He Cheated. I found out. That's about it.

Had some people wonder what happened to the blog.  Well, I'm not an army girlfriend anymore so it seems pretty silly to write about it.

I've been trying for a few weeks now to write something that could do justice to the complicated nature of the end of our relationship.  I might still but I right now it feels quite painful so I'll just give you the bare bones of it.

Between his mother's death and leaving for Afghanistan Craig began a sexual relationship with another woman named Diana, behind my back.  Looking back I could tell that something was wrong but at the time I thought the change in him was only due to the loss of his mom.  The relationship with Diana ended but Craig kept it a secret.  I found out after he'd come here for his mid-tour leave.  I came across some evidence, I confronted him, he denied it, I told him that I knew he was lying and he admitted that he had cheated.  He offered no explanation for what happened, he just left.  Those are the facts.

The most painful part right now is that I don't know if anything in our relationship was real.  It's as if all the good feelings I had about it were based on lies.  When someone lies to you so easily and so often it makes you question everything they've ever said.  

Without Warning

Craig and Julie out on the town.

A week ago I was trying to figure out what still needed to be done.  I got home and put on my PJ's.   My laundry wasn't done, there were dishes in the sink, things were pretty untidy and I was just too tired to do anything about any of it.  I decided to get a good night's sleep and finish cleaning in the morning.  Sitting in bed watching Doctor Who and making a mental list of all the thing I was going to do in the morning I heard my door bell ring.  Nobody rings my doorbell except the sister missionaries and they aren't out at 11:30pm.

Wait.  Let's back-track a bit.  As of the last post I left, Craig was meant to be on his way from KAF (Kandahar Air Field) to Germany or Italy or some other place in Europe.  I was all in a dither and going a bit wiggy.  A day passed without word but I wasn't letting it worry me.  I kept cleaning and running and pushing past my own procrastination.  Then another day passed without word and it was starting to get to me.  Then another and that was when bad thoughts started to have traffic accidents in my head.  (This usually happens when I haven't heard from him in a week.)  What if he's been hurt?  What if he doesn't want to see me?  What if he's lost or stranded and can't call?  What if he's fallen down a ravine or chasm and a boulder or other large object has fallen on his arm and he can't get to his cell phone and he has to slowly cut off his own arm?  As you can see the longer I go without contact the crazier and less likely the scenarios become.  By Wednesday night I'd been eight days since last I'd heard from him and the boulder scene was where my brain had traveled.    

So, there I was, enjoying an very good episode of Doctor Who and trying not to beat myself up after my comedy hosting gig at Muse Cafe when the doorbell rang it's weak little ding dong and my heart skipped a beat.  Late night visitors aren't a good thing but my heart kinda knew that this was no ordinary visitor.  I walked to the door and there he was.  Standing on my porch.  In my city.  Right in front of my eyes.  I imagined seeing him over and over again in my head and still I was shocked.  

Standing there, front door open I turned and darted back into my apartment.  

"You're here.  You're really here."  I repeated over and over again.

"Yup."  Was his answer.

I had left the screen door shut and locked and left him standing on my porch while I absent-mindedly moved things pointlessly around my apartment.  All the while repeating the mantra; 

"You're here.  You're here."  

He replied; "Yes.  I'm here.  Can I come in?"  

I quickly turned, unlocked the door and put my arms around his neck.  He lifted me up and held me there.  Squeezing me until he decided he needed to put me down and kiss me.  He put me down on the step by my door so that we were eye-level with one another.  He put his hands on either side of my face, looked at me like he hadn't seen me in 6 months (and he hadn't) and just layed one on me.   One of those long, slow kisses that just doesn't want to ended.  It did end and the spell was broken.  That's when my neuroses kicked in the door to my brain and I again started pacing around my apartment picking things up and putting them away babbling;

"I'm not ready.  Things were going to be ready.  You're early."  

I couldn't look at him.  It all felt like a dream and if I looked at things too much or payed too close attention to the details I would wake up and it would all disappear.  He finally grabbed my hands and took the clothes out of them.  

"It's such a mess."  I said.  

"You think I really noticed?  All I can see is you.  Sit down."  

I sat and let his deep baritone glide down my insides like the pepto-bismol in commercials from my childhood.  I sat there for a while breathing him, trying not to move or disturb this perfect moment and when it was just right he moved and took off his shoes and we lay down together.  

We stayed up all night talking and well..Not talking as well.  It was a perfect moment in time that even the oppressive sun in all it's smug glory couldn't break it.  We got out of bed and had breakfast and planned what we wanted next.  And we began again, afraid to admit that we couldn't pick up where we had left off but also thankful that wherever we were, it was still wonderful.

Mitch & Micky - A Kiss At The End of The Rainbow

I've gotten a bit of crap for liking this song but it just makes me cry, especially the girl's verse.  Enjoy

His journey begins today!!!!

Oh Ma'Gwad Oh Ma'Gwad Oh Ma'Gwad Oh Ma'Gwad Oh Ma'Gwad Oh Ma'Gwad Oh Ma'Gwad Oh Ma'Gwad Oh Ma'Gwad Oh Ma'Gwad Oh Ma'Gwad Oh Ma'Gwad.

It's 3 days until he gets here and I am so so so sooooooooo excited.  It's an intense gitty feeling like before the first day of school.  Maybe not everyone thinks this way, but I did.  I remember having all my new school clothes and supplies all layed out in my room.  Deciding which outfit to wear and what order the folders were to go in my off-brand Trapper-style Keeper.  Just like now, I had all these plans and ideas of how things were going to go.  Visions of how I wanted things to happen.  At least with age I'm able to accept that my dream scenario and what will actually happen aren't necessarily going to meet.

Time is moving sooo sssllloowwwlllyy.  I woke-up this morning and I could swear it was Wednesday at least.  But alas, it is not and will not be, for a whole 'nother day.  It's good.  Things aren't quite ready for him to be here.  I want everything to be perfect.  I've been nesting like crazy in my apartment.  Scrubbing and rescrubbing every little thing, I bought a new vacuum cleaner and have been vacuuming the 50 sq ft of visible carpet in my apartment everyday, making lists of things that still need to be done and things that he might need.  You'd think the pope was coming to stay with me.

The new vacuum cleaner.

On top of that there's all the stuff I'm doing to myself.  Mani-pedi of course.  Because the first thing that a man coming from a war zone will notice is weather or not my nails are painted.  Waxings of various kinds, facials, lotions, exfoliations, etc etc etc.  There's the dieting--by dieting I really mean the attempt to avoid food all together (Mind you, I'm totally eating.  I just avoid it when I can.)  Half to try to look dehydrated and gaunt (men dig that right?) and half because I'm just too nervous to eat and the closer he gets the more nervous I get.  I'm also kicking it up in the working out department.  In general, I'm a work out 4 days a week kind of gal but lately it's been ratcheted-up.  I just want to be able to keep up with him.  He's had six months of nothing but working, reading, movies, and working out.  He's gotten himself ripped where as before he was quilted, like me.  On top of all the prep there is the general wigging out that I've been doing.  Which I think is okay.  I was having drinks with some friends last night and one said that if I wasn't freaking out she'd think something was really wrong with me.

Still don't know exactly when he'll be here but I will know soon.

Tooele Transcript Bulletin - Tooele loses first soldier in war

Tooele Transcript Bulletin - Tooele loses first soldier in war

I didn't know this guy but he's from back home.  A year ago I might have read this and thought; "Sad." and moved on.  I still will move on but now he seems real.  His death sticks to me.  Funny the change a little perspective will give you. I think about death a bit but this is the first guy from back home to die in the war.  Somehow that surprises me and gives me comfort.  So many go, but so many more come back.

My thoughts tonight are with his wife.

They also serve who only stand and wait.

Had an interesting discussion with one of my regular guests at work.  It was all about the military and deployment so I thought I would share it with all of you.  

First a little background.  Mr. D (I'm going to call him that because there's no reason to use his real name) is a middle-aged man with whom I have many good conversations.  He works upstairs from the restaurant and comes down for drinks several times a week.  When he was a young man he was set to be drafted into the Vietnam war but as luck would bless him, his number never came up.  

As most of my regular customers know Craig will be here very soon.  I pretty much tell everyone everyday, how many days are left until I'll see him.  Eight, by the way.  I was talking to him and another man and Mr D said something that seemed to stick to me.  He said that he thought the mid-tour leave seemed like torture.  He thought that it must be traumatic for these men/women to come home and get a taste of normal only to be sent back.  I quickly disagreed with him.  I said that the real torture is the thought that the end would be so far into the horizon.  At least, with it broken up like this, it feels more manageable.  Especially for those that have done this multiple times.  He told me that in Vietnam the men would be sent for the whole year.  He thought that that was more humane.  He said that if it were him he'd rather it that way.  But the men in Vietnam weren't volunteers and when they were done with there tour they were done, period.  And they didn't have men on their third, fourth, fifth tours.  There is just a huge difference between then and now.  

I guess I just see it too much from my perspective.  And that makes me think that maybe the mid-tour leave isn't for them.  Maybe it's really for us.  The wives and girlfriends and mothers and dads and everyone else that isn't made for all of this.  Craig is strong.  Stronger than I even understand.  I'm sure that if the army told him that he would be gone for a year without leave he could do it without thinking twice.  But I don't think that I could.  I don't think I could make it until next March if I didn't know he'd be here in eight days.  Because it's not just the separation, it's all the ideas that are the only thing you have to hold on to.  Aside from the separation there is SO MUCH FEAR.  Sometimes it feels like being told that some I love has a deadly disease.  There's nothing I can do but hope and support and try to find the silver lining.  But I know that no matter how much I hope there is always the chance that I'll get a call one day telling me that it's all over.  That he didn't make it.  It makes me feel so completely powerless.  I know that no matter how bad it is for me he's the one that's in danger and I am safe at home writing about it.  But I still envy his ability to take action and steer his fate.  If he didn't come back I would be crushed.  My life would be changed and there is NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT IT. 

There I go thinking too much again.  Eight days.  It's so close.  I really am happy and excited.

"Approximately", that's army for; "whenever".

Something I didn't know and still don't understand about the army is how they handle travel arrangements.  At least for the one guy I know.  While Craig was in the states travel was mildly straight forward.  I remember he had to fly to Denver for some Run-fastest/stand-straightest solider contest.  As I recall, all that needed to be done was to book a flight.  There was a certain amount of red tape but nothing like the adventure he's had getting to and now coming back from Afghanistan.  I understand that Denver and Afghanistan are a few miles away from one another but somehow I can't wrap my head around the fact that an organization that prides itself on organization and discipline can so often be wishy-washy and haphazard.

When I say approximately 10 days I mean just that.  I don't know when he's actually arriving.  Nor does he.  Nor will he.  For hours or even days into his trip he will not know when he might reach his final destination.  He calls it; "Hitchhiking on Uncle Sam's dime."  I call it crazy with a backwards K. (Sadly I lack the compy to actually spell it that way).  So he leaves on the 19th and could arrive home anytime between then and the 24th.  It was the same getting there for him.  On the first leg of his trip they told him to hang out in an air force hanger.  Literally, hang out.  They had no idea when a flight might be going and he needed to be ready at a moments notice.  Then the army shuffled him from place to place, finally leaving him stranded in Kuwait.  I called it Kuwait-ing (as opposed to what he does now which is Afghanistan-ding around).  In the end he, quite literally, had to hitchhike to Afghanistan.  Thumbing rides from one place to the next on military transport making his way slowly to his base.  I wonder what they did during past wars, shuffle man after man on a train and hope they get to the right place?  Military precision is a joke.  I don't know, maybe I shouldn't speak in generalities.  I know very little beyond my own experience on this subject.  But I digress.  I'm so happy and excited that a few days plus or minus mean very little.  I have so many things planned, dear reader.  I will write about all of them.  But for now that is all.  I will probably write again before he arrives.  Hopefully with more news.  

IT!!!!

We have reached the half-way point in our little journey of deployment.  Actually more than half but I've been procrastinating writing this.  It's two weeks until Craig is home for mid-tour leave and I've become fixated one thing.  I feel like I'm being starved in a dungeon and my jailer reminds me that in two weeks I'm going to have a turkey dinner.  I'm going to wreck that turkey dinner.  Ian McEwan described it wonderfully in the book I just finished "Saturday";

"...thier movements are quick and greedy, urgent rather than joyous - it is as if they've returned from exile, emerged from a hard prison cell to gorge at a feast.  Their appetites are noisy, their manners are rough.  They can't quite trust their luck, they want all they can get in a short time.  They also know that at the end, after they've reclaimed each other, is the promise of oblivion."

Have you guessed what this blog post is about?

If you haven't guessed, be warned, this one is about sex.  Nothing graphic, this isn't a porn blog.  But if you're yucked out by the idea of me having a sex-life, I'm talking to you Mom, you might want to sit this one out.

I miss sex.  This should not come as a news-flash to anyone.  If the person you love is on the other side of the planet one thing that you'll notice, even if you notice nothing else, is the loss of physical companionship.  As it gets closer and closer to him being hear, little by little I'm able to allow myself to think about it.  I think if I thought about it as much as I wanted to I would have driven myself to total insanity apx 4 months ago.  Don't get me wrong.  I've gone long periods of time with out it, don't ask how long.  I just feel like this is more painful.  Having someone you love that loves you and not being able to share that can be torture.  I want to make one thing clear.  I'm not talking about intercourse.  Well, I am, but not exclusively.  I said I missed sex to one of my female friends and the response I got  was; "You should get a Vibrator." (when I said it to two male friends, one gay, one straight I got respectively; "Then have sex." and "Well I can help you out."  The latter comes from the hetero.  He was joking and yet, still creepy.)  None of these suggestions are useful for the following reasons.  First, I'm an adult woman, I already own a vibrator.  And, if for some reason I didn't, upon learning that my lover would be 7,500 miles away for a year it would have been one of my first purchases.  Second, I'm relatively cute and been known to be charming.  So, if I were so inclined, I could bone any night of the week.  That's not what I miss and not what I mean.

When I say sex I don't mean just the act.  I mean the whole thing.  The way he looks at me when we're sitting next to each other.  I can see out of my peripheral vision him looking at my neck.  Him holding my hand in a movie theater and putting it in his lap.  Not vulgar, just comfortably intimate.  That look he gives me when he wants to go home.  The "Let's blow this pop-stand" look.  The routine of getting ready for bed.  The total lack of self-consciousness.  The pretense at going to sleep before he rolls over to snuggle and smell my hair beginning an almost effortless, lazy, affectionate seduction.  Or, if the mood strikes, we jump urgently toward it.  The knowing that we are both free to give and take as we like.  To be selfish or generous and know that it can switch without discussion.  Embracing awkward moments that don't quite work and melting into ones that do.  Knowing I can go right to sleep after if I want to or that we could stay up all night just to do it all over again in the morning.  I miss knowing someone like that.  I miss him.  I miss his energy, his spirit, his breath, his warmth.

Gwad, I do sound antsy.  The frustration is driving me banana-pancakes.  I miss him--I guess this is just another part of that.  Thanks for listening.

This Week in Emailing (10/03/10-10/09/10)

I know it's a bit premature but this goes along with the birthday post and I thought it was pretty great!


"now on to more important things...i TOLD YOU they would make fun of me cuz of that sweater... i was dubbed 'the gay racecar driver'.  i still like the way it smells. and it is well done. just not my style...especially in a war zone. doesnt make me love it any less though. thanx again for the best bday present ive gotten in quite a few years."

This email is funny to me because it makes him sound 11 years old.  It also doesn't help that he still doesn't capitalize anything.  When we talked on the phone he mentioned shaving his head but didn't say anything about his pinkies being blown off so I'm going to assume that the shift key is broken on his computer and using caps-lock is too difficult.

PS What his unit doesn't know is that he is a gay race-car driver.
PPS  I think we've hit upon his new nickname.

Happy Birthday Craigory!!!

What day is today?  It's the Sgt's birthday.  What a day for a birthday.  Let's all have some cake.

Good news all around.  Woke-up this morning to a phone call from the great man himself.  Almost no one calls me in the morning and I didn't recognize the number so I didn't answer it.  He left a message and called again.  I looked at the number and thought; "If they're calling twice it could be important."  When I answered the phone I didn't recognize his voice.  In my defense I hadn't heard his rumbling growl in two and half months.  Here is a transcript of that first exchange as best as I can remember it.  Keep in mind that I was just waking up.

Me: Hello?
Craig: Hey.
Me: Hi? (still trying to figure out who it is.)
Craig: What time is it there?  Shouldn't you be up by now?
Me: (sudden realization) Oh my God!  Hey, baby!!

For the first few minutes I let him do all of the talking.  I have to admit, I was a bit gitty listening to him. The last time we spoke was the weekend of my brother's wedding at the end of July.  It's a funny thing.  I feel like I hear from him pretty often but under any other circumstances not hearing someone's voice for two months would be considered ridiculous.  I guess everything is relative.  One thing I noticed was the conversation got a bit choppy.  We email quite a bit (at his FOB there's no IM or Skype because they take up too much band-width and slow the internet down too much) and I think our brains are used to that sort of communication.  It's weird to have questions answered right after they're asked.  It made me nervous.  Plus, I think I've forgotten how to read his inflection.  He's in such a different place right now.  He sounds angry and tried and in real-life that would be a cause for concern but in his "other" life I think that's probably just normal.

"Angry" is the new "Normal"

We talked about his leave coming up and what he wants to do with his time.  We talked about how we're both excited and nervous.  He told me he looks different now.  I realized I haven't seen a picture of him in six months.  He shaved his head, is apparently ripped (all they do is work and workout) and he has no idea if he's lost weight or gained it.  He says that he drinks so much water right now that he has no idea what will happen when he's state-side and doesn't need to.  It's gonna be a wild ride seeing how this leave goes. 

On a happy note.  Let's have a big hip-hip for the US postal service.  I was so nervous it wouldn't get there but his birthday package arrived right on time.  He liked all the things I got for him.  He was nervous that I got him DVDs that he already owned but I won the day on that score.  Not only did he not have them, they are perfect for him.  Hooray for me!!!  He didn't, however, like the sweat shirt that I made for him.  It was actually a sweat shirt he gave to me before he left.  I sewed some cool stripes across the front.  I thought that I improved it but I guess it's not quite his style (plus civvies are not strictly allowed).  Oh well, not everyone can be as rad as me.

Here is Craig's birthday package.  I think the sweat shirt looks awesome.

We talked for about an hour before he had to get off the phone.  There's always a line of guys waiting.  I always feel a vague depression when we get off the phone.  I never know when I'm going to hear from him again and that leaves me pretty sad sometimes.  It's always a double-edged sword.

Well that was Craig's birthday.  See you next time.

It's OCTOBER!!!!!

I'm just so excited!!!  Craig is going to be here in 20 days and I'm totally crazy about it.

The closer it gets to him being here the more scared I get.  I'm already putting a lot of presser on myself to make everything perfect and I know things are just not going to go according to plan and I'm going to feel like it's all my fault.  I know it's totally silly.  I just need to enjoy myself.  Part of me feels like if I just get all these fears and feelings out now that when he is here I can just be in the moment and I will have let go of all this stuff.  Here's hoping anyway.

The seemingly endless suck! PS This one's a downer.

I'm in a very odd relationship.  And while this is not a relationship blog, it is as much about relationships as anything else.  I have nothing to relate this to in any past experience.  Day to day I try to glase it over.  I try to make it sound like no big deal.  I even do it to you, dear reader.  Trying to relate this thing to normal things in life. But it's not normal.  Sometimes having Craig gone just feels like a series of complaints.  The truth of the matter is;

THIS SUCKS, IN STERIO, THIS SUCKS!

I got a big reminder of it yesterday.  I was having a rough day and I was feeling pretty down in the dumps.  I confronted a fear that had been upsetting me for several months.  I sent Craig an email telling about my day and how difficult it felt and blah, blah, blah.  I got it all out and in a way that felt good.  He emailed me back and was very sweet and supportive and said some things I wanted to hear, some things I didn't.  It balanced out to be "all the right things".  He really couldn't have said it better in person but it still felt insufficient.  It's in these moments that I realize how blank this thing really is.  Because, while email is great and phones are available and I hear from him fars more than any of my fore-mothers in war gone by ever did, there is still an emptiness in all this that can't be filled.  Because it's moments like this where words or even actions aren't enough or maybe they're too much.  I realized as I was falling a sleep very depressed that I didn't need anyone to say anything.  I didn't need anyone to do anything.  I just needed someone to be there.  To have someone else's energy there with me to keep me from floating away.  That is when my ability to see the silver-lining ended.

This is a real downer.  Sorry about that.  He'll be here in 3 weeks so there is every reason to believe that he'll be able to revive my ability to hope.

   

Little Boy Blue (this also counts as "This week in Emailing" because it's an email from Craig)

I had no idea what I was going to write about this week.  I started three different blog ideas but was getting nowhere and getting pretty impatient with Craig who I hadn't heard from in six days.  Then this morning I woke up to the following email and not only did he give me the fix I'd been needing he also fixed my problem.

Craig with his friend Lyda.  Aren't his eyes so blue?

A little bit of back story.  Craig has the most amazing blue eyes, like lazer-beams.  I first called him Blue-Lazer, then Blue now it's Little Boy Blue.  He hates them all and I think that's what I like best about them.

Craig sent me the following email in an attempt it get me to think of another.  I'm considering it.

Miss you bunches batgirl. and you really gotta get over this lazer blue thing. really, its beneath you. youre an actress, comedianne, writer...creativity is your whole life. You can come up with somethin better than a poorman's excuse for an American Gladiator's moniker. I understand your stubborn streak and natural sense of defiance. I like that part of you so much. You ain't some bimbo who does what she's told. But c'mon, take a step back from it and you'll realize that no one is called that because it doesn't demean the person who's title it is...it demeans the person who came up with said title. And that simply put makes it the Anti-Nickname.

Nickname rules: 

1. must be either a derision of an obvious physical trait or a subtle inside joke that only close friends are aware of.

2. must have a funny story to back up proposed nickname.

3. must be accepted by friends and/or relatives (subject/victim has little say in choosing but a good nickname is something he/she embraces).

4. shortenings of given and surnames are accepted, but are a worst case scenario (this also includes adding the suffix -y to given names). these are to be used sparingly and only in circumstances where embarrassing examples cannot be applied. see appx. 1.

5. true nicknames are predominately for men. as most women haven't the thick skin and emotional security that comes from years of torture, torment and lets face it, a complete lack of sophistication and intelligence.

6. the final and most important rule: Nicknames ARE NOT the same as Petnames.

Appendix 1: Petnames

The differences between a nickname and petname can be categorized in specific and general terms. In general, the difference is simply between intimate relations (i.e. committed sexual relationships: men/women, women/women, men/men, men/goats, catherine the great/horses, etc.). But that is an unsophisticated baseline categorization. The more subtle tale between Nick and Petnames are as follows: Petnames are usually thought of by girls to separate themselves and their partner from everyone else thereby enhancing the reality or illusion of intimacy (you ever hear a man called pookie or snookums  by their bar buddies? exception includes a 5 minute to 5 day rant by said friends when they hear a given Petname in public, usually on accident - Note: always the girls fault!). A Petname is an approved form of teasing towards women by their significant other. If you were to call a girlfriend or wife 'fatass', say goodbye to your testicles. however, a tactically placed Petname (usually either a half-truth, irony, or satire of a complete falsehood) can be an acceptable way of poking fun at said significant other (i.e. calling your skinny girlfriend 'fluffy', 'plumpy', 'tons of fun') - Note: be warned, not every woman has a sense of humor about herself and her natural insecurities. A Petname is obviously concocted when the relationship has solidified. Any Petname created before this point is null and void, and also a little creepy (or such name could become a candidate for Nickname status, but it must be voted on by a panel of close friends of the same gender as the namee). Finally, a Petname tends to have a minimum of 50/50 percent for the cute to teasing ratio; whereas a Nickname usually has 0/100 percent for the cute/teasing ratio. In conclusion, Nicknames are for public use by guys, and Petnames are for private use by couples.

So where does Lazer Blue (what does the other B stand for anyway?) stand? Decidedly too nice, too obvious and common a physical trait referenced, and too lame for a Nickname. Ergo, it MUST be a Petname. But not a very good one at that. 

Now would probably be a good time to tell you i hate Petnames. But as they go, this one doesnt make me want to vomit. Its just annoying in the wrong way. I think you can do better.

So thats my tirade for the month. hope you enjoy it. and youre more than welcome to sample it for your blog. it isnt book related, but hell, who are we kidding? that blog has as much to do with literature as military has to do with intelligence!

miss ya batgirl (can i comment on how cool it is that I gave you a nickname - it qualifies, even though your friends dont use it - and you like/tolerate it! ive never known a girl that cool, until you.)

until our next email,

Shy...Chuck...Copper...or is it Deadguy?

PS. i really dont care what you call me. i just felt like teasing you and giving you a hard time...for shits and giggles.

Isn't he adorable?

Introducing a new segment here at AGBC. I call it "This week in Emailing"

Here is where I sift through the emails of the week and find my favorite quote from among Craig's correspondence (and maybe some runners-up as well if the pool is really awesome.)  So without further ado
"THIS WEEK IN EMAILING" (for 09/13/10 - 09/19/10)

Grand Prize goes to a description of a care-package recently received from me.

"i did get you package. it was very sweet. everything in it was terribly useful and perfect. although if you send a scented letter next time remember that i live with a bunch of stank ass dudes...it was too much awesome! i literally pull it out every so often and waft it once about three feet from my face and the room smells like you for at least 2 hours." 

I like this one for a number of reasons.  #1 is the use of the term "stank-ass dudes".  He does have a flair for verbal fuckery.
Also, I particularly enjoy his attempt at chastising me byway of paying me a compliment.  He does this in verbal conversation too.  He'll dance a bone-headed circle around a point until I'm not quite sure what it is he wants, if anything at all.
Furthermore, I like that he takes the letter in question out periodically.  Maybe he'll take it out long enough to read it one of these days.
Please note there is one thing that does bother me.  He's stopped capitalizing altogether.  Should I be concerned?  I know the shift key is all the way over at the side of the keyboard but his pinkies seemed large enough to make the trip when last I saw them.  Could they have strunk?

Thank you to all entrants into this weeks contest.  Honorable mention goes to: "could use your help in locating 2 flicks."  For use of the word "Flicks".

"So your blog and (it's) dozens of readers are relying on my response and what I can recall from a book I read in 10 hours two and a half months ago?...hmmm" -Craig

This was promised ages ago and I am only now getting to it.  I apologize but promise no amends.  It is what it is.

Not really sure how to format this blog entry.  I would like to include both Craig's and my points of view. (Wow that sentence seems fraught with peril.  If I have any English majors in the house feel free to jump on that one.)  I guess I'm gonna go with the 'no rhyme or reason, just jumping in' approach.

So here are some semi-random quotes from the reviews that Craig and I wrote:

"I didn't finish to book.  I got bored as heck with it." -Julie

"Moore took a good idea and made it mundane." -Craig

"I think Moore should stick to what he's good at and write original stories and leave the re-working of great literature to people that have more aptitude for it." -Julie

"(He got)...me to laugh more than a few times...so I guess I'll let him live to write again. As for Stephanie Meyer, she's gotta go!" -Craig

"I do admire Moore's gift for inventive curse words: Fuckstockings? Nice." -Craig

"I was hoping for 'Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead' and I got 'O' starring Josh Hartnett" -Julie

"I did see King Lear performed once. in the little theatre at CSUN...IT SUCKED OUT LOUD!...could actually hear some of the audience snoring...The worst part was finding something nice to say to the actors at the afterparty. The good news was that the drunker I got, the easier and more pleasant the lying became." -Craig

"While drinking does help the lies go down easy it cannot replace decades of blowing smoke up the asses of an endless number of actors.  You don't know lies until you have to stroke the ego of your boyfriend for several hours every night of a shows run, just so he'll let you go to sleep.  Oh that magic I spin when sleepy and dating that most delicate of creatures, the narcissistic actor." -Julie

"While the book wasn't that great it did do one thing for me.  I watched Sir. Ian do his Lear with the Royal Shakespeare Co on Netflix.  And that is something I probably would not have thought to do had I not read this book.  Sir Ian, Sir Ian, Sir Ian.  ACTION.  "How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is.  To have a thankless child!"  CUT.  Sir Ian, Sir Ian, Sir Ian.  Pretty Great." -Julie

Neither of us really liked to book all that much.  Which is great.  At least I know we think alike.  What's best about it was not really reading the book.  It was just nice to have a set thing to talk about.  It's been a hard few weeks.  It's been hard to find common ground.  It's been hard not to feel bogged down in the day to day.  He's been worked pretty hard.  He's a very strong man with a pretty high tolerance for duty and responsibility but he starting to feel the weight of it.  I'm a pretty strong girl but there is a certain amount of isolation in this brand of place-holding.  I think we both got a certain amount of pleasure in politely disliking something together.

Things I didn't know I'd miss.

Craig and I are still going back and forth about the book but I promise part 2 of "So, maybe it is a book club.  A little." very soon.  In the meantime hear is a little ditty I like to call things I didn't know I'd miss.  Enjoy.

When you know someone is leaving for a deployment you expect a lot of things and you try to prepare yourself.  I read a lot of things from army wives and girlfriends and it's everything you expect it to be.  It helps but it's all pretty much the same.   The same advice passed from one person to the next and with each person it becomes more general.  All you have to do is find someone who's writing style fits your personality and it will make great sense.  

It feels very much a product of the army.  The army takes all these men and women from different parts of the country, with different backgrounds, who all joined for  different reasons and have different expectations and they make them the same as possible because that is how they work best in a war.  That is how they fight best, united in everything.  That's what it feels like happens in army wives (I refer to Wives and Girlfriends but I recognize Husbands too).  You're surrounded by this world of uniformity, you're not OF it you are IN it and IT starts to rub off on you. The reality is that there are things that are true for almost everyone and advice that will help almost everyone and I am grateful to have these resources.  

    That said, here are some things that I never realized and was never told I'd miss.  In no particular order:  

   

Holding hands.  It was never my thing but now I don't have his big mitt to clumsily crush my fingers I find that my hands feel empty.  

Snoring.  He says he doesn't but he totally does.  

Toothpaste.  He uses this Orangey-peppermint crap that tastes like cough medicine.  

Terrible movies.  Craig watches everything and inevitably by the time we would go to the movies together the only thing he hadn't seen was something awful.  

Oppressive snuggling.  He likes to sleep close and he runs so hot.  It's like being mauled by a space-heater.  

Radio wars 2009; KCRW v. JACKFM.  My car, my station!!!    

Foot rubs.  Oddly my friends have no interest in touching my feet. (I know I said no particular order but if there were an order this would be first and most important.  OM gwad!!  I miss it.)

 This Face.

Who knew that Craig's cranky "No more pictures" face would be something to wish for?

     Someone to take the book off my chest when I've fallen asleep reading.  I thought it was the book fairy but it turns out it was Craig all along.

Someone to do the dishes for.  Living alone, the temptation to just let them sit there is too great.  That's actually true for cleaning my apartment in general.

Trying to keep up running with him.  If you had told me during one of our trail runs that I would actually miss trying to keep up with him I would told you that you were crazy.  But it was nice to have someone fitter than me pushing me to work harder. 

Refrigerator Roulette.  Will the pudding still be there when I get back?  You never know.

    All those things and a million other stupid things that only a boyfriend will do.  Maybe my next blog should be things I don't miss because now I feel sad.  Hey that's something I don't miss--feeling sad.  

 

So maybe it is a book club. A little.

Proof that not only can I get the book from the library but I can also hold it in front of me.  

     So I thought I might mention where the name for my blog came from. When Craig knew for sure he was leaving I went through many thoughts and fears. Not the least of which was the fear that we'd have nothing in common for a year. So the name for this blog came from an idea I had to help Craig an I in our separation. We knew that our lives were going to be very different for about a year. Well his life was going to be different, mine was going to be very much the same as always. Knowing that, we realized that we might have a difficult time finding things to email about. Ways to relate to each other beyond, "this is what my day was like." Especially since his would be edited to protect my fearful heart and mine would be edited to shield him against homesickness. So we decided, well I decided, that we would starting reading the same book at the same time so we'd at least have that way of relating.

It hasn't been going well, for a number of reasons. 

1. Craig will read any book you put in front of him and I have trouble focusing on books that don't truly interest me. 

1a. He will burn through books with some speed and I, when given something I enjoy, like to savor it. 

1b. We don't always have the same taste in books 

2. My schedule is very much the same day after day, week after week. Craig's schedule is sporadic. He could be slogging for days at seemingly endless tasks and then have absolutely nothing to do for days. In slow times he can read, lets say, one-million books. At busy times, nothing. So while I'll be reading the same book for a month he'll have read it, forgotten it, moved on to a new book, forgotten that one and so on and so forth. When I'm done with a book he can't remember what I'm talking about. 

3. Our access is...different. When he was in possession of a KINDLE I could read a book and he could download it to read but now that said KINDLE has been stolen I have to wait until he's read something and I can get it from the library. Boo.

All that said we are making an attempt at it. He has read recently "Fool" by Christopher Moore and I am making an attempt to power through it before he's forgotten it or I've become distracted by something shiny. I got it a few days ago and I'm about 2/3rds of the way through. When I'm finished I will enthrall you with transcripts of the emails that gush forth from our "something normal" to talk about. Stay tuned.

"More things I just shouldn't watch."

My heart goes out to this mans family. I'm feeling just plain nut-bags for even watching this stuff.  Craig has the same job as this man.

Staff Sgt. Derek Farley Dies Disarming IED.

   The first time I watched this I got about 10 seconds in before I just couldn't stand the stupid look on the newscaster's smug face.  The second time I watched it was even shorter.  I finally got through the whole thing today.  It made me so angry.  Maybe I'm just an angry person in general.

   It's interesting to me that there was once a time I could think objectively about these kinds of news stories.  I could watch them and think how sad it is for the man's parents, family, girlfriend.  How strong they are all being.  But it wouldn't register for me.  I was completely disconnected from it, as are so many Americans.  I feel like stories like this are evidence of that disconnection.  There they are, the grieving parents, stoic as statues.  Playing the part that they think their son would play.  Acting the way they think he would behave.  And they're probably right.  Soldiers are some phlegmatic motherfuckers.  It serves a purpose in there lives.  Emotion is messy.  When your life depends on focus that mess is a luxury.

     Why do we do this sort of thing?  It seems like torture to put these people's very real grief on display like it's inspirational or entertainment.  Forcing these poor people to recount the last memories and present the last mementos of their son for a viewing audience.  The segment is far too short to really honor the pain.  I guess we really don't want to do it justice, it would make us all feel far too guilty.  I think that is why I hate this story.  It makes those people who have lost a love one relive their sorrow, those like me, who have someone still in danger sick with fear and leaves those without direct connection relatively unmoved.  It's a lose, lose, lose situation.   I don't know what the answer is but with a 24 hours of news a day I know we have the time and resources to do better.

GOOD THINGS

Lately I've been finding myself dwelling on what sucks about this. What I don't have and what I wish I had. Lately the only time I've felt good about Craig being gone is when I don't think about it. But the truth is that it isn't all bad. If it was I wouldn't be writing a blog. I'd be dating some some British Bass player. But I'm not because this person, with all his faults, makes me hope for the best and makes "wait and see" seem reasonable. So, for this blog, I thought I'd take a little time to point out the good stuff. If only to pull myself out of the dumps, which are lame and also for suckers.

Good thing number one. There is something very Edwardian about being in love with a man in far off places. It has been long know about me that I am ever so slightly obsessed with the British Naval Tradition. It has most recently been illustrated in my reading of eight or so Patrick O'Brien books and watching Master and Commander like...I don't know...I'm guessing, approximately...one-million times. It's fascinating!! And anyone who doesn't think so is probably sane and not a dork like me. Anyway, the couples that lived within this world were separated for long periods of time. The distance creates a resonance between them. The way a violin string can be stretched and stretched and as it gets pulled it becomes sweeter and at times, sadder. Sometimes making an aching sound full longing and sometimes one of joy.

Good thing number two. When communication is very limited that limitation makes it valuable. When facebook can tell me what half my friends are eating for lunch a real email from someone who has half and hour of internet access at a time is special. In an age when communication is so instant I still get to have moments of anticipation. Having to wait can be very romantic. And there is nothing quite like a love letter. Now it's not like we're using carrier pigeons or, god forbid, snail mail but even the little bit of waiting is excruciatingly wonderful. And I get gems like this;

"i hope writing helps you as much as it does me. i'm becoming slightly more self aware. i now have surpassed the self-awareness of a sea sponge! look at me, I'm evolving!"

and

" i just have to cowboy the fuck up and sort out my own shit." (PS I have no idea where he got this phrase. He grew up in LA. The closest he's ever been to "cowboy-ing the fuck up" is a horseback ride through Griffith Park.)

Good thing number three. My life is all my own. No answering to nobody. (Except my mother.) It's like I don't have to be lonely a'cause I have a boyfriend and we've got that achy voiliny thing going on. But I also have total autonomy. It's like the best of both worlds. (and also the shit parts of both worlds but we're not talking about that right now.)

Good thing number four. My patriotic duty is totally done. My apathy-guilt factor is knocked down like 25%.

Plus, I'm here, not there. I get to wake up everyday in my own bed and live my boring, but safe, life. I get to sit and traffic in my good-old car and reach over to my passenger seat and remember holding his hand in that self-same car. I get to watch my brother get married and see my family. I get go to bed every night knowing I'm in no danger.

In the end I do get to be in love with a wonderful person who happens to be on the other side of the planet. My life is pretty great.

SOLDIERS SURPRISE or FUCKING FACEBOOK or THINGS I JUST SHOULDN'T WATCH.

There are good days and there are bad days. It's life right? Some days I don't even think about it and some days I burst into tears driving in my car. What sucks is that you can never really predict what a will trigger either and that makes everyday a dice-roll. My alarm went off early this morning and dragged me out of a beautiful dream. I can't remember what happened. All I remember was that Craig was there and we were together. Like in the same country. In the dream I felt great but waking up was a little heartbreak. I got over it with a little help from my morning coffee and jumped on facebook and someone posted this.

(The music is ridiculous but I spent 10 minutes weeping nonetheless.)

I also watched "The Messenger". I know. I'm a moron.

I seems so crazy that anyone can make this sort of thing work. It's so painful, how do you get to the other end. Everyday your thoughts about the whole thing change. Two weeks ago I was fine. Focusing on my life and just getting things done. Today, I don't feel like getting out of bed.

The thing that is getting to me today is the total lack of assurance. There are no guarantees here. There is nothing saying that he'll come back the same as when he left. Or that he'll come back at all. Or that I'll be the same or feel the same. All I can do is get up and hope for the best. Today that feels like an exercise in futility, but it's not like I have any other options.

I don't know how I'm going to do this.

So I guess I'll start

I have no idea what I'm doing. I opened this blog account months ago. Before Craig even left the country and only now am I even starting to write anything.

When this all started I thought it would be fun. I didn't think anything would come of it. Now I'm knee-deep in a cranberry bog of crazy and I wonder how anyone makes a real go of it. I guess I'll should start at the beginning.

I met "The Sgt." on Oct. 3, 2009, his 31 birthday. It was a strange confluence of events that

even made it possible and I get some pleasure out of sharing so here goes.

I was finishing a shift at The Daily Grill, an important shift actually. It was exactly 3 years since I started working a that self-same establishment and wondering, as one often does, why I was still there after so long. It goes without saying but I'll say it anyway. I was in need of a drink. I took my apron off, clocked out and sent a text:

"Need beer. Who's in?"

I sent this message to 10 people and vowed that whatever the response I was going to go out and not succumb to the call of my sweat-pants. On the drive home from work I got 3 bites. Two were something similar to: "I wish I could but have to work in the morning." and "Want to but I'm ironing my hanky's." The third was from Miss Kara Wall. A girl that in hind-sight has changed the course of my current life.

"Where?" She says.

"Snake Pit?" Says I.

And with that, it was off to the Snake Pit we rolled. On my way to this hole in the wall situated in a semi-cozy part of Melrose I received a call from Kara to let me know she's bringing her roommate Bethany.

"The more the merrier." Says I. Then she said something that changed everything;

"See you at The Cat and the Fiddle."

"Um, wha...Okay. See you soon." I replied hanging up my phone.

Did you see it? It was a change of venue. At the time I believed it to be purposefully but sometime later I was to be told that it was merely a slip of the tongue. So I pass Snake Pit in favor of the classier digs at the Cat and the Fiddle. Parking, walking and showing my ID to the nice man at the front I gave no thought to the fact that Kara changed bars without so much as a "hope you don't mind." I got my beer and waited in the courtyard for my friends. I got a call apx 5 minutes later letting me know that they were almost at The Snake Pit and that is where the confusion was hashed out. She had said the wrong name and went to the right bar. Confusion cleared, plans changed and Kara quickly turned around to meet me at the bar on Sunset that I'd ended up in because of her slippery tongue. Kara and Bethany arrived and we began drinking our casual beers in the style to which ladies such as ourselves have become accustomed. After one beer we decided to have another and we removed ourselves to the bar indoors. This is

when I met him, the man I now refer to as "The Sgt."

Ordering a beer I bumped him with my purse. Forcing him to spill part of the birthday beer bought for him by Lyda. A friend of his that I would not meet on this night but would come to appreciate later in a relationship fraught with hurdles. "Sorry. My gigantic purse keeps hitting you." I said. "That's okay." Craig replied. Then I notice how handsome he was. Tall, 6'1" as it would turn out, and Ginger which I had a thing for ever since J.Go at Utah State. He turned and spoke to us with all the hypnotic power a strong square jaw can weald over single women and we all made polite conversation. After, I'm guessing 2 minutes, came the words the would turn my ears deaf and prompt me to walk away.

"What do you do?" Asked Kara.

"I'm in the Army."

"How interesting. I'm gonna...go...sit down." I said in reply.

To Kara's credit she continued to make conversation and didn't instantly lay judgements on him like I did. I was confused by the revelation and I, I'm sad to say, assumed Craig was a Republican and tried to make my exit. As I retreated Kara and Bethany followed like good friend and we returned to our perch by the fountain to continue our girls evening.

Luckily for me Craig took a shine to me and made a point to find us later at the fountain. Though I didn't notice it on the night, Craig was enthralled with me. Kara noticed and pointed it out to me later.

After about 20 minutes he approached us. While I was turned off by his assumed republicanism I was won-over by the sheer wattage of his charm. He was well read, well educated and most importantly, funny. After talking to him my assumptions about him didn't seem to matter anymore. We talked and talked and while he gave polite nods to my friends he always returned to me as soon as possible. I was the thing he couldn't stop looking at and listening to. We talked long after my friends had to get home and sleep and when they closed the bar we were still talking. We were still talked while he walked me to my car. And when my friends called to make sure I got him safe, we were still talking. It was amazing. We sat in my car and talked and talked and talked until 3 in the morning. He had that gift that some people have of making the person they are with feel like the most important person in the world. It was strange to feel so acknowledged.

I wasn't in the market for anything serious or anything anything really. I was three months out of a really shit and destructive three year relationship. But Craig was and is a man who knows what he wants. No embarrassment, no fear. He just goes for things all pistons firing and I happened to be that thing he wanted.

After some less-than G-rated making out I drove him to his car and we parted ways. He asked for my number and I gave it to him. No expectations, just a pleasant end to a good night. He called me the next day and the day after that and the day after that. We've been together ever since.

It's been difficult but not in a way I've ever experienced before. In past relationships it's always felt like in a storm there was something wrong with the ship. The relationship has a leak and even small storms were too much to navigate. With Craig the relationship feels strong but the storm is massive. I don't know how it's going to turn out. I don't know if we'll make it through. But I'm in it and hoping for the best.