Hi Everyone,
Since my travel back from Fort Bliss to Fort Sill took slightly longer than I expected, I’m also delayed in getting the blog done this week. Don’t fear, I’ll get one posted in the next day or two!
Final Week
I’m wrapping up my final week in Afghanistan. It’s strange. I’m ready and excited to get home, but I’m sad to leave good friends I’ve been working with. The transition process is draining. There is so, so much I’ve learned here and so much of it was new. I can say for a fact I learned new things every single day being an artilleryman working in an Air Force world. My replacement is ready to go, and I hope I’ve passed him all the information from my brain and experiences. The good news is he has an amazing team to help him, even if I didn’t get to transfer every single tidbit of knowledge!
In my last week, I’ve said tons and tons of good-byes. I’ve visited the post office several times to mail things I don’t feel like carrying. I’ve made calls and used help to search flight times to see when I get to leave. I’ve packed and cleaned. I’ve caught up on sleep and I’ve swiffered my room. I’ve given away items and sold some. I’ve kicked myself for not sending more through the post office. I’ve balanced my thoughts on whether I would prefer to be stuck in Afghanistan or Kuwait, as if I really have a choice in the matter! I’ve happily introduced my replacement in meetings and felt happiness when I saw the team functioning just like clockwork without me. I sat in the wings and giggled uncontrollably with another lady as we waited for our replacements; the video brief telling them they might hear the incoming fire sirens “a few times” during their deployment. I’ve transferred the files from my unclassified computer that I need. I’ve finalized a letter of recommendation for a young man I deployed with 15 years ago. I’ve enjoyed meals with friends, soaking up the last moments of chit chat and fun stories, talking about the “good old days” when we were still stationed up in Kabul at the Resolute Support Headquarters. I’ve made plans for how to stay in touch with the friends not on Facebook.
And one memory I want to keep, that was special in its own special way, was watching the royal wedding. I know, it seems funny. But being in a NATO environment, there are things that are very special to certain countries. I think some of the Brits scoffed about only the Americans being interested in the wedding, but that was not the case for us. We have a liaison officer that works on the floor with us and she insisted the spare televisions showed the wedding. There is another British officer who works with us who decorated his whole office with flags and served tea, coffee, and cakes. And the British Air Commodore who I report to, who is equivalent to a U. S. one-star general, was busy watching on his television in his office when I went to get him for our scheduled “tour” of our work area. He and his aide told me immediately we all picked an awful time on the calendar! So instead of immediately heading out for the tour, I sat in his office and watched the procession of the princes. How many other Soldiers get to say they watched that in a Air Commodore’s office? After the princes arrived, we headed out to the floor to start the tour. The team briefed him well, and then we paused our briefings so we could watch the bride walk down the aisle, starting them again when they met at the front of the church. Just a special, surreal moment which is special in a NATO environment!
I’m ready to start the next adventure, but I’m always going to hold this whole deployment experience with my special memories.
Almost a Year Gone
Sorry for the delay in posting, but it’s still Thursday in the far western reaches of the US. I’m going to say that counts!
I normally start to write on Sunday or Monday and add or edit during the week. However, this has been a busy week and I hadn’t had the chance to get things prepared. I wanted to write about Norway’s Constitution Day, which just happens to be the 17th of May. I have so many amazing memories of celebrating Norway’s equivalent to our 4th of July, but I am going to save that for another entry now.
Last night was my farewell from the CJOC. I’ve been working in the Combined Joint Operations Center (CJOC) at the NATO Resolute Support Headquarters for the past year, first in Kabul and then in Bagram. Most of the people here come on six month tours, some nine, and very few do a year like I did. In talking with other friends here who have been here, I can’t recall the last person to leave who had been here longer than me. A few of my supervisors have left recently, who were also on yearlong tours, but they had arrived just a few days to a week after I did. So for a while now, I’ve been the “greybeard” as one Colonel called me, of course laughing while he said it.
It’s bittersweet to leave. I desperately miss my family, friends, my bed, my house, my pets, cooking for myself, being able to drive, roller derby, and weekends! But here, my team has become a family. There are women here who support each other, no matter the rank. There are personalities here in the CJOC that I don’t have at home. Ryan recently told me that while he was home on leave, tending to his new pecan farm in Texas on his tractor, he said to himself, “I’m a farmer like Marny!” Leroy and Jimmy, law enforcement personnel from opposite coasts in their civilian lives, maintained a good spirited rivalry which was fun for others to egg on, while they weren’t listening to stand-up comedy provided by Leroy. Beta tells the driest jokes you’ve ever heard, but the delivery is spot on, complete with the anticipatory look while he waits for the joke to register.
We joke because we need to. It can’t be all strict and proper every second of the day or we wouldn’t last this time away from our loved ones. One day, a Lieutenant Colonel came in yelling about our weapons and a check we needed to do, insisting that everyone do the check outside at a clearing barrel. One of our Colonels came in after the proclamation and was told by a Major that he couldn’t check his weapon inside because of what the Lieutenant Colonel said. So the Colonel dropped his magazine, made sure his weapon was safe, and charged it repeatedly, with a smile on his face, until the Lieutenant Colonel came running out of his office to see who had disobeyed him. I couldn’t contain my laughter, along with many others, while the Colonel sat there smiling at the Lieutenant Colonel. Once the Lieutenant Colonel realized who it was, he just shook his head and walked back to his office. Good natured jokes and jabs like that are the heart of an organization, and make for fun stories as new people trickle in every week to work here.
One joke I liked to tell was about Julius. He liked to help with the scouts coming on camp and he learned how to make balloon animals for the kids from another NATO officer leaving. He practiced in the CJOC, making replicas of items we saw on a daily basis, hanging them up in our row. If anyone asked, I would tell them that Julius had made them, but then also include that he was doing online clown school and that was his practice. So the online clown school thing stuck, and now Patrick is doing it. Well, he taught himself how to make a balloon monkey with YouTube, but close enough!
At my farewell, I credited our NATO partners for not only speaking a second language, but being militarily fluent in a second language. I’m amazed every day by that. I was able to tell our Afghan partners that I hope we can help them have a safe country for their families and friends very soon. I thanked all the Air Force personnel I worked with for teaching this Artilleryman about all things Air Force. (I know more about aircraft now than I ever thought I’d know in my life!) I thanked my leaders for being the sort of smart, caring, and knowledgeable leaders that make organizations work well. I thanked my friends in the CJOC for becoming like family. I reminded everyone that the CJOC is a team. I wanted to read a bit of a poem I found recently, but I felt like I was using too much time, and I also felt a little nerdy reading a poem! So I’ll share it with you. It makes sense to me here, which I like. So in closing, here is a poem I found by Steve Maraboli called Dare To Be –
When a new day begins, dare to smile gratefully.
When there is darkness, dare to be the first to shine a light.
When there is injustice, dare to be the first to condemn it.
When something seems difficult, dare to do it anyway.
When life seems to beat you down, dare to fight back.
When there seems to be no hope, dare to find some.
When you’re feeling tired, dare to keep going.
When times are tough, dare to be tougher.
When love hurts you, dare to love again.
When someone is hurting, dare to help them heal.
When another is lost, dare to help them find the way.
When a friend falls, dare to be the first to extend a hand.
When you cross paths with another, dare to make them smile.
When you feel great, dare to help someone else feel great too.
When the day has ended, dare to feel as you’ve done your best.
Dare to be the best you can –
At all times, Dare to be!
The Old Haymow
It’s gone now; the barn torn down a few years ago and sold for scrap.
My sister and I snagged some awesome doors and barn wood before it was all sold and taken, so we have some physical memories as well.
On one side, there was a lean-to and giant doors between the silos, since the barn was built into the side of a small incline. The elevator to get the hay in during the summer seemed to reach up to the sky though, going through the highest window at the front end of the barn.
It was where my Bestemor and Bestefar stored hay and straw for the cows they raised when they moved from Norway to Wisconsin to farm.
It’s where an OLD plow sat, all metal and rust, with stories only it knew.
It was where I learned, at a young age, that what I thought was a giant rat is really called an opossum.
It was where I learned that opossums will not ALWAYS play dead if scared. It was where I learned what a Dad will do to make sure his daughter is safe.
It was where I learned chores from a very young age, probably around 8 to 10 years old. I learned to climb the ladder into the haymow from the barn below, learning to overcome my fear of heights in some situations.
I learned to confidently go fully into the dark level of the haymow before I could turn on the lights. I learned a dislike for electricity as I got shocked when using that light switch. I learned how a wooden stick was not a conductor, and was the best way to turn on the light without getting shocked.
I learned how to throw bales of hay and straw down to the barn below, using the chutes. I learned how to clear the chute safely if a bale got stuck and didn’t make it all the way down. I learned how to tell my friends about the dangers of the chutes and how to stay away from them when they came to visit.
It’s where my cousins and I would play house on a rainy day, climbing a long wooden ladder set at a 45 degree angle from the Wisconsin mud and grass outside into a warm cozy pile of golden dry straw. We would hang up our wet jackets to dry while we played house in our giant private playhouse.
It was where I got in trouble (I think I was the ringleader) for one of my favorite haymow memories. I think it was friends and my sister and brother. My cousins may have been there too. We made a “pool” out of straw. There was still a decent amount of rows, but there was a good distance from the rafters to that level of straw. The hay was higher and we could climb to the rafters from climbing up the rows of hay. We made a box or walls out of straw bales and used most of the bales that had already broken their strings by accident to fill up our “pool” with nice soft straw. We may have had to break one or two extra ones to help with cushioning, and that was definitely wrong to do, because broken bales in the haymow were harder to get down the chute and to the places in the barn they are needed. But man, did we have fun. We jumped off the rafters into the straw pit we’d made. I’m sure there were lots of giggles and squeals that alerted my Dad there was something odd going on in the haymow. I just remember getting in trouble for doing it. It definitely wasn’t safe to be jumping off rafters, but there are definitely worse things on the farm! Who needs a trampoline park when you have a haymow?
It’s where I graduated from unloading the hay from the wagons outside and sending it up the elevator to being inside the hot haymow, stacking the hay expertly in rows up to the highest points of the roof. We would take breaks in between each load, jumping into the pool to cool off, then struggling wet bodies back into sweaty jeans as we heard the tractor coming up the driveway with another load of hay. The chaff would stick to my wet swimsuit and skin, but it would be rinsed off again after the next load.
It’s where our dog “Puppy” kept her new litter.
It’s where I worked on my fear of heights when I would have to fix the giant mixer I was in charge of. We mixed the feed for the cows in a giant drum in special proportions of nutrients and that became my job. I had to stay up there and watch it all in case the silo stopped working or something clogged. While I waited, I would do mini workouts meant to enhance my soccer skills – step ups on a stump of wood were my favorites.
It helped me learn, gave me great stories to tell, and made me stronger.
It’s gone now, the haymow and the barn, but the memories are left, and what amazing memories they are!
Frustrations and Silver Linings
This has been a trying week. There have been lots of changes where I work and the fighting season has kicked off. No kidding – the Taliban actually announce this stuff. And kick off we did. Monday was a day that will probably go on record as my longest and most stressful. I’ve dealt with other issues before and have had go-mode on for hours at a time. For some reason, Monday hit hard. There were multiple attacks across the country, targeting civilians, journalists, US forces, Afghan forces, Georgian forces and children. Yes, children. I can’t even comprehend this, yet the terrorists seem to think it’s fine.
I’ve always felt like an optimist, but it’s been difficult lately. I have been keeping a gratitude journal each day to help me remember to be thankful and optimistic. I only filled out half the days in April; I haven’t even set a page aside yet for May. I need to get back to it!
Here is my list of frustrations lately, followed by the gratitude I want to and feel I should express –
- We lost one US Soldier and two Afghan Soldiers on Monday and my heart aches for their loved ones
- It could have been much more, with all the personnel injured as well. It appears all the injuries will heal, thank goodness. My team worked hard to provide support. My supervisor provided much needed guidance to me and made sure I was handling things well, with genuine concern.
- I couldn’t spend my one year anniversary with my husband
- I have a loving husband who cares about me.
- I have so much stuff in my room to pack to get ready to head home and I don’t know where to start!
- I have people that care about me and have sent amazing things. I have the money to buy things to entertain myself while I’m here. I can gift things to others, and maybe make a few dollars back on some items!
- I don’t have time to work out like I want and I’m not getting enough sleep.
- My work ethic is strong and I’m helping my work team, including some newer personnel, get settled in to their roles since I will be leaving soon.
- My project I wanted to have completed by the time I arrive home is not on track
- I have the vision and creativity to plan and execute this new idea I haven’t seen yet. I am thankful for my Grandma teaching me how to crochet. I am thankful for the opportunity when I’m off work to work on it and slow my day down.
I feel like it’s so easy every day to get frustrated and down as a natural reaction. It’s harder to see the good in things. I don’t always like to take the easy way though, so now I’m off to get my gratitude page for May started!
(My project that I spoke about is really, truly something I am super pumped about. I’ve been telling people I work with about it and even though it’s a crochet thing, the guys I work with seem to genuinely think it’s as awesome of an idea as I do! I can’t wait to share it with everyone – there will be an entire post dedicated to just this project. I can’t tell any more about it yet, because it is a surprise for my husband.)
Do you keep a gratitude journal? What are you most thankful for this week?
Random Reflections on Running
Running has been in my life for a long while now. I have encountered nay-sayers and developed both fun and funny memories. I’ve gained strength and confidence; I’ve had it shattered. I have amazing stories with friends, places, and memories.
I thought of joining the high school cross country team – but the pull of soccer won and I was the boys’ soccer team manager throughout high school.
I have a diary entry from the first time I ran the road I lived on. LaFollette Road, named after Fighting Bob LaFollette, is about 1 to 1 ½ miles long and consists of 3 very steep and difficult hills. I remember the sense of accomplishment after running it without stopping the first time.
I remember a time when I was home and ran the Norsk run in Mount Horeb. I had done it before, but that time I was SLOW. I am pretty sure I was one of the last people on the course. I started to doubt myself and then I realized something that has stuck with me since. I was out running. I was doing a race and being healthy. I was doing all that and there were very few people who had entered and were running. So then, instead of doubting myself, I was proud of what I was doing, even if I was doing it very slowly!
In college, when I started ROTC, the fact that I was not a fast runner was definitely highlighted. On the “Ranger Challenge” team, I was the slowest. I did learn that I never quit though!
There was the time I told a supervisor I was training for a marathon. He told me, “but you don’t have a runner’s body!” I think he might have followed that with good luck or something, but I don’t recall anything after the initial statement.
When I did go run said marathon, a person helping cheer along the way kindly asked around mile 17 if I had walked the whole race. I was shocked as I replied, “I AM running!”
A few years later, my friend Bobbie and I entered the OKC marathon relay competition in the military/fire/police category as I was military and she was a military spouse. We each ran a 13.1 mile leg and won a trophy for 3rd place!
We trained together for years, pushing little Kady (who is now in college!) in the stroller and taking turns pushing her up that horrible golf course hill on Fort Sill. …while collecting golf balls that didn’t stay on the range.
I like to joke about running around the block. I grew up in the country and currently (well not RIGHT now, but when I redeploy I will) live in the country in Oklahoma. Oklahoma country roads are a “country mile” so when I run around the block there, it’s a 4.5 mile course. In Wisconsin, they are windy roads so I ended up around 8 miles there if I remember correctly. In both places, the views are beautiful!
The country miles in Oklahoma make marathon training super easy, even if you aren’t carrying a mile tracker with you!
When I first moved to Oklahoma, I liked to run up Mt. Scott in the wildlife refuge. I may have been crazy? Now I enjoy walking it with derby teammates and our dogs. Mac and I worked up to interval sprints prior to her leaving for Basic Training, but I haven’t run the whole (1.75 mile) mountain road in ages!
When I first move anywhere, running is my adventure and how I get to know places. In Norway, the adventure was always beautiful. I would imagine that the struts on bridges were giant frames to the most beautiful landscape views a person could ever see. My niece Kamryn ran across one of those bridges with me when she was about 9 years old. It was great to be able to run with her and she was fast and did not give up.
After a Physical Training test last year, I had an NCO tell me I was fast. I was flabbergasted! Then I realized that not many officers near the end of their 20 year careers are still even able to run, so I’m thankful for that…
I distinctly remember the very first running steps I took after having a partially ruptured Achilles which resulted in a blood clot. I was on blood thinners for 6 months, crutches for 5, and couldn’t do any physical therapy while on the blood thinners. I was honestly worried I would never be able to work out or run or do any sports again. I bugged my physical therapist on every visit after I could start with questions on when I could run again. When he finally relented, I had strict instructions. Walk for 5 minutes and run for 1, which I could repeat up to three times on my first outing. I remember those first steps, being terrified I would feel my muscle rip and explode again – but it didn’t! It was the best three minute run of my life. After that, I slowly worked my way back up to a half marathon, training in Norway and running in Oklahoma City right after my move back to Fort Sill. I logged a personal worst time, but I was so happy to do it!
For my 40th birthday, my sweet derby teammate Half Pint decided to support my ridiculous decision to run a half marathon. The Tulsa marathon that year fell on my birthdate and I thought it was a great idea to run it. I’d been battling some pretty serious issues that some docs said were related to Lyme’s Disease and others said were not. My muscles would feel heavy and give up. My breathing was labored. I’d be ridiculously tired and could sleep 12-14 hours straight on a weekend, wake up for 4 hours and then fall back asleep for another 14 hours. But I trained. Slowly. And she stuck by me. There is no way I would have finished that race without her! That race was probably another personal worst, though I honestly don’t remember our time. I remember the cold, the tiredness, and the good times we had that weekend though, which made for a pretty great birthday. I’ve also vowed, as of right now, to not ever run a half marathon on my birthday again!
Women and Sports…in Afghanistan!
When I first arrived at Resolute Support Headquarters, I was forwarded an email about a program at the US Embassy about Women’s Empowerment called the Mission Speaker Program. It sounded neat, so I decided to ask if the program lead thought roller derby might be a good thing to talk about. She said sure and we started to put the plan in place for me to come speak.
We had our date locked in. I was scheduled to give two speeches. One would be translated into Dari and the other Pashto. Then the government shut down. For those of you who haven’t had to deal with a government shut-down, it messes up things a fair amount. Most civilian employees back in the states are not allowed to work, and do not get paid. The shutdown affected government employees and programs overseas as well. I got an email that we would have to postpone due to the shutdown – I didn’t ask for specifics – if she couldn’t work or if the systems could not be paid for. We rescheduled for the end of the month, close to the start of my R&R leave. I was able to do the Pashto presentation right before I went on leave, but didn’t get the chance to go back the next day as I had gotten the notification I had to fly out that day.
When I returned from R&R, the section I work in had already relocated to a new post elsewhere in Afghanistan. This made getting to the embassy a little bit more difficult, but not too much. I rescheduled the brief to coincide with my out-processing of my previous location, tried to schedule a helicopter ride, and then just ended up going to the passenger terminal bright and early to catch a space-available flight out when I wasn’t able to schedule a flight. Thank goodness the personnel at the terminal were helpful when they learned I had a 10 am speech! They originally only had space for me on a flight that left after my speech start time, which was not helpful. I ended up with a big group leaving early in the morning and made it to Kabul in time to enjoy breakfast, talk to some old friends still there, get some mentoring from a great American Colonel, and get to the Embassy with time to spare.
For my first speech back in February, it was a snowy day in Afghanistan and only one dial-in location was available. For my second speech, there were three locations that dialed in and the window I could see out of showed bright sunny skies. I worked with an interpreter for both speeches, but was happily surprised when at least one question in the Q&A session came to me in English from women in the groups. I know the other thing that made me so happy was the amount of women that told me they also participated in sports. I had gone into the speech thinking not many of them would have participated in sports, but I was definitely wrong! They asked me questions about being married and who has supported me through my life; they asked me what my favorite sport was and what was the most difficult.
One question got to me though – I was worried about my answer and how it would be taken, and if I could even answer it in a helpful manner, not knowing their specific situations. During the second speech, I was asked by one group of women what I would suggest for them to be able to do sports when they don’t have facilities available to them. There are many things I can take for granted as an American woman. I know I can go to a gym and can work out as I wish. As I worked up an answer in my head, I was also thinking to myself – Are women allowed in gyms here? Are there gyms here? Can women go to a gym if there are men around? – there are so many things that I don’t fully know, but I still wanted to answer their question. I started with what I did know. Derby. That’s what the speech was mainly about. I explained to them that even with a sport that is internationally recognized, teams still run into issues finding practice space due to misconceptions about roller derby and the athletes or the worry that our equipment and skates will ruin floors. I was also inspired to tell them about another sporty woman I know, Candi Bridges of EyeCandi Fitness. She has a big old gym in Lawton, Oklahoma, with amazing classes and such a family feel – I’d venture to say everyone feels right at home when they go there for the first time. (I was honestly worried to go there the first time because all I knew was that she was a fitness competitor and trained other fitness competitors – you know, the sparkly bikinis, spray tans and heels people? – and I was worried for probably the first time in my whole life that I would NOT fit in at a gym, and I’m a person who is never nervous about gyms. I’m so glad I went though!) Anyways, Candi started her whole business in her basement if I remember correctly. I recall her telling stories about starting at her house with just a couple clients and she has grown her gym into a spacious area with tons of great instructors and clients! So I told the women asking me this question – how to do sports when there is nowhere to do them – to think small, start small, and work together to help each other. I told them they could get together as a pair to work out at someone’s house or in someone’s yard. I told them anything is better than nothing.
I was worried that I didn’t really answer their question adequately. I was worried I didn’t give them good enough options. When we were all done and signed off, I mentioned that to the interpreters who looked at me a little bit shocked. They said that was a perfect answer for them and they hoped it would also inspire them to start small, which did help me feel a little bit better. Because that is what sports and working out are all about – start small, find a buddy, and just do something!
Notes: For the photos and screenshots I’ve used, I have blocked out the faces of the attendees for their safety and privacy due to the public nature of this blog.
For more info on EyeCandi Fitness, check out their website at www.eyecandifitness.com.
It’s NOT a Stage Name!
Let me tell you about derby names.
Picking a roller derby name is more serious and difficult than naming a child. …I mean, I’ve never had to name a child, but hear me out!
Not only are you picking a name, you are probably working harder to make it clever. You have to pick which part of your full derby name will be your nickname or “quickname” – what your teammates will call you on the track as they yell and cheer for you! You have to make sure an announcer at a game won’t butcher it. You have to check databases that track all derby names to make sure you haven’t stolen someone else’s name. You have to register your name in said databases. If anyone else on your team has the same nickname, you normally can’t use it.
Sometimes you can use a name if you live far away from someone else that already has it, but that’s kind of a jerk move. You may not ever plan on moving from your location, but you never know if that person whose name you took may have to move to your area. Then you end up being the jerk that stole their name they had before you, but you’ve been in that league longer. Don’t be that person. I haven’t had a derby person steal my name, but there just happens to be an adult film star that stole my name a couple years after I’d starting using it. I guess they don’t check the derby names database. It has drawn more fans to my derby page, but it unfortunately draws really dumb people who don’t understand why a woman in roller skates and a helmet, who looks nothing like said porn star, doesn’t want to respond to their sometimes vulgar messages. I try to keep it cheery with a “thanks for being interested in roller derby” and just hope natural selection works its wonders on them.
When I first joined derby, I had to start thinking of a name. Some women already know what they want for a name before they even lace up their skates. I didn’t even really know about derby names prior to my first practice! I knew I wanted to highlight my Norwegian heritage, so I muddled over names that included Viking and Valkyrie. I looked for input from team members and trusted friends. One of my Dad’s friends used to call me Norskie Pete when I was young, so that was a contender. Voluptuous Viking was high on the list. When I checked the databases, I notice a bunch of Valkyrie combos. There were less with Viking and I was leaning towards Viking Barbie, which was not taken! I liked that it highlighted sides of my personality, the girly lover of make-up and all things pretty AND the beast who (once she learned to skate) would mess you up! (Yep, when I joined derby I didn’t know how to skate, but that’ll be another story.) It was the perfect balance of tough and sweet.
Since my name wasn’t really a crazy one or particularly clever, I decided my number would be. At the time I started playing, our league, the Women’s Flat Track Derby Association (WFTDA) allowed numbers to be up to four characters which could include numbers, letters and symbols. I chose 36DD for my jersey number, which always led to some strange looks, comments or questions when we went out and about in uniform. Later on, WFTDA changed their rules for numbers to only use the numbers. Characters could still be included, but would have to be smaller than the numbers on the jersey. Since I knew double Ds could NOT be small, I changed back to my old soccer number I wore through high school and college, 11. That felt more “me” anyways, and through some weird doodling, I ended up with a really cool autograph too!
I figured my short name would be Viking. I wanted to highlight that more than Barbie. There was something I hadn’t planned on though. A very young fan base! Kids LOVE derby. They are always our biggest fans. They come and enjoy the game without worrying that they don’t understand every rule, something their parents tend to have a little more difficult time doing at that first game. And little girls love Barbie. There’s just something about a teammate’s (Hell’n Agony) child screaming “Barbieeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” like a crazed pop-idol fan that makes you start to love being called Barbie even more. I mostly leave it up to my teammates. Some call me Barbie, some call me Viking, some call me VB, and some even call me Marny, saying my real name is just as cool as or cooler than a derby name! While most teammates introduce themselves with their nickname, I always introduce myself with my full name and let others decide which part they want to use. One of my friends, Trigger Trixie, always introduces herself as Trigger. She is on a high-level team now and when we hear an announcer at a tournament call her Trixie, it is super weird!
Derby names are picked for several reasons. Some are based on famous people. We have a SCARlett Johachett on our team who we lovingly call Scar. We have some who have cleverly based their derby name on their own name. Half Pint is Half Pint Brandi, Molly Meet Your Maker picked her name based on the alternate versions of Marie (and some awesome alliteration too!) and Elle-beau Macaroni used parts of her first and last name to make up Elle-beau. Of course we call her Mac, but Agony’s daughter also uses the cutest version of her name and calls her Macaroni, which is awesome! Fictional characters are a good platform to work off of. Machete Poppins did that. And sometimes your name is just a way of being… like our teammate Squirrel!
I’ve been lucky on my current deployment to an Army girl working with the Air Force, who is pretty big on call signs. All the officers have their call signs, which are pretty awesome. I work with Killer, Monster, Thrill, Curly, Beta, Evil and Nubbin to name a few. There’s always a good story to go along with their call sign, which is pretty fun to listen to. I feel so completely humbled that my Air Force brethren have officially given me my derby name as my call sign. It’s great to be walking through our large work area and hear, “hey Lieutenant Colonel Viking Barbie!” After my teammate’s child screaming my name in glee, that runs a very close second in the awesomeness department!
One difficult thing we experience with derby names in our derby world is that real names do not exist! Facebook is hard. Seriously hard. You draw a huge blank when it comes to trying to remember someone’s real name! When someone at an event sees you are a roller girl, they will inevitably come up and say, “oh, so-and-so used to play on the team/plays now with you” and they are usually met with a blank stare and the follow up question – “do you know their derby name?” Thankfully we have a small enough team that someone in the group can usually figure out who they are talking about after a few questions, but it isn’t always easy!
If you want to try to generate your own derby name for fun, http://rollerderby.namegeneratorfun.com is a neat site. Feel free to comment and share what it came up with for you! If you want to look at the names already picked and being used on a track near you, check out Derby Roll Call at http://www.derbyrollcall.com.
I hope you were able to learn a little more about derby names today! And just remember, as athletes, derby women will not be happy if you ask them what their stage name is. It’s a derby name! You will never ever go wrong calling it a derby name.
Kveldshimmelen, Fantastisk, og Koselig…
…just some of my favorite words!
I love languages. I can’t speak anything but English fluently, but I’ve learned enough snippets of other languages that I manage to meld in a French word if I’m trying to remember a Portuguese phrase. Of if I try to remember a word in Arabic, I can only think of the Hawaiian term. Languages are interesting and I love trying to see where the word I’ve learned fits in with the English language.
Of course Norwegian is my specialty.
I would sit underneath the dining room table and quietly listen as Mom spoke on the phone back to Norway to her parents, my grandparents, known in Norwegian as Bestemor and Bestefar. It was always easy for my friends to know which set of grandparents I was talking about. I had Grandma and Grandpa and I had Bestemor and Bestefar.
I was only three on our first visit over to Norway and the story I’ve heard is that I could understand everything said in Norwegian but refused to speak. My friend/babysitter while I was there, Kjersti, was walking down the street to come get me to play but it was dinner time. My back was to the window. Bestemor was trying to make sure I wasn’t distracted and would eat so she told my mom in Norwegian that she was going to go to the door and tell Kjersti to come back later. I quickly replied that I wanted to play now! It was then that they knew they couldn’t get Norwegian past me. My understanding now isn’t quite as good, but I can, for the most part, pick up the gist of a conversation in Norwegian.
I had hoped my three years living in Norway would allow me to improve my fluency in Norwegian but my friend pool was very diverse – Norwegian, Brazilian, Icelandic, Danish, Italian, Swedish, and Canadian to name a few – English was our common ground. I did learn more being around family members there who spoke Norwegian, but then I went back to my home in Stavanger and back to the internationally used and recognized English.
My current deployment has been fun for learning new words and languages. My friend Jussi from Finland taught me that I need to scowl my eyebrows when I say Finnish words because I’m just too darn happy to say them right! The Georgian Soldiers that provide our security and scan ID cards taught me hello, thank you, how are you, I’m fine, and and how are you in Georgian. I looked up how to respond to how are you with I’m tired which always made for a good laugh.
The interpreters and Afghan liaison officers I worked with taught me how to say thank you and the basic greetings in Dari. Those were harder for me because I couldn’t get the words to make sense to me like Germanic languages do, but I’m happy to have learned them.
So back to the words I shared at the beginning. Those are just a few of my favorite words in Norwegian. Kveldshimmelen means evening sky and I feel it has such a pretty ring to it. Fantastisk is just what is sounds like, fantastic – but what a great version of it! Flinke. This is a word you hear many adults praise children with, which I think makes it even more special. It means clever! And lastly, koselig. It doesn’t technically translate to English, but it’s a general feeling of coziness, love, and being comfortable.
What are some of your favorite words? Please feel free to share!
Hi and Welcome!
My first blog! Wooooooo – totally not nervous at all! I ALMOST had to post this from my phone, while traveling to one of my work locations in Afghanistan, which was starting to make me nervous. But then I did get my helicopter flight out that I was hoping to catch! Bonus for you because you’ll get to see some neat ‘get to know me’ pictures!
Hi everyone, thanks so much for stopping by. This is my very first blog and I have so much to share with you! First, I’ll introduce myself if you don’t know me. I’m an Army officer, currently stationed in Afghanistan. My specialty is Field Artillery and I’m working in the NATO Resolute Support Headquarters. I’ve been in the Army for 18 years. I’d planned on four, but I’m still having fun! In the Army, I’ve been stationed lots of places and held many jobs. I’m a unique one in that I started Artillery and then moved to Transportation and Logistics, but then moved back to Field Artillery. King of Battle always had my heart – I had to go back! I’m a new wife and instant bonus mom to two beautiful girls. Getting married before a deployment is not easy, but my husband has been pretty strong about it. I know it’s not easy being the one at home, worried all the time. I have a huge list of hobbies and activities I like and ways to define myself. When I started brainstorming how to tell you who I am, here’s what I came up with – new wife, stepmom, Army, artillery, NATO, aunt, sister, daughter, farm girl, soccer, rugby, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, hula dancing, Norwegian, cooking, baking, hiking, CrossFit, weights, makeup, calligraphy, yoga, retirement, tackling debt, roller derby, crochet, crafts, bullet journaling, budgeting – all in no particular order! How do I put that into words? I feel like I may have to take more time to introduce you to all the different parts of me and all the crazy things I do or this first post will get way too long!
I honestly, deep down, feel like I lead a normal life, but I also realize there are some interesting things I do. I remember very much disliking my chores that I would have to do every night (and mornings and nights on the weekends) while growing up on a dairy farm. To be fair I didn’t despise them all the time. But I do remember not ALWAYS enjoying them! My first clue into the whole “things that other people do are awesome” thing came from my friends and cousins when they would visit or stay overnight. They would come to the barn with me and help with chores. And they were always pumped to help. Like they thought it was the coolest thing ever! At first, I’d wonder if they were a little crazy, but then I would realize, yeah this is pretty neat and nothing like what they are used to. It seemed to always give me a new view of my mundane farm chores, and made me feel like the boring and tedious chores I had to do were actually something special.
So because of that, I want to share with you. I want to share my journey. Partly because I’m in an interesting place – not just my location being deployed, but also in my life. I’m close to retirement, newly married, and learning how to be a step-mom and integrate into a family dynamic that’s already established. I’ll very soon be working to pick up my derby skills after a year off, working to figure out how to combine two complete households into one, and continuing to work on a long distance relationship during our new marriage as I continue active duty service while my husband and kids are established where I grew up. Another part of me enjoys writing and sharing and I figure that even if no one reads this, I’ll have a record for myself and my family. I absolutely love heritage and family history and I feel like this is a great place to capture that.
My plan is to start with posting once a week, every Thursday. As I leave Afghanistan and get settled back into a more “normal” way of life (side note – I’m so excited to have a weekend again! Don’t even get me started about what I’m going to do with my first weekend in a year! Yes. My deployment work days are 12 hours a day, every single day. The only days I’ve had off are when I took R&R and when I got to take a three day trip to one of the other provinces here in Afghanistan to visit my brother, who is also in the Army. Thank goodness for being a farm kid and learning that grind from the start!) I will look at adjusting my posting schedule. Whatever I do, I’ll keep you updated for sure.
I would love it if you all to get involved too. If you have questions, please feel free to ask. I have a comments section and you can contact me via email as well through the “Contact” form. Maybe your question will become the topic of a new blog post! You are free to disagree with me about what I post and share – that’s completely normal and I expect everyone to have their own opinions on different topics. I do have a rule though. I expect everyone to treat each other with respect on my blog. I will not tolerate name calling or personal attacks.
Some of you may be wondering about the name of the blog. Din Favoritt means ‘your favorite’ in Norwegian. Feel free to head over to my “About” section to read more about the name and why I chose it.
That’s all for now. Thank you so much for reading and allowing me to share. I hope to see you again next Thursday!