I promise, I'm not ignoring what I set out to do with this blog. I just have been really negative lately and I've been trying not to spread it. We're supposed to have orders because we're supposed to leave in 20 days, and we don't. So I'm worried we're not going to have enough time to get everything we need to do done. In the military orders are the magic that lets you get things done.
There are a million little excuses why we don't have orders yet and I'm getting sick of all of them. I'm angry, I'm frustrated beyond belief and, honestly, I just want to get the fuck out of Korea. (Yes it's bad enough that I feel the need to swear and use unrefined language to express my feelings.) So I've been miserable and the lack of orders combined with a couple of things I thought were going to happen that didn't I've just been really negative. So I've been keeping to myself, trying to read and playing lots of Skyrim to beat up dragons.
The frustration has blocked my creative juices. *sigh* I feel like we're going to be stuck in my own personal hell hole forever. *le sigh*
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
When I was Young I Wanted to Grow Up...
The jokes about why did I want to grow up have more to them than I'd like to admit. Having someone pay for everything, do everything of significance for you and not having to make the tough decisions is quite the easy life. Why did I want to leave that behind? Oh yeah because I wanted to buy what I wanted, do things for myself and not have my decisions made for me when I thought I new best. In the long run I think it's best that we grow up, I don't think I'd really enjoy being my 7 year-old self forever. This would be doubly true if I had to go back to knowing only what I knew at 7, because I wouldn't be able to appreciate the simplicity of my life.
In a way I think that's one of life's greatest rewards, learning when to appreciate simplicity and when to appreciate the complex nature of what you have to face. It is one of the harder concepts I find to grasp right now. Some how over the years I've let the complex be too complex, I let it all over whelm me so it seems as if life is giving me too much all at once; the simple becomes all I search out. The simple all the time bores me. I used to enjoy a good challenge, I used to crave solving the puzzle and making everything work.
I miss that.
I'm still coming to terms with why I let that part of myself go. I ask myself is it gone forever? Will I ever enjoy a challenge again? Or have I doomed myself to a life where I get bored with the simple I place in front of myself. I'm not looking to actively seek out something completely ridiculously difficult just because it is complex and difficult. I also firmly believe that I'm still looking for my place, my niche. I have lost some of my self identity or at the very least have convinced myself I have. I let some things get to me and continue to get to me from my past. And it's not that I haven't come to grips with those events, but just that I'm not sure how to let them shape me.
So I'm resisting letting my past influence my life. The only problem with that is I don't think it works. These things happened, I lived through them. Sometimes I lived through them with grace, other times I lived through them like a 2 year-old child fighting and screaming before nap time. So at last I'm willing to face the reality that they will shape my life, they will change me. I need to decide how they will do so. I need to take control of my emotions, feelings, and reactions to dictate who they make me. Only when I really accept what happened do I think I can be ready to face a challenge. Then I will be able to accept life as it comes to me instead of searching for the easy way out.
Enough philosophizing for now, how about a funny Nigel anecdote. Today the Husband gave Nigel a bath. It's chilly here in Korea, and well Nigel seems to be a wimp about the cold. In order to keep our heating bill relatively sane we keep the heating set at 20 degrees Celsius. I don't know what that is in Fahrenheit and honestly I don't want to. With as drafty and poorly insulated as our place is I know that the actual temperature in the house is not 20.
Nigel's bath was about 5pm, the sun was going down and we knew it'd be a little cold outside. So we had Nigel go outside and do his business before his bath. Seth bathed him and brought him out after towel drying him. (Note: Nigel is scared of the hair dryer so we can not blow dry him without him freaking out.) Nigel does his wet dog routine, running around rubbing on stuff to dry himself and shaking trying to rid his fur of water. Then he settles down and starts shivering.
As mentioned above, Nigel is a wimp about the cold. His coat is fairly fine and doesn't seem to hold his body heat well. He was laying between Seth and I on the couch just shaking. We put a blanket over him and that still didn't warm him up enough. He ended up cuddling on Seth's lap, with a blanket over him. Then two blankets. The dog was still freezing. Now at this point we figured he HAD to be faking. So I reaching under all the blankets to feel his fur and see how warm he felt. He didn't, he felt room temperature.
We had been making fun of him for being a wimp and he was really cold. His little doggie teeth were even chattering. I felt horrible. So to warm up my dog, who has fur on every inch of his body, I broke put the heating pad. I turned it on high, place in under the blankets and let it work it's magic to warm Nigel up. The funny part is, that we used a heating pad on our dog. Not funny ha ha, but funny in an ironic sort of way. The furry, fluffy dog had to be warmed by a pile of blankets and a heating pad. Now you know not to believe him when he tries to act all tough. Nigel's krytonite is cold.
In a way I think that's one of life's greatest rewards, learning when to appreciate simplicity and when to appreciate the complex nature of what you have to face. It is one of the harder concepts I find to grasp right now. Some how over the years I've let the complex be too complex, I let it all over whelm me so it seems as if life is giving me too much all at once; the simple becomes all I search out. The simple all the time bores me. I used to enjoy a good challenge, I used to crave solving the puzzle and making everything work.
I miss that.
I'm still coming to terms with why I let that part of myself go. I ask myself is it gone forever? Will I ever enjoy a challenge again? Or have I doomed myself to a life where I get bored with the simple I place in front of myself. I'm not looking to actively seek out something completely ridiculously difficult just because it is complex and difficult. I also firmly believe that I'm still looking for my place, my niche. I have lost some of my self identity or at the very least have convinced myself I have. I let some things get to me and continue to get to me from my past. And it's not that I haven't come to grips with those events, but just that I'm not sure how to let them shape me.
So I'm resisting letting my past influence my life. The only problem with that is I don't think it works. These things happened, I lived through them. Sometimes I lived through them with grace, other times I lived through them like a 2 year-old child fighting and screaming before nap time. So at last I'm willing to face the reality that they will shape my life, they will change me. I need to decide how they will do so. I need to take control of my emotions, feelings, and reactions to dictate who they make me. Only when I really accept what happened do I think I can be ready to face a challenge. Then I will be able to accept life as it comes to me instead of searching for the easy way out.
Enough philosophizing for now, how about a funny Nigel anecdote. Today the Husband gave Nigel a bath. It's chilly here in Korea, and well Nigel seems to be a wimp about the cold. In order to keep our heating bill relatively sane we keep the heating set at 20 degrees Celsius. I don't know what that is in Fahrenheit and honestly I don't want to. With as drafty and poorly insulated as our place is I know that the actual temperature in the house is not 20.
Nigel's bath was about 5pm, the sun was going down and we knew it'd be a little cold outside. So we had Nigel go outside and do his business before his bath. Seth bathed him and brought him out after towel drying him. (Note: Nigel is scared of the hair dryer so we can not blow dry him without him freaking out.) Nigel does his wet dog routine, running around rubbing on stuff to dry himself and shaking trying to rid his fur of water. Then he settles down and starts shivering.
As mentioned above, Nigel is a wimp about the cold. His coat is fairly fine and doesn't seem to hold his body heat well. He was laying between Seth and I on the couch just shaking. We put a blanket over him and that still didn't warm him up enough. He ended up cuddling on Seth's lap, with a blanket over him. Then two blankets. The dog was still freezing. Now at this point we figured he HAD to be faking. So I reaching under all the blankets to feel his fur and see how warm he felt. He didn't, he felt room temperature.
We had been making fun of him for being a wimp and he was really cold. His little doggie teeth were even chattering. I felt horrible. So to warm up my dog, who has fur on every inch of his body, I broke put the heating pad. I turned it on high, place in under the blankets and let it work it's magic to warm Nigel up. The funny part is, that we used a heating pad on our dog. Not funny ha ha, but funny in an ironic sort of way. The furry, fluffy dog had to be warmed by a pile of blankets and a heating pad. Now you know not to believe him when he tries to act all tough. Nigel's krytonite is cold.
Monday, January 16, 2012
My Grandmother
If you're a Facebook friend of mine then you may already know my Gramma passed away Saturday. You probably also know that I've been stressed out over the fact she was sick and I wasn't able to be in Iowa with her or the rest of my family. She had cancer and was in hospice for the past couple of months being made comfortable.
What you may not know is that I'm happy she has passed. I love my Gramma Audrey very much, so much that I am able to be happy that she is no longer suffering. Now I have to admit that it feels wrong to be glad she is gone, but after sorting through my emotions over the past 12 hours since I talked to Mom I realize that mostly I am relieved, grateful and happy for her. I'm almost scared to type this out because I'm afraid I will be ostracized for feeling this way, in fact I have already deleted multiple sentences defending my feelings. I am not going to do that.
I wasn't able to be in Iowa at her bedside but I did get regular updates from Mom. Gramma was in pain and unable to really be herself. She wasn't able to do much at all. She was suffering. Now she is not. I believe in God, Heaven and an eternal soul, this belief is comforting me right now. I believe that Gramma is in Heaven. I'm not going to get preachy or impose my beliefs on anyone. I only mention it because my personal beliefs allow me peace and comfort right now as I know that she is in a better place. I don't want to be sad that she is no longer here, because I wouldn't want anyone, especially someone I love, to continue to be in severe pain.
To be clear, I am going to miss her; she was an amazing woman. I mourn the loss of her presence for my family. I feel for my Dad, my aunt and my uncles for losing their mother. I'm not completely void of human decency. I feel sad that I won't ever get to hear her call me Laura Lou again or watch her as she yells at my Grampa for having uncanny luck at Pitch while he sits there laughing and smiling. (She would at times reach over and smack him while he did this.) I will always remember her watching me while Dad was in Korea and Mom was at work, going to her house after school and having a snack of chocolate chip cookie bars and a 16 oz bottle of Pepsi. I'll never forget that the first time I realized grandparents were smart people with wit and a sense of humor was hearing Gramma make a comment directed at my Grampa. (I was about 12 and my jaw dropped while all the adults around the card table laughed heartily. To this day I'm not sure if they were laughing at my open mouth or Gramma's smart-ass comeback.) I'll never forget that she always thought I used obscene amounts of sugar in my iced tea, which I did, but never stopped me from adding more.
Gramma wasn't the cuddly, climb on her lap to get a story type of grandmother, but she did always make sure that each of her grandkids had something that made them feel special. She taught me how to lose graciously at cards but still have a ton of fun doing it. It was from her I remember hearing stories about Daddy and his siblings misbehaving and then watching her watch them as they hashed it out between them who actually committed the crime while the other sibling or siblings got the punishment. She taught me that sometimes you didn't always get exactly what you wanted, but had to do some work. Gramma Audrey didn't coddle us grandkids just because we were grandchildren, we had to wash dishes and clean up.
I don't have an idealized version of her that I put up on a pedestal, she was a real human. I didn't always like her, what she had to say or what she made me do. But I will always love her. I will always respect her. I am thankful she is my Gramma. I wasn't able to see her after she was diagnosed as terminal and I won't make it to the funeral, but I'm okay with that. I was part of her life and she is part of mine. She's my Gramma and I firmly believe she's watching over me know telling me not to mourn her passing, but to celebrate her life.
Your Laura Lou loves you Gramma. I always have and I always will. Thank you for being part of my life. I wouldn't have had it any other way.
What you may not know is that I'm happy she has passed. I love my Gramma Audrey very much, so much that I am able to be happy that she is no longer suffering. Now I have to admit that it feels wrong to be glad she is gone, but after sorting through my emotions over the past 12 hours since I talked to Mom I realize that mostly I am relieved, grateful and happy for her. I'm almost scared to type this out because I'm afraid I will be ostracized for feeling this way, in fact I have already deleted multiple sentences defending my feelings. I am not going to do that.
I wasn't able to be in Iowa at her bedside but I did get regular updates from Mom. Gramma was in pain and unable to really be herself. She wasn't able to do much at all. She was suffering. Now she is not. I believe in God, Heaven and an eternal soul, this belief is comforting me right now. I believe that Gramma is in Heaven. I'm not going to get preachy or impose my beliefs on anyone. I only mention it because my personal beliefs allow me peace and comfort right now as I know that she is in a better place. I don't want to be sad that she is no longer here, because I wouldn't want anyone, especially someone I love, to continue to be in severe pain.
To be clear, I am going to miss her; she was an amazing woman. I mourn the loss of her presence for my family. I feel for my Dad, my aunt and my uncles for losing their mother. I'm not completely void of human decency. I feel sad that I won't ever get to hear her call me Laura Lou again or watch her as she yells at my Grampa for having uncanny luck at Pitch while he sits there laughing and smiling. (She would at times reach over and smack him while he did this.) I will always remember her watching me while Dad was in Korea and Mom was at work, going to her house after school and having a snack of chocolate chip cookie bars and a 16 oz bottle of Pepsi. I'll never forget that the first time I realized grandparents were smart people with wit and a sense of humor was hearing Gramma make a comment directed at my Grampa. (I was about 12 and my jaw dropped while all the adults around the card table laughed heartily. To this day I'm not sure if they were laughing at my open mouth or Gramma's smart-ass comeback.) I'll never forget that she always thought I used obscene amounts of sugar in my iced tea, which I did, but never stopped me from adding more.
Gramma wasn't the cuddly, climb on her lap to get a story type of grandmother, but she did always make sure that each of her grandkids had something that made them feel special. She taught me how to lose graciously at cards but still have a ton of fun doing it. It was from her I remember hearing stories about Daddy and his siblings misbehaving and then watching her watch them as they hashed it out between them who actually committed the crime while the other sibling or siblings got the punishment. She taught me that sometimes you didn't always get exactly what you wanted, but had to do some work. Gramma Audrey didn't coddle us grandkids just because we were grandchildren, we had to wash dishes and clean up.
I don't have an idealized version of her that I put up on a pedestal, she was a real human. I didn't always like her, what she had to say or what she made me do. But I will always love her. I will always respect her. I am thankful she is my Gramma. I wasn't able to see her after she was diagnosed as terminal and I won't make it to the funeral, but I'm okay with that. I was part of her life and she is part of mine. She's my Gramma and I firmly believe she's watching over me know telling me not to mourn her passing, but to celebrate her life.
Your Laura Lou loves you Gramma. I always have and I always will. Thank you for being part of my life. I wouldn't have had it any other way.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Tails of Frogs, a Cow and a Dog
Today was a good day. It was the first day of a four day long weekend, MLK weekend, so there will be no progress on the orders front until at least Wednesday. So I was able to not think or worry or stress about that and won't until later. I began to make sure we do all those "one more time before we leave" type of things. We stocked up on some paint for my brother because well I'm just nice like that, and then had dinner and a game night with some friends. Nigel got to play with his doggie friends whom he loves and that always makes for a tired puppy in our house. He is currently passed out on the couch between the Husband and I. I have also decided that I need, yes need, a Tedy Bruschi jersey.
Here I have to say Go Pats! I hope they win today's game against the Broncos. Sadly I will not be able to watch. Once again I regret our decision to not get AFN, Armed Forces Network which broadcasts American TV shows and important things like football overseas.
The husband and I have also starting going through our house and doing another purge of movies we haven't watched in years, Head over Heels anyone, and books that I read and didn't fall in love with. I was also mean and made the husband get rid of movies he hasn't watched since we met. I mean it's been almost 6 years now and if he hasn't watched them then he's not going. Of course I was willing to negotiate for any classics that just can not be parted with, however, we were able to come to terms with everything. (I still have my He-Man, She-Ra and Thundercats! And the promise of finishing those collections.) Tomorrow we finish our "project room" with the rest of the craft stuff and hopefully getting rid of random cables and other electronic pieces that the husband thinks we need.
Oh and we threw out Nigel's frog. The story there is shortly after we adopted Nigel one of my best friends sent him a "welcome to the family" package including a stuffed frog with a squeaker in it from Target. He absolutely loved it. He loved it to pieces literally. It's a body with four floppy legs sprouting off of it, the squeaker being in the body surrounded by the normal stuffed animal stuffing. We christened it simply Frog. Nigel would carry Frog around in his mouth, run after him if you dared to kick or throw Frog and he would even station Frog to do important tasks like watch the door if the husband was sleeping and I was still awake. I think Frog is Nigel's trusted sidekick. The first Frog met his end when Nigel had finally ripped of all four legs and I could no longer sew them back on. He ripped all the stuffing out of it and left it around the house. I must have under-estimated how much Nigel loved Frog. I picked up the stuffing and the remaining pieces of Frog and carried them to the garbage can. It was after I deposited Frog, all his parts and then closed the lid that I realized Nigel was following my every move. He stationed himself at the garbage can and cried for a bit. Eventually Daddy, the husband, came home and Nigel's mourning period was over.
Luckily my parents are awesome. They were able to find a replacement Frog. (He also then acquired Mini-Frog who has become like a teddy bear, carried around and used to provide comfort. Mini-frog does not have the floppy legs and is smaller than Frog, Mini-frog often gets carried around in Nigel's mouth and even gets taken to bed when it is time for sleeping.) As soon as we got the new Frog out of the box, Nigel was thrilled. (He knows when we get a package from Mom and Dad that there will be something for him in there and gets excited anyway.) We took off the tags and gave it to him. He took the new Frog and walked around the coffee table, poked it with his nose and looked at it like he was trying to figure out how Frog was fixed and smelled different. He was happy.
That was a few months ago. We learned that when we weren't going to be watching him and Frog we needed to pick up Frog and put him somewhere Nigel couldn't get to him. Because if we don't watch Nigel he will chew up Frog. As it is when we are watching he takes Frog, hops around the living room and shakes the living daylights out of Frog. It is inevitable that Frogs legs come off. Today Frog's fourth leg was shaken off and we decided it was time for Frog to go, again. This time the husband distracted Nigel while I snuck it into the garbage can. So far he hasn't seemed to notice that Frog is missing. It does help that he now has Cow. Cow is built just like Frog only is a cow and has a rope tail. I think going to see his doggie friends helped distract him also. So for now Nigel will have to be content with all of his racket balls, Cow, Mini-Frog and the plethora of toys that he has gotten from family and friends.
Okay the secret is when he gets to Iowa at Mom and Dad's there will be a new Frog waiting for him. Luckily for me he's too busy sleeping to read my blog. So my favor to you is please don't tell him and ruin the secret okay?
Here I have to say Go Pats! I hope they win today's game against the Broncos. Sadly I will not be able to watch. Once again I regret our decision to not get AFN, Armed Forces Network which broadcasts American TV shows and important things like football overseas.
The husband and I have also starting going through our house and doing another purge of movies we haven't watched in years, Head over Heels anyone, and books that I read and didn't fall in love with. I was also mean and made the husband get rid of movies he hasn't watched since we met. I mean it's been almost 6 years now and if he hasn't watched them then he's not going. Of course I was willing to negotiate for any classics that just can not be parted with, however, we were able to come to terms with everything. (I still have my He-Man, She-Ra and Thundercats! And the promise of finishing those collections.) Tomorrow we finish our "project room" with the rest of the craft stuff and hopefully getting rid of random cables and other electronic pieces that the husband thinks we need.
Oh and we threw out Nigel's frog. The story there is shortly after we adopted Nigel one of my best friends sent him a "welcome to the family" package including a stuffed frog with a squeaker in it from Target. He absolutely loved it. He loved it to pieces literally. It's a body with four floppy legs sprouting off of it, the squeaker being in the body surrounded by the normal stuffed animal stuffing. We christened it simply Frog. Nigel would carry Frog around in his mouth, run after him if you dared to kick or throw Frog and he would even station Frog to do important tasks like watch the door if the husband was sleeping and I was still awake. I think Frog is Nigel's trusted sidekick. The first Frog met his end when Nigel had finally ripped of all four legs and I could no longer sew them back on. He ripped all the stuffing out of it and left it around the house. I must have under-estimated how much Nigel loved Frog. I picked up the stuffing and the remaining pieces of Frog and carried them to the garbage can. It was after I deposited Frog, all his parts and then closed the lid that I realized Nigel was following my every move. He stationed himself at the garbage can and cried for a bit. Eventually Daddy, the husband, came home and Nigel's mourning period was over.
Luckily my parents are awesome. They were able to find a replacement Frog. (He also then acquired Mini-Frog who has become like a teddy bear, carried around and used to provide comfort. Mini-frog does not have the floppy legs and is smaller than Frog, Mini-frog often gets carried around in Nigel's mouth and even gets taken to bed when it is time for sleeping.) As soon as we got the new Frog out of the box, Nigel was thrilled. (He knows when we get a package from Mom and Dad that there will be something for him in there and gets excited anyway.) We took off the tags and gave it to him. He took the new Frog and walked around the coffee table, poked it with his nose and looked at it like he was trying to figure out how Frog was fixed and smelled different. He was happy.
That was a few months ago. We learned that when we weren't going to be watching him and Frog we needed to pick up Frog and put him somewhere Nigel couldn't get to him. Because if we don't watch Nigel he will chew up Frog. As it is when we are watching he takes Frog, hops around the living room and shakes the living daylights out of Frog. It is inevitable that Frogs legs come off. Today Frog's fourth leg was shaken off and we decided it was time for Frog to go, again. This time the husband distracted Nigel while I snuck it into the garbage can. So far he hasn't seemed to notice that Frog is missing. It does help that he now has Cow. Cow is built just like Frog only is a cow and has a rope tail. I think going to see his doggie friends helped distract him also. So for now Nigel will have to be content with all of his racket balls, Cow, Mini-Frog and the plethora of toys that he has gotten from family and friends.
Okay the secret is when he gets to Iowa at Mom and Dad's there will be a new Frog waiting for him. Luckily for me he's too busy sleeping to read my blog. So my favor to you is please don't tell him and ruin the secret okay?
Saturday, January 14, 2012
It's Either Laugh or Cry
It's come to the point where I'm stressed enough that I either needed to laugh hysterically for a while today or bawl. The husband and I were going through our stuff again, weeding out what we don't want or need and I was sitting on the floor. I don't remember why but I just laid back on the floor and just started laughing. For fifteen minutes I just laid there and laughed. In between bursts of chuckles I told the husband I'd lost it and finally gone off the deep end. He let me lay my head on his lap and just laugh it all out. I don't know what finally tripped the trigger, but I just needed to laugh.
It made me feel better. I feel that laughter let me gain the ability to just let things slide off my back. I knew before and now that worrying isn't going to change anything. Being angry won't change anything. Being frustrated beyond belief won't change anything. Worrying won't change anything either. I wasn't able to let go of those emotions. Now I can, well better anyway. If I truly could I wouldn't be awake at 3 am typing instead of sleeping.
Oh, still no orders yet. 27 days out and no orders. But they changed the post we're going to live on. Still in Germany. (YAY!) And the word around the interwebz is that our new assignment is a better post, bigger for sure. Another plus, according to my friend it's WAY closer to IKEA. That's got to be a good thing. Well maybe not for the husband but we'll be able to get furniture I like (and can afford) instead of just furniture we can afford. All in all, not a bad day.
Ah, yes. Germany I can't wait to meet you. If someone invents a magic potion or an implant to give me the ability to speak German please let me know. My brain does not seem to be wired to accept any language other than English, and not UK English, but American English. Alright, time for bed.
It made me feel better. I feel that laughter let me gain the ability to just let things slide off my back. I knew before and now that worrying isn't going to change anything. Being angry won't change anything. Being frustrated beyond belief won't change anything. Worrying won't change anything either. I wasn't able to let go of those emotions. Now I can, well better anyway. If I truly could I wouldn't be awake at 3 am typing instead of sleeping.
Oh, still no orders yet. 27 days out and no orders. But they changed the post we're going to live on. Still in Germany. (YAY!) And the word around the interwebz is that our new assignment is a better post, bigger for sure. Another plus, according to my friend it's WAY closer to IKEA. That's got to be a good thing. Well maybe not for the husband but we'll be able to get furniture I like (and can afford) instead of just furniture we can afford. All in all, not a bad day.
Ah, yes. Germany I can't wait to meet you. If someone invents a magic potion or an implant to give me the ability to speak German please let me know. My brain does not seem to be wired to accept any language other than English, and not UK English, but American English. Alright, time for bed.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
I do my best thinking at night.
At least I like to think I so, others might say I don't think at all. That would be false, I think. I'm just not sure I think in the same way other people think; I manage to connect topics my husband has absolutely no clue how I do it. When I try to explain to him my thought process and how I got from point A to point B he just looks at me like a deer in the headlights. I'd give you an example but I can't think of any right now. I don't have perfect recall and I don't keep track of my thought process for too long. On to what I've been thinking about so far tonight. I will admit my thoughts tonight are all over the place, it happens when I get stressed out. I'm trying to keep to one topic at a time, but my segues will not be smooth at all.
As most of you probably know the husband, Nigel and I are getting ready to move, or in military terms a PCS. (Permanent change of Station for all my military acronym challenged friends.) Now most military families will tell you a PCS is stressful, a PCS where one of the stations is OCONUS is really stressful, but an OCONUS to OCONUS PCS I think is the worst. (OCONUS = Outside Continental US, which also means CONUS = Continental US) For us we're moving from South Korea to Germany with a trip to visit family and friends between. So we're looking at 2 international flights one of which will be 15 hours worth of air time. It is entirely possible we will land in the US before our flight left South Korea. That combined with the fact it seems impossible for me to sleep on an airplane will lead to a very grumpy me. I really wish we could afford to fly first class, the seats in airplanes are SO TINY! And to be wedged in next to complete strangers for 15 hours is, well I'll just say it's an experience. On my flight from Minneapolis to Tokyo I sat next to a very nice Chinese man, he spoke little English and of course I speak no Chinese. We said hello and nodded at each other, he would motion to ask if I needed out to go to the restroom or walk around and best of all he would yell at the guy sitting in front of me for leaning his seat all the way back making it impossible for me to eat at meal times. I lucked out and had very nice seat neighbors on my long flight, but I've heard horror stories. Though my seat neighbors were nice, it was a little awkward being jammed in so tight with complete strangers! So if anyone wants to give money towards buying first class tickets please let me know. Anyone? Anyone at all? Yeah kind of thought not... A girl can dream.
Moving might not be as stressful if we had orders. They're the military's key to moving. It's simply a piece of paper, okay a few pieces, saying, "Hey you, you're officially going here." Right now we have a nice little email saying we're unofficially going to Germany but that's not good enough to do more than look up information on the internet. And since it's still unofficial it can change! (It could still change even after it's official but it is less likely then.) Without having orders we can't get our plane tickets; we can't set up movers to come pack up our HHG (household goods). Since we don't know when we're flying out of Korea we don't know when we need to schedule Nigel's vet appointment to get his American health certificate, that has to be done within 10 days before leaving the country. Without his US certificate we can't get his Korean certificate, which the offices to do that are only open certain days and times. With out all of this, Nigel can't fly. Besides the fact there's always a chance we'll get to the airport and they'll say "oh, we don't have enough room for your dog on this flight, he'll be on XYZ leaving tomorrow. Enjoy your flight right now though!" (Small chance, but again it's happened.) There's only about 500 more things we, well mostly Seth because to the military I'm just extra baggage, have to do before we leave. This is where I'm going to say that I wish I knew as little about moving as I did when we moved to Korea. I was a lot less stressed two years ago.
One of the reasons I'm more stressed is two years ago my grandmother was not dying. I haven't said much about this to anyone but my Gramma is in hospice with cancer and she's close to passing. She's been hanging in for quite a while with this, she was placed (checked in? I don't know the right term) in hospice beginning of November or the end of October I think. (I am really bad at dates.) I was warned the cancer could very well take her before Thanksgiving, she made it to that though! Then I was warned she might not make it to her and my Grampa's 65th wedding anniversary, that was December 1. (65 years! That's amazing!!) She made it and was still in pretty good spirits from what I heard. Then it was Christmas, still hanging in there though. Gramma's tough, I think it's the Danish stubborn streak.. The family's met with the funeral director to begin making final arrangements. So I'm facing the fact that there's not much I can do to make it back to see her. Tickets are $1800, we just can not afford that right now. I'd feel horrible about not being able to afford the ticket except before I left the US in 2010, I made my peace with the fact that I might miss a funeral or two. Seth and I talked about it and made the fiscally responsible decisions that suck. I made my peace with the fact that I might not see all of my family members again here on earth. Now that we're so close, yet so very far, to flying back to the US I may not get to see her again. That's what is hitting me hard.
I had made peace with our decisions; I was okay with it. And now I'm not. It just doesn't seem fair that we're this close to being back and she might pass away before we get there. That being said, Gramma's lived a full life. She's been married for 65 years! (Again way to go Gramma and Grampa!!) She's raised her children, she's seen her grandchildren grow, she's seen her great grandchildren born and grow. I can't say that she doesn't have any regrets because I don't know. I do know she is loved, she has gotten to experience a lot, and I know that she loves all of her family. I also know she's in pain. A lot of pain. She can't swallow pills any longer, all her pain medication has to come through injections. She hasn't had much of an appetite for months. I don't want her to suffer, I don't want to pray that she lives long enough for me to see her again. I can't be that selfish. I don't want her to suffer just so I can see her again. I want her to be happy; I want her to be pain free.
I haven't mentioned my Gramma being sick because I don't want people to be sorry she's dying. I'm happy she lived. I am happy she has been part of my life. I will miss her when she passes, but I will be thankful she no longer has to suffer the pain that the cancer and other illnesses are bringing to her body. She will be free of that pain. I have no proof, but I firmly believe that she will continue to watch over all of us and be the matriarch of the family from Heaven. If you know Gramma at all you know she's the one in charge of the family, she is the Matriarch. When Gramma lays down the law, you don't argue. I believe she will still be with all of us as our guardian angel like my Uncle Bill already is and I know she will still be in all of our hearts. This knowledge in addition to the fact I said good bye already is what is keeping the guilt from overwhelming me.
Typing all of this out has been therapeutic. I feel better about my decisions. It hasn't been easy to say, "No, I can't fly back to Iowa right now because of money," but to take care of Seth and I, I've had to say it. I know Gramma understands, I know she and I both said good bye before I left Iowa knowing we might not see each other again before she passed. Putting it all together in text helps me reaffirm I'm doing the right thing, I don't love Gramma any less because I've had to make hard decisions. I don't love her any less because I'm still in Korea with my husband. I love my Gramma, always have and I always will.
Now if the military would just get off their behinds and get us orders I'd be a lot happier. I'm tired of hearing excuse after excuse as to why we don't have them. We're 30 days from leaving people, we kind of need them! As of right now the hold up is my medical screening is sitting on the desk of a Korean woman in Seoul who won't answer her phone and only works two days a week. Who knows if this is true or just another lie because someone doesn't want to do their job or doesn't want to be bothered to call and check like they're supposed to. Just another reason on my list of why I'm glad to e leaving Korea. (Yes I realize that it's not going to necessarily be better anywhere else.) *sigh* Back to dreaming it has to be better at the next duty station. Hey, at least then I'll be in Europe. Alright I'm off to dream of all the places we won't be able to afford to go in Europe and silently wish my parents win the lottery so they can give me a travel allowance. (I would get a European travel allowance right Mom and Dad? I promise awesome pictures and souvenirs!)
As most of you probably know the husband, Nigel and I are getting ready to move, or in military terms a PCS. (Permanent change of Station for all my military acronym challenged friends.) Now most military families will tell you a PCS is stressful, a PCS where one of the stations is OCONUS is really stressful, but an OCONUS to OCONUS PCS I think is the worst. (OCONUS = Outside Continental US, which also means CONUS = Continental US) For us we're moving from South Korea to Germany with a trip to visit family and friends between. So we're looking at 2 international flights one of which will be 15 hours worth of air time. It is entirely possible we will land in the US before our flight left South Korea. That combined with the fact it seems impossible for me to sleep on an airplane will lead to a very grumpy me. I really wish we could afford to fly first class, the seats in airplanes are SO TINY! And to be wedged in next to complete strangers for 15 hours is, well I'll just say it's an experience. On my flight from Minneapolis to Tokyo I sat next to a very nice Chinese man, he spoke little English and of course I speak no Chinese. We said hello and nodded at each other, he would motion to ask if I needed out to go to the restroom or walk around and best of all he would yell at the guy sitting in front of me for leaning his seat all the way back making it impossible for me to eat at meal times. I lucked out and had very nice seat neighbors on my long flight, but I've heard horror stories. Though my seat neighbors were nice, it was a little awkward being jammed in so tight with complete strangers! So if anyone wants to give money towards buying first class tickets please let me know. Anyone? Anyone at all? Yeah kind of thought not... A girl can dream.
Moving might not be as stressful if we had orders. They're the military's key to moving. It's simply a piece of paper, okay a few pieces, saying, "Hey you, you're officially going here." Right now we have a nice little email saying we're unofficially going to Germany but that's not good enough to do more than look up information on the internet. And since it's still unofficial it can change! (It could still change even after it's official but it is less likely then.) Without having orders we can't get our plane tickets; we can't set up movers to come pack up our HHG (household goods). Since we don't know when we're flying out of Korea we don't know when we need to schedule Nigel's vet appointment to get his American health certificate, that has to be done within 10 days before leaving the country. Without his US certificate we can't get his Korean certificate, which the offices to do that are only open certain days and times. With out all of this, Nigel can't fly. Besides the fact there's always a chance we'll get to the airport and they'll say "oh, we don't have enough room for your dog on this flight, he'll be on XYZ leaving tomorrow. Enjoy your flight right now though!" (Small chance, but again it's happened.) There's only about 500 more things we, well mostly Seth because to the military I'm just extra baggage, have to do before we leave. This is where I'm going to say that I wish I knew as little about moving as I did when we moved to Korea. I was a lot less stressed two years ago.
One of the reasons I'm more stressed is two years ago my grandmother was not dying. I haven't said much about this to anyone but my Gramma is in hospice with cancer and she's close to passing. She's been hanging in for quite a while with this, she was placed (checked in? I don't know the right term) in hospice beginning of November or the end of October I think. (I am really bad at dates.) I was warned the cancer could very well take her before Thanksgiving, she made it to that though! Then I was warned she might not make it to her and my Grampa's 65th wedding anniversary, that was December 1. (65 years! That's amazing!!) She made it and was still in pretty good spirits from what I heard. Then it was Christmas, still hanging in there though. Gramma's tough, I think it's the Danish stubborn streak.. The family's met with the funeral director to begin making final arrangements. So I'm facing the fact that there's not much I can do to make it back to see her. Tickets are $1800, we just can not afford that right now. I'd feel horrible about not being able to afford the ticket except before I left the US in 2010, I made my peace with the fact that I might miss a funeral or two. Seth and I talked about it and made the fiscally responsible decisions that suck. I made my peace with the fact that I might not see all of my family members again here on earth. Now that we're so close, yet so very far, to flying back to the US I may not get to see her again. That's what is hitting me hard.
I had made peace with our decisions; I was okay with it. And now I'm not. It just doesn't seem fair that we're this close to being back and she might pass away before we get there. That being said, Gramma's lived a full life. She's been married for 65 years! (Again way to go Gramma and Grampa!!) She's raised her children, she's seen her grandchildren grow, she's seen her great grandchildren born and grow. I can't say that she doesn't have any regrets because I don't know. I do know she is loved, she has gotten to experience a lot, and I know that she loves all of her family. I also know she's in pain. A lot of pain. She can't swallow pills any longer, all her pain medication has to come through injections. She hasn't had much of an appetite for months. I don't want her to suffer, I don't want to pray that she lives long enough for me to see her again. I can't be that selfish. I don't want her to suffer just so I can see her again. I want her to be happy; I want her to be pain free.
I haven't mentioned my Gramma being sick because I don't want people to be sorry she's dying. I'm happy she lived. I am happy she has been part of my life. I will miss her when she passes, but I will be thankful she no longer has to suffer the pain that the cancer and other illnesses are bringing to her body. She will be free of that pain. I have no proof, but I firmly believe that she will continue to watch over all of us and be the matriarch of the family from Heaven. If you know Gramma at all you know she's the one in charge of the family, she is the Matriarch. When Gramma lays down the law, you don't argue. I believe she will still be with all of us as our guardian angel like my Uncle Bill already is and I know she will still be in all of our hearts. This knowledge in addition to the fact I said good bye already is what is keeping the guilt from overwhelming me.
Typing all of this out has been therapeutic. I feel better about my decisions. It hasn't been easy to say, "No, I can't fly back to Iowa right now because of money," but to take care of Seth and I, I've had to say it. I know Gramma understands, I know she and I both said good bye before I left Iowa knowing we might not see each other again before she passed. Putting it all together in text helps me reaffirm I'm doing the right thing, I don't love Gramma any less because I've had to make hard decisions. I don't love her any less because I'm still in Korea with my husband. I love my Gramma, always have and I always will.
Now if the military would just get off their behinds and get us orders I'd be a lot happier. I'm tired of hearing excuse after excuse as to why we don't have them. We're 30 days from leaving people, we kind of need them! As of right now the hold up is my medical screening is sitting on the desk of a Korean woman in Seoul who won't answer her phone and only works two days a week. Who knows if this is true or just another lie because someone doesn't want to do their job or doesn't want to be bothered to call and check like they're supposed to. Just another reason on my list of why I'm glad to e leaving Korea. (Yes I realize that it's not going to necessarily be better anywhere else.) *sigh* Back to dreaming it has to be better at the next duty station. Hey, at least then I'll be in Europe. Alright I'm off to dream of all the places we won't be able to afford to go in Europe and silently wish my parents win the lottery so they can give me a travel allowance. (I would get a European travel allowance right Mom and Dad? I promise awesome pictures and souvenirs!)
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Why am I doing this? Here's my novella on that very topic.
First, let me say this is a work in progress. I felt like typing and getting things off my chest and getting this blog started. I was tired of going through different templates again and again trying to find something I like, but something simple and easy to read. Apparently I'm too picky.
Second, I've been asking myself what do I want to do with this blog. (Good thing to establish right away I think.) What I've decided is that it's going to be many things. Primarily it will be a way for me to get the completely random thoughts swimming around in my head out, kind of a virtual journal. I'm going to write it with the intent of letting other people read it so it's not going to be all "Dear Diary" but more of a conversation. My close friends can tell you that they don't actually need to talk much when I get on a roll of getting jumbled thoughts out; I just like knowing that someone is actually taking the time to listen and try to help me sort out my thoughts. Since I've been living in Korea I haven't had a lot of that, it's been lonely here. And as wonderful as my husband is, he just can't sit and listen to me get through those conversations, he tries to help fix things and come up with solutions. I love him, but he doesn't get it sometimes.
Third, (I love lists and numbering things) this will be a way for our family and friends to keep up with what's going on. The important thing to remember is this blog will be public in that people I don't know can and will probably read it. It's going to be apparent that my husband is in the military, it's going to be apparent he's deployed at some point, and knowing me I'm going to express my frustrations and opinions on here. That being said I will do everything in my power to protect myself and my husband; yes I'm going to do my damnedest to follow OPSEC and PERSEC guidelines. (And here would be where I was going to include a nice link to allow everyone who doesn't know what OPSEC and PERSEC actually means read up on it.) Alas, there isn't a nice little explanation because no one on the internet agrees what these two mean. So instead you get my version. To all my military savvy family and friends you can read to tell me I'm wrong, get a different spin on these hot topics or just skip this entirely. If I find a nice textbook definition I'll post it. (Or if someone has one please pass it along to me!)
My Personal Definitions of OPSEC and PERSEC
Some people will say that my approach is overkill, some will say I'm not doing enough, but I will share only what my husband and I feel is warranted. This is the world wide web, I don't know who is reading this and I don't want my blog to be the reason some one's husband, wife, Daddy, Mommy, Aunt, Uncle, cousin, fiance, friend or foe can't come home the day they're supposed to.
And lastly, the final reason I'm going to write this blog is because I want to practice writing again. I miss putting my thoughts to paper. I still harbor that secret, buried deep down, tiny ray of a dream that I can be a published author. To write, I need to write. There is is friends, my first big secret revealed via this blog. I've wanted to be an author for as long as I can remember. I've always harbored a secret dream to be published, for people to read my words and think "wow, that was a great story but MAN does her grammar suck!" Seriously. I know my grammar sucks, but you should see what this would look like without spell check!
So I'm going to assume (yeah I know I'm probably making an ass out of myself here) that you're asking yourself what I mean by the title "My Life, Not Lorelai Gilmore's."
Here's my thought process:
So this blog will be about me, about what I think, about what crazy or normal things I'm currently doing. It will involve the plethera of family and friends I have already and those I've yet to meet. It will involve stories about Nigel the cute, crazy, most likely gay Cocker Spaniel we rescued from the streets of Seoul. It is about my life, not Lorelai Gilmore's.
Second, I've been asking myself what do I want to do with this blog. (Good thing to establish right away I think.) What I've decided is that it's going to be many things. Primarily it will be a way for me to get the completely random thoughts swimming around in my head out, kind of a virtual journal. I'm going to write it with the intent of letting other people read it so it's not going to be all "Dear Diary" but more of a conversation. My close friends can tell you that they don't actually need to talk much when I get on a roll of getting jumbled thoughts out; I just like knowing that someone is actually taking the time to listen and try to help me sort out my thoughts. Since I've been living in Korea I haven't had a lot of that, it's been lonely here. And as wonderful as my husband is, he just can't sit and listen to me get through those conversations, he tries to help fix things and come up with solutions. I love him, but he doesn't get it sometimes.
Third, (I love lists and numbering things) this will be a way for our family and friends to keep up with what's going on. The important thing to remember is this blog will be public in that people I don't know can and will probably read it. It's going to be apparent that my husband is in the military, it's going to be apparent he's deployed at some point, and knowing me I'm going to express my frustrations and opinions on here. That being said I will do everything in my power to protect myself and my husband; yes I'm going to do my damnedest to follow OPSEC and PERSEC guidelines. (And here would be where I was going to include a nice link to allow everyone who doesn't know what OPSEC and PERSEC actually means read up on it.) Alas, there isn't a nice little explanation because no one on the internet agrees what these two mean. So instead you get my version. To all my military savvy family and friends you can read to tell me I'm wrong, get a different spin on these hot topics or just skip this entirely. If I find a nice textbook definition I'll post it. (Or if someone has one please pass it along to me!)
My Personal Definitions of OPSEC and PERSEC
- OPSEC is an acronym for Operation Security or Operational Security (depends on who you talk to, what their background is and how well they spell). The key here is not to reveal anything that may place missions, service members, civilians, intelligence or any information about the aforementioned things to the enemy so they can use it in any way, shape or form. So DO NOT use any dates here (or any where else for that matter) about when troops are moving, when the husband's deploying, what his unit is, or anything else along those lines. If you're not sure if you should post it, don't post it. It's better to be safe than sorry. OPSEC is about protecting operations.
- PERSEC is an acronym for Personal Security; information about people. So I'm not going to tell you enough information that you can figure out how to get to my house or when I'll be home alone or give you the inside track on how to steal my financial information. PERSEC is about protecting yourself and your personal information.
Some people will say that my approach is overkill, some will say I'm not doing enough, but I will share only what my husband and I feel is warranted. This is the world wide web, I don't know who is reading this and I don't want my blog to be the reason some one's husband, wife, Daddy, Mommy, Aunt, Uncle, cousin, fiance, friend or foe can't come home the day they're supposed to.
And lastly, the final reason I'm going to write this blog is because I want to practice writing again. I miss putting my thoughts to paper. I still harbor that secret, buried deep down, tiny ray of a dream that I can be a published author. To write, I need to write. There is is friends, my first big secret revealed via this blog. I've wanted to be an author for as long as I can remember. I've always harbored a secret dream to be published, for people to read my words and think "wow, that was a great story but MAN does her grammar suck!" Seriously. I know my grammar sucks, but you should see what this would look like without spell check!
So I'm going to assume (yeah I know I'm probably making an ass out of myself here) that you're asking yourself what I mean by the title "My Life, Not Lorelai Gilmore's."
Here's my thought process:
- When I was little, and still sometimes now, my Grammy called me Laura Lye. I liked that she called me that, she didn't call anyone else in the family Laura Lye. No one else was named Laura, so it just didn't make sense. She could call all of us sweetie, or hun, or any other numerous terms of endearment. I was the only Laura Lye. I decided I like Lorelai spelling a lot better, and it reminds me less of a soap experience that makes my skin hurt 20 years later.
- I really like the show Gilmore Girls, I own all seven seasons on DVD and watch them over and over again. It was on the WB and stared Lauren Graham and Alexis Bledel. It is a great show, well written (until season 7), full of whit, sarcasm and numerous references to books, music, people, pop culture and so many other random things I can't tell you how the writers did it.
- I began to imagine what my life would be like if I were more like Lorelai Gilmore. She had good clothes, great shoes, loved her hair, her enormous knowledge of pop culture, books, etc. She was well spoken, funny, smart, hard working, beautiful. I wanted a fictional character's life. Obviously that didn't happen. I didn't go off the deep end, trying to turn myself into Lorelai Gilmore, but I did have envy. (Who hasn't envied a fictional character though?)
- Lately I've been unhappy, and I've been evaluating why I'm feeling this way. That's part of the reason I started this blog, to get it all out. One of the things I'm doing is celebrating my life, my choices. I'm about to turn 30 and I'm looking back on what I've accomplished so far and enjoying what I've done; I'm embracing that this is my life. It's not anyone else's, all the choices I've made have been mine. I'm owning my life for lack of a better term.
- The blog name came about from that decison, to celebrate who I am. Other than a few months in kindergarten where I REALLY wanted to be Maverick's girlfriend from Top Gun, Lorelai Gilmore was the fictional character I wanted to be.
So this blog will be about me, about what I think, about what crazy or normal things I'm currently doing. It will involve the plethera of family and friends I have already and those I've yet to meet. It will involve stories about Nigel the cute, crazy, most likely gay Cocker Spaniel we rescued from the streets of Seoul. It is about my life, not Lorelai Gilmore's.
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