It's official.  I have lived in this godforsaken apartment longer than I've lived anywhere else in the last six years.  And I have unfortunately discovered that the constant relocation has become an addiction for me.  This apartment is where I've experienced the worst living conditions in my life, so that doesn't help.  But about six months ago, I felt the urge to move.  The urge has festered and multiplied and now I am dying to get out of here.  There is no end in sight, though.  Not till we are due to move off of the island, which is another year and a half away.

I love Okinawa and I'm not done experiencing this country, culture and island, but I'd happily receive new orders to send us somewhere else just to get out of this apartment and preferably into a house with a yard and my cat and a good five feet or more in between us and our neighbors.

I'm also feeling bitter about the specifics of military life in Okinawa - the lack of American shopping, the censorship of our TV and movies, the limitations of Naval medicine...  Very upsetting.

Obviously, today I'm just feeling bitter about it all.

I am greatly looking forward to not having lots of free time.  I'm looking forward to having a plan on the weekends, and to being happy in general.

Four months and twenty-five days into this deployment, and I am losing my mind.

Somebody thinks it is funny to piss in the elevator.  So that at least once a week for a couple of days, it reeks of urine.

Everybody else gets half a day off after they've had duty for "recovery". Why is it that Mark never winds up getting what "everybody else" does?

I have not heard from Mark in 20 hours, now. He called a little after 8PM last night to check in and tell me that he missed me and my pork chops (more on that later). Then he never called again and he didn't come home around noon like most of the guys in his shop do when they've been on overnight duty.

Since we arrived here, Mark has had duty 3 times. First was the night before he had to go to the rifle range and that prevented him from getting his half-day off. Then was the Friday after Thanksgiving, and obviously he'd have already had the time off afterwards. And now last night. He said he might not get his half day this time either because they were "really busy", but I figured he'd still at least CALL in between and let me know some sort of an update. I've checked my phone all day long to no avail. He has not called, nor has he answered any of my 3 phone calls today. I'm getting annoyed. I just don't get why HE is always the overworked one. Anybody else would have taken their half day and left regardless of anything that needed to be done.

Long gone are the days of Port Hueneme duty. Duty there consisted of him having to carry around a rather annoying cell phone and check the building twice a day for a week, once every 2-3 months or so. Duty there was cake. Duty here, similarly to San Angelo, means that he has to stay at the barracks once a month, and gets to sleep a whole 4 hours, if he's lucky. It ticks me off that they obligate even the married Marines to this task, rather than just the Marines who are actually living in the barracks. I don't see them sending single Marines to keep an eye on the building we live in.

So I'm irritated.

Okay, back to the pork chops. Night before last I made pork chops for dinner that made Mark say, "OH MY GOD." Pork chops never get an "oh my God" in this house. We tend to find them boring and even a little tough and dry. Enter "Awesome Honey Pecan Pork Chops".

Ingredients:

• 4 3/4" thick boneless pork chops
• 1/2 cup all-purpose flour for coating
• salt and pepper to taste
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 1/4 cup honey
• 1/4 cup chopped pecans

Directions:

1. In a shallow dish, mix together flour, salt and pepper. Dredge pork cutlets in the flour mixture.
2. In a large skillet, melt butter over medium-high heat. Add chops, and brown both sides. Transfer to a warm plate.
3. Mix honey and pecans into the pan drippings. Heat through, stirring constantly. Pour sauce over cutlets.

Yes. You should try them. Seriously. I'll bet if I put them in a bento box, Mark would find Bento completely irresistible.

Okaaaaay, we've hit that time - that special time in any separation where I am DONE being patient. I was not to expect Mark home before 8PM and here it is 10 after 7, and I'm wiggly and anxious for him to come through the door.

I think up until now I've done pretty damn well this time. But enough's enough! C'mon home now!