Crossing the Line (from Friday, July 4)

We are staying at the foot of the Cheyenne Mountains at Jon's old house. He lived here from the time he was 13 until he went into the Navy at 18 years old. It is beautiful country with rich skies and almost constant sunshine. In fact, because of the scenery and weather, we almost moved here around 10 years ago and again around seven years ago. But it's been a long time since this has felt like home. For the first few years I was around the Price family, I knew that I could live here. It felt more right than anywhere else. And Jon passionately hated Cincinnati for the first few years, namely because of his newfound allergies. We were looking for a place, our place, and Colorado Springs seemed to be a possible almost-fit. We even looked at a few houses and tried out the job market a little bit.

But it was never 'totally right'. I think we were trying to make it fit because we were somewhat lost at the time. We were ready to give ourselves to something bigger than ourselves. We were ready to dive in, headfirst.

Home now is in the little gray house on Hickory Road, with all it's chaos and disorder, dust and half-done projects. I hate the half-done projects probably most of all because they are a constant reminder of all the things I've started and not completed. I don't mind the dust, as a matter of fact I think it's cute when the boys write their names across the television screen in the dust.
It's good to be away from home though because a) it broadens one's horizons and b) it makes one appreciate that there is a difference between lodging and a home, no matter how accommodating a host/hostess may be. It's just different.

Today was around 100 degrees. One must consume insane amounts of water here because dehydration sneaks in so quickly. The air is so dry that you don't even sweat – it evaporates off of you. It's the weirdest thing too because if you don't consume liquid throughout the night or immediately upon waking, by an hour after you get up, your mouth is sticky and it gets hard to breathe. Jack is adamant that he does not like the air here, that it's different and that it makes his chest squeeze and not breathe right.

As I said, we are at Jon's parent's home. Jon's father is a retired army officer. Something high up. They still live at the back entrance of Fort Carson, and still do almost all of their shopping and medical stuff on post. This is a military town. There is the huge Air Force Academy, Mount Norad, and Fort Carson. Military everywhere. Helicopters circle their home all night for training. I still can't get used to the tanks. It's a different world, and the other day I think I tinkered with the balance a bit.

Ginny, my mother-in-law, took me with her to her water aerobics class on base. (the instructor was drill-sergeant-like, which I am not used to, and she kicked our butts). We arrived in usual Ginny-fashion, 40 minutes early. As the women from the class came in, I noticed that they all were about the same: mid 60's – 70's, retired army wives from all over the world, and very well-to-do. We made small talk and Ginny was, as always, very good about including me in her circle of friends. We all were just beginning to be bff's when class was called to order. As we started to get in, a pregnant army wife walked in for class. She was nine months pregnant and in a bikini. This is when the trouble started. The retired army wives started firing and chirping about this young girl.
I was doing okay as these women went on until I heard this bomb being said about this pregnant girl in a bathing suit:

“It's like an injury to the eye”

I did the typical tirade on the beauty of pregnancy and life, but after all, I was dealing with a whole 'nother crowd. In this crowd, you 'cover it up' they told me. Not even a one-piece suit would do. You must have clothes, big, loose clothes, and not ever, ever 'show it off'.

I immediately lost my new bff's.

I think I did the right thing initially. It had gotten mean and out of control and I felt as if I was defending the defenseless. It was afterwards that I didn't do so well.

I let it stick.

I sat up that night and thought about how wrong these ladies were, not because of their opinion necessarily, but because of their attitudes. I thought of good comebacks. I thought of the arrogant looks on their faces as they bashed this young girl who simply wanted a workout in the sweltering nine-months-pregnant-heat . The girl whose husband is most likely deployed to Iraq for possibly the third time and who is probably going to be a single mom for the time being. I heard their lofty, rich, snobbish attitudes. And then I realized that I was as bad as they had been. Initially, I had done the right thing, but now I was headed down a path I know all too well. The path of the cynical one.
I told Jon about my attitude when we were brushing our teeth this morning and while I was brushing, he stood there brushing and praying. I told him to stop but he wouldn't. I hate when he's right and good and genuine and I am...not.

But the funny thing was that normally I would still be mulling this over, but today, I am 'unsticked'. Maybe it's being with family, maybe it's the mountain air, or maybe, it's because somewhere along the toothbrush prayer, I allowed myself to receive Jon's blessing and prayer.

But please, don't tell him this. It might go to his head or he might just keep praying every time I am trying to brush my teeth.