January 25, 2008


Pictures of Tucker!

I realized I am freaking out like no one has ever had a baby before, but Erin is honestly my very first close friend to ever have a baby. That seems so funny to say, but it's true. I couldn't be happier if it were my own.

And I realized, as I typed that last sentence, that it is true.


I realized I ought to clarify this post, lest I hurt the feelings of everyone else in my life who's ever had a baby. Many of my friends already had their kids when we met. Some of them had babies in the meantime, but usually after we'd PCSed away from each other and weren't in constant contact. None of my or my husband's siblings have ever had children, and I don't live near my aunts and cousins.

But Erin called me repeatedly from the hospital, and called me before she even called her dad to tell him the news. I am so honored that she shared her special day with me.

Also, I want to say how strong she's been. Her husband deploys in the next few weeks or so, but I haven't yet heard her complain at all. Heck, he leaves tomorrow for a week of training, and she is taking it in stride.

She has fully grokked how special it is that she now has a little baby to call her own. Nothing else matters, and nothing else is worth complaining about.

I hope someday I can be as mature as she is.

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January 21, 2008


We had one day to spend in the nation's capital. We went out to a celebratory breakfast for AirForceSon's birthday and then took him to the Udvar-Hazy Air and Space Museum. We got to see the Enola Gay, which is much bigger than I imagined, for some reason. I guess it makes sense -- Little Boy was pretty darned big -- but for some dumb reason, I always imagined the Enola Gay to be the size of the Spirit of St. Louis!

Afterwards, my husband and I made the two hour trip (ugh) into downtown. We went to see the WWII memorial (which hadn't been built the last time we were in town, for our honeymoon), took those ridiculous pictures, and then hoofed it to the opposite end of the mall to go to the, um, Air and Space Museum. AirForceGuy looked at us incredulously when we returned, saying, "You mean you didn't get enough Air and Space this morning?"

There is no such thing as too much Air and Space.

What we didn't know was that the Smithsonians close at 1730, and we arrived brokenhearted at 1710. There was only enough time to run and see the one thing that made it all worthwhile.


And then we turned around and returned to AirForceHouse for pizza and birthday cupcakes.

One day in DC is highly inadequate, but at least I got to see some of the coolest stuff, like the lunar module and Jay Irwin's spacesuit covered in moon dust. I didn't make it to Arlington to pay respects to Grissom and Chaffee, but I guess that just means I'll have to go back.

Now, if I could just go to the moon itself...

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January 20, 2008


Husband, let's try to take a picture of ourselves with the Washington Monument in the background.


Oh, hmm, I have really bad hat hair and you are not smiling at all. OK, um, let's try another one.


Well, that's better, but can we try to take one where the Washington Monument isn't sticking out of the top of my head?


Eh, still sticking out of my head.


Um, no, honey...like can you angle it so that the monument is over to the side of us?


Can't you just be satisfied with that one, Sarah?


No, honey, now you're angling the camera the wrong direction.
Woman, I am going to choke you.


That's perfect! That's exactly what I want. But, um, you look like you'd rather be single. Can we do that exact same thing again, but this time with you smiling?






OK, I am going to pee my pants! Just do it right!
Woman, I am going to kill you.


HAHAHAHA! No, that's totally wrong! Now it's coming out of your head! And I have a flag coming out of mine!


You are the worst picture taker ever!
Well, why don't you do it, woman?
My arm isn't long enough to hold the camera. Come on, do it again.


Yeah, yeah, yeah! Great angle, except, um, you chopped the top of the...
Aw, screw it.

This is so going on the blog.

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If you were placing money on who'd be the biggest troublemaker of the weekend, who would you choose: the pit bull who got rescued from a life of dogfighting or the fluffy, angelic Tibetan terrier?


I mean really. I felt sorry for AirForceDog; Charlie was egging him on the entire time. Poor AirForceDog kept looking up at his owners all weekend with a look on his face like "I promise I am trying to be good!"

Charlie also went after AirForceKid like she was made of ham.


The dogs got along great, the kids were really good, and we adults had a blast. Oh, and AirForceWife can knit socks now.

Good weekend.

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January 16, 2008


Seriously, how could Charlie not make the list of top dog breeds? How can you deny this face?


We are heading on a roadtrip this weekend to visit AirForceFamily, where Charlie will meet his first pit bull. We keep telling him he'd better behave, because a pit bull ain't nothin' to mess around with. I wanna see AirForceDog lay a smackdown on Charlie. Heh.

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January 14, 2008


Erin's baby present is now in the mail.

A couple of people have acted a little shocked that I would wrap yarn around needles for 36 hours when there's a chance that the adoption could still fall through. But Erin and I discussed this a long time ago, right when they found out that getting this baby would be a possibility. I told her that I wasn't going to treat her any differently than if the baby were in her tummy, because nobody looks you in the face when you're pregnant and says, "I'm not going to invest my time or money until the baby pops out and is real." I said I'd treat her the same way I would be treated as a pregnant lady, which in hindsight seems ironic, since her baby is more real than mine was. But I never wanted her to feel different about being an adoptive mommy.

And I had a couple of people sock me in the gut with an I-told-you-so attitude, like I was some halfwit who had never considered a miscarriage but somehow they had glorious wisdom all along that it could happen to me. Those people are lucky we weren't in the same room when they mouthed off. If anything bad happens to Erin and something falls through, anyone who says anything even remotely condescending is going to have to answer to me. I will straight up punch them in the larynx.

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January 10, 2008


I took some before and after pictures, but Charlie was definitely not cooperating. And let's face it, I'm just not so good at taking a picture of myself and the dog with the tripod and timer.


And afterwards, well, I just smelled like eyebrow wax. Which to a dog is quite a curious thing.


I was able to donate 13 1/2 inches, and since the hair salon I went to was a partnered up with Locks of Love, the haircut was free!

And the husband approves. He says it makes me look 30, which I will take as a compliment.

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January 08, 2008


Earlier tonight, I mentioned to my husband how lucky we are that we have nearly the same taste in movies, music, and TV. I asked him, "When's the last time I dragged you to a chick movie?" He couldn't think of anything, until I laughed and said that, ironically, I'm usually the one saying, "Can we please see Die Hard/Terminator/Rambo?" and he's the one who reluctantly agrees. I like westerns, kung fu, and action movies probably a little more than he does.

I got my husband Street Fighter and Return of Street Fighter for Christmas, mostly so I could watch them. I'm a funny girl.

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January 06, 2008


Kayt sent me a very touching article today: The Blank Space in our Family Album

We just finished watching True Romance, one of my favorite movies of all time. And one of the beginning lines held new meaning for me during this viewing:

I kept asking Clarence why our world seemed to be collapsing and everything seemed so shitty. And he'd say, "That's the way it goes, but don't forget, it goes the other way too."

Here's to hope that it goes the other way too...

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January 03, 2008


I'm sure you've heard the joke that there's no such thing as being "a little bit pregnant," but it's not true. I have been returning weekly to the hospital to get my hormone levels checked, and my body is taking its sweet time. Despite the fact that it's been a month since the D&C, my body still recognizes itself as being "a little bit pregnant." And until it stops, there's nothing we can do to try to get a whole lot pregnant.

I find it a cruel trick of nature that, by the time I went to the health clinic to prove I was pregnant and get an appointment, our baby was already dead. The baby that only lived three weeks has taken an additional 12 weeks to finally let go.

And the sad thing is that we thought my husband was deploying this year; his orders not to go didn't get amended until the day we PCSed. We thought he'd be gone for a year and then come home and we'd start a family. Instead he went into Civil Affairs training and we decided to make good use of his time at home. And now here we are, just shy of one year from the day we decided to start a family, with nothing to show for it. According to the original plan, he'd be returning from deployment right now and we'd be starting the journey towards having a baby...just like we're doing right now anyway. Only if he had just come home, he'd've lined his pockets with deployment money, and we'd just be beginning our safe year, not ending it.

Cruel. It just feels so cruel. And we don't even have real infertility problems. It could be so much worse.

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January 02, 2008


Carren Z wrote that she hit a deer yesterday. Luckily no one was hurt, and she didn't mention massive damage to her car, so that is good news too. I started writing in the comments section about my experience with hitting a deer, but the story is just too much for a comments section.

Last night the husband and I were trying to decide what cheesy little story we'd tell Alex Trebek if we were on Jeopardy. My husband wants to use the time they found the dead insurgent's body they were looking for when his cell phone went off. We laughed that he'd freak the bejesus out of the Canadian ponce. But today, after I read Carren's post, I told my husband that my Jeopardy story would have to involve the deer.

It's Halloween 1997, and I call my boyfriend at his college in Iowa to break up with him. He is stunned that I would break up with him over the phone and insists that I drive up to see him and talk it out in person. Nevermind that it's 11 PM; apparently I feel guilty enough about breaking up to think this is a rational idea. And it's Friday, so I suppose I could go.

I set out for the three-hour drive to his school. I am exhausted already when I start driving in the rain, so I stop and buy a soda and a bag of Sun Chips. There is no one on the road so late at night, so I'm cruising along. And this was before I became a fuddy-duddy who never speeds; I was flying.

All of a sudden out of the corner of my left eye, I see a unicorn. No, for real, that's what it looked like. The lights of my car reflecting off the deer made him look white. And the split second I see him, I crush into him. I didn't even have time to react: all of a sudden the car comes to a nasty halt, and Sun Chips go flying everywhere.

I get out and look around, but it's so dark that I can't even see the deer. I start screaming incoherently at the deer, something about how he better be dead because if I find him, I'll kill him. The car looks like hell, but it still works and I pull in to a gas station at the next exit. I asked some rednecks in the store, with hope in my voice, if I can still drive the car. They look at me like I'm insane and say that it will blow up if I keep going. And then they take off to go find the deer carcass.

I have to call the police, who show up and yell at me for leaving the scene of the accident. I explained to them that the deer was already gone and that -- this being the era before cell phones -- how on earth was I supposed to call in the accident if I was still sitting back at the side of the road?

And then I had to call my parents.
Oh lord.

This was also the era before Mr. T pitied the fool who didn't use 1-800-COLLECT. I just made a regular old collect call to wake my parents up and tell them that I was stuck somewhere in podunk Iowa with the totalled car that they'd paid for. Then I called the ex-boyfriend and told him, through my teeth, that now he had to find a way to come get me.

You know how girls love that Alanis Morissette song, how they get righteously angry over break-ups because of "You Oughta Know"? Yeah, well, that song came on the radio as I was riding in the car in silence, in the middle of the night, through Iowa with the boyfriend I had just dumped over the phone. That's his break up song for me.

And then I spent my weekend imitating Huis Clos: I was stuck in a dorm room with no car with the boyfriend I had just dumped.

It was agony.

I also was a moron and didn't know anyone's phone number from my college. I remembered one person's number who lived down the hall from me, and called him. He wasn't home, and in tears I begged his roommate to go find one of my friends to call me back, someone who would come save me from the weekend from hell.

Incidentally, that is why I immediately bought a Casio Databank Watch, so I would always have people's phone numbers handy the next time I am trapped in a dorm room in Iowa with an angry ex.

There are no buses out of this town in Iowa. There are no trains. There was no way to get home except to bribe someone to drive up and get me.

Meanwhile, I'm still breaking up with the boyfriend, who does not at all want to be broken up with and sees this weekend as his chance to talk me out of it.

Yeah, Huis Clos.

Damage to the car: $4500
That five minute collect call to my parents: $80

And the priceless part about the story is that, a week before the deer incident, I got my fishing license violation. My friends all decided that I was a menace to the environment. I would come home every other day to find cartoon drawings of dead deer and articles about the mating season taped to my dorm door. And of course when a Pennsylvania man made the news a month or two later for beating a deer to death with his bare hands...well, I never lived that down.

Having a story to tell Alex Trebek: priceless

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