Breakfast of Champions

I don't know who started it, probably my maternal grandmother considering her insatiable appetite for sweets at any time of the day, but cake & coffee (or chocolate milk in my decaffeinated days) has always been an acceptable breakfast. Pie is a decent substitute but there was always more cake than pie when I was growing up. Whenever our family gathered for a birthday (which seemed to happen about 3 times a year as the birthdays were unintentionally clustered into March, September and October), you could bet that everyone would finish the cake the morning after the party.

I think my husband was justifiably appalled by this when he married into the family, especially considering our family dies from diabetes and cardiovascular disease. You would think we would always have veggie omelettes and turkey bacon, but no...the sweet tooth gene is alive and well (and has been passed down yet again).

It has been awhile since I had cake & coffee for breakfast, but this is a special cake from some truly exceptional folks.

Yesterday afternoon, a group of families from our children's missions group at church gave us a going away party, complete with yummy food (I may have declared to Blue at one point, "THIS is dinner! Eat it or starve later!"), thoughtful gifts and delightful conversation. For 4 hours we gathered, shared a meal and swapped stories about our children, home ownership and how we came to be Moravians. The kids, being hearty Pennsylvanian stock (our own son could now pass for a native) played outside, although the wind chill had to be below freezing. And the littlest of our crew toddled around our feet or sat in laps while we chatted.

It was the warmest I've felt since the last days of summer.

When Neal was assigned to a National Guard post with no on-post housing and very few active duty families nearby, I...well...I had what my friend, Carrie, calls a complete come-apart. I came unglued, unhinged, consumed by the idea that I wasn't going to make any friends because we were going into a place where everyone had known each other for a hundred years and one new, transient face was never going to break through the ice.

And for about 6 months, I wasn't wrong.

But it had everything to do with my attitude.

I assumed these people would have no interest in me, so I had no interest in them. Consequently, they had no interest in me. But I was lonely and Blue was, too. We had gone from being completely immersed in Army life and engaging daily (sometimes multiple times a day) with our neighbors and friends as we passed each other on the street or chatted at the playground or met for coffee after our morning workout to a civilian suburban life where we would see 1 or 2 kids on bikes after school and a parent or 2 checking the mail before closing the garage door behind them.  In Kansas, we lived in barracks that had been renovated into spacious apartments so, we were, literally, on top of each other. We sometimes disagreed and there was occasional drama, but we had become a tribe, more than that...a family. We all cried when it was time to leave. We had become completely enmeshed in each other's lives.

And then we scattered...to Korea, Texas, Louisiana, Germany, Florida and Pennsylvania. It was devastating and I wanted to quit all of this. It was too hard, too emotionally draining. I can deal with finding a new dentist, new doctor, new school, new everything every 24 months. But finding new friends was too much to ask. I almost asked Neal if we could just be done.

But if I had, we would have never found our Pennsylvania family. And I can't imagine my life without these people in it. Not just our church family, but our neighbors and friends we've met along the way. I think about the night of my birthday last year when we gathered with neighbors in the backyard for a potluck dinner and to watch Captain Underpants (I let Blue pick my birthday movie. I'll know better for next year.) on the big screen. And driving a carload of kids to the Farm Show every January to see the chicks hatch in front of our eyes and the just-born calves struggle to their feet for the first time. And to drink our weight in PA Dairy Association milkshakes. And the epic pre-trick-or-treating party our neighbors throw every Halloween night. Last year they had 3 tables full of food and inflatable party decorations.

And I think about all of the mission work we've been able to participate in through the children's missions program at the church: decorating pumpkins and passing out valentines at the nursing home, crafting gifts for the Father's Day worship service, gathering and packing supplies to send to Soldiers deployed overseas, preparing the Lenten meal for a Wednesday night service. These children are learning from their parents and their church how to serve others and I feel lucky and blessed that we've been a part of that. What if I had given up after Kansas? Look at all we would have missed.

Palm Sunday. We had obviously temporarily lost our minds when we sat down with all of the kids between us. I mean...what could go wrong? 

This is just a few from the hoards of photos I have from the past 2 years...favorite teachers, city parades (PA loves a good parade), church services on the front lawn, trick-or-treating in the neighborhood and a little of what makes our church unique. And not a single person in these photos is in the military. They were just living their lives, going to church and soccer games and swim lessons. And then we showed up. Strangers. Gypsies. Temporary. They loved us anyway. 

They knew we couldn't stay. They loved us anyway.

They knew the goodbyes would be hard. They loved us anyway.

They didn't know our story, where we came from, what kind of friends we would be. They loved us anyway. 

They knew nothing about military families or what our lives are like. They loved us anyway. 

They don't know if we'll ever be back. (We will.) They loved us anyway. 

Whenever I meet a new military spouse, I tell him/her, "You will get out of it exactly what you put into it." That's true for most things in life. But taking the time to engage with your community and its culture can seem like an unnecessary burden when you are always the new family. What's the point? And it's easy to assume that they are thinking the same thing. But what if they aren't? What if you enrich each other's lives; you help them to understand the sacrifices that a military family makes and they help you to understand what makes their community so vibrant and distinct? What if you are looking for a church and end up finding a family? It is often said that it takes a village and we must not be afraid to ask our neighbors and our friends to be our village when we have moved so far from family. Every military spouse knows that finding your tribe when you live on post or on base happens fairly easily and quickly. But finding them in a civilian setting feels overwhelming and pointless. I'm here to tell you it can happen and that it's worth trying. 

And to everyone who has taken us in, shared a meal with us, come over for a chat or welcomed us into their circle, thank you. Thank you for loving us anyway. It is, by far, the best way to support military families. And it makes us want to continue doing what we're doing. Even though we have to say good-bye, we are grateful for every memory and the chance that when we meet again, it is as friends instead of strangers. Until next time....

What To Do With a Problem Like Anonymous

via

I was going to let this slide because what should not be rewarded is bad behavior....contrary to the belief of many Girls Behaving Badly producers. But it was so sadly hysterical that I have to share. I want everyone else to feel the love, too....or the serious lack thereof. I got this from an Anonymous Commenter on The Death of Champagne Fridays:

Wow. It takes a really "special" kind of person to twist her husband's job loss into something that's all about her...Why is it YOU got drunk and angry instead of supportive and comforting? Can't you get a job for awhile?
(I put it in poopy brown....hehehehe...yes, I'm 12. Thanks for noticing).

So, I feel like I have just completed the final stage of being a 100 blogger (Thanks, Jessalyn). I've gained followers, lost followers, published guest posts, and now received a ridiculously negative anonymous comment. I will not waste my time or yours on all 48236792 reasons why this comment is absurd. If the reader even bothered to scan back past March 19th, he/she/ChickenLittle would see that I support Neal 150% everyday. And that is evident. Or it should be. If it's not, I seriously doubt it is anyone's responsibility to judge me on that. My day will come, don't you worry.

I've written, deleted, re-written, deleted and finally written again the next part because what spilled forth originally was vomit of the ego. My first reaction was to be mad...then hurt...then misunderstood (like Van Gogh). So, I left this to sit in the queue for an hour while I went to run my 4 miles and think about what I really wanted to say. And what I decided is that as I get older, I'm learning an important lesson...you never know where the other person is coming from. Don't judge because you never know the path they've walked. Was I judged too quickly? I think so. Everyone who reads me regularly knows 2 things:
1. I can be a bit of a drama queen
2. I truly believe Karma catches up
Well...3...I am not the only one drinking champagne at Chez Miller on Champagne Fridays.

But what I will not do is fight this firestorm with a blowtorch. I will not put negative back out into a world that is already drowning in it (yes haters, I'm talking to you). And I won't judge Anonymous because maybe it's a guy whose wife left him when he lost his job and now all he has is his dog, his fridge of deer meat and the Internet. Or maybe it's a she who has never been supported by her husband, regardless of her career choices. Maybe it's Neal's former employer. Or maybe it's Neal. All I know is that even if Anonymous had a face and a name and a Facebook profile, I still couldn't judge because not everyone puts their life on the chopping block like I do. I'm bound to get cut from time to time. I do feel some kind of unjustified need to clear the record about how we do things around this house.

1. I will support Neal in whatever he decides to do.

Want to take an active tour of duty in Antarctica?
Let me just put the house on the market real quick.

Weighing the options between Cosmotology and Massage Therapy School?
I've got my pro/con table already drawn out.

Deciding to take an early retirement and see the world through the windshield of an RV?
I'll call the dealership and tell them we're on our way.

I know that he will not choose any of these and he will take the most logical path...and get hired in about 9 seconds because he rocks tech socks. I'm just sayin'...I'll be there for you...always have been, always will be. I mean, you put me through massage school and then watched me pack up all of my massage supplies last weekend. I figure I owe you...

2. We are one of those obnoxious couples who is only completely happy when the other is happy. I've been edgy ever since Neal gave up, mentally, on making a difference at his job. Before I opened the business, Neal was always suggesting things for me to try....anything to make the crying after work and on Sunday nights stop. If he wants to go RV'ing, we'll be poor, but we'll be happy. Likewise, Neal does not want me to give up the business. He knows I'm all stupidglowy when I make and sell stuff. Why would he want me to give that up just to get a steady paycheck? Yeah, he wouldn't. Plus, someday the business will draw a steady paycheck. So, we have an understanding....I will see the continental U.S. from the passenger seat and he will let me keep Daisy & Elm.

3. The wine club membership was his idea, I merely agreed. Although I was not all that hesitant about it. And I lay in the tanning bed for relaxation purposes. I am literally slathered, head-to-toe, in Baby Sunscreen. I'm still pasty white...just like a Kentucky girl should be in March. But as I said before, I will easily give them up and take up something that does not involve cooking from the inside, out.

4. Neal and I have been through much worse than him losing a job and still came out holding hands and telling dirty jokes until we laughed. It will be fine like frog's hair and once I got past the mad (I call it sympathy anger because he was also less than pleased), I realized that he had been unhappy for quite some time and that couldn't last much longer.

And now I've just spent 1000 words justifying a blog post to an Anonymous commenter. LAME. Sorry guys, but the secret is out...I am not Chelsea Handler/Surferwife-tough. I am a hot mess of hormonal hominy that does not appreciate outright judgmental comments. Have something helpful to say? Go for it...even if it makes me squirm on my stability ball, I want to hear it. But please don't come in here and spray your nasty on my walls. I just cleaned them.

Ode to Neal Part II (sauteed with wine)

Before I start with this second phase of my Neal-praise-a-thon (and for the record, I'm a little surprised that we could all fit in the Prius tonight...meaning me, him, and this ego of his that he's developed in the last 24 hours...but I'm sure he'll do something like drool on my pillow and it will all be over)...but I have to give out some love to Kallay who hooked me up with another award today! In return, I must list 10 things that make me happy (really, Kallay...only 10??) and add links to my 10 favorite blogs (again, only 10??). But I really must finish the husband-doting tonight so first thing tomorrow morning I will formally accept the award and do my best to make you proud. And then I will drink Kahlua-spiked coffee and lie around in my snowflake loungy-lounge pants until noon because...it's Saturday and I used to work every Saturday, all Saturday so I'm celebrating my self-employment (which is often confused with unemployment, most notably by me).

Oh and a little extra lurve out to my mom who picked up the wine tab tonight. Nothing says Merry Christmas like riesling...which is fueling this post. So, judge me if you must on grammatical errors and syntax mis-steps, but I'll know that really you're just resentful. Don't hate...it's Christmas.

So, the next 12 reasons why my husband rocks socks and makes life entertaining, if not always easy.

• You don't laugh at me when I do things like proclaim the garden tub to be busted and then call a plumber who pulls down on the faucet instead of twisting clockwise and TA-DA! There's water! That's after he has taken the whole thing apart and drafted a bill for his hour's worth of labor which is equivalent to an apartment building in Tokyo.
  
• You understand that I don't understand things like audio in/output, hard drive space, and binary code. You accept that I would rather discuss scrapbooking layouts as opposed to Google's dashboard approach to privacy. We can always meet somewhere in the middle, usually over Ghiradelli chocolate chip cookies.
• When I thought that I had accidentally registered as a republican, you did not leave me stranded on the JFK Expressway. I'm glad that one worked out, though. This house is not big enough for 2 cats, an elephant and an ass.
  
• You sent me to massage school although I'm pretty sure you knew you'd never be the benefactor of that knowledge. When people bring it up at parties, you just smile and professionally evade the perpetual question: "just how good is she?"
• When we are distracted by baristas in brown and green and therefore end up running for planes in major airports, you will eventually wait for me (because I am in "cute" shoes, not sprint-through-ATL-with-hot-beverage-sneakers).
  
• When I was pregnant, you budgeted $100 per month toward clothing. Only a woman who is expanding in every direction except up can appreciate this.
  
• Sometimes I say that I will get up with you and workout at the buttcrack of dawn (AKA roughly 5:30 AM). I am a victim of my own guilty conscience when I agree to this. You get it, you don't hold me to it, and above all you forgive me for it and go on your merry way. I think you realize that 9 AM is my 5:30.
• I pass out from fear of imminent death on kiddie rollercoasters. You ski black-diamond slopes and sky dive. We've spent a lot of time purposely not dying. I groove on that.
• You had me at "let's join a wine club."
  
• You made room in your house for my piano, my cats, my antique furniture and all of my shoes. And then you let me design my own engagement ring. You are the equivalent of Sam Baldwin, Edward Lewis, Michael Green, and Jack Callaghan all rolled up in one (and even more adorable because you won't know who any of those characters are).
  
• In high school, you played the clarinet. That plays no role in our married life or in how you treat me like the lead singer of your rock band, I just think it's cute...you with your little pursed lips and heel-ball-toe marching.
• When you got deployment orders, you cried too. Suddenly, I didn't feel like such an over-emotional hot mess of a wife. I soldiered through a lot of long and lonely nights with that image in my mind.
  
• You fill my world with laughter. And that is the best gift of all. Well, that and the tight little ass of yours.

Merry Christmas, handsome! Two years ago this week we were sending you off to the desert. This time last year I was lonely and sad and drinking entirely too little eggnog with my bourbon. I don't know what 2010 holds for us but at least we have each other and that's the only thing we need...And this paddle game, the ashtray and the paddle game and that's all I need. And this remote control. The ashtray, the paddle game, and the remote control, and that's all I need. And these matches. The ashtray, and these matches, and the remote control and the paddle ball. And this lamp.....

An Ode to Neal (minus the rhyming)

I have been accused, occasionally, of...let's see...I think they call it "not having Neal's back" on my blog. As in, when he does something even remotely amusing/embarrassing/man-like, I blog about it. Yes, I know...shocker. And this is true. If you're new to Magnolias and Mimosas, then there's a chance that you missed this, this, and this....so, please enjoy...I don't mean for it to happen, it just sort of does. He's very witty and clever and sometimes clueless and let's face it, that makes for excellent blogging material. I mean, Seinfeld didn't become an instant hit because Elaine had such great hair. These real life situations are much funnier than anything I could create in my head - even though it is a hall of mirrors up there....

So, as an early Christmas present to my dahling husband, here are 25 reasons why you make my life jolly, jovial and just ho-ho-holy mackerel amazing everyday (one for each day leading up to Christmas for those of you too blitzed on eggnog to put it together...not judging...I'm just sayin'....And it's not a "Top 25" because I've always felt like that put way too much pressure on #1 to be the very best and that's just not fair. I mean would you want the weight of being the best of 25 resting squarely on your shoulders? Miss California can tell you...it's no picnic.) So, in no particular order:

• You always thank me for doing your laundry. I'm not sure why. It's not like I have to scrape them down or even turn them inside-out before throwing them in. You have the most low-maintenance laundry of anyone I've ever known.
• When I ask you seemingly innocuous questions which really stem from deep-seeded jealousy, you get right to the point. As in "no, honey, that's a divider in the email...not my boss sending me a dozen little kisses."
  
• Every morning, my monkey-on-crack-cat, LuLu, sleeps in your lap while you check email and read the paper online. This is a drastic change from when we first moved in and I'm pretty sure there is no place on earth that she would rather be.
  
• Your honesty is astounding. If you don't know...you will simply say "I don't know." I can probably list on one hand the number of people I know personally who can admit to not having the answer. Of course, there is the other 90% of the time when you just make up crap to see if I'll question it.
  
• My new laptop came equipped with a 16" LED screen. Instead of asking me to not blog, read blogs, and play Tiger Woods video games in bed until 1 AM, you simply say "let me roll over so I can get some sun on my back tonight."
  
• You will watch hours and hours of History Channel with me when I know you'd rather be watching HGTV. It's hard to redecorate with WWII knowledge and I appreciate your sacrifice.
  
• When my scrapbooking/beading supplies take over your desk, you simply move over...sometimes that's to the floor...the same goes for the bed and the walk-in closet (and dresser, now that I think about it). I love that about you. In the future, I will try not to be so expansive.
  
• I have not cleaned a toilet since I moved in...and yet they grow no funk. It is for that, perhaps, that I am most grateful. I don't know what lives in there, but I'm pretty sure I want no part of it.
  
• You have eaten hockey-puck-hamburgers and hypertension-laced french fries - all with a smile on your face. But I'd have to say we've come a long way from stir-fry 3 nights/week.
• After a few post-wedding "discussions," you've called me every night on your way home from work. I can't always answer, but (and J-Lo said it best) you're always on time.
  
• You carry things that are heavy...whether it's a cooler, a TV or my emotional baggage. I will try to pack lighter. Bag lady is not a good look for me.
• Everyday, regardless of rain or shine, ice or snow, I get to park in the garage. I waited 14 years to park in a covered space, in a scrape-free zone. I think about it every morning that I am able to leave within 2 minutes of getting into my car.
  
• Not once have you complained about the thinning of your wardrobe. Whether you knew it was time to release those mock turtlenecks into the wild or not, you have never questioned me or the replacements that I bring to you (specifically the puffy vest from Land's End and the Rascal Flatts-wanna-be button-down).
  

Wow that's 13 and it's midnight. Perhaps we should continue the festivities as a Part II tomorrow. I've never been one for a mini-series but this is too much goodness to squeeze into one day. Besides, Neal deserves 2 days as I seem to have taken over everything else.