And The Nominees Are...

When I was in Michigan last month, I checked out the RedBox at the local grocery store, searching for a $1 movie I could enjoy once Bryony went to bed. In such moments, when I'm flying solo, it's always nice to watch a movie that I know my husband wouldn't normally be interested in. And I don't mean a "chick flick" because I'm not typically interested in those movies, either. I mean, well...GOOD movies that my bad-sci-fi-B-movie husband would roll his eyes at. (Sorry, honey). I typically like the critically acclaimed films and he usually likes the straight-to-videos. But I digress.

I ended up renting "Temple Grandin," a biopic starring Claire Danes as the title character. It's a film that NPR has given a lot of attention over the last year. Two different talk radio programs even interviewed the movie's namesake, Temple Grandin. I loved it, and actually think Adam would like it, too, despite the general lack of aliens, superheroes, supervillians and end-of-the-world calamities on the horizon.

One thing that I absolutely loved about the movie, though, was one of the supporting actors, David Straitharn. He's one of those actors whose name you don't necessarily know, but whose face you recognize because he pops up in so many different movies. Maybe he or she is a character actor, playing the same role in every movie, or maybe s/he is cast more diversely; whatever the case, this actor is brilliant at what they do. They might have even won an Emmy or Golden Globe, but for whatever reason, they don't get the same recognition that a Will Smith or a Natalie Portman does. So, I thought I would post a few of my favorite "underappreciated" actors on here to give them their due. You'll likely recognize their faces, if not their names. I call this category "Best Under-Appreciated Actor/Actress." And the nominees are...

David Straitharn


Andre Braugher


Linda Hunt


B D Wong


Loretta Devine


J K Simmons


Regina Taylor


William Fichtner

Do you have any actors that you'd add to this list? Feel free to nominate some other deserving thespians in the comments section.

Marching Orders

First off, I want to thank--profusely--all of the many folks who responded to my last post. Your Facebook comments, e-mails, text messages and phone calls are not just appreciated, but are my soul food right now. Thank you, thank you, thank you for your kind thoughts, offers of support and sympathy and emotional rejuventation. My cup runneth over.

We are doing okay. The initial shock--if you want to call it that, since we did know that Adam's deployment was probably imminent--has worn off, and now we are in planning mode. Upon receiving his deployment orders, Adam was also told he was getting a 2-week extension here at Fort Hood. This meant we had some time to pack our things and make the transition back to Michigan before Adam has to report to Georgia. But the extension orders didn't come, and as of last night, we worried that we would be getting kicked out of our apartment since today is the official end of his first contract. I've spent the entire morning packing, shredding documents and surveying which food items to throw away, give away, or pack for the trip. I'm so glad that we moved the bulk our things back to Michigan a couple weeks ago, but even so, packing the remainder of the apartment is more than a one-person, one-day venture. I staved off feelings of being overwhelmed as I packed belongings (that Bryony routinely unpacked when my back was turned). Then, about an hour ago, Adam called and said that he had received the extension orders; we can stay here in the apartment for another couple weeks. *Relief*

Over the last couple days I've had time to think about the reality of Adam being gone. I've been through a long deployment twice before (and many other shorter assignments throughout our twelve years together), so I know what to expect: loneliness, sadness, panic when something goes wrong that I don't know how to deal with, worry for his safety even when he tells me he's fine, more panic as I realize the time apart is not ticking by as quickly as I'd hoped. But, I also know that in a situation like this, there is also room for unexpected surprises, opportunities, possibilities. I was reminded yesterday that this very blog was started four years ago when Adam was deployed to Iraq, and I had accepted a temporary field biologist position in Oregon. That summer in Oregon completely changed my life, as I acquired a new sense of professional purpose, self-identity and independence, and a few life-long friendships. Chances are, I would not have accepted a job so far away from Michigan if Adam had not been gone; but, I used his absence as an opportunity to do something for myself, for which I am eternally grateful. That's not to say that I would gladly have had him go to Iraq then (or now); but if he's got to go, then it's useful for me to concentrate on the benefits of being by myself even while being aware of the drawbacks.

I'm not fooling myself; I know that having Bryony as part of the picture now changes things immensely. But hopefully both she and I will gain something positive from this year of "just us gals" of which we can look back on and be proud. I once told Adam that there should be a bumper sticker out there for servicemembers that says, "I might be the soldier (sailor, Marine, etc.), but my family are the troopers."

This year will be the year for us troopers.

I'm Sad

Today I have no witty titles, humorous stories or political ideals to rant about. Today I just have honest, raw, gut emotion, and you, dear readers, get to read the brunt of it. Lucky you.

Many of you know (and for those of you who don't, please don't feel slighted; we just didn't want to put news out there until things were for certain) that our status here in Texas has been uncertain at best. Adam's current orders (military-speak for contract) end in late-January, so several months ago he asked the powers-that-be for an extension so that he could continue his work here for another year. He was assured by many that his presence here is valuable and an extension of his orders would meet no roadblocks. As you know from my previous posts, I'm not a big fan of Fort Hood, or the surrounding town of Killeen, where we live. I have wanted to move back to Michigan for quite some time. Problem is, Fort Hood = employment; the same cannot be said for us in Michigan. So we waited. And waited. And waited some more.

While we were waiting for some word on Adam's extension, he informed me that the unit that he's been working with this last year would be deploying to Kuwait in Spring 2011. At least two of his higher-ups told him that he very likely would not join the unit there, but instead stay behind at Fort Hood and work with another unit. We found relief in those assurances, but because we are both savvy enough to know that nothing in the military is ever certain until it's in writing, we kept our hackles up.

Months went by and we waited for news of his extension. I got increasingly homesick for friends, activities and the familiar comforts of Michigan and started contemplating a move back, even if Adam did get orders to stay in Texas another year. I felt guilty for thinking of splitting up my family, but my life in Texas has been isolated and lonely, save for two girlfriends who I don't see regularly. I honestly didn't know what choice to make: return to Michigan for my own mental sake, or stay in Texas to keep my family together.

About six weeks ago, Adam informed me that he'd gotten word that orders were coming down the pipeline, but that what we'd most feared would likely come true: he'd accompany his unit on their spring deployment. Then he added insult to injury: the unit was no longer deploying to Kuwait, but rather to Iraq, and instead of leaving in mid-March, they were leaving the first of February. I was dumbstruck. We were in the midst of preparing for the holidays and I now had to think of losing Adam in just over a month's time? For an entire year? All I could do was look at Bryony and imagine a year of her waiting for her Dad to walk through the door. How do you explain these things to a toddler, especially when you can't even quite understand it all yourself? I asked Adam if there was any possibility left of him staying behind at Fort Hood for the year. In my mind, I was already making deals that if he was allowed to stay in Texas that I would give up any plans to return to Michigan. I just want my husband home with me. He told me that he was pretty sure the chances of staying in Texas for the next year were slim to none. He was going to Iraq.

Have you ever read the short story "The Monkey's Paw"? In it, an older couple receives as a gift a monkey's paw from a friend who recently travelled overseas. The paw is said to grant three wishes to whoever possesses it; however, each wish comes with a dreadful price for interfering with fate. I felt as though I had wished upon the monkey's paw. For months I had wanted to move back to Michigan, had reasoned why it was what I needed to do. Now, with impending orders for Adam to go to Iraq, I was finally getting my wish but at the expense of my husband's presence and safety. It was maddening.

The last month has been spent playing the waiting game. The administrative end of the Army had been telling Adam for weeks that his orders were being drafted and would be sent shortly, but nothing ever came. We finally decided to make the two-day drive back to Michigan last week to move our household items, in case he didn't get orders and we all returned to Michigan, or he did get orders to Iraq and only Bryony and I returned. I was hoping for the former, despite what that would mean for us financially. Adam hates the idea of being separated from us, but he hates the idea of being unemployed and unable to provide even more. We are stuck.

We entered this week knowing that if his orders did not arrive in the next two days, the entire family would be caravaning back to Michigan on Thursday. We knew there was still the possibility that we could drive all the way back to Michigan only to have the Army send Adam orders that he had to report back here to Fort Hood right away. But, with no updates or information, that was the risk we would have to face. I sent him off to work this morning hoping that he wouldn't get orders, that we would all just drive back to the quiet coziness of our life back in Michigan, keeping warm in our little house while the cold wild winter blistered outside. That was my hope.

Adam came home at lunchtime today with news. He got his orders. He leaves in mid-February to start pre-deployment training in Georgia. I could see that he was relieved knowing that he had certain employment for another year, but he was searching my face for something...gratitude? acceptance? validation? I couldn't provide him with any of those things, not in that moment. In that moment, I saw Bryony happy to have her Daddy home in the middle of the day, running circles around him as she laughed and played, dropping random objects at his feet. She doesn't just love him. She adores him, worships him, needs him. How will she get through a year without him? How will I get through a year of her not having him? Of me not having him?

I could hardly lift my face to meet his eyes as I felt tears threaten to fall. I didn't want to cry in front of him. As much as he was relieved by a stable paycheck, I knew this was hard for him, too. He's going to miss Bryony's second birthday, holidays, potty training, complete sentences and goodness-knows-what-else. His heart is breaking, too. So I didn't cry even though I really wanted to. He walked over and kissed the top of my head, one of my very favorite things that he does. He whispered to my cheek, "It'll be all right," and I almost broke down. What if it's not all right? What if something bad happens to him over there? What if he doesn't come home? I can't stop worrying about the unimaginable.

So here I am now, sad and worried and scared. We have been through this before and we got through it. But this time we have a kid and that makes everything different, harder. Not to mention the fact that we've been through this before. We've done our part for king and country, twice already. I'm tired and bitter and don't want to go through this all over again. But then, I know that while this will be Adam's third deployment, other families are going through fifth, sixth or even seventh deployments now. Families with a servicemember are being hit hard. It hurts.

Before I sat down to write this, I changed Bryony's diaper in preparation for her nap. She surprised me with a particularly catastrophic explosion in her pants. I was so shocked I gasped and she started laughing, which made me laugh, which made her laugh even harder. It was a much-needed light moment to put a pinprick in my bubble of sorrow.

It's going to be a slow leak.

She Totally Said It

This morning while down on the floor with Bryony, I was set off into one of my typical sneezing fits (for those of you who don't know, I usually sneeze 7-10 times in a row...yeah, obnoxious). After finally ending the fit, Bryony looked up at me and said, "Bless you." I'm not even kidding. I just stared at my 19-month old in shock and wonder and asked her to repeat herself. She wouldn't. I explained to her that when I sneezed and she said, "bless you," Mama was really happy and surprised. I asked her to say it again. She just looked at me.

But I swear, she totally said it.

Home For Holiday

The week before Thanksgiving, Adam informed me that he had been approached several times by a small black kitten in the parking lot of our apartment building. Despite not being "cat people," my first response was "Where is it???." I then ran out of the apartment, down the stairs and into the parking lot, anxiously looking for said kitten. She came out from underneath a car about five minutes later, purring and rubbing her head on my legs. All black but for a few strands of white on her chest, she was a real beauty. And sweet. When Adam told me I could bring her inside if I gave her a bath first, she barely resisted being scrubbed and rinsed several times. Greg House and Bryony were also very curious, but since we didn't know what her disease status was, we kept her in the guest bathroom with food, water and a litter box.
Sometime during the night, I realized that the last thing I wanted was another cat. If anything, we want to adopt another dog once our situation nomalizes. Why would we want to bring a second cat into the mix? By the next morning, both Adam and I had seen the reality of having another cat--vet bills, cat stink, scratched furniture. We decided to seek out a no-kill shelter and drop her off that morning. Unfortunately, the no-kill shelter in this area does not take in strays since they don't know the health status of the animal, so we were forced to take the sweet little kitty to the pound. I felt a little better about this decision when I saw that there were several cat cages available, so she wouldn't be competing with lots of other cats for room. The intake officer said that there was no "expiration date" for an animal's stay there; she said most of the animals had been there for several months already. We left the little black kitten with heavy hearts, but convinced we had done the right thing.

A few days later, Adam, Bryony and I drove to Blockbuster to rent my favorite Thanksgiving movie, "Home for the Holidays," which has a jaded Holly Hunter going home to her dysfunctional family, which includes Anne Bancroft as her mother and Robert Downey, Jr. as her gay brother. As we drove up to the front entrance, the first thing both Adam and I noticed was a small black kitten roaming in front of the doors. I could hardly believe it--another stray black kitten? In one week? I bent down to pet it and it backed up hesitantly, then came forward purring, rubbing its head into my palm. I stood up and went inside to look for my movie. I was not going to get involved with yet another cat. After trolling the aisles, I couldn't find my movie and had to ask the employee at the computer if they had it. After searching his computer, he determined that they didn't own it. I lef the store disgruntled, then saw the kitten looking up at me hopefully. I hesitated for a moment, then stooped over to pick it up, and walked back in the store. I asked the two teenage girls if they knew anything about the cat. One replied in her Gamma-Gamma-Gamma voice that yes, it was the store cat. It seemed small to be the "store cat" and why would they leave it outside?, but I felt a flood of relief go through me as my responsibilities toward the furball were alleviated.
"So, I should just put it back outside?" I asked.
The girls shrugged, then giggled. "Yeah, it just hangs around outside all the time. You can leave it out there."
My relief started to wane. "Hold on a second. This is not the store cat? It's a stray?"
The girls looked warily at each other, caught in their fib. One waved her hand flippantly at me, "You can just take the cat, it's fine."
I stared at these young girls, annoyed. They shifted uncomfortably under the gaze of the mean old lady. "If this is a stray, I'm going to take it to the pound." The gasped in disbelief and horror, little pitiful "O-ohs!" emitting from their pouty lips.
I stood my ground. "Don't you girls know what happens to stray cats like these? If it doesn't get hit by a car, tortured by kids or die from disease, it'll likely breed and produce goodness knows how many litters of stray kittens in its lifetime. The only responsible thing to do is take it to the shelter." I felt good--if not old--after my little soapbox speech. The girls looked at me, defeated under my utter sage wisdom.
"Fine, fine, just take it," the girl flipped her hand at me once more. I walked purposefully out the door and to the car.
Adam was waiting for me. "So I guess we're rescuing another kitten, huh?" he said sarcastically as we drove home. I assured him we'd take this one to the pound, too. Then I remembered that the next day was Thanksgiving and the pound would likely be closed. Friday we were leaving town for the weekend. "I guess she's going to be staying the weekend with us then," Adam said as we pulled into our apartment complex.
Greg House and Bryony were equally as curious about her as they were with the first kitten. Kitten #2 wasn't quite as friendly, though, so I made sure to keep a healthy distance between them. By the time we left for our weekend trip, however, there was no keeping her in the bathroom any longer. We decided to take the risk (we didn't know her disease status) and let her and Greg House interact out in the open. Surprisingly, they played right away, just like two old buddies.
Over the next few weeks, I kept commenting to Adam that we should take the kitten to the pound. He kept putting me off, saying he'd ask around the office to see if anyone wanted to adopt her. After two weeks, he hadn't gotten any bites, and the kitten and Greg House had become almost inseparable. I kept insisting that we weren't keeping her. Adam just gave me a knowing look that said, "Yeah, sure. Keep thinking that, sister."
After more than a month of calling her "the kitten" and no longer threatening a trip to the pound, I finally gave in and told Ads we could keep her. He said we had to come up with a proper name for her. After bouncing around a few suggestions that neither of us liked that much, he looked at me suddenly and asked, "What was the name of the movie you wanted to rent the night we found her?"
Absently, I responded, "Home for the Holidays."
We both looked up slowly, smiling as we said in unison, "Holiday!"
I added, "Well, I couldn't get the movie 'Home for the Holidays' but we did get a home for Holiday." I smiled at my cheesy cleverness.

And so that is the story of the latest addition to our family, the newest "Charley"...Holiday.

Death Panels?

With all the gobbledy-gook being spewed about the new health care bill establishing death panels that will determine the fate of grandmas everywhere, Adam and I are feeling a bit like panelists ourselves as we try to determine the fate of our dear Kika.

At 15 1/2 years old, she is a pretty sad case. Quadraplegic, incontinent and increasingly disinterested in food (except for cold cuts and ice cream which she devours in a heartbeat), she has been on the downhill slide for months. We have been putting off the inevitable. Last night, after taking her outside to potty before bedtime, Adam commented for the fifty-millionth time that she is skin and bones. "She's just wasting away in front of us. It's not fair to her, Lauren. I think we're bordering on cruelty now. It's time." We've had this conversation many times in the past, but this time, I could tell that he meant it. We agreed that I would call the vet in the morning and arrange to have her put down on Saturday morning.

This morning I made the call and, feeling the tears well up in my eyes as I explained the reason for our visit, I confirmed our Saturday morning appointment. All day today I've been more attentive to her than I have been in days, or even weeks. Gone are my feelings of frustration at her persistent barking, necessary diaper changes, and half-hour long attempts at eating. Now I look at this girl who's been in my life for the past eleven years and I think about losing her in a matter of days. I thought I had come to peace with it, that after losing Shabbi three years ago I had more perspective on the situation. But now, after a full evening of just cuddling with her, feeding her ice cream from my palm and seeing her all-knowing eyes look up at me for comfort, I think I'm chickening out. I don't think I can keep that Saturday morning appointment.

I just can't lose my little girl. Not yet.

I'll call to cancel in the morning.

To Everything, Turn, Turn, Turn

Happy New Year! We had a momentary thrill from being able to say that we were taking part in the day 1.1.11. And then the buzz wore off and it was just another day except that it was January and warm enough to go for a 3-hour walk at the park.

New Year's Day I went to a coffee shop in Austin and the barista who made my drink confided to me that she was "so happy" to bid 2010 adieu. She said all week she had been giddy, knowing that a new year was right around the corner. She was so adamant about it that I wished her extra goodwill on this, the new year. She thanked me, then rolled her eyes and sighed, saying, "It can't be worse than 2010 was." I looked at this cute little hippy chick with the nose piercing and sweet demeanor and wondered what in her world could have been so awful to make her wish 2010 away so vehemently.

As I reflect on the last year with gratitude, wonder and happiness and look toward 2011 with feelings of trepidation and angst, I am reminded that the only constant in life is change. Births, deaths, marriages, divorces, new jobs, joblessness, happiness, sorrow, wealth, poverty...the cycle of life includes all of these things. I am reminded of the song "Turn! Turn! Turn!" that The Byrds made famous back in the 60s (and the lyrics of which were taken mostly from the Bible). Life is a continuous journey, not just with forks in the road but also with obstacles, wrong turns and retraced footsteps. Life is also a journey we take alone and yet together all at the same time, with shared experiences and emotions but with private thoughts and independent choices. It's all about change; to everything there is a season, turn, turn, turn.

How we choose to adapt and respond, in whatever year we're in, is up to us.