishi Market & Kokusai DoriKokusai Dori, also known as International Street in downtown Naha is mildly put as an interesting place. Anyone from my home town will understand my comparison that Kokusai Dori is like the Japanese version State Street, only weirder. The street is lined on either side with small shops that sell everything from Awamari - the Okinawan <em>(and much more potent) </em>version of Sake, to Habu Sake - that's sake with the very deadly Habu snake pickled in it just the worm in the tequila, to designer clothing, and even a Starbucks. Bestill my heart, I got my first cup of Starbucks in MONTHS.<br />
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Off of Kokusai Dori there are little "arcades" or hallways that make up the market. Anything and everything you could ever think of can be found down these little arcades. There is a maze of hallways with Kimonos for all sizes, hand blown glass, Okinawan pottery, jewelry, snacks, flowers, men's, women's, and children's clothing, albeit a little on the ugly side. . . anything your heart could desire can be found here.<br />
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Buried within the depths of the arcades is the Makishi Market. It's somewhat hard to find if you don't know what you're looking for. The directions I found on the internet had us turning down one of the arcades called Heiwa Dori. You walk until you come to a curtain shop <em>(which also sells rugs and fabric FYI)</em> and you turn right. Look for sets of glass double doors on your right. You will smell the fish and the meat before you even see the doors. Follow your nose. Yes, these were the honest to goodness directions. . . <br />
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We found the market. Now I love to cook, and shop for ingredients. But being in this market where everything is written in Japanese, and no one speaks english, I was overwhelmed by the amount of stuff in there! I would love to go back on a day when there are far fewer people. There are just counters of the freshest meat and seafood I have ever seen. And upstairs above the market proper, are restaurants where they will cook what you purchase on the spot. My husband and I are going back next weekend and getting ingredients to make our own sushi feast. Can't wait. <br />
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Now finding the market was not a problem for us. Saying the smell will lead you is an understatement. You KNOW when you smell that market. We all knew we smelled it because we all stopped walking and went "OH." My parents had come out for Christmas and we'd all ended up with one of the worst stomach bugs they've seen around here. We were all finally on the mend and this was our first outting in about 4 days. My poor father couldn't even stomach the smell, so my mom and I went through the double doors to explore and just see what they had to offer.<br />
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As we explored the smaller arteries off the main arcade, I noticed something that I've seen happen every other I go out into town with my kids. Japanese women go <strong><em>NUTS </em></strong>over my kids. I mean crazy! They snap pictures, they coo. . . my son has been petted on the head more times than I can count. At first I thought this was an anomaly since the Japanese people are usually very polite and not so touchy feely. But it happens everytime we go out into town. They LOVE my kids. And it finally clicked. They love the blonde hair. Both of my kids have corn silk colored hair. <br />
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We ran into another American family while we were in the arcade and one of the little girls had red hair. I said that the Japanese are probably all over that little one, and the mother confirmed that her red headed daughter gets petted a lot too.<br />
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All in all, this place is somewhere I am dying to get back to. Now that I know where I am going I will probably have the courage to go on my own. Or maybe I will take a few of my friends. To another year filled with new adventures. . . <br />
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Happy New Year to all.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-12777888008103348002011-12-22T06:07:00.000-05:002011-12-22T06:07:57.485-05:00My Ghosts of Okinawa<em>Thunk, thunk, thunk. Swish, swish. . . </em><br />
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<em>and a little later. . . </em><br />
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<em>Knock, knock, knock. . . I think something just touched me. . .</em><br />
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Ask anyone who has lived on Okinawa any more than 5 minutes about the ghosts here. Everyone has a ghost story to share. It's either a personal encounter, or a story that's been passed from person to person. Recently, I shared my encounter(s) with a friend, no longer caring if she thought me to be insane, only to discover that she had had ghostly experiences too. The Japanese, and the Okinawans in particular are a very superstitious people. Since ghosts, and anything to do with the supernatural is right up my ally, I looked around and did a little research on the ghosts of Okinawa. I came to find out that this little island is fondly known as "spook central".<br />
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I certainly do not doubt the prevalence of ghosts here. One of the bloodiest battles of WWII was fought here. Many soldiers, both American and Japanese, and Okinawan civilians died during that battle. TheOkinawans worship their ancestors, not a "God" in the sense of Christianity, Judiasm, or Islam. Tombs located randomly all over. Small, single person tombs, and larger tombs to accommodate many family members. The prevalence of these tombs is somewhat spooky, and unnerving, yet you get used to it eventually. Homes, restaurants, hotels, and more are not uncommonly abandoned by the Okinawan people due to a haunting, or other supernatural experience occuring there. So no, ghosts in my home do not surprise me.<br />
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I don't know anything about the ground that our townhouse is built on but I am convinced that there are spirits that visit me. Shortly after we moved in, my husband was sent out for a training mission for several weeks. The first few weeks were quiet and uneventful. I became accustomed to the sounds of our home, our neighbors. The neighborhood dogs barking in the evening, and the sound of the airconditioning kicking on were all sounds that I eventually got used to hearing.<br />
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One night I had gone to bed early and quite suddenly my bed started to vibrate, and then shake. Could have been an earthquake, yes, but not night after night after night. Shortly after my bed becand shaking I started hearing foot steps coming up my stairs. Not necessarily an uncommon thing, true. However, our house is built like a bomb shelter. Everything is concrete. The stairs are concrete and covered with carpet, the walls are concrete and covered in paint, everything. The only thing that is drywalled, are the interior walls. So the sound of footsteps coming up our concrete stairs, down the hallway, and approaching my bedroom were not something I should have been hearing. Especially while my kids are in bed asleep, and my husband was away. <br />
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Along with the footsteps, I could hear knocking on the exterior walls. The concrete exterior walls. There was also knocking on walls that weren't shared with nextdoor neighbors, or other rooms in my house. Including the wall between my shower and my husband's closet, and my closes and the empty stairwell. You could explain it away with pipes, and waterlines, etc. But Our homes are wired and piped through the floor. Our walls are concrete.<br />
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At night while I'm laying in bed, and it's all quiet, I can hear what sounds like a radio tuned between two stations. I hear this almost nightly. I hear it still. Sometimes it's loud enough to sound like I am standing in the middle of a crowded room. Sometimes it sounds like there are children playing in the hallway. No matter what it is, it's always there.<br />
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And finally the clincher. I was laying in bed reading a book and I hear the footsteps come up my stairs. I hear them come down the hall. I heard them come into my room. I could hear the swishing sound that clothing makes when you're walking. Then it stopped and I felt something sit down on my bed, and put it's hands on my legs. It didn't scare me a bit. I just put my book aside and fell asleep.<br />
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I contacted the medium who did a reading for my family shortly after my brother died and asked him what he thought of my situation. I told him that I didn't mind if the spirit, or spirits stayed just so long as they weren't evil, and didn't scare me or my kids. He gave me some advice. So I promptly said aloud one evening, that only good spirits were welcome here, anything else had to go. And in keeping with the Okinawan customs, I went out and bought myself a pair of Shisa. The Shisa are half dog, half lion and are said to be protectors. They are almost always seen in pairs. The Shisa with his mouth open keeps evil spirits away, and the Shisa with her mouth closed keeps good spirits in.<br />
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I don't mind sharing my home or my city with spirits and ghosts. I am ok with the fact that there are some who reside in my house. The fact is that they were there first. As long as I can live comfortably in my home I'm ok. <br />
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I guess I really did get a true welcoming to Okinawa.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-71439270850196813952011-12-06T07:22:00.000-05:002011-12-06T07:22:25.251-05:00Dear Anonymous,This week I really wanted to write a post about the ghosts of Okinawa and my recent experiences with them. Nearly anyone you talk to who has lived here more than a few months will have a ghost story or an encounter to share with you. However that post and my excitement to write it will have to wait.<br />
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Tonight's post is very different from anything I have ever written. I am so angry I don't even know where to begin, and the anger is from years of biting my tongue and being "the bigger person". But I've come to believe that there is a point at which biting one's tongue and being the bigger person is detrimental to your own self preservation. There comes a point at which you can no longer remain silent. There comes a time when you must speak up for yourself.<br />
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Tonight what I write has little to do with being a military wife, and more to do with being just plain human. There are few things that have affected me so deeply as to change me and my beliefs forever. The first was marrying my husband, the second was the birth of my children, and the third was the death of my brother. Naturally as my uncle's life hangs in the balance, (and though he is doing well now, his situation is precarious enough that we could still lose him) I have spent a lot of time thinking about loss. Possibly losing him, losing my brother, and other losses that are much too close to home.<br />
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To be completely truthful, death and loss have been a constant reality in my life since I married my husband. I've come to peace with the reality of death. However there are others with whom I share blood lines who have not come so far. The lack of compassion for the losses and sacrifices made my parents and I is almost inhuman.<br />
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Today, a family member who shall remain nameless for the purposes of this blog, called my mother to discuss my uncle. My mom is 3rd in line to make decisions regarding his current situation and care. During the course of conversation, this person told my mother that she "wags my brother's death in their face." My mother was asked by this person why she isn't over it, and why she can't move on. . . my poor mom, so deeply hurt by these words called me to talk.<br />
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Upon hearing this, I decided that this is the moment where I can no longer be silent. This is where I must speak. I am stuck on Okinawa, desperately wishing I could be with my family right now, but there is nothing I can do. If only this person knew how lucky they are to have 5 living brothers and sisters as opposed to 1 dead oneerhaps they would not treat their siblings as such.<br />
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So I sat down and I wrote. And I wrote. And I wrote. I wrote in hopes that something I said could shock certain people into reality. I can only use this as my forum because if I actually sent the letter, the fall out would come down on my mom. Not on me. And, I'm pretty sure that the people whom this is about don't care enough to even know that my blog exists, or that I even live on Okinawa. But I'm so angry I just can't shut up. I just can't.<br />
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So here it is:<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">Dear (name removed for privacy),</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My mom told me that the two of you spoke today. I was so happy to hear it. I know she was happy that you called as well. Until you said that she “wags Nick’s death in your face”. I know that it’s hard for you to hear, and talk about Nick. It’s difficult for all of us. But to say that she “wags” his death in your face is a terribly insensitive thing to say. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Let me tell you something about my brother’s death. My mom, dad, and I will NEVER be over it. EVER. It is something that has changed us all so deeply, so fundamentally that there is no way to fully recover and be what we once were. How can you not understand that? Nicholas (name removed for privacy), my brother, my mother’s and father’s only son, died violently and unexpectedly! At 21 years old!!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Tell me how long it would take you to get over seeing your son’s body smashed on the rocks. Seeing where his brains spilled out of ears because he hit headfirst. Seeing ridges where his skull was cracked and crushed through the skin on his forehead. Knowing that his organs were so badly damaged that they were practically mush. How long would it take you to get over having the sheriff and the coroner come to your front door? How long would it take you to get over having to drive down to the morgue to identify your son’s body? How long would it take you to get over seeing your boy laying naked and lifeless on the metal gurney? How long would it take you to get over having to call your pregnant daughter, knowing her husband is in the field and she is 1500 miles away to deliver the news? How long would it take you to get over the need to hold his ice cold hand for as long as you could before they closed the casket for the last time? How long would it take you to get over having your son’s body incinerated in the crematorium because the pain of putting him in a box in the ground was much worse. How long would it take you to to get over knowing that you’ll never see, or hug, or hold your baby, your child, your only son ever again? How long would it take you to get over the fact that you’ll never celebrate another birthday, or Christmas with him? How long would it take you to get over knowing he’ll never get married and have children? You’ve <b>never</b> had to do it. My mother did! Nick's death will affect us for the rest of our lives!!!! Please get that through your head, and your heart.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There is not a need for you to discuss his death in detail. All it would take is a simple, “<i>How are you doing today?</i>” or even “<i>I know the holidays are hard. Are you getting through alright?</i>” Thats all!! If discussing Nick’s death is difficult for you, have you even considered how hard <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman Bold';"><b>enduring</b></span> it has been for us? Ignoring it completely, as though it didn’t happen is terribly painful and insulting. All it takes is a simple validation of how awful it has been for my parents and me. Not nasty comments about how we’re not over it yet, and why can’t we move on. My mother sent out a letter to you, (name removed), and (name removed), BEGING for compassion and help. She received very little in return. My husband’s family has shown more compassion and concern to my parents and me than you have in the last 5 years. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Nick’s death is not about you, and you have no place judging how my parents and I mourn. We will mourn how we choose. For the first year or two, it was all we could do to live through each day with the sorrow. We didn't have the space in our souls to consider much else. Only God will judge us. Not you. My mother does not need snide comments about how long it takes her to get over it. SHAME ON YOU for saying such a thing. We will not tiptoe around Nick’s death because it’s uncomfortable for <b>you</b>. WE are the ones who have to live with it <b>every single day</b>. We miss him every single day. My children will never know my brother, their uncle. They will never have cousins from my side of the family. As my parents age, and eventually pass, I will not have my brother there with me as I should. And I’m supposed to just get over that?? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If you ever took the time, perhaps you would see that our days are no longer consumed by grief as they once were. Perhaps you would see that with the help and support of those who truly care, we have crawled out of the black hole of sorrow, and are living as best as we can with the pain his loss that endures. Maybe you would see that it doesn’t hurt all day every day anymore, but when it does hurt, it is just as acute as though it happened yesterday. Perhaps you would understand that we go to work each day, we spend time with friends and family, and we carry on as normally as we can. Maybe you would see that <b><i>finally</i></b> there are more days where we can smile and laugh rather than cry. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Any criticism of how my family chooses to mourn my brother’s death, or how we keep his memory alive is disrespectful to all of us, and it is unacceptable. You will not do it anymore. Period. Just because you don’t understand how we mourn does not mean that we are wrong. All we’ve asked of you is support and caring. Perceived or not, that is something we did not receive from you. Expecting a time limit for how long it takes to “get over it”, is not supportive or caring, and clearly shows your lack of an understanding of the mourning process.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">You will no longer criticize how my mother mourns for her son. You will no longer ask her why she’s not “over it”, tell her it’s time to “move on”, or tell her she needs to consider YOUR feelings about it. You will validate the sorrow she feels about Nick’s death no matter how uncomfortable it is for you, because she is the one who lost her son. You did not. If you must say something regarding Nick or his death, it will be thoughtful and kind. Not wrought with criticism or judgment. You CAN be selfless enough to give that much.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am not interested in a response from you. I am not interested in excuses, explanations, or any kind of justification you may have for your behavior. My mother, father, and I are allowed to mourn my brother. We will continue to mourn him, love him, miss him, and remember him forever. We have a right to do that without a set time limit from you or anyone else. We have a right to do that without expectations placed upon us for when we will be over it, because we never will be.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">You can’t undo the pain of the past, but you can work to make the future better.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sincerely,</div><div class="MsoNormal">Me</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5646007352071786429.post-35243322680936041912011-12-01T01:44:00.001-05:002011-12-01T01:48:43.017-05:00Never Felt So FarMost of the time I love, Love, LOVE, living on this island. There are a few small annoyances and inconveniences that get to me occasionally, but I really am enjoying myself. Because of the total awesomeness of Vonage, I really haven't felt all that far from home. I talk to my parents every day. Sometimes twice.<br />
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Until today.<br />
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I won't get into the how or the why I knew something was coming, (<i>thats a different post all together</i>) but for days I've had this feeling of foreboding hanging over my head. I couldn't shake it off. There was no reason for me to be feeling the way I felt. My favorite holiday is almost upon us, my parents are coming out for a visit, and my husband is home to celebrate the season with me and the kids. What more could I ask for?<br />
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Then I got a phone call from home. One of my favorite people in the world, my uncle is ill. I mean VERY ill. He had a heart attack, and subsequently open heart surgery which included five bypasses, and the repairing of one valve. Things were going well. Until they weren't. He was stable after the surgery and then he just crashed. I don't know how many times he "died" before they were able to bring him back. . . by opening him back up and massaging his heart with their hands. . . the doctors said at this point it will take a miracle for him to live. ----- So all you believers, PRAY!!<br />
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To say I am heartbroken is a huge understatement. My uncle has always had a place in my heart. He was in the Navy. He cherishes and values his service, and anyone else who serves too. Then when my brother died, my uncle and I became pen pals of sorts. He is one who enjoys the tradition of the hand written letter. Over the years we've exchanged a few, including one shortly after my brother's passing. He asked me to never share the contents of that letter to anyone. And to this day, I never have. He had been prompted by the short duration of my brother's life and unexpected death, to reflect on his own life. I'm not sure why he chose me to be the one to hear it. Maybe he knew that I would still accept him without judgement, despite the mistakes he's made. Maybe he knew that I would always see the good. And after my daughter was born, he stood as her godfather at her baptism.<br />
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Now he lays in the hospital waiting for the inevitable to come. My mother is near hysterical. And here I am. Here I will most likely stay. Normally if we were in the states, all I'd have to do is hop on a plane and I could be there in just a few hours. Being here makes it much more complicated than that. I have the paperwork to get me on the flight list, but the chances of <b>actually</b> getting my kids and myself on a military transport plane this close to Christmas is very slim. Anytime other than the holidays and we'd be good. Nor do we have the money to pay $2,000+ per ticket for me and my two kids to get a commercial flight home. And the kids would have to come. There is nothing else I could do. So here I sit waiting for news. And waiting sucks. It kills me that I can't be there for my mom. She adores her brother. But my dad is there and thats going to have to be good enough. I'm probably not the first spouse out here to have faced this kind of thing. But that doesn't make me feel any better.<br />
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Today I can physically feel just how far away I am. I can feel the sadness and the worry across the thousands of miles. Even through the phone I am hyper aware if the measured distance between my loved ones and myself. I've never felt more isolated, more helpless, and more far away from home.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4