I am selfish. Not in the overt, "MEMEME" way, but a more subtle, quiet kind of selfish. The kind that others would never pick up on, but the kind that makes me slightly uncomfortable to be sitting in my own skin. The kind that I decided to face head-on one random Tuesday afternoon. 

My world revolves entirely around me, Zack, and my loved ones. Basically every thought & action I have in some way is related to myself, my husband who I'm probably too obsessed with, & my family or close friends. I'm not a bad person, I'd even go so far as to say I'm a good person. And sure I have a great deal of empathy for others- I frequently cry when reading sad news articles, donate my old clothes to Goodwill, or give a couple bucks to a homeless man. But after a few brief moments of absolute sadness for another human being, I seamlessly resume my charmed little life, and that moment of connection with someone whose life is a lot less rosy than mine, is lost in the air.

Since moving from Germany (which was 2.5 years of nothing but selfish desires- "I'm sure there are starving people out there, but I'm in Italy so you can bet your life I'm gonna get a third scoop of gelato." Not saying anything is wrong with that, there's a time & place for everything, and I knew that lifestyle wasn't forever, so I took full advantage.) I have done little more than pass my time with what I, or Zack, wanted. I fixed up our new home, we traveled around the Midwest, I did almost every single crafty thing found on Pinterest, I delved into photography, and I floated around in my perfect bubble of a life.

For the past few months, I have had the tinniest feeling that seemed to pull on my shirttail and sometimes kept me awake for a few moments longer at night. At first I didn't know what it was. Was I bored? Did I need to find a job? Did we need to have a baby? What was this strange little pull on my heart? My puzzlement continued until one day I was walking down our hallway and it hit me dead in the face- no more messing around- it meant business & wasn't going to leave until I had heard it out. 

You need to be more giving. Stop thinking entirely of yourself & the small circle of people around you, and open up your eyes. This world is a very big place, and there is a lot of sadness and hurt in it. However small, you have the power to take away at least a tiny bit of that heartache. Start now. 

I didn't know where to begin. Because we're moving in a few weeks, I knew I didn't want to get involved in a volunteer organization. Then my mind went to the holidays that are quickly approaching. Of course there are a number of things I would love to have for Christmas (new computer, new camera, new lenses, new boots, blahblahblah) but do I truly need any of that right at this moment? Was it going to make me any happier to wake up on Christmas morning and see any of those things underneath the tree? Was my heart going to be any fuller, or my days any brighter, because of the material objects I want? Probably not. So what then? What to do? I haven't decided. What Zack & I have decided to do is use the money we'd spend on gifts for each other, and put it towards helping someone who needs it more. What exactly that means, we're not sure, but I trust that the answer will be placed on our hearts. I hope that original feeling of discontentment can manifest into something great, something changing in my very nature. Whether it's through using my hands, our money, my writing or photography- I hope I can find something inside of me that is of use to the world, to people that need it.

I struggled with even posting this. I'm not writing this because I want anyone who reads this to think, "Oh wow, what a selfless act. She must be a really good person." I am writing this because I have been inspired by others' blogs that feature altruistic acts, and if even one single person is inspired by mine, then that's a good thing.

I am still going to Instagram too much, still going to buy that infinity scarf I want, and still lament over the fact that my hips will never fit into a size zero. I'll still drink good red wine, and still meticulously inspect my split ends and chipped sparkle nail polish. Only now, those things are going to take up only a small space in my life, as they should. The world is too vast, too troubled to let anything more reign over your heart. God, luck, the Universe and fate have been on my side my whole life. What an injustice if I didn't take some of that gold and help others see the beauty that is simply being alive. 

"It is not only for what we do that we are held responsible, but also for what we do not do."

-Moliere

but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need

The last 12 hours have been a little crazy. We found out where we're going to be stationed for the next 3 years....DRUM roll please.....Ft. Drum, our #2 choice! It's funny how things seem so different in the light of day. Last night when Zack got the email, I felt like my heart dropped straight out of my body. It wasn't so much the fact that we got Drum (which I have only ever heard awesome things about) but that we didn't get Bragg. I know, I know I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up for Bragg, but telling myself not to get my hopes up for something is absolutely pointless- because I simply can't help it. I had my obligatory, Linda Blair circa Exorcist freak out (sad to say this is not an exaggeration) for a few hours last night when we found out. If my head could have spun around, it would have. Times fifty. 

But sitting in the soft morning light drinking a cup of coffee, last night seems so bizarrely unnecessary. No, not unnecessary. That's how I deal with disappointment- I have my moment (or hours, whatever) of absolute dramatics that include crying, screaming, sobbing, scream-crying, etc. and I get every last drop of emotion out, and then...miraculously, I am recovered. I have to have that self-indulgent moment and allow myself to get my disappointments out through whatever means they want to come out, and then I pull my big girl panties on and get on with it, with a genuine smile on my face. Ft. Drum will be fabulous because we will make it fabulous, and because we will be together. I'm already discovering a lot of awesome things about the area (3.5 hours from Montreal, 30 miles from the Canadian border, we'll get to see all of upstate New York, Vermont, Maine, New Hampshire...all places I've wanted to travel, and it snows a ridiculous amount so I'll get to use my Sorel snow boots I never got to use in Germany!) One of my friends from back in the days of the good ol' USMAGF club (West Point Girlfriends...so many lolz associated with that, I can't even) is stationed there with her husband and they absolutely love it, so I'm looking forward to getting all of the insider information from her & getting to hang out with them. 

Another slight hiccup in my daily routine- I checked my work email this morning and had a not-so-nice message from a user on the site I've been advertising with- Bookoo (A Craigslist sort of thing for the military community.) 

"So not professional. Hobby photographer! See my post about photography on bookoo please!" along with a fake username & email. Her post on Bookoo (which has subsequently been removed) was a rambling rant about how she is sick of seeing all these wannabe photographers who suck, undercutting the prices of all her professional photographer friends. You get what you pay for, blah blah blah.

It's funny, everyone with whom I have worked has gone out of their way to praise my work so I was actually wondering the other day when I'd get my first negative feedback. I was thinking more along the lines of an actual client, though, not being satisfied with the work I presented them with. Not some bored stranger who has probably never even looked at my pictures. I wondered if I should even respond, if it'd be worth crafting a response. I decided I should, mostly to stress the fact that I am by no means whatsoever calling myself a professional. Nowhere near it, in fact. I know I have so much work, and a lot of learning to do before I am at the point I'd like to be professionally. However....doesn't everyone have to start somewhere? If some of the photographers I admire started out with top of the line equipment, taking awe-inspiring pictures straight out of the box with a complete mastery of Photoshop, then I should just quit now. But I'm willing to bet they had to stumble and climb to where they are now. This was my response:

"I don't believe the word "professional" is included anywhere in my post, but I am flattered you'd suggest such! I never claimed to be professional, as I am just starting out. (Hence the price...trust me, I would be charging far more if I thought my work was at the level I want it to be.) Everyone has to start somewhere, and this is my starting place. Talented as I am sure all of your many photographer friends are, they had to start somewhere as well. This is how I am choosing to start: by offering relatively low rates but still high-quality images while working to build a portfolio, client base, confidence, & skills.

Fortunately for me, the FLW Bookoo community has been nothing but incredible thus far. That's what a good military community does: build each other up and give support, not attempt to tear each other down for no apparent reason other than pure boredom (or the Bookoo Photographer Police- what a noble cause! I am sure everyone can sleep much sounder at night, knowing you're policing all those "hobbyist photographers.") Also fortunately for me, the response from the many clients I have booked has been overwhelmingly positive- every last one has been amazed with the pictures they've received, and have even suggested I should raise my prices. However, as I am JUST starting out (as I have attempted to reiterate to you), I would not feel right charging more. Thank goodness we live in America, where people have the freedom to pick any photographer they like-  a really great feeling, isn't it?

I really appreciate your interest in my business, but might I suggest you pick up photography as a hobby yourself? I think it's very apparent you need one.

I talked to my Daddy about it, and of course he made me feel better. He said, "You know, it's actually a good thing you got that email. It means you're cutting into the professional's work and they don't like that. If you weren't any good, they'd just leave you alone." She tried to come back with a response attempting to make me feel silly:

Eliza,

The post wasn't directed to anyone specific. So there really was no need for you to take time out of your busy day to send me such a lengthy comment defending your work. I merely posted it as an opinion. As you stated, this is America. So I am entitled to utltlize my freedom of speech. I'm sorry you clearly feel my comment is detrimental to your business and if you don't why would you bother saying anything? I would suggest some thicker skin if you continue to persue photography. As I've seen through friends, it's a tough business and if you can't take comments that weren't even directed towards you, I'd hate to see how you deal with negative feedback. Yes, good on you for not having any thus far. But you have to be realistic and realize that not everyone is going to love the work you present them with. That's just a fact of life.

Good luck and God Bless,

Bee Bee

Not directed at anyone specific? Then why email me instructing me to read it? And ah, "God Bless." Yes, God bless you dear, kind woman- spreading the gospel of Jesus Christ through your selfless acts of photography critiques, doing unto others as Jesus would do unto you (and surely Jesus has disdain for wannabe photographers, right?) Perhaps she should petition for an 11th commandment- "Thou shalt not try to start a photography business." But really, she's right about the thick skin. I know I need to get mine toughened up, but I'd rather it come from people who have actually paid me to take their picture and are dissatisfied with what they're given and could actually give me some constructive, specific criticism, rather than a sad, bored Army wife. One thing I hate about military life: there are some absolute nutso wives out there- we're talking levels of crazy you wouldn't believe. But I guess that's just life in general. 

This is what I've been working on. Is my work where I want it to be? Nowhere close. Am I proud of what I have done, with what I have, thus far? Absolutely. 

Happiness isn't a feeling. It's a choice. 

And I am choosing to be happy, so happy my heart feels like it might burst.

"If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell. I'll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of my days."

- Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar 

 

today

I woke up this morning immediately realizing the date and feeling sorrowful in ways you can't really express. I was drinking my morning coffee with Zack at the breakfast table when I felt the tears well up in my eyes. I tried biting the inside of my mouth to stop them as I looked out the window, hoping Zack wouldn't see my glistening eyes. It's not that I'm afraid to cry in front of my husband (goodness knows that's not the case), it's just- I had no idea where this sudden onset of emotion came from. I was as confused by it as anyone, and I didn't want to try to explain something that I didn't fully understand myself. In any case, Zack immediately noticed my pale face and quivering lip and softly said, "hey...what's wrong?" You know when you're fighting tears and you'd probably be able to suppress them- but then someone gives you a kind glance or a warm touch and you just lose it like you've never lost it before? That happened. He wrapped me up in a tight hug and asked me again- "what is wrong?" All I could manage to get out was, "I'm...sad." 

"I'm sad." What a small phrase for emotions- for a day- so big. It barely seems appropriate to simply say, "I am sad." But I am- I am so deeply sad for so much, for so many today. 

Every single person I know remembers that day- how can we not? It ripped itself into America's history book, leaving a deep, smoldering mark across the pages and chapters for years to come. It's been 11 years and the wound still aches for us- maybe not the searing pain we felt in the cold months of 2001, but it's a quiet ache that I don't think will ever go away.

I was wearing pale blue corduroy pants with a white t shirt that had a pink eagle on it and said "All-American girl." I walked into my science classroom and immediately knew something was not right. The TV was on, and my teacher- Mr. Bryant- was frantically pushing buttons on his cell phone in the hallway. (I later learned he had a daughter at NYU, hence his panic.) Normally without a teacher present in the classroom, we would take full advantage to act like heathens. This day was different. Even though we didn't really know, we knew the world was changing- something horrible was happening. We sat in silence watching the second plane hit. I remember being so cold. I couldn't stop shaking. 

We moved to our next period, and then the school put us on lock-down. We lived in an Air Force base town, and waves of unfounded rumors rippled through the hallways that we would probably be targeted by the terrorists. Terrorists? I tried that word in my mouth, saying it a few times, letting the three syllables roll over my tongue. It was a somewhat foreign word to me, to a lot of the American youth. Terrorist. I still don't like feeling the word in my mouth, but it's no longer a stranger. 

My mommy took me out of school early that day. I still don't know if she was worried for my safety or just wanted to hug me tightly. My parents always did an amazing job of letting me and my brothers know how much we were cherished, but that day in particular I remember so much love flowing through our home.

As the days wore on, we began to resume our everyday lives. The images of planes hitting buildings and people leaping from windows no longer consumed my morbid thoughts and eventually people stopped wearing American flag t-shirts and being overly nice to each other. But the day still haunts us- 11 years later, and it is still a dull throb.


There really was no point to this post- I have no clever words or nice tidy way to wrap this post up. I just wanted to say that on this day, I am sad. Tomorrow I will be happy, but today my heart hurts. 

our timeline

August 1998- We met & became friends quickly. I've always been able to read people, and sense a person's heart. He had a good one.

May 2005- Had our first kiss at our high school graduation party. I accidentally rolled down a hill afterwards because I was so excited. We spent the night in the back of his pickup truck in a field in the middle of Georgia. When I woke up the next morning, I had a feeling the world would look different from that moment on. It did. It does.

June 2005- He came to visit me in North Carolina before he left for Beast at West Point. We sat on my roof at night and he had electric blue hair. I fell so hard.

March 2006- Officially became "boyfriend/girlfriend" even though we had been "talking" for almost a full year, and I had accumulated a box brimming with love letters postmarked from New York. 

April 2007- We broke up. It was a Sunday afternoon and I had just returned from the gym. I was an RA at my college and was chattering on the phone to him about something that had happened in my dorm earlier that day. He stopped me and quietly said, "We need to talk." I don't really remember the next few weeks, that kind of hurt does a number on your senses, on your spatial awareness, on your whole universe.

January 2008- He & a friend came to visit me at college. I had a boyfriend at the time, so nothing emerged between us, but it was there. Oh it was always there- I just had enough dates, enough nice guys, & enough frozen margaritas to keep me laughing so I wouldn't turn around and catch it staring me in the face. 

27 December 2009- He was flying into NC to attend a friend's wedding, so I picked him up from the Greensboro airport. I was wearing my Hollister work attire- skinny dark jeans & a navy sweater that I kept tugging at nervously. I saw him come down the elevator in jeans, a white thermal shirt, and a UGA baseball cap and my heart went straight to my throat. I had not prepared for this. We ate dinner at an Applebee's and both of our hearts seemed to have forgotten the last 2 and a half years. This was not the plan.

31 December 2009- On 2 hours of sleep, I drove him halfway to Atlanta. We joked nervously in the car about me moving to Germany with him. I dropped him off at a Waffle House, expecting to never see him again. I could hardly read the text message he sent me, for all the tears blurring my eyes. "I can't even eat my eggs. All I can think of is you." 

22 January 2010- Again, he flew to NC. Again, my heart leaped to my throat, this time in the Guilford County courthouse. I was in jeans and fake pearls, he was wearing khakis and the most genuine smile I've ever seen. We had matching gold bands, and the world couldn't touch us. We were married. It was the craziest, yet most sound decision I have ever made. 

2 May 2010- I moved to Germany to be with him. He gave me a rose at the Frankfurt Airport and from that moment on, I was enamored with him and Europe. We joke that we had a two-year European honeymoon. I guess we really did.

31 December 2010- We had our "real" wedding for all of our family & friends. It was wonderful having everyone together for such a special New Year's Eve, but it didn't come close to that blustery January day when he & I stood in an empty courtroom, shaking & crying & saying yes a million times over. 

22 February 2011- He deployed to Afghanistan and I thought my eyes would never dry. I've never ached so physically for another person. But we became much stronger, both as a couple and as individuals.

14 February 2012- He came home. Still the same sweet and sincere Zack that left one year prior. I didn't take my eyes off of him for days. 

Present- Living in the middle of Missouri, trying to figure out the future, and still looking forward to forehead kisses in the morning & the sound of his truck coming home.

Sometimes I just feel like I have won the husband jackpot lottery.

That is all. 

wack/wonderful Wednesdays

wack

1. Did you know it is possible to eat your weight in watermelon? Because it is. I achieved this feat today.

2. I have been sleepy all day, because Coley & I stayed up until 2AM talking & laughing (which in my old woman world, might as well have been an all-nighter.) Worth it- I was seriously blessed in the little brother department.

3. Facebook was even more obnoxious today than usual. Here's the thing y'all: I get on Facebook to stalk your pictures & maintain a mild interest in what is going on in your life. It is not possible for me to care any less about your political views. I have my opinions- plenty of them, in fact. But I prefer to shove my kissy pics down the throats of my Facebook friends, not my beliefs on whether or not I think eating a chicken sandwich makes me homophobic.

wonderful

1. New yoga mat.

2. I actually went running today- in the midday heat, nonetheless. For the laziest of lazies, this is an accomplishment. I will get to my goal weight.

3. I got to have a fabulous dinner with my parents & grandparents at 2520, an awesome restaurant in Clemmons. Chicken livers (yet another food I thought I didn't like that I do), lobster nachos (y'all..), & blackened chicken over corn & black bean ravioli with an avocado cream sauce. It was so nice getting to visit with them. 

4. A glass of sparkling white wine. I have been doing really well with not drinking my calories (as per usual) but tonight I was craving some wine. So I had some. And it was delicious. 

 

Lagos, Portugal

For some (odd) reason, Portugal was never on my MUST SEE list while in Europe. It seemed like a nice enough place, I just had no burning desire to go there. Our friends Nick & Jamie had gone to Faro a short time ago, and highly recommended we go to Portugal on one of our last weekends living in Europe. So we packed some swimsuits, hopped a RyanAir flight, and ended up in what quickly became one of my most favorite places yet. 

After landing in Faro, we ducked into a questionable little snack bar & grabbed some food and a bottle of wine (which I drank from- straight) and took a two hour train ride to our destination along the Algarve Coast- Lagos. The sunset train ride was quite relaxing until I realized check-in at our hotel ended at 20:00, and we wouldn't get there until at least 22:30. After calling repeatedly, I finally got a call saying someone would be there to let us in. Worst case- I had already decided we would just stay up & party all night, then sleep on the beach until check-in time. [Un]fortunately, the crisis was averted, and we slept soundly in our hotel bed that night. 

At 6AM Saturday morning, I was jolted awake to what I thought was a small child being murdered and/or a pig being slaughtered. I lay completely still in the soft morning light until I realized the horrible screeching noise I was hearing was...seagulls. I went to investigate, and found there was a seagull colony living directly beside our room. Nice. I wasn't too upset with my early morning wake-up call though, because it gave us a full day, instead of lazily stretching awake at 11AM. Zack & I walked around the town because nothing was open for a few hours, and discovered a few beaches that seriously took your breath away when you first saw them. We saw lemon trees and lemon-colored houses, vibrant flowers that I had no idea what they were, and cliffs that ended in abrupt drop-offs into the jewel-colored ocean. 

Once the stores began opening, we grabbed some breakfast & lunch essentials at a nearby grocery store, and set off for Praia da Dona Ana- a large beach we found on our morning explorations. It was only 10AM by the time we got our mats settled on the beach, but it was already filling up. We lay out for a while, but decided to walk around the rocks & coves, to reach another- more secluded- beach. 

We read, drank cheap Portuguese beer, and ate pineapples until our tongues were raw. We were having an incredible time, until the perv came. Zack was sleeping & I was reading, when I noticed a Speedo-wearing man come sit down on our little private beach and face us (instead of the ocean) while sitting on his towel featuring a drawing of a naked woman. I didn't think too much of it, until I noticed a rapid movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned, and the man had his Speedo off, legs spread, and ... yeah. All while staring at me. I literally froze. I have never had anything like that happen to me, and it was incredibly violating and disturbing. I wanted to burst into tears, or run away to another beach. Instead I shakily whispered down to Zack, "Don't get up too fast, but there is a man over there doing something he shouldn't be doing." Zack casually rolled up, but by that point the creep had put his clothes back on and was just staring out at the ocean. Zack asked if I wanted to leave, but I said no. This was our beach and it was beautiful and I wasn't budging. After a while, Zack fell back asleep and I continued to read. I look up, and again the man is doing it. Something about the fact that he had the audacity to continue and look me in the eyes while doing it struck a chord in me, and I felt fury rise up into my throat and the words started spilling out before I could stop them. "STOP IT. THAT IS DISGUSTING. GO AWAY. I DON'T WANT TO SEE THAT!" I shouted while getting up and running at him. (I am sure a few other choice words were added in there, as well.) He jumped up and began sprinting off the beach, looking quite terrified. I chased him off the beach until I lost sight of him. Zack was just sort of standing there, in shock I presume that his normally all bark & no bite wife could be so ferocious, watching the (now hilarious) scene unfold. It was a proud moment, and we went right back to enjoying the rest of the day. 

After our sun-soaked eventful day, I took an epic nap that was one for the books. That evening, we went to Nah Nah Bah- an incredible burger place that if you're ever in Lagos, you must visit. The menu itself is entertaining, and the restaurant has such an effortlessly cool vibe that I almost felt inadequate. It's run by young ex-pats, with hostesses & bartenders that look like Victoria Secret models. (Not the best self-esteem booster when you're shoveling greasy chips & a burger the size of your face into your mouth.) But everyone was so friendly- it was hard to not feel at ease. I had the Toucan Burger, Zack had the Blue Ball Buster, and we got extra chips because...why not?

After waddling out of Nah Nah Bah, we ventured down to the empty, moon-lit beach and played around until we got sleepy. Also, Zack gave me one of his strange compliments- "If you were a dinosaur, you'd be a velociraptor because you're smart & clever, but vicious." I love that boy. 

 

The next morning, we awoke to clouds but fortunately it cleared off by noon and ended up being a beautiful day. I got some espresso from the local grocery store, and we had a delicious home-cooked breakfast on our balcony. The day included cave & grotto explorations, chilling wine in the cold ocean water, microwaved pizza on the beach (Zack's idea), snorkeling, Game of Thrones reading on the sand, and just absolute relaxation. 

Sunday evening we washed the sand & ocean water from our hair, and made ourselves into presentable human beings to go to dinner. Before dinner though, we enjoyed a bottle of wine on our balcony and the conversation turned into a rather heated debate over some deep, worldly issue. We realized we weren't going to waver on our stances, so we  switched to growling at passerby's on the street below. Much safer.

For dinner, we found an amazing tapas restaurant and absolutely destroyed the food and sangria. 

Our flight the next morning was stupid early, so we had to hire a shuttle to the airport. The plus side? We got to watch the sunrise over the Algarve Coast. And I'm pretty sure that's something that everyone should see once in their lifetime. 

 

I apologize for the lack of posts recently. Between traveling and preparing for the big move, my chances to sit down at a computer have been few & far between.

My head is swimming with so many loud thoughts, it's almost deafening. Leaving Europe & our first home, our last travels, the countless goodbyes, being back in the States, seeing our beloved families again, starting our new lives in Missouri, what's to come in this next chapter...I can hardly process it all.

We haven't even been back in America for 24 hours, and already Europe seems like a distant, beautiful dream. I almost feel as though we did live in a dream-like, honeymoon state for the past two years. I think one of the things I will miss most about our lives there, is our home. To see it all packed up, and then barren, broke my heart a little. 

 

Our bedroom, where our hearts & souls melded time and time again. 

 And where words of love, promise, and secrets were whispered on our big white bed.

Zack's "man cave" where we watched our favorite shows, played cards, & where I would sometimes peak my head in to just look at him lost in his work. 

The entryway- where Zack would fling open the door as I would fling myself into his arms with the same enthusiasm & joy- be it him just coming home from work, coming home after a month in the field, or coming home after a year in Afghanistan. It was always the same giddiness hearing his heavy boots coming up the stairs.

The living room, my favorite room in the house, that saw plenty of entertaining friends, deep laughs, heartfelt conversations, and where I would watch the snow fall & the sun rise. 

 The guest bedroom that housed three wonderful guests from the States (wish it could have been more!) and lots of tipsy friends, crashing after a night out. 

And the kitchen- where I learned I am actually quite domesticated & not too shabby of a cook, and where a few, precious friendships were formed over generous glasses of red wine. 

The fact that all I have of 39 Dietzenstrasse are a few pictures & my memories makes me feel quite wistful. However, I am confident that no matter what location the Army tosses us into, Zack & I will be able to create a home- built on love, laughter, & a zest for life. 

wack/wonderful Wednesdays

wack

1. This rain. It's endless.

2. An unexpected, first PCS goodbye- said hurriedly in the sandwich line at the Commissary. We ran into a good friend while grabbing lunch, and he told us he couldn't make it to our going-away dinner tomorrow evening. So we had to say our goodbyes over deli meat. 

3. Not getting much sleep last night. To say a lot is on my mind is a gross understatement, but I think my lack of sleep stemmed from a little visitor I had earlier in the day. Yesterday afternoon I spotted a monstrous spider on our bedroom ceiling. We have extremely tall ceilings- tall as in me standing on a chair with a broom might have reached the spider, but not likely tall. Anyway, I had all but forgotten it until that night- I was trying to fall asleep and my eyes drifted towards that same ceiling corner...and the creature was nowhere to be seen. PANIC MODE ACTIVATED. 

4. That awkward moment when you hear keys in the door at noon and you realize that your day thus far has consisted of... you still being in your PJ's, hair lookin' some kind of mess, haven't brushed your teeth, staring at Pinterest with a cold cup of coffee. I felt a wave of embarrassment run hot through me, so I jumped up and attempted to look as though I was doing something at the kitchen sink- but all Zack really saw when he walked into the room was a rag-a-muffin standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, mouth agape. The funny thing is- he doesn't care one bit what I choose to do with my (now bountiful) free time...but I have this internal problem with being "lazy."

wonderful

1. This rain. It's endless. And I love it. (most of the time.)

2. Getting to see one of the Sure Start babies while at the car registration place on Vogelweh (30 minutes from Baumholder!) I heard the most adorable little voice scream, "MRS. WILLEY!" and saw a blond-haired, brown-eyed little boy flying at me. Made my day. 

3. My latest culinary invention. You start to get real creative when you are moving & trying to eat everything in your house. I basically made a pizza burrito. It was awesome, that's all you need to know.

4. A trip to the KMCC mall while in the Ramstein area that might have included Cinnabon, idk. It always amazes me how much better Air Force people have it than Army. 
5. Jamie's most recent blog post had me in tears- from laughing so hard & the sad kind. 
 http://laughuntilyoufart.blogspot.de/

 

in fair Verona, where we lay our scene

The story of Romeo & Juliet has always held a special place in my heart. We read the play in either 6th or 7th grade Honors Lit, I can't remember. But I can remember that that was the first time Zack & I really became friends. We joked about the characters, and ad-libbed our own lines under our breaths while reading aloud to class. I remember stifling giggles under Mrs. Warren's watchful eye, and wracking my brain for something clever to say in return to Zack. And here we are, 14 years later- married, visiting Verona, and still giggling. 

We had nearly four days to spend in Venice, so we figured we would use one of those to hop over to Verona. Armed with meringue (basically giant Lucky Charms...amazing) and books, we rode about an hour and a half West of Venice, to the fair city. After leaving the train station, we began our usual wanderings and strolled the pretty streets. We saw the Verona Arena, a bunch of presumably old buildings, and Casa di Giulietta- Juliet's house. 

Speaking of, that is where all the tourists were- cramped like sardines into a tiny little courtyard covered in graffiti, gazing up wistfully at an ordinary balcony (purported to be Juliet's), and taking kissy pics like star-crossed lovers. I didn't have the heart to tell them that Romeo Montague & Juliet Capulet are fictional characters, born in the brilliant depths of Shakespeare's mind. I figured doing so would be akin to looking a four-year-old in the eyes and flatly declaring the non-existence of Santa Claus. So I graciously let all the tourists continue to wait in line for hours to go up on Juliet's balcony and listen to the (butchered) lines their significant other would yell up to them. 

We walked along the river until we found a little restaurant to eat lunch, even though it was well past 2 PM. They didn't have an English menu, and we were feeling awfully brave, so we just sort of picked something that sounded vaguely good. I know "good" is a really subjective word, but I don't know who in their sane mind would consider what we got as being anywhere near the realm of "good." I am pretty sure Zack got some sort of animal's tongue and I got raw beef. I managed to choke mine down (food is food y'all) but poor Zack who is normally a very adventurous eater, couldn't muster more than three bites of his. Luckily we had bread and a liter of wine, so we walked away from the table somewhat satisfied and a little day-tipsy.  

For some reason or another, we thought it'd be fun to climb a bunch of steep stairs that I thought would never end. (Zack found my struggle to get up the stairs just hilarious and documented my journey with the camera.) The climb was worth it, though, as the views of Verona were breathtaking. We admired the beauty below us, and rested our burning quads atop a stone ledge. The sun and red wine had our eyelids feeling heavy, so we accidentally took a nap on top of the city. I woke myself up when I almost rolled off the side in my sleep. There are worse ways to die, but I am glad my life didn't end at the bottom of an Italian ravine. Although it would kind of be romantic, I suppose. But only if Zack jumped to his death too. 

"Never was a story of more woe,

than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

Side note: I had Baz Luhrmann's Romeo + Juliet soundtrack in my head almost the entire time we were in Verona. That was the 2nd CD I got (second only to Hanson) and I still know every song in that movie by heart. 

Do that Romeo, that go-go Romeo
I see you twist and turn, 

you look so stupid, happy and numb

Venezia

"If you read a lot, nothing is as great as you've imagined. Venice is — Venice is better."

-Fred Lebowitz

Venice stole my heart the moment I stepped into its labyrinth of beauty, as I had a feeling it would. Every time I saw a brilliant turquoise canal, I inwardly gasped a little sigh of admiration. The achingly gorgeous buildings, rising out of the water- tall, colorful, and proud. The food and wine hardly need be described- as per usual, Italian cuisine did not (for the most) disappoint. Venice, or Venezia as known to Italians, was better than anything I could have imagined. 

Finding our hotel proved to be one of the more challenging activities we have ever completed. I read somewhere that everyone gets lost in Venice. I (erroneously) assumed that my solid sense of direction & ability to recognize a place after seeing it only once paired with Zack's land nav skills, we would be a formidable opponent to Venetian streets. Within 5 minutes of being on the island, we were already confused. There are no real street signs (at least none that made sense to me), no roads (as there are no cars), and plenty of dead ends that if you don't watch where you're going, you'll end up taking a splash in a canal. What should have been a 7 minute walk according to Google Maps took us 1.5 hours, but we finally found our "hotel." Accommodations in Venice are pretty much absurd, so I booked us a questionable, but cheap, little room smack dab in the heart of the city. It was basically a room above an ancient Italian lady's home. She was adorable and spoke no English- but did somehow manage to warn us that the neighbors can see our bed from their windows and that I was "bella bella bella!" Grazie, on both accounts, signora. 

After settling in, we explored the area where we were staying. Hungry, we found a restaurant and ate what ended up being our favorite meal of the trip. Fresh bread, a pizza so big and dripping with cheese that it had to be wheeled out to us on a cart, and 2 liters of the casa de vino.

After a meal like that, we were down for the count. Our unintended afternoon nap turned into us waking up at 9 PM, disoriented and foggy. Coupled with some irritability over wasting an evening and impending rain- our night wasn't exactly note-worthy. I fell asleep to the sound of rain pattering our window awning and hoping for a better tomorrow. 

Saturday morning (7 AM) we awoke to what might possibly be the longest and most obnoxious church bells in the history of forever. I'm not kidding- I think they rang about 30 times and were so jarring that I had to rush to the window to see if we were actually staying inside a church and I had somehow missed that fact. At least it got us up early, and the day got much brighter when we found a small bakery and gorged ourselves on cappuccinos and unidentifiable (but delicious!) pastries. 

We didn't have a set plan for the day, which was fabulous, so we just began to wander. I think that was my favorite part of the trip- the aimless, casual strolling with no agenda, no pressure, and no real worry except which flavor of gelato to try next. During our meandering we found a fish market, Zack developed an intense obsession with the popular Carnival masks, I searched (in vain) for the perfect Italian leather purse, we happened upon St. Mark's Square and played with the pigeons, discovered spritz, and found out gondola rides run a mere 100 € (um, what?) 

After our morning of exploration, we took a water bus (the public transportation in Venice- so cool!) over to the lido for an afternoon of sunbathing, crab-catching, and topless women watching. The views of Venice from the Grand Canal were wonderful, and it (kind of) made up for our gondola-less trip. 

Our dinner that evening was pretty disappointing. The service was horrendous, and I'm pretty sure I've had better fried seafood at Captain D's. We extracted revenge on the restaurant by crushing all of their little bread sticks they had on the table. That'll show 'em. After finishing dinner at 10:30 (!) we took a bottle of wine down to the canal opening beside our hotel. Many typical lizack shenanigans ensued, most of which aren't fit to be put in writing. 

Sunday we took a train to Verona (which deserves it's own post entirely) for the day, but made it back to Venice in time for dinner. Our last meal in Italy was quite disenchanting. We stupidly ate at a place right off of the Grand Canal, and a 5 minute walk from the Rialto Bridge, so I knew it would be touristy and overpriced. I really wouldn't have minded those things, if the food had been decent. But the seafood risotto was some of the worst I have ever tasted, and Zack's pepperoni pizza was on par with elementary school pizza. (Actually, those rectangle pizzas made with yellow cheese that we used to get in school were pretty bomb, so this pizza was worse than an elementary school lunch.) But the conversation was good, and we talked for hours over our wine & neon-orange spritz- long after the sun dipped down. 

Dizzying mazes, old cobblestones, rich red wine, sugary pastries, well-timed siestas, countless snacks of gelato, green shutters, slow gondolas, elegant bridges, lovers at every corner, - it is all wrapped up neatly and stored away in my memory. Italy kept yet another piece of me. 

week's end

We have the sweetest German landlady, Frau Wild, who has been wanting to take us out for "the best speissbraten in Idar-Oberstein." That's a pretty bold statement, so we gladly accepted her offer and went to dinner Friday night. She took us to this small restaurant, Restaurant Kirschweiler Brüke, located on the outskirts of Idar. It was truly fabulous. We had the typical & amazing German salad with the dressing that I will learn how to make before we leave, if it's the last thing I do, fresh bread with lard, ("Please pass the lard" - hilarious) and spoonfuls of some type of sour cream, lox, & garlic-y goodness that you ate in one gulp. We got to watch our speissbraten & potatoes slowly cook over the open fire while we had great, albeit frustrating at times due to the language barrier, conversation with Frau Wild. It was such a fun, special evening that made me remorseful we hadn't spent more time with such an interesting woman. (She was alive during WWII, her house- currently our house- was taken over by French soldiers during the war, she had uncles in the German Army, her husband was a jeweler specializing in opal...) The speissbraten was incredible, and I may or may not have eaten the leftovers straight from the fridge. Cold. With my bare hands. At 10 AM. Don't worry about it.

After bidding adieu to Frau Wild, Zack, Zane, & I walked down to the Jazz Tage fest that was going on this weekend. Much to my delight it was not jazz they were playing, but 50's style American rock n' roll. The band played tons of Elvis, while we drank wine & twisted our little hearts out with friends.

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A while back when I first found out we were moving so much earlier than expected, I began to get panicky at the thought of all the places we hadn't traveled to yet. Each weekend I was determined to go somewhere, even if just for the day, and to not "waste" one hour of our free time. This weekend Zack & I planned to go to Paris, but as the weekend drew closer, the more I dreaded it. (First World Problems, right?) I have already been there twice and it doesn't even make my top 10 favorite European cities list. Plus, Zack strongly dislikes the French people (he has only had bad experiences with them thus far) so I was able to persuade him that we didn't really need to see Paris before we left. When I awoke early Saturday morning, I was hit with that familiar twinge of panic, OMGWHATAREWEGOINGTODOTODAY WE ONLY HAVE 3 WEEKENDS LEFT!? But it was fleeting, and I sat down with a cup of coffee and just watched the morning shower water our flowers. I feel like I have seen so incredibly much in the two years living in Europe, that I have no real regrets about not seeing enough. I think we used our time here in Germany quite wisely, and I'm so thankful for all of the places we were able to visit.

Later that day, we went to Bad Sobernheim for the Barfußpfad, or 'Barefoot Path.' Exactly like it sounds - a 3km outdoor path in which you go barefoot. It was interesting and made for a nice way to spend an afternoon, but I think it could have been much better. My favorite part was the mud pit you had to wade through, and the knee-high river crossing.

After traipsing through all sorts of probably unsanitary conditions, we spruced up a bit and headed over to Bingen to catch the boat for a Rhine River cruise. The Rhine is the 12th longest river in Europe, flowing from Switzerland to the coast in the Netherlands. Lucky for us, it's only about an hour away from our home and the stretch of the river in that area is known as the "Romantic Rhine" because 40+ castles are situated along its banks. The river cruise was great, although I was expecting a little fancier of a boat, maybe with music + dance or something. (First World Problems..) We almost really screwed up because we took one of the last cruises out, and failed to get off at our stop in Bingen because we weren't sure if the boat would turn around again. Well, it didn't, and we got dropped off in Rüdesheim. Luckily, it wasn't that catastrophic of an error because all we had to do was walk down the river for maybe 1km and then take a ferry across to our original dock.

This is a thing.

Saturday evening, we had planned to either walk back down to the second night of the Jazz fest in our hometown, or go to the Kusel Castle for a concert but neither of those panned out. Probably because as soon as we got home from Bingen, our doorbell rang with a German man ranting & raving around our car's oil leak. In his defense, our car was leaking quite badly by that point so we put a bucket under the leak and are crossing our fingers it's not too costly of a repair. (Especially considering we leave in 16 days!) While he was mean-mugging Zack under the car, I asked him- "Did you write this?"

We discovered this oh-so-helpful note on the street a few days ago.

He replied, "JA I WRITE IT. No time for this, I have not the time for this! It makes me very sour! You need fix this now!" Um, okay Herr Freak. I wish my German was better so I could tell him to chill and that there's really no need to get so salty (or sour...) over a few leaks on an already imperfect public street. 

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Sunday morning I awoke annoying early, but made use of my time by figuring out my life plan and making pancakes & syrup from scratch. Two very different, yet both very necessary activities. I'm excited because I think I am finally figuring out what I should be doing career-wise, and because IHOP ain't got shiz on my blueberry & Nutella pancakes. 

We also did something very sad Sunday afternoon- we began to actually get ready for the move. Even though it's less than three weeks away, I guess I have been sort of living in denial that this is seriously about to take place. Today we took the pictures off of the walls, replaced the light fixtures with the originals, sorted items into piles for the movers and it became real. I think this is such a big deal for me because this is mine & Zack's first home together. It's where we spent the first year of our marriage, where we learned and grew and loved to the point I thought these walls would burst. This house has seen such beautiful times, and some very ugly and sad times, too. It will forever be special to us, and it hurts to know we're leaving it for good. It just kind of hurts.