Ok, I have tried a few times to start this post nicely and I just can't think of any way to do it, so here goes. We are jumping in, mid thought.

One of B's friends called last Friday night and seemed a little off. B kept talking to him and eventually he realized that friend hadn't heard from his wife since he left for work that morning. At 5 am. It was now almost 8 pm. B and friend talk for a while, with friend insisting that B not come over, he just wanted to talk. B gets off the phone, and since I am an *expert* eavesdropper, I say, "You know to ignore him and that you need to go over there, right?" B says, yeah, yeah, and heads upstairs to change. After some frantic phone calls *(and desperate attempts by yours truly to be all Veronica Mars and solve the case by posing as various people and putting in phone calls to the PD and the airport)*, the case is solved. Wifey packed a bookbag this morning and took the bus to the airport.

She flew home.

Without ever mentioning anything to her husband or friends here.

Which leads me to the question: How could anyone do something like that?

Now, don't get me wrong. If your husband is abusive/psycho/etc., I understand. Get away. Safely. But, at least from my view, SHE was the aggressive one in the relationship. I saw her hit him, yell at him, berate him, etc. He just took it. So, unless there's something REALLY weird going on, that's not the case here.

Although, from what I heard, that's what she's telling people at home, which is a WHOLE different story. *(How could you falsely accuse someone of beating you!?)*

So, needless to say, friend has been staying with us and some other friends on and off. He seems to be fine, but still in shock.

He even came to Thanksgiving yesterday, and while he got a bit drunk, enjoyed himself, I think.

Then.

She called. Why you ask?

Because she waiting somewhere for someone and was bored and alone and wanted to talk to someone. Oh, and by the way, she wanted money.

...

WHAT? I seriously don't understand some people.

I don't even know if there is anything else I can say.

Motherhood

So I was kind of thrown in to motherhood. I don't regret it at ALL, but there are times when I go, oh my gosh...I'm a mom. I assume this is true for mothers who have given birth as well.

There are times when I get accused of being less than a real mom because I didn't carry my daughter. For example, the woman who told me I loved Bug in my own way. What way is that?

There are times when I sometimes go, oh my GOD, what did I get myself into? Like when my friends are going out and I can't because I have a daughter now and no one to watch her.

And yes, there are even times when I sometimes catch myself thinking of what I could be doing if I HADN'T jumped in head first. These moments are usually fleeting, and I realize that nothing could be more wonderful than Bug in my life.

And then. There are moments when I just feel so utterly unprepared for this! HOW can I be a mother? I don't know what I'm doing! Who would allow this?

Like, for example, when I am sitting downstairs uploading pictures of Bug's birthday for family to see, and I hear her moving upstairs. At 10.30 pm. All prepared for a fight, I march upstairs to tell her to get her butt right back in bed, when halfway up the stairs I realize she's crying. Now I start running. WHY is my baby crying at 10.30 at night? I get there and it seems she's had a nightmare - she heard a monster. Not thinking anything of the smell in the room, or the fact that she is no longer in her pjs, I assure her there are no monsters as I lay her back in bed and sit next to her to keep calming.

But when I sit, it squishes.

Because she actually woke up to throw up all.over.her.bed. and while trying to clean up *(hence the lack of pajamas)*, she heard something outside and the combination of not feeling good and the dark and being upset made her very scared.

What do I do?

She's thrown up a few more times, she's been bathed, I'm on my second load of dirty clothes/sheets/couch covers, and she's now sitting watching a Mary Kate and Ashley movie, sucking on a Grandpa Ricky medicine *(Luden's cough drops. My father has her convinced they fix everything. I'm going with it.)*. She has a cup of water, she says she feels better - despite a few runs to the toilet.

But...
What do I do?
How do I make her feel better?

For now, the Grandpa Ricky medicine, the movie, and the promise of cuddling all night and tomorrow *(because clearly she can't go to school and I can't go to work)* seem to be working.

I'm just not sure it's enough.

The D Word

And it's not divorce.

Deployment.

I don't know about you, but I get scared and sad just typing it.

I THOUGHT one of the best parts about coming to Hawaii was that B's new battalion didn't deploy that often. I mean, I know it's the Marine Corps, so I know he can go at any time, but seriously, I'd heard both before and after we got here that the battalion just doesn't go that often. Except...a bunch of guys from the new unit are getting ready to leave. Ok, I can handle that, because B is not one of them. And since the unit doesn't go very often, we should be fine.

And then we were going for a walk the other night and out of nowhere *(and I mean that in the sense that we weren't talking about deployment, or the battalion, the war, or even the Marine Corps!)* B says he's already itching to get back over there.

...

There goes the happy idea of having him home for more than a year. Though, as he points out, as of August, he has, in fact, been home a year, so what's the big deal. Oh honey.

Here's the thing though.

Although my heart drops at the thought of him leaving, and I get upset about him being gone, especially to go to Afghanistan, and I get sick thinking about Bug having to endure a THIRD deployment before her fifth birthday, and nervous about being this far from home and having to do this TOTALLY alone...

My biggest concern is that I am still anxious about night time. Not in an, 'Oh baby, I can't sleep with out you,' way, but an 'I heard a noise; go check it out' way. I am still not used to living in the housing situation we are in, and I hear EVERYTHING. I mean, the neighbors pee, I hear it, I wake up, and am convinced someone is in our house. It's bad. When my big bad Marine husband is next to me, that is his job.

It's not one I want to do.

Is it bad that that was seriously my first thought? Is it wrong that that is still my main concern?

CLEARLY I don't want him to go, but I think growing up the way I did, I understand that he has to. I knew that when I married the man, it's pointless to fight and whine. We are a country at war; the Marines will be there. Therefore, my husband will be there. So I TRY to not waste time bothering with that.

I'm not heartless; I was THRILLED with the idea of three whole years with my husband. I guess I should get over that idea, eh?

Although, you know, listening to him right now cursing at Call of Duty *(...I think)*, maybe deployments have their upside. ;)

It's easy to forget.

Really, it is.

It's so easy to forget that we are at war. That men and women are gone, fighting, sometimes dying. That wives are home alone, hoping, praying, trying to keep everything running. That little girls and boys are waiting, wishing their mommies and daddies would come home. That parents and siblings are trying to run their daily lives, hoping that no news really is good news.

It's easier to go about our daily lives and not think about it. It's even easier when you have no connection to this war--which so many Americans can claim.

I'll admit--with my husband home, safe and sound, and most of my friend's husbands home, even I sometimes forget the gravity of what we are doing. Even living on base, I forget. It seems so far away, so long ago that he was gone.

Then, sitting at breakfast one morning, the ground rumbles and the air shakes and you look out your window to see Marines in AAVs rolling down the street in full on war gear, driving towards Marines dressed the same prowling around the buildings. Your husband rushes to the window, picking up your daughter, so she can see, she can realize, she can know what is going on, what our men and women are doing, what Daddy did while he was gone.

And suddenly, you remember. You remember just what is happening in other parts of this world, and how you've not given it a thought, and how maybe, just maybe, you should stop complaining about anything going on in your world.

Hotel Hate Pt. 1

Alright, I know I *just* posted, but as I was typing about the sorority, the hotel room was blissfully silent. Except. Bug was playing with a laptop that husband and I got for her birthday or something a year ago.

Yes, it's educational.

Yes, it's portable.

Yes, she loves it.

I HATE IT. It is so loud and annoying and in a one room hotel, when she plays with it, that's all I can hear. And it's like she knows, so all she wants to play with is this computer.

I really think whoever made noisy kids toys never had kids.

Soeurs Fideles + Semper Fideles

My Marine and I were having a discussion the other day about why I thought being a sorority girl was good preparation for being a Marine Corps wife. I told him, but I thought I would now share with you!

So, in college, I was in a sorority. *(Duh.)* The best sorority, but that might just be my opinion. Had you known me in high school, you would have been very surprised that I joined, but really, I don't think I've made many choices as good as joining Phi Mu. Some of the lessons I learned in those four years were more important than ones that I learned in my college classes. I remember hearing how much you could learn from a sorority and thinking how stupid it was, but really, the things I took away from Phi Mu are used pretty much every day.

I used some aspects at work *(organizing, taking control, planning, being an appropriately social assistant, etc.)*, but it's become REALLY handy since I married my Marine.

Way back in high school, I didn't really care how I looked. I mean, I didn't *(usually)* go out looking like a bum, but I didn't really care. I got to college and Phi Mu taught me what a bad idea that really was. Now, don't get me wrong, I was not one of the girls who wore heels and pearls every day *(though I knew them, loved them, and did not judge them)*. I just took some pride in my appearance and managed to get out of bed just a little bit earlier to put myself together. This applies now, because - regardless of what some military wives nowadays say - my appearance does indeed reflect upon my husband. I am still not one of those girls who wears heels to the commissary *(though I do get excited for an excuse to wear my pearls)*, but I am certainly not one of the wives who thinks it is appropriate to wander base in my pajamas. As 1950s as it sounds, what I do matters to my Marine. When I represent my sorority, I want it to be a good representation. I don't want people to see me and go, "Oh my God, that is what a Phi Mu is like? Noooo thank you," any more than I want them to look at me now and say, "Whoa, she is a Marine Corps wife? Ew." I want to look nice for my husband and other Marine Corps spouses.

My sorority smile sure comes in handy too. You have to *really* know me to know if it's a fake smile sometimes. This is very handy when you are talking to that Marine who is telling for you the 208447038 time just WHY he and his girlfriend are fighting, or why the Marine Corps is better than whatever other branch *(What, like I need to be reminded?)* and you so don't care, but there's nowhere else to go, so what can you do? You don't want to be rude and tell him to shut up, so you plaster on that sorority smile and figure out your grocery list in your head. It's saved me many times.

And finally, and I think, most importantly, *(and yes, I am aware this seems to be set up like a college essay.)* is the ability to talk to a wall. Some of the new girls who show up at family readiness meetings or FRT sponsored events or even the shop BBQ just look terrified to even be there. We all know that feeling. It's happened to everyone, regardless of who you are married to. And it is so nice when someone with a friendly *(sorority?)* smile comes up to you and draws you out. I remember being the girl in the corner at the first FRT meeting I went to *(Am I the only one who says fart every time she sees that? Dammit.)*and NO ONE talked to me. It was terrifying. Going to anything where there is a nice spouse makes it so much easier. This is especially true when the friendly spouse is a married to a more senior Marine and makes the effort to those of us married to junior Marines. Takes away so much intimidation.

Anyway. I'm sure there are a billion ways Phi Mu has helped me be married to my Marine, but those are the most prevalent.

I wonder what else could have helped?

Hotel Hawaii

Well, we are here. After all the stress of packing and cleaning and getting out of NC, only to go visit family in Va and Pa, then back to NC in a car we rented the day before and an overnight drive for a 12 hour plane ride, we are here. Paradise. And let me tell you, it does not disappoint. I haven't even been off base yet. Heck, I haven't even been to the entire base. *(We still don't have our cars so my travel distance is based precisely on how long I can make it before the kid starts whining that her feet hurt and she's tired and it's hot and blah blah blah.)* The TLF has a nice little courtyard, and from there you can see the mountains all while smelling the ocean. It's amazing. And let me tell you, these are some gorgeous mountains. I have been to the Rockys and the Appalachians...nothing compared to this. These are the take your breath away make you believe in Jesus mountains that people talk about. And they do. I'm going to have so many pictures of mountains in three years, it'll be sick.

We haven't found the ocean yet...maybe find is not the right word. It's not really lost, is it? A friend here told me how to get to one and as soon as our errands are done for the week, Bug and I are going! I'm very excited. I can't wait to add the Pacific to the list of bodies of water I have been in.

Our car is due on Friday, and we have settled in as best we can to the TLF. I'm still trying to figure out how to 'cook' for the three of us with a microwave and a grill only, which is quite the adventure. We've done ok so far, but it's only been about three days. I have made the call to mom for help and I am about to email my grandmother. Hopefully they will come up with something.

I will say, this experience has really solidified the fact that I am a Marine Corps Spouse now. I mean, I knew that before, but how many women have to make a hotel room in to a home? And let me tell you, this is not a Four Seasons four star kind of joint. It is one big room with two beds, a bathroom, a fridge, sink, and microwave. The 'kitchen' area does come with a table that my husband barely fits at with the two of us there as well. We have six drawers and a closet with 10 coat hangers for all our clothes. We also have no idea how long we will be living here. It has been frustrating, to say the least.

All this, combined with the stress of husband starting at a new shop, us having no transportation, and having no one to interact with during the day other than each other *(and yes, some random people we meet in the courtyard)* has led to an interesting weekend. All three of us are pretty stressed out right now, and it's like we just feed off each other. I'm hoping now that he has the job to go to and get settled in to and Bug and I are finding more to do each day, it will get better. I'm also hoping that we get a house soon.

Well, I'd like to say I'm about to go walk some errands, but apparently my eyes are allergic to this wonderful place and while they have been taking turns being swollen, today, they are both. So I'm off to lay a cold cloth on my face and listen to Alice In Wonderland!

Leaving friends

I lived in North Carolina for ten months. I was involved with the Marine Corps life in Virginia for seven months. Yet I was more upset about leaving Virginia friends than NC friends. I wonder why this is. I can't decide if it is because this time, when I move, husband is coming with me. But that doesn't really make sense, because when I moved to NC, I was moving towards him. I also keep thinking, well, maybe it's because I was leaving my home and family. But...nope, I was SO ready to get out of Virginia. And it's the friends I was leaving behind, really. But I knew the Quantico girls for even less time than I've known the Cherry Point girls. So, what gives?

*(This sounds silly but I'm not including college or other friends in this. They've been my friends for years, and I know where ever I go in this crazy world, they will still be my friends, if for no other reason than the vacation spot!)*

All the goodbyes in NC were pretty swift, even with girls I really thought I'd become good friends with. Last visit, hug, goodbye. That was it. There were BBQs and tears and speeches when I left Quantico. Sometimes, I really think that my Quantico friends have ruined my perceptions for my future Marine Corps friends. They did everything SO well, I'm just not sure anyone else will be as good.

This is going to be one thing that I'm not sure I will ever get used to--moving and leaving behind all my friends. I guess I have to.

I will say, I'm very excited to find that base friend that is just my favorite person down there. Obviously, she won't be as wonderful as the four girls I'm moving away from, but it's important to have good friends where ever you go. I didn't really have that girlfriend in NC, and it was hard. When I had free time, who could I call? I wasn't sure. That sucked. When I just wanted to talk to someone in person, who was there? The kid, who is wonderful and smart, but doesn't quite understand. So I'm quite excited to finally have that local girlfriend I call call whenever and we can run somewhere together.

Hopefully I find her. I know it's hard to make new friends. It was even hard in a place I lived for most of my life. It's like dating. I keep building myself up that I'm going to have to just suck it up and 'make the first move,' as they say. I remember telling one girl at Quantico that I liked her and wanted to be her friend. It worked out, so hopefully that trick works again. I can be pretty outgoing when I want to, and I hope that if I keep telling myself that I need to make friends, then I have to be outgoing, it will work. We'll see.

I'll keep you updated. :)

Military Wife

Someone gave me this and I just loved it, so I'm sharing it.

A Military wife can be tough to describe.
She is a southern belle, a northeastern Mets fan, a California 3rd generation recycler, a Pacific Islander.
She is short or tall, a tomboy, a fashion diva.
A physician's assistant.
A Republican, a Democrat.
A Military Wife is a career gal, a home-schooler, a scrapbooker, an accomplished cellist, an auto mechanic.

What IS a Military Wife?
WHAT is a Military Wife?
What is a MILITARY Wife?

They may look different and each is wonderfully unique, but this they have in common.
They have THIS in common:
Lots of moving--
Moving, moving, moving, far from home, moving two cars, three kids, and one dog--all riding with her of course,
Moving sofas to basements because they won't go in THIS house,
Moving curtains that won't fit,
Moving jobs and certifications and professional development hours,
Moving away from old friends, moving towards new ones,
Moving her most important luggage; her trunk full of memories.
Often waiting--
Waiting, waiting, waiting for housing,
Waiting for orders,
Waiting for deployment,
Waiting for reunions,
Waiting for phone calls,
Waiting for the new curtains to arrive,
Waiting for him to come home for dinner--AGAIN.

They call her a 'military dependent,' but she knows better.
She can balance a checkbook, handle the yard work, fix a noisy toilet.
She is intimately familiar with drywall, anchors, and toggle bolts.
She can file taxes, sell a house, buy a car, or set up a move--all with ONE Power of Attorney.

She welcomes neighbors that don't welcome her,
Reinvents her career with each PCS.
Locates a house in the desert, the arctic, or the deep south, and learns to call them all home.
She MAKES them all home.

She is fiercely IN-dependent.


Military Wives are somewhat hasty.
They leap into decorating, leadership, volunteering, career alternatives, churches, and friendships.
They don't have 15 years to get to know people.
Their roots are short but flexible.
They plant annuals for themselves, and perennials for those who come after them.

Military Wives quickly learn to value each other.
They connect over coffee, rely on the spouse-network, and accept offers of friendship and favors and record addresses in pencil.
Military Wives have a common bond.

The Military Wife has a husband unlike other husbands.
His commitment is unique.
He doesn't have a job, he has a 'mission' he can't just decide to quit.
He's on-call for his country 24/7, but for you, he's the most unreliable guy in town!
His language is foreign: TDY, PCS, OPR, ACC, BDU.
And so, a Military Wife is a translator for her family and his.
She is the long distance link to keep them informed, the glue that holds them together.

A Military Wife has her moments--
She wants to wring his neck, dye his uniform pink, and refuse to move to Siberia.

But she pulls herself together.

Give her a few days, a travel brochure, a long hot bath, a pledge to the flag, and a wedding picture.

And she goes.

She packs.
She moves.
She follows.

Why?
What for?
How come?

You may think it is because she has lost her mind.
But actually, it is because she has lost her heart.

It was stolen from her by a man
Who puts duty first,
Who longs to deploy,
Who salutes the flag,
Whose boots in the doorway remind her that
As long as he is her Military Husband,
She will remain his Military Wife.

Money Can't Buy You Love

I am unemployed.

I hate it. But I have accepted *(kind of)* that there is nothing I can do about it now. I looked for months when I got to NC, and just...nothing. I mean, I have a degree in English, and Books A Million wouldn't freaking hire me. *(Maybe they knew I'd just spend all my paycheck there?)* So, with everything we knew was coming, hubs and I discussed it and decided it would be a smarter choice if I just stopped looking and Bug stayed home with me.

Most days, I am fine with this. My husband is insanely smart financially, and we are definitely not hurting at all, like so many military families I know, so for that, I am thankful. We are pretty much debt free--all we pay each month are our bills. My credit card is zero, his never had a balance, and 'we' have paid off our two cars. I say 'we' because I had nothing to do with it. My husband is much better at the we part of finances. So you know, we pay rent, water, cable, etc. I'm getting pretty good at keeping that power bill tiny. We don't overspend, I'm getting better at being frugal *(though I won't deny the urge to buy *another* purse hits me every so often.)*, etc., etc.

However, every once in a while, something will happen that makes me get really upset about the fact that I am in no way contributing financially to this house. I KNOW about the whole stay at home mom argument, and believe me, some of my favorite people are SAHMs. They are better, stronger, braver women than I. It's odd, because I am not even one of those crazy career minded women--heck, I still am not sure what I want to be when I grow up. *(No age jokes.)* But...I like having a job. My wonderful parents, who provided amazingly for my sister and I, did a pretty good job teaching me to work for what I want. Granted, they covered a lot of what I needed, but that message about wants got there--if I want to go on that trip to Paris, I better save. If I want that new shirt, don't come to them. So, after 27 years of that, it's been insanely difficult for me to be the opposite.

It's not even that my husband won't buy me such things--he will, and he has. But he knows it frustrates me. He's very kind about my feelings, and I am eternally grateful. I don't want to ask if I can have something, like a new book. I just want to buy myself the new gd book. My friends say I will get over this, that eventually I will get used to saying our money, but I wonder when. Granted, we haven't been married very long, but I'm still looking forward to the day I don't feel guilty enough to cry over needing new t-shirts because mine all have holes--which happened. It was like something was eating them.

And then, every once in a while, the reason for this guilt is something more serious than shoes or a purse. *(I know. Who knew that was even possible?)* I took one of our cars to the shop today to get it checked out for the long journey it's about to make. After I paid the $230 fee for a basic check up/oil change/tire rotation, the guy told me that our car--which is a 2008, by the way--needs roughly $600 more in work. Uh...what? Oh, and I'm going back tomorrow to spend about $350 on the other car. And then, in two weeks, we will be shipping the first car to Hawaii to the tune of roughly $2,200. And let's not forget bills, getting uniforms ready for the new batallion, and the looming prospect of being in a hotel room with no kitchen-only a microwave and mini-fridge-for up to 4 months, if we get lucky.

Basically, I'm terrified. And you know, I'm technically only Catholic by birth, but good Lord, I still get their guilt. Again, wonderful husband was only mad about it for a second *(who wouldn't be after a text saying, well, I just dropped $230, but it needs $600 more?! I'd have been furious.)* and as soon as he remembered that this was basic maintenance, not 'Wifey ran the car into a tree,' he was fantastic about it. And again, thanks to the fact that he's financially brilliant, we are fine, and this will not hurt us.

But...dammit, I wish I could help. I'm the one who drives this car, I can't even help pay for anything. Last time it needed gas, he had to do it. I hate this feeling. Hate. I think part of it is that both the grown up jobs I have held were...boring. And tedious. And so I know how much it sucks to work, and I didn't have to share my money with anyone. I wouldn't have wanted to, not after what I had to put up with to earn it. So why should he?

I have heard from several of my military spouse friends just how hard it is to get a job--the locals know we will only be there for a short time, you will be overqualified/underqualified, there won't be any jobs in your field, so don't get picky, etc. At first, I felt fine with this. I have no real career field *(yes, I want to be a teacher, but I haven't done it yet, so it's not like I'm aching for it.)*, so hey--as long as I get a job. But at the same time, I busted my butt for a long time to get a degree. I don't want to work at the gas station. I know that sounds bad, but I did not waste my parent's hard earned money to make change.

I'm just hoping that even if I do have a job--since we know mine are always temporary--I will eventually be able to call it our money, or just buy myself a book, or heck, that new purse, without feeling guilty.

All I can say now is, I hope Hawaii has some jobs, and thank goodness for all the amazing volunteer opportunities there are on a base.

Whine, whine, whine.

I started this little blog to write about all the fun new things I am dealing with as a Marine Corps spouse. Now, most of you *(I say as though tons of people are reading this...)* know that while I'm a new spouse, I've been dealing with the Marine Corps somewhat seriously for more than a year now. Thank you deployment and me taking Bug *(because she is my Love Bug. Get it?)* while he was gone. After the fight I had with TriCare last year, I really thought I wouldn't have TOO many more issues, or that I'd be somewhat more prepared. That is false.

We are moving. And not just from one part of the state to another, as so often happens in this area. Not even from one side of the country to the other. No, we are moving halfway across the world. One would think that after YEARS of the Marine Corps doing this, the process would be smooth. Again, false. This has been so frustrating. I think the worst part is that there seems to be no consensus on whether or not this is an OCONUS or CONUS move. We are moving OUTSIDE the continental United States, but we are still in the United States. Believe me, I see the confusion. However, I am not in charge of this. We've been told that we need our passports, but then that we have to drive our cars. Really? I just need someone, somewhere, to figure this out and let me know.

Aside from all the drama involving that *(let's not talk about the fact that the moving company told me the date that they'd be arriving and packing all our worldly goods, or that we still don't know our flight date, or that no one has even offered *advice* on shipping our cars...we'll skip all that)*, I am starting to realize how much it's really going to suck to be so far away from everyone. And don't start in on the whole, you'll be in Hawaii, so shut up thing. It doesn't matter. You go to a tiny island thousands of miles away from everyone you know, knowing that plane tickets to see you cost literally thousands of dollars, and let's talk about how excited you are. I am excited, believe me. But I'm going to whine. It's my blog and you can't stop me. Here are just SOME of the reasons I'm anxious about this.

1. What if I don't get a job? There are schools there, clearly, but I've heard that they have crazy furloughs going on. Also, if they are hiring right now, why would they hire me, who has NEVER taught before, over someone who has been teaching for years? And yes, I can hear you now--if you don't get a job, just hang out on the beach! Hello, I have crazy guilt. I cannot do that while my dear husband works all day. I don't do it now because it would make me feel bad. How could I do it in PARADISE?

2. My parents don't know if they'll be able to make it out before 2012. 2012!! Just to clarify, that is almost two years away. I'm not a baby or anything, but holy crap that's a long time.

3. I would write about my sister not being able to come, but thanks to the circumstances *(one of which is quite a bummer)*, she'll actually be there in October. Hurrah!

4. My best friends literally live across the street from the each other. I mean, you can stand on one front porch and yell to the other. I don't even know if you need to yell. Just speak loudly. And, as immature as this sounds, I have this fear that I am going to be left out. How could I not? I feel that way already *(though they are not doing anything to make me feel as such)* and I live three hours away. Soon, I won't even be a three hour PLANE RIDE away. Ugh.

So there you go. Four pretty good reasons to be a bit nervous. There are a lot more, but after this, even I can tell myself it's Hawaii, so shut up.

Ok, time for bed. In the morning, I have to start getting the cars ready for the long drive ahead of them. ...yeah. Or I have to get them inspected and updated for their trip on a boat. Hopefully they don't throw any crazy questions at me like I might know something about the cars...