Alaska to California Part 5: Oregon (and a bit of Washington again)

One of our travel goals is to visit every State. We decided to check Oregon off our list during this move. It made sense, especially since we were so close. A friend recommended we go to Multanomah Falls, and it turned out to be a fantastic suggestion because the falls are absolutely beautiful.

The desk clerk at our hotel suggested we drive the Fruit Loop, a scenic drive through the Hood River Valley that takes you past orchards, farms, and wineries, and gives you unbelievably gorgeous views of Mount Hood. There are farm stands all along the way, although not many were open yet because it is just the beginning of the growing season. We did stop at one farm stand, where they mostly had jams and syrups made from last year's harvest. I bought a jar of strawberry rhubarb jam (for $7, much to Husband's shock, but then again he has never had strawberry rhubarb jam so he doesn't know that you can't really put a price on good jam). The farm stand had some goats in a pen nearby so of course we had to stop and say "hello" to them. Words and pictures do not come close to describing the beauty of this area. I want to live here. 

Doesn't this look like the most beautiful spot for a farm stand?

Once we finished the Fruit Loop, we drove along the Columbia River Gorge. You have a couple choices when driving along the gorge: you can take the new highway, which runs along the bottom of the gorge near the river, or you can take the old highway, which runs along the top of the gorge. I recommend taking the old highway. The views are better, and you can go at a more leisurely pace since it doesn't have a lot of traffic.

We crossed back into Washington, and on the recommendation of the same friend who suggested we visit the falls, we made a small detour to the Maryhill Stonehenge. This replica of the Stonehenge in England was completed in 1929 and is the first monument in the United States to honour those who were killed in World War I. 

We finished this portion of our travel by spending the night with some dear friends from Virginia who now live in Washington. It was great to be reunited with them for a few hours. They gave us same tips on visiting Yellowstone National Park, which you will read all about in the next post. Stay tuned. 

Maybe he should get more sleep...

I don't think Husband was fully awake when he dressed for work this morning. Those pants don't look like Army issue to me...

We're moving!

Husband and I moving to Texas in less than 2 weeks! Husband is leaving the army and will be training to become a police officer. The class was going to start in March, but has been pushed to at least June. By the time we received that information, we were already making plans to move. So we decided to move out there early. That will give us time to get settled. It will give me time to find a job. I haven't worked for almost a year now, and the thought of a job kind of makes me sad! How will I keep up with all my talk shows? (Just kidding...sort of!)

I have never moved an entire apartment across the country before. In fact, I've never moved an entire apartment across town! It has been, and will continue to be, a learning experience. The other night, Husband was trying to reserve a moving truck online, and he asked me what size of truck I thought we would need. Ummm? How about one that is big enough to fit all of our stuff? For some reason, he did not find that answer helpful! To be honest, I don't want to have anything to do with picking the truck size. That way, if it is too small, it is not my fault! Selfish? Maybe. Smart? Definitely!

We have packed up quite a bit of stuff already, but it seems like there is so much more to pack up. I feel like I have no idea what I am doing, and I don't! I don't know how to pack up an apartment! Calm down. Breathe! In through the mouth, out through the nose (I can hear my friend Olivia saying this to me. It's one of her more famous sayings!). I can do this! If nothing else, I'll shove everything into garbage bags and make Husband figure out how to put it in the truck that is too small!

The difficult life of a Military wife, part three

The army has thrown up in my livingroom!

That's a lot of gear!

Can anyone guess what movie is playing on the TV?

The difficult life of an army wife, part two

Ryan has been home less than a week and I have already failed as a military wife. My previous attempts to be a good army wife have been less than stellar, but I figured once Ryan returned from Iraq things would get better. I have been trying so hard to make his transition from the battlefield to the home front as seamless as possible. I stocked my cupboards with his favourite foods (read: chips, candy and other JUNK!). I've been letting him sleep as long as he wants to (read: ALL morning!). I have not said anything about his stuff being all over the house as he tries to organize it (read: at one point I couldn't even walk through my living room!). And being the good wife I am, I insisted that all of his clothing that was with him in the desert be washed. After spending 90 minutes at the laundromat and doing 7 loads of laundry, I was feeling pretty good about being such a kind and thoughtful wife. This would be a good time to point out that Ryan was with me at the laundromat and that he put himself in charge of folding all of his army related clothing. (Keep this in mind as you continue to read. This one fact is very important!) Several hours later, Ryan was getting his things together for work. He asked me (his wonderful amazing totally awesome wife) where I had put his Physical Training (PT) shirts when I put the laundry away. After thinking for a couple seconds, I told him I didn't put any PT shirts away. He insisted that he had given me the PT shirts to wash, I insisted that I could not remember sorting, washing or folding the grey PT shirts. Ryan, being the amazing husband he is, kept saying "I am not blaming you for anything." (and of course, I was thinking "You can't blame me! I never saw them!") We started searching the house, trying to find the shirts. I even searched through the garbage bag in the kitchen. It had potato peelings, onion skins and watermelon rinds (disgusting!), but no shirts. (Ryan supposedly searched the trash bag outside, but I have my doubts. However he came up empty handed as well.) Eventually, Ryan decided to go back to the laundromat to see if we left any clothes there. He left and I sat down to watch TV, convinced that where ever the shirts were, it was all Ryan's doing. After all, he was the one who "supposedly" gave me the shirts to sort with the laundry; the one who "supposedly" folded all his army clothes at the laundromat. I could not remember the shirts. And besides, a good wife would remember the clothes that she had laundered. This was clearly Ryan's misplacement problem. The trip to the laundromat turned up nothing and Ryan returned home, resigned to the fact that he would have to purchase new PT shirts. After his return, he continued to gather things up for work. He asked me where his army socks were. All of a sudden I was hit with a sinking feeling. PT shirts? I had no recollection of sorting or washing PT shirts. But socks? I remembered socks. Lots and lots of socks. It was at that point I had one of those flashbacks that you see on TV all the time: me putting the socks in the laundry basket; me putting the socks in the washing machine; me putting the socks in the dryer. And that was where the flashback ended. That was also when I realized I had misplaced a load of laundry! (ok, in all fairness I should say "WE" misplaced a load of laundry, since Ryan was at the laundromat with me). Yes, me, the wonderful amazing thoughtful wife. This was my first time washing anything army related and I had left some clothes behind! Ryan watched as realization dawned on my face, and I am pretty sure he knew that I knew he was right. So, back to the laundromat we went. Yep. Back to the laundromat. The one that Ryan had just returned from less than 30 minutes before, claiming that none of our clothes were there. One of the workers was emptying out a dryer full of PT shirts and army socks as we walked in. Ryan stopped her, saying "I think those are our clothes". Her response "I was just putting them in the back. They have been here all day". No kidding! I had left them there all day! I apologized to Ryan for leaving his clothes, but made it clear that I was not taking full responsibility because he was just as capable of making sure we had all the laundry before we went home! He laughed and said "You have to write a blog about this". Later as I was folding the PT shirts, I still could not remember ever having them at the laundromat! If Ryan hadn't asked about the socks, I never would have realized that I had left the clothes. I guess I can chalk this up to a learning experience: Lesson 1: Make sure you have all the laundry before you leave the laundromat! Lesson 2: Letting a husband help with laundry is a bad idea, because if something goes wrong, he will blame you even though he was right there with you; Lesson 3: Sometimes, (but rarely) a husband knows what he is talking about!

Welcome home!

Right now, as I type this, my husband is sleeping the bedroom. Normally not something to write about, but when your husband has just returned from a 14 month deployment to Iraq, it is not only something to write about, but something to celebrate! I wish I had the words to describe how happy I feel! After being separated for such a long time, it seems a bit surreal that he is actually home. I keep thinking that he is going to leave in a couple of days to go back. But he's not! He's here to stay!

I am so proud of my husband and what he has done. He is truly my hero. He has served his country well. He has done what thousands have done before him and are still doing. I have always had a great respect for the men and women of the military and since my marriage to a soldier, that respect has grown. I admire the men and women who willing put themselves in harm's way, day after day. (Look for a blog about this in a week or so)

Husband and I have always talked about how extremely blessed we were during this tour of duty. Husband was able to phone my on a daily basis, and email me regularly. I was able to send packages to him and he would get them in a relatively short amount of time. I feel so lucky that Husband was on a Base that enable him to have access to communication.

I am especially grateful to God for keeping Husband safe from harm. Everyday I would pray for his safety, but realized that he was in a war and I was acutely aware of the dangers that were around him. Thankfully, he was very safe, and he was able to come home to me.

Below is a picture of one of the best sights in the world to an army wife: her husband's boots in the middle of the floor after a deployment!

The difficult life of a military wife

Many people ask me what the hardest thing is about being a military wife. I am sure they are expecting answers such as "It is hard to have him deployed"; or "Never knowing when he is going to call"; "The long hours he works sometimes" or even "Having my heart gripped with fear everytime he says: 'I won't be able to call for a few days'". But none of these come close to the most difficult thing I have had to endure as a military wife: memorizing Husband's Social Security number. In the army (and I would assume all branches of the military), everything is done by Social Security numbers (for my Canadian readers, it's the same as a Social Insurance Number). I cannot, for the life of me, memorize his Social!! But, wait it gets better, I can't memorize my Social either! This presents quite a problem in the military world. One of the first questions I get ask when ever I have to do anything army related is "What's your husband's social", and then there is a long pause as I dig through my purse, trying to find the piece of paper I wrote the numbers on just in case they ask for them (which the ALWAYS do), as the military person I am dealing with looks on, probably wondering why I don't have it memorized. It's not that I can't memorize things; I still remember my university ID number and I have been graduated for 6 years! I can remember my PIN numbers; and in most cases my credit card numbers. I have my Social Insurance Number down pat (Thanks, in part, to having to write it on every single student loan I ever applied for). I can still rattle off most of the phone numbers I've ever had. But, for some unknown reason, I cannot memorize two Social Security numbers! Maybe, on the subconsious level it is my way of holding on to being a Canadian. Maybe, in some way, memorizing two Social Security numbers would mean I was letting go of who I truly am: A doughnut eating, maple loving, hockey watching Canadian. Or, maybe, just maybe, my brain is too full of numbers to put anymore in there. Whatever the reason, the end result is the same: I will forever be digging into my purse looking for the numbers as the person who asked for them looks at me like I am an idiot.