Step Class

Every now and then, a woman in my step class will bring her soldier-husband in for an attempt at a good step work out. Those poor guys. While the rest of us are all in unison, kicking and stepping, these guys are falling all over themselves. They do thier best, but they are so busy trying to figure out the moves that they clearly aren't getting a decent workout. Until we are all sent out to the track to run laps. That's when they run circles around us. I have to applaud the few retirees that come in regularly though. They have the routines memorized perfectly.


I might take off the 'Remember 9-11' mini film on the side of my screen. Of course I completely agree with it, but I just can't stand to have Bin Laden's ass-ugly mug on my blog.

A Trip to Seattle

A day at the Pike Place Market tends to mellow me out. My senses want to come back down to earth as I smell the exotic foods, piles of sweet-smelling fruit, brilliant flowered bouquets, homemade soaps and candles...even the rows of fish that wear the grimace of death have an inviting aroma, almost as though I were right there with the fishermen as they pluck thier catch from the ocean.

All kinds of interesting people strolled in and out of the shops today as they looked for nothing in particular, yet found many treats to take home. Young families, gay lovers, kids with blue hair, important looking business men, retired couples wearing thier favorite 'I love Seattle' T-shirts...there were even a few positive comments given to my husband who happened to be wearing an ARMY sweatshirt. Quite the opposite of what we expected considering some of the venders had 'Impeach Bush' signs on thier counters.

I think my favorite today was the numerous musicians who collected money on the street corners- all of them very talented, each with thier own unique expression. A scraggly haired man wearing rose-colored glasses and playing music with a simple violin captivated me the most. He used no bow, but played with a guitar pick instead. By his side lay a sad dog and an open case which held a modest amount of change. I wasn't quite sure why he was there. He should have been in an orchestra, possibly the one housed just a few miles up the street- the one that brings in so much more money than just his little bit of change.

As I listened intently to his music, he soon seemed to play just for me- his only audience on the busy street. I would glance away if his gaze caught mine, but I still couldn't help myself as I listened to the beautiful symphony he created with only the violin strings he stroked with his fingers. I had no cash to give, but I could tell he accepted my admiration as payment.

My husband took me to Seattle today, partly as a long over-due date to Pikes Place Market, partly to help me find the ballet studio I will be attending. I think it may be the only studio in the world that offers classes that fit my schedule, but I am willing to drive through the traffic to continue dancing. When we found the address, we couldn't help but notice the graffiti and all the old, worn buildings that surrounded the studio. My husband didn't like it and of course it made me a little nervous, but I soon noticed that no matter where we went in that city, graffiti and old buildings followed. I really don't mind. It makes it all feel so authentic. Independent-woman-in-the-middle-of-a-big-city-heading-to-dance-class-authentic.

I am more than excited.

48 Hours

The other day we received a written notice that we have 48 hours to take our Christmas lights down. I had completely forgotten they were still up. After a mouthful of dirty words for the housing authority, my husband (always the rebel) said he would get to the f-ing lights someday when he has the chance... Work keeps him so busy lately, I suppose I should attempt to rip the lights down myself. Personally, I appreciate the fact that they moniter the housing areas and help keep the white trash hidden. I feel slightly redneck, forgetting the lights like that.

I also visited the Army National Guard recruiters office. All I wanted to know was what kind of GI Bill I could possibly get, as compared to the reserves and active duty. The civilian recruiter fed me so much bullshit that I finally told her I was married to a soldier, corrected her lies until she corrected them herself, and then I politely walked out. I swear I have no luck with recruiters. Sometimes the only option that looks promising to me is the route I am currently taking- get a degree first, then possibly becoming an army nurse. I'm just beginning to realize that student loans will only take me so far before serious regret and overpriced tuition catches up anyway. I'm also getting frustrated because one of my teachers is an 80 year-old Russian who has an inability to speak decent English, and lacks any tolerance for students who ask questions because we would like to pass his damn class .

I caved in and did the ultimate no-no for Pacific Northwesterners...I bought rain boots and umbrellas for my daughters (think pink flowers and Hello Kitty.) For some reason, most natives won't even wear thier hoods around here, but the rain has been pouring for weeks and has no intention of leaving.

It's Sunday

I finally dragged myself to church...and my kids. I know that going at least once in awhile will do us some good. I feel kind of guilty for setting God on the back burner most of the time, and then dropping to my knees pleading for his help when my husband deploys. I just don't think it's supposed to work that way.

When I came home, I found my husband asleep with his head against a football as a make-shift pillow, game blaring on the tv. I know that the infantry can sleep pretty much anywhere, but a football for a pillow? I think he's taken the playoffs a little to far.

The neighbor is getting ready to deploy again. Thier friends moved in so the wives can help each other out while thier husbands are gone, and they will split the extra BAH, each making almost $600 a month on top of all the other pay. It's not a bad idea. But from what I know about my neighbor, I'm a little concerned that this is actually a brothel in the making.

Deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan are so common around here that no one even blinks anymore. Of course, very few smile about it. It's certainly not a matter of if your husband goes, but when and how many times. I think many wives learn to handle deployments fairly well. We go numb, have faith, keep busy, write to our soldier daily...whatever helps us get through. What I don't understand is how some wives can act like they don't even care- namely by cuddling up to soldiers that are still here. Some justify it by saying that thier husbands do the same thing, or that they are lonely. I just don't see how it could be so easy.

Local Airshow

I think the kiowas and chinooks are having to much fun. It gets so loud sometimes that we have to yell above the noise when standing outside. But I don't mind.

I love how the kiowas cut through the sky. I got so used to the oversized chinooks moving slowly that when the kiowas arrived, I was thoroughly impressed with thier speed. Living on a hill makes the performances even better. Except for the time a chinook got caught in a strong wind and lost control for a moment right above our neighborhood. That made me nervous as hell. I'm surprised that they are allowed to fly over housing at all.

I'm thinking....flight nurse.

Is it really January already?

I only have a few nursing prerequisites left, but with the regular day classes all taken, I have to take them in the evenings now. This creates a dilemma in the child care department. With my husband getting ready to go to the field for weeks on end, I'll be lucky if I can find a babysitter who wants to watch children until ten on school nights. And tonight I saw a sign that said I have to apply to get my associate degree in time. Where have I been? Why don't I know this stuff? I haven't even had a chance to figure out which universities I want to apply to. I guess any and all that offer nursing, since I still don't know where we are going. Such is the life of an army wife.

New Years Resolutions?

hmmm....nothing

As for my Statistics class, would someone please just shoot me now and get the torture overwith?