Jane of the Jungle

Monday was a great day.

I made my way up to the University of Tokyo with great anticipation.  Jane Goodall (THE Jane Goodall) was going to give a lecture on campus.  And I got to see her, AND hear her speak, AND get her autograph. 

Sigh.  I love her.

 

Jane told lots of stories about Gombe, where she did her research, and the chimpanzees there.  She even told us about her childhood and the important role that her mother played.  But the most refreshing part of her talk was her hope.  She came to speak to us primarily as a conservationist, and most her field have messages that are overwhelmingly depressing and desperate.  Maybe the situation is desperate, I don't know, but looking at the whole picture is more than we can handle.  Jane admitted that we are in bad shape.  But she had amazing hope for the oodles of young people living and acting responsibly, those choosing to not just learn, but to act and tell.  Coming from a woman whose done natural research since 1960 and has been involved in the discussion of conservation for decades?  It meant a lot. 

 

So thanks, Jane.  Here's to you. 

Just Can't Get Enough

Life is weird.

 

I would say that I’ve had the biggest struggle this year with my purpose. What am I doing here? What should I be doing now? Am I wasting my degree? Where is this all going? 

 

But the ironic thing is, I’ve also had the most frequent moments of clarity.  Where your heart beats inside your ears because you are experiencing something (or even just thinking about something) that affects you so deeply that it’s impossible to ignore.  And that, my friend, is when you know what you ought to do with your life.

 

Today was part chaos, part awesome.  I volunteered at the zoo, like I do most Sundays.  Our program involves a horn and antler display, and it’s always a struggle to present an Indian Elephant tusk or Arabian Oryx horn in Japanese.  There are weeks it’s fun and people are forgiving and though it’s a challenge, I make it through just fine.

 

Then there are days like today.  The people are constant, and overwhelming.  The kids are crazy.  The questions are non-stop.  And after about an hour, my brain is fried and I am just spent.  Other volunteers have to compensate for my lack of language ability, and I’m wondering why I even went for volunteering at a zoo where I can’t communicate well.  

 

What am I doing here?

 

But.  Then.

 

Morikaku san (the most hilarious zoo keeper I’ve ever met, and I can’t even understand him most of the time) told me that Miruku, our friendly female giraffe, had a BABY.  He took us volunteers behind the scenes and showed us Mama and baby, just one month old.  It was captivating, and I was so blessed to be standing that close to a giraffe that young.  She was absolutely fantastic; she took my breath away and made me forget the crappy day I had been having. 

 

It’s amazing that when you’re in your element, you’re just in your element, and nothing can steal your joy. 

In a Nutshell

So this is what we did in Singapore ...

 

We shopped in Little India.

 

 

We saw a lot of color.  Wowza!

 

 

We stumbled upon a rustic book store.

 

And a parrot farm.

 

 

We drank a lot of coffee.  Clearly.

 

We went to the Singapore Art Museum.  And marveled at how modern and most definitely not typical it all was.

 

 

We got swedish massages. Mmm.

 

We discovered the most perfect swing in a coffee shop in Holland Village.

 

 

We visited a fantastic national park.

 

And went inner-tubing and got a boat ride.

 

 

We got a blow pipe lesson. 

 

 

We met a very cranky fish.

 

 

We stayed in a swanky hotel for one night.

 

 

And I came home to a very under-satisfied affection junkie.

 

 

Welp, I'd call that a complete trip.  :)

The Good Samaritans

I went.  I saw.  I conquered. 

 

In other words, I LOVE Singapore. 

 

I'll put up photos and stories as I go, but seeing as it's the day after I arrived back in Japan, I need a little down time.  At the same time, I simply cannot wait to tell you just a little tidbit about what I first noticed.

 

Singaporeans are fantastic.  They are friendly and they go out of their way to help you.  Actually.  It's what we all dream to embody as a global (national, local... ) community. 

 

I flew into Changi Airport, and had decided to take the metro to my hotel.  I'm a train fiend in Japan, and the Singaporean lines seemed (and are) relatively simple.  A train came, and I was unsure whether or not to get on.  An old man approached me, asked me what station I sought, told me to get on, where to transfer and even which side of the platform to transfer to.  Boom, so helpful.

 

My husband and I are coffee shop hunters (see our well-intended yet temporarily neglected coffee blog here).  Not only does it get us great coffee from various cultures, it allows us to see the back alleys and undiscovered coves of a city.  A local feel, if you will.  We were hunting 40 Hands Coffee and definitely walking in the wrong direction.  As soon as a confused look even crossed our faces, a woman was at our aid and pointing us in the right direction, which happened to be the opposite way.

 

I could go on with approximately 37 more stories about how I benefitted from the help of strangers in Singapore, but I guess that would be overdoing it.  Moral of the story: go to Singapore and realize that we can all do better. 

Bewildered.

Dear Life,

Oooooh my goodness, you are so crazy.  I thought I was adventurous, but you are catching me off guard.  I am uttering overwhelmed.  And a little stupefied.  I appreciate the excitement you give, but seriously, I just want to go to bed for a while.  Are you really telling me that though this one ...

... just left yesterday, I'm about to fly to ...

... in two days?  You must think I'm crazy to follow you on this whirlwind.  Well, if that's what you need of me, I guess I'll oblige.  But don't you dare think you can make me do whatever you please.  I'm in charge.  I have the ... power ... or something.  You can't just toss me about.  Who do you think you are?  You're taking advantage of my fragile position in this world.  Why, I am offended that you think you can just barge in here and make your demands.  You know what?  Imma go to Singapore.  Because well, I guess I want to.  How you like them apples? 

 

So.  There.

 

Love, Carrie

The FamDamily

Sarah's here and making herself at home.  This woman is the most refreshing presence in my life, and these two weeks are going to be so utterly fantastic.  We may post updates, but don't expect much.  ;)

 

 

The Madness of Shibuya

The good thing about Tokyo being so enormous is that you can find an area that you enjoy.  There's a lot of variety.  I really like Meguro, where my favorite sushi-go-round is, and Harajuku, a shopping area with fantastic people watching.  One of the busiest areas is Shibuya, and if you say that name around here, it invokes thoughts of a certain famous intersection.  It goes every which way.  All directions.  If you have to go to the opposite corner, you don't have to walk to one corner and wait for the green to the other corner.  Traffic stops, it all turns green at once, and people walk in all directions.  It can be absolute and wonderful chaos, and you have to prepare yourself for it.  It's fun to watch and, luckily, there's a Starbucks situated perfectly on one of the corners.  Here's a little progression of what the intersection in Shibuya is like. 

 

 

 

Salt & Pepper

I had a great day. 

 

It's been a struggle to find people who become more than acquaintances.  It requires constant work and intention, and you often forget or get tired of trying.  I left a meeting on base today completely drained.  But I went to a lady "first date" at a coffee shop and was filled, to the brim, and refreshed more than I have been in a while.  I don't jive with all Navy wives, but I think I'm on the brink of making another really close friend.  And that's really important. 

 

I am so excited.

 

But unfortunately, I'm down again.  Please do not misunderstand me: I am so blessed to find any friends here.  And I am giddy with anticipation in waiting for these relationships to grow.  Like a six-year-old who returned from her first day of 1st grade with a whole bunch of new friends, I told my husband all about my new buddy, even the tidbits I knew he didn't want to know.  You're sometimes excited beyond the point of helping yourself.

 

I am jazzed.

 

But tonight, in lieu of seeing all my husband with his friends, his familiars and the people he loves to be around, I miss my best friend.  I have no excuse for feeling this way, and no justification.  My best friend will fly here in a week, and that is ... just too wonderful for words.  But I miss her.  I miss living life with her.  I miss going out with her in the way my husband is out with his friends right now.  The friends who I enjoy being around, but am not as familiar with.  The friends I don't have jokes with.  Who are still my acquaintances. 

 

They unintentionally sadden me.   Because what they have with each other?  I have that and more with a person who lives 8,000 miles away.  Who loves me deep enough to take time and money (and energy) to fly here to be with me.  Until then, I shall be sad.  But when she arrives, I expect I'll be full.  Full of that joy again.  Beyond anything I can grasp right now.  Oh when that day comes ...

 

It turns out wanderlust is a double-edged sword.

Out With My Oba-chans

What I love about living in Japan is that you can easily take the "tourist" out of yourself and see things typically unseen by foreign eyes. If you live in a culture that is any sort of hospitable (which Japan is), you'll be taken under someone's wing and shown the world of normalcy. 

 

Yesterday, I went out with a bunch of church ladies. Our church is Protection of the Holy Theotokos Church in Yokohama. There are very few English speakers, but Yuko is one and she loves to bring people together. She took me and four other women from our church, including our Matushka (priest's wife), to a family-owned pâté restaurant. Glorious. 

 

Allow me to introduce Engawa Inn. It's located in Den-enchofu, just south of Tokyo, and is a ritzy part of town. The houses were enormous and classy, but Engawa was anything but swank. I spent half the time confused and struggling with my Japanese, but I still found so much joy sitting around a table of familiar women in a quaint and cozy cafe. I guess the most important things are universal.

Yasai setto, vegetable plate

Banana mousse and kohi (coffee)

 

Pâté plate; oyster and spinach, cream cheese, and liver

The Awkward Self

I read this blog post this morning and it made my life.  This never-PC, bad ass missionary is so refreshing.  She actually tells it like it is and is a little obnoxious, which I soooo appreciate. 

 

I read her often but she encouraged me especially today, because I've been wondering about my own filter.  In the world of Navy wives, you're - ahem, for the most part - taken as you are.  I mean, in a community of young and old wives and mothers who have pretty much seen it all (and may spend days changing dirty diapers), we all realize that we are none to judge. 

 

But lately, oh man!  I've made a few people quite uncomfortable. 

 

Take Exhibit A.  I went to a Pampered Chef party a couple weeks ago.  When I got there, I sat down and started making conversation.  One women mentioned that she took orientation with our hostess, which told me she was new.  So I asked her how she was adjusting to life in Japan.  SHE (remember this) said that she likes it here, but finds the public toilets hard to adjust to (porcelain squatties mostly). 

 

I guess when I'm enabled, things get scary. 

 

In my attempt to encourage her, I made her completely uncomfortable.  I offered the perspective that these toilets are actually really nice compared to the dirt ones in East Africa (insert detailed description here) and that I think the ones in Japan are actually pretty sanitary because you don't have to touch anything ... and I completely killed our conversation. 

 

I made this woman's eyes bulge out a little bit, and I was so discouraged, since WOW I now realize just how filtered I have to be sometimes.  And how I don't trust myself to know when to dial it down.  I wonder if deep friendships can really be fostered if I'm constantly worried about saying the wrong thing.  I also resent the day I start talking about curtain patterns and recipes instead of my unadultered passion for Africa (and hey, maybe their toilets!), that I kind of really like homeless people, and how my husband gave me a sternum bruise from playing Candy Bars (that's for another post).  I guess when it all comes down to it, life goes on, and there are more fish friends in the sea.

 

Part of me is just a little bit awkward and a little bit much.  But I can live with that. 

Fall Showers

When it rains a lot in Minnesota, we get worms.  Well, I recently discovered Japan's counterpart.  We've been experiencing a lot of downpours and flood warnings.  And the result?  Snails.  We actually have to watch our step when we leave our house now. 

 

Check it out!

 

Right on our patio!

From Where He's Standing

Speaking of my last post, John Gossage recently came to Japan and photographed the normalcies.  Now that I've lived here a year, I found a little nostalgia in his work - the tone was dead on.  The trains.  The way the alleys look.  The bikes parked on every corner.  Even the density of people and the flow of foot traffic.  If you don't plan on coming to Japan, take a peek and get a glimpse anyway. 

From Where I'm Standing

 

This is the view from our 3rd level.  We have a big ol' driveway in front that is partly ours, but notice our main mode of transportation.  Heh. 

 

Other Navy families with houses like ours refer to them as 'vertical trailers.'  Though they are three stories, they shoot straight up, and each level is 'semai' - small, not spacious.  Our house is perfect for a young couple; we fit quite nicely.  And the higher you are, the better you can see.  Now, our view isn't the greatest thing, but it's a good look at a typical Japanese residential area.  Lots of haphazard colors and things jutting out to the sky.  Things aren't very pretty or coordinated here.  They're spontaneous and unorganized. 

 

BUT the character of Japan is unmatched.  It's homey and comfortable.  It isn't posh (except Ginza, that is), but it's clean.  It may not be organized and orderly, but it's distinctive.  And it works.  The urban areas of Japan are like giant games of Tetris; every bit of space is filled with a small house, a shop, a restaurant.  Underground, built on top, shoved in right there.  I haven't seen a yard in months.  But what we have in place of a yard is a makeshift patio and great people watching. 

 

Score.

Wipe the Dust Off

I am falling in love all over again with scripture.  I'm finding that I'm easily disgruntled, discouraged, or guilty when it comes to the interpretations of scripture (i.e., books that people write - Christian bookstores are enormous these days, no?).  I find I'm often subject to attempts of mass conviction.  And to be honest, an unfamiliar writer somewhere in the world trying to amp up my faith and tell me what we all do wrong and (hence) what I'm doing wrong?  Bogus.  I must admit, there are plenty of edifying books out there.  I could just eat up C.S. Lewis and Don Miller.  But I find the writers that lift you up are few and far between. 

 

But when I read scripture ... oh when I read scripture!

 

I am edified.  I am lifted up and filled to my brim.  I am enticed, and engaged, and even when I'm convicted, it's from a place of love and encouragement to the point where changing is exactly what I want to do.  What a concept!  To go back to the source is proving incredible.  Even delving the background, the history, the lineages is so refreshing.  I've started again at the beginning - the book of Genesis - and the answers are coming together.  The kind of person Cain was and the choices he made.  The necessity of Seth's existence.  The patriarchs leading up to Noah and the kind of fathers that they were.  The complete orchestration of the flood and what kind of phenomenon that was.  Have you ever seen streams come out of the sky and the barriers of the sea broken?  When reading this living and active Word, I see who God is.  In reading the story of our history, I see His face and His energies.  To nitpick the details is not to just gain scriptural background and history, it's to see the work of God, and to see His character through His actions.  It's to fear Him and respect Him.  Scripture, being living and active, seems to encourage in us a right (yet not complete) understanding and perspective of the Creator of the universe.  Want to know who God is?  Read His book.  The work, the curiosities, the questions answered and the infinitely more obtained are all worth it. 

 

Boom. 

Fuji san

Mount Fuji is massive.  I climbed it last week, and we even cheated.  But it is HUGE. 

 

We drove up to 5th station - about halfway up the mountain - and started climbing around 9:30 pm.  Up, up, up.  Lots of loose gravel, careful maneuvering, and boulder scaling.  To 6th station, 7th station, 8th station, and all the little huts in between that offered to put stamps on our walking sticks.  It took us 7 hours just to get that far.  Thank the good Lord we couldn't see how far we had to go. 

 

Overnight, we could see the city.  Yamanashi was at the base of the mountain, and Tokyo was further away, along the bay.  There were stars and lightning and city lights everywhere.  It was simply amazing. 

 

We watched the sunrise from 8th station at 5 am, and continued on in the heat through 9th station.  Still up, up, up.  Climbing and resting and climbing and water breaks.  And climbing.  When we finally walked through the torii gate to signify summit, it was about 7 o'clock in the morning.  Oh glorious.  Realizing we still had to get ourselves down the mountain, we quickly laid eyes on the volcanic crater, got our stamps, rested a bit, and started down. 

 

Oh the way down! 

 

Zig zag.  Left and right.  Loose gravel.  And thoughts of impending death.  Ok, maybe it wasn't that bad, but a clutz on a mountain scaling downward?  Bad idea.  I only fell once.  Yes, I pride myself on that.  But I wish I could've just fallen my way down that mountain.  With each step you take, you become more exhausted and robotic.  Step.  Step.  Step.  You feel your knees and your hips.  You dread taking off your boots and seeing what your feet look like. 

 

From the looks of the map, after the zig zags, things seem to level out.  You find hope.  It's not until you keep going in the downward direction that you realize it was false.  When the ground finally levels out, 5th station - your sweet destination - is fleeting.  You keep turning corners thinking you're there.  Only to find more rocks.  And gravel.  And paths that never end. 

 

Wah waaaah.

 

Along the way, I passed fresh looking climbers, ready to scale the mountain and reach the top.  I wanted to shout at them.  No!  What are you doing?  Turn back!  But I thought better of it.

 

After over 12 hours of movement.  I finally sat down in the car where my husband and mother-in-law were already resting.  And I kid you not, I was broken.  Emotionally.  After wallowing and weeping a little, I was better.  And ready for get some rest. 

 

It's funny that only after you climb do you realize that people would have to be crazy in order to trade a good night's sleep to climb a 12,300 foot mountain.  Who does that?! 

 

It was glorious to arrive home, take a shower and 4-hour nap, wake up only to go out for Indian food, and crash until the next morning.  Believe me, the views and the accomplishment were worth it.  Rarely have I laid eyes on such beauty - it was breath-taking!

 

Would I do it again?  Never in your life. 

 

8th Station. Right before sunrise.

 

 

 

200 meters to summit!

 

Me and my father-in-law at summit.

 

The crater.

 

Aomuke

I dropped my cat on his back yesterday.  Whep.  It was a mix of holding him upside down, him wishing to be released in a certain direction, and me trying to not break his hip.  Chaos.  Hence, dropped on his back.  But only from a foot in the air.  Yay? 

I find this super interesting and coincidental.  And NOT the universe yelling at me for dropping my poor little kittuh.

Mama Mania

I'm all over the place.

Babies are all I think about.  And that initially sounds like I'm anxious for pregnancy and motherhood.  Well, calm down.  That's only part of it.  There are days I'm freaking out.  Because you know what they call us NFP folks.  Honestly, I'm a big fan of NFP.  Not only has it helped me understand my body and its patterns, but it has greatly increased my faith and trust.  To give up any plans of my own and to realize that I'm not actually in control.  God is sovereign, and He'll give me babies when He wants to!  And it shall be perfect.  But of course, I will always be growing toward this level of trust.

Anyway.

There are days of panic, because I am smack dap in the middle of a pregnancy scare.  I kid you not.  And we conveniently have neighbors whose kids scream.  All.  The.  Freaking.  Time.  Could this really potentially be my life soon?  More in the last year than ever in my life have I seen more temper tantrums, freak out sessions, and drama from humans under the age of 10. 

And to be honest, I think it's all pretty ridiculous.  I've also face palmed more in the last year ...

Not my idea of sanity. 

Then there's the fact that life isn't planned out.  I have so much more to do and see and figure out!  My dreams are lofty.  Will they die as my children are born?

Oh that age old question. 

But then.  I.  Just.  Realize. 

I have my moments of clarity in which I'm brought to tears thinking about my children.  MY children.  And I can't handle NOT being pregnant.  Because they have names already.  And ideas and techniques and theories surrounding how they'll be raised, and how much their parents (hey that's me!) will love them.  I see photos of other peoples' exploring, wondering, playing, laughing, joyful kids, and I just want photos of MY exploring, wondering, playing, laughing, joyful kids. 

Kids are obnoxious.  And I haven't yet pushed the idea out of my head that motherhood will be like 24-hour babysitting without pay.  Because yes, it's constant attentiveness and care and discipline.  But I'm coming to accept that there's so much more to it.  Midst the meal-planning and education and cleaning up vomit every 3 seconds, there's just something about raising tiny humans.  That something is more extraordinary than anything else I will do.  Of that I am convinced.

Am I ready for this?  We'll have to see if the time is now. 

My New Friendly Folk

My soul is nomming.

I go through spurts of discontentment with life.  And then I go through a spurt of confusion because I'm never bored.  Why am I anxious?  My life is full, and I enjoy the things I do.  But the discontentment came every once in a blue moon. 

It took my best friend to make me realize what I was doing.  I was filling my time instead of my soul.  What is busy-ness if you're not doing the things that make you tick? 

Two days after this realization, I start volunteering at Kanazawa Zoo.  I was unsure of how it would pan out, me definitely not being a fluent speaker of Japanese.  But my first day there, I said to myself, This is it, and finally, I'm feeding my soul.

Week #1 at the zoo, I fed a giraffe.

This lovely lady also gave me kisses and lots of long, purple tongue on my shoulders.  What a flirt.  Her name is Miruku (literally "Milk").

Week #2, I got to play with their juvenile Black Rhinoceros, Fuka (pronounced who-kah, as in I am smoking a). 

She's 1 year 3 months, and she weighs over 400 kg (almost 900 lbs).  Her skin is so tough that they have to vaccinate her behind the ear.  Also, she is adorable. 

There are 4 subspecies of Black Rhinoceros, and they're all found throughout central and southern Africa.  They're all endangered.  In fact, the Western Black Rhinoceros was declared extinct in 2011 by the IUCN.  Fuka is an Eastern Black Rhinoceros.

Week #3 was yesterday.  My husband, Curt, was going to meet me when we were done with our program, but I ran into him when we were about to see the Indian Rhinoceros, so the zookeepers brough him back too!  Their male Indian Rhinoceros is Kintaro ("Golden Boy" or "Soldier").  He's 2000 kg (~4500 lbs). 

My new favorite thing about rhinos (at least the ones I've played around with) is that they're actually pretty affectionate.  They'll lean into your touch and turn so you can "scratch" their ribs (which is actually more like slapping - their skin is so tough!).  This proved dangerous for me yesterday as Kintaro leaned into my hand and pinned it against a bar!  My fault.  Thank God for on-the-ball, strong zookeepers and protective husbands.  ;)

Latest lesson: feed your soul.  Or you'll feel what it's like to not feed your soul.  I'm learning not only how to understand what I need, but also to get what I need when things aren't perfect (i.e., living in a foreign country).  Sometimes, you just have to make it happen and let yourself rely on others to accommodate you.  Boom.  Life is good.

Japan's Next Top?

There are moments in which I feel I have obtained the utmost randomness. 

For example,

I'm registered with a modeling agency out of Tokyo called Junes.  Many Navy wives (and children) pursue modeling while they're out here.  The Japanese seem fond of blonde hair and blue eyes.  It hasn't gone anywhere, my 'modeling career' with Junes, but hey, I went to a modeling fair on base and it was fun.  So I go to auditions when I get them and 100 percent of the time end up laughing at myself afterwards. 

It's great.

My first audition with Junes was a bit of a mishap.  I didn't understand the process.  Junes has your information and some photos on file, and when a job comes up, they email everyone with the information of audition date, job date, stipend, etc.  Those who are available email back and from that pot, they pick a choice few from their photos.  Those are the ones who audition.   I got the first email, responded, and ended up going down to their offices on audition day without understanding that I was indeed not selected for an audition.  Awkward.  But they were kind and let me audition anyway. 

And they had to photograph my hands.  Dang you, enormous writing bump! 

My second audition, I was actually selected for (yay!), and it was for an underwear ad.  Yeah ... great.  I was surrounded by Russian bombshells and was the only foreigner who didn't speak Japanese.  They put me in spandex and asked me to 'emphasize the breasts'.  I think I've said enough about that one. 

Bwahaha.

My third ever modeling audition was today.  For a car commercial.  In Spain.  With a $3,500 stipend and travel expenses.  Uhm.  Hi, I'm Carrie and I have no experience but I'm going to try my darndest.  So I made my way up to Ikejiri Ohashi (eh?) and ran into a Frenchman who would be my audition partner.  We were placed in a fake car and told that we have fake children behind us and are going on a fake road trip.  Oh, and that we're fake married.  So we laughed and had fun and gawked at the fake sea we were fake driving by.  It was by far the funnest (i.e., least awkward) audition yet, but still so utterly random.  Where am I?  What am I doing?  Who are these people?  All in a day's work.

I guess when given the right avenues, my awkwardness knows no bounds.  Power to me.

Fish = Friends

I've recently caught on to Mental Floss.  I don't read all their posts, because in reality, I would have to spend my entire day doing it.  But they seem to know that there are some of us quirky animal lovers out in the world, and they cater to us just fine.  Here's one that I found to be fascinating about a vegetarian shark. 

Derp Derp

My frequency is starting to look bad.  Yikes.  But let me explain.  I was on Skype a little over a week ago, and everything froze.  Then the dreaded grey screen of death known to mac users came up. 

And she wouldn't turn back on. 

We're working it out and hoping to get my mac life back together.  But in the meantime, I'm on my hubby's PC.  I'll try to keep up, even though I'm macified. 

This piggy backs on great news - my husband is home!  Hooray!  Two months is nowhere near what military wives often have to endure, but I missed him anyway.  His homecoming was sweet; what a glorious moment to see my man in uniform walking toward me on the pier.  The moment didn't last long - my instinct when reuniting is to run and jump into a hug. 

I'm probably the most obnoxious Navy wife ;)

Anyway. 

Times are still challenging; Curt works around 12-15 hours a day, depending.  Other days, he has duty or they take short underways in Tokyo Bay to complete various evolutions.  You gotta love inspection season.  Much of my time is spent wondering when my husband will come home and, I have to admit, resenting the fact that my universe orbits his life.  But I find I'm embracing the things I need, and lately, it's to get wacky.  Monday evening, Curt anticipated getting home at 1800.  Then texted that it would be another hour or so.  But lo and behold, when he walked in the door at 2030, I had lost my mind and had been singing to various obnoxious songs.  Oh, the beauty of karaoke in your living room.  He caught me during Donna Lewis' I Love You Always Forever. 

When I left my Japanese language class at 1845 on Wednesday, I got a call that it would be a few more hours before his return.  So I biked my little self down to Home's (home accents store) and bought 6 enormous pillows for our chow table.  Not only did I refuse to use a cart (hey, I'm buff!), I refrained from being defeated by the fact that I'm a bike rider.  Thank God I had bunji cords.  I still looked ridiculous with a tower of pillows swaying on the back end of my bike. 

Oh, the joy of embracing our woes and letting them take us to places and moods we shouldn't be.  Here's to eluding our better judgment and letting the wind take our crazy selves where it may.

Livin' on a Prayer

Oi vey.

Thing are low lately.  I swore off loneliness spring semester of my sophomore year of college.  I had roommates who were never home, my best friend was abroad, and though I lived 20 minutes from my hometown, I was isolated when I was at school.  I had plenty of friends at my university, but living off-campus can dampen things, to the point of the dreaded loneliness.  I told myself I would never want to go through something like that again, and that I would do everything in my power to avoid it.

So remind me again why I married a forward-deployed sailor and moved across the ocean where I don't speak the language? 

LoL.  I actually laughed at myself today when I realized this.  The only child who can't stand being lonely (ok, I admit, who can really? But there are some self-proclaimed loners out there).  Check back in a year.  I bet you I've had a child and am DYING for some me time.  Oh Carrie Carrie Carrie ...

Today, I also realized that I am at a strange point in life.  It actually makes sense to trust God.  It's easier.  In a time when I have no idea where my life is going, when to have kids, or the opportunity for a new friend may present itself, trusting in the Lord looks pretty good.  I have little socially and professionally, and at the position I'm in, some God trust is the only thing that will keep me going. 

And I mean that.

I'm standing on a rock, and it took having little on my own to realize it. 

Pen Friends

Today, I held back some serious tears on the steps of the post office.  I should really wait to get home before I read my mail. 

Backstory.  Over a year ago, I stumbled on a Facebook page for a death row inmate.  I knew I couldn’t do much to clear his name (other than sign a petition and pass it on), so I decided to write him.  Little did I know that when they executed him in March, I would actually grieve  someone I never met, but definitely knew. 

After his death, I felt compelled.  Prison is a world that we don’t really understand or see.  Or really even think about.  It’s an interesting realm for films, but that’s really as far as we take it.  So I didn’t even know if there was any sort of database that helped people write letters to those who are incarcerated. 

I was wrong.  All you have to do is Google. 

I searched and searched through dozens of names to pick out 5 that stood out to me.  I was reluctant on one guy, and only God knows why I was so picky, but I wrote him anyway.  Today I got his first response.  And it was the most heartfelt response I’ve had yet.  Heartfelt and heart breaking.  He’s on death row (that right there told me this wouldn’t be easy).  He lives in solitary confinement.  Has for the past 14 years.  He almost mentioned the “hole.”  He spent 8 months there for getting caught with a cell phone. 

Oooooo k. 

On my ride home, I just felt like I was keeping this to myself.  I love writing letters; I love mail!  So this is something that is simple for me.  Maybe you like mail too.  Give it a try, and write someone.  You might be surprised the kind of characters you find. 

[They ask that you refrain if you are under 18, so I ask that you honor that if you’re a young’n!]