Thank you Oregon :)

I married a man who-

Makes me believe in fairytales.
Who treats me like a princess.
Who loves me unconditionally.
Makes good on all of his promises.
Who loves to show me off to his friends.
Who makes me laugh until I can't feel my face.
Who is incredibly handsome.
Who does things a lot of people aren't man enough to do.
Who makes me feel safe, even if it's from myself.
Who tells me I'm the most beautiful when I first wake up.
Who takes me on adventures.
Has something interesting to talk about, always.
And I think I could go on forever... but hey, my blog right?

The whole of Josh's deployment I saved every last penny so that I could take him to the Oregon Coast. It was wonderful. Fantastic. Relaxing. Everything a getaway should be.

It went a little like this.

The drive was breathtaking, as every coastal drive ought to be. Of course, the autumn weather brought a downpour, which greatly hampered Josh's forza track, but a little extra time in the car to reconnect was better than Christmas morning. I laughed the whole way to Lincoln City.

In typical Murphy fashion our service light came on. It took us three days to figure out it was only the headlight out. Thank goodness. After three months of separation, the only thing that sounded good was a disgustingly greasy pizza. Who woulda thought that the pizza place right next to our hotel served gluten free pizza? Josh insisted we get that, and he ate it, even though I told him he probably wouldn't like it. It turned out to be one of the most delicious things I had ever tasted. Thank God for pizza. 

Josh also made sure we had an appropriate soundtrack to listen to while we polished off the pie. Kashmir, Foxy Lady, and another song I can't remember, but still a classic. I cracked up at Jimi Hendrix.  It's amusing to see your husband bust out in a near abandoned pizza parlor. The navy may take his time, but they haven't taken his sense of humor.

The following day we shopped the Lincoln City outlets. As there wasn't much to do in Lincoln City that sounded too interesting (head shops are not interesting) we drove to Newport. Josh maybe, might have peed himself a little when we drove past the Rogue brewery. I might have peed a little when I saw the tide pools. I guess it's a childhood thing. 

I wish I would have had a better camera with me, but only true presence can capture the beauty of any landscape.

The rain didn't permit us to do much of anything, which was completely acceptable by my standards. We feasted at a hole in the wall Mexican restaurant, stopped by the chocolate shop next door for dessert, and went back to our room to watch "Last of the Mohicans." So. Damn. Sad. Why must all good movies be so depressing?!

Friday morning was kind of a blur. The only thing I can remember doing with any certainty was shaving my legs while watching a storm roll in. TMI, I know. Added for emphasis. It wasn't until around nine thirty at night, right as I was finished rolling myself up in the comforter that the party got started.

Let me clarify something. Josh is one of those people that can take something already entertaining and level it up 20 fun points. He's far better at planning adventures than I am because, well, I require everything planned down to the very last minute detail. Sometimes including how many toilet paper squares that can be used to maximize efficiency. Not kidding.

Anyway, you probably don't care much about that.

Josh: "Babe? Babe? Are you tired? How can you be tired? Let's go do something! I've gotten fourteen hours of sleep and I am in no way ready to go to bed yet."

Me: "Ugh. I'm sooo tired!"

Josh: "Come on, let's go do something."

 Me, thinking that maybe "something" included, gee, i don't know, grabbing an ice cream cone or seeing a movie, reluctantly agreed. I figured if I caved I'd be able to sleep that much sooner. Boy was I ever so wrong.

Josh practically vaulted into the car, while I slumped down into my seat- the picture of bedtime except for the corduroy pants I threw on. Then, he got this look on his face. I know that look. It's the look of gears going into overdrive. "Be right back," he said.

Ten minutes later he was back in the car with a twisted grin on his face. 

"Ok, it's going to be a while before we get to where we are going."

Alright, maybe that meant we were driving to Portland. Maybe we were going to a Hookah bar, or a concert. I had no idea. Josh laughed at my attempts to guess. Then it hit me. 

"We are going to California aren't we?"

*Stifled grin.*

"Noooooooooo."

"Right."

Before we were ever engaged, before we were ever even serious, Josh promised me he'd take me to see the Redwoods someday. There, at ten at night, he was making good on that promise. Crazy. Crazy romantic. Crazy husband.

Double weilding two energy drinks, we began our long seven hour drive to Crescent City California. It was a party for a good three hours. Laughing, loud music, musings, typical best friend sleepover stuff.  About two in the morning, as my eyes were beginning to cross, Josh mentioned something about maybe making a bad decision. I laughed. I couldn't help it, everything is terribly funny so late at night.

Three rolled around, and by now, I was having dreams of being defibrillated,jolting me out of sleep. Josh's energy drinks were wearing off and I could tell he was having a hard time staying awake. I suggested sleeping at the nearest rest stop. We honestly didn't have much of a choice.

At three in the morning, in 30 degree weather with no cloud cover, a 2001 chevy cavalier does not retain heat. At three in the morning, two jackets, a few of Josh's old shirts, boxers, and random littering of socks will not keep you warm. Parking under a rape light neither provides a sense of security or sleep. At three in the morning, teetering on the brink of exhaustion, cotton mouth will inevitably steal your sleep. At three in the morning, there was no sleep to be had. 

Forunately for me, 20 minutes is enough to recharge my batteries. Poor Josh was looking beyond pale and miserable. I offered to drive the rest of the way, assuring him I would be fine. It was only a forty five minute drive to Crescent City and the beast inside my stomach was preventing me from further sleep anyway. 

Driving in a haze is a surreal experience, but my fear of getting pulled over had me constantly slapping my face, biting my tongue, and shaking my head to maintain coherence. At four we crossed the border, with Oregon begging us to "Come back" (no please, just come back in bold letters written on the road). For some reason, perhaps displaced logic, I felt a little sorry for Oregon. 

When we finally reached Crescent City, I headed for the nearest McDonald's (though it took us two trips through the city to find it), parked, and promptly passed out- waking only to momentarily reheat the car. I was never more grateful, or rested, after one hour of glorious car sleep. Once six in the morning approached, my stomach wouldn't let me rest, so, in a pinch, it was McDonald's for breakfast and Safeway for a bathroom break. This is the part of the morning where I am unintentionally cranky and everything makes me angry. Safeway not having my favorite protein bar threw me into an unreasonable, primal rage. I didn't say anything of course, just seethed. I needed more sleep.

The night was slowly, ever so slowly giving way to the dawn. I set forth for the nearest mountain and found a viewpoint overlooking the ocean and the city below. More sleep ensued until I woke Josh up with a violent shaking fit. I didn't mean to scare him so bad. Curse the stage between waking and dreaming. At this point, any more sleep would have proved fruitless, and the sun was beginning to peak over the mountain, so I set off further along the coast to catch it. 

I've seen a lot of sunrises in my life, but few can compare to a California sunrise over the ocean. Few mornings can be compared to stalking through the coastal Redwood forest blanketed by a  heavy fog. And let's get real, I was on Endor in the morning. Awesome.

Northern Endor. Awesome. Where's my landspeeder?

Freaking giant Redwood that we drove the car
through. Look at tiny Josh!

The Northern most part of California now resides in my "most beautiful areas" log. It was an otherworldly experience. Touching a Redwood tree was on my bucket list, and not only did I get to do that, but I got to experience the slightly acrid smell of the forest that Josh talks so fondly of. I'm looking forward to going back someday and hiking through it.

And now I must divide this never-ending day into part two. The drive home. One sixteen ounce peppermint mocha and I felt alive and strong enough to pull the ears off a Gundark. I'm convinced caffeine helped win WWII, construct the space shuttle, and is the answer to World Peace. Bring on the coffee. While Josh curled up into a ball and drifted between waking and sleeping, I was so awake I was practically shaking. No sleep+caffeine buzz= everything is beautiful and completely new. I instinctively turned to talk radio accepting Rush Limbaugh as my new driving companion. "OMG, I'm turning into my parents," I thought.

There is not much I can say for the drive home, other than it was fascinating. Once Josh joined the living, we laughed our way back to Lincoln City. I love that kid. Our last stop was the Sea Lion caves- America's largest ocean cave. IT WAS ENORMOUS. We had to go down nearly 200 ft on an elevator to get to it.

Observe. 38 or so hours without sleep. Same pants for the entire
vacation (I forgot a few essentials.) In desperate need of a shower, rolled up pants,
slippers, awful coffee breath (thank goodness smell-o-vision has yet
to come into being) and atrocious hat hair. 

Josh rightly remarked how similar this vantage point
looked like Ireland.

No seals. That's ok. Josh doesn't like seals.

See the lighthouse?

It was awesome. Josh really isn't into tourist traps, but the experience was worth the price. We didn't get back to the hotel until around three, and having eaten nothing that day, I inhaled an entire roasted chicken. Judge all you want. Josh passed out almost immediately. Me? Hardly, I was up until ten.

The next morning we stopped for breakfast and drove home. More laughing, more adventure. I forced Josh to stop at the Tillamook cheese factory so I could get my squeaky cheese. It's essential. We also learned that if you are running on one bar, the next gas station will be an hour away. Coincidentally, the gas light flicked on right as we rolled into Shelton. Thank goodness!  

That was our most recent adventure. I hope to take more soon. It's always fun to fall in love with the same person all over again everyday. :)

A day off to adventure!

Brace yourself, for this will be a long post. This is what happens when I skip a day.

Beginning with yesterday-
Yesterday I finally had a chance to have coffee with my second cousin, Myla. From one introvert, to another, it was exactly the type of therapy my soul needed. Even though we don't get a chance to meet up very often, talking with her is like having a conversation with myself- except considerably more reasonable and a lot more lively. Our topic over and Americano and half shot latte was "living with considerable guilt" and "accepting introversion." I know, I know, you're probably thinking what on earth I should feel guilty about. Well, honestly, surprisingly everything. In a society were extroversion is not only celebrated, but expected, it can be easy to feel guilty about one's own existence. Not only do I live among a minority that thinks and acts foreign, but I must face daily the pressures put upon me to perform beyond my limits. Navy get togethers? Noooooo thank you. I get stared at, I feel uncomfortable, and anything with more than four people at a time causes my stomach to churn.
I told Myla that I force myself to do things I know I can't follow through with, and then I feel like a failure afterwards. Whether it be 4H, karate, multiple volunteer opportunities, parties, or even employment (waitressing. Yes, I waitressed. It was exhausting.), I do all of these in an attempt to fit in. I think the most devastating moment to my introverted makeup was a sermon I sat through two years ago. The pastor went on an on about how there is no excuse to not get out there and go to the masses. No excuse. My heart sank. Knowing what I know about myself and how dysfunctional I am crushed my spirit. The very idea of going to the grocery store during the daytime sends me over the edge. And so with a broken spirit, I left that day with insurmountable guilt about how I would never be good enough. Unfortunately, this has often led me to throwing my hands up in the air and just giving up. I didn't know how to apply introversion to helping others.
Luckily though, Myla helped me realize that there are just as many important ways to serve God behind the scenes as the front scenes. Slowly, she's helping me realize that I should just accept the way I was made for how I am, and serve the best way I know how. She told me many stories of the "silent ministries" that she has served in. She planted a small seed of hope. I know I should have thought of this earlier, and I had, but the little voice in the back of my head always told me it was never enough and no good. Sometimes, the voice was so loud I could barely hear myself cry. The whole passage, "anything is possible through Christ" repeated itself over and over. Yet, I still couldn't stay in the midst of a lot of people. And I still can't. It's not how I was designed, and I simply have to accept that. And with Myla's encouragement and experience with the exact same battle, I slowly am.

The coffee date was ended with a short call from Josh telling me he was done for the day and I could come get him- seven hours early. Let me confess first, I HATE crying in public, but I broke down at the coffee table in front of everyone. I hadn't barely seen Josh all week, and now I got him for the whole day. I was beaming- kinda like this :D.
To celebrate, I took him out to his favorite wing stop- Famous Dave's. We ate too much, laughed a lot, and Josh conquered Wilbur's Revenge. It may be revenge going down, just wait until it comes out. Cracked.com refers to the syndrome known as "scorched asshole." Thank you cracked, thank you. Josh even wrote a song in homage, but I dare not write it here.

aha. AHAHAHAHAHA. Yea.

Boomer and I also made doggy cookies. Though, sadly, I've eaten more of them than Boomer has.

The following recipe is based upon one I found
in this book.

"Babe? Babe, what are you eating?"

"....nothing."

"Baaaabe?"

"NOTHING!"

"BABE!"

"Dog biscuits."

"Seriously."

*nod*

"Put those away if you want me to kiss you again in the next century."

*grumbles, and keeps eating*

But seriously, not only are they gluten free, they taste like macaroni. Mom, make these for Momo-

1/2 c of cream cheese, really softened

1/2 c of shredded cheese

Nice splash of milk

1.5-2 cups of oat flour

Mix and bake for 15-20 min at 350. Tatey.

Onto today!

Josh had the exceptionally good  bad idea to walk 27 miles to Kingston today but *thankfully* he stayed up waaaay to late with Smith and slept in far too late for us to walk anywhere. (I was dancing on the inside.) Nevertheless, I was up at 6:30 to scour an Estate Sale for art supplies like the craigslist ad promised. I loaded Boomer into the car, and away we went. The whole way there I had a nagging feeling in my gut. Something wasn't quite right, and I shouldn't be going. I kept on driving until we arrived. It was barely 8:07 and the whole house was practically picked over by vulturous people. It was as if time aroundme sped up, watching scavengers prey upon dead carrion. Something about the whole situation left me sick and disgusted. I left quickly. The ravenous faces of the people there looking for a cheap buy, the drawn faces of the deceased relative. I don't know what it was. But for respect of the passed on, it didn't seem right for people to be fighting over the few items once treasured by the deceased. When I die, I don't want people to be fighting over my belongings. I understand that I cannot take them with me in death, but the thought of having scavengers pick upon my memories just seems so wrong. 

I came home, relieved to be away from there, and Boomer just to be out of the car. I told Josh of the Farmer's Market up in Poulsbo, and to my utter surprise, he decided he wanted to go. I was flabbergasted, but whole heartedly excited. I couldn't wait to spend the day out of the house with my best friend!!! 

On our arrival, we were not disappointed. We sampled fudge, Josh enjoyed a double hand made brat, and we had the most delicious Viking Feast Coffee Berserker ice cream ever, all the while listening to a session. The vegetables were the most ripe and delicious we had ever seen, the people were so friendly, and the wares were top quality. Happy days.

I teased him about his "oops... I pooped." face.

"Me Gusta."

After we had our fill of Poulsbo, the thought of going home on such a wonderful day repulsed us both, so we just drove. We found ourselves in Kingston, of all places. Remember, Kingston? Ya, we were supposed to walk there. After the drive out there, I think I would have been in tears by mile ten. Moving on. After navigating through the most poorly planned parking lot manhas ever dreamt up, we ventured to the Kingston Farmer's Market. Comparable to the Pouslbo Market, sans the interesting sample of music (picture hillbillies singing about pasta... ya. Brynda moment.), and with an incredible view of the bay and  the tips of Seattle's highest sky scrapers, we had a jovial time. Josh, drooled over the many sailboats moored in the harbor, and I delighted myself in the beautiful stone earrings Josh picked out for me. Side note, I often don't wear jewelry. In fact, I often forget I even HAVE it. But natural jewelry, such as stone and wood, well, I will wear that all day. Not a huge bling girl.

Josh is my paparazzi. :P

"I'm angry because they locked the docks so hooligans like me can't admire their boats."

Josh's lady love, 'The Mystique.' She needs a little TLC, but was a very pretty boat.

Josh has a gift for picking out colors that match my skin tone. I love these earrings. The rocks have the most
intricate and beautiful patterns.

Once the market had exhausted itself of all it had to offer us, we walked down the 200 ft mainstreet of Kingston. There, we found, "The World's Best Roast" and, like elf, had to try the coffee and then congratulate the owner on his superior roasting skills. In reality, it was really tastey, and we had a very interesting chat with the owner about his past, the commodity markets, and his passions now. On her smoke break, the barista came out to talk to us too. We shared our frustrations with our current town (she kindly told us it was the worst place to live on the peninsula... of course. But, hey!, we didn't know that when we moved here!) and how she drives an hour to work everyday. We had a wonderful time.

Josh sitting in front of the roaster exhaust.

It is my duty to poison test Josh's coffee.

This cat had the most eccentric fur pattern.

And now we are home. I'm blogging, Josh is polishing off his hot pocket, filled to the brim with "imitation mozzarella," while playing his new game, and Boomer is nomming. I could not be more grateful for this rare opportunity to spend time with Josh. It was a wonderful day.