A little aloha in August

I looked over my shoulder at Seth, sprawled out in the passenger seat of our rented minivan. He was singing along with the "Mandatory Marley Hour" on the radio. Over his shoulder I could see the lush green folds of the Ko'olau Ridge and below them, the cerulean blue of the shallow edges of the ocean before they faded darker, into so many shades of blue I mentally ran out of names for them. It was hard not to relax and melt into the "island-ness" of it all.

It was good to be back in Hawaii, even without the whole Walters clan. The travel to get there is so miserable I tend to dread the trip- and had been particularly worried about this one, at 30 weeks pregnant. But we had promised to be at Mike and Marlena's wedding, and figured it would be our last long plane ride for awhile at any rate, so we sucked up the banged-up knees and sleeplessness and jet lag in the name of a "babymoon" and a little aloha.

And it was utter perfection. Well, OK, the cabin at Bellows we stayed in could've used a/c in August (and a good can of Raid anytime), and I couldn't stave off a little jealousy at Seth's evenings of Longboard Lager with friends (this seems particularly egregious at weddings, which were not meant to be enjoyed with Fresca), and we did- as always- wind up doing a ton of driving, criss-crossing the island to see people and do things at a pace most vacationers probably find incongruous with a tropical paradise. But the wedding was gorgeous, we did squeeze in an awful lot (vacationing Walters-style, I call it), and we wound up feeling insanely lucky that we had gotten to spend some downtime together and some quality time with the Bustamantes. Who were really the highlight of the trip.

Sara and Daniel were hospitable as ever, juggling their crazy schedules around ours, and we couldn't get enough of the sweet, effervescent Lehua, who was wild about her "Uncle Set." (She did save a few snuggles for me, and was beyond cute patting my stomach and su prima, but the two of them were thicker than thieves, and it was basically the most adorable thing ever.)

We didn't wind up doing as much sleeping in as we had planned on, but we did get to go ocean kayaking and Sara talked us into shark cage diving, which was pretty epic (and, hilariously, Seth's first experience with a snorkel.) Sara and I did some hiking, while Seth deep sea fished (and shore fished, and pier fished), and- because the Bustamantes really are the best tour guides around- Daniel even fished up some giant sea turtles for his second snorkeling experience. We made a pilgrimage to Teddy's Bigger Burgers, and- sadly, Missy- they whipped us at bocce. Although sunset bocce at Ala Moana park is tough to beat no matter the score.

I've left a billion things out I'm sure, having only recently survived the horrific trip back (arriving just in time for rush hour traffic!) and tackled the mountains of sandy laundry and appellate briefs waiting on this end. I'm not even ready to comprehend the yardwork that awaits... with a long weekend about to kick off, we may "think about that tomorrow," a la Scarlett O'Hara.

Suffice it to say, our August dose of Aloha was just what the doctor ordered, and- although we miss the Bustamantes a ton and wish they lived closer- are committed to our current vow not to take any more lengthy plane trips for a long, long time. The timing really couldn't be better on that.

The photo of the week is maybe my favorite one ever, of Lehua and Uncle Set at Ala Moana.

 

Oh, and in the midst of the whirlwind that has been our life lately, I almost forgot! Seth got his way (by doing all of the unpleasant legwork, for which I am eternally grateful), and Baby Nieman has a new car. A shiny Ford C Max that looks only a little Mom car-ish and gets 40-45 mpg. It was incredibly hard to say goodbye to the Escape, with 150,000 memorable miles of it and which I was actually living in when I fell in love with Seth in Colorado, but it was time. And I have to admit it's pretty nice to have air conditioning and satellite radio.

And although- in a Major Vacation Miracle- my iPhone survived a dip in the waterfall, the case and cord for the good camera were not so lucky, so those pictures will have to wait to be downloaded. The (unedited) ones from my phone are here.

Pre-vacation vacation? Yes, please.

Of course we needed a vacation... before our vacation.

Or maybe Seth had just caught the fishing bug, and I was always happy to tag along for an adventure.
Either way, we headed out Friday to explore Deep Creek Lake, a closer-to-home fisherman's paradise Seth had discovered in one of his new fishing magazines. To convince me of the need to skip out on pre-Hawaii packing and yardwork, he made reservations at a cool ski resort and took care of all the plans. And took me to dinner on the way out of town at Lucky Corner, a Vietnamese place in Frederick I had been dying to try. Who could resist?

We had a terrific weekend. We slept in and ate great. Seth caught a couple fish (and would've made Missy proud, filleting them right on the back of his pickup truck) and just generally loves driving a boat around a lake. I played trophy wife, kayaking and taking myself to brunch (nutella crepes!) and sunning myself on the boat with a book. (Seth's suggestion that I help him out by "netting" his fish was met with zero enthusiasm.)

On Sunday, of course, it poured rain. I was less than thrilled. It was a terrific reminder to myself that one should always ignore the "one more cast" plea, no matter how adorable one's husband is while making it. Because that's when the sky opens up.

Soaked to the bone, we eventually made it back home, way too late to pack or mow the lawn. So it's been a madhouse of a couple days. (Although Seth did buy himself a new fishing kayak, so we had to squeeze in time for a beautiful morning out on the Potomac breaking it in. Complete with a few disasters, but those stories will have to wait.)

Because now, once I extricate myself from work and throw a few pregnant-lady muumuus in a suitcase, we're Hawaii-bound! Hard to believe we have a dinner date with the Bustamantes tomorrow night!
(The photo of the week is our attempt at a selfie on the boat.)

Escape to "wild and wonderful" WV

There was a time in the not-so-distant past that a day or two with an out-of-town husband meant late nights catching up with girlfriends over cocktails in high heels. Tonight, however, finds Seth on the road to West Point with Ashton for the Grad Marchback, and me on the couch with a Whole Foods salad and a bottle of mineral water, wearing one of Seth's old tshirts. Which may or may not even be clean. I'd be tempted to wallow in nostalgia for my wilder days, but it is Shark Week, after all. There are worse ways to spend a Sunday evening. 

Not to mention that we had, as per usual, managed to wring every usable second of fun out of our weekend, and I am beat. We escaped the summer gridlock and heat early Fridayand headed for the cool, uncrowded green hills of West Virginia. (I had leftover yurt reservations from a girls' weekend that didn't pan out, and we had started to think in terms of our weekends of spontaneous getaways being numbered.) 

So, uncharacteristically (for me, especially), we jumped in the truck and headed for Summersville Lake without a plan or a packing list. Which meant that, of course, I ran out of clothes and we spent a lot of time hoping it wouldn't rain (it didn't) because of a dearth of dry ones. 

But it wound up being an idyllic weekend. The rain drummed softly on the roof of our dry, cozy yurt at night (I was hoping to win Seth over to mine and Missy's love affair with "camping lite"), and the days were cool and cloudy (Seth's favorite, although it didn't do much for my pre-Hawaii tan plan.) We had such a nice time trolling the lake with our rented Triumph, I forgot-mostly- to mourn my current inability to cliff dive off the beautiful sandstone cliffs or scuba dive the clear, green depths of the manmade lake. 

I played (knocked up) trophy wife for much of Saturday, stretching out catlike in the bow with my burgeoning belly on display, thumbing through "The Economist" and fetching sandwiches from the lunch I had packed. When I started to feel impossibly lazy, I took myself kayaking in the no-wake zones, enjoying the quiet solitude and glass-like water. Seth fished obsessively and had to be dragged out of the water (I made a mental note to thank Missy for the "one last cast"s), although we didn't get much but this tiny rock bass thanks to low stocking levels and (in my opinion) lethargic-looking bait. 

Still, we enjoyed each other and the downtime, and agreed that it had been a terrific and much-needed weekend getaway. And that Summersville was quite a discovery. And that- I'm a sucker- we would try our luck at Deep Creek Lake, a little closer to home, next weekend.

Tomorrow starts the third trimester! Crazy to think about. We had stopped on our way to WV Friday for pizza and a beer at the Blue Mountain Brewery in Afton, a place we had last been to- and loved- when we were first dating, when I first moved to Charlottesville and not long before Seth left for Afghanistan. We couldn't help but marvel at how far our lives had come since that September afternoon just two (two!?!) years ago, and raise a glass to our good fortune. We could never have imagined... but feel lucky indeed. If you make a toast this week, join us in celebrating life's unexpected- but unimaginably wonderful- twists and turns. May your lives be as full of surprise adventures as ours.

The photo of the week should be called "recipe for a perfect day."

Another year, another TJAG Picnic

I pulled into the driveway yesterday, and a ridiculously sexy guy (a sweaty Seth Nieman, of course) was mowing my lawn. There were flowers on the table too. Lucky me. Not that he's not always terrific, but Seth does seem to know when long days and painful commutes and curtailed fun (courtesy of Baby Nieman) start to chafe. And makes up for it. (He even engineered a movie night and watched "The Other Woman" with me. If you must see it- it's pretty bad- let me know and I'll send you our copy. It is not a keeper. Seth is a champ for getting through it, even if he is running a pretty serious tab in the "picked a horrendous movie" department.) All in all, I scored in the husband department.

Plus he makes me laugh.  On one particularly long day, we picked up takeout. I was craving the momos at my favorite Nepalese place, pan-Asian food being particularly well-suited for takeout dinners. I thought Seth would pick something off the extensive menu there, since he claims not to be very picky. (A dubious claim in the ethnic food department, if you ask me.) Instead, he opted for crabcakes and shrimp from the Bethesda Crabhouse down the street, a combo not designed for takeout boxes. Our eclectic dinner looked like this. It cracked me up.

Which is a good thing, because boy, did I need support and patience and a few laughs this week. It was hard to wrap my mind around it, but it was somehow TJAG picnic week again. It sounds totally ridiculous, but my office- populated by high-powered attorneys possessed of multiple graduate degrees who manage hundreds of clients and thousands of deadlines- completely shuts down operations for a chunk of the summer every year to plan and execute one of the JAG Corps' premier annual events. The TJAG Picnic. It's not just any picnic. It requires months of planning, numerous meetings and committees, powerpoint presentations delivered in dress uniform to general officers at the Pentagon, and last year very nearly caused the nervous breakdown of a seasoned attorney who has argued death penalty cases when he found out at the last minute that the moonbounce did not have adequate insurance and the park rangers were not thrilled about the animals.

Yes, really. This year, we had one-upped ourselves and added a llama to the hugely popular germfest known as the petting zoo. But it was supposed to rain. At the last minute, Seth and I found ourselves hauling up to Fort Meade in Friday (gridlock) traffic to rent all of the tents available just in case. Of course we didn't wind up using them, and the picnic was sunny and went off without a hitch. (Well, minus the grill catching fire and some colonel's wife complaining that the cheese selection was inadequate for her Costco hamburger patty.) All things considered, it was a rousing success. Or at least we had survived another one. (Rather, I had survived. Seth had made an appearance and sipped whiskey in Solocups with the grilling committee while I served hot dogs and averted dodgeball crises and fixed the popcorn machine.) We were both in bed by 8:30pm. On a Saturday.

We got a slow start Sunday, but eventually dragged ourselves out of the house for an adventure. Overflowing with magnanimity this week, Seth had finally agreed to go to Annapolis with me. I think it's a beautiful town with a killer waterfront. He, on the other hand, has never been able to see past the presence of the offending Naval Academy. We went for a bike ride on the rails-to-trail B&A Trail, which was cool and green and uncrowded, and then it was my turn for selfless gestures. I took him to Pusser's (a favorite from my BVI days) and watched him drink painkillers (a ridiculously strong but delicious rum drink) on the waterfront while I added soda water to my glass of wine to make it last. We had a terrific evening relaxing at an outdoor table with live music, so it was well worth the watered-down sauvignon blanc

So all's well in Nieman Paradise. Baby Nieman now kicks hard enough that you can actually see my stomach move, which fascinates us sitting on the couch at night. She's apparently the size of a head of a cauliflower and weighs two pounds (Seth's bet is 2.5, of course). Hard to believe next week we'll be 7 months into this thing! I still feel terrific and get around pretty well, although I did start wearing a maternity support band when I run. It is not at all sexy, but definitely helps. Of course the quest for the perfect one had us in stitches one night, as my thorough search initially turned up this and this. Seriously, what is going on there? I somehow ran across this too. The baby (and pre-baby) industry is creative if nothing else.

The photo of the week is courtesy of the TJAG Picnic Photobooth (and a very indulgent husband, who was clearly less than thrilled with being asked to pose, complete with props.) Made for a pretty great picture though.