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I’m Not Coming Back (and You Can’t Make Me)

Just thought I’d stop in and let everyone know that I have decided to forego the Frederick apartment and Costa Rica trip and pretty much my life as I know it to live out the rest of my days with my in-laws in Cape Cod.

I haven’t run the idea by them yet, but I’m sure they’d be cool with it.  I mean, who wouldn’t want an unemployed 28-year-old shacking up with them for all of eternity?

They shouldn’t have a ‘Welcome’ sign if they don’t mean it.

I love visiting Chuckles’ folks.  Aside from being two of the nicest, most laidback people on the face of the Earth, they’ve managed, over 17-odd years, to transform their property into a heavenly piece of mellow, stress-free paradise.

Here’s how a typical morning goes when we visit:  I wake up around 9 a.m. to find freshly ground coffee waiting for me in the kitchen.  Amen.  Then, I shuffle (because that’s the only way I know how to transport myself in the morning) out to the porch where I’m greeted by the warm sun, a cool morning breeze and this…

 

…and these…

…and these.

And then I proceed to lounge around in my jammies in a drooling, zen-like trance for the better part of the morning until a plate of cheesy scrambled eggs, fluffy waffles topped with fresh fruit and homemade Kahlua whipped cream, and a Bloody Mary that’d make you slap your mama magically appears in front of me. 

And then I silently give thanks that, for some insane reason, Chuckles’ parents keep inviting me up to mercilessly sponge off their polite hospitality.  Obviously, these people haven’t learned enough about me yet.

Seriously, I’m not even kidding when I say that being here is the best high you can get without a dealer on speed dial.  Everything about this place is quiet and peaceful and homey and just so frickin’ picturesque, from the flowers Jude planted out front…

…to the vegetable garden Rick cultivated out back with his 10 green thumbs…

…to the stone patio they recently put in by themselves…

…everything about this place screams, “CHILL THE FRICK OUT, YOU NEUROTIC HEADCASE.”

And sometimes I need to be bossed around a bit, you know?

“Dude.  You’re, like, totally harshing my mellow with that camera.”

My Therapist Makes Me Drink

One of the best things about being military is moving new places and meeting new people.

One of the hardest things about being military is saying goodbye to people you’ve begun to consider not just friends, but family.

Countless people have entered and left my life over time, but never so much as in the past 7 years.

I’ve started looking at the different places I’ve lived as different lives – each unique in its local climate, cuisine, culture.  But it’s always the people – not just the locals, but those military people who weave in and out, each affecting me in different ways, who impact me the most.  All of the experiences they share, so many faces they wear, countless backgrounds that inevitably bleed into my own.  They change me.

We’ve been unusually stagnant for the past few years, staying in this one place while our friends from this place and lives past flit from state to state, country to country.

The most recent people to leave our lives are Mike and Sarah.  During their all-too-brief stay in our neighborhood, this young couple somehow managed to become the glue in our little group of neighbors.

Mike, aka. “Manchild,” always brought the party.

His wife Sarah always brought the wine.

As I sat with them in their kitchen one night shortly before they moved, I noticed the synchronization they’ve achieved in their relationship.

(You’re nothing at Mike and Sarah’s place if not relaxed.)

Sarah cooks, Mike watches.

Mike comments, Sarah gets annoyed.

Just kidding.  They’re pretty laid-back.

And I think that’s what makes them work so well.

Sarah gave me this as a going-away gift (even though she was the one going away).  It’s just the kind of gal she is:

Can’t argue with that.

Enjoy the friends in your life while you have them.

You’re missed already!

Two Peas in a Pod

The hubs is coming home!  The hubs is coming home!

Sweet Lindsay Lohan, Chuckles is coming home!

After two excruciatingly long, obnoxiously celibate (sorry, Mother-in-Law!) months apart, he’ll be flying in Monday.

Our relationship, like, well, let’s face it — pretty much everything about me — might appear slightly abnormal to the casual observer.  A military career and the number of traveling jobs that followed managed to keep us apart a good chunk of the six years we’ve been together.  Sometimes in different zip codes, sometimes on different continents.

Fortunately, Chuckles and I are both independent creatures, so separation isn’t as dire for us. 

I, for one, revel in my alone time because it gives me the chance to shamelessly partake in a colorful array of nasty-ass habits.  Like, for instance, eating S’mores for dinner while standing over the sink (because the thought of washing a plate literally weighs on my soul) wearing crusty, stained pajama pants that have spent the entire weekend molding to my lower half.

Anyhoo, while I enjoy my “gross-girl” downtime, that doesn’t mean I don’t miss him tons, and my lil’ ol’ heart still gets all a-flutter when it knows he’s coming home soon.

And since it looks like he might actually be sticking around for a while this time (more on that later), I feel I should get you guys all nice and acquainted.

Let’s see, how do I describe Chuckles?  Well, he’s an “extreme” kind of guy.

How so?  Well, he’s into stuff like this…

And this…

And this…

 And this…

All of which have, on occasion, lead to this…

 

Bad husband.  Bad.

And let’s just say my hobbies are a little less, um, diverse? 

…you get the idea.

So how do we make this crazy little thing called marriage work?

Well, we’ve got one very important quality in common, Chuckles and I…

 

A quality that allows us to take life less seriously and smile through even the toughest circumstances…

And I think it’s pretty obvious to everyone who knows us that the quality we share is…

…being dead sexy.

Aww yeah.