Live and Learn

The Marine Corps very nicely struck a deal with the Rosetta Stone people to allow Marines to take Rosetta Stone language classes online for freesies. Because Rosetta Stone programs are very expensive, and because I am still used to spending all evening in classes anyway, I settled in this evening to take advantage of the Level 1 Japanese course. I had to stop 45 minutes later when I realized I was yelling at the computer, “Watashi wa...HATE YOU!” Apparently my pronunciation is not what it should be. Or maybe my microphone is broken. Yeah, it's probably the microphone come to think of it.

In other mundane news, I was so excited to see a loaf of Jewish rye at the grocery store today I scooped it up like it was the last Zhu Zhu Pet and a crowd of crazy parents were running toward it. It wasn't until I got home that I realized I bought absolutely nothing to put on it. I'm sure the commissary will have pastrami for a day or two a few months from now. How long can you keep bread frozen?

But I Swear I'm Not a Republican

Today Dean and I went to the doctor's ostensibly to discuss the ultrasound results from last Wednesday. However, what actually happened is that we got there, I got weighed, I explained how very heavy maternity jeans were and that they should probably subtract seven to ten pounds, and then we waited for 20 minutes to see the doctor for all of 30 seconds so that he could tell us the results were not back yet. I think my doctor (who was assigned to me, by the way) is one of those guys who doesn't “put much stock” in ultrasounds anyway, and I think that because that's what he said. Modern science, shmodern science. Now I know this clinic has phones and that they use them, because I have to sit on hold for a very long time every time I call. So I am still trying to figure out why no one called me to have me reschedule my appointment until at least the results were in. With all the talk of health care reform going on in Congress now, my idea is to put every one of those Congressmen onto military health insurance, which would give lawmakers a good inside look of how socialized health care actually operates. The sad fact is, folks, even where life and limb are concerned, I think you really do get what you pay for.

Take Me Out to the Ball

It took a village, to get me in this dress.

St. Barbara is the patron saint of artillerymen in the Marine Corps, and every year the artillerymen have a ball in her honor. Dean is an administrator (meaning he has a desk job), but he is attached to an artillery unit here so we were cordially invited to the event.

At 9 feet tall and 6 months pregnant, I am about 4.5 times the size of a normal Japanese woman and so I cannot really buy too many clothes out in town. Ergo, I ordered a dress for the event online about a month prior, to give it time to ship here—a beautiful ivory-colored strapless number with silver beaded detail. When I went to make the purchase, I took some measurements, approximated a weight gain curve, closed my eyes, and selected a size 10. Just to give you a frame of reference, I wore a strapless dress for Tracy's wedding in June in a size 4, so I figured if worse came to worse I could always get the ball dress taken in by a tailor if it was too big. When the dress came in two weeks later, however, it fit perfectly. No need for tailoring. Then last night came. I flat-ironed my hair, put on my face, shimmied the dress over my head, and turned around to have Dean zip it for me. He just laughed. “No way is that going to zip!” he choked out through his guffaws. Well, it took ten minutes and a fair amount of cajoling the poor overwrought zipper, but we squeezed me in! Then it was time to waddle off to the ball.

Most of the time I like a plated meal service, but the buffet was really very good and what's more, it stayed open all night, so no complaints there. I tried to order a seltzer with lime but not knowing the Japanese word for seltzer, my pointing and gesturing somehow got me tonic water which I have to tell you tastes really bad without the gin in it.

There was a lot of standing up and sitting back down, as I guess Colonels and Generals tend to expect standing ovations to their speeches. Knowing it takes a bit of energy to maneuver myself into a standing position these days, Dean kindly offered a hand to help me up to my feet. As he lifted, he made a grunting noise like he was picking up a rhinoceros. This earned him some death-ray eyes, which I've been working on because as everyone knows, all moms need a LOOK. I daresay mine is pretty effective, because subsequent gentlemanly aids by Dean were suffered through in silence.

After the dinner and the speeches, the artillerymen put on funny skits about how God created artillerymen, who were naturally just the bravest and the brightest in all of the Marine Corps and the world, for that matter. After that, they mixed up a disgusting “punch” drink with ingredients donated from the audience like sweat wrung from a sock, and then had an unfortunate young artillerymen sample a glass and proclaim it “very tasty, sir.” There were also song parodies and story-telling, so really it was a very entertaining evening.

Just a Trim

Got my hair trimmed by a lovely woman named Ayako today. Even with me sitting down in the chair at its lowest, she still had to stand on tip-toe to see the top of my head. In her broken English and my VERY broken Japanese, we established that I was expecting an akachan (baby) in Shigatsu (April). Ayako informed me that spring was the best season to be born and congratulated me on a job well done when I told her I was having a boy.

Unlike the hairdressers I am used to in the states who take off two inches when I ask them to take off a quarter of an inch, Ayako would only trim the amount I indicated between my thumb and forefinger. But then she would tell me how pretty I would look if she could just trim a little more. So of course I ended up with the two inches off anyway, but I have to say I felt much more involved in the decision making process.

All About Baby Day

Before.

After.

My first thoughts of what we would need when we found out we were having a baby were things like...a crib...diapers...bottles. Dean, on the other hand, thought CAR. We are driving his-and-hers two-door Honda Civics currently, so if we wanted to put a car seat in the backseat (which is the "legal" way, I suppose), we would need at least one more door. Yesterday we went to pick up Dean's new purchase. It was...a minivan. Yes, the man who purchased a flashy sports car convertible just two short years ago was now standing proudly in front of a big silver minivan. I have to hand it to Dean. He doesn't do anything half-way. Of course, I told him it was everything I had ever wanted.

Today I took a day off of work to go to a prenatal appointment at the Naval Hospital on Camp Lester. It is a good hour away from our house, maybe an hour and a half or two in traffic. I am already getting nervous about making it there in time when the baby is ready to come. Fortunately, many women have assured me that I will be spending WAY more than two hours in labor, so I have nothing to worry about. We had a level II diagnostic ultrasound to check on the development and we will get the results back Monday. It was so great to see the baby. At this point, we are pretty certain the baby is a boy. He is already very long, and whereas most fetuses are in, well, the fetal position, our guy insists on keeping his legs straight out, crossed at the ankles. The other thing he kept doing that annoyed the ultrasound tech but to me was an obvious sign of early genius is every time she put the ultrasound wand on my belly, he would look right at it. This made it near impossible for her to get a profile shot. But, really, wasn't that very smart of him?

After we got done at the hospital we swung by the housing agency to pay our rent. Maki, one of the women there, hadn't seen me in awhile and chirped happily, "You are going to have a baby!"

I said yes, I was, and she asked, "When?"

I told her April and she looked across the office and gestured toward one of the other women. "She also has a baby in April!" Maki told me.

The pregnant Japanese woman and I met eyes and of course glanced down at each other's bellies. I am carrying a 30-pound, regulation-size basketball on my front now. Her stomach was just very slightly distended, like she'd had a big lunch. The look we shared crossed any language barriers and the whole office erupted into laughs.

"Me, the end of April," she offered helpfully. "You, beginning?"

"Very beginning," I assured her.

I Watched New Moon with 100 Marines

In a touching scene, Edward begs Bella to wait a few years before she becomes a vampire. "Why?" she wants to know. "I'm hoping you fill out a little more," supplied the Marines in front of us.

Put in a full day of work yesterday at the nuthouse. We get one English radio station out here, Wave FM, that we keep on all day. The Marines dee-jay it from one of the camps on the island. I liked one of the tag lines I heard on it yesterday-"Wave FM. Your alternative...to silence."

Dean called during the day to see if I wanted to go to New Moon that evening, the new teen angsty/vampire movie. I did NOT want to go, but I grudgingly agreed to anyway. I know Dean likes an immediate audience for his movie talking. Looking back, I really should have traded him doing the sink full of dishes for going.

We got to the movie a half hour early and it was already very full for Camp Hansen standards, about 50% occupied. Most of the Marines on Camp Hansen are single young guys and, as a rule, enjoy movie talking just as much as Dean. Marine movie theatres are not the kind you get shushed in. In fact, truly obnoxious comments during particularly poignant moments are usually rewarded with appreciative laughs or barks (yes, Marines bark). They have such a good time being insufferable, I am pretty sure that is why the base even bothers showing dramatic films in between the shoot-em-ups.

They were all in rare form during New Moon. They mock-cheered in high-pitched squeals when one of the young male leads whipped off his shirt to stop the heroine's bleeding. They laughed uproariously at the more romantic moments, and several times felt it incumbent upon them to advise the main vampire he had "no balls."

Overall the movie was pretty lame, but I would have to recommend going anyway if you have the chance to see it with a bunch of young Marine movie talkers.

The Hunt for a Christmas Tree in Okinawa

Yesterday Dean and I hopped into the car and drove 20 miles/40 minutes to Kadena Air Base. The Air Force BX always has nicer stuff than the Marine Corps PX's, so I wanted to go there. Of course, before going shopping I dropped Dean off with his friend at the driving range on the Kadena base. It made me feel like a soccer mom already.

Christmas stuff out here is hard to come by. I had already struck out on two bases--Camps Courtney and Hansen were already sold out of Christmas trees by the day after Thanksgiving. I'd gotten a tip from a coworker that a third base (Camp Foster) was a complete zoo owing to them having procured some live trees, so I wouldn't even bother trying there. I got lucky and found a pre-lit, 6.5-foot artificial tree on Kadena for a pretty good price--$69. Someone snagged the last big ornament set before I got to it, but I was able to scoop up a few gold balls and an odd, Chinese pagoda thing that I decided to use as a tree topper. I like to wind thick ribbon around the tree, but that was no where to be found. I would ask my Ma to send it but by the time it gets out here, Christmas will be done and gone.

I browsed around and picked up a few gifties. If you think you might be one of the people I bought a gift for, better play it safe and send me one. Then I went to pick up Dean and spent a few minutes judging the driving contest, where the bets ranged from who had to buy dinner to which waitress at the club house Dean's friend would have to hit on if Dean drove the ball further.

We set up the tree when we got home. And by "we" I mean I tore into it while Dean protested from the couch that it was way too early to set it up. And then when I had made a mess of layering the fake-fir tiers completely incorrectly, he stepped in and fixed it with a sigh that I assume could only be one of contentment. I paired my fakey tree with a mistletoe-scented candle. I doubt its visible metal rod and sparse, Charlie-Brown-esque branches are fooling anyone, even paired with the (also artificial) scent, but hey, we tried! Then we had a few people come for dinner to our newly festive apartment. I served overcooked roast beef, which I blamed on my Japanese convection oven. But the Marines we had over were very kind and assured me they didn't mind at all, because the meal had their favorite quality--it was free.

Just another Sunday in Okinawa.