Twitter makes me a better military spouse

If you're looking at the blog's main page, you may have noticed my Twitter feed, under the "What I'm doing now" heading in the right-hand sidebar.

Those unfamiliar with Twitter always ask me the same questions -- first, "What IS it?" and then, after I've explained the concept: "Why do you do that? What's the point?"

First the "what": Twitter is a micro-blogging platform, based around the concept of sharing "What I'm doing right now" in 140 characters or less. Updates can be broadcast via text message, web page or RSS feed. Users "follow" each others' Twitter feeds and can reply publicly or privately to any other user.

This is an accurate description, it's also completely useless to anyone who hasn't used it! The difficulty, I tell them, in describing Twitter is that you can't say what it is without describing what it does, and it does something different for everyone who tries it.

For instance, I use it as part of the constantly updated content in my blog sidebar -- my sidebar content keeps the site active and lets me share day-to-day activities and links to other articles on the Internet without creating a full blog post. Because I can update Twitter via text message, I can update the sidebar from my cheap cell phone, without needing a computer -- as I did earlier today, when I sent a tweet during an impromptu visit to the zoo.

Twitter also updates my Facebook status, so one status update from my cell phone or any computer goes to three different places.

There has been another unexpected benefit to Twitter that relates directly to being a military spouse. My wife's Internet connection aboard ship doesn't allow her to read webmail or my blog and email is often intermittent -- but they haven't decided to block Twitter (yet; that may change by the time you read this, as it gets more popular). So as long as the Internet is available, she is able to check my twitter updates and see what it is Theo and I are doing during the day.

Crazy as it sounds, this tracking of our mundane family activities has become one of the most powerful uses of Twitter. Every deployment starts with good intentions to send letters and emails every day outlining the details our service member would want to know -- where the family went that day, what was for dinner, what was in the diaper after dinner -- but real life and real exhaustion often intervene.

The spouse at home doesn't always have a computer or pen & paper available to record thoughts in the moment. When we do get the time to write our deployed sweetie, we've all had those nights where we say, "Today was nothing special ... what am I going to find to write about tonight?"

I certainly forget from time to time that my mundane and boring is like a breath of fresh air for my deployed wife. Recording what we're up to makes Ruth feel that much closer to us every day. Even now that she's in port, I might forget something interesting or cute that happened that day, but as long as I send a Tweet, she will get the news. As often as not, she'll start the dinner conversation with "So, I saw that you went to the store (or playground, or zoo) today!"

And these are just the uses I've found for maintaining my own Twitter updates. I haven't even mentioned the value in following (reading the Tweets) of my friends, other people who live near me, bloggers and writers with similar interests, or celebrities and people in the media.

I'd encourage you to try it out, or share the unique ways you already use Twitter or other social networking to keep up with your friends and family.

Race day!

As I noted on Twitter, Ruth and I had a very successful Shamrock 8K this morning. Ruth has had old injuries that have kept her from running as well as she'd like and the last time we ran together, she covered about a mile and a half before she had to alternate running and walking. Last week she managed 4.5 miles in a little over an hour, so I was hopeful that with a combination of walking and running we'd finish in the 1:15 to 1:20 range.

It has been a beautiful sunny day in Virginia Beach, but waiting for the starting gun on Atlantic Ave. in the shadow of the oceanfront hotels, it was CHILLY. Our hands were a little numb -- we'd avoided bringing gloves or hats because we knew we wouldn't need them once the race started. There were 9,000 people running today, by far their biggest crowd ever.

I've run 5 miles in well under an hour before, so I told Ruth that my goal was to keep her running slowly enough that she wouldn't wear herself out. I know from running with her that as soon as she starts to run/walk, there will be more walking than running (not a criticism; I'm the same way), so we needed to avoid walking for as long as possible.

So we started off telling each other to slow down. I reminded her that of the people passing us, half of them were going to end up walking later in the race and we would pass them -- and the other half, we had no chance of catching, so ignore them!

Throughout the race it seemed like every time we were in danger of hitting a rut, something would happen to lift our spirits...

Midway through the 2nd mile, Annoying Evangelist Guy showed up along the course with his megaphone and 15-foot-high "ARE YOU ON THE HIGHWAY TO HELL???" sign -- I turned to Ruth, said, "You can't stop me!" and started screaming "WOOOO HELL! YAY FOR HELL!!" This kept Ruth laughing long enough to forget any discomfort.

(NOTE: I'm not actually a hell fan. But maybe he was, the sign wasn't very specific.)

A few minutes later, when we passed the 2nd mile marker, we made the turn onto the Virginia Beach boardwalk -- even though there was a pretty good breeze in our face, the sun and surf made the third mile fly by.

I completely forgot to figure out the difference between the official start time and the time we passed the starting line, so I wasn't sure how fast we were running until we passed the 2nd mile marker, 13 minutes after the first mile marker. At this point I felt like I'd been taking a brisk walk and Ruth was still feeling great -- even better when she realized this was probably the farthest she'd ever run without a pause to walk!

Between mile three and four, where I saw Ruth starting to flush and maybe puff a little, here comes the spectators with a cowbell. So obviously, I start yelling "THIS RACE NEEDS MORE COWBELL! REALLY EXPLORE THE SPACE!" Once again, laughter proved the best medicine.

After we'd covered three miles and even more so after four, I started doing my best to motivate Ruth, telling her that she'd done a great job, it was only a few more minutes ... and maybe most importantly, that if she stopped running we'd no longer be passing anyone. If encouragement is good, appealing to my over-competitive wife is even better!

We ran into one of Ruth's chiefs on the course and more than once spectators greeted us with cries of "GO NAVY!" We were both wearing Navy T-shirts and I know the acknowledgment gave Ruth a lift.

I'd obviously far underestimated how gassed she was in those final miles, because as the finish line loomed a few dozen yards in front of us, I looked over to see how she was doing ... and she was pulling away at as close to a sprint as either of us could manage! I had to catch up for us to cross the finish line together. I was so proud of her and so excited, I barely noticed the walk back to the car.

I looked over as we crossed the line, and the time since the starting gun was just under 1:11 -- so we probably made it in about 1:05, far ahead of what either of us had expected.

There was one sour note struck on that walk, which I posted about earlier. I didn't want to have the top post on the blog be an ill-tempered rant on such a great day! Thanks to everyone who has been wishing us well on Facebook and in the comments here. These were just the first steps of a longer journey -- we have a lot of improvement and even longer runs ahead!

The next race I'm registered for is the Virginia Beach Rock'n'Roll half marathon in September, which I'm running with my friend Rosanne. She's ahead of me in both distance and speed, so I have a lot of work to do. Of course, now that we've run one race, I'm sure there will be some shorter races between now and then.

In which reverse snobbery rears its head

Ruth and I ran the Shamrock 8K this morning -- details coming in the next post, but suffice to say it was a great race, we both ran well and had a great time.

On the walk back to the car, wearing my well-deserved finisher's medal and cooling down with a bottle of water, I remembered for the first time in a couple hours that I'd had no coffee that morning. We were up just after 6 and out the door at 6:30 to get Theo to his babysitter, so there really hadn't been time.

But now -- with a spring in my step, celebrating our victory over our old couch-conditioned fata$$ bodies, I knew what I wanted -- a large hot coffee from Starbucks, with a shot of espresso. I'm not usually that picky about coffee -- as long as it's more than warm brown water I'm happy to drink Dunkin', 7-11 or Wawa -- but I know what I really like, it's uusally the consistency of road tar and on a morning when I felt like I've done good for my wife and me, I decided I deserved what I really wanted.

Thing is ... we don't go to the oceanfront often enough for me to know where there might be a Starbucks.

I'd mentioned my craving to Ruth and that I was happy to wait until we were driving home, but she said I should go ahead and ask one of the police or volunteers directing traffic -- she didn't mind walking a little bit out of our way if there was one around and after all, they're around for the benefit of the race participants, right?

So I approached one of the clearly marked volunteers assisting a police officer at a traffic barricade. He's a big dude, a good bit older than us, holding his own cup of joe. I asked him if he knew where there might be a Starbucks nearby. He replied,

"Well ... I couldn't tell you where to find one, because I AVOID Starbucks." I thanked him and turned to the police officer, but he was on the radio assisting another pedestrian, so rather than bother him I moved on.

... and a few steps away, I started thinking a little too much about the tone of the volunteer's response and said out loud, "DUDE, What is your problem?" I told Ruth, "Wow, next time can you say 'I don't know' without the reverse snobbery?"

How would I look if this person stopped me in my own neighborhood and asked about a 7-11, but I sprinkled my directions to him with editorial comments about how I prefer either the local non-chain coffee house or Starbucks? What if I saw him buying Natural Ice Light in a convenience store and stopped him to explain how much I prefer Dogfish Head 90-minute IPA?

He'd come away from either situation calling me a pretentious, snobby yuppie jerk and he'd be totally justified in doing so.

The way I figure it, all these different outlets can co-exist because everyone has slightly different preferences. I'm not a purist who is going to claim that the market success of Starbucks means they have the "best" coffee out there -- my taste buds have never been good enough to make me a connoisseur -- but I like it and apparently a lot of other people do too.

But nooooooooo. Apparently there's now something WRONG with finding and expanding a market in a way that makes lots of people happy, if it doesn't make THIS GUY happy too. This guy didn't strike me as either a communist or a coffee purist, so I'm just going to stereotype him as someone who looks down on a consumer product because he doesn't like the people he sees consuming it. See also, "critics of FOX News" and "Dave Matthews Band haters."

So if you're reading this, Snotty Race Volunteer Guy, HERE'S TO YOU for trying to assert your superiority over a CUP OF FRAKING COFFEE, which I had in my hands at our neighborhood Starbucks not an hour after we spoke. I did tide myself over with a cup from THE WORLD'S SLOWEST MCDONALDS (another story that will remain untold), but for the record, it cost over a $1.25 for cup that lasted all of five swallows -- hardly the bargain of the year -- and I didn't like it as much as that Starbucks. Now go on TELL ME AGAIN HOW MUCH I SUCK.

Part of me feels silly for spending more time on SRVG than he deserves, but I keep wondering, who comes out to volunteer for something like this if they'd rather make snide, dismissive comments to the runners rather than be as helpful as possible?

If Snotty Race Volunteer Guy DOES read this, I urge him to get in touch with me -- I will buy you all the Folgers and 7-11 coffee you can drink next year at this time, if you promise not to "volunteer" again.

Because I love to talk about myself

I wanted to note that the blog is now featured in the "Blogs2Watch" section of CinChouse.com, a community site for "military wives and women in uniform." They have a great variety of hosted and outside blogs from other military spouses, check them out.

Thanks to Meredith and CinChouse for raising the exposure of us guys those women in uniform leave at home. I hope CinChouse readers enjoy what they find here; you'll find we're not only about belching, scratching and beer.

Ready to run

I haven't posted about it here, but around the beginning of the year I decided that the only way I was ever going to get my weight under control (6'3" & 240+ lbs. isn't morbidly obese, I carry it pretty well, but it's not at all slim) was to start running. I've lost weight running in the past so I know it works, and my body seems to like running; every time I've started, I've made good progress quickly. Why did I ever stop? Well, like everything else, there's always an excuse: I get bored easily. Winter comes. Work stress glues me to the couch with a pint of ice cream.

This time, not so much. I'm already noticing the changes from being in better shape and I like them a lot. I can't quit.

I've been tracking my progress with a combination of the website WalkJogRun and Facebook, so my friends see what I'm up to and encourage me. If you check out the routes tied to user "ja3" in the 23507 zip code, you can see some of my runs. I'm going 4-5 miles consistently, at least three times a week.

Speaking of my friends, I have to give a lot of credit to Rosanne who has become my remote training partner. When we were able to run together once, we managed 8 miles, farther than I've ever run before. Knowing that you have to tell someone what you're doing and explain why you DIDN'T run is a great motivator.

This weekend Ruth and I are running an 8k over in Virginia Beach, my first race. Ruth had sworn off running for a long time because of old injuries, but she's a natural-born athlete, so I'm sure she'll be dusting me soon. Right now I'm likely to be a few minutes faster than her, but my plan is to stick with her pace and hopefully push her along. If we finish in under 1 hour 15 minutes I'll be ecstatic.

Wish us luck!

Dinnertime

I've never really gotten the hang of dinnertime with Theo. We've always wanted part of our routine to be sitting down to dinner with him, but until recently he really needed an early bedtime. Once Ruth returned to the long days and occasional evenings of sea duty, a family dinner was almost impossible to put together.

I'm sure I could have forced it to happen, but I'm just not the SuperDad I'd like to think. Putting a real meal on the table without help at Theo's neediest time of day has always been beyond my skills; even if he was willing to give me a half hour or hour of time without reaching for knives and hot pans, it doesn't seem right to me to make the provider of the feast eat leftovers by herself when the firm's junior associate is happy to eat whatever leftovers I can warm up for him.

Even back when Ruth could be home early enough to distract Theo while I cooked, dinner has always been the most relaxing, satisfying part of the day for us. Since lingering over a relaxing dinner isn't really compatible with toddler eating habits, all three of us have been happy to have the adults eat after Theo went to bed.

Theo has recently made the big move to a later bedtime; instead of demanding to be put in his crib by 6:30, he won't even think about falling asleep until almost 8, and his dinnertime has also moved later. Now that the choice is dinner with Theo at 6 or finding ourselves starving before we can have dinner by ourselves after 8, the stars have aligned and we're eating together most of the time.

So tonight I adapted a recipe from the Cook's Illustrated "Best 30-minute Recipe" book. I love that Cook's gives me techniques, rather than just recipes -- and even with some additions, this recipe wasn't much over a half hour from cutting board to table. Theo sometimes has problems with creamy sauces, but he scarfed a bowl of this in no time.



Changed from the Cook's recipe: I started with their recipe for "Creamy Skillet Penne with Mushrooms and Asparagus." I substituted whole wheat Trader Joe's penne for regular penne. I added chicken sausage, onion, frozen peas and some spices. I omitted the shallot and dried porcini and just used the fresh mushrooms I had. I used half-and-half rather than heavy cream because it's what I had on hand, so I had to use some cornstarch to thicken the sauce. Instead of just water, I used half water and half chicken broth.

Creamy Penne with Sausage, Mushroom and Asparagus

1 TB olive oil
8 oz sausage (this time I used chicken sausage with sundried tomatos from Trader Joe's, which was precooked; you might need more if you start with raw)
10 oz sliced mushrooms, white & baby bella
salt and pepper
1/2 medium onion
pinch of red pepper flakes
pinch of dried sage
dash of dried thyme
6 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 cup dry white wine
3.5 cups of liquid; I used a combination of water and chicken broth
1 cup half-and-half
8 oz penne
1/2 bunch of asparagus
1 cup frozen peas
grated Parmesan cheese

Heat the oil in a 12-inch nonstick skillet over medium-high heat, brown sausage and then add mushrooms, onion, 1/2 tsp salt and seasonings. Cook until mushrooms are browned, 8-10 minutes. [Prep remaining ingredients while mushrooms cook.]

Add garlic, cook for 30-60 seconds. stir in wine and simmer for one minute.

stir in water, 1/2 and 1/2 and penne. Increase heat and cook uncovered, stirring often until penne is almost tender and liquid has reduced, 15-18 minutes. [I threw together a salad and some garlic bread while the pasta cooked.]

Add asparagus and cook until tender, a few minutes more. Add frozen peas and drop heat to medium-low.

[At this point I decided the sauce wasn't going to thicken the way I wanted so I added a slurry of cornstarch and milk that brought it right together.]

Off heat, stir in Parmesan, salt and pepper to taste.

Welcome "Spouse Calls" readers

Terri Barnes, the "Spouse Calls" blogger and columnist for Stars and Stripes, linked to my blog this week as part of a series of posts and columns about military husbands.

Although I don't update this blog as often as I'd like -- in the daily competition for my attention, the toddler always wins -- I agree with my buddy Tom that as a category, the male military spouse/military husband/Navy-wife-with-a-penis is becoming visible as something other than a curiosity. Being part of another curious category that's finally getting their due (The stay-at-home daddy), I've decided I should be writing about these issues more often.

So that you don't have to sort through all my past posts about beer, my cute kid, my foul mouth and beer, here's a couple of my past posts that do go into military life. I welcome any and all discussion of these issues. Hunt around and you'll see me talking about our recent PCS move, my fun times as a stay-at-home daddy and my homebrewing. Thanks for visiting!

My Denial Closet

On Military Husbands and the "wives club"

I would be "ZOMG MY KID IS SO PRECOCIOUS" guy

Paul and I were just discussing Facebook and Twitter -- what they're good for, why do we bother, what do we find amusing about them.

We started discussing the stereotypes and cliches used by lazy or bored people when they don't have anything else to put in a tweet/status message, and it led to what I think is a fairly comprehensive list. Go to his blog and check it out.

And because Paul invoked "I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THE SOUND OF MY OWN AWESOMENESS," I'm going to post this picture. Enjoy.

A father's proudest moment

My son just said the word "sausage" for the first time, while enjoying some with dinner.

I'm overcome with emotion. Now we start working on identifying bacon...