Why is it that every time I tell someone I’m going on the ship, this horribly sad look crosses their face and they give me their condolences?

It’s only 4 months! There are quite a few positive things to come out of this. I’ll get to see places I may never have the opportunity to visit otherwise; I’ll learn a whole lot about my job that I don’t learn where I work now; I’ll get to meet a lot of people, and I believe everyone has a story to tell. Of course there are negatives - your living space being the size of a bathtub (especially when you’re already on the tall side) surely isn’t ideal, and being confined to the ship is certainly not something I’d choose, but really…aren’t the negatives kind of a payment for the positives?

Anyway, I’m sure we’ll all be laughing in another month when I post that I’m ready to jump ship into shark-infested waters, but until then…just pretend it’s not as bad as you really think it is!

I look forward to starting to post pictures; hopefully, there will be some next week of my berthing.

So I’m down to about 3 weeks and I have so much to do still. I need to wrap up business (2 current clients, one old client who is going to be back in town and wants to order, 1 session this week), and that is my top priority.

I need to buy all my uniforms, new ribbons, medals (I’ve never needed medals before!), shine my shoes and boots, get my nametapes sewn on my uniforms, get a power of attorney, and then start moving my stuff on the ship.

And next week I’m going to San Diego for the Legalman conference, which will take 4 days away from the time I have to get ready.

I also have to get all the Christmas shopping done so B has everything ready to take to WI with him when he goes, I have to talk to Isak’s teacher, I have to go to medical and get prescriptions filled, check into dental (it’s only been 9 months now - whoops), change webpage hosts, go through pictures to get them printed to take with me, clear out my gym locker, and get all my uniforms dry cleaned.

This weekend we’re going to Ikea. There’s only really one place that will be MINE while I’m on the ship, and that is my bed, so dammit, I’m going to have a nice bed. I found a down comforter with a cotton cover, and a cotton duvet set that I just love, so B has given the go-ahead to do a little Ikea shopping. We also need to get a cover for the couch (Klippan sofa in “natural” = not good with 2 little kids).

I’d also like to get the house organized before I leave, mostly because that way I’ll be sure I’ve got everything I need. I also need to make a list of the things I’m going to bring with me and finish up shopping for it (I always forget something - last night I forgot facewash, but I did remember most everything else).

I’m debating chopping my hair off. B does NOT want me to, but I’m not going to have the luxury of doing my hair every day. I’m torn on this. To cut or not to cut, that is the question.

So about a week ago, my boss says to me: “The LINCOLN needs someone to deploy with them next month. I just wanted to give you a heads up that I think they’re leaning toward you to send. What do you think?” What do I think? Well, that doesn’t really matter in the Navy. So I say something along the lines of “Whatever.” Not in a negative way, just whatever in the sense that if I go, okay; if I don’t, okay.

I hear on the phone about a half hour later that I volunteered myself!

So for a week I waited and yesterday I got the official word (and orders) that I was indeed going to be going.

The majority of my sea time has been gotten on the Washington State Ferry System. In fact, excluding the ferry, I can count on one hand how many times I’ve been on a boat (excluding B’s canoe, but even including that it wouldn’t add much…maybe 2 or 3?). I went on the USS Conserver (now decommissioned) when I was about 15 when my brother was in and took us on a tour of it while it was tied up. I went to the USS Ford for a short tour once, and the USS Shoup to drop off some papers. And then I went on a boat once in Iceland to get to a little island.

And that’s it.

So now I’m going to be on the Lincoln (where GWB landed during the conflict and declared “Mission Accomplished” - about 1,500 deaths ago). I’ve got no idea what to expect. I’ve heard varying things from “it’s not so bad, being away from your family is the worst part” to “my husband [who has been on a ship] told me that if I go, I will either be taken to mast [non-judicial punishment], I’ll jump off, or I’ll kill myself.” Well.

I’m maintaining a positive attitude so far. From what I understand, the worst is over - the worst being the work-ups that prepare you for the deployment. I’m looking forward to the liberty ports and being able to see stuff and take pictures. Hopefully my work will be interesting. Even more hopefully, the people I work with will be great.

Today I get my berthing [sleeping space] and will get to meet some of the people I work with. I went yesterday and met my chief and one of my coworkers. My office is small, to say the least, with something like 8 desks crammed in it. If I can get a wide-angle lense before I leave, I’ll be sure to take pictures. If I don’t get a wide-angle, I don’t think I’ll be able to take any because it’s so small! I might have to be doing panoramas to get the whole picture if I can’t find a wide-angle lense.

So today I have to buy uniforms, make lists and start Christmas shopping. I’ll be gone for all of the holidays, and somehow I don’t think B will be up for picking, buying, wrapping and sending presents. Maybe sending, but the rest will most likely have to be done before I go. Time is running out fast! Less than a month to go…

I had never seen a slug aside from Monster’s Inc. before I got to the northwest.

Now I’ve seen so many of them, and they are gross! But gross in a kind of cool way.

I was going to the grocery store tonight and it had recently rained. A very large slug was slinking along the sidewalk in its shell….something I had never seen before.

Since I couldn’t find my PDA in the car, I had to go back upstairs, and I thought I’d bring the slug with me to show B. I picked it up and it sucked itself up into the shell, as far as it would go (though it was a very large shell and wouldn’t fit). I brought it upstairs and put it on the kitchen floor where my kitty curiously sniffed it for quite a while before losing interest.

It was fascinating, sticking out its antennae (though I’m sure they’re not called antennae on a slug). I noticed that it does, indeed, leave a trail of slime behind it, and I was sure that my kitchen floor is not the environment a slug is adapted to, so I picked it up (with a semi-”slurp” sound) and took it outside. By now it seemed to have warmed up to me and was reaching out its antennae, even though I’d disturbed it again. I put it out on the cool and damp concrete where it resumed its slow journey back to wherever it came from.

I sat with him on the ground for a while, watching the trail of slime extend behind him, his curious antennae searching for who-knows-what, before I left for the store.

When I got home, I peeked to see how far he had travelled, and didn’t see him anywhere. I was surprised he would have moved so quickly, until I turned back around and there he was, on the side of the wall.

I’ve decided that success often has nothing to do with talent or achievement as much as it does to do with luck and knowing the right people.

How does one go about finding the right people, though??

We went to the Mukilteo Lighthouse Festival last weekend. We only went to the art center where they had the glassblowing, clay throwing, and the digital photography exhibit. I was particularly interested in the digital photography.

We went into the exhibit room for the photography. There were a few pieces that I really loved, and then some that, well, weren’t. There were three that were 4×6s of no particular subject, very poor resolution, in cheap Ikea frames - and as much as I love Ikea, sometimes you need something a little more than a cheap wooden frame painted green. And I know that art is subjective, but I’m able to appreciate something that I don’t necessarily *like* because I can see that it is somehow meaningful and well executed. There were several pictures there that looked like just snapshots. I can’t even remember what they were of, they were just so…forgettable.

There was one absolutely gorgeous picture of a dahlia that I loved and looked at for a long time, as well as some that weren’t my style but were really well done. But then there was the handful of these really poor-quality snapshots, framed and hung in a gallery, being sold for $25 a piece.

It just made me wonder how one gets the recognition to hang their art in a gallery, while so many others are never noticed. I’m certainly not saying I’m the best photographer here - I am sure there are many other artists locally who are much better than I am, but the selection of artwork was small and included these low-quality 4×6 snapshots.

I just want to know how to get in with the “right” people!

So last night was B’s birthday. A very old 32. I will forever be grateful that he will always be 5 years older than me.

We sent him to the commissary to bake his cake, and put it in the window to cool off where it thereby got rained on from the open window. Fortunately, it didn’t get too soggy and was just cool enough when he called from the exit on the freeway. Since I drive the route he was coming home from daily, I anticipated exactly when he’d be back. We frosted the cake and I put in the candles - all 32 of them - and waited until I was sure he would be home to light them.

Wouldn’t you know he decided to stop off at the mailbox just as I lit them. Watching how quickly the candles were burning down, I told him NOT to go to the mailbox, to proceed to our place IMMEDIATELY. His usually nice quality of being laid back was suddenly not very nice at all. He seemed to be in no rush to get home, of course not knowing that our house was coming perilously close to burning down with the massive amount of fire quickly burning down into the cake.

So now I call him again, screaming for him to RUNNNNN. I send the kids out into the corridor to start singing Happy Birthday to rush him up. When he finally makes it in, the frosting is sizzling, the candles are gone and starting to glow because the wick has nearly disappeared. Fortunately, he blew it out before we lost all our wordly goods because he’s so old and has so many candles.

The mug that said “Navy Wife: Toughest Job in the Navy” was a hit. What can I say, I have a great wife. He cooks, he cleans, he takes care of the kids - all I have to get him to do is knit me a sweater and I’d be an even happier woman.

Cheers.

Poor I.

I was talking to him tonight and out of nowhere, he started talking about taking driving lessons so he can get his drivers license. Seeing as he is only 5 years old, I didn’t think I’d need to worry about this just yet. In the conversation about driving, I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, to which he replied, “Shrek.”

I told him that “Shrek” wasn’t an occupation. Did he want to be a teacher, or a doctor, or a veterinarian, or what? “Shrek, who rescues the princess.” I reiterated that Shrek is not an occupation; he is a fairy tale character in a cartoon. We can’t grow up to be fairy tale characters. We pick jobs that we’ll be when we’re grown up and have families of our own.

And then his chin quivered, and his eyes welled up and quickly overflowed. I thought maybe I offended him by telling him his occupation of choice was not attainable.

Instead, he blurted out through his tears, “I don’t ever want to leave this family.”

I was a little taken off guard and not quite sure what to say about this, so I assured him that he wouldn’t be leaving until he was ready to leave (and thinking in my head - I wonder what he’ll be thinking in 10 years?! He’ll be thinking “I can’t wait to move out of here!”)

He was quite upset, and I tried explaining to him that he’ll always be a part of this family, no matter what, and that he doesn’t have to move out until he wants to (to which he replied, every time, “I don’t want to EVER leave this family!”).

It makes me happy knowing he’s secure in our home and seems pretty happy with our little family, but it breaks my heart to see him so genuinely scared of leaving us. It must be hard to be 5 and be starting to understand these kinds of things.