Pesky Thoughts

Heh. Back sooner than I thought. I went and read a few blogs I follow to get caught up. I'm horrible at remembering things that don't come with a notification of some sort.

One of these blogs was by a dear friend of mine talking about another of her friends moving, and how she herself would be moving soon. Which brought me to tears. If you've read previous blogs, you know my husband is in the US military. I won't EVER say which branch or what he does, to protect who we are/his job. But, part of military life is moving. We're currently on the West Coast. We were previously in Hawaii. When I moved to Hawaii to be with my husband, it was the first time I'd left the South. It's been a little over four years now, and I miss home as always. In a bit over a month, I'll be going home for a few months, while hubby wraps up some training. Then we're on to the East Coast and we'll be the closest to home we've been since we got married. I'm excited about that. I can't wait to be home. I can't wait for our daughter to be around her family. However, being a military family  is a double edged sword. I have friends from Hawaii that I may never see again because of life: divorces, changing of careers, etc. I have friends from here that again, I may never see again. There are many branches in this area, and I've made friends with other branches than my husband's. We'll end up spread all over the country, and even overseas in some cases.

The women I've met here - are amazing. I so look forward to leaving and being close to home, but I desperately do not want to leave this band of women I've found here. This life is nothing like what Army Wives makes it look like. No one stays in one place SIX years like they have on that show. It just doesn't work that way. I've missed the births of some of my best friends' babies. I've missed birthdays for kids I was there for their birth. In this life - we (yes we do) choose to leave our families behind, and follow a man (or woman) we love where ever the military may send us. It doesn't make it easy, doesn't make it fun. Packing up and moving every 2-3 years sucks. Missing five holiday seasons with family in a row sucks. But we get the beautiful blessing of surrounding ourselves with a new kind of family. One that chooses to love you and hold you close to their hearts. One that chooses to call themselves 'aunts and uncles' to your children. And then, a year or so later, you're ripped apart. Those friendships NEVER die, because no matter how long it's been since either of you picked up a phone and called each other, you talk on fb, stalk each other's pictures, keep up with those kids, send cards, send presents.

So, it's bittersweet. I'm happy to be going home. I'm happy to be going to a place I'll be near old friends from Hawaii again. But I dread leaving these people. These ladies (and George*) have made this place so much more bearable for me. I love you guys, and you mean more to me than you will ever ever ever know.


*Names changed to protect my people.

Goodnight and God Bless

Unhealthy Attachments

There are tons of new movies coming out every day. Most of them have very redundant themes at this point in the game. RomComs, dramas, horror flicks; they're pretty predictable. On occasion one comes along that is fairly original. If I haven't seen this storyline before, forgive me.

I just watched Ted. Now, this isn't really going to be a review of the movie, don't go thinking that. Rather, I'm about to talk about one of my 'seven things you don't know about me'. Some of you do know this, others don't.

I have a teddy bear. At one time in my life, I probably would have given an ovary for him to come to life and be my real life best friend. When I was a baby (literally), my grandmother happened to get me a Snuggle bear. Yeah, the one from the laundry detergent. His copyright date is 1986. Same as me. I've never been to more than a sleep over without this bear. I have had him my WHOLE LIFE. Even if he's not in the same room with me, he's been in the same house as me. I can't explain it, and it's crazy for an almost 27 year old woman, married with a kid, to have such an attachment to her bear, right? But here I am, after watching this movie, and I needed to hold my bear, have him next to me, in my arms.

When I met my husband and got ready to move to Hawaii with him, I packed all my stuff to take with me to go. His dad was shipping my things two weeks ahead of me. I put Snuggle in the box, taped it up, and immediately had one of the very few panic attacks I've ever had. I freaked. What if the box got lost? The postal service (including FedEx/UPS) loses THOUSANDS of parcels every single day! What if it got damaged, and he was harmed? I've taken such care of him my whole life. He had no tears, no rips, never lost an eye or nose. I had to call my mother and get her to talk me down. How did she do that? She convinced me that since I could take a 'pillow' on the plane with me, I should simply get the bear out of the box. I argued that I couldn't do that because he was already packed and the box was taped shut. She pointed out the obvious. I could tape the box back. So, I got him out of the box, and sat on the couch with him until I calmed down.

I don't understand it, and probably never will. But of all my 'worldly' possessions, this is the one that I would be most upset to lose. It's right up there with my pictures of my great grandfather. If I actually had time to save things other than important documents in a fire - the bear and the pictures of my great grandfather would be the first things I grabbed.

So, that's one more thing you may not have known about me. If you did - well, I hope you enjoyed reading anyway. 

Goodnight and God Bless.

Oh, You Didn't Know?

Following in the Seven Things You Might Not Know About Me trend, tonight I'm going to talk about my insane attachment to my family. I LOVE my family. I HATE being a military spouse only because I can't pack my family and bring them with me on this journey. It breaks my hear that my daughter isn't getting spoiled like I did by my grandparents. She'd already be staying the night with them by now.

I am a Mama's Girl. My mother is one of my best friends, because I can tell her pretty much anything. She gives the best advice ever. When I'm sick, NO ONE makes me feel better other than my Mommy. When I'm sick, she's the only one I want. I hope I'm half the mother to my kids that she's been to us.

I am a Daddy's Girl. My Daddy makes me feel so safe. Daddy takes care of everything. I remember being really little and being afraid of monsters. He made me a monster spray and sprayed anywhere I thought monsters might be to kill them. He gives the BEST hugs.

My sister is my best friend. We are complete dorks when we are together. She is hilarious and fun to hang out with. We also have the worst fights. I don't think I've fought so hard with anyone as I have with her. I don't think I could stay sane most of the time if I didn't have her to talk to.

My brothers are...well...brothers. We love and fight. They're protective and annoying.

Why am I telling you about my family? These are suppose to be about me, right? Well, my family is a part of me. Maybe the most important part. They are where I come from, what made me who I am. Without them, I wouldn't be the woman I am today. I am truly blessed by my family.

Seven Little Things

So, I haven't written in a little while, and I realize I've left you guys hanging. Not that I have many followers, but hey. We were on a bandwagon right? Seven things you may not know about me. Off the list I was given of some things about me was how I get SUPER emotional about the smallest things. We're going to explore this a bit tonight.

When I'm passionate about something, I'm passionate. Whether it's about cars, books, whatever, I lose my mind sometimes. When I read a series, I get really drawn in to the point that I feel like I know those characters intimately. So, I get just as excited talking about them and their adventures as I do my own family sometimes. I love cars. Cars are an amazing thing to me. Especially muscle cars. My god, the lines, the curves, the power! Everything about them makes me happy and I could live at a car show.

Some people find this trait of mine...eh...shall we say annoying? That's fine. I don't mind that. Heck, I annoy myself sometimes, so it's only natural I'd annoy others. But you have to understand, when I let that little 'squee' of joy out, maybe hop around in excitement, or just start talking insanely fast, it's because it's something IMPORTANT to me.

I also get this way when I just do not get something. I don't understand sometimes how people can be thick headed or how they can do mean and evil things. Yes, I get JUST as passionate about those things as others.

I cannot describe it myself, and it truly will take seeing it for yourself to fully understand. But, no matter what, remember that it's a part of who I am and something I really can't control about myself.

And a side note, I had NO idea how hard this was going to be...Not only to find the time to write these seven things, but also to come up with them and actually talk about me. I know, right? This girl? Unable to talk about herself? Mrs. Blabbermouth? Yeah, it's much harder than I ever thought it would be to actually write about ONE thing at a time about myself. Feedback is welcome as always.

Bandwagons? Sure! I'll hop right on that!!

A friend of mine also has a blog. Though I don't know this lovely lady nearly as well as I'd like to, I certainly know her well enough to know, she knows a good thing when she sees it. See, she's from my 'neck of the woods' so to speak, and we seem to be on the same tack 90% of the time. She has been (trying) to do 'Seven Things You Probably Don't Know About Me'. I'm going to follow in her footsteps. Or...blogsteps? Either way, you get posts from me.

I'm going to post this first one (even though I 100% said I wouldn't) JUST for my 'wifey'. See, my best best friend and the only female besides my sister that I've ever lived with for more than just a few months, she hates something about me. She can't stand it. This woman would walk out on me if I did it. See, when I read (an actual book, not an e-book), I have a terrible habit. I flip the pages. It's strange, and hard to describe without showing you. I literally cannot read a paper book without doing this in some form. It doesn't matter if it's a magazine, novel, textbook, any type of book will do. If I'm reading, I do this. It's not even a conscious decision. I just do it. I have even tried to not do it. My parents hated it, too. I've sat on my hands to try and keep from doing it, but only end up reading the same few sentences over and over again. I have no idea when or why this started. I think maybe my love of books caused me to start it. I love the different feels of different types of paper. I could sit in a library all day, and simply feel the books. From the way they fit in my hands, to the material their covers are made from, to the type of paper it's pages are made of, I love books. In fact, I love them so much that I can literally get lost in them. I've had people stand 5 feet from me and call my name repeatedly, and the thing is, I'm not ignoring them, I don't hear them. I'm literally thousands of miles, and sometimes hundreds of years away. I cry when I read sad parts. Especially if its part of a series and I've become attached to the characters. I can talk about some characters like they're real people. (This, we'll get more into on another post in the series.) Books are one of my passions, and for reasons unknown to even me, I 'scrape' the pages of them when I read. Fact 1 that you may not have known about me.


Niaka Beth

Cannery Row

So, as some of you know, I recently went back to work. I'm back in part time retail. Not the most invigorating job in the world. But, I get to work in a very 'historic' place, with all sorts of fun tourist crap. Yes, crap. Mirror mazes, chocolate shops, restaurants, souvenir shops galore, and our little store. I'm not going into detail as to what my store is here. Don't need stalkers.

I've opened the store several mornings, meaning I get there around 9:45 or 10 am. It's really interesting to be on Cannery Row at that time of morning. All  of the stores are opening up, and deliveries being made. It's quiet, and cool. It's a very interesting feeling to get to feel that place wake up. I've been there at all times of the day. Midday, walking around, shopping and enjoying the day, night time, enjoying the nightlife offered, and now early morning. 


I'm not trying to wax poetic here, but I think that the morning is my favorite. There's just an amazing feeling of 'being a part of it' when you're there, seeing Cannery Row wake up. I can't really describe it. I just think it's amazing. 

My Hero

I promised a while back that I would eventually write about the greatest man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. This is a man I plan on naming my son after (if I ever get a son that is). This is a man who was always taking care of everyone else. This was my great grandfather.

I won't talk long (I hope). Some of you have heard a lot of this already. I talk about him a lot. My great grandfather, PawPaw to me, was born in 1926. He served in WWII. He came home and served on the local police force for 31 years. The earliest memories I have of him, are him getting ready for work. At that time, it was mostly him going to sit in the Burger King parking lot. I guess he was watching for speeders and waiting on calls. I remember riding around in his cruiser, going with him to direct traffic when one of the local elementary schools let out.

This man - he went above and beyond the role of grandfather. My mom's sperm donor skipped out on them when they were really young. I don't know the full story there, and I don't think I really need to. I know he left, and for a long time, didn't look back. My PawPaw stepped in and filled that void for them. He took care of them. That's why they call HIM Daddy.

Then I came into the world. I was his first great grandchild. He never stopped giving. He did so much for us as kids. From bringing all our favorite junk food and milk and drinks and anything our hearts desired to the house at least once a week, to taking one of the cars to the square for the Christmas Parade. He'd load that car down with snacks, drinks, and blankets. Then he'd come pick us up, drive back to town, and we'd walk from the car he'd picked us up in, to the car with the amazing view of the parade. Little things like that, to a kid, are huge. I remember when he got too sick to do that for us anymore and it broke my heart. Not because I was missing the parade (though that was part of it), but because Pawpaw wasn't there with us, even when we did get to see it. He didn't get to see me march with the band my senior year of high school.

When I started driving and went off to college, he always asked me (about 20 times in an hour) if I had gas in the car, when the last time the oil had been changed, and if I had air in the tires. Man, did it drive me crazy. Almost as much as when driving by a field of cotton, he'd tsk and say "Man, I wish you'd look at ALL that COTTON." I'd give anything to hear him say it now.

I spent most weekends that my parents let me, at their house. I stayed the night with them, stayed up late, watched t.v. and ate junk food. I'd rather go to their hour than to my friends' houses most of the time. I was spoiled.

He passed two days after my 20th birthday. I had an inkling when my dad called me that morning to ask me to come to his house. I was so selfish and self absorbed at the time, and I didn't want to. I didn't have enough gas to make it to work and back til pay day, unless my roommate came in with great tips during the week, and I couldn't figure out why he wanted me to come down so badly. Then, something in his voice go through to me. I'll never forget that day. I'll never forget hearing him on the phone with my mom telling her he loved her and that he was going to talk to me. I knew what he was going to say when he pulled me into the bear hugs only my dad can give. Knowing didn't make it hurt any less, though. That was almost six years ago. I'll be 26 in a month. Everyone always says time heals. That's not true. It hurts me just as much today, as it did then. I'll never get 'over' his loss. I can deal with it better now. I can't wait to tell my little girl about him. I can't wait until she's old enough to understand what an amazing man he was.

I've been thinking about him more than usual lately. Part of that is the fact that the anniversary is coming up. The other part is the beautiful song Miranda Lambert has out right now "Over You". The story behind the song is that her husband (Blake Shelton) lost his brother at a young age and wrote the song about him. He couldn't record it, but let her. Every time I hear it, I think of him again.

"But you went away,
How dare you?
I miss you. 
They say I'll be okay,But I'm not going to ever get over you." - Over You by Miranda Lambert. 

I guess I rambled a little more than I'd anticipated. If you stuck it out, and read the whole thing, thank you. This was more for me than for you. Sometimes, I just need to read about him. Or write about him.  Thanks for being my sounding board guys.