whoever told me this would be fun, lied.

Sometimes I wonder what it's like to actually have fun planning a wedding, to be excited about the whole thing. Don't get me wrong, I'm excited to get married, I really am! It's all these silly little details that I could pretty much care less about. I am opinionated on various things, but for most parts of my life I am very laid back. So I've been feeling a bit overwhelmed, pretty much since the beginning of all of this hoopla, as the flood of questions has hurled my direction.

Do you have a date?
How did he do it?
What are your colors?
Do you have your dress yet?
Is it a princess fit?
How about your girls?
Will you have a big bridal party?
What do you mean your parties might not match numerically?
Who is your caterer?
Photographer?
Where is everything gonna be?
What do you mean your parents aren't paying for the wedding?
How are you gonna manage to keep the guest list to 100 people?!?

And then there's all the little details! My mother, sister, and I went over to a friends house last night. My mom has asked her to help make cup-cakes for the little refreshment reception we're having during the receiving line portion of the ceremony. And of course there were more directions and questions.
How are you going to set up? Where are you going to put the receiving line? Have you thought about your timing in all of this? What about gifts, where are you putting gifts?
I get to points where I think most everything has been figured out and we don't have to worry too much...and then this happens and a whole new can of worms is opened up and I go to bed crying.
I finally just handed all of this over to my mother, who loves planning. I said, look, I've made the major decisions about what day, where it's all going down, what every ones wearing, designed and ordered invites, and took care of the menu...other than any of that, I really don't care what anything else looks like. You take care of it, cause I've checked out.

It was kind of a weird thing...and the more I think about it the more I wish I had eloped and it was all over. The truth of the matter is that I miss my guy. Were he here, on this coast,  in this time zone, and preferably in the same state as me, I'm sure that there would be a little more bounce and excitement to all of this. But he's not. He's 3,000miles, and 3 time zones away. And he will be until the wedding, pretty much. In a way, I guess it shows that I'm not a crazy bridezilla. That all this hoopla is not just a showy, hoe-down. It all means that it's the marriage I'm longing for, and not just the wedding. Not the dress, and the shoes, and the hair and make-up, and the crowds, and congratulations, and flowers and all of that attention. I'd be more than happy if everyone just showed up in nice attire and ate pizza and drank homemade cocktails in my back yard and danced under the stars and just had a simple nice time....

I think of that day and all I see is his face, his smile, his crinkly green eyes. Looking at me with an extreme mix of happiness, excitement, and fear. All I can see is this amazing man that I'm in love with, and all I want to do is pledge myself, give him a smooch, take his hand, and run for it!
Getting married, to me, means finally starting a life with this guy, my best friend of 18yrs,(who I haven't seen much since June of 2014, which has been a painful and strengthening experience)actually getting to go where he goes, and see what he sees, and make a house a home and put both our personalities into it(instead of his mattress on the floor in the corner of a space, white-walled apartment) Yes, that house may only contain me for months on end sometimes, but that is also just part of it. I have no delusions that this will be easy. I can't tell you where we're gonna be living by the end of this year, I have no idea. I can't tell you if he will be out at sea for 3-5 months at a time, or home for dinner every night. But I do know that when he's home, he will be home with me, not home and 3,000 miles away. When he's home, there will be much hugging and smooching and rejoicing instead of now, where there is sporadic texting when he ha time, the occasional phone call when we catch each other at the right time for our time zones, and the even rarer Skype date...wifi service permitting...

It's gonna be hard, I know that. But being a little closer will be easier on my heart. I know that, too.

4 Months, 3 Weeks to go....

December

You know when you've had a very full and exciting couple of weeks and then you hit that wall where everyone just goes back to school and work and normal life and everything seems all too quiet?
That is where my life is at the moment.

About two weeks ago my favorite man made port back in the good ol' U.S. of A after nearly 3 months  of sailing around the coasts of south and central americas. He was able to snag a couple extra days of leave so he could visit with us before he made a road trip across the country (the purpose being to get his car from the east coast to the west coast. 3,100 miles). After being apart for a lengthy amount of time the two of us were pretty inseparable. I cannot even begin to describe the amount of butterflies one might find in their tummy that spread through every inch of one's self.

Nearly a week after his return, his leave almost up, the two of us went out for a fancy dinner date. It was lovely, seeing as it proceeded a day full of dead car batteries, replacing alternators, and failed front and rear breaks...followed by a trip made up to Springfield College to drop off a car for G's sister. (let me tell you, it is difficult to drive a car in a very fitting sheath dress, stockings, and heels. Even without the heels, my stockinged feet slid all over my pedals.) And pardon me while I say, A POX UPON THE MAN WHO DESIGNED THE HIGHWAYS IN Mass AND HIS DISBELIEF IN ON/OFF RAMPS.
Anyways. By 9pm we finally reached our restaurant of choice...but something was off. It wasn't the food, or the entertaining karaoke, or the service. It was him. What was off, I couldn't tell you, but something was up. And so, despite being absolutely starving on the ride over, I lost my appetite as I always do when something is making me anxious.
Later that night I discovered what all the jitters were about as a band of delicate diamonds was slid onto my finger.
That was Tuesday. Friday he and his dad left for Oregon. Thursday night was probably the hardest and most painful night's I have ever experienced. Most of the evening was spent in silence, just holding each other and wanting to let go, knowing that when we did that meant it was time to really say goodbye. Finally as 3am got closer and closer, we sat up from our resting place and through trickled tears that escaped their confines we said our goodbye. So many goodbyes and "I love you"s. Over and over and over. Anything to prolong the parting. My throat was tight with emotion, and he even had wet trails on his cheeks where rogue tears had found themselves. He was barely out my bedroom door when I exploded and my dam tears broke. It literally felt as if my heart had been torn out of my chest. G told me not much later that he was quite a mess himself. He had been so upset, that he for left his beanie (one that I had made for him while he was underway) behind in my room. And the realization that he had forgotten the hat made him even more upset. From the moment I gave him that hat when he got home, to the moment he sat down in my room for the last time, that hat barely left his head. He loved it.

It is amazing to me how strong an emotion love is, and how much it can totally wreck you in different ways. My mind is continually blown.
Every reunion becomes sweeter than the last, as equally every goodbye becomes even more heart wrenching.

Finally, our men were off on their 3,100mile adventure, and the rest of us started to prep for Thanksgiving and the return of college bound siblings.  It was good to have them all back just days after my newly acquired Fiancé's depart. As always, his sister and my brother gave us an endless supply of lightheartedness, strange body noises, and side splitting laughter. All that overflowed into the weekend. But that couldn't last forever. Sunday came and went, and so did our college kids. Later in the afternoon, my sister, mother and I went over to my mother-in-law-to-he's house for coffee and a talk about where on earth to get started on wedding planning. This will certainly be an interesting combination of stressful and fun.

And here we are. Monday. Everyone is back at school, at work, and on their cutters. And here I am at my kitchen table, sipping my cold coffee with a million thoughts whirling around in my head and no one to hold me tight while I fall apart...again.  (Which I could've used while writing my silly paragraph about goodbyes.)

It feels good to have a projected date...but, that date is just under a year away...which feels like eternity, with few visits in-between.

Dead Man's Cove, Cape Disappointment, OR

Bear Lake, Utah

Melancholy Fiancee, CT

Time can stop now.

I've finally got my heart back. But everyday I get to share with him is another day closer to him leaving again. It's so bittersweet. I'm pretty sure saying goodbye like this will never get easier. I wish I could share this cross country adventure with him, but that is impossible.  So I cherish every second I'm allowed with him, because in this next year or so of his adventure, I don't where he'll be or when I'll see him. He might end up sailing through the Panama canal. He might not come home for Christmas. Access to wifi and cell service will most likely be limited. But he is mine. And he is worth it. And God is good and faithful. 

Puddle Pirate Update

Today, Alpha 190 is nearly half way through week 05. Their latest update, , has been tough but looking up as the recruits have had a higher bar set for them by their CC's and have set the bar higher for themselves as a company as well. It seems they are striving to be a unit and not a bunch of individuals. Going back over past updates it is clear that even though they still have a ways to go and grow, they have coma a far way. Everyday I miss my puddle pirate a bit more, and every day I wake up knowing there are fewer days between us and graduation. In the letter I received last week he mentioned that when we watch him graduate he must maintain a professional military persona during the tour of the facilities and everything that follows. There will be no more than brief hello hugs until we are loading ourselves into cars to drive back home. I will be so happy just to see him graduate after months of missing his handsome face, but knowing that I can't smooch him like a wild woman until very long after we have departed Cape May, is gong to drive me bonkers. Even then, finding time when I am not sharing him with his family and friends will be very difficult, but I am determined to make that happen as much as possible. 

Twenty-Three-More-Days

"I have been in the Coast Guard all me bloomin' life. My father was King Neptune, my mother was a mermaid. I was born on the crest of a wave and rocked in the cradle of the deep. My eyes are stars, me teeth are spars, me hair is hemp and seaweed. When I spits, I spits tar, I's tough, I is, I am, I are!!"

-A-190's week04 Mantra, as given to them by Chief Arseneaux 

I always joked I'd end up with a "Pirate"

"SR Logan, G. A-190"

My "Puddle Pirate", as they're sometimes called, is finishing up week 03 of boot camp. The days drag on, but the weeks fly by. How does that work? I have no clue. But we're nearing the 1/2 way mark. Only 35 more days until the graduation ceremony.  Every week or so a recruit from each company writes a short blog post on the events and progress they have been experiencing, as well as stress and yelling. Here is where you can read all about G's company, Alpha 190, and the latest "adventures", or misadventures, they are having. This is just the first post...I don't know how these guys get through this...I certainly would never be brave enough, and I am incredibly thankful for them.

Thirty. Five. More. Days.

A pirate's life for me...sorta...

It amazes me the connection between one's stomach and emotions.  Thankfully I've never been a stress eater. I don't binge on comfort food when I'm sad or lonely, or eat a bag of chips and other various junkies when I'm bored. I'd say that's a pro. The con, however, is that I'm on the opposite end of the spectrum. When I'm stressed, sad, or lonely I don't eat at all. My appetite vanishes completely and is instead replaced with imaginary feelings of sickness. Unfortunately, as I finish up week Two of Eight of waiting for my Coastie to graduate boot camp, my appetite hasn't returned. I'm forcing myself to eat. I get excited when I realize that I'm actually hungry but after just a couple bites I feel like I can't eat anymore. (Just so you know, I am not one to usually pass on an opportunity of being fed, so this is an unwelcome circumstance) I am actually a wee bit scared that my desire for food won't come back until I can om-nom a cheeseburger while sitting next to my beloved.  I actually am recalling a line from POTC #1: 

"The drink would not satisfy, food turned to ash in our mouths..." -

-Captain Barbossa 

That's...pretty much it. Everyone tells me that these bootcamp weeks will fly by...and when looking back on these last two weeks, I'm not sure where they went. But it's living through the weeks that seems to drag on. I'm not angry he's gone. If anything I feel guilty and selfish for wanting him to come back now, or to have never left. I keep reminding myself that this is a good thing. This is a challenge, one that we will get through and come out of stronger at the end. 39 more days. I can do this. I'm just gonna set mini goals to make the weeks ly and give myself little projects to work on and look forward to. Who knows, maybe i'll make this one of those projects. 

Sigh...39 more days...