Seriously, I was thinking I might squirt some tears departing from Norfolk. I did a little, over leaving my new friends at the Y (we already miss Michelle, Cassandra, Carol, Ashley, Ms. Barbara, and on and on). However, there are many things that I will. not. miss. (shout out to the ladies from Rants from Mommyland for making the use of the period so meaningful).
1. Not having a dishwasher. Not much else I can say about that. Wait a second....Nope. I got nothing.
2. Not having really sharp knives. We are a cooking family. If you like to cook you know the importance of really sharp knives.
3. The housekeeping staff. Most people think, "wow, you had housekeeping for ten weeks? Nice!" No. The first day the crazy retired harbor chick made it clear she was nuts. I think she said this to me, "We're here to take care of the men." I don't know about you, but this made her sound like a prostitute. Take care of the men? Baaahawhawha. She also told me that they "might" remember to take out the trash. Not from our house...but the ginormous can outside of our house about twenty feet to the road. Lastly, she said if we backed up the plumbing, we would be out on the street. Right. We filed a complaint and never saw her or her gray skunk stripe again. (she looked like Stripe from the Gremlins in human form). And yes, they sometimes remembered to take out our trash. It was really hard to remember, given that they took our neighbor's bin out every week, without fail. (Our trash cans are 2 feet away from each other).
4. I will not miss getting hit on by men who are old enough to be my father on the 4th floor of the Y. Yes, I am working out as hard as you. My presence, the fact that I was friendly, and one of the few females who entered that floor does not give you the right/privilege to hit on me. And yes, I told my husband.
5. Getting stuck in underwater tunnel traffic. I'm not sure how many tunnels there are, but I swear they are everywhere. And they always involve traffic.
6. Hearing the trumpet, National Anthem, Taps, etc. at daybreak and sunset. I am patriotic. Just not every single day. And night.
7. The weird, awkward moment upon entering base when the "guy" or "gurl" (Jack's description) salutes (Jack calls it "sa-uut") us. Yes, salute my husband. He's the military officer. Not me. And why me? Is it because I married him? Is it the sticker on the car? It makes me feel funny and I am still not sure what to do back. Do I smile? Wave? Salute? Say thank-you? Jack thinks it's great. Brad said it is a "Navy thing" so no more saluting at good 'ol Fort Belvoir. Whew!
I guess these are all minor irritations - so one last hoorah for Norfolk, our new home away from home!
Anna Marie
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Life. Celebrated Daily.
In our few days left, I have started to think about the last ten weeks. What will I miss? How have our lives changed because of these ten weeks? How will things change when we go back home to Springfield? Being in this crazy life, just when something starts to feel like home, you are pretty much guaranteed a change. Love it or hate it, it is our reality. It stinks when two things happen: 1) you move somewhere you hate (ahem...Montgomery) or 2) you go somewhere for a short time and fall in love with it. Tough, because we love the DC Metro area, but I have to admit, good 'ol Norfolk has grown on me.
What we will miss:
1. Blocker Norfolk YMCA. The lovely ladies of the front desk who let us in the back, joke around with Jack, and are just simply nice people. All the really cool ladies in ChildWatch, who became our friends. And the people who work out really hard on the 4th floor.
2. Weekly festivals. Norfolk's saying/motto is "Life Celebrated. Daily." They embrace this with every type of festival possible. Like I said before, we dig the festival thing. They are the cure for the common cause of boredom.
3. Walking out our front door and not having to go down (or worse, up) two flights of stairs. Yes, we are living in a two-story house. Our home is NoVA is stacked...stairs up to the front door, stairs up to the main floor, stairs to the bedrooms, more stairs to the basement. Stairs, stairs, stairs. Maybe this is why I have put on a few pounds here.
4. Being able to walk less than five minutes in any direction from our front door only to find a very cool playground.
5. Being able to drive 30 minutes (or less) to Dam Neck beach. The military super secret beach. Not really. But it is pure awesomeness. A beach that you can only access with a military I.D. Nice. An stretch of the Atlantic coastline that is oddly quiet, absent of seagulls and the sand has minimal sharp shells. Almost as nice as Fort DeSoto.
6. Going for a run in downtown Norfolk with mermaid statues, huge schooners, ships, and the historic USS Wisconsin as my scenery along the Elizabeth river.
7. It doesn't take 40 minutes to get anywhere (unlike in DC, where you plan your life around traffic patterns).
8. It makes me think of home (as in Tampa home). There is a river, a bay and an ocean (close enough to the Gulf minus the tar balls). Sorry. It's still to soon isn't it. Damn BP. Damn you.
9. We have had a crazy amount of time together as a family. It's priceless. We know this and tried to make the most of it. We are very lucky.
10. Missing that we have an almost normal routine...we actually get up, eat breakfast together, hang out a bit, drop Papa off at school, sometimes have lunch together. I am already missing this, because I know back in DC things are going to go back to a more rushed pace. Brad is sad he will go back to having about 4 hours of Jack time and about 1 hour of Anna time. Back to the real world.
We can honestly say we lived life here. And celebrated it. Daily.
Cheers Norfolk!
Anna Marie, Bradley & Jack
What we will miss:
1. Blocker Norfolk YMCA. The lovely ladies of the front desk who let us in the back, joke around with Jack, and are just simply nice people. All the really cool ladies in ChildWatch, who became our friends. And the people who work out really hard on the 4th floor.
2. Weekly festivals. Norfolk's saying/motto is "Life Celebrated. Daily." They embrace this with every type of festival possible. Like I said before, we dig the festival thing. They are the cure for the common cause of boredom.
3. Walking out our front door and not having to go down (or worse, up) two flights of stairs. Yes, we are living in a two-story house. Our home is NoVA is stacked...stairs up to the front door, stairs up to the main floor, stairs to the bedrooms, more stairs to the basement. Stairs, stairs, stairs. Maybe this is why I have put on a few pounds here.
4. Being able to walk less than five minutes in any direction from our front door only to find a very cool playground.
5. Being able to drive 30 minutes (or less) to Dam Neck beach. The military super secret beach. Not really. But it is pure awesomeness. A beach that you can only access with a military I.D. Nice. An stretch of the Atlantic coastline that is oddly quiet, absent of seagulls and the sand has minimal sharp shells. Almost as nice as Fort DeSoto.
6. Going for a run in downtown Norfolk with mermaid statues, huge schooners, ships, and the historic USS Wisconsin as my scenery along the Elizabeth river.
7. It doesn't take 40 minutes to get anywhere (unlike in DC, where you plan your life around traffic patterns).
8. It makes me think of home (as in Tampa home). There is a river, a bay and an ocean (close enough to the Gulf minus the tar balls). Sorry. It's still to soon isn't it. Damn BP. Damn you.
9. We have had a crazy amount of time together as a family. It's priceless. We know this and tried to make the most of it. We are very lucky.
10. Missing that we have an almost normal routine...we actually get up, eat breakfast together, hang out a bit, drop Papa off at school, sometimes have lunch together. I am already missing this, because I know back in DC things are going to go back to a more rushed pace. Brad is sad he will go back to having about 4 hours of Jack time and about 1 hour of Anna time. Back to the real world.
We can honestly say we lived life here. And celebrated it. Daily.
Cheers Norfolk!
Anna Marie, Bradley & Jack
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Super-sounds of Norfolk
Lately I have been noticing the sounds of Norfolk. It has been a bit irritating. Where we live in Northern Virginia offers a cacophony of metros, trains, freights, and traffic, so I am surprised that sound is even an issue. Daily we hear the drone of planes, the clop-clop helicopters, the air horns of Navy and commercial ships, the slow chug-chug of freight trains and on occasion the deafening roar of jets flying in formation.
One Saturday after first moving on base, we heard a loud screech followed by the crunch of metal. Of course, I ran outside with Jack on my hip (I did have shoes on) to see the cause. Our house is located right next to the gate to the outside world. Outside of this gate is a good sized ditch and a very large, busy road (Terminal Blvd). The cause of the noise...a small SUV that careened into the ditch nose first. Everyone was okay and cell phones were out and being dialed.
Being right next to Terminal Blvd., which leads directly into the Norfolk International Port, means lots of big semi-tractor trailers and trains. Just the other day, we were sitting on the front stoop doing sidewalk chalk, when I heard a noise so loud and explosive I threw myself on top of Jack. Turns out it was a semi blowing a tire (we saw said semi several seconds later, tire shredded and flapping). However, this was close to what I imagine a small bomb would sound like.
All this talk of sounds, noises, and what not led me to wonder, "Why the heck am I so sensitive to sound lately? Perhaps I do have some super-powers after all (I think I mentioned this in a previous post). Well, low and behold, Bradley has figured it out.
Let's go back a few days....let's say Monday of last week. Jack and I were sitting outside playing and I felt what I thought was a mosquito bite. I ignored it. The next day, what looked to be an innocent mosquito bite turned into a very large welt, with surrounding rings of red. It's a spider bite that kept getting bigger and uglier.
A day later, while describing to Bradley how sounds were driving me crazy lately and how I planned to blog about it, he asked me to walk over to the wall. Looking at him with what he refers to as the "skeptical Anna" face, I went to the wall. He then asked me to put a hand on the wall. I complied. He then asked me to put my other hand on the wall. I started laughing and said, "Are you checking out my butt?" He said, "No. Just keep moving your hands, kind of like you are climbing the wall."
Brad then starts singing, "Spider-pumpkin*, spider-pumpkin, does whatever a spider-pumpkin can."
I kid you not. I respond, "You're a big dork" and swat at him with my superhero hand. So much for checking out my butt. Brad has effectively explained my sensitivity to sounds as a result of my newfound superhero spidey powers. My spider bite (now ten days out) is finally starting to go away.
Shhwip ~ (this is me flinging my web to sign off).
Spider-pumpkin
*If you didn't know, Brad calls me Pumpkin more than Anna. It's a big, ongoing joke. Everyone thinks its hilarious. In retaliation, I call him Squash. Go ahead, call him Squash too.
One Saturday after first moving on base, we heard a loud screech followed by the crunch of metal. Of course, I ran outside with Jack on my hip (I did have shoes on) to see the cause. Our house is located right next to the gate to the outside world. Outside of this gate is a good sized ditch and a very large, busy road (Terminal Blvd). The cause of the noise...a small SUV that careened into the ditch nose first. Everyone was okay and cell phones were out and being dialed.
Being right next to Terminal Blvd., which leads directly into the Norfolk International Port, means lots of big semi-tractor trailers and trains. Just the other day, we were sitting on the front stoop doing sidewalk chalk, when I heard a noise so loud and explosive I threw myself on top of Jack. Turns out it was a semi blowing a tire (we saw said semi several seconds later, tire shredded and flapping). However, this was close to what I imagine a small bomb would sound like.
All this talk of sounds, noises, and what not led me to wonder, "Why the heck am I so sensitive to sound lately? Perhaps I do have some super-powers after all (I think I mentioned this in a previous post). Well, low and behold, Bradley has figured it out.
Let's go back a few days....let's say Monday of last week. Jack and I were sitting outside playing and I felt what I thought was a mosquito bite. I ignored it. The next day, what looked to be an innocent mosquito bite turned into a very large welt, with surrounding rings of red. It's a spider bite that kept getting bigger and uglier.
A day later, while describing to Bradley how sounds were driving me crazy lately and how I planned to blog about it, he asked me to walk over to the wall. Looking at him with what he refers to as the "skeptical Anna" face, I went to the wall. He then asked me to put a hand on the wall. I complied. He then asked me to put my other hand on the wall. I started laughing and said, "Are you checking out my butt?" He said, "No. Just keep moving your hands, kind of like you are climbing the wall."
Brad then starts singing, "Spider-pumpkin*, spider-pumpkin, does whatever a spider-pumpkin can."
I kid you not. I respond, "You're a big dork" and swat at him with my superhero hand. So much for checking out my butt. Brad has effectively explained my sensitivity to sounds as a result of my newfound superhero spidey powers. My spider bite (now ten days out) is finally starting to go away.
Shhwip ~ (this is me flinging my web to sign off).
Spider-pumpkin
*If you didn't know, Brad calls me Pumpkin more than Anna. It's a big, ongoing joke. Everyone thinks its hilarious. In retaliation, I call him Squash. Go ahead, call him Squash too.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Public Health Alert: French Fries are Addictive
Jack and I now have a standing date for the MacArthur Center Kids Play Area. Once a week, after our time at the Y, we head over to the mall. Jack narrates on the drive over. Mall. Keedz. Areeah. Uh-huh. He follows this up with arms crossed sign and a emphatic "hummmph" (which means he loves it).
We had our usual fun in the kids area. It was a little irritating as there was two older boys, definitely over 42 inches, who planted their bottoms in the big pretend truck with a steering while. Jack stood there patiently, waiting for them to move. The one boy looks at me and says, "You're in our way. You need to move. I'm going to run you over." I just glared at him, trying to see if I really do have super powers. Nope. Nothing happened. We finally gave up and played on the tugboat instead.
After awhile, Jack tells me he is hungry by giving me the sign (he taps his mouth). I confirm by asking him and I get the usual, "Uh-huh." We head first for a diaper change and potty attempt. In the midst of changing Jack's diapers, Jack utters, "fresh fras." I look at him confused, "What are you trying to say?" Jack says, this time with more emphasis, "Fresh Fras." I think about it. Oh-no. French fries. The last time we came here, we ended with a snack of french fries. I have created a monster. I repeat it back in question form for confirmation, "french fries?"
Jack says: UUUhh-huhhhh...(arms cross, squeeze, requisite hmmmmmph), num num num (what Jack says when something is REALLY good).
From the mouth of the babe....french fries are good...num num num.
From the mouth of the mama....french fries are addictive. At least we held him off until now.
Anna Marie & Jack
We had our usual fun in the kids area. It was a little irritating as there was two older boys, definitely over 42 inches, who planted their bottoms in the big pretend truck with a steering while. Jack stood there patiently, waiting for them to move. The one boy looks at me and says, "You're in our way. You need to move. I'm going to run you over." I just glared at him, trying to see if I really do have super powers. Nope. Nothing happened. We finally gave up and played on the tugboat instead.
After awhile, Jack tells me he is hungry by giving me the sign (he taps his mouth). I confirm by asking him and I get the usual, "Uh-huh." We head first for a diaper change and potty attempt. In the midst of changing Jack's diapers, Jack utters, "fresh fras." I look at him confused, "What are you trying to say?" Jack says, this time with more emphasis, "Fresh Fras." I think about it. Oh-no. French fries. The last time we came here, we ended with a snack of french fries. I have created a monster. I repeat it back in question form for confirmation, "french fries?"
Jack says: UUUhh-huhhhh...(arms cross, squeeze, requisite hmmmmmph), num num num (what Jack says when something is REALLY good).
From the mouth of the babe....french fries are good...num num num.
From the mouth of the mama....french fries are addictive. At least we held him off until now.
Anna Marie & Jack
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Row, row, row your boat...
Today was a great day. Perfect start to any regular Tuesday morning. We started with kisses and hugs from a very handsome small Jack bear, who then was gracious enough to share his oatmeal with me, while we discussed the cinematic qualities of Elmo in Grouchland. We always do this, back and forth. I like the good guy, Elmo, while Jack feels empathy for the bad guy, Huxley. He's not so bad, Mama. He's just misunderstood (although it sounds more like this).
Anna: I like Elmo.
Jack: Go-guy. Hmmmmph (said while crossing his arms in an x over his heart...the sign for love).
Anna: You mean the bad guy Huxley?
Jack: No, go-guy (good guy). Cop-cop (translation = helicopter).
Anna: But he's mean. And he took Elmo's blanket.
Jack: Go-guy, cop-cop. Ya-ya (translation = Elmo). Hmmmph (loving them all).
Jack believes that people are essentially good.
I'd like to believe that too. Except for today. I believe I met the mean guy in the gym. Here I am, after lifting weights for an hour, ready to row for some cardio. I hop on my rowing machine and the old man next to me tells me it's broken. I have already attempted to start, but the chain is slack and rowing is impossible.
I move across the hallway to hop on another rower and I get started. When I row, the world disappears. I am plugged into my iPod and jamming out to whatever pops up next while I row, row, row my imaginary boat down my imaginary stream of mindless work. Today it was something like this: Stinkfist (Tool), Why Go (Pearl Jam), Some Devil (Dave Matthews), Bulls on Parade (Rage) and on and on. I was working it. So here I am, some 3500 meters downstream and 20 minutes of my life exercised away, when upon standing, the old man from earlier motions me over to him.
I walk, dripping sweat, legs tight from my rowing, over to where he only for him to look at me with a grimace on his face and say "You really need to learn how to row correctly, because that just did absolutely nothing for you. You're supposed to be working your legs, your abdominals, and you, you're working you arms and legs. Really, you need to learn the proper technique. You shouldn't be getting more than 30 rows per minute." [Meanwhile, I continue to drip sweat, obviously because the rowing I just did absolutely nothing for me.]
This is what the old man heard me say: "Oh, really. Hmmm. Okay. Thanks." [Anna walks away shaking her head in disbelief].
This is what the old man should have heard and might have heard if he had the ability to read minds:
Who the hell do you think you are, you old fart? I have NOT been rowing my ass off over there for some perv-old man who apparently isn't rowing, but instead watching me and counting how many rows I get per minute, to hear you decide it is your place and time to become a personal trainer. Suck it old man. I do know how to row and actually, I think you are doing it wrong. However, I know it is impolite to share fitness tips unless specifically requested. AND GUESS WHAT.... I DON'T REMEMBER ASKING YOUR ADVICE OR OPINION. I think you're just jealous. Bitch.
That's just how I row.
Anna Marie (and Jack and the Bradley have my back)
Anna: I like Elmo.
Jack: Go-guy. Hmmmmph (said while crossing his arms in an x over his heart...the sign for love).
Anna: You mean the bad guy Huxley?
Jack: No, go-guy (good guy). Cop-cop (translation = helicopter).
Anna: But he's mean. And he took Elmo's blanket.
Jack: Go-guy, cop-cop. Ya-ya (translation = Elmo). Hmmmph (loving them all).
Jack believes that people are essentially good.
I'd like to believe that too. Except for today. I believe I met the mean guy in the gym. Here I am, after lifting weights for an hour, ready to row for some cardio. I hop on my rowing machine and the old man next to me tells me it's broken. I have already attempted to start, but the chain is slack and rowing is impossible.
I move across the hallway to hop on another rower and I get started. When I row, the world disappears. I am plugged into my iPod and jamming out to whatever pops up next while I row, row, row my imaginary boat down my imaginary stream of mindless work. Today it was something like this: Stinkfist (Tool), Why Go (Pearl Jam), Some Devil (Dave Matthews), Bulls on Parade (Rage) and on and on. I was working it. So here I am, some 3500 meters downstream and 20 minutes of my life exercised away, when upon standing, the old man from earlier motions me over to him.
I walk, dripping sweat, legs tight from my rowing, over to where he only for him to look at me with a grimace on his face and say "You really need to learn how to row correctly, because that just did absolutely nothing for you. You're supposed to be working your legs, your abdominals, and you, you're working you arms and legs. Really, you need to learn the proper technique. You shouldn't be getting more than 30 rows per minute." [Meanwhile, I continue to drip sweat, obviously because the rowing I just did absolutely nothing for me.]
This is what the old man heard me say: "Oh, really. Hmmm. Okay. Thanks." [Anna walks away shaking her head in disbelief].
This is what the old man should have heard and might have heard if he had the ability to read minds:
Who the hell do you think you are, you old fart? I have NOT been rowing my ass off over there for some perv-old man who apparently isn't rowing, but instead watching me and counting how many rows I get per minute, to hear you decide it is your place and time to become a personal trainer. Suck it old man. I do know how to row and actually, I think you are doing it wrong. However, I know it is impolite to share fitness tips unless specifically requested. AND GUESS WHAT.... I DON'T REMEMBER ASKING YOUR ADVICE OR OPINION. I think you're just jealous. Bitch.
That's just how I row.
Anna Marie (and Jack and the Bradley have my back)
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