On the Horizon : The City by the Bay

San Francisco, here I come!

Right back where I started from

Well, that's almost the song and that's almost true.

About a week into the New Year, G received the news we had been waiting on pins and needles to hear: where we would be transferring to next. Yes, yes, we've only been in Jersey six months. But with G's promotion to first class gunner's mate last fall, we were 99 percent sure we'd be moving again come summer 2016. Currently, he is working a GM2 job even though he is now a GM1, so it just didn't make sense for the Coast Guard to keep him here. So we sat down months ago, talked about our options, made our dream sheet with eight picks and G submitted the list. 

Of our choices, only two jobs were on boats and both we put at the bottom of the list, due to their location and the fact that they would require G to go to school first. Our top four were all on the West Coast: San Diego, San Francisco, Los Angeles and Seattle. While G and I were really pulling for our No. 1 pick — the hubs has been homesick for SD ever since we arrived in Jersey — we were lucky to have G assigned to our No. 2. He will be supervising the armory at MSST San Francisco.

At G's promotion ceremony in November.

My husband is ecstatic to be moving back to California but honestly my initial reaction was less than enthused. I am a bit sad to be leaving the NYC area so soon; I feel like there is still so much to see and do and I wish we had more time to explore. (Though, I will be doing my best to make the most of our last five months here!) I am also not looking forward to the whole packing up and moving across the country thing again. Our last two experiences were less than smooth. 

And my nervous, hesitant reaction to the SF news was made only more so when we learned that we would have to live in military housing in Alameda. There goes the dream of having a yard for the dogs, something we told each other was non-negotiable on the house hunt this time, and now we have no choice whatsoever in where we live.

OK, time for some good news. Now that I've had a few weeks to process the idea, I am able to not only recognize but actually celebrate all the positives in moving to the Bay Area.

We will be back in our home state of California. While NorCal is very different from SoCal in many respects, we are more familiar with the area than we were when we moved to St. Pete or Union City. We both have visited and vacationed in San Francisco several times and G even lived in Alameda for a couple months. And, it goes without saying, the City by the Bay is an incredibly dynamic place to live. Plenty to see and do there as well!

The biggest pro to moving back to California though is that we will be much closer to our friends and family. It will be easier and less costly for them to visit us and for us to visit them. After living 2,500+ miles away from nearly everyone we know and love, it will be wonderful to be just a short flight or a 8-hour car ride away.

G will be working a land job again, which means he won't be getting underway (at least, not on any regular basis) and will be home most of the time.

And while I am still disappointed that we won't get to choose which neighborhood we live in or have an opportunity to rent a home with a yard, living in military housing comes with many benefits. It may not be glamorous or updated, but we will never worry about whether we have enough money to pay rent and utilities; it's covered! We will likely be living much closer to San Francisco than we would have been able to if we were given BAH (basic allowance for housing) to live on the economy.  And we will be living in a community of other Coast Guard families, so making friends, connecting with other Coastie wives and participating in base- and spouse club-hosted events will be easier.

So, there is a lot to look forward to, even if leaving is bittersweet. That's military life. You're never in one place for too long! Though, our tour in San Francisco is a four-year billet, so maybe — just maybe — we can actually get settled in for longer than a year.

All San Francisco photos by Victoria Smith 

of SFGIRLBYBAY. Top & bottom, Golden Gate Bridge. 

Cherry blossoms via Refinery29. 

Breathe and Reboot

This week seemed to fly by in the blink of an eye. Actually, make that the last two weeks. Which is kind of a good thing, seeing as my Coastie hubby is still stuck with his boat in dry dock, only returning home to our new, still-unsettled apartment for all-too-quick weekend visits. (At this point, I feel like I live in New Jersey and he lives in Rhode Island.) His absence is a little more bearable when I'm busy. 

And I have been fairly busy since the movers finally delivered our stuff on the last day of June. Almost every day last week I spent knee deep in cardboard and packing paper, opening and unloading as many boxes as I could. (And, sadly, cataloging broken and damaged goods for claims forms—yippee! Military moves are FUN.) G and I then enjoyed a low-key Fourth of July weekend, with a picnic on our balcony and watching the fireworks from our apartment, before he had to travel back to RI Sunday night. 

When I awoke Monday morning I proceeded to write a laundry list of things to do in the week ahead. (Laundry not being one of them, but in hindsight it should have been on the list.) Now that it's Friday, I'm looking at those scribbled tasks and feeling like I didn't get nearly all the things I wanted to accomplished. Sure, I inventoried all the stuff we have and don't need that can be donated and set up a pickup with the Salvation Army. I researched local vets and groomers and scheduled an appointment for our furbabies to get clean. (Jasper is in desperate need of a bath and a good brushing.) And, happily, I applied to two magazine jobs—which, to be honest, commanded most of my energy and focus the last three days. 

As a result, there are still many boxes left to unpack and rooms to organize and claims forms to submit. Plus, there is so much content I have been planning to share here, including our road trip from Florida to Jersey, our first adventure into NYC, recipe and wedding posts... So stay tuned. But for now, I'm going to hit pause on my stress, pick just one more task to tackle and then be proud of what I did get done this week. 

Sometimes you just gotta breathe and reboot. And when all else fails to quell the overwhelm: Puppy snuggles. Works like a charm.

(Top image of our new doormat from Target,

bottom photo of my little unpacking helper)

Happy Fourth!

Happy Independence Day from New Jersey! While this past month has been trying, to say the least, I'm going to do my best to focus on the positives today: my husband, who has been in Rhode Island since the beginning of June, is coming home this weekend to visit. This will be his third quick trip down to Jersey and while I loathe the fact that I still don't know when his boat will be coming home from dry dock for good and resuming a more normal schedule, I'm happy that I at least get to celebrate the holiday with him, especially since up until recently that didn't look like it would be the case. I'm not sure what our plans are, if we'll go out or stay in, but I'd be fine just staying home, making dinner, sitting out on our balcony and (hopefully) catching a glimpse of a few NYC fireworks. Whatever we do, I'm just glad we'll be doing it together.

Hope you and yours have a fun and safe Fourth of July!

Bittersweet

After 13 long days in Rhode Island, my husband called me Saturday afternoon with a surprise, of sorts: He was coming home! But just for a day. A part that the ship's crew was waiting on didn't come in, so the CO (that's commanding officer, for you non-military folk) gave the guys liberty for the rest of the weekend. 

G didn't arrive in Union City until almost 7:30 Saturday night, so after catching up and taking the dogs out for a walk, all we had time for was a late dinner of just-OK Chinese take-out. (We're slowly discovering which eateries in our neighborhood are good and not-so-good.) Knowing he had to get back to the boat Sunday night to be ready for work at dawn on Monday, we tried to make the most of our short time together. In a perfect world, I would have woken up early to do so, but G kindly let me sleep in. I'm not a morning person, never have been, but while the hubs has been away I've been waking up early every day to take the dogs out. (Jasper usually starts ruffing in my ear around 6 or 6:30, sometimes earlier.) So my loving husband, who always rises with the sun, took the pups on their morning walk and let me snooze until 9. That's love. I say that jokingly, and yet with all sincerity.

Once I was ready, we headed over to—where else?!—Target, to get a few must-have items for the apartment: a shower rod and curtain so I can get clean without splashing water all over the floor, semi-sheer white curtains for the sliding glass door in our bedroom, to offer a bit more privacy, and since our apartment was less-than-pristine upon moving in, a few cleaning supplies—including a Swiffer WetJet that I truly hope lives up to the hype because these apartment floors are dirty. After our Target run, we took the mutts to the Lincoln Harbor Dog Park, which is only a short car ride away from our apartment but, unfortunately, due to a big cliff and hilly terrain is pretty impossible for me to walk to. We then took a quite detour down Washington Street, the main drag in Hoboken, to see what's there (read: to see what we're missing) and give ourselves complete real estate envy.

Finally, with the afternoon passing into the evening, my sweet hubby said all he wanted to do was spend quality time with me, sans errands. So we went out for a nice, fancy-but-casual dinner at Chart House Weehawken. Located right on the Hudson River, it boasts incredible views of the New York City skyline, inside and outside the restaurant.

The food's not too shabby, either. We had the lobster bisque to start, followed by Mac Nut mahi for him (with warm peanut sauce, mango relish, soy glaze and mashed purple sweet potato) and a slightly spicy Chilean sea bass for me (with Yukon gold mashed potatoes and a refreshing tomato-cucumber gazpacho sauce). We then sent ourselves into a full-on food coma with the hot chocolate lava cake for dessert.

Since our leisurely dinner went longer than planned, G had to hightail it out of here the moment we got home. I didn't want to say goodbye, especially not knowing when he'd be back, and instantly missed him the second he walked out the door. The dogs did, too. I had told the hubs not to make a fuss about leaving, so Jasper kept waiting (and sometimes barking) at the door for Daddy to come back. 

Being married to a military man, you know what you signed up for. He's not going to be home all the time. He's going to get deployed every so often. Fortunately with the Coast Guard, he's not gone as long as he might be with other branches of the service. But it doesn't make it any easier, especially when you are in a new city with no friends or family (and still no furniture, TV or most of your wardrobe). Not to mention I'm still kind of new to this whole military wife thing. So here's hoping it's not another two weeks before this Rhode Island dry dock business is resolved and that my man can come back home and stay for longer than a day... before getting underway, again.

I've Wanted to Be Here My Whole Life

The view from our apartment.

We arrived in our new town of Union City around 6 o’clock on June 5, exactly two weeks ago. After checking out (for the first time!) our new digs and unloading the car, we decided to take the dogs out for a much-needed long walk since they had spent the bulk of three days in a cramped backseat. Plus, we wanted to get a lay of the land and see what our new neighborhood was all about. 

We ended up running into a couple other dog owners, all friendly, who offered their knowledge of the area, including (upon my asking) exactly where to take our pups to relieve themselves in this concrete jungle. As I told one guy who called Union City the ‘burbs, this is a very urban suburbia to us native Southern Californians. No manicured sidewalks with miles of grass here. (I won’t even get into all the honking and the sirens and the general perpetual noise.) Anyway, both the couple and the man we spoke to insisted that we stroll a couple blocks thataway to JFK Boulevard East “to see what (we) moved here for.” We listened. And once we got to the Weekhawken waterfront, we were greeted with the most spectacular view of the New York City skyline, just beginning to light up the sky as the sun was setting. 

We continued walking along the path and gawking at the incredible scene just across the Hudson River, which until then I had really only seen on TV and in movies. The view seemed to get better and better as we went along, and I took another photo every couple steps. When we decided to turn back and head home—and in search of dinner—I stopped my husband first for one last look.

NYC at night, the illuminated Empire State Building taking center stage.

“Come here,” I said, motioning him to my side. “Let’s have a moment.”

I put my arm around G as we looked across the Hudson at the twinkling city lights. Moving is tough, military life can be tough, but I wanted us to have a moment where we just felt happiness and all the possibility before us.

“That’s New York City,” I said. “I’ve wanted to be here my whole life.”

And then I got all watery-eyed. I’m a sap like that. 

“My whole life” is an exaggeration to be sure, “since high school” might be more accurate, but it sure feels like I’ve waited forever. And now I’m finally here.

#####

When I wrote this post a week or so ago, before we had internet, the next sentence was an optimistic plea: "Let's make the most of it!" Even when I typed it the first time it didn't feel quite right, but I tried to trick myself into a mood of hopefulness and positivity by tapping into the feeling I had our first night in Jersey.

The truth is, our transition has not gone smoothly, and that's putting it mildly. The hubs has been in Rhode Island for 12 days and we're both still not sure when he'll be back. Each day some new problem pops up, delaying his return. And all our stuff from Florida has yet to be delivered. All our boxes hadn't even been weighed or placed on a moving truck on Monday, the estimated move-in date. So I'm still living in a mostly-empty apartment, sitting on the hardwood floor, sleeping on an air mattress, cooking with few kitchen utensils (I bought a couple cheap items at the store the other day) and growing increasingly tired of the limited clothing options I packed when we left St. Pete.

I'm actually starting to get used to the whole set-up and having my husband gone. But that doesn't make it feel any better. Except for two crazy mutts, I'm all alone in an unfamiliar place. Nevertheless, I am trying my best to regain that excited, the-world-is-your-oyster feeling, to find joy in small things and to know that there must be a light at the end of this tunnel—even if I can't quite see it yet.

Because once we're on the other side, I'm going to want to make the most of it.

View from Hamilton Park, a frequent stop on our morning and afternoon walks.

Adjusting the Sails

Life has been stressful lately, to say the least. In preparing for our big move to New Jersey, things have not gone smoothly. In fact, it seems that everything that can go wrong has gone wrong. We had major problems with the movers, problems with selling my car, problems with finding a place to live... and a few more hiccups here and there. Last week felt like one massive migraine. This week, G and I are slowly starting to turn this stormy ship we're on toward safe harbor (Coast Guard pun intended) and I am trying to be optimistic (not my strong suit) that things will truly get better soon. The movers are coming today—they're expected any minute now—and our life in our St. Pete one-bedroom apartment is half undone, waiting to be boxed up. The movers are set to return tomorrow to load everything into the truck and then the four of us, pups Jasper and Cali included, will be on our way up north. The hubs and I have plans to stop in Savannah and D.C. before we make it to Union City, our soon-to-be home base, on Friday, though we won't have too much time to explore. But I'm hoping to make the most of our mini-road trip, and hoping that we'll feel happy and relaxed by the time we get to the Garden State.

(Louisa May Alcott quote print 

by Lisa Congdon)

Real Estate Wishes (and Reality Checks)

After months of waiting for an answer, we finally found out about two weeks ago that we were released from military housing when we move to New Jersey at the end of May. It's good news. It's what we wanted. We won't have to live in an apartment on Staten Island. But it's scary good news, because it means the pressure is on to find a place to live before G has to report for work June 8. The hubs has been looking at rental listings online since last fall, and now that it's closer to go time I've been looking, too. But, per usual with this military life, I'm realizing that we are going to have to make a lot of compromises, some sacrifices, in this house hunt. We got what we wanted, in terms of getting out of being forced to live in Sector New York's military housing, but we likely will not get exactly what we want in our next home.

Here's our wish list: 

• Single-family house, duplex or town home. (We are trying to get away from apartment-style living.) After a year in 750-square-foot apartment, we're hoping for 1,000-square-feet.
• At least two bedrooms (one for an office) and one bathroom, though two would be preferable.
• Walkable neighborhood, close to shops, restaurants, bars and parks. Hoboken would be ideal but likely out of our budget, so we're also searching in Jersey City, Weehawken and Union City, as well parts of Brooklyn.
• A home with a yard, even if it's a small one, for the dogs. This is why apartments and condos don't work.
• Windows! I don't need a view but I do need natural light. I'm tired having just a couple windows on just one side of the building, another reason we are trying to avoid apartments and condos. 
• Large, clean (if not updated) kitchen with plenty of counter space and storage. We love to cook and we have a lot of kitchen tools and dining pieces.
• Large master closet. We're bursting at the seams with our humble walk-in closet now and I still have a box of clothes that I never unpacked when we moved in last June!
• Plenty of storage. We had to rent a 10x10 storage unit when we moved from our two-bed, two-bath condo in San Diego to our one-bed, one-bath St. Pete apartment. It's an expense we don't want to carry to Jersey. 

As you can see, we have quite the extensive wish list (but not an overly generous budget), which is why I know we are going to have to compromise somewhere along the way. We've already done a lot of searching and found nothing that checks all the boxes, and our favorites get snapped up right away. (That real estate game is fierce!) We even reached out to a New Jersey realtor last week and he basically came back saying, in so many words, that we couldn't afford to live in our preferred areas, even though we've casted a wide net in that regard. (He then proceeded to send us listings upwards of $3,000/month. Safe to say we won't continue using his services.)

While we are not buying our first home, this rental house hunt feels just as important. We moved to St. Petersburg right after we got married, so even though we lived together for a year in G's San Diego condo, Florida was going to be our first married home, the first place we got together. The apartment we are in now was supposed to be temporary, which is why we were OK with just one bedroom and one bathroom. But then we found out we wouldn't be staying in St. Pete for three years after all, so we nixed plans to move into something bigger and better and stayed in our transitional living situation. This move to New Jersey feels like our second chance at that "first married home," since we should (fingers crossed) actually be staying in the Garden State for three years.

Our decision also feels important because, if I get my greatest wish, we will be starting a family soon. The home we decide to rent then is where we will have a baby, our child's first home. Maybe I'm putting too much thought into it, but hey, I'm a (emotional, hormonal) woman. I can't help but think of these things and consider the future. 

As discouraging as house hunting can be, whether you're renting or buying, we'll keep on searching because, well, we need somewhere to live! The hardest part really will be that compromise bit. We probably won't find a place in a hip neighborhood with a yard (it's looking bleak), an updated kitchen and two bathrooms. So G and I are going to have to figure out what our priorities are and what we're willing to sacrifice—and hopefully we're on the same page!

Ah, the joys of moving, of marriage, and of military life.

I'll be happy not to have to move again for three years. To stay in one place, for a little while.

(Watercolor New York by Stamen Design 

and Balloons (Midtown, Manhattan) 

by Youngna Park via 20x200)

Oh, Baby

Yesterday, the hubs and I went to a casual house party to watch the Super Bowl, but at the end of the night, after the New England Patriots beat the Seattle Seahawks, I realized that I had spent all of five minutes max actually watching the game. While at first the men and women were mixing and mingling together, inevitably the boys congregated in one room to watch the game (around the smaller TV, funny enough) and the gals lounged on the couch to chat.

Most of the ladies were knew to me—wives of Coasties that G works with at Sector St. Pete. The moment I walked into the home, an adorable 2-year-old girl grabbed me by the hem of my dress and started leading me around, speaking in almost indecipherable baby talk. I quickly learned that her mother (who is five years younger than me) is seven months pregnant with baby No. 2. The sweet blonde toddler then took me by the hand and led me to meet another party guest, who just gave birth to a baby girl eight weeks ago. A little while later, another couple joined the party and I discovered that the wife is two months pregnant.

So, given the ladies assembled, it is no surprise that our attention veered far away from football and our conversation centered around pregnancy, babies and motherhood. (And I surprised everyone with all my strange-things-that-happen-during-pregnancy knowledge. Thanks, mommy blogs!) While there was one other lady there who hasn't given birth and isn't currently knocked up, she has decided that she doesn't want to have kids. I, on the other hand, couldn't feel more differently. 

As a young girl, I always thought I'd have kids by now. But isn't that always how it is? I also thought I'd get married earlier than I did. I know it's not a race, it's not a competition, there's no right or wrong timeline. But with my 30th birthday two months away, my desire to get pregnant sooner than later is stronger than ever. I feel like I have been in a perpetual state of baby fever since G and I tied the knot. I think about boy and girl names, I have way too much fun picking out newborn clothes and gifts for my mama friends, and my heart aches a little when I see a tiny babe, a baby bump or even a "we're expecting!" announcement. (My Facebook feed is full of cute baby pictures, sonogram images and belly shots.)

Of course, like so many other things in my life, this is a situation for which I am not in total control. Due to our travel plans this spring, we initially had to put trying for a baby on hold. While our goal, as newlyweds, was to be pregnant by the end of 2014, our hope now is to have happy news to share this year. Nevertheless, remember that woman I told you about, that just gave birth eight weeks ago? She shared with me that it took her and her husband a year and a half of trying before getting pregnant. Plus, since her husband is assigned to a boat that gets underway for two months at a time, she often flies home to Ohio to be around friends and family who can help with caring for her newborn. So no matter what I hope, dream and plan for, I realize that I will just need to practice patience. And trust in the timing of my life, of my and G's life. It's our story, no one else's, and the baby chapter will come when ... well, I don't know when. Until then, I'll do my best to enjoy this time of my life, right now.

But I'll still dream up and write down new, favorite baby names. I've been doing that since elementary school and there's just no breaking that habit (no matter how many times G vetoes my ideas!).

Any ladies out there that can relate to my struggle? Knowing you need to enjoy the stage of life you're in and not compare yourself to (or wish you had) others' lives?

P.S. This is a good reminder for myself today.

(Dreamcatcher Mobile "Grace" 

by The Big Sky Place)

Blurred Horizons

Sometimes I pretend the future doesn't exist. Even though I know what is coming up down the road, I like to push that knowledge into the recesses of my mind, ignore the mile markers as they pass, and give myself a temporary blind spot. Sometimes I don't want to think about the changes that may lie ahead, the potential problems, until they are no longer on the horizon but right in front of me, staring me squarely in the face, and won't let me pass.

Of course, I know this is juvenile and not beneficial in the slightest. Pretending things, challenges, don't exist doesn't usually work, not for long anyway. So I have to think about it. I have to remove the blind spot.

When I posted in October about the hubs and I making another big move in May/June 2015, I was excited about all the possibilities on the horizon. But that thrilling anticipation of what may be next slowly shriveled up and left a more familiar emotion: uncertainty, which I vaguely revealed here and here, with a bit of hopeful optimism.

Now, when people ask me about New Jersey and New York—like, where are we going to live, have I looked into the job market, what fun things to do plan to do—I answer with a tinge of sadness because I don't have all the answers, and I don't even believe the things I hope for will actually come to fruition.

We picked Bayonne, New Jersey as our next port-of-call for me. Because of it's proximity to New York, the place I've always dreamed of living and working. Of making it big (or, perhaps more realistically, just making it as a teeny-tiny fish) in the magazine world. We had come to St. Pete because that is what G wanted, for his Coast Guard career, and he got his first pick but it didn't turn out as planned. So when it came to deciding where to go next, and after a lot of talking and debating the pros and cons, we ultimately chose a location that would put my dreams within reach while also allowing G to get off land and back on a boat.

But as I've learned, nothing with the military is as it seems. Things don't always go as planned or promised, as those plans and promises can change in the blink of an eye.

We are still moving to Bayonne in May or June. But we have no idea where we are going to live. Thanks to a new USCG rule, we will have to live on base if housing is available. G applied, as required, only to find out that we won't find out until April if we will be forced to live in military housing. We chose Bayonne as the place for G to work, but never intended on living there. But we may have to. And while the hubs loves researching the real estate market and I always tell him it's too soon, now it really does seem like a pointless endeavor.

But there's an even bigger issue at play. Not long after making our moving announcement, the hubs learned that the boat he is slated for, the Sitkinak, is actually home-ported in Sandy Hook, almost an hour-and-a-half drive south from Bayonne, and even farther from Manhattan. After Hurricane Sandy severely damaged the Coast Guard base at Sandy Hook, the Sitkinak was relocated to Bayonne, a fact we were unaware of. Now, the USCG has plans in the works to rebuild at Sandy Hook and we learned that G's boat could be moved back as early as 2016.

This was upsetting news for many reasons. First, it was just weeks after getting married that we moved all the way across the country, from California to Florida. The plan was that we would be in St. Pete for three years, but that is no longer happening. So the idea of moving somewhere else, only to have to move again a year later, is frustrating to say the least.

Second, Sandy Hook isn't exactly close to Manhattan. We never would have picked Sandy Hook if we had seen it listed on the early sea solicitation list. And we only picked Bayonne because it was a hop, skip and a jump away from NYC. So the idea of being shifted to Sandy Hook feels like my Big Apple dreams, our dreams, are being crushed.

I'm holding onto a shred of hope that rebuilding Sandy Hook, like with anything the government plans to do, will take exceedingly longer to accomplish than they say it will. If the rehab does go according to schedule, there's always the option of G commuting to Sandy Hook from, well, wherever it is we are living.

See, these are the kinds of things I don't like to think about. The stuff I don't want to exist. It's so much easier to focus on making the most of our time left in St. Pete than to draw up plans (A, B and C) for how we will handle what's coming down the road. But the future always becomes the present faster than we would like, so I know I can't ignore it forever.

I don't have all, or any of, the answers, nor do I have a sweet ending that can tie up this post with an optimistic and hopeful bow. Sometimes you just have to feel the reality of your situation and accept that you have no control. That last part has been a hard lesson for this still-new military wife to learn, and no matter how many times I've been faced with that clear and simple fact, I'm still learning it. When it comes to this military life, there are no guarantees.

(Central Park and 

West Nineteenth Street (Yellow Dress) 

by Joseph O. Holmes via 20x200)

Wrapped Up in Love

Merry Christmas Eve! Part of me is feeling like I can't believe the holidays are really here, they seem like they came so quickly. (But isn't that always how it feels?) And yet, so much has happened this year, from planning a wedding, to getting married, to moving across the country. As much as I wish I could be home for Christmas, I'm so glad that I have G by my side to celebrate with; this, our first married Christmas. They say "all you need is love" and that seems especially true at the holidays. Of all the things we want and wish for, the best gift is to be surrounded by love. No matter where the Coast Guard takes us, no matter how far from "home" we are, my husband, my love, is my home, my heart, and the one I want to spend all my Christmases with. I hope that whatever you are doing, wherever you are, that you are wrapped up in love this Christmas.

This Christmas

It's funny, I was sure we'd be spending our first married Christmas the same way we spent our first married Thanksgiving: as just us two. And I was (pretty much) fine with that. I accepted that we wouldn't be going to any holiday parties, that we wouldn't get to see our family and friends open their gifts, that we'd have a quiet Christmas Eve dinner. But in the span of just a couple days last week, our plans changed. The hubs and I don't have many friends here, but the ones we do graciously extended invitations for us to join them in their celebrations. So! Tomorrow's plan is to attend an afternoon service at this Tampa church before heading over to Jen (of Letters & Pearls) and Matthew's house for Christmas Eve dinner. (I'm still debating what dish we should bring.) On Christmas Day, we'll wake up, have breakfast (I'm thinking of making these easy blueberry muffins, since that's what my mom always makes), and do our own gift exchange. Then I will attempt to make Risalamande, a cold and creamy rice pudding dish served with a fruit sauce (raspberry for us) that is the quintessential Danish Christmas dessert that I grew up eating every year. My mom sent me her recipe, and I hope I don't mess up! Because we'll be taking it over to fellow Coast Guard couple Laura and Jeremy's house (Jeremy is G's current supervisor) to share with them and some of their family. While I had asked G weeks ago about what he wanted to make for dinner on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, and we had planned out what we would do, I'm glad that our plans changed. It will be nice to spend the holidays outside of our cramped apartment, with other people, sharing the joy of the season and traditions old and new. And we'll definitely have less dishes to clean :)

While this doesn't seem to always be the case lately, I'm glad to know that, if you have an open heart, sometimes things do work out better than you imagined.

A Coffee Date

Today I had the joy of meeting face-to-face with a new blogger friend, Jen of Letters & Pearls. After about six weeks of getting to know each other via our blogs and Instagram, we decided to meet for coffee at what is veritably Tampa Bay's best gathering place, the Oxford Exchange (which I blogged about before here and here, and Jen wrote about here after visiting on my recommendation!). Since moving from California to St. Pete six months ago, I haven't had the opportunity to make many new friends, so it's been absolutely lovely to start building a friendship with another like-minded gal who gets the ups and downs of military life, and an even bigger pleasure to actually meet in person. Jen is warm, down to earth, and easy to talk to—just as sweet as can be. And super stylish, too! (We both share an affinity for booties, so I wore my new ones for our date.) We joked prior to our meeting that we'd probably be so busy taking photos of the beautiful surroundings at OE that we'd be too distracted to really talk. But the opposite happened! Instead, we were so busy chatting, swapping stories about our hubbies (good ones!) and life as military wives, that I only had a chance to snap the above photo of my vanilla latte (that's a large, gorgeous skylight reflecting off the table). So while I don't have much eye candy to post, I'd say our meeting was a success. Today exemplified, for me anyway, the best part about blogging: connecting with people—and often, kindred spirits—you otherwise may never have met. I'm looking forward to more coffee dates (and wine nights!) in the future.

Settling for Unsettled for Now

"The world is too big to stay in one place and life too short to do just one thing."

A romantic notion. And true, even though there are some people who do manage to stay, relatively, in one place and do, generally, one thing, career wise. One place and one thing may be happiness for some, misery for others. I'd normally tend toward exploring, dabbling, learning and growing. And yet, part of me finds myself resisting this romantic, free-spirited thought, what I'd call an adventurer's motto. A large part of me finds myself longing to feel settled, especially at a time when shadows of doubt are being cast upon next year's big plans. Just when I start getting used to the idea of moving again, and allowing myself to feel some excitement about the possibilities that may await, someone, something, comes and pulls the rug of stability out from under me once again. Nothing is certain. Things going the way we anticipate or things going awry. I can't even count on being disappointed, if that makes sense. Everything is up in the air. Unsettled. Just like me. I know I need to embrace this shallow-roots lifestyle because it will be our life for the next, oh, 12 years. We will be moving every three years and, as recent history has shown, perhaps more often. I can't count on where the military will send us but I can count on that. But man, would it be nice to go somewhere and stay long enough to want to paint the walls, unpack all the boxes, develop roots without fear or worry of having to tear them up right when buds begin to sprout. 

Yes, how nice it would be to do one thing in one place for a little while.

(Image via Free People)

Floating Along

Stumbled upon this while browsing Pinterest and fell in love with it, not just for the image but the words. As I read them, they struck me sharp, like an arrow through the heart, capturing exactly how I feel, the place I am at, in my life.

“I have come to accept the feeling of not knowing where I am going. And I have trained myself to love it. Because it is only when we are suspended in mid-air with no landing in sight, that we force our wings to unravel and alas begin our flight. And as we fly, we still may not know where we are going to. But the miracle is in the unfolding of the wings. You may not know where you're going, but you know that so long as you spread your wings, the winds will carry you.” ― C. JoyBell C.

These few lines describe my uneasy, precarious location so beautifully, that it got me thinking: Perhaps it is not so scary after all. Maybe its a lovely opportunity, a glorious flight, to just let the wind take me, unsure of where I'll settle. Maybe I just need to unfold my wings and enjoy the view.

(Photo by Grace Adams, via Between Studio)

On Thanksgiving Traditions

Like many people, I've been thinking a lot about Thanksgiving the past couple weeks. It started out with excitement. I sat down with G and planned out our menu, what dishes we love and had to have. It ended up being quite the dinner for two average-sized people. But I figured, it's Thanksgiving, the national eat-all-you-can-eat holiday, so what the heck? We'll roast the bird, whip the spuds, and make six more side dishes. Plus pie. You can't forget the pie.

But the closer we get to the day, now only a week away, the more the excitement has given way to what was hiding underneath all those plans: a bit of sadness and a tinge of loneliness.

*****

This will be our first holiday as a married couple and it will be just the two of us. Our families and friends are not coming out to visit, and neither are we hopping on a plane to the West Coast. It simply isn't practical or feasible financially. At first I relished the thought of Thanksgiving (and Christmas) being just the two of us this year. No family drama to contend with. No deciding whose house to go to. The holidays would be quiet, intimate and special. We would start our own traditions, together, as husband and wife.

Growing up, G (who is an only child) and his parents often spent Thanksgiving at a relative's home, where the food and the activities of the day varied (sometimes greatly) from year to year. So as a result, he doesn't feel like he has a specific set of traditions that are important or meaningful to him to carry on. I, on the other hand, do. Though, I sort of grew up with two different holiday season experiences.

When I was very young, my extended family used to all gather at my maternal grandfather's house. A long table, probably 20-feet, would be set up for all of us. My mom, always a frazzled mess in the kitchen, would do much of the cooking, with some help (good and bad) from her brothers and sister. My paternal grandmother, Grandmama, would bring her chocolate pie, which I absolutely loved of course. It was like chocolate pudding in a crumbly graham-cracker crust. What's not for a kid to love? Once dinner was ready, all the adults would sit down at the world's longest table while us youngsters had our meal at the children's table in the kitchen, listening in through the wall as the grown-ups talked, invariably getting into some kind of argument, which is bound to happen when large families with large personalities come together. Those were the Thanksgivings of my childhood. Trade out all varieties of pie for rice pudding, add some carols and dancing around the Christmas tree while holding hands (seriously), and that was my Christmas.

But death changed things over the years. Grandmama went first, then my grandfather, whose home brought us all together. Our large family gatherings turned into small dinners with my immediate family, and sometimes my favorite uncle, at our home. When my older brother died the holiday dinners got even smaller, and much sadder for a time. Those were the Thanksgivings and Christmases of my teenage and college years.

It sounds depressing, and it is in some ways, but nevertheless I find myself wishing I could be home for the holidays. There were a couple years where I didn't spend Thanksgiving, or Christmas, with my family but instead with a boyfriend's family. But even then there was still the option of going home, or stopping by for a few hours. This year that option isn't there. And it likely will not be an option in many of the years to come.

I've always done my best to be home for the holidays because I hate the thought of my mom, my dad and my younger brother just sitting around the table by themselves. Perhaps it is a stupid and self-important thought but sometimes I feel like I'm my family's "glue." On holidays I help in the kitchen. At the table, they turn to me to say grace. My younger brother and my parents have not always had the best relationship, though it is getting better, and he can be quiet morose on holidays (he doesn't appreciate the expectation to pretend like everything is happy and perfect when he feels the opposite, and I don't really blame him). I'm not sure he is even going to go home for Thanksgiving, even though he lives just 20 minutes away. He may have to work or he just may not go, for the above stated reasons. So then it would just be my mom and my dad. Kind of like how it will be here. Just the two of us.

*****

The plan for this post was to talk about Thanksgiving traditions. Keeping old ones, starting new ones. Instead I find myself clinging onto the old, even when the past was far from perfect. It's funny how distance can make you miss the things you didn't even know you cherished. Life is forcing me to change, to let go, and I'm a bit unwilling.

I'm hoping this purging of my thoughts and emotions will help with that letting go part, and let me get back to what I was feeling a few weeks ago: excitement. 

Initially, I told G that I wanted us to roast a turkey, a whole one, but yesterday I cooly informed him it was silly to spend the time and money (we'd need to buy a roasting pan and rack) doing something we have no idea how to do, only to be left with way more leftovers than we probably can handle. So now the plan is to simply make a turkey breast. And, having thought about it a little more, I'm OK with that. I actually like the idea of saving the big roasting of the turkey for when we do host a Thanksgiving dinner for family or friends or both, or when we have a little one whose eyes will widen at the sight.

We'll still make most of those side dishes. Mashed potatoes and stuffing are a given, but I also must have my mom's sweet potato puree and G loves green bean casserole. And we'll shove all the pies we're accustomed to having (apple, pumpkin and pecan) into one with this crazy recipe. Maybe it will be our new favorite, and a new tradition.

In the meantime, until next Thursday, I'm going to cut myself some slack. Our first Thanksgiving doesn't have to be an extravaganza. Small can still be special, and whatever we do this year does not need to be repeated forevermore. The best traditions often come about slowly and by accident, without even realizing a tradition has been made. And new traditions will be added throughout the years, as life changes-- because it certainly always does.

(Top image via The Kitchn, bottom photo from our engagement session, by heidi-o-photo)

On the Horizon : Jersey Girl & Manhattan Dreams

So, a little announcement today. I won't bury the lede. If the map didn't make it abundantly clear: The hubs and I are going to be moving. Again. Yes, we only arrived in St. Pete five months ago, and we were slated to be here for three years, but we'll be picking up and moving north to New Jersey next May or June. When Uncle Sam says go, you gotta go. That's military life.

Now, let me explain.

When we found out last October that we would be moving to St. Petersburg, Florida, right after our wedding, G was thrilled. It was his top pick (mine was Boston), we had heard nothing but great things about St. Pete, and my gunner's mate husband was excited to be going back to a boat after three years at a land job.

But not long after G began working on Coast Guard Cutter Ocracoke in July, he learned that the boat was going to be transferred to another crew, in Portland, Maine, at the end of October. Of course, we had no idea that was going to happen. The detailer that sent him, us, to St. Pete didn't know either, or else he wouldn't have assigned G to the Ocracoke. One would think that a detailer would know if a boat is set to be transferred or decommissioned, but that is not always the case. Again, that's military life.

We were a bit upset by the news, to say the least. We had just packed up our whole lives, said goodbye to friends and family, to move across the country for a tour in St. Pete. Suddenly, all our plans changed. That job G had looked forward to was being snatched away. With no new boat coming to replace the Ocracoke, he would have to go back to a land job, working in the armory like he did in San Diego. We had signed a seven-month lease for a one-bedroom apartment and rented a storage unit with the intention of settling into something different after getting the lay of the land. Had we known we'd only be here a year, we would have rented a two-bedroom place, had more space and not thrown a considerable amount of money each month into keeping a large storage unit.

All this, coupled with the summer's oppressively hot and humid weather and my difficulties finding a journalism job, made us feel defeated. St. Pete wasn't working out for us. It definitely wasn't what we thought it would be.

Lesson learned: Things rarely turn out like you think they will. Sometimes it's better, sometimes worse. Expect the unexpected, and embrace it.

So that's what we did. After the initial shock wore off, we shifted our perspective. G losing his boat could be a win. The chance to pick another adventure.

G printed out the list of available boats and brought it home to discuss. Initially, he was interested in going to Miami, where new, super-fast, state-of-the-art FRCs (fast response cutters) were scheduled to come online. I wasn't as thrilled by the idea of moving to Miami, and since the Ocracoke gig wasn't what G thought it would be-- he had hoped to be working drug interdiction cases-- I urged him to research the Miami jobs. In doing so, he discovered that the Miami crews almost exclusively work migrant cases, something G isn't all that interested in. And while I told the hubs that I would support going to Miami in order for him to work on the latest, greatest cutter, I started to have misgivings, secretly wishing he would consider a place I never thought I'd want to live:

New Jersey.

One of the locales on that "early sea solicitation" list was Bayonne. And while the largely industrial city is certainly not the prettiest or hippest place to live, it is just about 30 minutes outside Manhattan.

It has always been my dream to live and work in New York City. I have never been to the Big Apple, and I'm sure my "Sex and the City" fantasies will quickly be shattered once I get there, but there is no question that it is the hub of journalism in America. G knows all this and said before we got married that if there was ever a way to make my dream come true, he would pursue it. Bayonne seems like that chance, and I didn't want it to slip through my fingers. We don't know where the Coast Guard will send us in the future, and the opportunity to live in or close to NYC may never come around again.

For G, being on a boat was the most important thing. He wants his Cutterman's pin, a symbol of having achieved five years total sea time-- a status he would have earned had his tour on the Ocracoke not been drastically cut short. G is determined to get his pin, and he can get it, working on the Sitkinak in Bayonne.

So after much discussion and consideration, G submitted his assignment preferences to the detailer. He put Bayonne as his No. 1 pick, and Gloucester (a town just outside Boston) as his second choice. On Monday he officially received orders: We're going to Bayonne.

We've known for several weeks that G was slated for New Jersey but given all that has happened the last few months, we wanted to be totally sure (orders in hand) before making any kind of announcement. We still have seven months here in St. Pete. Even though the Ocracoke had its change of command last week, we won't move until the transfer season, next summer. So there's still plenty of time to explore Florida and we have a couple months at least before we need to start planning for our next big move.

Still, it's exciting to know, for sure, what is on the horizon and the new possibilities the future holds. This Cali girl is staying on the East Coast for a while longer. I doubt I'll turn into Jersey girl (or a Jersey Shore girl, for that matter). But maybe, just maybe, my cosmo-sipping, city-living, Carrie Bradshaw-channeling Manhattan dreams will come true.

(Sitkinak photos 1 & 2 by Patti Sapone/The Star-Ledger, via NJ.com)

On Emotions

"Turn everything off and listen to yourself."

For me, that means staring at a blank document, wondering what to write, knowing but then wondering how and if I should. But I force my fingers to type because, when I do, inevitably my feelings start pouring out. So here it is:

This week has been a little lonely.

Lonely is how I have felt often since moving to Florida. But this week the emotion stung sharper since my Coast Guard husband is underway. It's his second time getting underway here, on his boat in St. Petersburg, but the first time only lasted a couple days due to engine trouble. This time the boat is working fine. He's been gone since Monday and won't be coming back for a few more days.

Back in San Diego, when we started dating, GT was working in a land job, so I haven't had much experience with him getting underway. He was temporarily assigned to a boat for about two months last summer, but it didn't take him from home more than once, maybe twice, and not for long. He was in Charleston, South Carolina, for six weeks last fall, training to become a boarding officer. He missed our two-year dating anniversary (Oct. 29) but was back just in time for Thanksgiving. At the time I thankfully had a job to distract me from his absence, not to mention I was in the throes of planning a wedding.

It's something I have to get used to, him being gone from time to time. That's the life of a military wife. I know I have it easy, too. Some people's spouses are gone for months, a year, at a time. Later in his career, GT may be gone for a month or two or three, depending on the boat. I don't even want to think about what it will be like when we have kids. But I'm not going to apologize or minimize my feelings. I'm lonely. Right now. And it's not just because he is underway. The emotion is most certainly compounded by my current jobless and friendless state.

GT was able to call me this morning on a break. When he told me he wouldn't be home for three more days, I felt tears threatening to fall. I felt stupid; stupid for being so emotional. He said he and the crew would have liberty tonight and tomorrow, and that they were going to go out to blow off some steam. Jealousy crept in, mixing with loneliness. I proceeded to tell him how I got ready yesterday—put on makeup, and clothes you can't sleep in—to go pay a bill he forgot to take care of before he left, and when I got in my car I noticed a warning light glowing on the dash. The low-tire-pressure light. I got out, checked the tires and the light was right, all four looked saggy, in my non-expert opinion. Normally, I'd risk it since I just had to drive five minutes down the road but then it occurred to me: If my tire does blow and I get stuck on the side of the road with a flat, then what? I have no friends, no family, to call to come help me. So I turned the engine off. Now, staying in the apartment wasn't a choice. I was stuck. 

Yep, I'm an expert at making myself feel more lonely.

Anyway, I've been trying to keep my mind and body busy, to pass the time productively, but my spirits are still a little low—like my tires. I've always be a firm believer that to be happy you have to actively choose joy. That you are responsible for your own happiness. 

But man, choosing joy can be hard work to do.

(Listen to Yourself image and Choose Joy image via the Year of Lettering)