NOSCO Cupcake Queen

I belong to MOSC (Marine Officer Spouses Club) here, as well as NOSCO (Naval Officer Spouses Club of Okinawa). I served as a rep on the NOSCO board for a year and a half, but now I'm just a regular member. There are lots of opportunities to volunteer and donate time and money to charity, as well as social and cultural events, too. I take advantage of what I can. NOSCO is broken down into "coffee groups" that have a common workplace or community, and the chaplain spouses group is one of the biggest, if not the biggest as far as participation. Back when I was on the board, I was asked what we did to have such high numbers. I had to think about it, and admitted that I didn't think it was anything we did in particular, it was just that as "pastors' wives," we are used to being involved with the ministry and fellowship, and that it seemed to just be understood that involvement came with the territory. I wish I could have been of more assistance with fabulous ideas to help them with recruitment, but that was all I could figure.

Anyway, each month, one of the coffee groups takes a turn hosting a social event for the NOSCO membership as a whole. This month it was the chaplain spouses' turn to host, and they selected a cupcake night. I happen to love decorating cupcakes. I love this book, even though I have yet to make enough of them to justify the purchase. Needless to say, I was excited about their choice.

A professional cake decorator came in and taught us all kinds of tips and techniques. I didn't remember to bring my camera to get pics of some of the creations (from beautiful to bizarre) OR me standing with the group holding my winning, sakura cupcakes.


But here they are at home, properly staged on their matching cherry blossom platter. As beautiful as they are, the thought of eating all that frosting and fondant makes me ill. I would scrape it straight in the trash. These were for my kids, though...and they loved it!



I had to take a pic of these cupcake wrappers the instructor brought. I'm going to have to go to Jusco and buy my own, since they are personalized and all.

Cupcake Queen...another title to add to my repertoire.

I've sure missed hanging out with this guy

This past several weeks have been so crazy for me, but they've been just as crazy back home. I felt so guilty leaving when I did. As Operation Tomodachi was kicking into over-drive here, I left with Jake (leaving Cliff to manage the other three and their busy schedules) indefinitely. Cliff's boss left for the US for a conference and leave for several weeks...leaving him to manage working 14-16 hour days doing his part in the coordination of the relief efforts, while trying to handle things on the homefront, too. I did my best to try to stay connected with the kids via Facebook and email, but it's just not the same. I so wanted to be able to be that support and sounding board for Cliff when he came home at the end of a long day, especially under the current, stressful circumstances. It hurt my heart not to be able to be there for him.

The kids don't seem to have suffered much. There were some tough times with school stuff where I felt one of them really needed me here, but all in all, they did fine. One of my Visiting Teachers from church asked Patrick during Seminary carpool, "I feel bad that I haven't done anything for you guys...could I bring you dinner?" To which Patrick replied, "No, we are doing great! My dad bought all kinds of good food! White bread, toaster strudel, Chef Boy R Dee..."

It made me laugh when she recounted the conversation, because I could totally see Cliff walking into the commissary with the purpose of getting the most easy to prepare, most kid-desired food possible to last the rest of my absence. The kids knew a good thing when they saw it...and who wants to risk the Relief Society bringing over something actually nutritious?! (Now it's back to wheat bread and non "shelf-life" food. Mom's home. Bummer.)



Today was a real treat. We just had some mundane errands to run...but how lucky am I to have this man to run them with? It's SO good to be home!



We managed to squeeze in this lovely tempura and miso lunch at a Japanese restaurant in Jusco (Aeon, whatever! I'll never get used to their new name. Just like it took years to make the switch from Price Club to Costco...and I will NEVER call the Wild Animal Park "Safari Park." Won't happen!)



Even as we sat here with this wonderful meal in this cute little restaurant, things were different. We were more quiet than usual. I think we were kind of struggling to reconnect after fighting separate battles for the past almost-month. I know in the grand scheme of things, what we had to endure was nothing compared to what some people handle on a daily basis. Certainly nothing compared to what the people of Sendai are dealing with. We've had WAY longer deployments, and we've dealt with medical issues, too...so I'm not exactly sure what made this time so hard...except that I wasn't home. In the five deployments Cliff has done, the two that were preceded by a move were the hardest. There is just something about being settled that makes things easier to bear. Obviously for us, home varies greatly. It's wherever the Navy sends us, it's whatever structure happens to house our little family at the time...but having our family split in so many pieces, each of us dealing with our own battles just compounded the stress, I think.

At any rate, it's so good to be back home again. It sure makes one appreciate the little things, like grabbing a quick lunch in between shopping, getting keys made dropping off kids, etc. I'm sure we'll be back to normal in no time.

Pearl Harbor Sights

Since we didn't know how long we'd have here, we had Jake pick his "must do" activities before we left on our trip. There was only one. Pearl Harbor.


Things have really changed in the 23 years since I visited the USS Arizona monument on my high school graduation trip. When we were here 20 years ago on our honeymoon, it was closed for the upcoming 50 year anniversary re-dedication. When I shipped off the older two boys to meet Cliff here for the tiger cruise 9 years ago, it was closed for more renovations. It was so obvious that much thought and work has gone into this complex. There is so much to see.



We started out at the USS Bowfin. I think almost anyone would be interested in touring a real live submarine...but this was especially special to us, because this submarine was like my grandpa's submarine, the USS Sailfish. We were super excited to check it out.



This is the view looking back at the shore from the deck. Isn't it a beautiful park?



It must have been so fun to be a submariner and get to play with all this stuff every day.



Even if you did have to sleep stacked three high.



In this passageway, some of the racks were pulled up during the day to make room to pass.



Space was at a real premium, so every bit of it had to be used. Racks were stashed wherever there was room.



I loved the little utilitarian details. No room for a watercooler...and no such thing as disposable cups.



This looks like my mixer on steroids. I love this little galley kitchen. It reminds me of my own. I remember my grandpa talking about how good the food was aboard the submarines. He said that generally, the smaller the boat, the better the food. Hopefully that applies to home kitchens, too.



Galley area. Notice the lip around the table in case things get a little bumpy.



I loved all this retro stuff. This typewriter is especially awesome.



Coming back topside after our tour below.











As we were leaving, we had to pass a table containing souvenir newspapers featuring the pics they take as you enter the exhibit. They said this is a replica of the real newspaper from the day of the attack. Ten bucks, that goes toward the foundation in charge of all this wonderful preservation. I would have bought it if the lady was spending the money at Target on her way home, because as I've mentioned before, I am a complete sucker for all these tourist photo traps.










Look...it's home!



Am I taking a picture of the beautiful mural...or the cute Mennonite couple? You know me...what do you think?



Finally, our time came to ride the boat out to the Arizona memorial.























My sentiments exactly.



There she is.







Do you see the oil sheen on the water? The ship had just been fully refueled before the bombing. It leaks about a quart of oil a day. Survivors of the bombing say it will continue to leak until the last survivor dies.



Looking up. Beautiful sight.



Where else can you command a ship as an E-4? Pretty sweet work.



Next, we boarded the shuttle for the trip over to Ford Island and the USS Missouri museum.



I love Quonset huts. It must be in my blood.



It's amazing to think that the battleship Missouri was in service as late as Operation Desert Storm.



The guns are so impressive.



As are these enormous chains.



The pictures just really don't do the impressiveness justice.



If you haven't noticed a theme, Jake is always drawn to the armament.



He attempts to break this one down. It was rusted shut. Bummer.



I had no idea her deck was wooden. It's quite a contrast with the otherwise modern look.



More Okinawa references. We're famous.



Jake had visibly been in pain for quite some time, but about this point he couldn't hack it anymore. We didn't spend much time exploring below, but we did find the Chaplain's office.

Besides, it was time for us to check into the hotel.



The End

World Peace and Inner Rage

Warning: This post is kind of rantish. Normally I like to keep it shiny and happy here (with the occasional mommy breakdown). If shiny and happy is what you are after, you may want to skip this one. My intention is not to offend anyone...(well, anyone other than the whiny, progressive, clueless elitists of which I write.) but I realize my tone here might kill your buzz, regardless. Fair warning.

I've been kind of an emotional wreck today. It's a combination of things, I'm sure...Cliff being gone, the cold, rainy, gray day outside, etc. (and by etc., I'm sure I mean hormones). Before I continue, I'd like you to read a couple of articles:

First, this one. It's short. I'll wait.

Then, this one. It's longer...but please {if you love me} read it. It means that much. I'll still wait....




You back? Thanks for reading those. Maybe now you'll better understand my frame of mind, and the ranting which will now commence.

After reading the first one, I just felt rage. Well, rage, and like I just wanted to throw up. I'm serious. What the expletive is wrong with our country? Or at least with the elite "progressives" in it? I have to say I am a political moderate...I have friends all along the spectrum whom I love dearly and AGREE WITH to some degree or another, I'm sure...but can we not all agree that someone who sacrificed a whole, healthy body and normal life for the freedom of your whiny, elite, progressive behind...deserves some respect?

Listen, you don't have to agree with bringing ROTC back onto your campus...but what these snot-nosed kids did was absolutely shameful and pathetic. {Nevermind that ROTC is a fantastic, self-supporting, leader-developing program...which would help to mold and shape *the very same low-income individuals you claim that the military preys upon*, into the leaders of the future. I hear complaints about how the officer ranks are so lacking in diversity...well here's a missed opportunity to remedy that! ROTC produces leaders.}

And while we are on the topic...let's take a look at the issue of the military "preying" on low income communities. I thank my LUCKY STARS for my (almost) five years in the Navy. It was life-changing. I am not exaggerating when I say it changed my destiny. {Not the least of which was meeting and marrying my husband...BUT THAT'S NOT EVEN WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!} When I joined the Navy, I WAS one of those low-income people mentioned on the sign in the picture! I was recruited out of an inner-city neighborhood, thank you very much! I had ZERO prospects for college...and about as much self-esteem. Since I'm laying it all out there for you guys...here it is...I BARELY graduated high school. I had to go to night school to get enough credits to graduate. I had no money, a part time job at the mall and divorced parents, neither of whom could afford to put me through college.

But I'll tell you what I did have...I had a legacy. Like the beautiful (and pitiful) quote in the second article..."Service to and sacrifice for the nation have become a legacy affair for a relatively small number of families." But even at that, this legacy really meant nothing to me, until I did something to claim it. I entered boot camp with not a lot of prospects, no direction, little self esteem, but a desire to follow in my grandfather's big footsteps. I left boot camp with the realization that I mattered...that there was a big world out there, and that I had the opportunity to invent myself in it. And I did...boy did I ever! If I had stayed where I was, I can promise you...the ending (or at least the journey) would have been much different.

This same scenario happens each time a Sailor (or any service member) graduates boot camp. She becomes part of something bigger. He is exposed to people from all walks of life and learns to work with and appreciate their differences. I realize I'm romanticizing something which is much grittier, but at it's very core, this is the truth. What the heck is wrong with that? I resent being painted as a victim. I resent being presented as someone who was preyed upon or taken advantage of by the military because I had no other options. NO...I was given THE GIFT of options by the Navy, thank you very much. THE GIFT of learning just how capable I am...that no one else gets to define me but me. It's an amazing thing that happens within the walls of that open squad bay. The process of having your "old self" stripped away to nothing so that the "new you" can be built back up.

{Trivia: I remember a friend from high school telling me how sorry she felt for me that I was missing out on the "college experience" she was having (up the street from her childhood home). I didn't have the heart to tell her how sorry I felt for her (and still do) as she is still trapped in the same town by the same family whom she allows to abuse and define her. I might be having a different (and extended) college experience...but I'll take the life-altering lessons the Navy gave me, PLUS the money for college...over frat party life any day.}

{More Trivia: I think this is the main reason I loved my job in military education so much. I got to see these young Sailors, who were just like I was, who had come from similar circumstances and joined the military to "be somebody"...and I had the privilege of helping them to become even better. They were serving their country, and I got to help them through the process of letting their country return the favor with an education. Sweet work, if you can get it.}

Am I ignoring the fact that some of these service members pay a very high price? That some lose limbs? Give the ultimate sacrifice? Absolutely not. I can't even fathom what it is like to make that sacrifice...or to love someone who has made that kind of sacrifice. But I would rather myself, my husband or my child die FIGHTING for something better, than so many other options out there. There are FAR worse things to lose a spouse or child to than death...especially death in the service of something greater than yourself.

In the second article, it was like Adm. Mike Mullen expressed the thoughts I had years ago but couldn't even find words for, when he said, "I worry that we could wake up one day and that the American people will no longer know us and we won't know them." or when Ike Skelton said, "Those who protect us are psychologically divorced from those who are being protected."

Like a horrific flashback, it brings me back to a time in the early days of OEF and OIF, where we were experiencing deployment after deployment...where the price our family was paying was high...and it felt like people were just going about their daily lives, completely unaware of what our reality was. Like we were living in a different country within our own neighborhoods and schools. I found myself tiring of having to muster polite responses to their platitudes. If I had to hear "we support the troops but not the war" or "they just need to bring them all home" in those pitiful, condescending tones, directed at me {their token military friend}; from one more complacent, San-Diego-BMW-driving, quasi-peacenik...I was going to forget my manners. It felt SOOO wrong, that I should have to endure that. To say goodbye to my husband again and again, to steel my kids for the pain and uncertainty ahead, hold our whole world together until he returned...and "play nice" with my "progressive" neighbors who obviously had no idea (or didn't care) whom or what provided them the luxury not to worry, while they thought their progressive thoughts. I can't explain it...other than to say it was soul-crushing on days that I allowed it to be.

So today, I find myself very reflective. Wallowing a bit in that challenging experience...feeling so much empathy for those still in the thick of it (both on the front lines, and trying to hold down the home-front for their families). But I also came to the realization that it is easy for us here on Okinawa to forget that so many military families are still living this experience in their communities back in the USA. It hit me that we don't have that problem here. We are surrounded, day in and day out, by other American military families. Not all of them are in the military...there are civilians (school teachers and asst'd. contractors) but they are all still part of the same basic mission. We all pretty much "get it" with few exceptions. I realized that this was another benefit of living here that makes it hard to want to leave....but isn't that a sad statement? That we would "feel the love" here on foreign soil, more so than in Anytown, USA?

Anyway, this is just one example of why I shouldn't read the news while Cliff is gone. I need to stay focused on doing what I need to do. I really don't normally dwell on these thoughts...it's much easier not to, but whenever I read articles like these, I can really let my emotions get the better of me.

God bless Anthony Maschek, The Kelly family, and all of our service members and their families who are currently fighting the fight, or who have already paid the price for us in so many ways. I promise, I will never forget.

"Freedom is not free, but the United States Marine Corps will pay most of your share."---Ned Dolan

Thoughtful Birthday Surprises

Going to the post office is usually a highlight in my day. Well, only when I'm expecting something. Which I am, a lot of the time, since we have to do a lot of online shopping over here. I think I've already told you about the yellow slips of cardstock they put into our mailboxes when we have a package (dubbed, 'golden tickets'). When I get one in my box, I usually know all the possible things it could be. Birthdays and Christmas can yield unexpected surprises, though.

The Lovely Lisa and I usually exchange Bday gifts. She has impeccable taste that can be difficult for me to match. I always know whatever she sends me will be a great find, and this year was no different. I can't wait to try out my new silicone baking mats...and the personalized paisley post-its and other stationary is just my style. (She is the stationary guru, I swear.)

I got another package that was totally unexpected, however. It was from another one of my awesome friends, Michelle. Here's a picture of her and her beautiful family, which I unabashedly stole from her Facebook:

I met Michelle here on Okinawa. She was my visiting teacher, and I can't even begin to tell you how lucky that made me. Let me tell you when I first fell in love with her, though. I didn't know her that well, just a bit in passing at church. Then her husband was called to be our congregation's Branch President. When she got up that first Sunday to bear her testimony, she had known about the calling for about a week, I guess (it's always kept a surprise for the rest of the congregation until it's announced). She got up, and choking back the emotion said "It's been so awesome praying for you guys all week" and went on to tell us about the love she felt for us. Emotion came over me like a warm blanket and I couldn't fight back the tears, because I could feel how much she really meant it. She had me at "we've been praying for you guys," but went on to demonstrate her love and selflessness in so many ways. I would seriously hear her name at every turn, in relation to all kinds of people from church...those her age and not, with kids her kids' ages and not...and from all different military communities (which, for better or worse, can tend stick to "their own kind").

She helped me in ways that only she even knows about. It was like she was an angel sent to me just when I needed her (even though it was obvious I wasn't the only one she was serving). It was small things like "I remembered this awesome poetry writing book for middle schoolers I used while I was teaching, I thought you might like it for Jake" to sharing good finds in "hippie food," as she calls it...which we shared a love for...to helping me process really gut-wrenching stuff that nearly consumed me (which I won't blog about, because...mostly, they're not really my stories to tell here).

So it should not have surprised me when she went out of her way to send me this little surprise:



I ripped open the box while I was in the post office parking lot. As soon as I saw this little, gold bag...I knew what it was...and the tears started to flow. Luckily, I came to my senses and grabbed the camera...



And when I saw the tell-tale, criss-cross pattern on the top, it was confirmed...



They were my favorite (favorite isn't even strong enough of a word) DARK chocolate, Key-lime truffles from Godiva. Three of them. I don't know if I can express how much I love these things. They are like the perfect flavor combination. I buy Cliff a $25 box of dark chocolate truffles for every gift-giving occasion, JUST so I can have the two of these that the box contains (secret's out now, I guess. Sorry honey).

But the sweetest thing is, Michelle remembered this little detail, just from me mentioning it one time...and went out of her way to send me such a small, but special thing....JUST like all the thoughtful things she did for me while she was here...which is really why I was crying...because it reminded me of this...and how much I miss her. You know, moving is part of military life...we just do it and accept it...look at it as collecting friends along the way...but in this case, I felt like we were robbed because their orders here got cut WAY short, and now they are back in the USA. It felt like we were just getting started...but something tells me we'll be friends forever, just the same. I've learned to never say never, because I've been proven wrong before. We just may end up in the same town again someday. Aloha 'oe...until we meet again, my friend. I want to be just like you when I grow up.