A modern design take on the classic saying.  We’ve got prints available now in our Shop!

Some of us nomadic spirits enjoy the mobile lifestyle you get when you are a military family.  We’ve lived all over, and we always try to “Bloom Where We Are Planted.”  Each place we have lived has added to the richness of our lives.  These prints celebrate that quality.  We have “Home is Where the Navy Sends Us” as well as “Home is Where the Army Sends Us” and “Home is Where the Marine Corps Sends Us.”  Check out our custom listing for prints with the place names of where you have been stationed.  We also have these prints available with maps for you to star the locations! Check ‘em out now!

I like to think of New Year’s Resolutions as more like a plan than a list of solid goals.  The goal is, as always, to be the best mom, wife and artist I can be.  I figure if i get around to most of these, I’ll be okay this year.

TEN:  Quality reading for you and for your little ones. I know you are busy, but nothing fills the creative well AND gives you a little escape from your busy day like curling up with a book, even if it is just for fifteen minutes before you head to bed, while you wait for your kids or during lunch at work.  This lucky Creative Mom got a Kindle for Christmas! And for the little ones, make it easy and check out the book “Honey for a Child’s Heart.” You’ll find great reading lists for all ages.  This helps with that overwhelmed feeling you get at the library.  This year introduce your kids to the classics: Pooh, Peter Rabbit, Little Sal, Max and the Wildthings, Narnia… and on and on!

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NINE:  Exercise. I’m not talking about training for a marathon, although major kudos if you are! Just head out for a walk, take the kids or use it to de-stress from your day.

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EIGHT:  Eat Real Food. Less fast food, more fresh food.  Cut out products that come in a box with powder or are neon blue.  Avoid foods with high fructose corn syrup. Always have options like fruit and whole wheat crackers available for hungry kiddos.

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SEVEN:  Do Worthwhile Stuff. Take the time to find out about the cool things in your area AND DO THEM.  Find activities that teach your kids about nature, about doing good and helping others, about staying healthy, about history and geography and art. You might just find yourself inspired along the way.

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SIX:  Stay updated. Keep an eye on what is new and exciting in your creative field.  Get inspired by others who do what you do.  Join a critique group, go to a conference, take a class… and save up to upgrade your Adobe software (:

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FIVE:  Simplify. De-clutter your life a little and breath a bit easier.  No Mom does this better than the Simple Mom.  If you haven’t checked her out, you should!

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FOUR:  Find your Balance with Chaos. No one can win the war against chaos.  My husband, the physics expert, says it is impossible.  He even had an equation to prove it.  So, your house cannot be perfect, your kids cannot always be predictable and your hair will not always do as you wish.  Find your balance between laundry and playtime, between TV and sleep, between work and home.  And if you lose a tough battle one day, don’t worry, chaos will always be around to battle with tomorrow.

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THREE:  Stay Connected. This does not mean spend an hour a day on facebook.  Call  your mom.  Send photos of your kids to your grandparents.  Check on your little brother.  Send birthday cards.  Have coffee and playdates and cultivate friendships with people worth being in your life.  Find good professional relationships with those who make you a better creative person.

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TWO:  Fill the Well. Inspiration can be illusive.  You have to get inspired.  Every creative soul needs different things.  Mine likes antique stores, nature walks, used bookstores, quirky movies and art galleries. Seek out your muse, and don’t be afraid to have your kids help you find it.  Seeing things through their eyes can be the greatest inspiration you will find.

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ONE:  Quality Time. As a military family, we know all about quality time. This is the most important item on this list, and it can be forgotten, put off or faked too easy.  Turn off the TV and play a game.  Have a conversation, read a book and talk about it, go on a walk together, really pay attention to your kids one on one with no distractions.  You might be with your kids all day, but even on the busiest days try and take some time to let them be your sole focus.  Because you’ll blink and another year will go by.

I know you’re busy, so I’ll cut right to the chase.  I love my iPhone, and here are some of the reasons why.  This is by NO MEANS a complete list.  These are just a few apps I happen to have collected and use on a regular basis.  Have some better ones? Please add them to the list by commenting to this post!  I look forward to hearing from you.

Best Apps to Organize Mom (or Dad)…
Because Time is always in short supply.

Grocery IQ: I am a lousy grocery shopper.  I have to have a list or I’ll get distracted by the tortilla making machine and forget half of the dinner ingredients.  This simple app lets you jot down an item right when you think of it.  It gives you a categorized list, lets you check items off as you shop and has tons of extras like a favorites list and multiple store lists.  I’m sure it has lots of goodies I haven’t even discovered yet. Easy to use and  hopefully less likely to be forgotten on the kitchen counter. Shopper is another great grocery list maker too.

To Do’s: A simple, no frills to do list. Let’s you assign priority, move items up and down, as well as make notes under each one.

Notebooks: A step up from the basic notepad that comes with iPhone.  Totally worth a few bucks if you need to organize your notes into folders.  It saves as you type so you don’t have to worry about losing that novel you are writing on your iPhone.  And when you finish, you can just email it right to the publisher!

Flight Track: Because you always need to know right when to pick the grandparents up from the airport.

Phone Flicks: If your family has a Netflix subscription (and if you don’t you should try it out) save some time by picking up the free Phone Flicks app.  You can do most of the things you can do online and who knows if you’ll have time to sit down at the computer today.

iFitness: It is a bit pricey, but it is helpful if you need a new fitness routine or just need someone to tell you what to do at the gym.  It is also a great way to keep track of your workouts.

Facebook: A must have these days.  Post photos of your kids, keep up with all your friends at once, sent quick messages.  And, a great way to kill some time while someone sits on the potty for the eleventh time in one hour.

Clock In: A simple time clock.  Handy for anyone who works freelance or by the hour, or if you want to have a quick record of nap time length or feeding times.

Digital Clock: Just a digital clock.  I use this when we travel.  Make sure you’re plugged in though.

Kindle for iPHone: I don’t have a Kindle, but I always have a book on my iPhone.  It isn’t perfectly ideal for reading, but it works just fine.  I pull it out while my daughter plays for a few minutes in the bathtub.

Walt Disney World Resort Times Guide: This was super handy on our recent trip to WDW.

WDW Dining: Also super easy to find restaurants in the park.

Wikipanion: You don’t have time to run to the computer to look up the name of last season’s Dancing with the Stars winner.  But it will drive you crazy until you remember! Now the answer is at your fingertips.

Amazon Mobile: Oh yeah, shopping on your phone.  Now I just need my flying car.

Other iPhone time savers:  Make sure you are using all that your iPhone can provide.  If you don’t know how your Maps, Messages, Calendar or Contacts works, take some time and figure them out.  You’ll save tons of time in the future.  I also recommend MobileMe, which pushes all of your email, contact and calendar information so that it is always current on your iPhone, computer or web, no syncing needed.

Best Apps to Entertain Little Ones…
Priceless on a plane, at Daddy’s graduation or waiting in line at Disney World.

First Words: I thought this one was lame at first, but my daughter loved it.  It is basically just cheesy pictures and words.  My daughter liked the animal sounds.

iAlphabet: A great little ABC program.  Simple and easy to use.  Just tap a letter and it comes up with a picture and sound.

Bubble Wrap: Just like the real thing, only endless!  Great for entertaining husbands as well.

Koi Pond: My daughter likes the fish, but really I bring this one up whenever I need a moment of zen.  Just lovely Koi fish swimming in a pond. You make ripples in the water with your fingers and they swim away.

Disney Fairies Fly: Okay, this one is for me. More fun than you would think, and totally addictive.

iFart: My husband made me include this one. It doesn’t really deserve a description.

Other iPhone Toys…

I always have a few episodes of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and Little Einsteins on my iPhone just in case I REALLY need to keep a little one mesmerized for a while. We also found that with really little ones, a collection of familiar photos in your photo album is a great way to entertain and teach new words.  For a plane trip when our daughter was just learning her words we filled my husband’s iPhone with pictures of animals, shapes, letters, her grandparents faces and pictures of her.  She loved it, and so did the people sitting next to us on the plane.

Now it’s your turn.  What iPhone apps can you not live without?

Juggling motherhood, military family life and a successful business is always a challenge.  My good friend Roxanne is a pro!  Read her motivating Q and A with Fox News.  

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,519199,00.html

For more info on Roxanne and “The Original Design Company of Military Wives” (and to see some fabulous “Creative Mom Web Design”) Check out The All Fired Up Candle Co, and Jane Wayne Gear websites.

How do I share photos of the worlds most adorable child (my own) with all of my friends and family without much effort on my part or annoyance on theirs?

My solution: The Photo of the Week.  

Every Monday I pick one photo I’ve taken recently, and I send it out to everyone at once.  There are rules though…

Make it Easy for You:

• The photo doesn’t have to be in the last week, just one you haven’t sent before.  
• Don’t worry about writing an accompanying article.  Just a caption. (see sample above.)
• Set up an email group so you don’t have to add each email each time.

Use Proper Email Etiquette:

• Don’t send huge files! Send a small pic that can easily be viewed and sent.  (See my article on image size and resolution if you need help here.)
• Don’t spam people you hardly know with pictures of your kid.  Don’t send a blanket email out to everyone you’ve ever had contact.  Narrow it down to those people who know you and your kiddo and who genuinely want to keep in touch. 

Photo organizing programs like iPhoto for the Mac make organizing, sending, editing and resizing photos easier than taking the photo!  

At the end of a year, even if you skipped weeks, you have a photo record of your child as she grows, and you have kept in touch with just a few clicks a week. 

Recently I have been rewarded in my Photo of the Week effort!  My fabulous sister-in-law has taken up the practice as well.  So now every week I get rewarded with the smiling faces of my nieces and nephews in my in-box!

What photo sharing solutions have you used to keep those far away grandparents, aunts and uncles up to date as your kids grow and grow?

We, the work at home moms, are a misunderstood bunch. No one can really identify with your day to day balancing act except for another gal juggling the same combo of kids, clients, customers, paperwork and housework. 

I have a hard time parenting and working at the same time.  My extra eager baby who is currently trying out the whole toddler thing usually requires both of my eyes and at least one arm at all times. So, even though my desk is set up next to my daughter’s play area, I rarely do more than check email and do small ancillary tasks while I’m on baby watch.  I do the bulk of my work during her two hour nap time in the afternoon and after she has gone to bed.  I’ll slip in more work time when she’s playing with Daddy if I need to as well.  But, sometimes it doesn’t work out that nicely. 

One of my very best clients is a fabulous lady named Roxanne. I am lucky enough to work as kind of a one woman graphics department for her two companies and the multiple projects she has going on at any one time.  We usually work at a reasonable pace, she calls me with whatever project she needs, and I calculate how many nap times and evenings it will take me to complete.  But, sometimes Roxanne, like every business owner, has graphics emergencies.

One seemingly normal morning I get a slightly frantic call from Roxanne.  She’s at a Kinkos in Virginia getting ready for a big sales meeting, and she needs me to email them the product layouts we’ve just spent the last week vigorously completing. She also needs a few alterations, a new design included, a legal statement added and a cover layout.  Oh, and she needs it in an hour.  After spending countless hours getting these sales boards ready for presentation my gut wrenches at the thought of such a big project crumbling.

I eye my ten month old, who is currently playing quietly like an angel with a pile of blocks.  It’s nowhere near nap time, and Daddy is at work.  Maybe she’ll just play nicely for an hour?  I always was an optimist. 

The first fifteen minutes breezed by.  Roxanne called.  Had I emailed anything yet?  I told her I was sending the first of the pages right now, and to call me if there were problems.  When I hung up the phone I felt two little hands on my thigh.  I explained in very clear language that if she wanted Mama to have nice things like new handbags, manicures and the Cuisinart Grind and Brew Coffee Maker (the fancy stainless steel one), she needed to play quietly and let me finish working.  She blinked her giant blue eyes at me, opened her mouth and let free a jumble of vowel sounds that sounded eerily like a rebuttal.  She paused to give me time to see the error in my argument. I kissed her forehead and turned back to work.  Her hands patted my leg furiously, and I’m sure if she could have stomped her feet yet she would have. I made some half hearted placating sounds and patted her head with one hand while I copied and pasted Roxanne’s legal statement with the other.  I could almost hear the impending explosion building.

I get the first batch of files ready a few seconds before Mt. Toddler erupts. I press send with my pinky finger as I slide down into toddlerworld.  She is immediately appeased.  The tantrum switch flips off, and other than the presence of two enormous tears clinging to her cheeks you would never have known she had just moments before thought that her mother would ignore her forever leaving her with all kinds of complexes and psychoses.  The angel wings once again sprout from her back and a halo bounces up from her wispy hair.   She is very proud of me for seeing the error in my ways.  Goooood Mommy.

Above us my computer makes a whooshing sound as the files are successfully sent.  My angel eyes me suspiciously.  The phone rings, and her wings and halo vanish.  Thinking it must be Roxanne I pick it up.  It is my neighbor with a pineapple emergency.  Julia starts fussing at my feet again, and I pull her up to my hip as I listened.  Did I hear the latest neighborhood news? Have I been to the new Starbucks? Did she tell me the new words her son was saying precociously incorrect this week? Oh, and did I have a can of sliced pineapple? My call waiting beeped in just as she was getting to the point.  I quickly told her I didn’t’ have sliced pineapple, and that I had a client on the other end of the line.  I was working.  She starts apologizing, and I tactfully click over to the other line.  

Roxanne, who could probably write a sister article to this one about how she had to get sales boards printed between soccer practice, a dentist appointment and a meeting with Millitary Spouse Magazine, was only a few octaves away from almost-time-to-freak-out voice.  Only half of the boards had come through!  Her kinko’s copy nerd guy was having a panic attack! 

I explained quickly in my best professional voice that I had actually only sent half of them, that I still had the rest and the cover design to do, but that I was doing it right now, and that it would be done in time.  She hung up and let me get back to work.

By now, my baby was firmly attached to my hip. “Do you want to play with your blocks?” I asked.  

She dug her tiny fingers into my squishy mommy tummy. No time to go for a run today, we had work to do!

“How about you help me on the computer?” I offered.

Her almost-too-large-for-her-head eyes threatened to eclipse her face.  Mommy’s computer was a giant, shiny, colorful, forbidden mystery.  I sat her down, facing the computer and started back to work. I only had one hand, so I was slower than usual, but I was almost ready to give myself a few good mommy points when my Skype ringer jingles and my mother-in-law’s face appears on my 24 inch monitor.  

My daughter and my mother-in-law immediately start up a game of peekaboo.  

“Hi Mom, I’m actually working right now.  I’ve got a deadline.”

“Oh! Sorry!” she says, as a sister work-at-homer. “I just wanted to tell you that there is a submarine on JAG tonight.  That’s all. Bye!” 

My daughter waves.  I make a mental note to tell my husband so that he can roll his eyes and have a nice rant about the inaccuracies of military life portrayed on television.  

Back to work. I get the legal statement finished and am almost done with the new designs when my assistant realizes there is a keyboard within her reach.  We play a game of “no touch” for a while until the phone rings again.  

Roxanne can’t take Kinko’s anymore.  She’s going to get a smoothie. But, she needs the completed boards in the next fifteen minutes if she is going to make it.

After the phone call, my assistant realizes that her job title is meaningless. I turn her around in my lap, incase some snuggling will suffice.  

She squirms and wiggles. I click and drag.  She whimpers and drools.  I copy and paste.  Almost finished.  

The phone rings again.  It’s my neighbor again.  “No I don’t have crushed pineapple either.  I’m working right now.”  

I finish the boards, hit send and start on the cover.  From my lap I hear a desperate intake of breath followed by that dreadful silence that can only be followed by a starving baby scream.  The cat bolts upstairs, and the dog heads for the kitchen.  In my rush I had missed a feeding.  I was almost done.  I just needed a few more minutes, then I could cuddle and nurture and bond, but right now, I was desperate.  I pulled up my t-shirt, pulled down my bra flap and latched her on.  Her screaming stopped, and her arms wrapped around my ribs like a vice.  A little guilty, and feeling a little ridiculous, I continued.

Five minutes of furious layout design and simultaneous nursing later, I only have a few finishing touches left when she starts to complain.  I keep going.  I can finish.  I’m almost there.  She pulls off and starts to wrestle with my shirt.  I’m saving the file when the smell gets to my nose.  

If you’ve never experienced the vast array of smells that accompany a weening baby then just imagine what green beans and pureed chicken might smell like after sitting for a week in a toxic waste dump next to a neglected sewage plant during a heat wave in a stagnant swamp. Even my newly minted mommy nose of steel had to take a moment.  This could not be ignored.  

I pick her up off my lap, releasing the worst of the smell.  I reel backwards, my baby at arms length, and I am halfway to the diapers when I notice that this was no ordinary poo.  This was a poo-splosion.  I had light greenish brown poop, complete with a few mystery chunks running down my thighs, and my daughter had poop down both her legs and up her back where it had erupted in a fountain of baby diarrhea.  And to top it off, I had also leaked breast milk all over the front of both of us.  

I rush to the bedroom, place my daughter in the bathtub and strip her down.  I turn on the water and then strip me down.  I pull down the shower nozzle that I usually use to wash the dog with and spray the poop off.  My daughter loves this.  When she is clean I dry her off and place her naked on a towel on the floor while I throw on something without body fluid on it.  When I am done, she is halfway to the living room. I check the clock.  I still have time! 

The doorbell rings.  I snatch her under one arm, hurdle the baby gate at the bottom of the stairs and rush to the door.  The cat, who is not allowed outside, takes full advantage of the chaos and bolts out the door as soon as I open it.  The UPS man hands me a package.  I hand it back and point him to my neighbor’s house.  Maybe it’s some pineapple.

I throw down a soft blanket, lay my naked offspring in the middle and sprinkle a few beloved toys around her.  Fed, pooped and naked, she practices “steamrolling” her toys (her Daddy would be so proud).

Roxanne calls just as I hit send. “You’re a lifesaver girlie!” 

We made it on time.  Roxanne made it to her meeting, fully prepared.  And my daughter and I roll around on the blanket together until nap time.  Then, it’s back to work on the next project. 

Epilog: The cat was gone for a few hours, but did finally decide to come home and vomit a few times on the carpet.  The dog loved this.  My neighbor found some pineapple from a friend down the street. Now almost two, my daughter has her own place to “work” right next to me.  Crayons are her current medium of choice. The JAG episode about the submarine was completely ridiculous.  And, if you want to see what a few work-at-home-moms can accomplish, check out Roxanne’s booming business and “THE Original Design Company of Military Wives™!” at www.janewaynegear.com 

10. Everyone who lived on your street when you moved in has left.

9. Your neighbor’s cat is eating your flowers.

8. Your neighbor is mad because your cat is eating his flowers.

7. You’ve eaten at every restaurant in a 15 mile radius a dozen times each.

6. Your kids have more friends in Tokyo, Okinawa, Italy and Seoul than in their current school.

5. Your (our your spouse’s) new CO is recently divorced, has no kids and likes to work late.

4. Your newly built house in military housing is falling apart and infested with bugs. 

3. Your regular babysitter PCS’s with her own family.

2. Your brother’s college roommate wants a place to stay when he comes to visit the area.

 1. Your volunteer organization or spouses club needs a new treasurer. 

I’d love to hear your reasons! Silly or serious, post your reasons for knowing it’s time to get moving.

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In March of 2006 my husband and I packed up our house near Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, and put almost everything we owned in a 20 by 8 by 8 foot container at a facility called the Storage Castle.  Although the name conjures an image of an impressive, secure and slightly romantic destination, the Storage Castle was, in reality, none of those things.  It was simply a maze of shipping containers surrounded by cinderblock walls in a shady part of Honolulu.  

There was a pathetic attempt at crenellations at the top of the wall, but the effect was underwhelming.   Even after purging, as all efficient military families do before each move, everything did not fit.  So we had an emergency garage sale, in the rain, the day before we moved.  We made 50 bucks.  

Being sufficiently uprooted, packed up and released from Navy housing we went our separate ways, as is the sea tour tradition.  My husband left for his second Western Pacific deployment, and I packed up Dixie and the boys (our dog and two cats) and headed back home to Texas.  I was sad to leave the natural habitat of the Hawaii navy wife.  I knew I would miss my friends (those that hadn’t already moved on to the next port themselves), the island breeze, the beaches and the world’s largest navy exchange, complete with waterfall and escalator.  But, I was glad to return to home soil, at least for a while.  I did not plan to stay put for long.  I was going to travel, have adventures, see old friends and broaden my horizons.  I was also going to eat a lot of Mexican food.  

I was going to be a gypsy, a nomad, a free spirit.  I would be so busy with my travels, my projects and my goals that I wouldn’t have time to miss my husband at all.  I wouldn’t miss his embrace or his smile, his jokes or his encouragement.  I wouldn’t miss his cooking or his company at dinner each evening.  I wouldn’t miss his snoring at night or his singing in the shower in the mornings.  I wouldn’t miss him on our anniversary or on the Fourth of July.  I wouldn’t miss his laugh or the way one piece of his hair always sticks up in the back.  Nope.  I was going to be way too busy to miss him at all. 

The Flight – Why toddlers need their own seats
I always enjoy meeting other military wives.  I love sharing stories and commiserating.  Military wives are a resilient, self sufficient, determined, patient and considerate breed of women.  There is, however, one brilliant exception to this.  She sat next to me on my flight from Honolulu to Texas.  I must give the poor girl some credit, and she was girl, a mere teenager actually.  I believe she was nineteen.  She was seventeen months pregnant and had the largest two year old I have ever met in her nonexistent lap.  The only person on the plane who had it worse than me was the kid sitting in front of her.  Monstro the toddler had one hell of a kick.  

I had just said goodbye to my husband, put all of my beloved stuff into storage (including my little red convertible), and my slightly neurotic, more than a little paranoid but melt your guts cute golden retriever was in the cargo hold, probably foaming at the mouth and going into massive convulsions because I had chosen to move her with me back to Texas.  For all of those reasons and a few others, I was a bit emotionally frazzled at this point in my new nomadic life.  I was also not in the mood to hear this chick tell me how glad she was that Monstro was just under the age limit requiring parents to purchase seats for them.  Monstro and I would have both been a lot happier if there had been just a little more room.  It was a long flight home.

Goals – Becoming a Goddess 
As all seasoned or at least partially rational military wives know, the secret to surviving deployment is to keep yourself busy.  In order to accomplish this feat, especially before the arrival of one or more small military dependents, it is important to have lofty goals and an impressive list of projects.  The opportunity for self improvement is many times overlooked by some spouses.  Don’t just create goals to fill the time.  Fill your brain, your soul, your pocket book or your bookshelf.  

Filled with the enthusiasm of having six months to devote to myself, as soon as I got settled in my nomadic base camp (my mom’s house) I embarked on my first goal with considerable zeal and a great pair of black yoga pants.  No, I did not actually take yoga.  Even after living in Hawaii my legs were just too white to buy the tiny workout shorts.  I was going to get in shape.  I was going to wow the uniform off my husband when he got home.   Since I hadn’t seriously undertaken any kind of physical fitness regime since prancing around in a sequin hat and fringe covered leotard in my high school drill team, I was a bit uncertain as to where to begin.  So I hired Trevor.  For the sake of my husband’s piece of mind, we will refer to Trevor as Jennifer, as I did in my emails to him regarding the progress of my goal of wowing the uniform off of him when he returned.  Let’s face it, there is no need to tell your husband you paid another man to make you sweat until after he is home.  Disclaimer:  The author does not condone lying to your husband while he is on deployment unless it is specifically to conceal the gender of your buff personal trainer who you are NOT interested in and who is so not your type anyway.

So, I purchased a gym membership and six training sessions with Jennifer, the fantasy of becoming a toned goddess firmly entrenched in my imagination.  In our first session I learned the elusive truth about weight loss.  It sucks.  It is painful, time consuming and difficult.  The flabby, undisciplined goddess had a ways to go.

Less enthusiastic, but still determined, I set myself up a plan.  I would workout with the weights (which Jennifer taught me how to use), three times a week and I would work up to running two miles four times a week.  The latter was quite lofty since after my first attempt at running in the neighborhood my heart almost exploded inside my chest and my lungs almost burst from my throat.  It would have been very messy. 

Since I had one goal aimed at improving my body, I now needed a goal to improve my mind.  For this goal, I joined forces with my very good friend Lisa.  Several months before I began my nomadic lifestyle Lisa and I came to the conclusion that we were way too sophisticated, educated and intelligent not to have a vast knowledge of literature.  So we formed a tiny book club.  We took turns choosing a book and we would read and discuss.  We already had Jane Austen and John Steinbeck under our belts when I chose Ernest Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls.  We chose not to be intimidated by the weight of the volume or by the masculine, contrite tone.  I would like to stop here and blame this choice on my brother.  Ernest is his favorite author, and he recommended this novel.  Actually he recommended The Old Man and the Sea, but I didn’t want to read about a crazy old man and a fish, so I took his second recommendation.  

Lisa and I both began our new selection before I left Hawaii.  By the time I moved, neither one of us had been able to reach the second chapter.  We were still committed to finishing it.  Ernest is, by all accounts, a literary genius.  We just hadn’t realized it for ourselves yet.  We agreed to continue our book club and our current scrutiny of Ernest by phone and email.  I took him with me on the plane, and after two pages of our hero trekking through the mountains of Spain, I was fast asleep.

Ernest did not keep me comatose for long, however.  The afore mentioned Monstro the toddler saw to that.

Texas – Driving in a Straight Line
Perhaps I’m old fashioned.  I like it when my husband drives.  Perhaps my husband is just a really lousy passenger.  Since during our stay in Hawaii I was a free spirited artist who shunned the nine to five lifestyle in favor of wearing my pajamas until noon and working way past my bedtime, I rarely drove more than to the store and back.  Fortunately, I also had a girlfriend who drove a bright yellow SUV, and who was also a lousy passenger.  So if my husband wasn’t home to drive, I was usually with my yellow SUV friend.  Long story short: I didn’t really drive that much.  I certainly didn’t drive long distances given that I lived on an island.  So, setting out on my first drive through Texas was like throwing off a heavy overcoat I didn’t know I’d been wearing.

I didn’t have a car back home in Texas.  I didn’t think I’d need one, I was going to be traveling, exploring… by airplane if I could help it.  So when I decided to drive the two hours to Houston to see some friends, I rented a car.  They upgraded me to a truck.  I was happy.   

In college I drove a truck; a small and (according to my husband) girlie truck, but a truck none the less.  This was not a girlie truck.  I don’t know anything about engines except that I am glad that I don’t have to know anything about engines.  But I knew this was a big one when I almost zoomed out of control accelerating out of the parking lot.   I never thought this would make me happy, but it did.  I thought I was an “as long as it gets me there” kind of gal.  I was wrong.  I liked big engines. 

It took me all of four and a half minutes to get to the outskirts of College Station, TX.  State Highway 6 heads straight towards Houston, and my new, lean, mean, American made, could haul a boat if I wanted to haul a boat truckin’ machine left the city behind.  After fifteen minutes of smooth, straight, well delineated, well marked, wide laned Texas Highway I realized I was enjoying myself.  The Texas wild flowers were blooming with childhood nostalgia, cows in green fields zipped by on either side of me beyond the ever present barbed wire fence, the summer heat was still held at bay by the breeze, my machine hummed powerfully as we cruised, George Strait was on every other radio station I flipped through, and I realized I hadn’t driven this far in a straight line in three years.  I love our move-every-few-years military lifestyle, but it was great to be home.  

Guam – The Great Pacific Booty Call
Ah… Guam.  I will start by apologizing to anyone from Guam.  If you’ve heard of Guam, but aren’t sure you know where or what it is, I’ll enlighten you.  Technically it is a tropical island southeast of Japan.  You could drive the length of it in less than a half an hour if the main street wasn’t crowded with sailors and cheap tourists looking for the strip clubs, bored locals cruising up and down, half starved stray dogs, and crazy local election signs (think junior high student council elections but WAY more volume). 

I arrived in Guam on a small Air Force Medical Evacuation plane.  I knew it was going to be bad when the airman at the Space A terminal handed me a set of ear plugs and told me I would have to wear them for the whole flight.  If you are unfamiliar with the joy of Space A, it’s kind of like gambling for the military traveler.  You show up at certain Air Force bases, and you can ride for free if they have space on certain flights.  It is a great way for military dependents, like me, to try and fly out to see our loved ones for an R and R port visit.  This particular port call was in Guam. I have heard that Guam has some of the best scuba diving in the Pacific.  I have small panic attacks trying to snorkel.  They also say that the deep sea fishing is amazing.  I usually vomit on small boats in the ocean.  Hiking might be fun, but there is this little problem with a certain brown snake on the island.  Epidemic has been used to describe this problem.  They have killed all the birds accept a few tenacious pigeons at the beach resorts.  So, no hiking for me either.   But, I didn’t really need any great activities like these.  I hadn’t seen my husband in months… we had catching up to do. 

Two days into our “catching up” a typhoon was spotted heading for Guam.  The next day all leave was revoked.  The day after that my husband’s submarine left the island to weather the storm at sea.  All flights out of Guam were canceled.  Ah…. Guam. 

I spent the next five days at the Guam Marriot by myself.  I never saw a single cloud or a drop of rain.  The typhoon took a sharp turn when it discovered that it had accomplished its goal of interrupting my trans-pacific booty call.  Typhoons love doing that. 

I tried finding some good shopping, but after living in Honolulu I needed way more than the world’s largest K-Mart to impress me.  Really, though, it is officially the world’s largest K-Mart.  I went down to the beach, but got freaked out when a tiny sea creature tried to eat my knee cap.  I tried to go to the movies, but since I didn’t have cash and the entire credit card accepting system on the island was down for some reason that day, I ended up back at the hotel.  Which wasn’t so bad.  By the end of the week the whole staff knew my name, I spent some of my husband’s well earned bonus at the spa, I figured out the best treadmill to use in the gym, and the pool had great lounge chairs.  

I found myself stranded on a tropical island with time to kill, preferably by the pool.  So, I took out Ernest.  After months of procrastinating, I was going to tackle Hemingway.  I ordered a tropical drink, slathered my alabaster skin with SPF 500 and settled in to read one of the classics.  I fell asleep before I finished one page. 

When the typhoon watch had passed and the Space A flights resumed I said good-bye to Guam and headed home.  I found out later that my husband’s ship pulled back in a half hour later.  My husband even rushed to the terminal to try and catch me.  Ah…. Guam.

Japan, How to find your husband in a crowd
I like to consider myself a capable gal.  I can move myself and my husband across the country and back again, even across an ocean.  I can do my own taxes.  I can explain the difference between BAH, SGLI, COLA, and PPV.  I have a master’s degree.  I manage my own freelance business, a house full of pets and an opinionated mother-in-law (pleasantly opinionated, of course) on a daily basis.  I’m also fairly well traveled.   But, standing in the customs line at the Tokyo International Airport, I was having a major confidence crisis.  

The plan was that my husband, who’s ship supposedly pulled in to Japan that morning would meet me outside of customs.  But, as any Navy wife knows, depending on the ship’s supposed schedule will get you into trouble.  This trip, which had of course been planned at the last minute, changed three times and paid for by a bonus we hadn’t received yet was going to start out very badly if any one of the horrible scenarios I had playing in my head came true.  Most of them had to do with me spending a week in Tokyo alone, lost and bewildered until a kindly old woman took pity on the starving American woman and showed me the way to the US embassy.   Don’t get me wrong, I’m not that fresh out of College Station, TX.  Japan, and Tokyo especially, are just so very different.  The movies and the guide books don’t do it justice.  It is another world completely; one that you can’t really grasp until you explore it yourself. 

Armed with only my passport, a credit card and the name of our hotel, a million things ran through my head as the customs agent added a stamp to my collection.  What if my husband’s ship never came in?  What if we can’t find each other in this massive airport?  Our cell phones don’t work.  I don’t have any Yen.  And the only thing I can say in Japanese is “Domo Arigato Mr. Robato.” 

I’m already formulating a plan to get some currency, find a taxi, get to our hotel and call the CO’s wife back home for an update (and avoid the whole lost, alone and bewildered scenario) when the walls around the escalator I’m riding open up to a massive  baggage claim filled to capacity with travelers, strange Japanese advertising and piles of luggage.  We are descending into a sea of waiting faces, some people are already waving at their friends or family members.  I scan the crowd franticly, suddenly wishing that my husband had bright red hair.  I don’t see him.  Surely he hasn’t changed so much in few months that I can’t pick him out of a crowd?  How long do I wander around the baggage claim waiting for him?  How dare he join the Navy and force me to amble around foreign airports alone!  

And then I saw him, a shabbily dressed white guy with a sea bag, standing a head taller than the people around him waving his hands enthusiastically and smiling the most wonderful smile in the whole world.  He had rushed from his ship to the airport, which was a three hour train ride from the navy base, without even showering so that he wouldn’t miss my flight.  He had already gotten local currency and arranged for transportation to the hotel.

I wonder if any of the well dressed, hurried, Japanese travelers went home and complained about the american couple in wrinkled t-shirts and travel stained jeans who stood in the center of the baggage claim and kissed for a solid fifteen minutes.

 Tucked away in my backpack, Ernest didn’t get any reading time until the flight back where I re-read a page I had already read, then watched the in flight movies and doodled hearts around our initials on the napkins.

Ernest gets Read
After traveling with me to Houston, St. Louis, Guam, Atlanta, Tokyo, Honolulu, San Antonio, El Paso and Monterey, as well as a few little places in between, at the end of my nomadic six months I still had not accomplished my goal of experiencing one of America’s most beloved authors.  I had not conquered Hemingway.  Fortunately, neither had my friend Lisa.

Finally, after the joy of homecoming, the effort of relocating once again and finding myself pregnant and with my feet up a little more than usual I buckled down and persevered to the end of Ernest Hemingway’s masterpiece.  

Now I can say, with confidence and a hint of literary snobbery… I’m not a big fan of Hemingway.  I think I’ll go peruse the romance section of Barnes and Noble to  reward myself.  Maybe I’ll find a book about a cute Texas artist who falls in love with a sexy Naval Officer…. Oh, wait, that sounds kind of familiar. 

I’ve read many stories about wives at home during long deployments, but something struck me about this one.  You really got a since of what it is like to go without someone to laugh with and enjoy life with.   And, you also get a sense of purpose and duty and, most importantly, family, from this couple’s story.

A Family Apart