What I Wore Sunday (Hampton Roads Edition)

It's been 3 years, but I am back! I lived in Norfolk/Virginia Beach (yes, that's in Virginia, for those too lazy to look at a map) back when I was dating/engaged/newly married to B. The rough timeline of that is from September 2007-August 2010. This is a huge military area, and B was a military man, so it makes sense. Now he's only a 'part-time' military man, doing his 2-week Reservist commitment here right now. Cora and I tagged along to see old friends and visit the old stompin' ground.

This old stompin' ground of course included a visit for mass at my old parish, Sacred Heart. We actually used to live within walking distance of the church, and I loved walking through the beautiful urban neighborhoods on Sunday morning. The choir at this church is just amazing, and the music director writes a lot of the music (but it sounds like it could have been written 300 years ago!). And the acoustics in there just enhance the choir sooo much. I'm such a music/choir snob.

I love the detail on the ceiling rafters

The priest saw me during his processional and perked up and gave me a little wave (or maybe it was just a nod of the head?) We got to introduce Cora to him and to some other people, and I remembered how this church really felt like home. I haven't really had that much attachment to a church since, even though I did like our Pensacola parish.

Speaking of Cora, isn't she looking quite adorable today?

Dress: H&M // Shoes: Payless

As for her mass behavior, it was okay. All she wanted to do was climb up onto the pew and then climb down. Finally B gave her his iPhone and she was just entertained by pushing the button over and over. Are there any kids' toys that have buttons that work to do something on a visual level but don't make noise? Because the would be the perfect mass toy for this child.

And oh yeah, what I wore:

Tank: Merona from Target // Skirt: thrifted a long, long time ago // Shoes: Target //
Necklace: Body Central // Watch: Charming Charlie

Two things: This skirt looks awesome with a white shirt, but the white shirt I have got a stain on it right before we left on the trip. Therefore, it did not come with us. Second thing: I know some people out there are anti-tank top or bare arms for church, but I'm not one of those people. My high school had a "2-finger width" rule for the strap of the tank (so no spaghetti straps), and I think that's reasonable. I had a non-matchy cardigan with me in case I got cold, but it's August in the South. Enough said. A lot of women in this parish were wearing sleeveless dresses, and I thought they looked great.

What do you think about bare arms in church?

And just 'cause I love it so, I'll leave you with a picture of the outside of Sacred Heart in Norfolk:

More Sunday fashionistas here

#57: geocache or geotrash?

Well, I got to cross another off the list. One that made it on the list because I had tried to do it a few times before and FAILED miserably. And then I tried some more, and FAILED some more. But then, the skies opened, I found a list of acronyms, and I successfully completed . . .

✔ 57. Go geocaching and actually find something

So a lot of people don't know what geocaching is.  It's basically just a big hide-and-seek game using GPS coordinates.  People hide these "caches" - usually boxes with random stuff inside all over.  The one I found was a "micro-cache."  It was basically a clear film canister (remember those?) with a long but tiny scroll of paper (the log) inside to sign your name.

I had been looking for some micro-caches around my previous home in Norfolk to pass the time during B's deployment.  There were a ton hidden all over where I usually walked, and I never found any!  It was really starting to bother me.  Especially the one hidden in the parking lot to the Opera that was right behind our complex.  I looked for that one at least four times, no joke.  But doing this alone with no experienced geocacher was just running on a hamster wheel.  There was obviously something I was missing.

Luckily, when I looked up the cache for today on the site, the hider had put an acronym there that I didn't know.  I found a good geocaching acronym site (good grief, these people use a ridiculous amount of acronyms!), and learned that many lamp posts have a "skirt" that hides the anchors but isn't secured so you can easily pick it up and hide things in there.  Why didn't I know this five months ago?!  Argh!

Here's a picture of me with my first find:

it was a BYOP: bring your own pen

Unfortunately, that was the ONLY one we found today.  We tried to find some of the traditional caches, the ones in boxes with trinkets and fun stuff, and we FAILED.  Big time.  ("DNF" in cacher-lingo.)  We ended up at three different parks, all within a few miles of our place, so at least that was nice.  But we had to go off the beaten path to look for some of the stuff, and our legs seriously got scratched up (still shorts weather here on the Florida Panhandle!).  And my scratches even drew blood!

B has totally NOT been digging this "hobby" and whined about it pretty much the whole time we were out doing this together.  He told me I needed to stop this nonsense repeatedly, and that I shouldn't be encouraging people to hide trash in the woods*.  I'm starting to think he may be right, considering we didn't find SQUAT after the lamp-post one.  And that one we did find didn't even require our GPS--I just looked up the coordinates on Google maps and could pin down the parking lot and pretty much the exact little island with the lamp (it was a parking lot I was already familiar with).  And honestly,  it felt weird and exposed to be looking around for crap.  Someone even asked me what I lost when we were at one site.  I tried to explain the game to him, but since we hadn't ever found one, I didn't do a very good job explaining.

*This really isn't true, since most geocachers use a "cache in, trash out" policy and pick up trash along the way, helping to beautify the earth and all that good stuff.

The best part of the adventure is that this got us out to explore parts of our new home.  And to see interesting stuff like this:

Along with some local beauty:

Overall, I just don't think we have the patience for geocaching.  Or I need to try it again with someone who knows what they're doing (not my whiny husband!).  But I got to put a big fat "check" on my 101 list, so that's something.

museum day, city art

Yesterday I convinced B that we should partake in Museum Day and go to the local museum in downtown Pensacola. I printed off our free ticket from the Smithsonian site, and we were off. Now, if you Google "Pensacola Historical Museum," it takes you to this site -- which sounds like the same thing but apparently isn't.  I thought we were saving $10 by getting the free ticket, but when we walked in we were informed that admission is free and always will be. Alllllright then.

It wasn't a very big museum. It was your typical small city museum with a few rooms featuring timelines about its founding and whatnot. The only thing we really learned were the actual five flags that make Pensacola the "City of Five Flags" (Spanish, French, British, Confederate, USA).  Oh, we also learned that it still costs the same amount of money ($1) to cross the bridge to Pensacola Beach that it did in the 1930's!  And here I've been complaining that it's too much!

We finished the museum in less than an hour and decided to wander around town a bit. We noticed some music coming from afar and larger throngs of people, so we walked toward that. Come to find out we ended up right in the midst of the annual Pensacola Seafood Festival! And while we weren't so hungry yet, we did enjoy walking around and seeing all the cool crafty things for sale.

Our biggest highlight of the day happened when we stopped to look at some art out for sale.  They were bright, fun cartoonish-looking prints of Pensacola landmarks as well as some kitschy things like a Waffle House and a Krispy Kreme.  BUT THEN, I went farther in the tent and immediately exclaimed "Doumar's!!"  The artist came up to me and asked if I knew of it, and I told him we just moved here from Norfolk.  He then showed me the rest of his collection of Norfolk/VB prints, and explained to me that he and his wife(?) do these digital drawings on an iMac.  And then I turned around and noticed all of his Georgia landmark ones - the Big Chicken, Fox Theatre, the Arch at my beloved UGA.  We didn't buy anything, but we did find him again and get a card.

Check out his site at City Art Market online.  He has a few Chicago prints as well, which seem to be some of his better sellers.  Maybe if this guy's at the next Gallery Night, I'll actually cave and buy something.  They really are neat, no?

church "shopping"

Here we go again, trying to find a church. Sometimes I think it's harder to find a church than a place to live.  We're Catholic, so we go to mass every Sunday (sometimes Saturday vigil) without fail no matter where we are.  At our last duty station, it took us six months to find a church "home."  I initially thought I had found a good one because the priest was great, but then I realized that the community was not very social (or even welcoming to newbies), and well . . . we could just do a lot better.

So I took the advice of my then-boss, who steered us toward an amazing church called Sacred Heart.  I realized then what I had really been looking for in a church:

• Priest.  We have to be able to comprehend what he's saying, and he needs to have passion for his ministry.  Luckily most places seem to have a priest that I like, as long he's not falling asleep giving his homily or talking with such a strong accent that he might as well be speaking another language.
• Music.  I admit it, I'm a liturgical music snob.  We tend to go to the "big" mass on Sunday morning, so the music better be the best.  I really don't like guitars or folk music in a mass setting.  I can't stand choirs who can't sing for beans, and I like those old hymns that everyone knows, and maybe even older.  (At Sacred Heart, the music director actually wrote a lot of the music, but it all sounded like it was written 100 years ago.  And the cantors were all really amazing.)  And congregation, please do not clap at the end.  This is a mass, not a choir performance.
• Community and adult formation.  Gotta have a nice, welcoming bunch of people.  I figure that should come if you go to a place long enough and get involved.  I also got spoiled at our church in Norfolk because of the adult formation activities.  It seems a lot of churches are only focused on their religious education for K-8 and their RCIA classes.  But even us adults could use some activities to deepen our faith and share these experiences with our brothers and sisters in Christ.  You can't just expect to build meaningful spiritual relationships at a few fish fries a year.  Sacred Heart did things like a dinner and a talk (called "gathering at table"), bible studies, justice and peace ministry, etc.  There weren't a ton of kids at the parish, so there were a lot of opportunities for adults. 

We tried our third church today, and it was another miss.  But I'm sure we'll find something eventually, even if we do have to drive to Alabama for it (umm, that's really not very far!).  The good thing about being Catholic is that young adult groups are usually regional, so we can meet others at events like Theology on Tap and Adoration hours and they aren't attached to one church.

One luxury we had in Norfolk was that we were able to walk to church, which I know I'm going to miss a lot.  But hopefully there is an awesome church in this area just waiting for us to show up!

a farewell to norfolk

It's the end of an era.  The movers have come, our place is empty, all we have left is a carpet-cleaning and a move-out inspection.  Then it's goodbye Hampton Roads!  It's actually been harder to leave than I thought it would be.  After college, I moved to Jacksonville, FL, to do AmeriCorps, and since then (or possibly before) I've sorta considered myself a nomad.  But I guess it's a bit different this time since we're the ONLY ones leaving.  College was just a bunch of entrances and exits, with everyone on roughly the same timeline.  It was good to leave Athens -- it meant that you're moving on (and hopefully up) in life.  My AmeriCorps "family" also mostly left en masse at the end of our year of service.  The others just never really left (and probably never will?).

But this time, it's us.  Just us.  And lately I've been reminiscing on my reaction to those first set of verbal orders.  The ones that said we were gonna stay here.  I was NOT happy about it.  But what was hard to convey to my friends (and the reason I really didn't wanna tell anyone) was that I wasn't upset because of the PEOPLE I've met here.  Or the neighborhood we lived in.  Or the church we attended.  All of those things I will miss very dearly.  My frustration really circled back to that nomadic part of my personality.  I felt like we were being denied an opportunity.  I mean, let's face it here, our top six picks were in completely amazing, awesome, exotic, exciting locales.  San Diego, Hawaii, Italy.  If we had actually been selected to go to any of those, I'm sure my friends would've been ecstatic for me, the adventurous one.

After I let it set in a bit, I didn't know what to think.  This could be a great thing, and I could possibly see us as the kind to never leave here (which slightly frightened me as well).  Norfolk was safe, it was fun, I had friends here.  Why was I so against staying?  I can't deny I was jealous about everyone else getting their top picks, and me being stuck here angry at the detailer for being a lazy bum didn't help matters.  But after all the roller-coaster emotions a gal can handle in one week after hearing we're staying put, it changed.  Pensacola.  Our #7 (perhaps 8? either way, pretty far down the list).  I was pretty neutral about the news.  I'd lived in north Florida before, and B had done his OCS at our newly-assigned base.  My initial reaction was just a few simple questions.  Will this be a "real" adventure?  Does this mean I'm going backwards in my life?  Is there anything to DO there?  And, um, didn't some oil thingy just explode near there*?

*Okay, technically, the Deepwater Horizon Spill didn't happen until the day AFTER I got the news.  But still.

I've come to realize that these orders are coming at a great time in our lives.  It will be such a blessing to have my family only a 6-hour drive away, after these past 3 years of driving 10 hours (still cheaper than flying though).  And with my husband on shore duty, he will be around to go with me on MLK weekend and hold our first niece, due this January.  My mom can come down and see us for the weekend when she works in south GA.  And we can drive to see extended family in Tampa and Orlando.  Or we can drive the same amount of time as from Norfolk, minus winding mountains, to see his family in Indiana.  (At least I think there are winding mountain roads, as he's never actually been on land here long enough for us to take a road trip there.)  And when we start pro-creating (or "popping out puppies" as I like to call it), our families and friends all come to us just as easily.  No worries about southern hospitality, either.  I know we'll be taken care of by the fine folks we'll meet, just like we were here.

But Hampton Roads will always hold a special place in my heart.  It is where I went from girlfriend to fiancée to wife.  It is where I had more addresses in the course of three years than I'd had in my entire life.  It is where I had one of the worst roommates ever and one of the best.  It is where I became both a "career woman" and then a "domestic" one.  It is where I first felt like an outsider, and it is where I came to feel like I fit in perfectly.  It is where I first had to "try" at making friends, and it is where my friend-network built up so much that I rarely spent a Saturday night alone.  It is where I experienced a pretty awful deployment, and it is also where I experienced a pretty amazing one.  It is where I got into my first car accident, toured my first submarine, went on my first bar crawl (and subsequently dealt with my first hangover), decorated my first cake, caught my first fish, rode in my first limo, and bought my first boogie board.  I feel like I came here as a confused girl, hoping this dating thing would work out, and will be leaving as a classy young lady.  I feel like Norfolk is where I've received my "big girl panties," and for that, I am grateful.

I truly will miss all of the friends I have made here, from fellow sometimes-lonely Navy wives to passionate Catholic kids to middle-aged sopranos to cable advertising sales assistants (and everything in between).  I'm not very good at saying goodbye in person and I often don't know what to say in these situations other than a traditional Navy toast of "fair winds and following seas," but I thought I'd do this in my own style with a Lebanese Blessing by Jeannette Abi-Nader, since, you know, I'm Lebanese and whatnot.  We  included this on the back of our wedding programs, and I think it is appropriate here as well:

May love be the gardener of your years 
Bringing forth from your grounding in God 
A harvest of wholeness and peace 
A bounty of courage and compassion

May your soul tower 
with the strength of the cedars 
Your heart pound with the power of the sea

May joy rise in you like the mountains, 
And may it be a blessing you share 
With all those you love, 
Who this day make merry 
That in you The great love of God 
Has found a home on earth

That is my prayer for everyone who has come into my life these past three years.  I won't forget you, and I hope to see you again someday!

hampton roads to the gulf coast

We've been down here in Pensacola just over a week, so I thought I'd share my initial observations about the differences between this area and my most recent living arrangement in Hampton Roads.

• The base only has TWO gates.  One front, one back.  And when you leave, you don't have to slow down to under 35.  These gates are also sometimes staffed by actual police officers, not just sailors waiting for a new command or whatever they were in Norfolk.
• The main commissary and NEX are on the other base, the smaller one.  It's about two miles up the street.  It's kinda nice that way.
• The sand here is WHITE.  And it doesn't get as hot (it's still hot, just not walking-across-burning-coals hot the way it can get in VB).
• The main limited access roads aren't very close, so it's stop-and-go at lights any time we want to head anywhere.
• I think I traded in my fabulous kitchen in Norfolk for a patio.  I'm still not sure how I feel about that.  But I'm excited about buying patio furniture.
• I'm glad we signed for a 3-bedroom apartment, even though we really don't need it as of right now.  I just don't want to have to move ourselves if we outgrow it.  I guess a lot of couples rent 3-bedroom houses and it's just the two of them, right?
• The gym here is fantastic, and I'm determined to take every exercise class they offer to see what's right for me.  LOVED Step Aerobics, even though it kicked my tail.  Who knows, maybe I'll find my calling as a fitness instructor??
• The Blue Angels practice every Wednesday morning.  This will merit its own post at a later date.
• There is no wardroom on a shore tour like this.  He did get a hail, so I met his boss (briefly).  A year ago, I probably would've been more than okay with this arrangement, but after this last deployment I know I will really miss the bonds that can be formed by a fun-loving and caring group of ladies.
• Mellow Mushroom, Sonny's BBQ, and probably some other chains I didn't realize how much I missed.  And TRIVIA NIGHTS.  They actually know what they ARE here, and hopefully they will do them right.  (I found one--and only one--trivia night in south Hampton Roads, and I was not a fan of the way it was done.)
• Staying here hasn't been kind to our laptop, and I've had to discover the wonders of the base library.  Since the Norfolk base was essentially off-limits to me for the first 2/3 of my time there (as I was a girlfriend), I never did much exploring once I actually could.  I actually still felt like an outsider there once I was a wife. 
• I don't feel like an outsider here at NAS Pensacola, even though my husband doesn't own flight pajamas.

a pier-less homecoming

Yesterday morning, I awoke and immediately took to the computer to start tracking flights. He had started his day-long "tour of airports" while I was still out enjoying the Ghent Summer Bar Crawl (and regretting that final shot).  When I awoke, I found that B had landed on time in Munich, then landed his connection in Frankfurt. As I was walking to mass, he was boarding his trans-continental flight to D.C.

I made my preparations after I got back.

It seems so simple, but I was more than excited to have 2 towels hanging in the bathroom!

At the last FRG meeting, I won a "homecoming prep kit" -- I didn't know then that I would be need it so soon:

B and I are not the most festive people in the world, so this "patriotic bunting" is quite out of place for us.

Of course I had to decorate our front door:

Let's take a closer look at that:

I am by no means an artist.  Or even an elementary school teacher.

Around 10pm or so, I headed over to the Norfolk airport to anxiously await his arrival.  Since I wouldn't be getting a flower from him like you get on the pier, I headed to the Dollar Tree (before 6pm; it was Sunday after all!) and got some balloons for him instead.  And I tied them to a bottle of Gatorade to weigh them down, because balloon weights are just a waste of money.

Retired sailors are everywhere in Norfolk, and they're all super-friendly.  The lovely wife took my picture!

 This sign was right next to me.  Yea!

And now for the man of the hour!

4 flights, 28 sleepless hours, over 100 pounds of luggage, no more duty days ever(!), and 2 sissy balloons

Leaving the airport around midnight, and showing him that I'd gotten better at one-arm photography

And before you think everything is just sunshine, rainbows, and a second honeymoon, let's remember there was a reason he was sent home early instead of coming on the boat.  He dumped all 4 bags onto the living room floor when we got in last night, and started wading through it to find a clean uniform he could wear into squadron today (and his LT bars, which he got freakin' 9 months ago but never tacked on).  Then we spent the entire morning at the Personal Property Office, setting up our move and begging our landlord to extend our lease another 10 days.  Quite romantic, indeed.

The room looks slightly better now, but only thanks to the gabillion loads of laundry I've been doing.

We may not have gotten the "romance" of the pier (or him in his Whites!) this time, but I sure am glad to have him home!!

#87 thrill me, chill me, fulfill me

I can officially put a giant check mark by one of the activities on my 101 in 1001 list!

✔ 87. Go to a Rocky Horror Picture Show showing at midnight.

Well, technically it started at 11:30pm, but close enough for me!  Last night, I met up for a drink with three slightly adventurous ladies, including Elizabeth from The Young Retiree (the only one to bring a camera), and then we headed over to see this twice-monthly spectacle at the Naro in Ghent, as done by Fishnet Inc.

First of all, let me say after three years of living here, I didn't realize there were so many freaks and weirdos in Norfolk!  I felt like I was back home in Atlanta . . .  The "usual" crowd definitely was out in full force and full fishnets.  To top it off, it was apparently "Luau Night," complete with various patrons/genders in grass skirts and coconut bras.

I "lied" and purposely did not volunteer myself as a first-timer ("virgin" as they say) for seeing this show, even though I was.  I really did not feel any need to bend over, grab my ankles, and get whacked in the bum with a frat-paddle in front of a bunch of corseted screwballs.  Nor did I feel it necessary to have a giant red "V" marked on my forehead.  For those of you about to call me out for being an "old stick in the mud," I did indeed stand up and do the Time Warp dance.  So back off.

As for the actual show itself . . . umm yikes?!  According to Wikipedia, this is a "1975 British musical horror comedy/rock opera film that parodies science fiction and B-movie horror films."  That is quite a tiresome list of genres for 100 minutes of film!  The one and only time I have seen the movie was about ten years ago when it was playing on loop during Halloween week on VH1.  This movie apparently has not been very memorable to me after all of the living I've done since then, and I'm still not certain if it has a cohesive plot.  (However, I don't think that really matters to its cult followers.)

At this live showing, the movie was playing on a large screen, and in front of that the live players were acting the same stuff out like an under-funded high school drama group.  Then to top it off, there were the "aisle guys" who were standing around and shouting out innuendo-laden comments the entire time.  They were mostly in unison (many times with other seated audience members), but I could only make about half of it out.  And you couldn't hear the sound on the movie hardly at all, so it was just kinda overwhelming.  I couldn't decide what to actually pay attention to -- I felt exhausted by the sensory overload.  (Luckily, this theatre does not allow the audience to bring props or throw stuff, so I didn't have to worry about being pelted by rice in the middle of my conundrum.)  I did however hear more swear words in the course of two hours than I've heard in the last 8 years combined.

My friend who could stomach my Chicken Tikka Masala apparently could not stomach this cross-dressed absurdity for too long.  She hardly made it 20 minutes before walking out, but all she really missed was audience members (not including myself) running a few laps around the theater in their underwear.  Oh, and Susan Sarandon making the biggest mistake of her career.

 Yes, that's a dude, but he oddly reminds me of
my [female] high school principal.

he's singing this song for you

This past week, I got to do something amazing.  And not only did I get to do this amazing thing once, I got to do it AGAIN the next day.  Yes, I had the chance see and to hear the angelic voice of Michael Bublé in concert not once, but TWICE.

NOTE: This post may have some "spoilers" - so if you have tickets to his show and want to be surprised, check back later to read my review!

Basically, I entered a contest to win good seats online sponsored by Nordstrom, and to up my chances I entered for both Norfolk and Richmond.  Well, holy smokes, I won the Richmond tickets!  My friend Charlene and I had already bought "cheap seats" (Row Z, of course) tickets to the Norfolk one, which pretty much sold out two days after they went on sale.  Here are both of my tickets, and note the $0.00 above that FLR2 on the top one:

I will forever KICK MYSELF for not bringing my camera to the Richmond night.  We were in the 11th row!  Amazingly close.  I'm pretty sure that the last time I was that close at a concert, I was getting pushed around in a mosh pit by my fellow high school sophomores.  When we got to our floor seats, there was a middle-aged couple sitting next to us, and the man asked my friend Monica and I if we were gonna hoot and holler and scream when MB came on stage.  "No," I replied, "but I just might throw my panties."  His wife got quite a kick out of one of my best-timed one-liners ever.  (Note:  I did NOT actually throw my panties, but I probably could have.)

The concert started out with this FABULOUS opening act called Naturally 7.  I've seen a lot of a capella music performances in my day, but this blew them all out of the water.  They mimicked instruments flawlessly (even an electric guitar), and they pretended like they were playing them, even going so far as giving the vocal percussionist his own drum stool.  My favorite was their "bassist" - his name is Hops, and he is super skinny with a ridiculously deep voice.  He's on the far right in this shot:

As for Mr. Bublé's set . . . whew.  Well first, let me go back in time and tell you about when I started listening to this boy sing.  I was in my last semester of college, the year was 2006, and I was taking a class called Voice for the Non-Major.  It was a great class for "recreational" singers like myself.  And in that class, the professor would often play a song or two by a famous or sorta-famous singer, and then he'd have us discuss what makes that singer good and what sets them apart.  One day, he played some MB, I believe it was his cover of "Moondance" (which ended up being me and B's first dance at our wedding, btw), and what I really recall from the discussion is the fact that you can hear his PASSION through his voice.  I know that all my past choir teachers had emphasized emotion, but I never realized just how well it could be done until that day.

And that passion that I heard through the speakers of the class stereo came through ten-fold at a concert with him there live.  I guess if you were to classify him, he's a jazz singer, and he had all those fun jazz moves and a great band.  He slid down his sloped stage, he twirled his microphone, and he gave witty commentary in an accent that I can only describe as "Old Hollywood."

  And his stage looked pretty cool, too.

 One thing I really like about MB and his concerts (or "parties" as he tells the audience to think of them) is the multi-generational appeal.  Gals my age were there with their mothers, ladies could take their husbands, and at the Richmond show, a 20-something guy two rows in front of us even proposed to his girlfriend during an adorable love song called "Everything."  You just don't get that at a Hannah Montana concert, folks.

I wonder if my husband would look that good in a suit with a skinny tie?

 As any of his fans can tell you, MB just seems like that boy-next-door kind of likable guy.  I loved the excitement he has for his band.  He goes through and introduces each member to us, saying insanely funny things about each guy that are hopefully untrue for the most part.  And for being such good sports, MB gives us a chance to just hear what they can do.  Here he is enjoying a solo from his trumpeter:

A real crowd-pleasing part of the evening is when he comes out into the audience, accompanied by our new friends Naturally 7 (they back him on one of the tracks on his Crazy Love album).  He involves the entire audience in the singing of his biggest hit "Home" - a song with which I have had quite the interesting relationship.  That song got a lot of radio play during that spring of 2006 time that I first heard of MB.  During that class discussion, I remember one of my classmates explaining that he also sings the song "Home" (which I had already heard but hadn't cared for much).  I still didn't like it--it wasn't in his jazz style, it was too sappy for me, I couldn't dance to it, and I really didn't relate. 

Fast forward two years to Summer of 2008, and there I am in my car, crying to this song, thinking about my Navy boyfriend who had been deployed for three months with many more to go.  I ended up including it on my "Deployment 2008" mix CD, and have appreciated the song so much since.  I'm sure the Norfolk concert was chock-full of current and former Navy spouses, and I hope Michael and his band know just how much that song has probably meant to every single one of us.  It was definitely a more emotional experience in Norfolk than Richmond.

 Me and Charlene, both wives of deployed submariners!

For those of you who think MB will be singing you to sleep every night as your future husband, I have some bad news.  He's actually engaged to this Argentinian bombshell.  Oh well, maybe Hops is single for ya.

Each night, Michael Bublé sang his pipes off for two glorious hours, and we're all left wondering how he can even squeak a word out the next day.  And how could listening to his silky-smooth, clear, and passionate voice be anything less than awe-inspiring?  I think my personal highlight is how he ended the night - his un-miked voice, nothing else, filling the entire arena.  It'll give ya chills, folks.  So nice I loved it twice!

And even though he dropped an F-bomb (or two), he's still a class act to me.

i am not celebrating the 4th of july . . .

I am celebrating America's Independence Day! Which happens to fall on July 4, since that is the date on the Declaration of Independence.

No, we're not the only culture that does this. B's boat was actually in Norway for their Constitution Day, which Norwegians like to refer to as "Syttende mai," or 17th May.  As for the U.S., John Adams actually wrote a letter to his wife Abigail on 3 July 1776, predicting that we would be celebrating the 2nd of July.  Why?  During the American Revolution, the legal separation of the colonies from Great Britain occurred on July 2, 1776, when the Second Continental Congress voted to approve a resolution of independence that had been proposed in June.  Adams' prediction of our fanfare was mostly accurate, minus that whole date fiasco:

"The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epoch in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forever more."

Alright, Mr. Adams, let's see how we're doing:

Pomp and parade?  Head on up to our nation's capital for their annual one

Shows?  I hear there's a jazz ensemble playing down at Town Point Park

Games and sports?  An American competitive eating tradition, of course:  Nathan's Famous Fourth of July International Hot Dog Eating Contest    American Joey Chestnut FTW!

Guns, bells, bonfires, illuminations?  Let's be American and blow crap up!  Scared of drunken injuries?  We can even do it digitally!

Happy Birthday, America!  You hardly look a day over two hundred and thirty-three.

wham bam family gram

One of the most common question us submariners' wives (and fiancées and girlfriends) get asked is how we communicate with our men.  It usually goes something like this: "Can he call you from the boat?"  "Will he get letters in the mail?"  "Does he have internet?"  "What about email?"

These questions have various answers depending on what his sub is doing.  Which is generally a mystery even to us wives, but we do know when they're on mission or off or in port or not.  At best, he's in port and has access to all those modern forms of communications (snail mail sent to the boat's address gets delivered in a port).  At second best, he can send an email.  Sometimes it makes it through the ocean, sometimes not.  It's definitely not quick, and there have been quite a few emails that either he or I sent that were "lost at sea."  And then there's the worst form of communication, something I compare to blowing bubbles toward a brick wall and hoping a few of them make it to the other side: the FAMILY GRAM.

Back in the day before email, Family Grams were the only way a wife could tell her husband what was happening.  She filled out a form with no more than 50 words and either dropped it off or mailed it to someone.  Then her message was combined with other wives' messages into a larger notice that was then sent to the boat.  As for now, in this 'laptop for every child' era, we email our 50-word, all capital letters family gram message to a certain email address.  I sometimes refer to it as a "screaming tweet," but luckily it is a bit longer.  Yes, it probably gets read and screened.  This is a one-way communication--the boys can't send anything while on certain missions--so it's kind of like waving to your actor-friend on stage who can't quite acknowledge you (lest he breaks character) but hopefully hears you.  And yes, sometimes the boys never even receive them.  Sigh.

However, I will say that during the previous mission during my husband's current deployment, he may not have received all my family grams, but he did indeed  receive the most important ones.  Yes my friends, that is how he FOUND OUT HIS ORDERS!  Which is effing ridiculous, in my opinion.  But verbal orders are supposed to come from the CO - who in this case wasn't receiving anything not mission-specific.  And it was smack-dab in the middle of this rather lengthy mission that verbal orders were starting to be handed out.  So I took it upon myself to call the detailer multiple times, leaving a message including every form of communication to find me . . . and that resulted in . . . absolutely ZILCH.  No call, no email, no carrier pigeon, nada.  Why yes, I am still bitter, since you asked.

So then, enter our CO's wife, who is not only a rockstar of epic proportions, but also a saint.  And she has a contact at squadron.  Praise the Lord for connections.  She filled me in on staying in Norfolk, and I sent my "What, Norfolk again?!  I was hoping for Hawaii!" family gram to the husband.  Which he apparently received.  And then a week and a half later, my angelic CO's wife called me back and told me we'd been changed to Pensacola.  Pensacola!  I could live with that!  Back to north Florida, nice white beaches, possible Southern accents, even a new time zone.  I believe the call about this came on April 19.  April 20th, 2010, just happened to be the day the giant BP Oil Spill in the Gulf started.  I didn't mention that in my family gram about our orders change--gotta stay positive for the boys, right?  And yes, he received this one as well.  The Family Gram Fairy was on my side.

One positive I will give to family grams is that it makes life easier.  Any Navy spouse can tell you about how she obsesses over checking her email when her sweetheart is at sea.  Every time we log on, we get our hopes up, and then usually get let down.  But when we know it's not coming, we don't worry about it.  I don't forget about my husband; I just know that all is well.  And I think a lot of sub gals like to pretend that our proverbial "Navy Wife" badge is perhaps slightly bigger because of our lack of communication with the boys.  In each military community, there's a sense of pride--especially for the "who has it roughest" title.  And when the boat is gone, the wives have to defend their title with the other wives.

To that I'll say I thank God every day he's not in the Army.  I'll take my family grams over a year-long deployment to the sandbox any day.  I don't need a badge that big.

weeding out your life

In my volunteering stint with the Norfolk Botanical Garden, all I've been doing lately is weeding.  It's just that time, I guess.  I'm in the Butterfly Garden, which comes into its own on July 3 when we get all the butterflies into the house.  But outside the house in the garden grounds, many plant species are planted to attract butterflies and support their life cycle, and this needs continual weeding throughout the summer.

During my three-hour gardening assignment this morning, among the 90 degree heat and equivalent humidity, I started thinking about how weeding is a good metaphor for how we move on and overcome the bad forces in our lives.  As time goes on, certain habits, people, and even possessions crop up and start choking us.  They hold us back, sucking our energy and resources and  preventing us to truly thrive and flourish and enjoy the full life intended for us.  And come to think of it, most weeds are just plain ugly and don't mesh with the surrounding plant.

Now one thing is interesting though - our gardener sometimes tells us to leave certain weeds in the ground.  There is one in particular called milkweed, that does indeed flower, and its leaves are food for Monarch caterpillars.  We generally leave these in the beds.  It's a very interesting one because of the sap that pours out--true to its name, it really does look like milk.  I started comparing this surprisingly good weed to those things that come up suddenly in our life that we don't immediately recognize are good for us.  For some people, being laid off can feel binding at first, but then can give them the inspiration to do great things that may not have happened if they were still punching the clock.  For some stories about a few of those people whose names you'll probably recognize, check out this mental_floss article.

But for the most part, weeds are unhealthy.  They obstruct beauty and they burden support systems.  Both in nature and in life, weeds are best caught early on when they are less noticeable, their roots are shallow, and they are easy to uproot.  When I pull weeds, I generally shake off the soil at the root to return it to the garden.  That being said, we do learn from every experience, and we take those lessons and mix them with our fertile soil that lets us grow and perhaps even abound.

What weeds do you need to pull from your life right now?

all blogs need a first post

Hello world.  Since it's my first post, I suppose I should introduce myself to the blogosphere-at-large.

I'm Cat.  My initials are C.W.  There's a low-rated broadcast television station with the same initials.  My sister-in-law had the initials before me.  I got mine on October 3, 2009, the day I married my husband.

I am a military wife.  A submarine officer's wife, if you want specifics (and I generally want specifics).  So yes, I'm a milspouse.  But what does that actually mean?  I don't stand 3-section duty, eat midrats in the wardroom, sleep 6 hours at a time in a coffin bed, sit in at captain's mast, or refer to cleaning time as "field day."  I never had to cut my hair against my will, I've never had a job I couldn't quit willingly and without repercussion, I've never used blousing straps or shirt stays, and I don't have shiny gold dolphins pinned to my chest.  That's his life, not mine.  And he's deployed right now, so his life won't factor in here until later--when he (we?) starts shore tour.  Can't wait.

We have no pets, we have no babies, and we're not even starting some grand adventure like my friends in California and Italy.  The aforementioned shore tour is in Pensacola.  There are no subs in Pensacola.  There's not even a port in Pensacola.  We've been in Norfolk almost 3 years - subs and ports and shipyards everywhere I look.  I lived in Jacksonville prior to moving to Virginia, so I'm no stranger to north Florida.  I'm originally from Lawrenceville, GA, and attended the University of Georgia in Athens.

This blog is more than the story of our life.  It's my musings on just about everything.  It's my current thoughts, my future ideas, my view of past events.  It will contain things I think people should know, and links at every possible turn.  It will also contain my unapologetic opinion.  My blog, my opinion.  If you don't like it, stop reading.  I'm a knowledge junkie, a grammar nazi, a devout and zealous Catholic, a slight tomboy, a cubicle-life escapee, a former AmeriCorps member, a Soprano 2, a beach lover, a semi-picky eater, and a slightly clueless yet eager domestic goddess.  And I'm sure all of those things (and more!) will make great blog posts in due time.