My Newest Travel Obsessions

Knowing that I finally have the chance to explore the world, I have begun to seriously indulge in all things travel related. I've signed up for newsletters, started reading travel memoirs, and been on the lookout for anything to make budget travel even better. Here are some of my latest finds that have me super excited:

1. Wanderfly: If you are anything like me, you may not have an exact idea of where you want to go, but you know what you are willing to spend and what you want to experience. Wanderfly helps you find the best locations based on your criteria. Simply enter your location, your budget, and what you are interested in (food, beach, history, art, etc.), and it hooks you up with a list of your ideal getaway spots, including airfare and hotel prices. With a list of approximately 1,200 cities worldwide, this site is going to be a huge help to me.


2. Travel Hacking Cartel: From the creator of The Art of Non-Conformity, this site offers ways to find free airfare and miles, as well as discount hotel rooms. For a nominal monthly fee, you are given the information to find ridiculous travel deals. The most comforting feature is that they offer a guarantee that you will earn at least 4 free flights a year! Sounds almost too good to be true. I haven't tried it yet, but it's from a very reputable source, so my hopes are high...


3. Scottevest Women's Trench: While reading one of my favorite military spouse blogs, I came across my newest travel clothing obsession.

I know it's almost spring, but if you are traveling anywhere north of Italy, you will still need at least a light jacket for quite a while. This coat offers 18 hidden pockets, two of which are designed to hold a water bottle and and iPad, completely undetected! Knowing how stingy some airlines are about how many bags you take on board (I'm looking at you, RyanAir...), this jacket could be a complete lifesaver. No need for a purse - this jacket has room for cameras, phones, books, magazines, maps, wallets, snacks, keys, water bottles, and lip gloss. Oh, and did I mention it's waterproof?!

4. Exofficio clothing and underwear: One of the hassles that I have met traveling around Europe so far has been the need for extremely compact, easily hand-washable clothing. Before we left Austin, we got Ernie a pair of the boxer briefs and not only do they line dry in a snap, he swears they are the most comfortable underoos of all time. The dresses are super cute, super multifunctional, affordable and wrinkle free.

Psst! And, they are having a HUGE sale right now...

If you have any other awesome travel finds, please feel free to share. Too much information is still never enough when it comes to travel.

Human Anti-Depressants

When Ernie and I reconnected, his boys were already living in Germany. Because of this, I never had a chance to meet them until we had already been married for almost a month. We knew that, just like every other step in our marital process, this was extremely unconventional and most experts would probably say it was a bad, bad idea. But, because they were so young (Julian, 17 months and Noah, 4 years), we figured that if we waited until they were older for us to get married, it would be even harder to make the transition.

We knew that the boys were very loving, open, and used to change, so we didn't expect there to be too much of an issue. And, amazingly, there really wasn't. Ernie just explained that Daddy and Rachel love each other, and so, she has come to live with Daddy, Noah, and Julian - to be a new part of the family. In no time at all, Noah already could explain that he had two families - Mama, Noah, and Julian were one, and Daddy, Rachel, Noah and Julian were the other.

It made perfect sense to him.

And, things started chugging along just fine right from the get go. Julian and I quickly formed a bond and Noah immediately seemed to be very comfortable with me. We were incredibly lucky to never have the "You're not my MOM!" shouts or the uncomfortable "Why doesn't Mama live here with us, too?" talk. The boys just seemed to get it.

Considering what my life was like just a few months before - single, living in my apartment in downtown Austin, coming and going as I pleased, responsible only for a pair of lazy cats - I was ever so slightly concerned about this jarring entry into wife- and motherhood.

What kind of stepmother would I be? Would I be any good at it? Would I be able to instill in them a love of art, culture, reading, eating, etc.? Would they like me? What happens if I don't like them?

It turns out, that step-parenting really opened my eyes to parts of myself that I didn't realize existed. Deep wells of patience, hidden little sacks of extra super human energy, vast amounts of love to pour out. But, also, it made me see shortcomings. It made me see that even I had limits to hearing the same question over and over.

And over. And over. And over.

That I had a tendency to overstep my step-parental boundaries - to try desperately to have control that wasn't mine to have. To save these children in ways that I saw necessary, but that simply weren't my call. And, that sometimes, I just really don't feel like playing Chutes & Ladders...again.

All of these things were very hard pills to swallow. I liked to imagine that I would be perfect and that Julian would be so advanced that he would be reading his birthday cards on his 2nd birthday and that Noah's favorite hangout would be the local modern art museum. But, alas, step-parenting has taught me that despite my best intentions, they are their own little people with their own little minds and with my limited presence in their lives, there was little I could do to change that. And, the parent most responsible for who they will become is not me. I had to give up in the struggle to make everything just right. I had to recognize that my role in their lives is not as a mind molder, but as someone to be a good influence and another person in their family who loves them more than they will ever know.

Last night, I had them for the first time since Ernie left. We've been alone together many times before, so it wasn't surprising to them that Daddy wasn't here. I was a little afraid, given my slightly fragile emotional state, that I might not have the proper amount of patience or love to give them right this minute. But, in fact, I found the opposite to be true.

They are my two little mini-Ernie's. I found an unknown spring of calm, compassion, and love just bursting from inside of me. Even when Julian threw up on me four times (twice in a crowded room of strangers at a Fasching party), all I could think was how sad I was that he felt so yucky. I found myself being more gentle, more affectionate, and genuinely more in love with them than I ever had before.



They gave me a sense that my family is still here. That I still have two out of three of my sweet boys to love and hug and kiss to my heart's content. They truly brought me more peace and calm and satisfaction than I have had since Ernie left.

Some people may need anti-depressants to cope with a geographic separation like this, but I'll just take these two little guys and a yoga mat, please!

It's the Little Things...

Laundry. Such a mundane task. Most people gripe about it - especially when it involves having to do other peoples'. It's one of those unfortunate and necessary evils.

In the past, I've always felt this way. The idea of staying home and spending my days cleaning up after some man just screamed miserable 1950's, pill-popping housewife. I knew that if I married a man who expected that, I'd end up chain smoking Virginia Slims and the marriage would last all of a week - until the laundry needed cleaning and the floors needed mopping. I am a modern woman, for goodness sake. I owned my own business and lived alone and opened my own jars and my own doors. My future was worth more than signing up for a life as a live in maid.

But, when I married Ernie, all of my modern-woman-hear-me-roar talk went out the window. Knowing my stance as the "ultra emancipated woman", he never expected me to do his laundry, clean house, and pick up his dry cleaning. In fact, he sort of enjoys cleaning. He was happy just to be marrying someone that had other things to fill her time.

But, just before we got married, my soon to be mother-in-law gave me a piece of advice that has run through my head almost every day since. She said:

"Always treat your husband as a king, because if you don't, some other woman will."

And, I thought, "Of course! What is the harm in taking care of him in a traditional way? In taking the weight of all the everyday tasks off of his shoulders so that he can focus on his career and on being a better soldier? He would love it! But, oh no! It will probably just make him happier and in turn, our marriage stronger..." What was the point of not doing something so simple as his laundry to make a statement that I am a free woman, not restricted by the rules of traditional marital roles? Doing these tasks would still allow me time to accomplish all of my goals, and it would fulfill that biological womanly need to nurture, to care for my family. But, most importantly, it was a simple, small way that my husband could feel like a king everyday.

Much to my surprise, I found that taking care of him in this very primitive, very traditional way was more satisfying than anything I have ever done. It has triggered something in my brain that gives me the ultimate feeling of satisfaction - like my life has a definite purpose, and that purpose is to bring ease, joy, and comfort to the lives of the people that I love most.

Which is why, when I was doing the laundry yesterday, I had a total melt down.

I found myself smelling every piece of clothing lying around the bedroom, completely unable to throw the ones that still smell like him, into the laundry basket. It felt as if washing those clothes, folding them and putting them away would be the ultimate sign that he was gone.

Not having his crumpled undershirts lying on the floor seems unbearable.

The fact that his belt is still weaved through the loops of his pants makes it feel like he just took them off, and that he's still here somehow. Maybe he just slipped into a different pair of jeans and is out for a few moments to pick up a paper and a coffee for me. Maybe he's down in the basement, rooting through his Army gear. Either way, it still feels like he's here when I see his clothes lying about.



As I was sobbing and folding his clothes that I did manage to clean, I was so upset knowing that this would be the last time for a long, long time that I would be taking care of him in this usual way. That it would be many months before he opens his closet to see that I have spent a small part of my day trying to let him know that he has a wife who worships him.

But then I thought, how can I feel better about this? If having his dirty pants on the windowsill makes me feel better, what is the harm in leaving them there? What is the damage done by having these little pieces of him, these little reminders that he will be right back? They don't smell. They don't obstruct a walkway.

And, so, I decided to keep them there.


I decided that, when I am ready, I can toss them in the wash, fold them, and put them away. But, if I never get there, it's totally okay. The goal is to thrive through this deployment, and if a couple of dirty shirts, a pair of socks, and some cargo pants helps me get there, then their new home is on the windowsill.

Finding Strength Through Yoga

A few weeks ago, I had finally reached my tipping point. It had been five months since my last yoga class in English, and I was about to go mad. I hopped online, trying to find a local English speaking teacher, an American or Brit doing an intensive or workshop within an 8 hour radius - anything to get my fix.

Much to my delight, I found an incredible Anusara-inspired teacher in Munich named Barbra Noh. She is an Australian expat, and every Wednesday, she teaches an intermediate class in English! I was so excited that I booked a room at a hostel, filled up my gas tank, and drove 6 hours to Munich. Crazy, I know. Even other yogis thought I was crazy. But, try going five months without a class, and I guarantee you will practically be willing to sell a limb to make it happen.

Well, maybe not really. I mean triangle pose would be pretty difficult without a leg...

Anyhoo, I got to Munich, settled into my room, and set out to explore. I ate a light meal at a lovely little cafe called the Cafe am Beethovenplatz and then, headed to Air Yoga - the most beautiful yoga studio I have ever seen.

The class was incredible. Even better than I had hoped for. The inspiration for the class was finding strength within ourselves, so that, in turn, we can be strong enough for others. The saying goes that one can only love others as much as they can love themselves, and that is what this class aimed to prove. At first, it didn't really resound with me. I already give. I already volunteer. What could this class possibly teach me that I didn't already know?

But, as I was standing in an 85 degree room, an hour into an already really challenging class, I was standing, shaking, and sweating in Warrior III. We had already been balancing on one leg for what felt like 5 minutes, moving in and out of poses. I wanted to quit. I wanted to just stand there and wait for her to lead us to something more comfortable. But, then she made a statement that changed everything.

She said, "If you can't be strong enough to hold this pose for yourself right now, be strong enough to hold it for someone who needs you."

I tightened up and held the strongest asana I've ever held in my life. And, then, I lost it. I sobbed my way through the next 5 or 6 poses. I realized in that moment that even when I want to give up, when I feel like I don't have the strength to keep going, I HAVE to. For my husband when he is scared and homesick. For our kids, when they wonder why Daddy STILL isn't home. I need to be the one who stays strong and holds everyone up, because quite simply sometimes, they just can't.

I realized that I didn't want to hold that Warrior III, not because I couldn't, but because it was uncomfortable. My leg wasn't going to break. I wasn't in danger. I just didn't want to. And, in times of war, we don't have the luxury to quit when it becomes uncomfortable. We find the strength that we didn't know we were capable of, and we charge on. We become the warrior we didn't know we could be.

After this class, I am a changed woman - a stronger woman. A stronger wife. I've taken this theory away from the mat and tried to implement it into my daily life. It's made the first few days of the deployment so much easier, because I know that I have the strength to make it though this, even if it is uncomfortable.