Emotional Wreck 101

If anyone would like lessons in being an emotional wreck, please see me. I am quite the expert at the moment and would be willing to pass on the wisdom if you, kind readers, are interested.

It's like there are two fighting Amys right now. Fighting Amy One says "it's MY wedding day. It has to be perfect the way I imagine it because you know I only get one, and hello, did I mention it's MY wedding day?"

On the other hand, Fighting Amy Two says "whatever. I dont care. I just want to get married and get it over with. Do whatever you want."

Amy One sounds awfully selfish. Concerned parties want to do their bit on the cheap (we know I am a fan of doing things on the cheap provided it's still way classy, so nothing wrong there), but that means doing things far from the way *I* believe they should be done or have imagined they would be done. And that makes me mad. "Just do your part!" I scream inside.

Amy Two is way too lackadaisical to actually be an Amy that will ever exist, so we know that can't be right.

Somewhere in between these two there is a happy place. I am not sure where that is, but I am positive it does exist.

Meanwhile I am a wedding stress puddle. And Luke is asleep on the couch either from exhaustion from his day or exhaustion from dealing with me -- either or a combination are entirely possible. And once again you, oh fair blogosphere, are my faithful listener when things just make more sense by typing them out.

Done Mov-ed

Maybe that's an overstatement. We've moved all of my stuff ... and most of Luke's stuff, but minus what I shall from here out refer to as "sundry crap."

He has a lot of it.

And we are, of course(!), still unpacking.

This weekend came with a few surprises -- the cable salesman managed to suck us into getting cable... which is the last thing I wanted next to any sort of video game system (I HATE video games). This wouldn't be the worst development ever if I knew we'd do normal things like, you know, watch Law and Order or re-runs of Friends, but you KNOW it's going to be on ESPN basically 24/7.

Oh, did I mention we dont have a TV?

alksjkdflajsdf.

Another surprise: worst migraine in a long time Saturday night/early Sunday morning. I woke up with it this time and it hurt so bad that I was actually laying in my bed crying. Sad moment for Amy.

Another surprise: the faucet on the bathtub/shower is broken, leaving us to turn the dern thing on with an impressively large pair of pliers Luke produced from afore mentioned sundry crap. They better fix that asap ...

Spending my day at pre-marital counseling and World Vision. Woop-de-do.

Moooo-ving Day

No cows here, but we are moooo-ving. (Man, Im a dork)

Five or so hours at the coffee shop this morning, plus moving and now I smell like a fun mixture of coffee and sweat. Lovely.

It is so nice outside today, very sad I cant be out doing something other than, you know, walking about with boxes.

(And this qualifies as the most boring post ever)

Oh! I do have something almost interesting to say... possibly going to a girls night with a bunch of women from Luke's battalion ... my first Army wives thing.

We'll see how it goes.

The rant that wasn't

Had I sat down here to write this last night as the blog post was fuming in my brain, this post would've become a rant like none other -- a succinctly written run down of all the reasons sacrifice and love go hand in hand in both a Biblical framework and a practical one.

But since I slept on it I don't feel nearly as ranty as before.

I'm torn about how I feel about this, really. I was kind of looking forward to getting a good rant out. On the other hand, it's better than I don't spew forth a pontification aimed at someone who may or may not eventually read it.

As a side note: did you know this blog is the last remnant of the journalist life ... a sacrifice, which, by the way, was totally necessary and totally worth it.

And then she screamed "I've been defrauded!"

Don't you just hate that feeling of someone taking something from you that doesn't belong to them and you are powerless to stop it?

I felt this way those stupid people broke into my car in D.C. and stole my case of Diet Coke (the nerve). And when they broke in again and stole my rad radio/tape deck. And that time when someone ate the blueberry muffin that I had clearly labeled as "Amy's muffin. Do Not Eat." Seriously. What is the problem?

I was reminded of these feelings this morning when I looked at my bank account and noticed a $50 charge from my former gym in D.C., Will Power.

Do I live there anymore? Nope. Do I fly across the country daily to use a gym? Nope. Then WHY are you charging me for a membership?!

I left a message. And an email. They better fix that. Hmph.

We were on a break!

I've decided to take a wedding break.

If we were already married this would be a bad thing. But since the wedding is still 80 or so (ok, exactly 80) days away, a wedding break isn't a negative at all.

By order of me: I will not do anything wedding related (unless something pressing comes up, like me basically forgetting to send Luke's Aunt and Uncle an invitation ... that's right, they got missed when I printed the labels) until May 1.

And that is all there is to it.
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Had one of my first anti-Army career thoughts this morning. "Why can't Luke have a normal job?"

And then I thought "but I dont really want him to have a normal job ... the Army is the right thing."

I sense this will be a life long wrestle.
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Spent all day yesterday up at World Vision doing mind numbing data entry. I'm so glad that's over. In comparison to serving lattes, you'd think data entry would be a nice change. Not so much.
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Wanted: one rich dead, long lost grandfather to leave me tons of money so that I can go on cool trips all the time.

Blinded by the Light

I returned home from work yesterday afternoon to find Luke cowering on his bed under several pillows. He always seemed to think my suggestion that he hang curtains in his room (if for nothing else than to block out that stupid security light that shines in his window all. night. long.) was silly, but now it seemed to have gained some validity.

His apartment was a virtual shinning castle in the afternoon sun and under those two, sad, pillows was the only place he could find solace from the burning sensation in his eyes. The eye surgery, PRK corrective laser surgery, to be exact, had caused him to be uber sensitive to the light. No curtains = no escape.

I hung a sheet in the window.

Life immediately seemed better (and much, much darker).
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I am no marketing expert. I am spending serious time, however, pouring over marketing letter templates for my world vision project. Part of the problem, really, is that I've never actually experienced the Experience, the event Im attempting to market.

That is something that will hopefully soon be fixed, though. The traveling exhibit is coming here in a few weeks and I hope to drag my entire small group into participating. Yes, I am just that kind of witty and scheming. It'll be around the corner from my house in Tacoma (as opposed to Luke's house in Lakewood where I spent the bulk of my time), so the location couldn't be better. The only sad point -- Luke is scheduled to be in stupid Umatilla that weekend -- a mystical magical place in Oregon that, for reasons I dont really understand, needs him to guard it. They say something about "targeted nuclear facility" but I think thats a bunch of silliness.

Not really ...
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And that brings us to a new subject ... his need to go traipsing about doing his "duty."

I'm not the bitter almost-Army wife, really. I came into this whole thing willingly and knowing exactly what I'm doing -- ie jumping head long into constant loneliness caused by his absence and need, nay, requirement to be traipsing about guarding stuff or training or whatever.

That does not mean I have to like it. That does not mean I do not cry every. single. time. he leaves. That just means that the pain is self inflicted and that I have no right to be a hater when it comes to the Army. Yes, its unfair. Yes, it sucks. Yes, its scary. Yes, I will do whatever I have to do to get by.

But I reserve the right to complain on my blog. So there.

Perhaps I'll post a long, more thorough, Army wife manifesto at a later date.