A Gecko Tried to Eat Me

If koala bears are the cutest infestation ever, these are second-cutest.

Monday, June 13, 2009

Two days until Harry Potter comes out. Since we are thirteen hours ahead of all my family in NY, we will get to see the movie first and we’re really excited to be obnoxious about it to them.

This morning was Dean’s first day of school, I mean work. He got dressed in his alphas to check in, which is the olive green suit and tan shirt and tie. He looked so durn cute in his uniform I wanted to hand him a G.I. Joe lunchbox and a book bag, but Dean insisted that was not necessary (and that, besides, G.I. Joe was Army). After checking in, he came back to the room to change into desert camis. I told him I was looking forward to the swimsuit part of the competition.

When Dean left, I went about straightening up the room and all of a sudden found myself staring right into the eyes of....a...gecko! We blinked at each other for a moment, then I jumped onto the coffee table. When I was convinced he was not going to eat me, I scurried to get a cup and a plate. This is the traditional spider-catching equipment used in the states at least, but I thought I would cleverly adapt it to the situation at hand. I crept up and quickly put the cup down over him. Well, I chased him as he slithered all over the room first and THEN quickly put the cup down over him. Then I slowly slid the plate under the cup. Victory! Gecko caught. I toyed with the idea of naming him Mr. Wigglepants and keeping him as a pet, but I didn’t guess Dean would agree with that decision. So, I did the right thing and released him into the wild. After taking a picture, of course.

I had to get my medical and dental records set up today, so Dean came to pick me up. The air was still super humid. Dean and I come up with an explanation-a-day as to “how humid is it?” Today’s: the air is so humid, you can’t breathe it, you have to chew and swallow it. I didn’t say they were all winners, people.

Got all my medical paperwork did up, had some lunch with the Deanzer, went to the bank and post office, and then went to the spouse employment services. It was 20% informative and 80% depressing. But I walked away with a few leads and a plan of action, so that part is good.

We spent the evening studying for our Japanese driving test and falling asleep to “Rachel Getting Married.” (Review: Dean says it’s “artsy.” This is an insult on the Ellis rating scale.)

First Saturday in Okinawa

Now that's what I call a boat load of food. Har har.

July 11, 2009

Saturday. We woke up finally around 10 AM local time. Everyone always asks me if I am affected by jet lag, but the truth is my brain is easily fooled by a clock. The clock tells me what time it is, I believe it and act accordingly. Noon? Doesn’t matter if I just ate, I must be hungry. 11 PM? Bed time!

We walked around Camp Hansen for a bit. The weather is about 90 degrees in the shade and so muggy, you almost have to do a breast stroke while walking to move through the air. So, I love it. Dean, not so much.

We got Dean’s hair cut and my interview suit tailored; bought some soap, foodstuffs, and other odds and ends; and rented a video. Valkyrie, but I didn’t like it. Spoiler: they weren’t able to assassinate Hitler. Boo to adhering to history.

In the afternoon, Dean called our Gunnery Sergeant (GSgt) / Sponsor and invited him and his wife out to dinner as a thank you for all his help. They suggested a sushi place that was out of this world. The tables were traditional Japanese style, about a foot off the floor with mats to kneel on. Dean’s poor bionic knee was killing him in a few minutes, so to be sympathetic I tried not to appear I was having as much fun as I really was. My sushi was so fresh, I think it swam onto my wooden platform-plate itself. Dean’s meal came in a carved boat. It would have gotten full points for plating on any Iron Chef competition. Everything was so delicious, I know I am going to be such a sushi snob when I get back to the States. Noice.

The GSgt and his wife were absolutely wonderful, and took us around the island a bit more to show us where things were and even brought us back to their home so we could see what base housing was like. Surprisingly spacious! I started getting excited to decorate our little corner of the island. It was such a nice evening. Can't wait to experience more of Okinawa!

Travel Two Days: Seattle to Kadena

July 9, 2009-July 10, 2009

Not even sure if this is the right date. Time is meaningless right now when we’re in the air crossing time zones willy nilly.

We got on the military flight at 1:30 AM. I am not sure how seats are assigned, but the gods smiled upon us and we got row seven! The plane is set up two seats-four seats-two seats. (xx_xxxx_XX) We got the right hand block of two seats. Awesome!

By 1:32 AM I was asleep in my chair. I woke up almost four hours later when Dean poked me. We were getting ready to land in Alaska to refuel and there were these majestic snow capped mountains poking up above the clouds. He figured I’d want a picture and he figured right. I whipped out my camera and clicked away. Alaska looks like a very cool place to visit. Literally and figuratively.

Being on a military flight is a lot different than being on a commercial civilian flight. There is a real sense of fellowship on a military flight. You’re all Americans going to a foreign land, so there is a lot of talking, mainly about what “you heard” about the new duty station. Everyone is very nice to each other, though I think that might have more to do with you never know who could be a C.O.’s wife or a General in civilian clothes.

We had a layover at Yokota, which is on the mainland, for an hour or so. Filing into the airport, I noticed a sign for WiFi, so I had my PC out, up, and connected before some people even sat down. I checked in with my ma and visited just a few very important sites, like Facebook. Then we hopped back onto that plane to go to our next stop, Iwakuni.

The way into Yokota was full of green mountains with little towns nestled in valleys. On the way out, all we could see were buildings stretching all the way to the horizon. Both sides were equally as impressive, really.

On the descent into Iwakuni, it was raining really hard. When we touched down, most people could tell something was wrong. I looked out the window and saw the wheels were creating huge fans of water, like we we hydroplaning. Dean told me that the ATC (air traffic control center) was mid-runway, and we landed directly in front of it. A few of the Air Force guys started taking bets with each other if we were going to hit the “oh, sh*t” line. Well, I didn’t know what the “oh, sh*t” line was, but I knew I wanted the guys who bet we WEREN’T going to hit it to win. Our front wheel just about crossed the row of red lights marking the end of the runway, and the pilot whipped the rest of the plane into a left turn. I saw the line that the guys were talking about. It was a thick metal cable stretched across a few feet above the ground to catch us in case the plane wasn’t able to stop at the end of the runway. Thank goodness, we avoided it. A collective sigh of relief was breathed. That was too exciting a landing for me, but most of the guys were already making jokes, like that we were doing the “taxi of shame.”

We waited an hour or so for the weather to clear before taking off again. From Iwakuni to Kadena (on the island of Okinawa) was only about an hour and fifteen minute plane ride. The landing was much more uneventful. We filled out our affidavits that we didn’t have swine flu, got my official passport stamped (woo hoo), collected our bags, and cleared customs. Our sponsor was waiting for us. He was fantastic. We got really lucky there.

Uncharacteristically, I was in sweats and flip flops with no makeup left on. Nevertheless, we were brought all around the island for administrative stuff. I just felt bad all of Dean’s coworkers’ first impression of me was with dried drool on my face and a hair style that looked like the one from “Something About Mary.” Anyway, Dean checked in and we got a PO box set up. It’s: PSC 559 Box 6141 / FPO AP 96377-6141. Please feel free to mail us letters, cards, gifties, or checks for large sums of money. Just kidding. Checks for small sums are okay, too.

We’d somehow lost a day while traveling, so after two days we were dead tired and fell fast asleep.

Last Day in Oregon

How stinkin cute is that?

July 8, 2009

Shawn, another of Dean’s brothers, (he has a whole bunch, don’t even bother keeping track) was kind enough to let us spend some time with his three-year-old son, our nephew Tyler. We met up with another of Dean’s friends, Amanda, in Portland for brunch and Tyler joined us. We saved some tortilla scraps because we’d seen a park with a koi pond on the walk to the restaurant and thought we’d feed them on the way back. I think Tyler could have spent hours throwing in tiny bits to the fish and watching them scurry to eat. Which is why it was good there was also woman at the park with three smallish kids with her. (I am SO bad at guessing kids’ ages. “Does it talk? Run? So, nine-ish then? Oh, he’s four. Excellent.”) I love how kids are so instantly familiar with each other, with none of those stupid “introductions” and “pleasantries” that adults have to endure. They just began sharing the scraps and clapping gleefully together when the fish ate them.

The way back to Hood River was a mess. If we weren’t so sure that Shawn would be a bit perturbed if we just kept Tyler forever instead of returning him, we wouldn’t have gone back. An oil tanker flipped on the highway and spilt its load. This is the worst possible thing that can happen in a tree-hugging state like Oregon. (Or is the correct term environmentally conscious? I never can remember.) They shut down the entire highway and left us to our own devices to find an alternate route. Who shuts down a whole interstate? We tried to make the best of it and stopped at the beautiful Multnomah Falls with Tyler, who hiked a good quarter-mile with his baby legs. We admired the 542-foot drop for awhile and then got back into the car. The second stop was not as lovely, as I think we may have exposed poor Tyler to his first port-a-john. I really, really hope that’s not the part of the trip he remembers. The usually forty-five minute drive took four and a half hours. We crossed the Oregon-Washington state border/river twice, but Tyler took it like a champ. His uncle Dean got him a little water gun as a reward for being so very good, which is another one of those things that kids love but parents, maybe not so much.

The drive killed most of the day, so we basically made it back to Hood River, said our last goodbyes, and turned around and started the drive up to Seattle. That was another four-ish hours on the road. Sometimes, travel is not so glamorous. Someone needs to invent teleporting, and soon.

We returned the car, got to the Seattle-Tacoma airport, filled out a mountain of paperwork, waited in nineteen different lines, and then hung out in the USO for awhile playing Rummy 500, which I felt the need to mention because I won. Right before midnight, we cleared security and headed to a satellite gate where we caught our military flight to Okinawa.

Hood River, Oregon, USA

July 7, 2009

Three states’ DMVs in a week. That has to be a record. But that’s how we started our morning in Hood River, OR. Dean needed to get his expired license updated so that we wouldn’t have any issues getting a license to drive in Japan. What a difference the Hood River DMV was from the ones in NY and San Diego! We walked in, went right up to the window and were greeted by Bob, the same person who had given Dean his driving test over a decade ago. The whole process took seventeen minutes, and probably fifteen of those minutes were shooting the breeze.

Finally, two whole days before we left the country, we had all our paperwork in order! We drove over to Larry’s (Dean’s brother’s) house bearing big Hershey bars for our nephews. We figured, kids like you when you bring anything their parents normally wouldn’t let them have. Larry and his wife just had their second baby six weeks ago, and I couldn’t wait to meet Mr. Jacob Alexander, or “Baby Jake” as his two-year-old big brother Isaiah calls him. Even though it was a Tuesday morning, the house was full of people who had arranged their schedules to see us, which was really very nice. Of course, I gave everyone their “hello”s, “you look great”s, and a administered a few hugs before making a beeline for that baby. Rachel is one of those very easy going, cool moms, so she let me hold teeny Baby Jake for hours, feeding him bottle after bottle. She generally tries not to feed him TOO much, and showed me why--his fat baby wrists were beginning to creep over onto the back of his hand. That didn’t bother me any. I just squealed with delight, because the only thing I like better than a baby is a fat baby.

We walked the kids down to a nearby park and let Isaiah run around and pushed him on a swing while the baby watched contently from his shady stroller. Then it was time to go up to Dean’s Mama Ricky’s house for lunch.

Dean’s known Mama Ricky for ages, and apparently gave her that name himself even though everyone else on the planet calls her “Katrina.” She has an incredible house on top of a mountain in Hood River with a big porch and stone patio overlooking the Columbia River. She and Robert grilled chicken and potatoes and we spent hours in the perfect 70-degree weather catching up, drinking a chewy red wine (as Katrina called it) and watching wind surfers on the river below. Hood River is so green and pretty. You know how the story “Jack and the Beanstalk” is set in Happy Valley? Well, Hood River looks a lot like that illustration in your fairy tale book. It was a perfect afternoon and I couldn’t decide which was the best: the view, the good eats, or the company. (I guess you’re supposed to end up choosing “company,” right?)

Dean’s dad was in town from Coos Bay, Oregon and said good-bye to Dean. He and his wife wished us the best, and then it was time to get to our dinner date with Eric and Mary in Sherwood--right outside of Portland. Busy day! Dean met them back when Eric was in the Corps the day after Eric and Mary got married. They came into his Marine Corps Administrator’s office in Hawaii to get their paperwork in order and became fast friends. Dean swears he became friends with them because they had a car. Eric and Mary thought and thought, but could not remember why they had become friends with Dean. Nevertheless, they’ve stayed in contact for years and have nicely accepted me into the fold. We see them every time we’re in town. We went to Gustav’s, a favorite of all of ours, mainly due to the awesome bier sausages and 500-calorie-per-bite cheese fondue. Every time we get together, I am regaled with a new hilarious story from their adventures in Hawaii, and the conversation ranges from hearing about their cute son to debating about politics and philosophy. Dean is very choosy about who he befriends, but I always tell him when he finally picks, he picks very well.

I had offered to sit with my nephews in the evening so Dean could go have a few drinks with all his brothers. Dean and I have been talking the talks about having kids one of these decades, so I figured not only would it be a great opportunity to spend some quality time with my nephews, but it would also be a great chance to “practice.” Well, some highlights. I never thought making a little 10-pound person burp would give me such a huge sense of accomplishment. I think two year olds have a greater lung capacity and more stamina than any opera singer. And I learned that Elmo is like crack to kids, and I am not above resorting to being their dealer. By the time mom and dad got home, though, I had two of them asleep and a big smile on my face. Rachel gave me a little bit of a reality check, however, when she told me now I knew what her evenings have been like for the last two years. I think both of the following statements can be true. Those kids are wonderful, and their mother is a saint.

Travel Day: SAN to LAX to SEA to PDX

Don't rain on this girl's parade.

July 6, 2009

The state ID war had a clear victor today--yes, me. I ended up getting a California driver’s license with a NY address printed on it. I’m not saying the evil DMV minions didn’t get in their jabs. The picture is truly terrible, and my weight gets printed on the front. But against all odds, I have a license, so I win.

While I was fighting the good fight for the little card that says I am allowed to drive, Dean managed to get all his last-minute transferring paperwork on base done. He also picked up my official military dependent passport, which he handed to me as I jubilantly entered the rental car. First thing I did was the first thing everyone does when they get their passport, which is flip to the photo page. I look almost completely and totally exactly like Barbra Streisand in my picture. I know what you’re thinking, maybe I should be grateful, many a drag queen would love to be in my position. But all I can say is oy vey.

We’d had to stop in San Diego to check in with Dean’s old base and get that administrative stuff done. Then we were headed up to the Northwest to say goodbye to Dean’s family before we left for Japan. We returned the rental car just in time and dashed into the commuter terminal at San Diego airport where despite taking almost everything on my person off save my cotton dress, I kept beeping through the metal detector. They took me to the side where I was thoroughly wanded by a very large female security guard. An aside...is it a rule that the TSA people buy their uniforms two sizes too small? Seriously, look next time you’re at an airport. Anyway, when it looked like it was my bra that was the offending item, she told me she’d have to pat me down and asked if I’d like to step into a private room. I took a quick glance down at the area in question and decided my dress was low cut enough it would be kind of pointless to begin feigning modesty at that point, so I just told her to go to town. Apparently my new underwire is especially metallic. I learned my lesson. No more undergarments whilst traveling for me.

After rushing to get to the airport on time, we endured several delays and ended up getting to Seattle more than a few hours after we were originally slated. We got an apology from our pilot, but it struck me that the airline industry is the only one that can get away with shenanigans like that. Any other company who didn’t deliver as promised would have to offer some kind of compensation other than “oops, our bad” or they’d go out of business. My idea is...open bar on the plane for delayed flights! Most of my great ideas revolve around open bars, actually.

We had booked a rental car online through Advantage, who, while the employees were very nice, had the shabbiest looking fleet of cars I’d ever seen together in one lot. Choosing the nicest, a dinged up Ford Focus, we immediately hit the road to Portland. We checked into the hotel pretty late and I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.