Carolina in My Mind



Grapevines

Sorry for the radio silence.  My Husband and I just got back from his college roommate's wedding in North Carolina.  He was one of six groomsmen...one brother, one high school friend and four college friends.  John & Christie got married in a vineyard; it was a really beautiful setting and other than the temperature hovering around 92 degrees, the weather complied with the ceremony.







I wore a spring green v-neck dress with a draped tulip skirt from Spiegel and got a lot of compliments on it.  I think it made up for my rehearsal dinner outfit...a black sleeveless top and black satin cigarette pants with bronze pumps and a bronze belt.  Among all the southern belles in their sundresses and straw hats in the restaurant I looked like I was starring in a one woman off-Broadway show full of bad poetry and vagina euphemisms.

Ceremony

My Husband set up our hotel room as the gathering place, so couples were filing in and out at all hours pretty much the whole weekend.  Apparently it had the word CONFESSIONAL over the door, too, because one afternoon when My Husband was in the shower the groom's older brother (and best man) came in and spilled his guts to me between swigs of Maker's Mark.  Apparently he hates Christie and would never in a million years have been enthusiastic about standing up for his brother at the altar.

Seriously, why do people tell me these things?

So I had to stand at the mirror and put on my make up while making appropriate-yet-non-committal sympathetic noises about how Christie hasn't done anything to ingratiate herself into the family, how she and John's sister don't speak and how he wishes John would just call the whole thing off.  But, in some kind of martyred spirit of brotherliness he's going through with being involved in the ceremony because he just wants his brother to be happy and however unfortunate it is, Christie is the person who accomplishes that.

So let me step up on my soapbox for a minute and express my deep and long-standing belief that all siblings and friends of people in serious relationships should KEEP THEIR NEGATIVE OPINIONS TO THEMSELVES AND SHUT THE HELL UP.  Is the significant other of you loved one abusive?  Is he/she forcing them to sever ties with family and friends?  Is this significant other a violent religious fanatic or anarchist?  Is he or she regularly stealing money or property from your loved one, or cheating, or involved in high risk illegal activities? 

If not, then I repeat: SHUT THE HELL UP.

I am so over unsupportive siblings, family members and friends.  Just because she's not the person you'd pick doesn't mean she's not perfect for your loved one.  Newsflash: everyone is different.  You don't have to be friends, but you damn sure have to be civil and not act like being your brother's best man is akin to getting railroad spikes driven through your pupils. 

Maybe she's antisocial (or maybe she's shy).  Maybe she shuts herself up in her house (or maybe she has anxiety about large crowds).  Maybe her sense of humor is off (or maybe what you think is funny is off).  Whatever.  IT DOESN'T MATTER.  In this situation YOU DO NOT MATTER. 

Try and focus on...oh, I don't know...the people getting married.  Who put out this memo that a wedding is about absolutely everyone involved and invited except the bride and groom?  I want to kick that person in the teeth. 

Anyway.

We're home now and My Husband is back to work.  I'm off from the shelter this week because our Spousal Spur Ride (more on that later) is Friday and I don't want to completely suck through the whole thing.  Hope you all had a great Memorial Day.

Buoy Enjoys a Taste of Summer

It's warming up here on the prairie!  We thought you'd like to share in Buoy's joy at getting a watermelon treat this evening after we finished dinner :)

The music is royalty free and courtesy of composer Kevin MacLeod.

James 1:17

"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change." -- James 1:17

The gratitude of people who have survived disasters never ceases to amaze me.  They cry and they mourn the loss of things, but they always express thankfulness for being alive.  In the coverage of the earthquake and tsunami in Japan as well as the more recent tornado destruction in the southern United States, I see countless instances of grace and gratitude when one would assume such a catastrophe would embitter its victims.

I came across another video of a woman in Tuscaloosa, Alabama who lives alone except for her three cats.  When the tornado hit, the destruction of her house was complete and she was only saved from the storm by a wall falling on her.  Two of her cats stayed with her but one was sucked away by the wind...for three weeks she returned to the wreckage of her home looking for the 10-year-old cat.

While interviewing with a local news station about her ordeal, the conversation was interrupted by a soft mewing coming from behind them.  Miraculously, the cat had survived and had been drifting around the ravaged neighborhood looking for his mother.


Puts all the little nonsense things that stress us out daily in perspective, huh?  And as a woman who cherishes her fur baby (our 2-year-old cocker spaniel, Buoy), I know exactly the feeling of relief that woman is experiencing at having all her kids safe and sound.

God bless her and all the victims of the carnage in the South.

Birth Control Update

So I've been off my birth control for a full two months.  According to my ovulation tests and the other signs I've learned to look for (basal body temperature, cervical mucus) I have yet to ovulate.  I'm starting to get slightly nervous, since we only have until July 31st to try and get pregnant.  August 1st is nine months from April when My Husband is scheduled to deploy again.
Dulling the fear that six years on the pill will prevent me from ever getting pregnant or I have some other dread disease that causes infertility, I'm starting to notice a symptom that the pill is getting out of my system.  So I suppose that should cheer me up a little.

Symptom: I'm ridiculously horny.

I apologize for being blunt, but it's true.  When I started researching the birth control pill I saw some side effects concerning one's libido, but I didn't notice any real change.  That is, until I started Zoloft a year and a half ago.

Yes, I am on antidepressants and yes, I need them.  I've had three major depressive episodes in my life...one at 15, one at 22 and one again at 24 when My Husband deployed.  I was suicidal during each and practicing self-harm.  Being enrolled in military health care (and away from my parents' home and opinions), I felt comfortable to start seeing a therapist and taking medication.  The way Doc (my psychologist) explained it, my history of depression means I don't have enough serotonin in my brain to function effectively.  I need medication, like vitamins, to contribute what my body can't produce on its own.  I'm also learning coping mechanisms in therapy and working out regularly to attempt to boost my natural serotonin levels.

Anyway.

Zoloft also tends to lower a person's sex drive, so this is pretty much a one-two-punch to my libido.  It wasn't a huge issue, since My Husband was gone for 12 months, but six months after his return I still had to work to get "in the mood."  That is no longer the case.

I'm not a raging nymphomaniac, but I am finding it difficult to be physically without My Husband for days at a time.  As my last post illustrates, I'm dreaming about kissing other men.  I'm attracted to people I wasn't before (Hugh Laurie on House.  Weight-lifters wearing those dopey toed shoes at the gym.  And a few of my husband's Army associates, but I won't name names).  Embarrassing.

I want to flirt with strangers, which is so unlike me.  I'm living vicariously through television couples with highly romantic storylines.  I do a double-take whenever I hear a nice deep baritone, especially if it's slightly raspy (I think that's what first attracted me to Hugh.  And if he ends up Googling himself and reading this, keep up the good work being sexy).

Things are just...hotter...than normal, you know what I mean?  

And since the ovulation tests show there are no eggs on deck yet, I have to assume my spike in sexuality is due to the lack of hormones fucking with it (pun intended).

I'm not completely sure how to cope with this new development.  I could discuss it with Doc, but I'm a little uncomfortable talking about sex with him...he's a 60-year-old Mormon from Montana. 

Luckily for me, My Husband's field exercises end tomorrow and he won't have to leave again until after Memorial Day.  If having sex every day doesn't sate me, then I have something new to think about. 

What Dreams May Come

I'm about to tell you something I've never told anyone else, so get ready.

When My Husband's gone, I'm so starved for affection I dream about kissing other men.

Now, let's get serious for a minute.  I've never, in the six years we've been together, cheated on My Husband.  In fact, I've never even had the urge to do so.  But I've noticed in the weeks he's been out in the field I have regular dreams about kissing other guys.

The guys are never ex-boyfriends or real people I've actually kissed and usually not even people I know.  The last two I can remember was an acquaintance from college who's profile I passed by on Facebook that day and an actor from a rerun of House I watched...people I'm not even attracted to (although I am in the dream).

I've never had sex in these dreams either.  I've actually only had two sex dreams in my life that have not been about My Husband.  One was about Colin Farrell (I was 16) and the other was about...ahem...Kim Kardashian.  Don't ask me why.  The brain is a funny thing.

In these dreams I'm usually doing something alone...going to a party, walking through a city.  My interactions with whatever guy I'm dreaming about are all very flirty and rom/com.  Sometimes I'm not married in the dreams...other times I know I'm married so I stop the "affair" with kissing.  Rarely I realize I'm dreaming (called lucid dreaming) and then I just go all in.  When else am I going to have the opportunity to make out with Bradley Cooper (another recent subconscious conquest)?

To tell you the truth, it's kind of fun.  I haven't the slightest clue as to whether it's healthy or not, but it's fun.  It's the kind of feeling you have when you're young and have a crush that's blooming or just starting a relationship with someone...so you're kind of tingly and on edge.  I mean, it's my dream so the guys in it are really nice and attentive and it's fun.

But then I wake up and I miss My Husband worse than before.

Since I don't have these dreams when I'm in bed with him, I assume they're just about the fact it's hard to be separated  We've been married two years and it still hurts when I'm without him.  I guess I crave a physical connection with a man I care about (which, in my dreams, is exactly what I'm getting).

When we first started dating, my mother warned me about long-distance relationships and how I'd miss out on a lot of the benefits of allowing myself to be close with a man...hugging, kissing, being held.  For some reason that's ringing really true right now.

Will I tell My Husband this happens?  Maybe.  I doubt he'd be jealous of actors and college acquaintances.

But then again, I may keep it to myself.  They are my dreams, after all.

Mother/Daughter Drama

Holden (older brother) called My Husband last night.

From what I assume is a half concerned/half passive-aggressive place, Holden gave My Husband a heads up about some recent drama between their mother and India (older sister) that involved us.

Apparently India didn't call their mother on Mother's Day last week.  When my mother-in-law called India the next day, she was miffed that India's husband Stuart (who the family pretty much hates) didn't talk to her on the phone as well.  When the two spoke again yesterday, they got into some kind of argument about how I sent pink lilies to my mother-in-law and made an effort to speak to her on Mother's Day and India didn't do a thing.

Holden told My Husband that he "didn't want to repeat her [India's] exact words," but that some disparaging things had been said about me and that India was angry and thought I was trying to show her up.

Surprisingly, I did not react very strongly to this development.  I'm regularly deflecting less-than-complimentary statements about how I'm perfect and get special treatment.  Last summer when My Husband's family set up a beach vacation for everyone, I asked if they could try and get a dog-friendly rental so I could bring Buoy.  Dorian called My Husband a few days later to harass him about how I was some kind of little princess who needed her dog with her 24/7. 

That's besides the fact that when My Husband and I were first dating, my first meeting with India ended with her getting drunk and asking My Husband why he'd rather spend time with "some whore" than with his own family.

Case in point, this is not the worse thing I've ever heard concerning my in-laws.

What really sucks is that I don't think India is ever going to really let me in...and frankly, I've never met a woman more in need of a sister then India.  My Husband and I are her best allies in the family (we both like her husband and support her marriage and her life in Chicago) and we're the guardians of her daughter should anything happen to them.

We were getting along so much better lately...that is, she hadn't said or done anything mean to me and I was starting to feel comfortable around her.  Now that's all blown.

And I know she's under a ton of pressure.  Her family judges her every move and regularly criticizes her choices.  I'm sure she's afraid My Husband's and my children will eclipse her daughter as the favorite Delaney babies.  And I bet she's pissed no matter how hard of a time I've had with them, I'm still here and making slow but steady progress.

But when I have a hard time, I deal.  When India has a hard time, she blames.  And I'm back to being her favorite target.

Fall TV

"Girl with TV" by guerrilla artist Banksy
courtesy of Milan Giana's MySpace Page

I love television.  I'm a big fan of media in general, but I love television.  When My Husband was deployed I had our set on almost all the time, just for background noise.  Now I make a conscious effort to shut it off if I'm not paying attention to it, but I love it just the same.

My Husband's deployment was the climax of a series of life-changing events that occurred over the summer of 2009.  We got married in July.  Three days later we moved 1500 miles away to his duty station.  We'd never lived together before...in reality, we'd never spent more than two consecutive weeks together (long distance relationship from the get-go).  We got a puppy.  He deployed.  And I found myself alone (except for the puppy), completely isolated from everyone and everything I'd grown up with...a married woman with no husband.  All in the span of 8 weeks.

There were times in those first weeks he was gone that commenting to the television about something I was watching were the only words I'd speak all day.  Modern Family and Cougar Town actually made me laugh out loud, a sound that was foreign to my ears after hours of solitude.

I digress.  But you get my point.

So I'm pretty enthusiastic about new shows as they arrive.  Here's my list of what looks good for the fall:

ABC

• Pan Am: I love me some Mad Men inspired drama since we don't watch the original that much here (My Husband finds it beautifully shot but very depressing), and this soapy series seems promising...ever since Zooey Deschanel ran away from home to be a stewardess in Almost Famous, I've found this 60s era occupation fascinating.
• Once Upon a Time: ABC is cashing in on the dark fairy tale market with this show about a troubled young woman who moves to a strange backwoods town in Maine only to discover the stories she heard as a child may be based in reality.  I don't think the market is ready for all the magical shows the big networks are financing (see Grimm down below), so I'm not sure this one will make it.

NBC

• Smash: Debra Messing (Will & Grace) and American Idol alum Katherine McPhee star in this mid-season airing song-and-dance infused series chronicling the ins-and-outs of a Broadway show about Marilyn Monroe (how's that for a sentence full of hyphenates?).  I'll try anything about Marilyn once, but this actually looks good.  Plus, there will be singing.  By people who can actually sing (you can thank Glee for that bit of genius).
• Grimm: David Greenwalt (the guy behind a staple of mine, Angel) is working on this fairy-tale inspired detective show that promises to be gritty as well as enchanting.  From what I've read it seems dangerously close to the policeman/witch angle of Charmed's later seasons, but I think we could all use a little more magic in our evenings.

• The Playboy Club: Hugh Hefner is a marketing genius and the idea and execution of the Playboy Magazine empire is a highly underrated piece of American history.  I think Eddie Cibrian, who stars as a Chicago lawyer, is a real-life cad...perversely, this might make him really shine in the role.  Hopefully for new wife LeAnn Rimes he can keep his hands (and all other appendages) off the Bunnies.
• Brave New World: Rumor has it Robby Benson (voice of Disney's the Beast) stars in this half-hour comedy about historical reenacters in a 17th century-era village. This just sounds like fun.

FOX

• The New Girl: Eccentric-but-charming elementary school teacher breaks up with her boyfriend and starts a new life in an apartment with three male roommates.  The formula may seem archaic, but this series stars Zooey Deschanel, whom I love (along with her sister, Bones star and Boston University graduate Emily Deschanel) so I will definitely be tuning in.

• Finder: Speaking of Bones, this new series by creator Hart Hanson is loosely based on the "Locator" novels about a man who has a slightly ridiculous ability to find anyone or anything anywhere in the world.  Since the backdoor pilot is connected to one of my favorite shows (and despite having been burned in a similar situation with Private Practice) I will give this one a shot.

FX

• Wilfred: Suicidal Elijah Wood has to put off offing himself for his cute female neighbor when she asks him to get involved in the care of her dog, Wilfred.  The twist?  Depressed Wood sees a man in a grody dog costume when he looks at Wilfred (and converses with him as such) while the rest of the world sees a regular dog.  I've been looking forward to this one since the promos came out in January.

TNT

• Franklin & Bash: They grow up so fast...Breckin Meyer (of Clueless fame) and Mark-Paul Gosselar (the immortal Zack Morris) play Devil-may-care lawyers who's non-orthodox practices come under fire after they're hired by that slightly creepy guy from the Fantasy Island remake for his stuffy marble-and-glass firm.  I wasn't into this one at first, but the more commercials I see for it the more I think I may like their chemistry. 

CANCELLED!

• Mr. Sunshine: Got a little taste of this light but witty comedy over the spring: the man-child manager of the Sunshine Arena (played comfortably by Matthew Perry) makes a conscious effort to be a better person in all aspects of his existence. I worked in a sports arena through college, and though it wasn't the size of the building in the show this particular setting really spoke to me.  I'm pretty sure Matthew Perry is not the liability that Charlie Sheen is even if he's heading for rehab again, so what's with the cancellation?  Not happy about this one.
• Off the Map: Come on, seriously?!  I loved this Grey's Anatomy-meets-Gilligan's Island doctor fest.  It had the right amount of drama and humor to keep it watchable even when 25-foot anacondas were strangling tourists in the middle of the jungle.  And of course I can't rhapsodize enough about the gorgeousness that is Nicholas Gonzalez.  The worst part is all 13 ordered episodes have aired, so I don't even get any closure :(

Random Rumor: Youngest Mother in Modern History

Dr. Lozada, Lina and little Gerardo in 1939

This Random Rumor is provided by Snopes.

Yes, there is a record of the youngest mother in modern history.  And yes, you will be surprised.

Lina Medina was 5 years old when she gave birth to her son, Gerardo.

Born in Peru in 1933, Lina's pregnancy was documented by physician/researcher Edmundo Escomel and Dr. Gerardo Lozada, then the chief of staff at the Hospital of Pisco.  According to the girl's medical history, she had fully developed breasts and had been menstruating since she was 8 months old.  She delivered her son via Cesarean Section on May 14, 1939.

Her father was jailed while the police investigated him for incest, but they couldn't find any evidence to support the idea.  Lina didn't have the verbal skills necessary to explain what happened to her, and no one ever figured out who the father of her child was.

Lina grew up relatively normally after that...her son was raised by her parents as though he was their youngest child.  She married, had another son (who lives in Mexico) and still resides in Peru.

Fighting Music

These songs are great for getting your adrenaline up.  I listen to this playlist when I'm working out my aggression.  Parental advisory suggested...some of the songs on this list have some very bad words in them.

• "Where My Girls At" by 702
• "My Own Worst Enemy" by Lit
• "Crazy Bitch" by Buckcherry
• "Gunpowder & Lead" by Miranda Lambert
• "Breakin' Dishes" by Rihanna
• "Stronger" by Britney Spears
• "Fighter" by Christina Aguilera
• "Ring the Alarm" by Beyoncé
• "Pretty Girl" by Sugarcult
• "U & Ur Hand" by Pink
• "Goodbye" by Kristiana DeBarge
• "Now I'm That Bitch" by Livvi Franc
• "Let's Go" by Trick Daddy featuring Lil Jon & Twista
• "Think Twice" by Eve 6
• "These Walls" by Trapt
• "Where Da Hood At" by DMX
• "I Stand Alone" by Godsmack
• ".45" by Shinedown
• "Love is Blind" by Eve
• "Set it Off" by POD

Worst Country in the World to be a Woman

According to the American Journal of Public Health, the Congo (a country of 70 million people in Africa about the size of Western Europe) is officially the worst country in the world in which to be a woman.

In the 3 hours since I've been awake, 144 women and girls have been raped there.

Of course, the numbers could be much higher as these statistics were gathered in face-to-face interviews.  How many women do you know are 100% forthcoming about repeated sexual violence committed by war criminals as well as "regular" people?

Let's try for some perspective here: in the United States, a woman has about a 0.05% chance of being raped once in her lifetime.  That's 1 person in every 2,000.  In the Congo, that percentage leaps to almost 3% (3 people out of every hundred); and in the worst hit areas of the war zone, it's almost 7% (7 people out of every hundred).  And those are very conservative numbers.

The implications are staggering...not just for the victims, but for their loved ones and their children.  We're talking about a generation of babies growing up knowing their father raped their mother.  There could be a veritable explosion of sexually transmitted infections, from curable syphilis to HIV and AIDS.  And the psychological ramifications of unchecked sexual violence is nearly indescribable.

So what can we do?  There are many charities aimed at helping women in the Congo, including WomenforWomen.org, RaiseHopeforCongo.org and RunforCongoWomen.org. 

The armed groups perpetrating most of the violence against women are after control of Africa's major mineral contributions to capitalism: gold, tin, tungsten and tantalum.  These are major ingredients in our electronics (including our cell phones and laptops).  You can push retail companies sell items made from non-conflict materials (similar to the recent uproar over blood diamonds).

The only other thing I can suggest is teaching our children the world is bigger than our personal backyards...it's necessary to maintain an emotional connection to human beings all over the globe.  Service to mankind should be a hallmark of everyone's existence from childhood on.

I know it seems impossible, but we have to try.  You don't just fight the fights you can win...you fight the fights that need fighting.

Grey's Anatomy

I miss Grey's Anatomy.

I started watching this ABC medical drama when it debuted as a mid-season replacement for a show I can't even remember.  I was a loyal viewer all through college and after graduation...even when they consistently depicted all Army personnel as being gung-ho for battle 24/7 or as tortured PTSD-ridden shells of their former selves.

I was loyal through all of Meredith and Derek's break-ups and make-ups, Izzy's character disintegration (Heigl's eagerness to leave the show was palpable through all her scenes) and Alex's lack of growth.  I loved that show.  I still love it.

But with a husband deployed overseas and overhearing gunshots during our phone conversations, the final days of Season Six and the sum total of Season Seven are beyond my capabilities as a viewer.  I couldn't handle it.  I couldn't handle the finale (a disgruntled husband of a former patient goes on a shooting rampage throughout the hospital, killing many).  I knew I wouldn't be able to sit there and watch Derek bleed from a bullet wound while his wife pleads for his life, offering her own in exchange.

So I didn't.  I haven't watched a single episode of Grey's Anatomy in more than a year.



Season 7 Cast, courtesy of http://www.daemonstv.com



I know it's just a television show and I'm too emotionally invested in such transparent fiction, but I can't help myself.  Instead of giving me some respite from my life, Grey's started to really depress me; I'd be raw for days after an episode would air.  And it may be healthier to face the negative possibilities of a war-time deployment head on, but I found solace in pushing those thoughts from my mind.  Grey's kept them on the surface at all times.

I still follow the show on Wikipedia like some girl who stalks her ex-boyfriend on Facebook but makes no effort to reconcile.  Considering all the story lines based on PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) from last season finale's carnage, I know I made the right decision.  Watching people have panic attacks as they remember being two steps away from death is not my idea of entertainment.  Television is supposed to take you away from your everyday life into a world where everything is more dramatic and therefore less realistic...not remind you some degree of these events could be your fate as well.

So I have yet to replace Grey's Anatomy on my TV schedule.  I tried Private Practice (a Grey's spinoff) but was put off by the main character's consistent infidelity.  Off the Map (another medical drama by Shonda Rhimes) seems promising but is over for the season.  Taking place in the middle of a South American jungle, that show has just the right amount of fantasy to prevent me from dwelling on the traumas.

My Husband hooked me on a few shows I never would have tuned into otherwise...Sons of Anarchy and Archer on FX and the station's newest original, a black comedy starring Elijah Wood called Wilfred (starts June 23).  I stopped watching The Biggest Loser (I found it to be too much about winning the game and not enough about losing weight and changing one's life in recent seasons) but am still a fan of ABC's Castle, Fox's Bones and the one-two comedy punch of Modern Family and Cougar Town.

I find myself becoming a fan of House after getting caught up watching reruns on USA Network.  Next season I'm gonna make a real effort for Community (I regretfully skipped it as it used to be on opposite Bones) and some of the promising pilots coming on this fall.

But I don't think I'll ever stop missing Grey's Anatomy.   

In-Lawlessness

My in-laws have discovered Skype.  I suggest you purchase stock.

Yesterday in our Mother's Day Skype session, My Husband and I were making nice with his mom, dad and two oldest brothers.  Holden (blond, handsome, angry, oldest) behaved himself very well.   Dorian (dark, artistic, stubborn, middlest) sat down, grinned at us and I and asked if I was menstruating.  He found this to be a clever, funny way to see if I was pregnant yet. 

I gaped, My Husband's mother gave Dorian a dirty look and repeated a number of times that "No one here talks about that; we don't discuss that at all," and My Husband shook his head and said told his brother that's a completely inappropriate thing to say.   Dorian said, "I'm joking," and My Husband replied, "It doesn't matter; that's so over the line."   Dorian huffed, "Fine then," and left.   We didn't see him again the rest of the conversation.

My mother-in-law continued to assure us they never discuss my fertility, which obviously means they do but she knows we find it to be a private topic unfit for general family conversation.  She and Holden talk about it on a regular basis...when My Husband left for Iraq she went fishing for information and told me over the phone they'd been trying to figure out when my cycle was to see if it was plausible My Husband knocked me up before deploying.  My reaction was one of alarm and she hasn't brought it up since.

The conversation went on pretty normally from there.  Afterward My Husband told me he was not happy with Dorian's remarks or the fact he's likely to stew about My Husband's sharp response and add it to his running list of Life Grievances.  Dorian's a grudgey sort.

For some reason the amount of serotonin in my brain was higher than usual and I was able to look at the bright side of this conversation: My Husband's mother was taking pains to keep us happy.  If the same sort of thing had happened a few years ago, she would have told My Husband he was overreacting and that Dorian didn't mean anything by it.  The look she gave him and the lack of reprimand toward us was a pretty positive step.  I think she's starting to realize her best bet for happily married children and pretty, polite, well-adjusted grandchildren is My Husband and me.

I've told you before Holden and Dorian have their own issues and show no signs of getting married in the next few years.  The only daughter, India, has a husband and a little girl but she bears the brunt of the family's judgement.  Everything from her parenting skills to her career to her finances comes under fire.  And her daughter gets a bit more bratty every day.  Comes from being the sole grandchild/niece of a very possessive family.

So it seems My Husband's mother has finally placed her bet on the right team, so to speak, and wants to stay on our good side.  As I'm sure there will be more juvenile behavior from his siblings in the future, I hope it stays that way. 

My Duke & Duchess of Cambridge

http://www.zimbio.com/

Since My Husband's been in the field, I've been utilizing our Cox Cable On Demand feature to catch up on all the royal wedding stuff I've ignored or missed in the past few months.  There's been a few documentaries about Princess Diana and the princes growing up and the rest of the royal family that are just my style...told in a chatty, gossipy way or full of well done reenactments.

My enthusiasm for Prince William and Princess Catherine's wedding has raised a few eyebrows among my acquaintances and My Husband's men and friends.  In watching all my little television specials, I've come to the conclusion that besides my feelings about Diana and William from childhood, I respect and admire Catherine because I see a lot of my own life reflected in hers.

Now of course I grimace at all the descriptions of Catherine as being a "middle class" girl, because her parents are millionaires.  And British millionaires, because of the exchange rate, are like double American millionaires.  So obviously she's had much more posh opportunities than I have and grew up in aristocratic circles even if she's not a blue-blood herself.

But in learning more about the couple's relationship through university and after graduation, I see more similarities than I expected.  Catherine helped William deal with the pressure of his studies and his future obligations.  I can't tell you how many times I was on the phone with My Husband while he was at West Point talking him through poor test scores or acceptance jitters.

Catherine faced ingratiating herself into one of the most insular families (known in the U.K. as "The Firm") in the world.  William is their "golden boy," their hope for the future and their pride and joy.  My Husband has three brother and one sister...three older and one younger sibling total. 

His younger brother is very similar to Prince Harry...buoyant, talented and light-hearted.  His oldest brother, 33, has had numerous troubles with alcohol and anger management.  He hasn't had a serious girlfriend in years and moved out of his parents house about two years ago.  My Husband's sister, 31, married a man most of the family hates and lives 1,000 miles from her mother in Chicago...she becomes less of a favorite every day.  Her "Irish twin," my Husband's other older brother (age 30), is temperamental and stubborn...he's never had a serious girlfriend and also moved out of the family home about two years ago.

My Husband is his parents' favorite child...he has a successful career, is handsome and fit and as an active army officer an American hero.  I had a terrible time getting accepted by his siblings and his mother.  I think now they were uncertain ANYONE could possibly be good enough for him, especially some girl he met away from home.  His sister specifically treated me very poorly in the beginning, and his mother scrutinized my every move.  Not nearly like having the Queen of England watch your table manners, but it sure felt that way.

After graduation from St. Andrew's, William went into training to become a military-grade rescue helicopter pilot and Catherine went home to her parents and worked for their party-planning company (completely putting to the side her degree in Art History).  I graduated a year ahead of My Husband and didn't attempt to find work out of the Northeast so I could support him and see him through his final year at West Point.

So Catherine appeared to be treading water for a few years as William felt out his career aspirations.  She was not working steadily or starting a family as her friends and peers were.  As my friends from college embarked on graduate school or New York, Boston and Los Angeles to further their careers I worked for my father in his office.  I accepted a job at a local theme park ringing register in a food court; I was a cater-waiter on weekends and a proofreader for two years for a small-time struggling greeting card distributor (all at the same time).  Every news bureau, paper and television station I looked for work at denied my application.  Every magazine I sent a story to rejected me.  After My Husband graduated and went on to his first level of training, I remained in my parents home waiting to see were we would end up...physically and romantically.

I can't imagine the pressure Catherine must have felt from her parents, even subconsciously, not to screw up her relationship with the prince.  My parents cautioned me as well in my behavior as a girlfriend...I wasn't to be as difficult as I usually was, or as demanding, or as selfish.  My father purchased me a book, the first gift he personally picked out for me since I was a child, about West Point so that I could be a better girlfriend to a cadet.  When My Husband told my father he was going to propose to me, my father said, "Are you sure?"  When My Husband said yes, my father asked him to wait until after his graduation from West Point...after all, that event should be completely about him and I shouldn't be given the opportunity to steal the spotlight.

And then when Catherine and William finally began to live together on a remote island where William trained, Catherine gave up everything to be with him...her proximity to the hustle and bustle of London, her friends, her family and her job.  She did the laundry and cooked his meals.  Just like me.

I can't leave out the actual ceremony.  I don't have any real idea of the process of planning a royal wedding attended by 600 and watched on television by 2 BILLION, but I remember a shadow of that pressure in planning our wedding.

I tiptoed around my sisters' jealousy and indifference, my parents' requirements and my future-in-laws' tantrums (my mother-in-law asked if a ceremony at my childhood Lutheran church would actually count in the Catholic church).  I sacrificed personal preference in order to not appear wasteful or wanton and spent hours settling family grievances brought to a head by the approaching ceremony.  As Catherine walked down the aisle in Westminster Abbey trying not to hyperventilate, I felt for her.

Then I watched William call her "babe," and Catherine ask him if he was happy I saw myself and My Husband.  He's always been my rock and no matter what drama swirls around us he's never once faltered.  His eyes were on mine that day at the altar; as far as he was concerned the 200 people in the pews did not exist.  And I like to think William was the same way with his Catherine.

I think I love them both because I love myself and My Husband.  I want all four of us to succeed and flourish despite the dangers of occupation and the familial pressure.  I want us all to have beautiful, healthy babies who grow to define the term "well-adjusted."  I want the royal couple to live happily ever after so passionately because I want My Husband and I to live happily ever after.

I'm sorry if my affection for the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge seems inappropriate considering we do not know (and probably will never know) each other personally.  But I look to them as proof no matter what your lifestyle or the lifestyle that's been thrust upon you because of the person you fell in love with, love is possible.  And it makes everything worthwhile.

Leg Cramp Cure: You Won't Believe This One

I had really terrible leg cramps as a kid.  Pulsing, wrenching pain in every muscle from my toes to my butt.  They mostly happened at night (or rather, I mostly noticed them at night) and often woke me from a sound sleep and kept me up for hours.

My mother called them growing pains.  That's probably true...of course, I'm sure I didn't drink the necessary water to keep myself hydrated for so active a lifestyle.

Every now and then when I lay down at night these cramps comes back.  I'm certainly done growing, so the only thing I can think of is dehydration or overworking the muscles at the gym.  Since my urine is pale (how's that for Blogger TMI?) and I'm cutting down on the caffeine, I guess it's just muscle pain from working out.

That, in itself, is so stupid.  Not only do I have to suffer through pain in the process of working out, now I have it later on.  For what purpose?  As a physical reminder that I go to the gym every day?  Boooo to pain.

As I lay in bed last night attempting to stretch my aching muscles, I remembered an old wives' tale about a bar of soap under the sheets to make leg cramps go away.  No one knows why this works, but it's by far the most successful wacky non-medical cure I've read about.

So I did it.  Unwrapped my Dial bar and slipped it under the blankets toward the foot of the bad.  I settled in with my book (which I'd been unable to concentrate on before), and about 10 minutes later my palpable pain was down to a dull uncomfortableness.  This this REALLY works.  It's so weird.  I'm still a little twinge-y and achy today, but I'd say 90% of my pain is just gone.

I wonder why this is so potent.  Is it because soaps are scented in a way that makes us feel clean and calm?  This could lower blood pressure and loosens the tense muscles.  I honestly have no clue.

Check it out.  It would have saved me a whole lotta hurt as a kid.

Weight Loss

This is the most I've weighed in my entire life.  I'm 5'8" and 175lbs (translates to 175cm and 79kg).  As a child and a teen I was very slim and slight...when I hit puberty I immediately had a growth spurt and started keeping weight on.  I'd say I'm most comfortable around 145lbs (66kg); I feel good without losing the breast size I've become accustomed to.

Luckily I carry my poundage pretty well and people are always surprised when I tell them what I weigh.  Still, I can't help but notice the stretch marks in the mirror and the belly that wasn't there once upon a time.

So it's back to the gym: we've got that wedding in North Carolina at the end of the month and I've got to drop some of this fat before we get there.  My motives are not entirely pure: yes, I want to lose this weight so when I do get pregnant I won't be tipping the scales at 200lbs (91kg) and yes I need to get to a healthier BMI but I also just don't like myself this heavy.

I don't feel confident; I don't feel sexy.  I feel fat.

And of course I keep telling myself that's not the most important thing and it's all about feeling good and being healthy blah blah blah.  But I've grown up as a girl in America, so that means I care about my weight.  It's the only math that's really ever mattered to me.

God, that's vain.

Anyway, I love food and I'm unwilling to give up bread.  So instead of giving up food I'm attempting to eat more of it...more vegetables, more fruit, more whole grains, etc.  With that comes more exercise...from what I can tell, I need to get to about 2 hours a day, 5 days a week.  I have time for that, of course.  I just need to get my lazy ass out of bed.

It's just so hard.  My weight makes me huff and puff through exercise classes to the point where I was considering what excuses I'd give should anyone comment on my inability to keep up. 

Mono.  Miscarriage.  Hear that?  I'd rather tell people I've just lost a baby than admit I'm lazy and fat.  That's just messed up.  Like the people at the gym care if I'm an athlete or not.  It's a gym, right?  It's there for people to get healthy.

So I'm trying.  I'm floundering, but I'm trying.  And I have 4 weeks to do it in, so we'll have to wait and see.

Osama bin Laden is Still Dead

Buoy and I are exhausted.  Last night while perusing the Internet about 9pm Central Time, I read on my homepage (CNN.com) the president was going to make a very important announcement from the White House in about a half an hour.

Now, any Army wife will tell you when the president makes an unscheduled announcement late night on a Sunday, it's usually a bad thing.  Well, it may not be a "bad" thing, but it's definitely something that directly affects you.  My Husband and I waited patiently for the president's speech and we speculated what this "dramatic national security event having nothing to do with Libya," as Wolf Blitzer said, could be.  I thought Joe Biden died and that's why so many people had to be notified before Mr. Obama could come on the air.

 As the specified time for the announcement came and went, the producers at CNN decided to break the news the president would later elaborate on...Osama bin Laden was dead.  A group of special ops and/or Navy SEALS (I've heard both) entered the mansion where he's been hiding for what may have been years and shot it up for about 40 minutes.  A woman attempted to shield bin Laden and was shot.  His 19-year-old-son was shot.  Apparently the soldiers offered bin Laden a chance to surrender; he refused and opened fire with an automatic weapon (this I'm not entirely sure of...I wouldn't fault the soldiers for shooting an unarmed fugitive, but I know why they're saying it if it's not true).  The soldiers shot him at least once in the head.

They recovered his body after another woman at the compound concurred it was bin Laden.  Taking it to a US ship, they proceeded to positively confirm his identity with DNA (Huh.  Kinda wish police stations had that kind of technology for rape kits).  Osama bin Laden was then given a "proper Muslim burial at sea."  I don't know about that part either, but at this point I'm pleased enough with the success of the mission and the lack of American casualties that I don't care about white lies like the government keeping a terrorist's body.

I wept with relief as I watched people gather in front of the White House to celebrate.  I texted almost everyone in my phone contacts and made My Husband call his mom.  I wanted to shout the news from our balcony; I wanted to knock on every door in the building.  I like the fact that so many of my peers heard the news first from me.  It stems from some journalistic spark still burning inside me, I guess.

And so the conversation turns to what will come next.  I'm sure terrorism will continue...in fact I think it will get worse before it gets better.  But considering the amount of information the soldiers recovered from the compound (if it was safe enough to hide bin Laden just think about the records kept there as well) and the rage stemming from the murder of their leader, I hope people will get sloppy enough to get caught.

I'm trying not to get too excited, but this could mean the end of our deployments.  No Afghanistan...please God, no Afghanistan.

But life continues.  My Husband left about 3am for a week of overnight field exercises.  May and June are full of field exercises for us.  He'll have weekends off, for what that's worth. 

We stayed up all night last night watching the coverage of bin Laden's death.  The celebrations reminded me of some of the video from September 11 when Islamic fundamentalists passed out candy in the streets, danced, sang and shouted with joy at our destruction.  Life is very strange right about now.

So Buoy and I spent today schlepping around after I got home from my shift at the shelter, attempting to recover from an exceptionally emotional weekend.  I've never cried so much about complete strangers, both good and evil events, in my entire life. 

OSAMA BIN LADEN IS DEAD

I have no words of my own so I'll have to give you words belonging to others. 

Osama bin Laden, the leader and symbol of Al-Qaeda, is dead. 

A small, elite United States CIA operation killed him during a firefight in a mansion outside of Islamabad, Pakistan.

He's dead.  The leader of those who scarred my existence and destined my marriage for separation is dead.  It's a justice I never thought would come to pass.  As CNN broadcasted the Breaking News the president would speak on an important event in United States security over an hour ago I never dreamed it was this.

Oh God in Heaven.  Oh gracious Father.  I can't speak the words I know I should be able to express. 

My Husband says this must be why General David Petraeus has been given the job as the head of the CIA.  He did this; he arranged this.  I want to name my first son after him.

Pakistan knew.  Of course they knew.  But it doesn't matter now.  I don't care.  Osama bin Laden is dead.  It's over.  Please God, let it be over for us all.

Tell everyone you know.  Wake up your children, shout it from your windows.  I haven't stopped crying since I heard the news. 

Osama bin Laden is dead!

Post-Pill

So it's been about 30 days since I took myself off birth control in our first round of attempts to get pregnant.  According to everything I've charted in the months before this, I was due for my period on Friday the 22.  Since it's been a no show, My Husband and I decided to take a test and see if we are going to have a baby.

After a very busy day (including an FRG meeting, for which I am the new co-leader), we came home and I took a First Response (6 days before your missed period, it says!).  After three minutes of waiting, our microwave timer dinged and we took a look at the results.  Two pink lines: pregnant.  One pink line: not pregnant.

One pink line.  I am not pregnant.

Now, I didn't actually want to get pregnant in April.  Nine months from April is December, which would mean a child in the year 2011.  Even though 2012 is only a month away from then, for some reason I feel more comfortable with that timetable.

But still, it would have been a relief to know I could get pregnant.  I have no reason to suspect I'll have trouble conceiving...my mother, my aunt and both grandmothers had no problems.  I'm healthy, young, I have been taking my prenatals for months and my hips are pretty ridiculous.

And My Husband has been so sweet and excited about this.  He mentions being pregnant without any prodding, he's comfortable talking about our future son or daughter and asked me to take the pregnancy test when we were both home so he could know the results immediately.

So I'm slightly disappointed.  I don't think we have a good shot at conceiving in May since My Husband will be in the field Monday-Friday and only come home on weekends.  It may be good to give myself a few months to get my body back on track and figure out how my system reacts without the added hormones.

I wonder if every woman is just a little disappointed at a negative pregnancy test, even if it's the last thing you want in the world.  It makes sense that our brains would be hardwired to procreate.

So the adventure continues.