How are you today? I'm superfantastic.

30 Day Writing Challenge: Day 25

Think of any word. Search it on Google Images. Write something inspired by the 11th image.

After much deliberation, I chose the word waiting. The 11th image was this one, which was labeled something to do with a cat waiting for the mail. Looks more to me like a cat using the mail slot as a conveniently located window, but I guess then it doesn't really go with the theme.

These days, we're sort of in limbo while we wait to find out where we're going next, when we'll leave here, whether I'll get pregnant, and how all of these factors affect my job prospects. We won't leave here for at least five months (likely more like seven or eight) so there's plenty of living to be done in the meantime. But it's hard not to want to focus on what's next. What might be next. What we hope is next. We're spending far too much time on Zillow looking at houses that will only sell before we even know if we're actually moving to the city in which they're located.

And I have roughly as much power over these things as that cat does over when the mail comes. Which is fine. Such is life as a military spouse. It's really not that I want to control everything. It's just that I need to remind myself that life here in Okinawa goes on and I can't and don't want to wish these months away. We've got a long list of things left to see and do in Okinawa and the surrounding islands, as well as a couple of off-island trips planned.

These Okinawa years haven't turned out quite as planned, but what ever does? These have not been years of gainful and meaningful employment for me. But I did get my master's degree and will return to the US a better teacher. We haven't managed to expand our family, but we have taken advantage of the time we've had together as a family of two, whether traveling around Asia or hanging out at home. Whenever we get wherever we're going, time to hang out together will be in very short supply.

Life for as long as Raj stays in the military (so at least another ten years) is going to look like this - knowing that we'll only be where we are, Raj doing what he's doing, for two or three years. Even aside from the military transitions though, I think it's human nature to focus on the next stage. After I graduate, when I get a better job, after we're married, when we have kids, once the kids are in school, after we buy a house, once/when/after...

So as much as possible, I remind myself to turn away from the mail slot of what might be, to live in the present. It's ok to look forward to things, but not as a substitute for appreciating all the good things about life here and now. No matter what's next, there are really good things here and now.

Normal Married People

Raj was poking me or trying to tickle me or something. I told him, "Krystal said I should love on my sweet husband before we have to say goodbye again. Have you seen my sweet husband anywhere?"

To which he responded that this goodbye hardly even counted since "we'll only be apart for five days. Not like it's a long time."

"Uh, I think that is a long time for normal married people to be apart."

We're just coming off a month apart while Raj took an unexpected trip to Nepal. We've been apart for longer, but this one felt tough because we didn't know he was going until the day before and, for most of the month, had no idea at all of when he might come home. While they are always tentative, we typically have estimated return dates by the time he leaves. This time, he was told to pack for a week, but we knew it could be much longer. About a week in, we had an estimated return date of two weeks later. Then a second major earthquake happened and a Marine helicopter went missing.

Naturally, we already had plane tickets and hotel reservations to spend Memorial Day weekend on Kyushu, the southern-most island of mainland Japan. Because this is not our first rodeo, we also had flight insurance and hotel reservations without cancellation fees. Just after getting back from Kyushu, we were supposed to leave for three weeks in the States. Fortunately, the day we were going to get my tickets was the day we found out he was leaving. So we waited.

Yeah, Memorial Day came and went, as did our intended departure date for the US. I was explaining to a friend (who is a PLANNER and also not a military spouse) about how we were still waiting on getting the trip figured out. Her response: "I would claw my face off."

But what can you do? Raj did eventually get home and we switched dates around for our trip, buying my tickets once his amended leave got approved, five days before we left. Raj has two weeks of classes in Baltimore. The original plan was to visit his family in Albuquerque first, fly to San Antonio to visit my family for a week, then I'd stay here while he went to his classes. Now we're just doing the trip in reverse, visits after classes. Everything worked out and my face is intact.

To be clear, we do prefer to be together. I don't want to give anyone the idea that it isn't hard to be apart or to have everything quite so up in the air. It's just the reality of our lifestyle. Getting all worked up about it would be pretty futile.

Barring additional natural disasters, Raj should be home for most of the year we have left in Okinawa. He'll go on some exercises, always with slippery return dates that will frustrate me when they change several times. We'll keep buying trip insurance when we do book tickets. I'll keep working and dragon boating and generally making sure I have a life that doesn't entirely grind to a halt in the absence of my husband.

When we're together, we'll say I'm glad you're home. and It's good to be home. and maybe hold hands in the car while we're sitting in traffic. We'll also say What do you want for dinner? and I don't care, what do you want for dinner? and argue about who needs to get out of bed to turn on the ceiling fan when we forget. We'll adore and irritate and cuddle and maybe only kind of half-listen to each other. Like normal married people.

Until the next time we say Have a safe flight. and I'll miss you. and I'll miss you too. Come home soon.

Sailor's Wife Problems

6:00 am. Raj's alarm goes off. And keeps going off.

Crack one eye. He's not in bed.

Look over at open bathroom door. Nope, not in there either.

Why would he already be downstairs before 6:00 and WHY didn't he turn off his alarm before he got up? Rude.

Scoot over to his side of the bed. Turn off alarm.

Remember. Right. He's not downstairs. He's on a ship.

Go downstairs and make the coffee. Wonder whether you remembered to unset his daily alarm.

Repeat.

Ok yes, I know it's been a month! See, I watched the State of the Union and took notes and a couple of weeks later I even wrote a paragraph of a post on it. I'm just really swamped with grad school these days and when I take a break from it, the idea of pulling up a page of notes and using them to write something isn't the most appealing. So maybe we need to stick a pin in the SOTU post for the moment. The good news (for you) is that with Raj out of town, there will be a lot more making bad decicsions about procrastinating school work and staying up far later than is advisable, so probably (maybe?) more posts.

I get the joy of rediscovering you.

I was joking around with Sharon in the comments a while back about the silver linings of being rendered temporarily husbandless. A lot less shaving and cooking, a lot more crappy Hallmark Channel movies. Bed, remote, and pint of Ben & Jerry's Half Baked all to myself. Nobody to notice that I haven't worn pants that couldn't be accurately modified with yoga or pajama in maybe an inordinate amount of time. And yes, all of these represent upsides of deployment.

But there's a bigger thing, a real relationship thing too.

I can admit that, happy as I was to be leaving the dating scene, deciding that Raj was my forever guy did come with a twinge of sadness. If all goes according to plan (i.e., after a long and happy marriage, I die suddenly and painlessly in my sleep, freeing Raj to pursue an elderly Anne Hathaway) I'll never experience the thrill of new love again. All of the butterflies and fireworks, the nervous energy and hopeful checking of my phone.

Except I hadn't considered that the lucky thing for us military couples is that we get to have the butterflies over and over, just always for the same person. Raj and I managed to sustain the butterfly stage of our early relationship for a whole year, thanks to only seeing each other once a month. Then we started living in the same place and the butterflies quieted down.

Don't get me wrong, the long-term safe and cozy autumn kind of love suits me fine. Fireworks every day would be more pyrotechnics than I care for or require. But there's something to be said for the delicious anticipation of being together again after time apart. Feeling a downright teenage giddiness over hearing his voice on the phone or seeing his words on a screen or page, for me. Daydreaming about the next time I see him. It's all the fun of a crush with none of the suspense regarding whether he'll ever like me back.

Does all of this make it not suck to go to bed alone for months at a time? It does not. But getting to fall in love again with my favorite guy, well that's not bad at all, as silver linings go.

A Weird Thing About Okinawa

Well, about living in Okinawa as a military spouse. Today, I went to the Marine Gift Shop over on the big base to hand in my application to join the Marine Officers' Spouses Club.

Ok, some weird things there, but not the one from the title. The gift shop doesn't sell Marine Corps-related gifts, it sells Asian stuff. But it's run by the spouses club, with all profits going to charity. The Navy and Air Force spouses have them too. And yes, I joined the Marine club, not Navy, because it's much bigger and thus has a lot more activities and potential for making friends. And yes, I paid a $25 membership fee in an attempt to make friends. Among the activities listed: book club, gourmet cooking, and wine tasting. Enough said.

I had checked that I'd be interested in volunteering in the gift shop. (Another weird thing: they advertise that a benefit of joining is the opportunity to volunteer there. Which sounds strange until you know that if you volunteer, you get a discount. There's the real benefit.) So the woman I'd given my application to went and got the volunteer coordinator, who started chatting with me. One of the first questions, as always, was whether we have kids.

Me: No.

Volunteer Woman: I don't have kids either!

Volunteer Coordinator: Our stockroom girl doesn't have kids either!

Me: Oh, wow!

Those exlamation points are not ironic. This is what being a childless military spouse on Okinawa does to a person. It's that rare to meet another one of us. The discount and first crack at new merchandise were going to be nice benefits to volunteering, but you're telling me I can meet not one, but TWO women who don't have kids? Hot damn, sign me up!

It's not just me. That woman was looking at me like I imagine a panda does upon spotting another panda in the wild. Who knows if we'd have anything in common out in the real world, but who cares? On Okinawa, this one thing is pretty much enough to make you want to say, "Well hello, new BFF!"

Weird.

How to Make Your Husband's Deployment Fly By

Because clearly I am an expert on being a deployed servicemember's spouse after three whole weeks.

STEP 1: Set a super-unrealistic goal for yourself.

For example, by the time my husband gets home, I will look like this:

STEP 2: Spend the first three weeks he's gone making absolutely no progress whatsoever toward your goal. In fact, try to get yourself a little bit further from accomplishing it, if you can.

For example, run a total of six miles in three weeks and eat a lot of queso. On tortillas made with lard. Wash it down with margaritas. Repeat.

RESULTS: Intead of thinking "I still have # weeks until he gets home. Woe. Misery. Despair." you will find yourself thinking "I only have # of weeks until he gets home! TIME IS RUNNING OUT!"

Heading back to Okinawa today, where a lengthy Deployment To Do List awaits. And not so terribly much time to get it all done. Perspective! It's what's for dinner. Along with vegetables and sensible portions of lean protein.

So kiss me and smile for me

I'm writing this ahead of time to post of the day I leave Okinawa for a visit back to Texas. I'll travel for about 21 hours, Okinawa to Tokyo, Tokyo to Chicago, Chicago to San Antonio, plus layovers between. I will likely not sleep at all, as I've been completely unable to cultivate the ability to sleep on planes, even with the help of Ambien. Fortunately, it'll be night time when I arrive, so I'll be able to help my body adjust by going to sleep immediately upon arriving at my parents' house.

As much as the journey doesn't sound like a great time, I'm so looking forward to getting to Texas. I'll get to see my family and friends and finally be useful in helping my dad recover from his surgery. I'll be able to eat Tex-Mex and Chipotle, shop at Target, and drive 70mph on the right side of the road while having multiple options for radio stations.

As much as the return trip also doesn't excite me (through DFW instead of O'Hare that way), I'm sure that after three weeks, I'll be ready for some alone time and to be back in my own home. Except that my home will be empty and I'll have more alone time than even I can use. Shortly after I leave for Texas, Raj leaves on deployment for three or four months. Which isn't so long in the deployment world and not even as long as we'd thought it would be when we first got here. And we're pretty used to being apart.

Except. There will be no phone calls, Skype, or email. Even when we've been apart, we've been able to talk via phone or Skype at least every two or three days, ever since a month or two after we met. (It was mostly texts at first and took us a few weeks to get into a daily phone call habit.) Even when we've been in different countries. So this will be the first time in nearly four years that we'll be so wholly without one another. We can write letters, which I suppose is romantic and connects us with so many separated military couples before us, my parents included.

It'll be good for me to be so busy for the first few weeks. And when I get back, hopefully there will be job interviews for potential teaching positions and there will definitely be starting grad school a month later. My friend Michelle and I have decided we'll run an evening half-marathon on an island off our coast in late October, which means we start training in early August. And there is, as ever, exploring to be done here on Okinawa, volunteer opportunities, books to read, and HGTV.

And Raj will be doing his job. He's not a doctor in the military because he wanted his med school paid for and to receive a salary during it, though those were certainly nice perks. He's a military doctor because that's the job he wanted. As long as I've known him, I've known that he wanted to deploy. He wants to be where he's needed, supporting troops, out in what his med school classmates called "the real miltary". I'll never like that he wants to deploy, particularly when it puts him in harm's way, but I do respect it. His desire to serve is a big part of who he is and it's something I love about him. He sacrifices a generous second income by supporting me in doing what I love, though it will never pay well. I sacrifice having him around all of the time by supporting him in doing what he loves, though it takes him away from me. Those are the choices we made.

It's more than worth it to me. Because I have a man who is well worth missing.

Some things about living on base

Before I met Raj, I'd never been on a military base. Starting with Lackland, where he was staying in San Antonio, I visited him or went with him onto at least ten in the US that I can think of since then. In Pensacola, I'd go to the base somewhat regularly to use the gym or run on the track. None of which really prepared me to not only live on base, but to live a life centered around multiple bases.

A few days after we arrived, Raj and I were walking back to our temporary housing after seeing a movie. He asked me whether I felt like I was in Asia. "No," I said, "it feels like being in America, except..."

"America of the 1950s."

Pretty much. It was getting dark out, but there were still plenty of kids out riding bikes and skateboarding. Prior to the movie, we all stood for the playing of the national anthem. I was getting ma'am-ed all over the place. It did, in fact, feel like a simpler time or at least a very small town. And that was on the big base. Where we live is even tinier, with even more unsupervised kids running around, because why not? I'm going to run over a kid in the road? The speed limit is 25. That's in kilometers. In case your kilometers to miles conversion skills are rustier than mine, that comes to just over 15mph. (I'd like to thank whichever poor teacher had to leg-wrestle me into learning proportions and whoever decided that races in the US should be in kilometers for my ability to divide by 5 and multiply times 3 so I have any idea of speed and distance here.)

Anyway, I thought I'd tell you some things I've discovered about living on base, in case anybody is curious.

First, there is something called Colors. I discovered Colors while still in Pensacola and rushing into the gym at 8am for the 8am yoga class. There was a bugle call played over the loudspeaker and suddenly, everyone stopped where they were. Fortunately, I noticed this and did the same. They then played the national anthem and everyone continued standing still (those in uniform saluting) until it was over, when everyone went back about their business. I was even later to yoga than I would have been. I've since learned that this occurs at 8am and sunset (with a 5 minute warning before sunset) and is intended to show respect for fallen servicemembers. So if you need to be anywhere on a military base at 8, make sure you're early. And if you see everyone stop and all of the cars pull over, follow suit. You often can't see a flag from wherever you're standing, so I asked Raj how everyone knows which way to face. Toward the music, he said. Now you know.

Second, we have shopping at the commissary. In many ways, this is like any other grocery store. Except you have to show your military ID when you go in. I can also never be quite sure what they may or may not have, especially when it comes to produce, meat, and dairy products. The first time I saw plain Greek yogurt, I bought four packs, two of which are still in my freezer. When we decided we'd like to try out almond milk, we waited a month for them to get any in stock. Today, there was no spinach and only bright green bananas, but there were blueberries and cilantro. And I stopped myself from buying ground turkey I didn't need only because I'd never seen it there before and might want it at some future time. I probably would have gone ahead and gotten it if I weren't already so far over the 15 item limit for self-checkout. A thing about commissaries is that they employ baggers who work only for tips. You don't have to tip them, but I'd feel like a real jerk if I didn't. Except today, I had zero American dollars and the equivalent of a hundred dollar bill or sixty cents in yen. So I took my far too many items through the self-checkout. If it helps, I felt pretty bad about it. Also, some of the good parking spaces are designated for people of certain ranks. Raj accidentally parked in a flag officer spot and was called on it by a guy who said he knows most of the flag officers on the island and Raj didn't look like one. Which would have been a fun opportunity to play the Oh, because I'm brown I don't look like a flag officer? card to make the guy really uncomfortable, but probably it's for the best that he didn't.

For non-grocery needs, we have the Exchange, which I have recently learned is referred to as the BX (for base exchange) on Army and Air Force bases and PX (for post exchange) on Naval bases. (I also recently learned that while Navy=Navy, Naval=Navy and Marines. For instance, the Naval Academy, which produces both Navy and Marine officers. They're sister services. Which is why Raj is in a Marine squadron. The Marines have no doctors, instead using Navy docs. Also, you are welcomed aboard Naval bases and instead of "floors" they refer to "decks". But I digress.) The Exchange is a strange mix of Walmart and Macy's. Paper plates and Coach bags! And cute sundresses you think will be $20 but turn out to be Michael Kors and cost $90, which is a real bummer. But tax free!

The next thing is the sort of Twilight Zone effect of going into your house, but not your house. Our neighbors' house is ours, but flipped. They brought their own couches, but do have the government dining set we have. She says our countertops are nicer (white formica: on the upside, you always know if they're dirty; on the downside, you always know if they're dirty) and they have tile in the kitchen instead of the wood laminate. I went into another house just like ours where they had painted the living room. It looked nice, but I'm not sure I'll get that ambitious and/or bored. You have to paint it back to cream before you move out and while they used to give out the regulation paint, sequestration has ended that particular gravy train. It's my understanding that they don't sell paint on base, so you have to take your chances with figuring out what's what in the Japanese hardware store.

Here's something you might not find surprising: Marines are crazy. I say that with all possible affection, Marines and former Marines. You are a hard-working and dedicated people. I want you on that wall. I need you on that wall. I just don't understand your desire to start things so early. For our newcomers' brief, we were picked up at temporary housing at 6:45am. Because the brief started at 7:15 and went until 2:00. Why couldn't it be 8:00 to 3:15? Because Marines are crazy. Or exceptionally early risers, at least. Raj tells me that when he goes to swim at 5am, the roads are already busy. I hope to never have occasion to see it for myself.

Something I was completely unaware of is Armed Forces Network. We have AFN for both TV and radio. While we get several cable channels, all of our network TV comes through AFN Prime, AFN Family, AFN Extra, AFN Sports, AFN News, and AFN Movies. Instead of commercials, we get educational spots about preventing grease fires and not publicizing information about deployments. Meaning that when I look to see what's playing at the movie theater, I often have no idea what these movies are. On AFN radio, we generally get the same seven or eight songs repeated a lot, interspersed with songs that make you go, "I haven't heard this in years." It's a strange assortment. And again, we get lots of educational material from AFN. The AM station is sometimes the same as FM, but sometimes has talk radio, with what can be whiplash inducing transitions between NPR and Rush Limbaugh, for instance. I can sometimes pick up a Japanese station, but these tend to feature lots of talking or terrible pop music.

The last thing I already covered a little bit, having to do with being so identified with our husbands' careers. I've been to two events for spouses of members of Raj's squadron. Both times, I've been introduced to the group and to individuals as "The New Doc's Wife". Which announced to everyone at the mixed meeting that I'm an officer's wife right off the bat. And even at the officers' wives group, came with the baggage of how The Old Doc's Wife never came to anything. I don't know if they attributed that to snobbishness on her part. I don't typically advertise being a doctor's wife or an officer's wife on my own because it can sound like bragging and what do I have to brag about? Raj did all the work. Not having set out to bag a doctor, I don't count having done so as an accomplishment. There was some grumbling among the officers' wives about the enlisted guys' wives not bringing food to the potlucks, as I assume there is talk about the officers' wives when we're not around. Though I'm told it's better than it used to be. Wives used to throw their husbands' rank around as if it were their own, demanding privileges and refusing to associate with underlings. When I asked one of the wives who is very involved with the Marine Officers Spouses Club about it, she said that yeah, women who were going to be bitches anyway are bitches about their husbands' rank, but most spouses aren't like that anymore.

So, there you have some things about living on base. Stay tuned for our next exciting installment: Some things about living in Japan. Spoiler: chopsticks!

All the women who independent

I recently followed a link to a military spouse's blog, the title of which I think is genius: They Call Me Dependent.

That's my classification here. On paperwork and sign-in logs, I check the Dependent box. It's a strange reality, particularly after having been so completely independent for so long. Aside from the official classification, I'm also financially dependent these days. I'm finding that it's very common for wives with professional careers to end up unemployed here. Add that to the many who choose not to work in order to be home with their kids and the real world go-to question of What do you do? becomes moot. So we ask each other what our husbands do, where they work, what unit or squadron they're in. And we ask about kids, whether, how many, ages. Then maybe we ask what did you do before this? What are you interested in? What do you like? But those tend to come after. A person could find herself lost. Dependent.

Of course, the irony is that a military wife can only be so dependent. For most of us, this life means being on our own a lot. You can't be overly dependent on a husband who's gone for six, nine, twelve months at a time. I feel like I come into this with a pretty significant advantage, having already been on my own for so long. I haven't formed the expectation that someone will always take care of the car or fix things or sleep next to me to make me feel safe. I don't love having to be the one to handle everything, but I know I'm capable of it because I always managed before. When I have to take out the trash, kill the bugs, open the jars (rubber gloves, gals), decide whether the car needs to be taken in, or, God forbid, iron something without his help, it's a bummer, but also makes me more grateful for everything he does while he's here.

Women arrive here though who are eighteen, nineteen, twenty. They are newly married and have never been away from home. Some already have babies. They too are generally fending for themselves before too long and it must be really tough for them. There is a lot of support here for spouses, but you have to be willing and able to seek it out.

Everyone gets through it, with varying levels of success. It seems that the ones who don't lose themselves in the process are the women who have answers to the real world go-to What do you do? question, even if they can't get work here. Jenn recently posted about how that question should be about so much more than a job and it was a good reminder to me. Dependent or Military Wife may be a role I have, but it's not what I do. I run. I write. I cook. I read. I volunteer. I bake. I explore. I meet people. I keep house. I do yoga. I grocery shop far more often than seems necessary for a household of two.

When Raj left shortly after we got here, it would have been easy to feel sorry for myself, without my husband in a country where I didn't know anyone. But it was also easy to remind myself that almost everything I've done in my life I've done without a husband. The vast majority without a boyfriend and a whole lot completely alone. So despite being pretty intimidated by finding my way around off base, I got in the car and drove myself to our nearest castle ruins, Nakagusuku, on a lovely weekday afternoon. I even packed myself a picnic lunch.

The view from my picnic spot.

Looking pretty good for a 600 year-old.

I followed that path along the side down into the woods. Without my designated snake spotter, I made sure to be hypervigilant for habu snakes, but the path was pleasantly free of them. On the way back, however, I heard a humming noise and saw what appeared to be a wasp nest. I'd read a terrifying poster on base about the natural hazards of Okinawa which told me that wasps here have been known to swarm. I began to have visions of some poor Japanese family finding my sting-ridden misshapen corpse days later since there was no one around. (In reality, while no one was in sight, people were certainly within screaming distance and there would definitely have been screaming.) Poor Raj getting a call to notify him of my untimely and horrific demise. Despite these very real (ahem) dangers, I manageed to escape unstung and make it to the concession booth for some mango ice cream to steady my nerves.

I think we can all agree that the potential for swarming wasps is a much more legitimate reason to never leave the house than not havng a husband around.

Still, I bravely leave my home pretty much every day, whether Raj is on the island or not. I feel pretty comfortable driving on the left now and have managed to find several places up to an hour's drive from our house all on my own. I want to make sure I take advantage of the opportunties we have here. Sure, I prefer if Raj can come with me, mostly because he's my favorite, but I also can't confine myself to the base during his work hours or the entire months he'll be gone. I'm still working out what life here looks like for me and there are some pretty big adjustments, personally and professionally. Yes, they call me dependent. But I'm still me, navigation-impaired, stinging bug-phobic, adventure craving, stubbornly independent and trusting that it'll all shake out somehow if I just keep on going.

Now throw your hands up at me.

A Very Fine House (for the most part)

It may not surprise you to learn that I watch a lot of House Hunters. A LOT. Raj has been exposed to far more of it than he'd like, though he doesn't mind House Hunters International. So we tried to make picking our housing feel like an episode. We didn't have a real estate agent though and only had two places to pick from. So our process was a lot less "I really want an updated kitchen with granite and stainless steel plus a big yard and a huge master bath with a double vanity" and a lot more "let's hope one of these two is decently nice."

Here's something you won't see on House Hunters - a live cockroach in a closet. And the couple chooses that house! And they really like it! The house, not the cockroach. Obviously we're not fans of roaches, though one of us has much stronger feelings on the topic than the other. But we both recognize that we've chosen to live in a tropical climate. Bugs happen. (Though I've recently learned that huge centipedes happen on this island and if that comes in this house, I will LOSE MY SHIT. That's a promise.)

Anyhoo. You know how you never hear about large-scale death and destruction from typhoons hitting Okinawa? Is it because they don't hit Okinawa? Oh no. They do. (Click here for bleeped version of video taken on Camp Hansen last year of a car flipping in a parking lot.) The thing is, they build everything in concrete here, so the buildings stay up.

This multiplex may say "60s style government housing" to you, but it also says, "huff and puff all you want, typhoon". That's the style of housing we're in. We have a middle unit, which works out since you don't get extra windows on the outsides anyway, but you do have to pay the kid extra to mow your side yard. We have a little patio in back and the border between our yard and the neighbors is a banana tree and a hibiscus bush. (Currently: one flower, no bananas.) I'm going tomorrow to look at some used patio furniture, one key criterion being whether I can move it myself. Not only for getting it home tomorrow, but in case of typhoons while Raj is gone. A grill he can choose for himself when he gets back.

On House Hunters International, a lot of people are looking to get a furnished place. Some of them have a lot of opinions regarding the furniture, some are just happy if there is some. We were somewhere in between. Not that it really mattered, since we didn't have any choice about it anyway.

Except for the flat screen TV, it's pretty much 1988 in our living room. Blue upholstery with little embroidered red and tan...things...all over it. Medium colored oak as far as the eye can see. The good/sad news is that the upholstered pieces appear to be brand new, based on the way that you still sit on top of the cushions, rather than sinking into them at all. So yay! Clean! But oh, federal government. Really? Currently the entire contents of our china cabinet is two laquerware serving pieces we bought in Burma.

You know what we could have used more than a china cabinet? A bed large enough for the both of us. Apparently, queen size beds are only for officers more senior than Raj. You guys, Raj takes up a double bed by himself. With his feet hanging off. So we bought a queen size bed. But where would we put the one they gave us? Well, in one of our two empty bedrooms, of course! See, because while we qualified for a three bedroom house based on Raj's rank, we only qualified for one bed based on number of residents. One room is now our guestroom. The other will be our office/another guestroom, but currently is serving as my workout room/yoga studio/torture chamber.

Do you see the size of those closets? One in each guest room, one in the upstairs hallway, one downstairs. Plus his and hers closets in the master bedroom. And the kitchen? No granite, no stainless, no island, and not open concept. But look at all of that storage!

We still don't have a lot more food, but the oil/vinegar/Asian sauce collection has roughly doubled. I have a whole shelf for baking stuff, unlike in the last house, where everything was up where I had to stand on a chair to get it down. I told Raj that the top shelf here is for things that only he needs to reach, so if you look closely, you'll see the two chocolate bars I got him as his stand in birthday present (the real one is with the rest of our stuff...somewhere). They are orange and chili flavored, meaning they're safe from me.

Across from the stove is a built in desk, more cabinets, and my favorite feature:

Aww, yeah. My least favorite feature?

Metal stair treads. Who thought that was a good idea? I mean, I guess it does keep the kids from doing all that dangerous running down the stairs that kids are always doing. Not in this house, assuming they want to keep the soles of their feet intact.

We did get lucky on the bathrooms in that (there are 2.5 and) the floor to ceiling tile is a color that works well with my old Target shower curtain and new wedding registry towels.

It's been fun to get to start using a few of our wedding gifts that were in our express shipment. I mean, sure, it was good that I waited to get married until I knew what I wanted in a man, but also important that I had solid ideas regarding linens. Hello, high thread count sheets. I knew I loved you before I met you.

Potential houseguests: if you come stay with us, your bathroom will feature this very mod sink:

The medicine cabinet has a built-in toothbrush holder inside. Just FYI.

Sure, it's a little bit ironic that we have ridiculous amounts of storage in a house to which we're only allowed to bring 25% of our stuff (by weight, that is). And I am getting a wee bit impatient for the arrival of our household goods shipment. But we have a view of the ferris wheel from our bedroom window and are set up for a pretty good game of hide and seek, closet-wise.

One day, we'll have stuff. We'll put it away and hang things up and then I'll show you updated pictures. Won't that be exciting?

My Steady Boy Said Ships Ahoy

Well, ok, actually he took a plane. The point is that Raj left this morning for three weeks. In his luggage:

What, you don't travel with 500 condoms?

He SAYS they're for the Marines under his flight surgeon care. Hopefully, lugging all of those condoms along will save him some work in STD treatment when they get back. And save you, the taxpayers, money on antibiotics.

(Related: one of the corpsmen at Raj's clinic put out condoms in bowls labeled Small and Large. As I'm sure you assumed, the Large bowl was quickly emptied while the Small bowl remained untouched. They were all the very same condoms.)

My immediate plans include a bath, dinner of wine and brownies, a new episode of What Not to Wear, and taking up as much of the bed as is five foot six inch humanly possible.

No, I am not crazy enough to make brownies when I know I'll be home alone with them. My next door neighbor brought them over earlier. I met her yesterday when she was setting out on a walk with her husband and baby. I was coming in from the grocery store and spent the entirety of our conversation clutching a huge pack of toilet paper. Naturally. I finally learned enough from previous experience to ask at the end of our conversation what her name was again, then silently chanted her and her husband's names until I got inside and could text them to Raj. We have a collective inability to remember names of people, even after having met and talked to them multiple times. We're working on it.

I did buy the wine myself, making sure it had a cap, not cork. We still haven't gotten our stuff and in a display of poor self-awareness, didn't put a corkscrew in our express shipment. We did put in my new Kitchen Aid coffeemaker though! And the commissaries here sell Kona coffee. Hot damn. Except when I pushed the button this morning, nothing happened. No coffee! And in my Left Alone in a Foreign Country hour of need! Outrageous. At least I know that Kitchen Aid will send me a new one. And it's good motivation to go run first thing in the morning since there's a Starbucks on the way home. This morning it was pouring rain though, so I made do with tea. It was...you know...not coffee.

On a happier note, our lawncare needs are solved. We are uninterested in buying a lawn mower and trimmer for our little bitty yard. My search for a lawn service turned up a 14 year-old boy who lives in our neighborhood and works on the cheap. Done. He even offered to start tonight, but my total cash on hand is one dollar. He doesn't work quite that cheap. I didn't ask whether he accepts yen.

I'm hoping to soon be very busy with unpacking, should our stuff arrive at some point. In the meantime, there's writing, running, and exploring to do. This is one of those times when it's going to work out really well for our marriage that I genuinely do enjoy being alone. I'll miss Raj of course, but three weeks isn't really all that long for us. (Wait until June when it'll be more like five months. That will be a real bummer.) This could even end up being good motivation for me to try to make some friends here.

Don't worry about me, Internet. I've got chocolate and HGTV. Zero condoms. All set.

We're really leaving for Japan! Almost definitely!

We have plane tickets to Japan! Sort of!

Come on, Lori, either you have tickets or you don't. Which is it?

Ok, we don't have tickets. But we do have reservations. They just haven't been funded yet, so they aren't ticketed, so we can't change the government-funded tickets to Okinawa to take us to Korea instead so we can begin our leave en route, aka vacation in which the government has paid for the big part of the plane ticket and we may as well pay to change it to go somewhere cool since we're already in Asia and Raj has time off.

We did have reservations once before, yes. They were for this morning. But the letter that officially declared me cleared to come to Okinawa couldn't be sent here through some military message system because it was broken. So despite all parties knowing that I was cleared, no letter transmitted through the proper channel meant no flying to Japan. So the tickets for today were canceled. And we waited some more. Three nights in a row, they told Raj that the letter would be released "today, tomorrow at the latest". Last night, I knew they'd said it again when I heard Raj say, "Ok, but you told me that two days ago and I was supposed to fly out seven hours from now."

The letter finally came through around midnight. The guy in Raj's command emailed the transportation person about reserving us some flights. Fortunately, we happened to be in the transportation building this afternoon and stopped by to ask about it. Oh, that lady wasn't in. We could check tomorrow. Which was just about to drive me over the edge because in this process, TOMORROW NEVER COMES.

Or we could talk to her supervisor. Well, that wonderful man went ahead and made us real, actual reservations on the spot that we really ought to be able to use since I'm cleared and everything.

Assuming that somebody tickets our tickets. And then we can A) change those tickets to go to Korea, B) alert the friends in Korea that we really actually are coming to visit them, C) plan the trip to Burma that occurs mid-Korea visit, and D) buy snacks for the plane. Because seriously, we are flying from Washington Dulles straight to Tokyo and are being served lunch. That's all. I don't know about you, but over a period of 13 hours, I usually like to eat more than a light lunch. While we both intend to take an Ambien and sleep through as much of the flight as possible, we also both want me to not spend the awake portion of the flight being hangry.

Of course, I'll believe we're really leaving once we have actual tickets. Tomorrow at the latest.