The Story

"If at first you don't succeed...  skydiving is not your sport."~ Unknown

Once upon a time in a not-so-far away place…

“Ugh!  [long sigh.] Insurance companies suck.”  I dramatically rolled my eyes, dragging out the last word for emphasis, aware of the glaring statement.  It was a complicated mistake on their part.  Naturally, they decided otherwise.  Logic and English-speaking operators were nonexistent.  And although it was only a mere $20 mistake billed to the wrong person- they deemed it near impossible to fix.  


Perhaps it was a bit confusing- what with us having the same last name and all.  But not married [anymore].  Not related- but together.  So I gave them the benefit of the doubt and forgave the misunderstanding.

“We should just get married already.”  I threw it out there.  Half joking.  Somewhat serious.  Mostly oblivious, as I was already on to deciding what I was craving for lunch.  I already knew his feelings on the whole marriage topic.  Why ruin a good thing?  It didn't work the first time.  We were in a good place now- having divorced and somehow ended up back together some two years later.

“Alright, let’s do it then,” was not the reply I was expecting.  “What do you want to eat for lunch?”  He continued, not missing a beat.

I froze.  I felt like a Labrador Retriever and he had just fake-threw me a bone, while I searched and searched for it frantically in the tall weeds.  All the while it rested in his palm behind his back.  I couldn't read him this time.  Was he joking?  Because if he was, it was mean.  I would sound all venerable and girly with any response I could have blurted out in that moment.  So I refrained. 

“Ha, ha,” was all I managed to squeak out.  It was more of a question than a laugh.

He was serious. 

And so, on a sunny Monday afternoon, we drove off to the court house to request a marriage license.  They were slightly concerned initially because as stated before, we had the same last name.  Apparently that tends to happen ‘round these parts from time-to-time.  She began to explain it was only legal if we were at least second cousins.

"No, no-" we interjected in unison.  "It’s a RE-marriage." 

"Ohhhh.  Yes, that is better," the courthouse clerk said, clearly relieved of avoiding an awkward situation.  "Okay, just sign here."

And so, three days later- three because there is a two-day waiting period, and he had a golf tournament on Wednesday (priorities), we were married on a Thursday.  Again.  But just the two of us this time, as we decided not to tell a soul until after.  Perhaps they’d think we were daft.  I mean, how many people get married twice- to the same person??  A handful, I suppose.  Did they ever work?  Dr. Phil said rarely.

So the odds weren't exactly in our favor.  But we just didn't quite believe it.  This time, we really did know what it's like to be on both sides of the fence- and we still chose to be together.  We were older.  We were already committed to each other.  Marriage wasn’t going to change that.

But yet, the funny thing, it actually kind of did.  Somehow it made the commitment even stronger.  

On the clerk's window, there was a comic strip with two people standing in front of a priest.  The bride is saying to her husband-to-be, “The correct response is ‘I do,’ not ‘I’ll give it a shot.’"

And so, on that day, we too decided to give it a shot.  Forever.

What NOT To Do Before you Join the Navy.

*The following advice column may contain slightly explicit language and/or suggestive indications of naughty words.  I apologize in advance- but it is nearly impossible to tell G-rated boot camp stories.  Please do not read if easily offended.  But come back and read next week's post.  It'll be cleaner, I'm sure.

In the past month or so, many brilliant (and possibly not-so-brilliant) young men and women have graduated high school.  Right now they are probably enjoying their lackadaisical summers, sipping lemonade and tanning by the pool.  When autumn arrives, however; they will embark on a journey into a world full of opportunities.  Many will go to college.  Some may go right to work.  A few will just sleep a lot on their parent’s couch.  And the remainder may think it would be a good idea to join one of the branches of the military.

Though I cannot speak for all branches- I will say joining the Navy was a decision I do not regret.  Although, there are many things I wish I could go back and tell myself during those crazy beginning months.  Mainly:  You will survive. 

And of course there are many lessons I've learned along the way by watching others learn the hard way.  Being the nice person that I am- I would like to take this opportunity to pass on some of these important lessons for others that follow. 

Below are 4 major lessons of what NOT to do before you join the Navy:


1.  Do not go and smoke a “doobie” [as we used to call it in Bena] at your going away party the night before you leave for boot camp.  You will get a drug test upon arrival and get kicked out dishonorably.  You will be unable to get a job anywhere- even McDonald's.  They even said so.  I guess the Navy owns McDonalds.

2.  Do not get pregnant the night before you leave for boot camp.  This will be hard to hide in the upcoming weeks.  Pregnancy tests are part of your entry exam.  This is one test you want to do NEGATIVE-ly on.

[Though this lesson pertains to women - I’d strongly recommend guys are cautious in this matter as well.  Boot Camp is the last place you want baby-mama drama following you.]

3.  Do not join the Navy if you cannot do a single push-up.  You will pay.  We all will pay.  You will pay for making others pay.

4.  And for the love of all that is right and holy, please do NOT join the Navy if you cannot swim.  (Think:  Navy= ships.  Ships float on w-a-t-e-r.)

Sounds legit, right?  However, one would be surprised how many people lie about their inability to swim.  This is not the same as covering up the fact that you love disco.  You can hide Afro wigs and bell bottoms in your drawers.  You cannot hide the fact that you float like a cinder block.

If you do make the choice to join the Navy and you suddenly remember on swim day that you cannot swim, the best thing to do would be to own up to it. [you argue with me for a minute here]  Shhh.  Just do it.

How do you do that, you may ask.  First, you must tell your RDC (Recruit Division Commander- aka Drill Instructor).  If you choose not to, they are going to figure it out when you sink like a granite rock to the bottom of the pool.  You will save yourself lots of time- and choking- if you fess up early-on. 

Your conversation may go something like this:

“Petty Officer so-and-so,” you say.

“WHAT IS IT RECRUIT?”  (That is what they will call you.)

“Um, there’s something I need to… um, tell you,” you begin.

“DAMMIT WHAT IS IT RECRUIT I DON’T HAVE ALL DAY SPIT IT OUT!”

You get nervous now, because of all of the yelling.  Your palms begin to sweat.  You forget what you were going to say.  “I, ah,” you stumble, buying time until you remember.  You swallow, but it feels like you have a cherry stuck in your throat.  Not the little maraschino ones- the big black cherries.

After what seems like 50 minutes and 10 seconds, you manage to pull it together.  “Sir, I just thought you should know-"

“GODDAMMIT RECRUIT I WORK FOR A LIVING DON’T CALL ME SIR,” the RDC interrupts.

And you lost your thoughts again.  Nervous pause.  Thinking.  RDC waiting.  Everyone looking with pleading eyes as if they are saying, “What are you doing? Don’t anger him!  We’ll all pay.  Again.” 

“Petty officer, it’s just that I don’t think I can really technically swim,” you just blurt out at last- relieved to be done talking for the moment.

The RDC pauses, looking you up and down as if you’ve grown a third leg.  He studies your face.  You begin to think he is thinking about how sorry he is for you.  Perhaps compassionate, even.  Then he takes a deep breath and begins.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT DO YOU NOT REALIZE THIS IS THE NAVY WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU JOIN THE NAVY IF YOU CAN’T SWIM DON’T YOU REALIZE THAT NAVY EQUALS SHIPS AND SHIPS LIVE IN THE WATER WHAT THE HELL DID YOUR MAMA SIGN YOU UP FOR DID SHE HAVE TO [censored] THE RECRUITER TO GET YOU INTO THE NAVY YOU’RE ABOUT AS USELESS AS NIPPLES ON A BULL WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING SON GO GET BACK IN LINE RIGHT NOW AND YOU WILL WAIT UNTIL EVERYONE IS DONE TAKING THEIR TEST LIKE A SHRIVELED UP PRUNE IN THE WATER AND THEN YOU WILL GO WITH PETTY OFFICER SO-AND-SO SO HE CAN TAKE YOUR HAND AND TEACH YOU HOW TO SWIM LIKE A LITTLE GIRL SO I DON’T HAVE TO STARE AT YOUR PUNY [censored] RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME AND HE WILL TEACH YOU TO DO ALL THE THINGS YOUR MAMA NEVER TAUGHT YOU DO YOU UNDERSTAND RECRUIT NOW GET THE [censored] OUT OF MY FACE.”

And then they will teach you how to swim. See how helpful they can be?

Ah, Rejection.

Being extremely new to the publishing world- and when I say new,  I'm like a hot shiny penny right off the press. I can admit it:  I have no idea what I'm doing.

I have the stories in my head (along with other important information like baseball stats and historical short people).  

So I put the 'stories' on paper.  I parent them.  I caress and nurture them until they are grown and mature enough to send away.  I polish them up to look their very best and bid them adieu- hoping for a kind world to take them in with open arms. 

Sometimes it happens.  Sometimes it doesn't.  The majority of the time I receive the sweetest little 'We love you, but you suck' rejection letter.

I'll take the letter to my desk in my personal library.  I will sip a single malt scotch on the rocks and chew on a Cuban cigar, all the while developing my plan to take out all of the talented writers in this world.  

No, no, I'm only joking now.  I do not have a personal library.

I have decided that there is nothing worse than trying to sell yourself.  I'm not a salesman.  I cannot barter to save my life.  In fact, I have often offered more money if I felt that someone is selling me something for less than its value.  

The marketing part of writing a book is just not for me.  I'd rather give my stories away if I could afford to do so.  I'm not looking to make money- just to come out even and tell a story that is burning inside of me to whomever will listen.  My family.  My cats.  Random school children I see at playgrounds. 

But alas, publishing companies are not keen on the idea of not getting a return on their money invested in publishing cost.


Now, since I had not sold myself- er- marketed myself in a few weeks, I decided that yesterday I'd give it a shot at the quaint little Aviation Museum near my place of work.  The museum's gift shop is full of everything aviation and Navy related, and run by a little old man in his 70's along with his little old wife.  According to him, she was the boss.  He just kept the shelves stocked. 

I had already sold him a dozen copies of My Mom Hunts Submarines to carry in the store.  I wanted to see if he would be interested in my second book that just came out, All Hands on Deck! Dad's Coming Home!  (Overkill on exclamation marks?)  And naturally, I thought that the Aviation Museum would be the best place to sell books about the military.

When I arrived, one of the volunteers ran off to get the little old man.  I browsed the store, killing time as I waited.  And there it was- in the children's section, only 3 of my books remained!  I was ecstatic!  I had sold 9 books!  A small but very important victory.

I thought perhaps he would even want to buy more of My Mom Hunts Submarines too!

I met him with a smile as he walked into the room.

Sweet Old Man:  [sincerely smiling] Oh, hello there.

Me:  Hi!  I'm Julia. [holding out my hand for him to shake.]

Sweet Old Man:  Oh, yes, yes.  I remember you wrote the book.

Me:  Yes!  [whoa, simmer down now.  Don't look crazy excited.  I simmer down and clear my throat.]  
I did write the book.  I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop in and see how the book was doing.  Oh, and if you're interested, I actually wrote another one.  This one's for the dads in the Navy.  [see how I slid that in there all smooth like honey]

Sweet Old Man:  [Looking down and shaking his head]  Well, you know.  I'm having a hard time pushing the books of yours that I have.

Me:  [Confused...]  Oh really?  Well... I saw that you only had 3 copies left.  Do you have the rest of them in storage?

Sweet Old Man:  Oh, oh no.  I don't keep them in storage.  You gave me 6 copies, right?

Me:  Well, actually Sir, I gave you 12.  I still have the invoice-

Sweet Old Man:  Oh, that's okay.  Yes, well my wife, see, she's the boss.  I just keep the shelves stocked.

Me:  Uh-huh.  [ I nod.  This is not new information.]

Sweet Old Man:  [holding hand to ear and getting so close I can smell his aftershave]  You'll have to speak up honey.  I'm 75 years old and I have a hard time hearing young ladies like yourself.

Me:  Oh yes sir.  I understand.

Old Man:   Those are nice earrings you have.

Me:  [That was... random.]  Well thank you very much.

Old Man:   Well dear, how about this.  How about I throw one of these new books of yours on the table here next to the old one and we'll see how it does.  If I can sell it, well then, I'll buy some more from you.

Me:  Okay... [I guess it's better than nothing.  I'm thinking he's not going to pay me for that book he just threw on table.]

Old Man:   I know you're just trying to grow your business.  It's not easy to write a good book.
 
Me:  Um, yes.  [Unsure how to take that]

Mean Old Man:  Well, common now.  It was sure nice of you to stop by.  [gives me hug]

Me:  [Perhaps he's not completely mean- just honest.  Ugh, why do people have to be so honest?]  Well thank you very much, Sir.  [realizing he can't hear me, I increase my volume]  It was good to see you again.  I will stop in again sometime.

Not-So-Bad Old Man:  Yes, dear.  Stop in again sometime when you want to buy something.
[Again not too sure how to take that one...]

And so I left, feeling slightly perplexed.  Did I get rejected again?  At least when the big companies do it, they spell out YOU SUCK.  Well more or less. 

This entire endeavor of writing and marketing has been a slow, and slightly painful learning process.  Okay, really painful.  I'm definitely developing nerves of steel.  Like most everyone, I have no idea if I'm going to be living on the street someday, trying to sell tattered books made out of yellowed notepads from my bicycle basket. 

If we are not careful, we all can let the "you're just not good enough's" get us down.  It can make us want to quit and be realistic.  Go get a practical job.  But for some reason, I just can't be practical.  Not about this, anyway. 

I still have my day job- which is good or else I'd be starving. That's practical, right?  But I believe that one just never knows what may lie around the next corner.  In a single day, our lives can change, and all of the rejections will finally make sense as they have led us to that point.  And maybe then I can quit my day job.  Maybe.



“A boo is a lot louder than a cheer.”
― Lance Armstrong

“When you're following your inner voice, doors tend to eventually open for you, even if they mostly slam at first.”
― Kelly Cutrone, If You Have to Cry, Go Outside: And Other Things Your Mother Never Told You

Vacation, what??

This one time- I went on a vacation.  

Being slightly obsessive like I am, I planned it to a 'T'.  I had made reservations a year in advance.  I packed and planned for weeks.  I made list, after neurotic list, of every possible item needed and tasks to be completed before we left.    I printed off games from the Internet for the kids for the 25-hour car ride. (one way, that is)  I put together little kits for them, and had stocked the truck with kid-friendly DVDs and juice boxes. (100% juice of course.  I know the "Good Mom Rules")   I created a playlist on my iPod for every day that we were there- for background music.  Ha- only kidding.  Mostly.

I left instructions for my house-sitters.  I prepared in every way I possibly could. 

So when we arrived at our little old-fashion resort cabin in Deer River 2.5 days after leaving Maryland, I couldn’t have been more ecstatic to REALLY get the vacation started and indulge in some much needed RELAXATION time. 

As soon as we arrived, the kids threw on their swimming suits and were down to the beach in seconds.  They were completely entertained by the lake, sand, and catching bugs.  

We water-skied. (which is my secret super-power, by the way.)  It's true.  I can water-ski like a duck lands on water.  [insert better simile here]

We swam, we jet-skied, and we barbecued.  Life was good.

And then.. something happened.  Mother Nature had other plans. 

It was our second full day there.  We had just settled down to eat our dinner when the sky began to darken. 

Naturally, I grew excited for a good ol’ Minnesotan thunderstorm to bring on a lightening show and impress the kids with a few explosions of thunder.  Minnesota does thunderstorms.

What I failed to anticipate:  Straight-lined, tornado-like winds that whipped across the lake at a monstrous 80 mph.  It collided with the land like a brick wall, tearing up everything in its path.  I could not see the other side of the small lake.

Safe in our quaint but small, one-level cabin, we helplessly watched as boats were plucked up from the waters and swept over the dock.  The pontoon tie-downs were breaking free from the posts, causing the pontoons to float away into the depths of the lake.  The trees began to crack and fall with a bone-chilling crash.  It was none short of a nightmare. 

And then... as quickly as it arrived, it fled, leaving nothing but a light rainfall from the clouds.

We all rushed out to assess the situation.  Thankfully, everyone was okay.  So we set out to attempt the rescue of all the pontoons and boats that had torn away from the dock, and clear out all of the fallen trees that now blocked our path out. 

My dad could not get to his nearby house due to the downed trees and power lines.  He had to park half way home and walk in the rest of the way to the house.  He later discovered a tree on his house and his pontoon (that had been tied and anchored 3 times) was gone, taking along with it- the end of his dock.  By this point, nightfall had come and it was too dark to see a thing.

The entire city of Deer River and its surrounding areas were without electricity.  Trees rested upon houses and vehicles everywhere.  In every direction, trees were either uprooted or snapped right in half.  Some homes were a total loss.  In all of my years, I had never seen anything like it there.

The next day was spent with chainsaws and wheelbarrows as we removed, repaired, and recovered as much as possible.  By the end of the day- we had secured most of the immediate necessary repairs, though much work will continue over the rest of the summer.

By the next day we attempted to resume our ‘vacation’.  However now, we were really roughing it.  We did not have electricity, water, or air-conditioning.  Thankfully we had a lake.  Yes, a lake is a fabulous place to take a bath (in a swimsuit of course unless you sneak out at night).  We could haul up water from the lake to use to flush the toilet.  (Carefully watching for fish, of course, as nothing clogs a toilet more than a walleye...)  We lived like they did on Little House on the Prairie- except with beer.  Thank God for beer.   

We bought ice and attempted to save our refrigerated foods in coolers in addition to keeping the beer cold.  And when night came, we lay atop our covers scantily dressed in a starfish position and prayed for any type of wind or air movement to cool our severely sweltering bodies in the 90+ degrees.  Only, it didn’t.  Instead we were lulled to sleep with the constant buzzing of mosquitoes gnawing on our half-naked bodies.

Despite all of this…..

I must admit, my vacation helped me appreciate my ‘normal’ life in which I am spoiled by many of life’s luxuries.  Running water.  A flushing toilet.  Lights.  Air-conditioning.  Cold beer.

I had extra time to focus on and visit with my crazy family.  And yes, they truly are crazy.

On the night before we were to leave- lo and behold the lights suddenly came to life.  We screamed as if we had won a car on The Price is Right.  We celebrated by turning on every single light in the cabin and flushing the toilet repeatedly.  Then we realized that this was silly and wasteful, so we stopped.

The town slowly came to life again.  Everyone was a bit disheveled, but okay.  They have survived worse.  Things like this almost always brings neighbors together- helping each other out.  And that is what it did.  True story.  (as my sister- the crazy one- always likes to say.)  

Finally, I am happy to report that I was able to get my ‘Bowling Alley Pizza’ as they resumed making them on my last day there.  All is right now.  (It’s a Deer River thing.)

 Power lines across the road.

Cutting down the tree on the house.

One tree uprooted, the other had the top half blown off.

Our dock.  It used to be the shape of an 'L'.

Retrieving the end of the dock that is still attached to the pontoon.  Yay we found it!

The best pizza in the world.  Seriously.  If you ever are in Deer River- you MUST stop at the Blueberry Bowling Alley!  Tell them you'd like the "Maki Special".  

It's pure joy for your mouth.