It's beginning to look a lot like...

CHRISTMAS!

I can't believe it's only a week away!  Sorry for the Christmas posts overload, but I am so excited for the holiday this year.  My family has grown considerably over the last couple of years and I am so thankful for all of them.  Everyone will be together this year, and I can't wait to get to spend time with my parents, all of my siblings, their spouses and babies, extended family, all of my new family, and our friends.

We've been so busy lately, but we managed to finish our holiday decorating.  It's not much, but it's festive enough.

K indulged me this year and got us some lights to put on our balcony.  Here he is with the outside lights...

And we put up some colored lights inside our living room window...

Our tree is a little pathetic, but we don't have many decorations.  Everything we do have is just a hodgepodge of arts and crafts leftovers, mismatched ornaments from who knows where, and Christmas cards (the tree came with lights and pine cones):

Yes, our tree topper is a ribbon, but that's okay with us.  Our tree has charm, if not much else.

In a few days K and I are headed back to California to spend the holidays in a whirlwind of friends and family.  We are so excited to see everyone!  Until then, happy holidays!

Christmas Cards

It looks like my prayers were not answered, because less than 12 hours after I sent up my prayers to the cold/flu gods, I was reduced to an achy, coughing, snot-filled, germ bag.  I guess that's what you get for trying to thwart their plans.  But it did allow me plenty of time to lie around on the couch and finish our Christmas cards.

This year I decided to make our Christmas cards myself.  It was quite a project, but I'm really happy with the way they turned all turned out.  I bought blank folded cards and different embellishments from Michael's and made whatever I could come up with.  I ended up with a bunch of different designs...

Close-ups on two of my favorites:

Finally finished!

And while we're on the subject of Christmas cards, I want to share with all of you a REALLY easy way to show our troops a little love for the holidays.  Xerox is sponsoring a program called "Let's Say Thanks" that allows you to pick out a hand-drawn card and a message to go inside, and they will print and send the card to one of our deployed troops for FREE.  

All you have to do is go to their website, pick the card, enter your name, pick a message and hit send.  It's that easy.  I did it and it really only takes about 20 seconds.  You can't pick who will receive it, but it would be great if every service member who is deployed could receive one, right?

Here is a link to the site: www.letssaythanks.com

We all know that our deployed troops and their families sacrifice a lot, especially during the holidays when they can't always be together.  So show them a little love and then pass it on!  Thank you!

Here I Am

A lot has been going on this week, so I haven't been able to make a proper post, but I'm here now.  Last weekend was K's squadron Christmas party.  It was slightly lame, as usual, which leaves me wondering... Are Christmas parties for work ever really fun???  If someone out there has been to one, let me know that there is hope.  My company's party was the same night, so we were unable to attend both, but word on the street is that it was lame as well.  I didn't take any pictures... wasn't worth it.

Aside from that, I have been desperately trying to finish our Christmas cards and get them mailed, and I'm almost done.  (More on the cards later.)  I also have massage therapy twice a week to try and work out those muscles in my back.  You're probably thinking "No fair!  I want massages twice a week!"  But you're wrong.  This isn't a nice, relaxing massage... it might be torture.  It is painful and cleaning the house is more relaxing than this so-called "massage." 

K has also been sick this week and I have been avoiding his germs like he has the plague.  I don't think it's working because I started to feel that little tickle in my throat last night.  I immediately downed some Emergen-C and gargled with a Listerine/Peroxide mix to kill whatever germies are trying to take root, but I don't think it's working.  My throat has been swollen all day.  I'm praying to the cold/flu gods that they hold off a little longer.  I CAN'T, CAN'T, CAN'T get sick.  Not now.  Not next week either.  After that, I'll gladly take my yearly dose of sniffles, sore throat, coughing, and phlegm.  But next week we are going home and I really do not want to be sick.  Especially because there will be babies around.  And it will be a serious damper on my good time.

K has work this weekend, and my plans are to do nothing, so hopefully there will be some new posts over the weekend.  I have some things I want to share with all of you, so come back!

Panic Attack

Today something really scary happened to me.  I didn't think I would react the way I did, but I was scared and I couldn't control what happened.

I have what are called Trigger Points, which are basically muscle spasms except they don't go away.  They're like little balls of muscle that won't ever relax and are extremely uncomfortable.  My doctor wanted me to get an MRI done of my neck and lower back just to make sure nothing was going on with my spine that could cause these.  He's pretty sure there's nothing wrong, but he wanted MRI's just to be 100%.

If you haven't had an MRI done before, I'll tell you what it feels like:  you are crammed into a tube so small you can't move your arms and then a jackhammer goes off next to your head for 15-20 minutes.  I've had MRI's done when I started having migraines, and I didn't particularly like them, but I got through it.  This one was different.  The machine was a lot smaller, and I had to be in there for 40 minutes because I was getting two tests done.  The first test was on my neck and I was nervous, but I was able to talk myself through it.  My legs were hanging out and I was only in up to mid-thigh.

But then the second test on my lower back started, and without warning I was going further into the tube and it got tighter.  I immediately panicked.  My palms are sweating just thinking about it.  I pushed the emergency button that they have you hold in case you freak out.  I thought pushing the button would immediately start pulling me out, but it didn't, and that's when I seriously freaked.  I panicked and started flailing around on the bed, kicking my legs and trying to throw my arms out, but I was trapped.  I know it only lasted about 5 seconds before the MRI techs rushed into the room and got me out, but it felt like I was going to die in there.  I was convinced I would stop breathing and the machine would tighten itself on me until I was squeezed to death.

The ladies got me out quickly and calmed me down, but I did have a few minutes of hysteric crying before I could even say anything.  Eventually I calmed down enough to try again, and one of the ladies offered to stand in the room and hold onto my leg which helped me get through it.  I was shaking and crying through the whole thing, but I did it.

I guess you can't know you are claustrophobic until you are trapped inside of something, which doesn't usually happen in everyday life.  I didn't know I was going to react the way I did, and after I cried from panicking, I cried from embarrassment.  I don't know why it effected me the way it did - there was a big huge room right outside that machine, and I certainly wasn't trapped.  It makes me wonder about fear, and what it is in our brains that make us have irrational fears... I'm sure it has to do with our survival instincts.  When the test started, I knew in my entire being that I was fine.  There was nothing to fear.  But my mind was convinced I was trapped.  Stuck.  Imprisoned.  I don't like the fact that I panicked.  I wish I could have controlled myself.  I'm confused by it all, and I don't know what to make of it.  I do know that I won't have an MRI done again.  But just in case, I did some research and apparently there are open-sided MRI machines that won't trap you.

Luckily, K was waiting for me in the lobby, and as soon as he saw my tear-streaked face he just hugged me and let me finish my crying.  He knew it was hard for me and the happy ending to everything was that he took me out for ice cream afterwards.

Grown-Ups

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about growing up.  Not the process, but the lives that we live now as grown-ups.  We're adults now.  We pay rent, drive cars that we paid for, have life insurance policies.  Crazy. 

But what amazes me even more, is what we do as adults.  I have friends and people who I went to high school with that are doing some amazing things.  Their educations vary widely.  They have degrees in foreign languages, politics, education, and social work.  You name it, one of them has it.  Some are pursuing Master's degrees and PhD's in things that I know NOTHING about.  Some have already finished their PhD work.  They work with the homeless, live in foreign countries (by themselves!), have beautiful, happy children, save lives and fight fires, teach children here in the U.S. and abroad, fly airplanes (some even OWN airplanes), serve their country, manage businesses, and just generally inspire me.

Thanks to the invention of Facebook, I am still somewhat in touch with the lives of most of the people I went to kindergarten and elementary school with.  These are people that I've grown up with and have known since our biggest worry was what game to play at recess (and trust me, there were some serious debates).  I've known them for almost their entire lives, and yet they take paths that I never would have imagined for them.  When we were younger, I never would have thought to ask "What do you want to do with your life?"  Even though I've known them for so long, the paths they have taken to find their happiness still surprise me.  And I don't mean in a bad way, just that for some of them, I never would have guessed that they would find their happiness in what they chose to pursue.  And for others, they are pursuing goals that they seemed destined for since birth.  (This isn't meant to serve as a judgement... just an observation.)

Either way, I'm proud of them.  I'm proud of all of us for the adults we have become and all of the good we will continue to do.  We might be just getting our feet on the ground, but the world had better watch out for us.

You Are Not Forgotten

At every formal military ceremony, there is an empty chair at an empty table.  It is placed there to honor the Prisoners of War and Missing in Action service members who are not with us.  It breaks my heart to see this table.  Below is a picture of the empty table, and a transcription of the plaque.

This table is our way of symbolizing the fact that members of our

profession of arms are missing from our midst.  They are commonly 

called P.O.W./M.I.A., we call them "Brother."  They are unable to be

with us this evening because of their incarceration, so tonight we

think of them.

The table -- set for one is small -- to show the frailty of one

prisoner alone against his oppressors.

Remember.

The table cloth is white -- symbolizing the purity of their

intentions to respond to their country's call to arms.

Remember.

The single rose displayed in a vase reminds us of the families and loved

ones of our comrades-in-arms who keep the faith awaiting their return.

Remember.

The red ribbon tied so prominently on the vase is reminiscent of the

red ribbon worn on the lapels and breasts of thousands who bear

witness to their unyielding determination to demand a proper

accounting for our missing.

Remember.

A slice of lemon is on the bread plate to remind us of their bitter

fate.

Remember.

There is salt upon the bread plate symbolic of the family's tears as

they wait.

Remember.

The glass is inverted -- they cannot toast with us today.

Remember.

The chair -- The chair is empty -- They are not here --

Remember.

Remember -- all of you who have served with them and called them

comrades.  Who depended upon their might and aid, and relied upon them.

Remember.  For surely, they have not forgotten you.

Wear Sunscreen and Keep the Faith

Last night was K's graduation from Airman Leadership School.  It is a six-week course that every enlisted person in the Air Force must go through in order to become a Staff Sergeant.  It's difficult to convey the importance of this to anyone without military experience, but basically, it's a big deal.  Staff Sergeant is the first rank you have to test for (in the Air Force... the other services all do promotions their own way) and you get one chance a year to take that test.  Other things factor in, like job performance and decorations (medals and awards).  Testing is in May, the promotions list is released in August, and if you are on the list you will be promoted sometime within the next twelve months depending on how high you are on the list.  But before you can officially be promoted you have to go through ALS.

ALS is a six-week course in which you are bombarded with coursework, volunteering, projects, physical training, marching, study groups every weekend, hours of homework, etc.  If you don't have time management skills, you'll sink, but the point (and there's always a point) is to teach you time management and how to be an effective leader in the Air Force.  They learn a million different things about the Air Force, it's history, rules and regulations, and supervisor duties.  It's tough for the students and their families because you don't get to see other much.  K would leave at 6:30, come home at 5:30, eat whatever dinner I would made him, then disappear into the office to do homework until 9 or later.  The only good thing about it was that we got up at the same time in the morning so we got to have breakfast together every day.  I'm going to miss that when he's back on his regular work schedule.

The graduation is a big, traditional ceremony and they really honor the graduates in order to emphasize their accomplishment.  All of the supervisors of the graduates are there and everyone is dressed in their formal uniforms.  It's really an amazing thing to see Squadron Commanders and Chiefs genuinely proud of their Airmen.  (I've been to many military ceremonies, and they rarely seem genuinely proud.  I'm sure they are, but it's more like they're just there for the photo op.)  During the final speech of the night, one of the Wing Commanders got up and shared what are, in his experience, the two most important parts of being a leader:  wear sunscreen and keep the faith.  He said you don't get to be as good-looking as he does without wearing sunscreen.  And you can't be a good leader without keeping the faith, because every day our country is keeping their faith in us.  Can't argue with that.

Here is some photo evidence that he did in fact graduate.  And sorry about picture quality... I took my crappy camera, and the lighting was dim.

K receiving his diploma:

Some more pictures from the dinner/ceremony:

Classmates and their instuctor

Fun facts

Totally cheesy, but I love this one.

P.S:  I just need to take a moment to say how unbelievably proud I am of my husband.  When we were younger, I always knew that he was going to join the Air Force.  His plan for his life was already set when I met him 9th grade.  He has always taken his commitment seriously and he is a damn good Airman.  Before we went into the graduation, the national anthem came on over the loudspeakers on base, and as he came to attention and saluted our nation's flag, I stood behind him and had tears in my eyes for how proud I am of him.  I feel that he is doing something truly honorable, just like the Airmen that were standing next to him, and every person who has ever served our country.  He wears that uniform with respect and honors what it stands for.  I've worn that same uniform and the first time I put it on, I almost felt unworthy.  (I had someone screaming in my face, so I didn't have time to stop and truly take in the moment, but I still remember the feeling.)  I know he is going to be a truly amazing Staff Sergeant and a great leader.  Congratulations and good luck babe!

Changes

The more I thought about it, I decided that the previous title of my blog wasn't really portraying what I'm trying to do here.  The point of this was to really highlight all those things that are making my life a happy life.  Whether it is adventures with my husband, hobbies, or whatever else I come up with.  So, I changed the title and url, because well, it's my blog and I can do that.

Arts and Crafts

One of my hobbies is making things for our home.  K refers to this as "arts and crafts" which I think sounds like something you do at summer camp with popsicle sticks and glue.  I think I'm a little more advanced than that and I refer to it as "do-it-yourself decoration."  Christmas is the perfect time for d.i.y. decoration and I have been engrossed in creating all kinds of things to decorate our home.  The living room has pretty much been taken over.  K sighs every time he wants to sit down and watch tv because the couch is usually covered in paper, ribbon, scissors, containers of glue, and any other craft supply you can think of.  (In my defense, he has taken over the office with his schoolwork, computer stuff, and music... I don't even know what he does in there.)

The first project I created for the holidays was this wreath.  It is a floral ring with a tinsel garland attached.  It's really simple, all you need a is a glue-gun to attach the tinsel to the floral ring.

Front

Back

The second project, and the one I'm most proud of, is our advent calendars.  We never had advent calendars when I was growing up, but a few of my friends had them and I always thought I was missing out on something.  So I decided to make us some of our own this year.  These are also made on floral rings.  I wrapped the rings in red wrapping paper first, and then attached small metal favor tins.  The tins have Christmas-y paper that I cut out and popped into the lids, and then put stickers on each one to mark the day.  They turned out great and we love opening them together every day.  I feel like we just hung them up and we're already on day 7!

K's calendar:

close up

My calendar:

love the little gingerbread men!

The final product!

Birthday Celebration

I am really bad at keeping surprises a surprise.  Especially when I've planned the surprise.  I just get too excited and can't hold it in.  Which is what I did with K's birthday surprise because I just HAD to tell him.  So K's big birthday surprise wasn't much of a surprise, but on Saturday night we had an amazing time celebrating his birthday properly.  (And by properly, I mean that there were no screaming cupcakes or leather steak.)

I planned us a night on the town with dinner at a Japanese restaurant called Japonais (and is pronounced "Japanese" - they're really thinking outside the box) and then to see comedian Ron White performing at the Mirage.

All dressed up and ready to go...

Japonais was AMAZING.  The food was delicious and the restaurant itself is beautiful (you can see some pictures of the restaurant at their website, it's stunning).  We ate Lobster Spring Rolls, Miso Soup, Cashew Chicken, Veggie Fried Rice, and Yellowtail Scallion Rolls (which K declared he had to have because he didn't know what yellowtail scallion was, but it sounded delicious... and it was).  I would have taken some pictures of our food, but it was a fancy place and we were trying to fit in.

After dinner we went to watch Ron White.  If you're not familiar with him, you can check out his website here.  He's in the same genre of comedy as Bill Engvall and Jeff Foxworthy.  He is famous for drinking Scotch, smoking cigars, and cussing up a storm while performing.  K and I both like him and we were very excited.  He had us cracking up the whole time and my cheeks hurt from laughing non-stop for two hours.  At one point in the show, he was mid-joke when he looked to the side of the stage and seemed distracted.  He told us he was watching his dogs wrestle, and then he called out two adorable French bulldogs that continued to wrestle behind him for a few minutes, completely oblivious to the hundreds of people watching them.  This is the theater before the show (we were towards the back, but it was a small theater, so we still felt close):

K didn't celebrate his birthday much when he was a kid, so he doesn't have too much to compare it to, but he said it was his second best birthday ever.  I guess I did a good job.  (In case you were wondering, his 21st birthday topped the list.)

K is old.

My husband has officially reached a quarter of a century on this planet.  A QUARTER OF A CENTURY.  (Doesn't that make 25 sound much more substantial?)  Granted, 25 years is not really that old, but this is coming from someone who struggled to leave 21 behind, and is similarly depressed every October when I am forced to become a year older.

Yesterday was K's twenty-fifth birthday, and while the real celebration isn't until Saturday, we had a lovely, quiet evening at home to celebrate his old-ness.  Every year since I was little, my mom would let me have whatever I wanted for my birthday dinner.  When I was little the request was always chicken nuggets (and occasionally still is).  So, I told K I would make him ANYTHING he wanted.

I would live to regret those words.

Of course, he asked for steak.  For most people, cooking/grilling/whatever some steaks is no big deal.  Not the case for this girl.  I have only done it once before and it didn't turn out well (pardon the pun).  I also don't like steak, and therefore have no desire to learn how to cook it.  I'm basically not good at it and and have no desire to get better.  I feel the same way about fixing cars.

Well, I sucked it up anyway (because that is how much I love him) and went to the store in search of the perfect steaks, as well as potatoes (to become mashed potatoes), and a six-pack of K's favorite beer.  I then set out on an adventure to make my husband the perfect steak, mashed potatoes, peas, and salad for his birthday.  A birthday feast.

The result?  Utter failure.  I tried my best, I really did, but the peas were the only thing that turned out as planned.  The mashed potatoes were lumpy, although I blame this on the fact that I don't have a pot that is large enough to properly boil the potatoes, which is a necessary step.  I forgot about the salad altogether.  And the steak... that darn steak.  It tasted like nothing and was cooked enough to be more in the category of leather used for shoes.

But my dear husband... even before he took a bite he told me that everything looked delicious (yeah... just wait till you try it, I thought), and even though it tasted like, well, crap, he assured me that he was grateful.  He promised that he appreciated the effort I went through and that the fact I had tried my best was all that mattered.  He then, very politely and graciously, ate every bite and told me not to worry because everything was just how he liked it.  Both of us knew this was not true, but he knew I was feeling defeated, so I let him carry on with the compliments.  I couldn't force down more than two bites of that leather steak.

Even though K's birthday left me exhausted and on the verge of a meltdown, he still helped me with the dishes and promised to never ask me to make steak again.  At that moment, he couldn't have proven his love to me in a better way.

P.S.  Not everything was a lost cause... I did make some killer red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting.  I burned half of the batch by accidentally setting the cupcake pan on a very hot burner after taking it out of the oven, but I learned that cupcakes whistle when they are burning (or maybe they were screaming at me to save them, but it was too late).

Frankly, my dear...

Sometimes I feel insubstantial.  I moan, cry, and occasionally throw myself on the floor to add some drama.  I don't mean insubstantial in the sense that nobody loves me or that I don't mean anything to anybody, because I know that's not true.  I have family and friends who I know I am important to, as they are to me.  I mean insubstantial in the sense that nothing important seems to happen to me.  My friends seem to live lives worth sharing.  They are exciting, they go places, they have pets, they DO stuff.  And sometimes I fall into the pit of despair that makes me feel my life is not nearly as important as theirs.  They have stories to tell, I have a whole lot of the same.  I usually don't see the pit before I fall into it.  But as soon as I start falling, there I go.

Recently I was deep in the pit, wailing to my husband about the fact that I am 24, working a regular job, not doing much of anything important.  This included tears, sniffling, and me being sprawled out on the bed in my granny panties, big fuzzy socks, and baggy pajamas.  Not exactly a good way to feel like a young, vibrant, twenty-four-year-old with a lifetime full of excitement ahead of her.  So, as I was moaning about this to my husband for the second day in a row about how NOTHING happens to me, in the throes of despair, he turned to me, and in his own gentle way, said to me "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."  Now, those weren't his exact words, but he was essentially telling me to get over it, or do something about it, because my feelings were what was insubstantial.

And he was right.  Mourning my life at 5 pm wasn't solving anything.  One of the wonderful things about my husband is that he sees more in me than I see in myself.  He sees all of the things that I have accomplished, my hobbies, my amazement at our whistling tea kettle, and my love of dancing in socks on the kitchen tile, as being important and exciting.  In fact, things DO happen to me.  I just wasn't paying attention.  There is excitement in every little moment, but sometimes you just have to let yourself feel the excitement instead of expecting it to move you.

So, my solution is this: a blog.  Maybe the only reason my friends lives seem so much more exciting is the fact that they tell me about these things that they do.  Maybe I just need to SAY the things that are happening in my life, list them out, and then I will realize that there's more there than I realize.  I'm on the lookout for the memories that we make, the excitement in the little things, and all the adventure in between.