I am a couple of steps closer to thinking of Kailua as home, and it is a damn good feeling.

I spent two weeks on the mainland in June– two glorious weeks with family and friends in the Bay Area and Portland that made me wish more than once that I had extended my trip. Hey, I work from home; what’s stopping me from escaping reality for two months instead of two weeks? I could easily get used to going to movies at the Sebastiani Theatre with my parents, eating my mom’s home cooking, grabbing beers with my fantastic high school friends and San Francisco posse.

Painting the town red with the ‘Noma crew

It wouldn’t be a night out in SF without one of these pictures

It felt so comfortable and safe to go home, and I could have coasted through an entire summer in Sonoma. It was tempting, but I knew staying longer would just be an attempt at avoiding starting my life in my new home. I already have a strong support network in California that I can go back to whenever I want; I needed to start building a new one in Hawaii.

In the end, I came back to Kailua just in time for the long Fourth of July weekend, and I’m glad I did. That weekend was a turning point for me– a wonderful balance of outings with new friends and time alone to finish settling into our apartment. Since I got back, I’ve gone sailing in Kaneohe Bay, hosted the first dinner party in the new place (on the table I repainted myself… I’m awfully proud of it and will probably start carrying photos in my wallet) and attended a writers’ group in Honolulu. Life here is pretty good.

Sailing on the Fourth of July

I still have rough patches when I all I want to do is throw some clothes in a bag and fly to San Francisco or New Orleans or whatever port city Brian is in at the moment, but they’re not as frequent as they used to be. I have a mental list of healthy ways of coping with stress or homesickness or general unhappiness (for example, drinking a bottle of Jim Beam and sobbing over the “Army Wives” marathon would not qualify) that I pull from when needed, but I decided to write them out into a physical list. I started this as a project for a friend going through a break-up, and I’ve been expanding it gradually. I’d love to hear more ideas from everyone else.

1. Connecting with my people back home.

After my last post, I received an outpouring of supportive comments and IMs and emails and phone calls from friends and family far away, and I was reminded again just how lucky I am to have these relationships and how important it is to maintain them. The little connections throughout the day– Facebook wall posts, Twitter replies and Google chats (can you tell I work for a Web site?)– keep me sane. The bigger ones– emails, phone calls and, my favorite, video Skype chats– make me bow down and give thanks to the Internet gods. Because of Skype’s magic, I can show Melia in Jackson how we’ve decorated the new apartment and have a good old-fashioned sobfest with Kaila and Jenna in New Orleans.

2. Spending time with new friends.

This transition would have been much harder if I hadn’t met some awesome people right off the bat through Brian’s ship and the few friends we already had here. They have been nothing but welcoming, and it’s pretty amazing to have fun, like-minded friends who are always up for an afternoon at the beach or a night of pizza and sangria.

3. Exercising.

This one doesn’t always happen as much as it should, but getting my heart rate up is the easiest way for me to stop feeling crazy (remember that logic from “Legally Blonde”? “Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people just don’t shoot their husbands.” Word, Elle.). If I go for a swim or a walk at the beach or punch out my aggression with Billy Blanks in Tae-Bo, everything seems a little more manageable.

4. Taking a class or picking up a new hobby.

In the past, I’ve tried to be flexible enough for yoga and responsible enough for financial planning (neither is an easy task for me). Now I’m trying to learn a few chords on the guitar and searching for the right halau to start up hula after an eight-year hiatus. I find the challenge of learning something new, especially something a little difficult for me, is a good way to keep my mind occupied.

5. Doing something creative.

I’m not quite at the point where I use pinking shears and puffy paints for scrapbooking projects, but I do turn to writing and photography and ReadyMade-style decorating when I need a creative outlet. Making something from scratch, even if it’s not a work of art, is cathartic.

6. Exploring.

No matter how homesick I get, I can take comfort in the fact that I keep moving to really cool places. Bottom line: I live in Hawaii and there is no shortage of places to explore. Beaches, art galleries, hiking trails, farmers’ markets, restaurants, dive bars… I’ve got my work cut out for me.

I’ve been having a hard time lately getting myself to sit down and sort through the crazy, frazzled mess that is my brain and somehow translate those thoughts into coherent, entertaining blog posts. I guess I haven’t posted anything in a few weeks because I just don’t feel like being entertaining. I feel like I’m just coming down from a massive high– months of packing and unpacking and moving and briefly landing and moving again– and I don’t quite know what to do with myself now that the dust has settled.

Brian and I finally made it to Hawaii; we have an apartment and a deck full of plants and a list of plans for our new island existence. I should be ecstatic to start our new life here (what better place to begin a marriage?) and I am; the problem is that I’m in newlywed honeymoon bliss… by myself. For some reason, champagne breakfast in bed in paradise seems a lot less romantic and a lot more alcoholic when you do it alone.

After a record seven and a half months in the same place, Brian and I are separated by a few continents and bodies of water again. He left on June 4 to meet his ship on deployment in Asia, and I’ve been struggling to settle into our new place and into the concept of being alone for the first time in awhile. I keep thinking every time we do this that it will get easier and that I’ll somehow magically be composed and reasonable when saying goodbye, instead of the sobbing mess clinging to Brian at the airport security line. Logically, I know that three months is a ridiculously easy deployment compared to the six or nine straight months apart we’ve endured in the past. But my emotions aren’t logical and here I am again, feeling crazy.

I get frustrated with myself because I’m not one of those girls who can’t stand to be alone. I tell myself that I’m independent, that I’m capable, that I don’t need to depend on anyone else for my own happiness. Each time we go through a long separation, I try to prove this in one of two extremes: excessive solitude or obsessive overscheduling.

When I lived in France, I spent the vast majority of my time alone. I lived by myself, I passed the hours reading or watching trashy French TV, I hibernated in my tiny apartment to escape the mind-numbing cold. I had a few good friends who kept me from being a total hermit, but, in retrospect, I was probably a little withdrawn and depressed. When I lived in San Francisco, I tried the opposite approach and threw myself into work and socializing as if I would die if I stopped to catch my breath. I scheduled every minute of the day with dinners and happy hours and shopping dates because if I stayed busy, I wouldn’t have to think about any of those pesky emotions. This strategy clearly didn’t work either since I cried more during that year than in any other time in my life.

This time, I’m trying something new. I’m admitting that it’s OK to be sad and miss Brian when he’s halfway around the globe and that it’s OK to have a breakdown or two because I’m living several thousand miles away from the people who are most important to me. It’s OK, and I don’t have to be fine all the time. Huge, life-disrupting changes are painful, even when they result in living in Hawaii.

I used to be afraid of losing myself in a relationship, because needing someone else was equivalent to giving up my identity and becoming a clingy, needy, desperate girl who can’t cut it on her own. I don’t believe that anymore. I need a lot of people in my life. I need my family and my friends and, yes, I also need Brian. We depend on each other to brave the challenges and to celebrate the victories in this crazy world, and I am lucky to have a partner in crime who is in it for the long haul. I know I can survive on my own, but I am choosing to build a life with someone else. And, in the sage words of “When Harry Met Sally,” “When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

It’s official. Brian and I live in Hawaii, and so do all our worldly possessions. After being in limbo for so many months and shuttling from one end of the country every few weeks, it is such a relief to be here. And plan to stay here. Well, I will stay here; Brian ships off for Southeast Asia next week for the last half of his ship’s deployment.

It’s bittersweet, finally arriving in our much-anticipated new home and then having to be separated again, but we’re making the most of the two weeks we have together. And by “making the most” of it, I mean, spending far too much money on closet organizers and home electronics and trying not to be crushed in our sleep by the walls of boxes surrounding us.

Terrifying, isn’t it?

It’s a little overwhelming to unpack and organize tons (literally; the moving guys told me our stuff weighed 4,600 lbs.) of clothes and papers and kitchen gadgets, but I can’t complain. We live in Hawaii. I don’t know if I get to complain ever again (who am I kidding? I totally will, but I’ll have a better view while I’m whining).

Yesterday when I got off work, we drank a beer, walked to Kailua Beach (15 minutes from our apartment), swam laps in 80-degree water and ate risotto at the Italian restaurant around the corner. Somehow, I think we’ll be able to deal with a little manual labor.

I’ll give a more extensive update later, but here are our first few days via my Twitter soundbites:

We made it to Hawaii! Slept like bebes on the couch cushions that make up our bed till our furniture arrives. Errands and painting today.

I have never been more excited to go hardware and houseware shopping. If we can find chalkboard paint today, I’ll be a happy girl.

We just bought basil, rosemary & tomato plants, green bean and chili pepper seeds & a compost bin. I am determined to grow a green thumb.

Mmm… in desperate need of beer and burgers. Goin’ over to meet some folks at Matt and Heather’s place.

Walking to Kailua Beach to test out the waters. Loving this weekend.

Screw the gym. I am going to swim in the ocean every day for as long as we live here. I’m not even fazed by the jellyfish sting on my arm.

Crashing after a long day of spending too much money and drinking too much wine.

Really, previous renter? Lime green contact paper? For shame.

Tired and content after a long day of unpacking and an incredible dinner at the Japanese place around the corner.

There is something seriously wrong when the Internet I’m stealing from my neighbors works and the one I’m paying for doesn’t.

So I guess Kailua is on a New Orleans schedule for afternoon rain every day at 3:00. No thunder so far, though.

Rocking out to some Amos Lee and getting super excited for the concert in Honolulu tomorrow! And drinking a lot of coffee.

The screaming baby upstairs is serving as extra birth control in case I needed it.

It’s only 10 a.m. and I already want a beer. It’s after noon almost everywhere else.

Pandora isn’t loading well today, so I’m streaming Bay Area radio. KFOG and Alice @ 97.3. Sounds like home.

Afternoon rain, I love you. Thank you for saving the lives of my plants. They really appreciate it.

Poor Dahlgren. This place already gets such a bad rap with the Navy folks that I feel like I’m kicking a lame puppy every time I mock it. I may have been too harsh when I called it “the armpit of the East Coast.” Yes, it is in the middle of frickin’ nowhere, 45 minutes away from civilization or a decent meal, but on the whole, Dahlgren has actually been pretty good to us.

Dinner in Colonial Beach

I’ll admit I’ve had some low moments where I desperately miss friends and family and basic social interaction, but they usually pass pretty quickly. Life is simple and pleasant here most of the time, and I decided to make a list of things I like about our Dahlgren existence so I can refer to it whenever I’m feeling like Debbie Downer.

1. Quality Time

Brian and I get two whole months together in the same place before our next forced separation, which is a huge deal. A week or two after we arrive in Hawaii, he’ll have to fly out to meet his ship for the last three months of its deployment. I’m determined to appreciate this time, because in another month, I will be longing for more evenings watching “NCIS” reruns together.

Oh no! That’s not Brian. I swear he’s just a friend. 

Check out our fancy digs: the office/living room/dining room

The first time we’ve gotten to unpack our suitcases in months

2.  Reunions

We have gotten to see so many of our friends and family members over the last few weeks. We spent Easter with Brian’s family and a few friends in Fairfax, went out with the crazy Woodson High gang in Arlington, camped and brewery toured with our favorite New Jerseyites in Rehoboth Beach, dined with Brian’s war buddy in Richmond, caught up with my grandparents in Laurel and tore up D.C. with old friends from both coasts. It’s rare that I get to spend this much time on the East Coast, and it’s a pretty incredible opportunity to see everyone before we take off again.

Getting into trouble with the Fairfax kids

Uncle Brian with two of his cutie-pie nephews

Aw, Lil Lisa sleeping off her Easter food coma

Yay, puzzles are fun!

We’re in Delaware

A-mazing camp breakfast of bacon, eggs and more bacon

California girls are a force to be reckoned with

Cynthia and Stu putting “Dancing With the Stars” to shame

Mini Camp RAD reunion!

3. Dinners

Sometimes I miss having dozens of options of where to eat, drink and be merry, but sometimes it’s nice to narrow those options. And when I say “narrow down,” I mean “eliminate.” There is no fabulous sushi restaurant down the road and no Reginelli’s to deliver take-out here, so we are forced to cook our own well-balanced meals like responsible adults. We have only two burners and a microwave, but we have managed to cook some pretty fabulous dinners: gnocchi with healthy-ish alfredo sauce and veggies, Spanish tortilla, shrimp stir-fry, even some Zatarain’s gumbo. Often our friends Heather and Amy join us, we open a bottle of wine and we make a party out of it.

Our luxurious kitchen 

Mmmm… tortilla

4. Books

Wait, what are these “books” you speak of? You mean the ones with the pages? That aren’t on a screen? I read and write things for a living, and I am ashamed to admit how infrequently I pick up an actual book these days. Since I have so little to do in the evenings here, I have had a lot more time and motivation to read. I picked up a stack of novels and short stories from the itty-bitty library on base, and I’ve been reading a few chapters every night. I’m almost done with “Tender is the Night” (partially inspired by the time Fitzgerald spent in Antibes Juan-les-Pins, where I went last October) and the second half of “Eat, Pray, Love” is next on my list. Reading feels like such a luxury after depriving myself for so long, and I am loving the indulgence.

Moral of the story: I’m pretty happy here; with the right people, some good food and a little bit of red wine, you can make anywhere fun.

I had the honor of receiving my very first Navy memo (sorry, sorry, “all hands bulletin” in non-civilian speak) today. Unlike in the movies or on “NCIS,” it was not a curt, official statement full of acronyms. It was actually a longwinded, passive-aggressive scolding that made me think I might lose my allowance money if I don’t shape up and stop using headphones on base.

No iPod for you

A little background: we’re staying in the middle of nowhere, or a naval base in Dahlgren, Virginia, for two months while Brian learns about fascinating Navy things. Where is Dahlgren, you ask? I have no idea, but its hot spots include an Arby’s, a Burger King and a Food Lion. That’s if you can get off base. We have no car here, so we are limited to the simple pleasures of cooking dinner on our two-burner stove and catching up on our Netflix queue.

It’s nice in some ways to get back to basics, but it can also drive me a little stir-crazy. I work from a hotel room for eight hours a day and then spend most of the evening in the same room, so the only thing I want to do at 5 p.m. is take a nice long walk with my iPod so I can drink in the scenery and catch up with my friends at “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me.”

The first time I did this on base, a soccer mom in a minivan destroyed my serenity by flagging me down to tell me (not very nicely, I might add), “You can’t do that here.” Do what? Walk? Listen to commie NPR podcasts? Ohhh, use headphones while walking. I wanted to explain to her that I have evolved enough to master walking/talking/listening/chewing gum all at the same time. Brian and I made a few calls around base, but no one could back up this woman’s claim, so I continued to defy her silly rule.

And then we got this delivered to our door:

*** ALL HANDS BULLETIN *** Please distribute widely ***

WALKING OR RUNNING WITH HEADPHONES/EARPIECES IS PROHIBITED

While running can certainly help improve your health, running while using headphones/earpieces can be equally hazardous to it. With the onset of Spring comes the walkers, runners and bicyclists on roadways or on routes that cross roadways. Who doesn’t like listening to their favorite tunes while being outdoors and enjoying these recreations?

Effective immediately, please be reminded that all tunes will need to be sung or whistled by you because headphones/earpieces are NOT allowed on board any Naval Support Activity South Potomac installation, to include Naval Support Facility (NSF) Dahlgren and NSF Indian Head. The only exception is on trails such as the Railroad Trail, around the football field at Indian Head or the loop behind the gym at Dahlgren – in essence, trails that are closed off from and not adjacent to open roadways. This change was necessitated by the folks that continue to wear headphones while walking/jogging on open roads and on accesses that cross them.

Headphones can distract people from what they’re doing. They mask the direction of sound so that you may not be aware of vehicles beeping or coming up behind you. While base employees and residents were previously allowed to use headphones while walking or jogging on sidewalks, it’s become apparent that they are not being taken off when running on the roadways where  there are no sidewalks at all.

Walkers or joggers found using headphones in areas other than those permitted above will be stopped by Security and asked to remove the headphones. Names of offenders will be forwarded to their command. Repeat offenders could be subject to a range of options from being given a ticket to having on-base driving privileges revoked.

The real punishment, though, often isn’t handed down by Security. While accidents involving headphones do not happen often, the consequences of just one can be devastating. Is this really worth the risk?

R,
CAPT Catie Hanft, USN
Commanding Officer
Naval Support Activity South Potomac

My favorite lines are: “Who doesn’t like listening to their favorite tunes while being outdoors and enjoying these recreations?” and “Names of offenders will be forwarded to their command.” A nice blend of “Hey, I’m cool, I’m with it” and “Haha, suckas, I don’t care!” So does that mean Brian is my command? Will he revoke my privileges if I repeat the offense?

Photo courtesy of Foxtongue’s Flickr photostream

Way back in August, Chuck got me hooked on a brilliantly simple Tumblr blog called 1001 rules for my unborn son. Its tagline is “Let’s get some things straight before I get old and uncool,” and it contains some of the best and funniest advice I’ve found. I have always intended to keep a list of things I want to remember once I’m a parent, but I like this spin on it, too.

With my own awesome parents

I started my own list after Katie Ide inspired me with her “10 rules” for her “really, incredibly unborn child,” but it has been sitting neglected on my desktop since this summer. Thank you, Nicole, for reminding me of its existence. It’s a good exercise to try to wrap up your own values and beliefs into little bite-sized pieces. Here’s the first installment; I’ll try to add to it in 10-item increments as the fancy strikes me.

Oh, and by the way, this does not mean that we are planning on hearing the pitter patter of little feet any time soon. So please don’t ask me. As my friend Heather so wisely puts it, “It is rude to ask a woman when and if she is planning on having children because you don’t know a thing about her. That being said, if you ask me, I might cut you. Also, don’t ever tell me to relax. Because if you do, I just might ask you how easy it is to relax while I am hurling my fist at your jaw bone.” There is no way I can improve upon that.

Rules for My Future Children: #1-10

1. Learn to speak a second language well enough to swear comfortably. Live in a country where it’s spoken long enough to know your grocer or bartender by name.

2. Keep a journal, especially during your hardest and happiest times. It will be cathartic to write and entertaining to look back on.

3. Love cooking as much as you love eating (if you’re my child, you’ll have no problem with the latter). Don’t fear vegetables, spices or seafood.

4. Take lots of pictures and make sure you’re in some of them. Recognize that you are damn good looking.

5. Don’t let your peers dictate your timeline. Life is way too short to live by other people’s expectations.

6. Listen to your instincts when it comes to love. Be open but not careless. You’ll know when you find someone who brings out the best version of you (you’ll also know when you’re dating a tool).

7. Do something active every day—make exercise a necessity and not a chore. When in doubt, walk there.

8. Read newspapers, novels and non-fiction regularly. Indulge in Us Weekly occasionally.

9. Know how to drive a stick shift, throw an impromptu party and type with your fingers on the right keys. These are all skills that will serve you well.

10. Surround yourself with positive people. Real friends will support your crazy ideas and smack some sense into you when you’re thinking of quitting.

I have a confession to make: I have been looking forward to changing my name since I was a little girl… well, at least since kids in my class discovered that my last name contained a four-letter word and was therefore worthy of mockery. So around sixth grade. Junior high is not kind to the Dickers of the world.

As I’ve gotten older, tougher and wiser, I have embraced my family’s name and have become unfazed by any jokes people may throw my way. There is a long, fine line of Dickers before me, and I am proud to be part of that lineage. I’m sorry, are you giggling? Did I say something funny?

We will always be the Sisters Dicker

For the last few years, I’ve gone back and forth on whether I would change my name or not after I got married. The independent feminist in me said I should keep my maiden name to show I am still my own person with or without my husband. The family-oriented part of me wanted me to hyphenate or take my husband’s name to show unity between us and to make things easier for when we have kids someday.

Well, it turns out I don’t really like the way “Dicker-Burgess” or “Burdicker” or “Dickurgess” sounds. Plus, DMV employees already get testy with me for having a super long name. If I became Gillian Elena Mei Po Dicker-Burgess, they might kill me with their angry, soulless eyes. I decided to make the full change to become a Burgess.

I went to the Social Security Administration and the DMV last week to change my name officially, and I got a lot more emotional about it than I thought I would. I’ve had this name for 25 years, and it has served me well. Brian came with me to both places, waiting patiently and holding my hand in depressing, crowded, fluorescent-lit offices. We went out to lunch to celebrate after Social Security legitimized my new identity as Gillian Burgess. As we toasted over Karl Strauss beers, I told my husband that I’m happy I did it. And I meant it.

Welcome to the Burgi

Changing my name was a hard personal decision, one I thought about a lot before I took the plunge. If I was surprised by my strong emotions on the matter, I was even more surprised by the stronger reactions I received from friends, acquaintances and even total strangers (beyond the expected “wow, it’s going to be awhile before I get used to your new name”).

A few:

• It’s archaic to take the man’s last name and you should keep yours.
• You should definitely hyphenate.
• I think it’s nice when the woman goes the traditional route and takes her husband’s name.
• I’m going to change my name, too, when I get married.
• I would never change my name.
• You’re a terrible feminist and you might as well kiss your freedom goodbye because you are now your husband’s property.

Maybe that last one was more implied than stated outright, but I can read between the lines.

I respect everyone’s opinions, but this experience made it very clear to me that a decision that is good for one woman is not necessarily good for every woman. Taking a new last name or not, having children or not, being a stay-at-home mom or a working mom, traveling the world or settling down and buying a house, all the gray area in between– these are all choices we get to make as individuals. No one can make them for us. And that’s what both thrills and terrifies me about being a woman.

Coming soon… The Name Game, Part II: A How-To Guide to the Tedious, Obnoxious Process of Changing Your Name

I have a habit of going through periods of extreme, massive and sometimes violent change. I don’t, for example, just start a new job or move to a new apartment. Oh, no. That would be too easy. I go, what my friend Gene would call, “balls to the wall” when I shake things up in my life.

Around Christmas a year ago, I got laid off from one job, started a new one, moved from California back to New Orleans, found out that Brian was being deployed to Iraq, went through a number of emotional breakdowns and got engaged… all within a month. This is just how I roll.

OMG, what happened? Where did these rings come from and why am I wearing a blanket with sleeves?

Right now is another one of those times where everything is changing, and I just have to embrace the madness or go mad myself. First step toward sanity: going back home and burning things with my sister. Yep, that’s right. Melia and I have both been moving all over the country, yet we still have boxes and binders and bookcases of old memories left at our parents’ house in Sonoma. Every time I go home, I say I am going to get rid of things I no longer need, but I always find an excuse to put it off to a later visit.

Didn’t get to paint over the hot air balloons this time, but the Sarah McLachlan and Austin Powers posters did come down

Well, it’s finally time. If I’m really going to make the transition into adulthood and marriage, I don’t want to be tied down by pieces of my past I just don’t feel like dealing with.

Signs of progress: cleaning out shelves full of books, photo albums and knickknacks

Melia and I both came home the same week, and we formed a moral support group of two, spending our evenings deciding the fate of stacks of photos and papers and books. I was amazed by what I had kept for the last 10 or 20 years. Why did I hang on to letters that remind me of a time I’d rather forget? Did I really think my high school English paper on “The Kitchen God’s Wife” was worth saving to show my future children? I don’t even like Amy Tan!

We decided a ritual bonfire was the right way for us to let go of the past and move forward. We gathered together the bags and bags of papers we wanted to burn (sadly, photos had to be disposed of another way) and lit a match in the fireplace. In went Melia’s identity as a nonprofit workaholic: Rolodexes, curriculum plans, workshop notes. In went my reminders of being a reserved and over-achieving teenager.

Burn, baby, burn

With every stack, it got a little easier. Notes from my junior high BFFs, angsty teen poetry, senior project writing assignments, college term papers. I watched them all go up in flames, and it was glorious. Let me tell you, there is nothing more freeing than burning your SAT scores.

Anyone who has ever had to write a “dialectical journal” will know the satisfaction I got from burning one

Melia wrote a blog post about our fire, and she captured very eloquently how I felt about our ritual:

Burning the written documentation of your past is much, much more cleansing than dumping it in the recycling bin, or even shredding it. When the flames consume the pages that symbolize your past, your former self and relationships instantly cease to exist. What remains is nothing, and it forces you to relate to people — your best friend from middle school, or your enemy, for that matter — in a completely new way instead of clinging to how things used to be.

I am very different than I was at age 15 or even 20 (thank goodness), and it was a huge relief to erase my old expectations and make a fresh start. The way I celebrate a fresh start is by breaking open a bottle of red wine… and making a new list. Borderline alcoholic, maybe. More-than-slightly nerdy, definitely. But this is a good list, not my normal “holy Christ, I have so much to do and will never finish it all” list. This will be an ongoing fun list…

Fresh Start List #1: A Few Goals for the Near Future

1. Go to Central America and learn Spanish

I love traveling, and it has been far too long since I’ve gone on a down-and-dirty, fit-everything-in-a-backpack, shower-every-now-and-then trip. Summer 2005, to be exact, when Jenna and I took over the Greek Isles. I have always wanted to go to Costa Rica, Guatemala, Honduras, you name it. I loved Panama when Brian and I went there on our honeymoon, but I hated not being able to communicate beyond my toddler’s vocabulary of “hello” and “thank you” and “I have hunger.” I want to learn Spanish, and I’m comfortable enough with French now that I’m ready to tackle a new language. This summer, I am determined to go on a Central American extravaganza with my girl Angie. Our plan is to go to language school for a few weeks, then spend another month traveling from country to country on buses full of chickens while practicing our new skillz.

September 2005: Jenna has a “Titanic” moment on the ferry from Greece to Italy

2. Take the plunge on new projects

I have a million ideas a-brewin’ in my head at any given moment– business ideas, freelance writing ideas, home decorating ideas, costume party ideas– but a lot of them don’t go anywhere. I get so overwhelmed by wanting to do something perfectly that I never actually do it at all. That needs to stop. If I want to try to build a Web site (or a bookcase or a magazine) from scratch, dammit, I need to give it a shot. The worst that could happen is that it won’t be perfect and that I’ll learn something from the process.

3. Do more things every day that make me happy

I consider myself a fairly happy person. Sure, I stress out over things more than I should sometimes, but when I get carried away, I try to take a step back and keep it all in perspective. Lately, though, I’ve been working too much, working out too little and not making time for a lot of activities that make me really happy. Dancing. Cooking. Swimming. Watching movies. Taking pictures. Speaking French. Writing for fun. The best New Year’s resolution I ever made was freshman year of college when I vowed to go dancing at least once a week. I kept it up until the end of the school year (longer than any other resolution I’ve ever made), and I couldn’t have been happier doing it. I’m making a resolution to make more of these resolutions.

French Quarter Fest 2008: Dancing in the streets with my sis

For the first month or so after we got married, Brian and I had a habit of elbowing each other and saying, “Hey, you know what?… We’re married.” The novelty of that hasn’t quite worn off, but now we’ve moved on to a new catchphrase: “Hey, you know what? We live here.”

We are officially residents of Kailua, Hawaii. We signed the lease on our place last week and have been just tickled pink with it (one of us is pinker than the other).

Sometimes we just need to lie on the living room floor and love our new apartment

After more than a year of separations, cross-country/cross-continent moves and stints of living out of a suitcase, we are finally going to have a real home. Together. I won’t even know what to do with all that time I used to spend pining. Some ideas:

1. Painting our awesome apartment
2. Refurbishing furniture and being generally crafty with decorating
3. Using every single kitchen gadget, utensil and dish we got for our wedding
4. Planting vegetables and herbs in boxes on the lanai and trying not to kill them (this is where Brian comes in)
5. Grilling every kind of fish and crustacean we can get our hands on (our first culinary experiment with shark went swimmingly… tee hee)
6. Becoming masters of urban composting
7. Finally printing, framing and hanging photos of our friends and family from the last five years
8. Turning our second bedroom into a sweet-tastic office, silkscreening studio and guest room

Oh, you want to see photos of where you’ll be staying when you come visit? If you insist.

Front door: Soon our New Orleans flag will be proudly waving there 

Kitchen: Flat-top range and a dishwasher? Could life get any better?

Living room/dining room: Where our dining table, sectional sofa and future flat-screen TV (the first TV I will have ever bought myself after years of using hand-me-downs) will reside

Living room looking out onto the lanai: We’ll be leaving that door open a lot to let in the ocean breeze

Lanai: Brian contemplates where the grill and the hammock will go

Master bedroom: Large closet and a door out onto the lanai

Master bathroom: It’s not huge, but it has two sinks, so I am stoked

Since we found the place so early in our week-long stay, we decided to get a jump-start on painting before our furniture arrives. We discovered there is a Hardware Hawaii just down the street from us (a fact that made Brian downright giddy), so we picked out some colors, bought supplies and got to work. Gray-blue for the master bedroom, warm cream for most of the living room and kitchen and dark red for two small accent walls in the living room. We’re still accepting suggestions for the bathrooms, the hallway and the office.

I am an artiste 

I graciously allow Brian to do the meticulous ceiling work

It looks as though a terrible crime were committed in our living room

Awesome! Our landlady was a little skeptical of the red, but she relented, saying red is a “good Chinese color”… and then later asking us if we will paint over it before we move

The finished product in the living room (and our new sofa in boxes)

This is what the sofa will look like when it’s put together…oooh (minus the pillows)

Look at that beautiful masking…

Victory! Our first meal in our new place, courtesy of Chef Papa John

“So how’s married life?”

This is a question Brian and I seem to be getting a lot, and I’m not sure how to answer it yet. I’m pretty sure, “Oh, you know, we lived with a college buddy of ours in New Orleans for the first month of being married and then drove our stuff 2,000 miles to spend a month in San Diego before going to Virginia for two months and then moving to Hawaii. Just your standard newlywed couple stuff… I won’t bore you with the details,” is not exactly what normal people say. But then, when have we ever been normal?

It was Mardi Gras. Mustaches and silly hats are almost required. 

We’re going through some pretty major life changes right now, so I guess it’s fitting that No Dowry is going to evolve right along with us. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and although I started this blog to record the journey of planning a wedding without selling my soul or my firstborn, I’d like to think our wedding day won’t be the happiest day of our lives and that this is just the beginning of the journey.

I have loved keeping this blog over the course of the last year. It’s an amazing way for me to process what’s going on in my life and keep in touch with everyone from Lil Laverne (hi, Mom) to friends scattered across the country. I hope y’all have enjoyed reading and will continue to follow my shenanigans as a, ahem, Navy wife (yeah, yeah, laugh it up).

The Short Version of What’s Going On

1. Gypsy Travels: Leaving the South

If I haven’t told you my new mailing address, it’s because I don’t have one yet. We left New Orleans on Friday, February 27 and drove like crazy to make it to San Diego late on Sunday, March 1. It wasn’t the most relaxing road trip we’ve ever taken, but it also didn’t result in a flipped car and a trip to the ER, so I count it as a victory (read more about the trip in Brian’s blog).

It was unbelievably hard to leave our friends and New Orleans again. We keep leaving (this is the third time I’ve moved away) and we keep coming back, and dammit, the next time we move back, it’s for good. There are a lot of amazing places to live, and we’ve been fortunate enough to have tried out a good number of them, but everywhere we go, we compare it to New Orleans. No place has the food, the drinks, the people or the culture quite right in comparison, and we can’t think of anywhere else we want to settle down. You’d better believe we’ll be invading the Dirty South again in a few years, buying a kickass house with a big porch and a roomy yard for crawfish boils and eventually raising a couple of loud, crafty, costume-party-loving hapa kids.

Breakin’ it down in the S. Liberty house for our going-away/Rubik’s cube party

2. Gypsy Travels: Moving to Hawaii

Until we move back to NOLA, I am stoked to live in Hawaii. Brian transfers to a new ship based in Pearl Harbor in May, and we are on Oahu right now house hunting. My mom was born here, her parents and their parents grew up here, and we have tons of aunties and uncles and cousins scattered throughout the islands. I have wanted to live here since I was a little girl, and the Navy, in a strange, out-of-character move, has granted my wish. I will spend the next year and a half picking up hula again and spending as much time as I can swimming in the Pacific.

Where we’re staying at the moment (Bellows Air Force Base): the view out the back window…

…and the front

We arrived on Friday, looked at a bunch of apartments right away and found the perfect one on our second day. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a big lanai (which we’ve learned is a back porch/balcony area) where we can grill and grow vegetables, tons of storage space and our trifecta of perfection: dishwasher, washer and dryer. It’s also in the center of Kailua, within walking distance of coffee shops, restaurants, bars, grocery stores and the beach. Oh, and a karaoke bar. We already checked it out, and though it did not have “The Humpty Dance,” it did provide “Shoop,” “Baby Got Back” and “Bust a Move.” Sold.

Our friend Heather and I made Salt ‘n’ Pepa proud

We got the apartment almost solely because I am hapa and remind our landlady of her daughter (this is the second time my hapaness has gotten me an apartment– Melia and I shamelessly milked it in San Francisco when we discovered our property manager had a half-Japanese son) and because Brian is an adorable Navy boy who can charm any Chinese auntie.

The complex where we will be living has a KOI POND… for serious

This is going to be sweet.

3. Being a Navy Housewife

OK, not a housewife. I’m taking my sweet Interweb-based job with me so I can continue to work from home, God willing, but we are getting pretty darn domestic. I am positively giddy at the thought of using all of the awesome kitchen toys we got as wedding presents (Salad spinner? Pastry blender? KitchenAid mixer?!), and we’re already planning on going all ReadyMade on our new place. The words “aluminum-lined planter boxes” may or may not have come up in conversation. We might have to give in and buy a Wii, if only to remind ourselves that we are not too old to trash-talk while duking it out on Mario Cart.

Brian hearts mattress shopping

This is all new territory, and it’s a little scary, but mostly just exciting. We’re almost real grown ups! (Bob keeps telling me that if I use the term “grown up,” I am not one yet. Whatever.) I’ll post pictures of our new place later this week, which I hope will inspire you to come visit as soon as possible. Those mai tais aren’t going to drink themselves, people.