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A trip though Europe

Sipping on  a glass of wine tonight (OK, a bottle) got me thinking.

Thinking about Europe.

I loved my time in that place.

I complained about waking up early, walking in the ice and snow, and my internship.

But in the end, it was perfect.

I met some awesome people, and saw some amazing places.

And I didn’t blog about any of it.

A travesty — I know.

But I can make it up.

In the spirit of reminiscing, I’ve decided to post some pictures from every city I visited.

It’s not going to be a short blog post, but I’ll try to keep it as brief as I can.

This post will cover the first two places I visited: Germany and France.

First: Cologne (Köln), Germany

We put all the beds in our hostel room together to make one big one, ‘cuz we’re fun like that.

Me eating a donut!

The Cologne Cathedral: Germany’s most visited landmark, according to Wikipedia. It also has the second tallest spire and the largest façade of any church in the world.

Along with the drinking age, I guess the eternal age of style emulation  is a little younger in Europe, too.

We climbed to the top of the cathedral!

And saw the bellz.

The outside.

A nighttime view.

Cute German architecture.

And I’ll leave it at that.

Next stop: PARIS!!

Starbucks in Paris = Heaven.

Arc de Triomphe.

Again.

The Eiffel Tower at night.

Notre Dame.

The Notre Dame stained glass was absolutely stunning.

Musée du Louvre!

The Mona Lisa :)

There’s so much more than what I posted, but the essence of a blog post is to keep it short.

I guess you’ll just have to go visit the places yourself!!

;)

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Everybody has that moment

When someone, a stranger or (possibly worse) close family member, sees them in an extremely awkward state of undress.

I had mine today.

It looked kind of like this, but without the flirty smile...

 Girls learn young that on windy days (most day are windy here, I might add), it’s important to be mindful of your dress or skirt. But usually there is warning and time to react.

I had neither.

Walking at a brisk pace through a plaza of people, headed to get a roll of quarters from the bank so I could feed my parking meter, a gust of wind whooshed up my dress and flipped it up so fast I couldn’t save myself.

I immediately pushed down at the front but it was all bunched up like a pile of bed sheets.

Desperately wanting the humiliation to end and not knowing how to make that happen, I got the front under as much control as I could and plopped my bum down on a bench right behind me.

I know people saw. I know a lot of people saw. But at least it wasn’t quite peak lunch time on “Restaurant Row” just yet.

One guy walked passed me as if nothing happened.

“Dude, I know you saw my bum!” I wanted to yell.

But I too was guilty of trying to play it off like nothing happened.

I stayed sitting for a while, smoothing out my dress on my lap. I ignored my instinct to text someone or post on Facebook because it would mean acknowledging to the public what just happened. If they didn’t see me immediately make contact with the electronic world, then maybe they would forget faster. If my next move was to lay low, maybe their memory would would too.

And what was my husband’s reaction to this mortifying experience?

“Well, at least you probably made someone else’s day.”

Really????

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Funny Story

I carried on a phone conversation at 4:30 a.m. Thursday morning.
In my sleepy stupor, I thought “877″ was “808,” which is Hawaii’s area code.
Was Casey OK? Did my work need me at some unholy (and, frankly, extremely unacceptable) hour?
No.
Citibank wanted to make sure I paid my loan.
I answered the phone politely, not knowing what I was getting myself into.
“Yes, I did it last night, but I live in Hawaii so with the time change it wound up being a few minutes late,” I said.
“Oh you’re in Hawaii, it must be really early there. What’s it, like five hours difference?” said the sweet woman.
No, it’s four now.
Surprisingly, I didn’t loath her for waking me up. How could I?
I was too stunned to think about anything other than my responses to her questions. Even that proved difficult.
“Yes, it’s OK,” I said, clearly in denial.
“If you put it through last night, it should post in a couple days,” she explained, informing me of what I already knew.
“OK,” I mustered.
“So you moved, do you want to change your address?” she went on.
Oh dear.
“Sure… 99 (dash),” I started. “Wait. I think I kept it at my old address for a reason. Just leave it at that.”
I didn’t know what my reasoning was, but I knew there was a method to my madness. She must have thought that comment was nuts, but I vaguely remembered talking to a nice Indian man a few weeks earlier who told me I didn’t have to change my maiden name, and I also decided to keep my Carol Stream address on file.
“OK, do you want to change your phone number so you don’t get calls this early again?”
Here’s when my brain started kicking in — do they look up area codes before they call people? Sheesh, how proactive.
“No, this is my only number,” I said.
“OK, what’s your address on file?”
I responded.
“Zip code?”
Silly me, lobbing off chunks of vital information related to my account security.
“And your email address?”
I responded.
“And now I need you to verify your phone number.”
Lady, you called me!
I responded.
“And is that the only number you have? Do you want me to add a work or home phone?”
NO, lady, I TOLD YOU THESE BE MY ONLY DIGITZ.
“No,” I said calmly.
I don’t remember how the conversation concluded (probably with her apologizing again for waking me up), but I remember getting up to pee, looking at the clock and calculating that even if I had been in the Dirty 630, she would have called at 8:30 a.m. (And for some reason, I felt like this would irk me far more than her 4:30 a.m. ring), and considering posting this terrible experience on Facebook.
But I was afraid that would wake me up more than I already was, so I put on my eye mask (reserved for special sleeping occasions such as these) and continued to take up 3/4 of the bed in Casey’s absence.
The only thing that truly bothered me about the call was my fear that I would not wake up on time because my sleep got interrupted.
I was right.
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Christmaaaaas!!

This post is about a Christmas Miracle of sorts…

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See that garland?

(On the tree behind my wonderful husband who is wearing the table runner I bought as a stoll…..)

I almost had to fight for that garland.

Here’s why:

So, last Saturday Casey was working and I put in a Saturday shift at work as well. I tried to get him to go tree shopping with me before, but it ended with us fighting (because he hates, no, loathes, Christmas).

Since he wasn’t getting off until Midnight, I decided to make a stop at Lowe’s and Home Depot (they’re right next to each other) and surprise him with a tree!

I’m glad I did because Lowe’s was sold out of fake trees with no intention of getting more and Home Depot was on it’s way down a similar path (which was odd considering Lowe’s trees were more expensive and not on sale, while Home Depot’s were 20 percent off. But that’s besides the point).

So after bouncing back and forth between the two stores (I’m sick, I know), I made the purchase! Yay!

Then I really got into the Christmas spirit and went over to the Mall at Pearl Harbor and Target looking for garland.

At the NEX I got the most adorable Santa hat that will show up in a later post. Let’s just say there’s cheetah print involved. Hoo. Rah.

And at Target I found what I was really in search of: Garland.

I take my Christmas decorating preferences very distinctly from both of my parents.

My OCD about where everything goes comes from my mom (and partially from my dad because he let me be OCD at his house too), and I love garland because my dad always had it. My mom always had white lights; dad had colored. You get the idea.

So, back to the garland.

I managed to find exactly what I was looking for (which, in my life, NEVER EVER EVER happens). I envisioned something red and green because I picked out a tree with white lights and I wanted to add in some color, and, well, those are Christmas colors!

I was thrilled.

But I didn’t buy enough.

So the next day I went back. Too late in the day, though.

BECAUSE THEY WERE SOLD OUT.

But not only were they sold out of everything the had, the never had very much on the shelves to begin with. IDIOTS! (Remember Lowe’s? Yeah. I’m sensing a trend).

So I called my mom.

Boy, was I hot.

I was asking her to look at the Target back home for the same garland and mail it to me, then the convo trailed off onto other topics while I still lingered in the aisle.

I don’t know what I was hoping for, I guess maybe for the garland to magically appear if I stalked the aisle long enough.

Then I saw it. Exactly what I had been hoping for.

A woman with the garland.

My garland.

Oh, boy.

I whispered into my phone at my mom, “Mom, there’s a woman in the aisle with my garland and I want it.”

“I feel like one of those black Friday shoppers. I want to pay her for it. But I don’t have cash.”

No joke, my words.

If I had a ten, that shit woulda been mine. Ain’t no shame in my game.

So, I watched her. I wanted to figure out what she was doing. Predict her next move. Was she about to put it back? Not quite. She scanned the aisle and grabbed three packages of white garland. “Shoot, I know where this is going,” I thought. Since I had been doing the same thing myself a bit earlier, I knew she was trying to mix two kinds of garland because she only had one strand of the green and red kind, My kind.

I wanted a beebee gun so bad. Only this was not an Xbox or a super cheap TV like on Black Friday. It was a $6 thing of garland. Hardly worth killing over, but darnit, I sure thought so at the time.

So, I put on my journalist fear-no-one big girl pants and asked.

“Um, excuse me, how attached are you to that garland?”

I had intended on buying two or three packages, just to be safe, but her one, My one, would work just fine. I would make it work. It would be better than nothing. Gosh, I wished I had cash.

“Um, pretty attached,” she said.

Damn.

So I turned my cart around politely, trying not to let her know that if I had a beebee gun she’d be toast.

But for some reason I still did not leave the aisle. I really need to understand that no means no. Blame my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles. I’ve been way too spoiled over the years.

But then it happened.

She

came

back.

I saw her, carrying just the one package of my beloved garland, pivot on her right foot to turn down the aisle. Then she saw me and redirected her path, extending the package, like an olive branch of peace. (She must have sensed my beebee gun plans).

“I decided I’m actually not that attached to it,” she said. “You can have it.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you!!!” I said. “You just made my night… You just made my Christmas.”

OK, so I wish I hadn’t said that last line because it probably made me sound like a total nut job freak-o who needs a life. My bad.

But seriously, I really think it did make my Christmas.

Damn garland.

So here’s how it turned out:

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I overestimated on the size a bit. Oopsies.

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SO PRETTY!!

I’m proud of myself because I only bought a few ornaments that were cheap (we already had some from our shower because my mom had everyone bring an ornament). Let’s just say I cannot wait for Christmas clearance shopping this year to stock up on more for next year!!!

And even though I found this Christmas warehouse place in a flower/craft shop that’s an absolute wonderland, I still wish we had a Michael’s and a Joanne’s :(

 

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Habitual maniacs

Casey and I are creatures of habit.

And that’s all about to change.

Every Monday night we watch Hawaii Five-0

Before that I beg Casey to watch snippets of Dancing with the Stars

Every Tuesday night we watch Castle, which we DVR on Monday because we have some insatiable need to watch Five-0 when it premiers. (Little personal victory of mine because I introduced Casey to Castle). I also beg him to watch snippets of DWTS, because Lord knows ABC needs to have that show on two separate days.

We watch a lot of Family Guy, Two and a Half Men, and a crap ton of 19 Kids and Counting because I DVR’d like every episode, and Casey hates himself enough to watch it with me.

We watch a lot of Saturday Night Live, too,

And the 10 o’clock news. Like erryday.

And on the past couple Fridays, we’ve downed a bunch o’ wine and watched Gold Rush on Discovery (which stupidly premieres at like 4 p.m. our time; glad we pay for the DVR). It’s a horribly slow-moving show, and I can’t watch it without the wine. Oh, the wine. I just want the dumb butts to find their gold. And let me tell you, THEY ARE SERIOUS.DUMB.BUTTS. All of them. End of story.

Saturdays we do some shopping, maybe some cleaning or other work around the house.

Sundays we go to church, maybe hit up the beach or do more shopping (or some or all of those). We also tend to make delicious frappes with our extremely unnecessary but amazing shower gift, the frappe maker (complete with recipe book). Hellooooooo fatties.

Sometime during the weekend we (I) make pancakes, too. Fancy ones. Not that boring crap.

We also spend a great deal of time on the weekend laughing and cuddling in bed (Do NOT take the the wrong way, you sicko).

(Sadly, if you haven’t noticed, our habits center around the television and food. But we won’t address that issue at this time).

All of this is going to come to a screeching halt when Casey starts shift work on Monday. Sad day.

We’re not going to have dinner together every night.

Hell, we might not even see each other every night, depending on his schedule.

It’s going to be an interesting transition, and neither of us really know what to expect.

Truth is, I love my husband, but I think it’s going to be nice to get some “me time” in every now and then.

I lived in a single bedroom apartment for two semesters in college. I like sleeping alone, I like watching my own TV shows, I like cooking dinner for one person. I like being alone.

I know Casey likes being alone, too.

It’s going to be sad not seeing each other on a regular basis and not getting to partake in the little habits we’ve developed over the past five weeks, but I hope it will be OK.

It has to be OK, otherwise, we’re screwed.

I’m sure it will be OK.

;)

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Quotes

I don’t know who said it or when, but our own worst enemy is always ourselves.

In light of recent events in my life and given my unfortunate tendency to feel insanely insecure, I decided to gather some quotes about insecurity and share them with you. (They can be found at the end of this super long blog I did not intend to write . . . )

The fact is, I know I’m not alone. Almost everyone, women especially, faces insecurity. And getting over it often seems not only crazy improbable, but clearly, utterly, undeniably impossible. I take that back, there is no getting over it. There’s just learning how to live with it. And knowing that its lies. All lies.

One of the greatest things the devil can do to us is make us feel unworthy. My problem is I don’t feel unworthy in God’s eyes; I feel unworthy in the eyes of my fellow men and women — the exact audience I should not be feeling accountable to, yet I do. I feel so accountable to this world, it’s disgusting. We shouldn’t live to please our bosses, friends, family, etc. We should live to please God.

At the end of the day, if I wind up royally sucking at my job and get kicked out of the journalism world for all eternity, God will have my back. He has a plan for me, I know it. I just wish I could press an easy button — a fast-forward button would be even better! — to figure out where my life ends up. But everybody wishes that, don’t they? Everyone wants affirmation that they’re making the right choices, going in the right directions, making friends with the right people, do they not? Here, again, I’m not alone. But being in the company of probably the entirety of humanity doesn’t make me feel any better. WHY?

I think it’s amazing (not in a good way) that there are emotional problems we all face that there are no answers to. There’s remedies, like praying and being close to God, but no answers. I’m a person who needs answers. Always. And at this part of my life, I have none. None at all. I’m let myself ramble on in this blog post because I know there’s a lot of people out there who will probably read it that are feeling the same way. Knowing I’m not alone doesn’t make me feel better, but it might help you.

Finally, here are those quotes I promised. Doesn’t it suck that it’s so much easier to say something, or think and believe it, than it is to do it and put it into practice? Yeah, it sucks.

“Nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent.”  -Eleanor Roosevelt

“It took me a long time not to judge myself through someone else’s eyes.” -Sally Field

“It’s not who you are that holds you back, it’s who you think you’re not.”  -Unknown

“Whether you think you can or think you can’t – you are right.” -Henry Ford

“I quit being afraid when my first venture failed and the sky didn’t fall down.”  -Allen H. Neuharth (Founder of USA Today)

“If you hear a voice within you say “you cannot paint,” then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced.” -Vincent Van Gogh

“Let me never fall into the vulgar mistake of dreaming that I am persecuted whenever I am contradicted.” -Ralph Waldo Emerson

“If we all did the things we are capable of doing, we would literally astound ourselves.”  -Thomas Edison

“Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt.”  -William Shakespeare, Measure for Measure, 1604

“When there is no enemy within, the enemies outside cannot hurt you.”  -African Proverb

And I saved the best for last. . .

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself in any direction you choose.
You’re on your own.
And you know what you know.
You are the guy who’ll decide where to go.
-Dr. Seuss

Have a beautiful day, peeps.

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“With or Without You”

When the movers were putting our couch together, they asked me why we bought a brand new one on the mainland instead of buying it here. Well, besides the fact that it was probably less expensive and is of better quality than what they sell here at the Base or Navy exchanges, we were able to put it on my JCPenney card back in May, with no financing for a year. I have a couch that I love, from a store that I love (despite having worked there for five years), and was able to enjoy it the day after I arrived on the island. All in all, I think I made a pretty smart move.

NOW. To the real subject of this post.

When I said I bought it at JCPenney and put it on my card, they said “Oh yeah, that’s right, JCPenney does sell furniture,” then mumbled something about the JCPenney on the island being closed.

WHAT?!

I said, “The JCPenney on the island just closed?”

Their response: “Yeah, but there’s a Macy’s over there too.”

I hid from them the absolute torture going on inside my heart and mind.

MACY’S IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME. 

I need my JCP fix. I’ve thought about this travesty at least once a day for more than a week. I have a problem. Many problems, actually. Where am I going to hit up awesome clearance? Where am I going to buy my pillows? Where am I going to buy picture frames and Christmas decorations and other pointless home decor? Where? Where? WHERE?

I DIE.

Casey does not share in my displeasure. He is indifferent/happy about this information. So, I leave you with this song from our dear friends, U2.

And now that this complaining is public and out of my system, I can hopefully move on to worrying about things that actually matter.

Oh, First World problems.

PS: I just found out there is no Michael’s or JoAnn’s either.

Gasp.

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In honor of Coming Out Day

I got fruity!

Casey and I were very tired and hungry when we went to the Commissary,

so we came home with things without thinking about them.

Watermelon and Pineapple were two

(Casey’s bone-in frozen chicken was another….).

I had no idea how to cut either fruit, or even what knife to use.

So, I called my aunt and then got down and dirty dicing.

In the end, I think I did a pretty good job.

AND THEY ARE DELICIOUS!

Yay for homegrown fruits that were not shipped in from the mainland :) .

I tackled this baby first.

It was only 5 lbs., so totally doable for a newb like myself.

The finished product!

SO juicy.

Nakey pineapple!

This one was a little more difficult,

but I’m glad my aunt told me to cut the top off last and use it as a handle.

When I cut the eyes off, I had it sitting in the bowl, so I could catch all the yummy juices

instead of losing them to the cutting board!

(I came up with that one on my own :) ).

My creativity at its finest.

Thanks, Aunt Elizabeth, for the bowls! They came in handy.

(We also love the Wolfgang Puck grill thing you got us — it made a deeelicious steak!).

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Impulse Buy

I went to Target looking for curtain ties and came home with this beauty instead:

They are delicious, let me tell you.

I love fall and I was really concerned that Hawaiians wouldn’t celebrate it.

Maybe it’s all of the mainland/military influence, but they definitely do!

What a relief.

Target is also selling gloves.

YES, gloves. Like the winter kind.

I don’t get it. It’s not cold.