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VAL'S WORLD

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There’s something to be said about deployments. They give my hubby and me an excuse to travel. We’ve done more traveling in these past few years than we ever have. This is one of my most memorable. Oh sure, Hawaii was great, but this was, well, interesting….

It all started in the airport…

I DO love to travel, but the whole “getting there” thing is kind of a terriflying (yes, terriFLYING) experience for me. I’m not a good flyer-at all. Well, that’s not true, I’m a good flyer if they have a good bartender on board. Otherwise, forget it. Anyhoo, I get to the airport nice and early because I panic if I have to rush. Not because I’m afraid I’ll miss my plane, but afraid that I’ll miss that cocktail that will give me the actual courage to get on the plane. So I’m there a good two hours before takeoff (my dad’s words of wisdom, “ALWAYS GET TO THE AIRPORT TWO HOURS AHEAD OF TIME NO MATTER WHAT.”) Now I know why….

Going to the airport is always quite the ordeal. No matter HOW early you get there…

I pull into the expensive, close parking ramp and manage to drop my debit card out the window as I was sliding the card in the EZ park thing. I had to shimmy out of my car because I was wedged in the teeny tiny lane of the airport parking ramp. My door would barely open, making people behind me wait as I squeezed out to look underneath the car for the stupid card. Then, I get back in and carry on like I totally meant to do that. That was just the beginning.

There’s the tram to the terminal (which really only moved me about a 100 feet, so I didn’t really get the point), the trying to look cool on the escalator while lugging a 49 lb suitcase behind me (which always seems to end up on two steps, so I’m trying to balance it and not fall over, while praying that the dumb wheel won’t get caught at the top step when I try to time the perfect, graceful exit off of the escalator). Then, it is on to figure out the self-serve check-in kiosk, because Lord knows, the agents WILL NOT help out anymore-they just point and grunt. Next, I go through security with no shoes, no belt, no dignity and being tapped down, or felt up by a security lady (at least she said she was a security lady) because I have on a “bulky” sweatshirt and no bra. I race to check out where my gate is so I can, well, just see where my gate is. I watch the meltdown of small toddlers and their parents unfold and quickly realize that no one is excited about traveling with toddlers (now I know why that announcement constantly says “Do Not Leave Your Bag Unattended.” It’s because parents will put their toddlers in YOUR bag, then you are stuck with them. FINALLY, I spot that wonderful little thing called the Airport Bar, or Pub, or Bistro-whatever they want to call it. It’s where you can get a beer and some cold fries for $27.00 and it will be the best $27.00 you ever spend.

So I go to said establishment and order myself a super-sized beer and sit back and relax. Ahhh. The one bar you can go to alone and not feel like a loser. Everyone is there for the same reason. They going on a fabulous vacation, are afraid to fly, are about to embark on a dreadful business trip, heading to a funeral, a wedding, OR, maybe just hanging out for no reason because they are alone and don’t want to feel like a loser.

But I did take some notes while bellied up to the bar. NOBODY was actually ALONE. EVERYONE, and I mean EVERYONE, had with them a laptop, a Blackberry/IPhone type device, or a fancy cell phone. The fingers were flying and even those that weren’t alone had something they were typing/texting/twittering away on. Except for the old lady sitting in a booth behind me. She had a book. Pretty sure she wasn’t reading it though. Nobody brings books to bars. They are just a cover for listening in on some gossip and perhaps getting some writing material. Been there, done that. I must admit I did my share of texting and twittering. I didn’t want to look like a loser.

Mission accomplished, I got my courage to board the plane and head to Seattle to the land of the Gnome home and see my dear husband, whom I haven’t seen in two months. I was nervous, excited, giddy, and ready to tell my soldier to put on his wooden shoes and pointy hat because he would be staying here:

After two wonderful nights in the chilly, rainy, windy city of Seattle and a great visit with Kent’s Aunt and cousins (thank you!), we hopped (drove) onto a ferry and headed to our fantasyland on Orcas Island. The Island is beautiful and reminded Kent of Germany and me of Wisconsin. Once in a while, we’d catch a glimpse of Hawaii, but then were quickly reminded where we were when the rain pelted our faces. There is only one road that goes completely around the island (very quickly), one local watering hole (found it), a few very cute restaurants and shops, a beautiful mountain that was pretty high (the details escape me and I’m too lazy to Google it.)

We went whale watching (which is just that…watching. No petting or feeding or riding). That was very awesome and cold. There were just six of us on a boat with the Captain and a naturalist (not a nudist, but a marine-biologist. Maybe a nudist too).

Then we get to the Gnome Home. Darling on the outside. Adam’s Family-like on the inside. Oh it’s fine if you don’t mind cobwebs that Tarzan could swing on and a bird’s nest. A BIRD’S NEST. Kent assured me “honey, it’s okay, there’s nothing in it”. IT’S A BIRD’S NEST. IN THE CORNER. OF A GNOME HOME. I don’t care if nothing is in it NOW. Something WAS in it at one time, and something took great care to construct it. Not quite sure how that was managed. It’s not an old building – the couple just built it themselves a few years ago. The bird’s nest was constructed after that. There is no way someone could have stuck it up there thinking it would make a nifty decoration.

There were many nooks and crannies. Nooks and crannies so creepy that I would shut my eyes as I walked past them. Places that cats would love to hang out in. Matter of fact, wouldn’t be surprised if there were a few cats in there. This would be a kid’s paradise.

It was fine though. I’m a grown woman. I found myself a broom and put myself to work. I was knocking down cobwebs in the rafters above our bed, off the various Gnomes placed throughout the house, and out of the shower.

The rest of the Gnome Home was spotless. And the hummingbirds outside the window were wonderful. I think they were hummingbirds…they may have been bats. Not sure. But the cobwebs were a problem, and in my cleaning business eyes, a big problem. Where there are cobwebs there are spiders, where there are spiders there are bats, where there are bats there are raccoons, where there are raccoons, there are probably bears. Not a good deal out in the middle of an island with no way off after 10 pm.

It was starting to get dark as I was cleaning up the place, so I put down the broom and headed outside to the patio area to see what my soldier was up to. He was out there. He had the twinkling lights on, a fire in the fire pit, soft music playing, wine poured, and steaks sizzling on the grill.

The place was suddenly the most magical place I had ever seen. The cobwebs didn’t matter, the bird’s nest seemed mystical, and the creepiness disappeared. It’s safe to say that that night, in the middle of an island that we couldn’t escape, was one of the best nights of my life.