Such Is Life

Photo credit: Joe & Colleen Federer

Federer Photography

Curtis and I are no strangers to separation.  From the time we started dating to the day of our wedding, we saw each other for only 7 chunks of time, each period being 10 days or less.  It was difficult to defend our story to people who didn’t know us.  Marrying a guy you’ve seen a total of 27 days since you started dating a year and a half ago wasn’t the greatest argument.  What was convincing was the fact that we’ve been best friends since we were twelve, and had survived separation due to mutual trust, great respect – our relationship was mature - and primarily, the grace of God. 

The grace of God. 

Since getting married, I’ve grown faster than I ever have before.  Thank God, because it barely keeps up with the other fact that I’ve learned more junk about myself than ever before.  Getting married is like adopting a mirror.  Roommates, family members, and even best friends don’t have to live as closely to you as your spouse does.  And it’s easy for life to point out things. 

Some days I think – poor guy ;)

Like I said, I’ve grown.  I find myself more capable of controlling my emotions.  I can endure separation.  I say that we’re no strangers to it, but there’s a difference between a long-distance relationship and moving across the ocean to be with your husband, the person that you are one with.  Your very flesh and bone.  Separation in this realm is a little wrong.  But in our world, it’s necessary.  I find myself taking a healthy (yes, healthy) numb approach.   I control my thoughts in terms of this.  I refuse to entertain pity.  Or despair.  Or even facts, sometimes.  I need not know when he’s coming back.  It could change, and probably will.  I need not know exactly where he is.  It makes me realize he’s not here.  It’s sometimes a game of fooling myself.  Of mind trickery.  I simply just don't get into it.

But then there are days.  You’d think I’d elaborate, but I have no desire to.  I guess that’s something I should refuse to entertain also.   Let’s just say the grace of God again steps in and I am carried.   It’s the one set of footprints in the sand, the storm that you can only sit through.  You just Keep Breathing. 

Waiting it out.  And finding stamina.

Haaaa Shooo Meow.

There's a common question my husband and I encounter.  

In small talk, we're often asked, "How's Lord Byron?"  

Lord Byron (バイロン) is our cat.  My husband picked him up from the animal shelter on base.  He was chosen because my husband liked how ornery he was, and he liked his character.  First his name was "Grandpa Cat" (which apparently equates grumpiness).  So when we were brainstorming names for our cat, we were trying to think of names our grandpas might have, names from an older generation.  I think we even googled "old man names."  Henry, Harold, Alfred, Ralph, Seymour, Stanley, Howard.  Nothing sat right.  Until we hit Byron.  My husband jumped on the idea of Lord Byron because of his love for poetry.  Yes, really.

Lord Byron is loud.  And large.  He's about 15.5 pounds and expresses himself through voice.  How poetic.  If he is meowing loudly in the stairwell (for echoed amplification), you know he's feeling neglected.  If he greets you with a airy rasp, you know he's just woken up.  If he's incessant and direct, you know he wants to be cuddled.  Now.  And if he's moaning, you know he's encountered a stray cat in our yard and will not tolerate.  Those times are always fun.

meooooooow

I've never been much of a cat lady, but I sure am now.  I don't know how to express this without being utterly cheesy, but he's been a great blessing to me.  We live the Navy life, i.e., long work days and a good dose of separation.  We are forward deployed, so deployments can be sporadic and plentiful.  I have been blessed with friends who fill the gap, yes, but Byron really keeps me company at home.  He talks back.  He demands cuddle time.  And he's good at it; I melt every time.  He's full of energy and spunk and is altogether entertaining.  My house is in no way empty when my husband is gone.  Because Byron fills it with his booming man cat voice.  And though it can get on my very last nerve, I think it's one of those things that will get me by.

Whep!

I'm not that great at this yet.  I read blogs almost every day.  And most people captivate me.  How is it that the world is full of so many great stories?  It blows my mind.  I don't write like that yet.  

I've had it easy before.  I started my first blog in order to document my DTS experience, which had a different discussion topic every week, complete with guest speaker.  So not only did I have a ton of reflections and ideas and messy mumbo jumbo running around in my head, I had experiences throughout the streets of West End Winnipeg and the huts of Eastern Uganda.  Not difficult to write about.  

It continued on through a transfer of universities, exploring Madison, and a Wildlife Management school in Tanzania and Kenya.  Again, exciting times.  

But now I have to become better.  I get easily disheartened by this blog.  I know I'm not bad, per se, but I need to grow.  So forgive me as I write with randomness.  Because the only solution I can come up with is to keep writing.  And letting it be a bit of struggle.  I need to avoid having a journal blog.  I'm not going to tell you what I ate for lunch today.  

So I will pursue meaning.  And few words.  Well, minimal words.  

Some posts will be touristy.  I live in Japan, and refuse to avoid that.  But I hope also to make something more than a travel memoir.  

Bear with me.  :)

Infectious

I tend to share obsessions with those I'm closest to.  Not exactly common ground we come in with, but more like things that are contagious.  My closest friend was obsessed with the Friends series when it was still running.  It didn't take long for me to catch the bug and now my husband loves it too.  Now that we're married - oh, and on the same continent - I have him hooked.  We both love Japanese egg sandwiches, a drink I call miruku ratte (milk latte), and baumkuchens (sponge cake).  Another friend showed me how freaking delicious Kahlua milk is.  Over the years, it's been various coffee shops, Arizona iced tea, Velveeta Shells & Cheese, edamame, Indian cuisine, Target stores, blueberry n cream frappuccinos, She's the Man, and kettle corn.  We tend to go through phases together.  And I guess I'm downstream, because I was shown this video, and here I am again.  Addicted.  Take a peek; I don't want to be the tail end.

Be Good Now

More often than not, we don't know how we appear to the world, how much we mean, impact.  So that just means we have to keep sowing seeds.  Being good, seeing good, sparking good.  Our ripples are unknown to us.  And also our lack of ripple when we may attempt one.  Some of our efforts are effective, blessing people and throwing more camaraderie and goodwill into the world.  But some of our efforts go nowhere.  They may fall on hard hearts or go unnoticed.  Some of our ripples are even unintentional.  We are simply being ourselves. But the good majority of our efforts go unrewarded. We may never know how a smile to a stranger, talking to a friend or writing an article will effect the world.  Where it will go and how far.  So our efforts have to be rewards in themselves.  They at least provide a building of our character.  We gain more hope, more will towards selflessness.  

I recently experienced being rewarded by seeing a ripple of something I did unintentionally.  A friend of mine, Arima Rose, recently started a blog devoted to her outrageous adventures through Jewish pilgrimage to Israel and Peace Corps volunteering in West Africa.  Yeh, I think that story needs to be told.  It goes without saying that I am so utterly crazy excited for her, and was enthusiastically expressing that over Skype yesterday.  Little did I know she was disheartened by selling everything she owns in order to prepare for this trip.  I can imagine how difficult that would be, but my initial reaction was utter joy.  She is selling.  Everything.  She owns.  She's shedding physical possession for the sake of an adventure.  And to me that is exciting.  I guess we are contagious to each other.  With or without knowing it, we can bring others up or down.  

So bring someone up today.  Little do you know, you have the power to.  

In My Dreams Awake

I'm always just a little bit lost.  Or maybe I'm wandering.  Speculating.  

Oh my gosh.  My aspirations are becoming tangible.  In my mind, I always put a little word pipe in front of the thought of my dreams.  Not as if they can't or won't come true.  Not in a sense that they're impossible.  Just in a sense that they're always in the future.  Out there.  Years from now.  And it freaks me out that I'm actually, really, seriously looking into it.  I have a list of real, living, in-the-flesh safari guides and they're like celebrities to me because I want to be them.  Well, I want to be me, of course.  Just in their context.  And I e-mailed them yesterday.  And asked for their help.  Because though I have an idea of how this could all work out, there are still so many mysterious parts.  And they're the experts, after all.  They've all, in some way, gotten themselves to working in Africa.  They're breathing the air and standing on the red dirt.  They're probably really grimy and I just want to be grimy too.  They're seeing wildlife day in and day out, and helping other people do it too.  I was in this context for 4 short months and I cannot even begin to describe the things I saw.  I thought I might die or get seriously injured a couple times.  Elephants and snakes can do that.  

Anyway.  

But now I have to think.  And I have to pray.  I have to pray first.  Because I have little idea.  Should I take a safari school now?  It seems inconceivable now.  Am I frozen?  Do I act now, or prepare now?  I will never feel ready, but where's the line between feeling and being?  There's this big cake in front of me.  It's so large.  And I have it but I want to eat it too.  I want family and I want adventure.  And I still believe I can.  Boom.  

Don't worry, I'm still breathing.  

Moving On Up

I do believe congratulations are in order!  Two years ago yesterday, my now husband was commissioned with his NROTC class by President Obama for service as officers in the US Navy.  So that means yesterday, Curt went up in the ranks from Ensign (O-1, the rank he was commissioned into) to Lieutenant Junior Grade (O-2).  He was pinned as LTJG with his good buddy, Jay (the bromance continues!), and as Captain James Jones said, they can no longer act like ignorant Ensigns.  They have to know what they're doing.  ;)  So kudos to two of the Navy's finest.  They've sure earned their keep.

Taking an oath with Capt. Jones

A single gold bar (O-1) to a single silver bar (O-2)