Years Past: Part VII

In Hawaii when the time came for a baby shower a friend offered to hostess it, but since I knew a total of like 10 women and I wanted to include Joe in it and marines are always looking for some way to have a party our guest list ended up being primarily men. What does a baby shower composed chiefly of marines look like? Well to begin: 2 kegs of beer and some food, they'll figure out their own entertainment after that. Our unconventional shower ended up being really fun, and some of the guys even got us presents (like a lunch cooler wrapped in a beer case box with duct tape...I actually still use the cooler). This day is of particular special memory since this pictured was captured, nearly half of these guys were killed in the same helicopter crash Joe died in.

Years Past: Part VI

In my teen years someone from my circle discovered how to make a tattoo gun with a walkman motor and guitar string, so most if not all of my friends sported at least one homemade tat from someone or other (I know my brother is responsible for some of those horrors). Basically it was like doodling something on a piece of paper only instead it's someones arm...think uneven mess. Think really, really smart.

As a silly 15 year old, one evening I thought it was high time I too had one of these beauty's and proceeded to use a safety pin and pen ink. Not my first run it with safety pins...I'd also used them to pierce my eyebrow on multiple occasions as well as my bellybutton and additional holes in my ears. However after a few rounds of my current safety pin project I decided it wasn't getting it done and I needed the "gun" (if you could call it that) since it was taking soooo long.

It ended up so small and hoopty that I've never really called it real, and until I actually got a tattoo (professionally) if anyone asked if I had one I'd say no, not wanting to show my quarter inch 7 and explain why it's there.

I must say I am grateful that I chose to make it so tiny since it hasn't faded at all and I was so sure it would. I've thought about doing something little to cover it up, and perhaps at some point I will. But for now when I see it I'm reminded of what I was and the work Christ has done in my life, and we all should have some kind of reminder for that.

Years Past: Part V

While living in Hawaii I met some really good friends. With the military you make fast and often lifelong friends, in fact meeting and befriending those who you may otherwise not (in your typical civilian setting), is a normal occurrence.

One of Joe's friends had gotten married about a year after we did so when he brought his lovely bride to live in Hawaii we naturally became quick friends, especially when we found out we were expecting within two weeks of each other. Though there may have been some hardships (like the four of us living together for a month and the two women fairly newly pregnant...and it's not a good combination if you're wondering) we pushed passed it since with both of our husbands deployed for last bits of pregnancy and the births of our children we ended up spending alot of time together.

We did, both of us, have family coming out for the births of our children so we wouldn't be all alone, of course babies don't really care about waiting for people.

So when she called me in the middle of the night a little over three weeks before her due date saying she thought her water may have broken, I told her I'd be over in a minute to take her to the hospital (which is where she was planning her birth). Ah, the days before kids, I literally could be over in a minute, I just rolled out of bed and pulled on some clothes.

Once at the hospital we found that her water had indeed broken and that since she was nearly 37 weeks but not really going into labor they wanted to induce. So that's what happened, there was a fairly awkward moment when the nurse asked if I was going to stay with her. Since neither of us had planned for me to be there she didn't know if I wanted to be there and I didn't know if she wanted me to be there. We got over it quickly though when we looked at each other and knew that I would be staying. And so began her 12 hour or so labor ( I can't remember how long it was, but it seemed to take forever, poor thing).

Part of my duties was to talk to her mom and husband (who was able to call through out) each in turn, and keep them updated. Encourage her to rest while she was able and to get ice chips. We got a good laugh when one of the nurses thought it was me in labor getting my own ice chips.

I had never experience a hospital birth, but I got a front row seat with that one. And while I couldn't recommend a hospital birth based on that experience (so impersonal) I was very honored to be there, I even got to cut the cord for this little bundle.
One year later...We'd stayed in touch, though we both moved when our husband's were killed in the same helicopter crash. I was even able to fly out to visit them for the 1st birthday.Hard to believe it's now been over four years!

Years Past: Part IV

This one is remembered with many smiles, and so I apologize once again to the victim for my continued untimely laughter.

The story is set the summer I turned 18, (except I didn't turned 18 in the summer I already had previous to it). Accompanied with two friends I went gallivanting off in Europe, my traveling companions were Boy A and Girl B (in case they prefer to remain nameless, though I don't think either of them read my blog). These were the days before digital cameras, certainly at least for me, so I have taken a picture of a picture in my scrapbook to share. Also we apparently really didn't think any of us were worth film because I couldn't find one picture with all three of us.

We had spent a few fun weeks in England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland and were ready to test the waters of some non-english speaking countries. So we said good-bye to the white cliffs of Dover and hello to Calais, France. When we got off the fairy we were met with a fairly small town at least in our immediate walking distance and armed only with our much-to-large backpacks and walking shoes we went in search of a place to lay our heads...and searched...and searched, turns out communicating is pretty important when trying to get directions.

We finally stumbled across a sign that had a tent and an arrow on it (hallelujah for picture signs) and followed the arrows all the way to a campground. Though we had no tent we paid for a spot as there were bathrooms and showers. It was the middle of summer and we did not account for the sea wind that Calais has, as in knock-you-down wind, we hoped since we would be close to the ground that none of us would fly away in the night and that our trusty sleeping bags would keep us warm.

As night fell we put all valuables into our sleeping bags pulled our backpacks up close to use as pillows and carefully placed our shoes next to our heads. Taking off her shoes Girl B said "Wouldn't it suck if someone stole our shoes?" I agreed that it certainly would since we had only brought one pair each. We then all stayed awake under the great big sky talking about things that had happened, things we were looking forward to, things we were worried about, and who we were missing back home.

We slept all night on the hard earth with wind whipping around and did not wake up once. To be that young again...or maybe just that tired. When my eyes finally opened the next day I was greeted with a beautiful morning. Boy A had already awakened and was up showering but Girl B continued to snooze away. I noticed then that the shoes she had so carefully arranged were not there anymore and happy to play along I asked her where her shoes were. This sat her up, and she groggily began searching in the very empty space they had been the night before, while I laughed heartily at her joke. Unfortunately when she told me through clenched teeth that it was not a joke but that someone had indeed stolen them, it did not stifle my laughter as I think she was hoping. No, instead it brought a new round of louder uncontrollable laughter, and each time I looked at her would bring on more.

Eventually I was able to control myself, she bought new shoes, and we continued on our way (she did forgive me then too).

And my shoes? Well they made it safely home, and are still occasionally worn.

Years Past: Part III

Many moons ago I was a little girl. Providence loves hearing these long ago stories of when her mom was pint-sized herself. She finds it incredible that I was once her size.As a girl I sported long hair as did all the females in our family. My father loves long hair and he and my mom decided we (the girl side) would all have it if he took care of it. As a child my biggest desire was short hair, but I have learned the beauty of long hair and actually prefer now myself.

I am sure my mother did at times need to brush our hair but I can recall my dad doing it mostly, in fact I can recall him spending most of a night brushing out one of our heads (which had formed a kind-of dreadlock), when everyone else just wanted it cut off to save the trouble. He still brushes my moms hair daily, it's something I remember him doing my entire life.

Wild children we were. Me less so then my twin sisters, but still wild enough that after having my hair brushed out every morning it was a knotty mess by the time I had walked to school (I attended a Private Christian school through 3rd grade, and then home-schooled through graduation). I recall one day having a friend (one with really fine hair that has never seen a tangle) over. I had my hair brushed right before she arrived and as I walked out of my house she said quite amazedly "Your hair is really pretty when it's brushed. I didn't know you did that."

Years Past: Part II

You know how some people like confrontation, or a debate? They like a good argument, something to stir their mind, and yes some just like to do a bang-up job of making others feel stupid.

Well my husband was that way, only instead of words he used his fist's. You might say he was a fighter. He liked a good street fight now and again whether he won or lost it didn't matter, at least not too much.

As he got older I suppose this died a bit, and tragically (to some) marriage seemed to domesticate him even more. However he occasionally would still be on the lookout for a good fight.
This was New Year's 2003, Joe in all his glory was quite proud of the beaut of a shiner (it turned a gorgeous purple after a few hours) and the good 8 or so stitches needed for that lip.

After spending New Years Eve down in Waikiki, striking midnight while we were on the beach, and around town till the wee hours of the morning, we were walking along preparing to figure a way back to the other side of the island for our group which though dwindled down from the beginning of the night still included quite a few. Up ahead there seemed to be a disturbance of some sort and as we got closer it was apparent that a number of young men were calling out to some young women. While the ladies did not appear to speak english it seemed as though they were trying to move on. Two of the girls were able to speed up and proceed on course but one of their group was physically restrained by one of the young men. Joe told the guy to let her go, which thankfully he did, but Joe continued to scold (the nicest way I can put it) him. As this escalated more and more of each group became involved until someone punched Joe in the back of the head and it turned into a good scramble. Gina and myself, the only two women of our group and both pregnant at the time, tried to stay out of the way as much as possible and let it run it's course, which it did ending with that group of boys taking off and leaving our group with many lumps and bruises. I only hope ours inflicted as many as were received.

Years Past: Part I

Once upon a time not so long ago I owned a Rhodesian Ridgeback, named Ajax. He was my first dog, and he was beautiful. We'll save how I got him and why I don't have him anymore for another time. Today I wish to tell the story of his move from Hawaii to California.

Moving from Hawaii was very hard for me. I had a five month old baby and Joe had died about a month previous, I now needed to pack up my previous life of a wife excitedly preparing for her husbands return, to a new life, a grieving widow and new mother. Honestly I don't remember much of that transition, but Ajax's move broke through the fog and is a pretty clear memory.

Ajax was 2 when Joe died and had never been crated, I had about a week to try to crate train him for the airplane trip he would need to take to California for our move. In that week I was able to get him to reach his head in the crate for a treat -that's it- and even that was done with caution. It was suggested that I have him sedated for the plane ride but when I asked a vet about it they suggested giving benadryl.

The morning of the trip I gave Ajax his benadryl and then encouraged him into the crate while it was in the car, wonder of wonders he didn't give much of a struggle (probably searching for that treat). With him in the crate we were easily able to load the rest of our luggage and proceed to the airport, with a big load off my mind.

However once at the airport when I was checking him in I discovered much to my horror that I would need to take him out while the crate was inspected. Putting a 120lb dog back in was a good 15 minute chore which included myself, my sister Ivanna, and the airport crate inspector guy. Finally we got him in, Mr. Crate Inspector closed the door on the crate and once again I felt a load off, although I was hot, sweaty and covered in dog hair, Ajax was set.

When settled into our seats on the plane I surprised to hear my name being paged, and when I approached one of the Flight Attendants I was told it was about my dog and they needed me. So I was ushered off the plane down some stairs and once on the tarmac I was met with a golf cart type vehicle which sped me away.

Apparently while they were loading Ajax into the plane his door sprung open (I maintain Mr. Crate Inspector had failed to latch it) he leaped out and began wildly running around on the tarmac while workers where frantically chasing him.

Since planes couldn't land or take off while there was a dog on the loose they called me down to see what I could do. Thankfully he came as soon as he saw me but getting him into the crate was even harder the third time around. By the time he was secured I was in tears and had scratches, bruises, and even more dog hair all over my body. I was emotionally and physically spent and wanted to strangle the vet who failed to mention that there was a small chance that benadryl instead of being a mild tranquilizer, could have the opposite effect.