MAJOR Bling...and ground floor investments

This is Major Bling....



And as of yesterday, this is Major Bling...






























When I met him, I thought he looked really clean, really young and somewhat like Tom Cruise (little did I know, he got that A LOT...the clean, young and the Tom Cruise part) and I also wondered if he was capable of growing facial hair. I've been with him through his commissioning, the pinning on of his pilot wings, his butter bars, First Lt, Capt, and now Major. I've been there for his undergrad from the University of Arizona, his Masters from Mississippi State and through countless checkrides, upgrades, acronyms, roll calls and full chem gear exercises. I've moved nine times in ten years with him and watched him all along the way...continually growing and maturing as a man, a leader, a believer, a daddy and husband. And there has never been a time when he hasn't given me full credit and thanks for being with him through it all...that he could not have done it without me. He honestly believes that to be true. But the real truth is, he is one of the most honest, capable, tenacious, admirable and driven people I know. He totally could have done this by himself... but if you tell him I said that, I swear I'll deny it. To look back on all of this, all that he has become and to have been so purposely included and continually be an active part in the planning and successes, (and possibly failures) I have no doubt that this is the best ground floor investment that I have ever been given the opportunity to make. So thanks Bling....for that priceless investment opportunity and for always wanting me right beside you... where ever that may be.

The most thankless gift...

I'm a mom. It's been almost five years now since I've become a mom...and yet, when I type it or say it, it still sounds foreign somehow. I decided to wait until I was a little older to have kids so that I would (theoretically) be wiser and more patient and more mature, but considering I'm five years into this, and I still like video games, sparkly lip gloss, have licorice for dinner sometimes and don't have the patience to let my finger nails dry, I'm not sure that waiting was the best strategy. But somehow I manage...


My Mama and I welcoming M. Rhapsody into the world.

Sometimes, "managing" means being awake, alert and completely sober for the entire day. Other times it means spending all day at home playing dress-up and dividing my acting skills between the roles of Prince, Patrice the store-keeper, Ursula the sea witch and a variety of other characters that really do challenge my improvisational talents. Other times, it means getting dirty and sticky outside, chasing critters, sampling various desert flora and fauna, singing in the rain or searching to find the end of a rainbow. And sometimes, "managing" is me acting as a chauffeur, referee and EMT to two small (yet surprisingly strong and fierce) people who cannot seem to understand the concepts of sharing and not using the other as a chew toy or punching bag. (In a scuffle, my money's on the little one though...is that wrong to say? Well, wrong or right, if you're smart, that's where your money should go too.)


M. was so much easier to mother than to grow.

Being a mom is amazing. And tiring. And overwhelming. And joyous. And frustrating. And challenging. And trying. And unbelievable. And so so much more. I teach and learn, listen and play and discipline and encourage. I shout and sing and spank and tickle and repeat, repeat, repeat...REPEAT...until I don't think I can repeat again....and then I repeat. I wonder how I'm doing. A lot. I read about how to be a good mom. I ask the good moms that I know what they do. I pray and look for the answers in the Bible. I look into each of my little girls brown eyes for as long as they'll let me, searching for the questions that will come...today, tomorrow... in a decade, in some futile attempt to prepare myself. I know in ways I succeed and I know in ways I fail miserably. But my highest hope is that I can somehow do for my little ladies what the mom of one of my most treasured besties did for her... "she painted the landscape of my life with wide brush strokes of faith, grace, hope and love." And if I don't or can't, well, that's why I'm already saving up for their therapy....



Little Orion Jai, born in South Korea but due on American Independence Day...the happiest baby I've met.

There are so many things about being a mother that I don't know. And so many I'll never know. But here are a few things about being a mother I know for sure. Being a mom means putting your selfishness and your own needs away...being ready for everything you're ready for and everything you're not...giving your love, your patience, all of your best stuff and your pocket money... sacrificing time for your husband, your friends and often times a shower in order to cater to your child's wants, needs and demands. I love my little lady bugs so very much. And I consider motherhood a gift. These girls have opened my eyes, my mind and my heart to so many new and exciting things. But there are times.... many times, that my job as their mom is very, very thankless. But believe me when I say, that I've never received a more thankless gift that I am more thankful for.

Orion and I

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!!

dumb luck.

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!!!

Dumb luck is in my opinion, the best kind. The kind that you don't wish for, plan for or hope for...the kind that just shows up in your life unannounced and often times unappreciated. So, in honor of St. Patrick and all that his day has come to mean and the fact that I've clearly walked booty backwards into a pot of gold, I am humbled and am hugely aware of all my dumb luck...

I'm lucky to have been born in a country which I adore and to have had the opportunity to explore its depth and breadth from sea to shining sea. I'm lucky to have friends who always make me laugh, and friends that have always been with me when life's punches make me cry. I'm lucky to have been afforded an education, and I'm lucky to be able to stay at home and "mommy". I'm lucky to have a love who not only tolerates my "idiosyncrasies" but finds them attractive or amusing...(very lucky). I'm lucky to be able to view the vast expanse of the heavens right outside my front door. I'm lucky that my two little beauties are healthy and rambunctious. I'm lucky to have been given choices that have ended in success and ones that have enriched my character. I'm lucky to have seen the "big picture" at a very young age. But above all, I'm lucky to know that the great fortunes of my life have not been dependent upon a charm, a clover or a horseshoe, but instead a Creator whose warm showers of love and grace cover even undeserving me. I'm lucky to know that my dumb luck isn't luck at all...

Lucky me.

it's just a walk in the (trailer) park

Spot #79. Agave Gulch Fam Camp. That's where you'll find me these days. That is, if you're wanting to deliver me a pizza or just drop by for a visit. What I have called home for going on 6 months now is a 5th wheel, toy hauler trailer. Yes, it's a camper. No, I'm not joking. I've had so many inquires about said living arrangement, that I decided to just go ahead and make it official by adding the experience to my reflections. For me. For the curious. And for some time in the future when trailer life will be just a distant memory....

Let me begin by mentioning that...I LOVE it. Yes, I LOVE it. No, I'm not joking. I love the fact that it always feels like I'm on a camping vacation. I love the 5th wheel itself. (Those who have pitied me have come by to find that this really is hardly "roughing it".) I love that we have 3 flat screen TVs in 39 feet. I love that it only takes me about 30 minutes to tidy up the place, including bathroom, kitchen, beds, and floor. I love that I finally have a place to put my, "If the trailer's rockin', don't bother knockin'" bumper sticker. I love that when I open the door I can see the bone yard with all of its retired aircraft standing like soldiers in the not-so-very distant distance. I love the noticeably absent yard work. I love that I can get six loads of laundry done at once in the beautifully maintained laundry mat for about $10. I love the sound of the rain against the fiberglass siding. I love the creative storage space. I love the girls' motorized queen-sized bunk beds. I love the fact that I can yell at the top of my lungs and still not be within earshot of a far-lefty. I love the way this lifestyle simplifies things in such a way that I can take my girls all over to explore and experience and not be tied to...housework. Stuff. Things. Belongings. Simply put, anchors.

Now keep in mind, lady and gentleman... (I don't want to presume that anyone besides Katie and my husband read this.) this is no ordinary "trailer park". I certainly couldn't go toe to toe with 'ol Marshall Mathers living on the 8 Mile stretch. Nope. When I sit out on my slab of pavement along with all of the others to watch the desert sun set, I see over a half a million bucks sitting on almost every spot. RVs that cost more than a decent house. Motorcycles, corvettes, scooters, Segways and one ton duallys, with clever witticisms plastered anywhere they fit... "gone4good, eat.sleep.jeep., C.U.LTR, Spending Our Kid's Inheritance, and the list goes on and on.... In my park, the average age of the other campers is about 3 decades older than I am.

But one particular evening, when the girls and I were out paying respect to the sky, I realized what I love the most about my current living arrangement. It was 5 o'clock. People had already been congregating on their designated slabs for some time because as one man told me, "When you're retired, every day's either a weekend or a holiday, depending if you can buy beer." And as the crackly speakers began to play aloud for all to hear one of my very favorite songs, our National Anthem, there was a hush. Everyone I could see around me got up, removed their hats, faced the music and proudly placed their hand over their hearts (including my two little ladies) and I had an overwhelming wave of emotion. Pride...maybe. Appreciation...most definitely.

This is what I'll take with me in my heart and in my memory when my trailer park life is finished. I had the pleasure and honor of living (quite literally) right smack dab in the middle of the greatest generation. To my right and to my left. Up the roads and throughout the park. I looked over at the Vietnam Navy pilot in front of me and the Korean war hero across the street and next door the retired marine who I swear I hear, "oohrah," faintly every time we pass. I looked at the group of ladies who constantly give me understanding looks about this military lifestyle we have in common, what it's like to be a single mom most of the time and having a husband with whom you share 70/30 with Uncle Sam. (For those of you who aren't familiar with military life, Sam gets the 70 and you're prying the 30 out of his greedy fist more often than not.)

It was then, at this sunset that I saw these people for who they really were. These were the people who helped to preserve all that I adore about my United States and made the life that I most often times ungratefully enjoy now possible. These are the people who did the work without whining about what they weren't getting and without the sense of entitlement that I've grown to despise in my own generation. They went where they were called. They served. They sacrificed at a time when serving was unpopular in wars that would never be won. And they did this for the chance to be part of something greater than themselves. These are the people who display limps and war wounds and horrible memories of war like the medals of honor they are, ever grateful for the unique opportunity to have participated in everything wonderful that was and is America.

Yes, it's cramped at times. Yes, it's extremely difficult to shave my legs without contorting into some seriously advanced yoga positions. Yes, meal time preparation isn't quite what it was in the enormous kitchen I had gotten incredibly accustomed to. Yes, I do miss my stuff. And yes, I do prefer to live in an actual house. But without a doubt... These are the days to remember.

I Need A Hero

I do. Need one. But at very least, I suppose that I want to believe that there is one.

As I've grown up and out of my childhood fantasies of marrying Prince Charming, being a professional Ice Capades ice skater and living in a house made of cheese, I've come to realize that my perception of what a hero is has changed dramatically. No longer do I envision a spandex clad superhero swooping in at the last second, rescuing the damsel/kitten/elevator full of innocents only to wave, smile for some photo ops and disappear off into the sunset on his horse, web or Batmobile. I don't even imagine the suave James Bond, shaken (not stirred) martini in hand, helping the young (and always attractive) lady just long enough for a quick roll in the hay, all the while imparting his witty little one-liners to whomever will listen.

Nope. Those aren't heroes, those are distractions. All of the showiness and the huge, daring feats have their place, but once the crowd dies down and the mess is cleaned up, what are you left with? A man in spandex, ready to vanish without warning to the next crisis. In his attempt to save the world, you are left alone watching and waiting for his next grand entrance, not knowing when or if there will be one.

So then what is a hero? And this is what I answer... A hero says what he means and means what he says. A hero tells you the truth even when you want him to shut up, holds your hair when you throw up, and gives you the one good reason not to give up. A hero makes you want to be better and helps you figure out how to make that happen. A hero steps out of his comfort zone and learns how to feel comfortable in yours. A hero is the first to say I'm sorry and the last to say something that he knows he'll regret. A hero realizes the impact he has on those around him everyday and doesn't take that responsibility lightly. A hero under promises and over delivers. A hero doesn't wander in and out of your life, he is there days, weeks, months and years whether he's appreciated or not, because there's no where else he'd rather be.

Thank you. For knowing I was the one for you the moment we met. For your insight. For your friendship. For your omelets. For teaching me quadratic equations. For sharing your last name with me. For wearing pink princess band aides because two little girls put them on so lovingly. For being the anchor to my sail. For your graphs, spreadsheets and percentages. For your great big smile. For knowing that I'm a wild fire and choosing to continually fan the flames.

Thank you for being a hero... my hero.

dumb luck

Dumb luck is in my opinion, the best kind. The kind that you don't wish for, plan for or hope for...the kind that just shows up in your life unannounced and often times unappreciated. So, in honor of St. Patrick and all that his day has come to mean and the fact that I've clearly walked booty backwards into a pot of gold, I am humbled and am hugely aware of all my dumb luck...

I'm lucky to have been born in a country which I adore and to have had the opportunity to explore its depth and breadth from sea to shining sea. I'm lucky to have friends who always make me laugh, and friends that have always been with me when life's punches make me cry. I'm lucky to have been afforded an education, and I'm lucky to be able to stay at home and "mommy". I'm lucky to have a love who not only tolerates my "idiosyncrasies" but finds them attractive or amusing...(very lucky). I'm lucky to be able to view the vast expanse of the heavens right outside my front door. I'm lucky that my two little beauties are healthy and rambunctious. I'm lucky to have been given choices that have ended in success and ones that have enriched my character. I'm lucky to have seen the "big picture" at a very young age. But above all, I'm lucky to know that the great fortunes of my life have not been dependent upon a charm, a clover or a horseshoe, but instead a Creator whose warm showers of love and grace cover even undeserving me. I'm lucky to know that my dumb luck isn't luck at all...

Lucky me.