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.

I should've bought a sports bra!  I'd meant to order one through Victoria's Secret and I completely forgot.  Now I'm basically screwed.  It'd most likely not make it here in time.  So I'll have to go and buy a crappy one at the exchange and hope it is sufficient to help me through the hard times ahead.  And by hard times, I absolutely mean engorgement.  Yes, those days are on the way.  No, I still don't have any urge to breastfeed.

Everything is totally sneaking up on me. I just stared at iCal for like 10 minutes trying to convince myself that Thanksgiving wasn't really just two weeks away. It is.

And just like I feel unprepared for baby girl's birth, I also feel unprepared for the turkey feast that is approaching with uncontrollable speed.

I have a pretty damned big turkey in the freezer. I bought one of those disposable foil turkey roasting pans - I opted to spend the extra $0.50 and get the one with handles (We're high society here, what can I say?). My pantry has a couple of bags of Mrs. Cubbison's in it (or is it Pepperidge Farms? I don't know.) and enough canned pumpkin and cream of mushroom soup to make you raise an eyebrow. I own Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" holiday CD (and can't wait to pop it in but have been waiting for the right moment) Amaris is looking forward to "helping" me cook the "chicken". I've compiled almost every holiday recipe that I can think of (which totals out to WAY more food than will be necessary, but if I am anything, I'm indecisive and I can't "slim down" my to-do list for fear of leaving out the "wrong" things) and have organized them in a handy little Word "notebook" document - complete with a grocery list and a timeline for when to prepare what.

But still I feel un-ready. And awkward.

I'm working on it. Whether or not I'm ready means absolutely nothing - Thanksgiving is coming and I will be cooking.

Yesterday we finally got word that our household goods had arrived on the island and were passing through customs. I got overly excited and assumed that we'd have our belongings in our house by Friday - despite the fact that Friday is already scheduled to be a hectic day with the Marine Corps Ball to worry about and Mark doing some volunteer event. At least we'd have the weekend to get things settled in and "normal".

Wrong.

The soonest they can deliver us our things is Monday. It kills me to know that my mattress is currently somewhere on this 463-square-mile island, and will remain in a giant wooden box till next week. Next week, when Mark is slated to be out in the field for 3 days. The timing on these things is absolutely phenomenal, let me tell you. I've been trying really hard to curb my complaining on the matter, but the facts are these: Every morning my daughter wakes up coughing. My entire body hurts. My walls are bare. I'm losing my mind.

For me to be in pain is one thing. I'm a big girl, though, and despite the discomfort, I at least understand what is going on (as much as I can, anyways) and I know why I am in pain and that it is temporary. Plus, if I weren't pregnant, I'm sure the pain would be significantly less. A good portion of this dilemma is my moodiness.

For my two-year-old to be suffering SUCKS. You can't explain to a toddler that you know her sleeping conditions (and living conditions) are shitty, but that it is going to be better at some point. You can't explain to a toddler that her empty, cold, industrial bedroom is why she wakes up with a massively hoarse voice and pain in her chest every morning and that you're really trying to make it better. She has been a real trooper so far. But I still don't think it's fair for her and honestly it makes me sad. My effort means nothing. I asked Mark last night if he ever wondered what Amaris thinks of the whole thing - if she worries that this will be permanent, her empty bedroom with the twin-sized air mattress and no furniture, the little TV on an end table in the corner of the living room, the blank walls throughout this echo-ey space we've been calling "home"... Her empty bathroom. I wonder if she looks around and thinks, "Gee, I miss the way things were." In San Angelo she had a bright, colorful bedroom with fun furniture and stuffed animals and all of her things. Even in transit, she at least always had a bed to sleep in, with real bedding and a springy, elevated mattress.

Mark doesn't know what Amaris thinks about this situation. Obviously, neither do I. But I can't wait to see her face when her bedroom is re-assembled.

It's been a difficult week. As Mark got dressed he said, "I'll be so glad when this week is over with. One more day to go."

This difficult week, with all of it's early mornings and late evenings, has made me come to a realization. I am lonely. I'm just as lonely here in Okinawa as I was in San Angelo. I love Mark to death and God knows he tries but this week he's been, really, too tired to be a social outlet for me. He comes home, sits zombie-fied at the computer and checks his various accounts: Myspace, Facebook, Mob games... And I sit over his shoulder rambling on and on about the trivial happenings of my own day to day. Then we eat dinner and he goes to the couch and turns on the TV. And promptly falls asleep. Not like dozes off, we're talking full-on mouth gaping head on the armrest sleep. Amaris always has to point this out. "LOOK, mommy! Daddy's sweeping!" The first couple of nights she tried to wake him up by whacking him on the forehead repeatedly and saying, "'it up! 'it up!" Last night she simply said, "Where's daddy's blanket?" then found her own tiny little pink fuzzy fleece blanket with the stars on it, and painstakingly covered him up with it (first his shoulders and neck, then pulled it lower and lower till it was covering his feet). Then she kissed him. And then she came to me, proudly, and sat in my lap. Night before last, she offered him her "B" and her "dol-fat" as sleep peace offerings. ("Dol-fat" translates to dolphin - as in the stuffed animal she HAD to HAVE from the Churami Aquarium a couple weekends back.)

As Mark sat and started his routine last night of checking his Myspace and Facebook accounts, I rambled on and on about all the chaos that was my yesterday: The tower fire drill where I ended up locked out of the apartment and the firemen had to climb a drain pipe to let me back in, the trip to the "pwee-grout" where Amaris played with at least a half dozen other military brats for nearly an hour before I told her it was time to come inside and make dinner - which caused her to throw herself down in the grass and scream bloody murder and kick her feet in the adorable terrible two's style of good old fashioned tantrum-throwing, and then the trip back into the apartment where I had to carry her under one arm while she screamed and kicked me in the back until we got into the building where I set her down on the floor and let her follow me into and out of the elevator (each time she was stopped long enough to do so, she threw herself down and pitched another fit). The early morning phone call from maintenance to come and fix the kitchen drain - the same one that had already been fixed the day prior. The handful of phone calls I had to make throughout the day to schedule appointments - Amaris' dental exam and my own ultrasound, and the call to TMO to make sure our belongings are still on-time to arrive on November 4.

And while I sat there going on and on about all this, Mark just kept doing what he was doing. Ordinarily I wouldn't have cared. But for some reason my delightful hormones were going full-swing and I got upset at him for not giving me any response. I wasn't looking for a five-paragraph essay or anything, I know that my adventures when relayed to an extremely tired man who spent his day shooting a rifle and getting sweaty and dirty pretty much mean nothing. But I all of the sudden felt like he could at least have pretended to be interested. I don't even know that he did that whole smile and nod thing to keep me rambling. I just know that he sat there continuing on like I may as well not have even existed. And it hurt my feelings. And I sad, "Well, you sure are fun," and then got up and went into the kitchen to sulk.

He said, "You're not happy, are you?" I said, "Not right now." He said, "I mean with me, in general." No, that's not true. Actually since we got here things have been great. Things have been stellar. There have been times when I felt a fight brewing since we arrived in Okinawa and he must have, too, because he immediately apologized, smiled, and took my hand. Moments like that have NEVER before existed in my relationship with (as I affectionately call him) the most stubborn man alive. Moments that literally leave me dumbfounded and searching for the proper words to THANK him for humbly avoiding a pointless argument. I should have searched harder so that I could convey my gratitude, rather than silently counting my blessings. Since we got to Okinawa, our relationship has been great, is what I'm trying to say. We don't always have the privacy or comfort that we want here, with Amaris running around like a maniac, baby girl kicking the hell out of me from inside, and no proper bed to snuggle up in, but I feel liks things are a thousand times better than they were while we struggled through 6 months in Texas. It is NOT that I am unhappy with him. The problem is solely me.

I am a lonely person. I spend my days, quite literally, talking to an irrational 2-year-old. And we went to the playground yesterday and there were at least four other moms there with their kids, and one dad. And Amaris got along with all the kids and had a great time. And some of the moms clicked and were chatting. But I felt like the loner. Just like in high school. I managed to be the loser mom that didn't fit in. And I don't know what I did wrong. And I resent it. I don't know anyone here. I don't have stellar social skills or anything like that so I have alienated myself and have, basically, no idea how to MAKE friends. Especially with kids. The other unit wives from Mark's command are... nice, I guess. I don't know. We are one of the few families with more than one child, or really, any children at all. The wives I have met I am hesitant to get close to. Mark knows tis about me the best. I am terrified of being shat on, so I don't make friends. I sulk and mope and try to find other ways to occupy my time and none of it works. I still end up the lonely one who depends on her husband as her only social outlet.

Poor guy. I am sure he really does feel like he can't win. And he tries so hard, too. To keep me sane and happy. And I sit here and mope and isolate myself and fill my time with frivolous online shopping and other things that I think will make me happy but they don't fulfill me, really.

My goal when we found out that we were coming to Okinawa was to work on school. I need to enroll. And I need to do it soon. I need to be doing something that matters. Not that raising Amaris doesn't matter, I just feel like I'm not always doing the best job at that either and I could do it better if only I would just work on making myself happy, too.

NMCRS is looking for volunteers. I think I'll email them today and find out how to get started. And the PWOC is always on my back trying to recruit me. I don't know anything about "Protestants" so I'm going to look it up and see just what all that religion entails.

For now, it's 4AM. Mark is on his way to work and I'm praying it won't be a ridiculously long day today. For his sake and mine. And that tomorrow they'll have a different schedule that doesn't require him waking up before 5AM and coming home after 6PM. It's Halloween, for crying out loud. I am going back to bed now that I've gotten this off my chest.

For some reason I have the hardest time remembering. It's like I hit 20 weeks and since then I've been "More than halfway through." I don't bother to remember anymore.

I know that there are 7 pay days in between now and when baby girl is due to arrive.

Okay, I just checked. I'm somewhere around 24+ weeks. Closer to 25, I think. So 25 is what we're going with. Because it sounds nicer. Rounder. Like me. Notice how pale (and gross in general) my legs are. And no, I'm never going to take my backpack down from the buffet in the background. It looks special there. I need some pictures to hang on the walls or something, good grief this place looks barren.


Plus, I knew I had a 25-week photo to compare my belly to. Well, it's not a very good representation of "the belly" when I was pregnant with Amaris, but it's a cool picture and I like it. So that's what you'll get. I distinctly remember that everyone said, "that is NOT really your belly! You are huge!" I think in reality it was pretty similar to where I am now, though.

So yeah, I think that was one of my favorite belly pictures when I was pregnant with Amaris. I don't know how it managed to come out like that, but it was cool lighting or something, and the flowers in the background. It was cool.

We downloaded all of the newest episodes of House and Pushing Daisies from the iTunes store. And Mark insisted we buy The Devil's Advocate. He says today is a movie day. I say BOO to that - I want to go shopping. Damn the fact that we have no money. I'd be happy to window shop at this point.

Oh well, I have chicken noodle soup to cook, so I guess it's just as well.

...to have my own bed back already.

I have found purpose. I am finally elated to be heading out on this new adventure to Okinawa. You want to know why?? Well of course, I'd be delighted to tell you why. (Since you asked so politely and all.)

Somewhere I read that Okinawa was approximately the same distance by air from Tokyo, Japan; Hong Kong, China; and I think someplace in Taiwan. When I learned this, initially, it did not register in my head. In fact, it meant almost nothing to me. I was too bitter with the very fresh, very new knowledge that we would soon be moving against our better wishes to a foreign country I knew very little about (except what I'd heard from other military families, which was not by any means famously good news).

Today, while chatting with my friend Melinda, somehow the topic of Disney resorts came up.

Now, I grew up with a fanatical Disney mom. My mom has always said that if she were ever to get a tattoo, she'd get a Mickey silhouette on the back of her hand, right where she could see it. Often. She took my brother and me to Disneyland on a yearly basis for as long as I can remember, even when it meant running up a credit card (and often, I suspect, it did). She was never happier than when she was walking through the main gate and onto Main Street, U.S.A. She rubbed off on me, I'll admit. I got quite obsessed myself. And it got to the point where if it wasn't Disneyland it didn't feel like a real vacation.

One year, my brother wanted to go to a week-long Anime convention in Anaheim, CA. I think ordinarily my mom probably would have laughed at him and said to take a hike. But this was different. This was Anaheim. Home of Disneyland. Mom quickly agreed to take him. She bought 5-day passes for the two of us, and we spent the entire week overstuffing ourselves with as much Disney as we could manage while Robert indulged himself in the anime craziness going on just across the street at the convention center. We set out to do everything we could do at Disneyland in those 5 days, even the things we'd never wanted to do before. All the way down to the canoe ride - which was exhausting.

Shortly afterwards, she bought us Annual Passports. Not the dinky ones with half of the calendar blacked out as no-use dates, but the BIG Premium passports that were good 365.25 days a year and got us free parking and 10% discounts at almost every vendor in the park. I can remember MANY weekends where she'd look at me on a Friday evening and say, "Want to go to Disneyland?" And I of course agreed and off we went early on Saturday morning, to spend the day there and drive home Saturday night.

Fond memories, I tell you.

Which is why it shocks me that it took this conversation with Melinda this evening for everything to click in my head.

Boys and girls, I'm on a mission.



The airfare is potentially going to suck. And we're going to have to save lots of money to be able to pull off these vacations, but damnit I am DETERMINED! I went to Switzerland last June to visit one of my best friends, and we toyed with the idea of going to Euro Disney in France for a few minutes, before we realized we were holding the price sheet and there was just no way in Hell. But the thought was there. The thought has always been there to visit the foreign Disney parks.

The more I think about it, the more I really hope we can find a nice, similar-to-ours family to be our travel buddies (so that we can alternate who sits out with 'the kids' for the rides they won't be able to partake in). But, like I said, DETERMINED! This is my one big opportunity to visit these two parks, and I have 3 years in which to do it. I think it's do-able with a little discipline and a lot of will.

I am seriously so excited that I feel like I just might burst. When I logged into the Hong Kong Disneyland website and the music started to play, I almost cried. (Yes, hormones.) And of course, Tokyo Disney looks absolutely lovely too. If we're going to do this, we'd better be doing it all the way, too. I want to stay at Disney owned hotels. And I want to stay for more than one or two days. I'd like to ideally make each trip at least a week long so that we can do the parks and then we can see the rest of the cities in question. I've always wanted to see Tokyo, and grandma used to always tell me how much she'd like to visit Hong Kong one day, and like I said, this is pretty much my one big chance for all of those things.

Yippee let the planning begin! I think that I might pee my pants before Mark is available to discuss this with.

I just want to know how to play this stupid thing. I'd like to skip all of the learning process and go straight into knowing how to read (and play) tabs and having fun with it. Instead I sit here with the stupid foolio sitting on my lap, and I am miserable and puzzled and completely irritated. I am good at making noise with it, but none of my noise means anything. Which is really frustrating when you know what it's supposed to sound like. Stupid guitar. Stupid lack of patience.

And stupid me!! I just wish it were easy! And I wish I had somebody to properly teach me without humiliating me entirely. This is why I give up on things so easily.

I am no good without proper instruction.

I have decided that I need this necklace. Not "want". Need. Somebody please tell Mark.

Okay, now that I've gotten that out of the way, I'd like to point out that I've been doing a lot of.. Well, nothing. Nothing at all. I've mostly been a big bump on a log. It's been raining here and cloudy here since Saturday night. I am welcoming this change in the weather. Anything is better than the incessant heat of Texas. So we've been holed up in the house for the most part. Late last night, after we'd put Amaris to bed, Mark and I stayed up and made Rice Krispy treats. Which may seem silly and trivial to most, but for me it was fun and time spent together without the TV on. And let's face it - I'll take what I can get.

I still have no idea what is going on. I don't know when I'll know, either. Just a hurry up and wait game. I'm not enjoying it. It's stressing me out. We are upside-down on our car loan, so the fact that we'll have to sell the car soon leaves me in a panic-state. I don't know how we'll manage to sell the car. We're going to have to take out a loan to do it. That's pathetic. I wish I could just call the bank and say, "Listen, I wouldn't be ditching the car - even though you completely ripped us off on it when we bought it - but we're moving to Japan on military orders. I need to unload it and nobody will buy a 2003 Honda with 100k miles on it for the amount that is left on our loan. You know, the one that you overcharged me on from the get-go. I need to get rid of it soon. How about I make payments on it through October and then I just give it back to you and we call it even?" I don't think that American Honda Finance would find that a reasonable offer, though, and I don't want to damage my credit. So poop. I know that eventually, this will all somehow work itself out. But for now I am in a hard place. And I just keep thinking to myself that I should have never traded in the Scion. Things would be so much easier now if I was still driving that around. It'd be almost paid off, and we'd be on top. As it stands with the CR-V, I've got a good, oh, 4 years or so to go until it's paid off. Nice, huh?

Anyways. I should stop stressing about things I can't fix. At least I can't fix them immediately. I need to just get a grip.

I'm all over the place today. My house is a mess, I really want a toridon bowl from Mika's in Fresno, and diamond honey roasted almonds are delicious. Oh, and Amaris would really like to try out those skates. I'm waiting for the rain to pass. She keeps putting them on and walking around the house in them. Picture her in a t-shirt and diaper with the skates. It's ridiculous.