Our Third Anniversary!

3 years
36 months
1,095 days
26,280 hours

since we became Mr. and Mrs. Donald Winn.


Due to the war in Iraq, we have only had the pleasure of being together for half of those three years, so we cherish every day we have in each others presence.

Outside the Frankfurt, Germany Temple

They've been the best three years of our lives!

Where We're Moving!

For months, we have both (okay, mostly me) been on pins and needles awaiting the official word on where we would be moving this summer. Would we be going to Fort Carson in Colorado Springs, or back to Fort Lewis? Maybe they'd give a 3-year-vacation with Hawaii! Then, there was the less likely options of Maryland, Alaska, or North Carolina. But, with the Army, we wouldn't have been surprised to end up in the Deep South or Asia!

Well, rest assured... we've been stationed somewhere decent - one of our top 3 choices, in fact!





Are you ready for this?





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Fort Lewis, Washington!

Yup, we're coming back home! YAY!
We'll be moving this summer. No specific dates have been given, but we'll get more details soon!

Adam and Mom's visit - Pt. 2 - The Epic Battle

I still have no idea how this wrestling match started, but it lasted a good 15 minutes.



(notice the Go-Gurt and frozen can of Orange juice. The fight started while they were in the freezer, apparently.)





...Moroni was very worried.

Adam and Mom's visit - Pt. 1 - Thanksgiving w/ the Sr. Missionaries

On November 21st my mom flew in to visit us here in Germany. A few days later, on the 26th, Donald's best friend Adam arrived.
The following day was Thanksgiving, and dinner with the missionaries was only the beginning of our adventures!!

Critters in the Hood

Twenty minutes ago we received a knock on our door from a woman we go to church with. Apparently she's had an odd smell in her car for the last several days, and traced the scent to the hood of her car... and found today that it was, to her worst suspicions, a dead animal. She doesn't "do" dead animals(and either would I!), she told Donald, and with her husband being in Iraq she desperately needed help extracting him from the top of her engine. We stood several feet away while Donald did the dirty work. The whole process took under 2 minutes, and it was absolutely hilarious.

Gross as it seems, it was definitely the highlight of my weekend.

Oh, and Donald deemed the creature to be chipmunk. Or maybe a squirrel? It was hard to tell, I guess, and I certainly wasn't going anywhere near the thing to make a positive ID on the species.

RIP, Mr. fluffy rodent thing.

Spider in the Cupboard!

The storage in our kitchen is limited, to say the least. The designers of our military housing unit managed to make some the most awkward kitchen space I've ever encountered. One such storage nook is directly to the left of our dishwasher. I'll spare you the confusing verbal mapping, but suffice it so say that we have one very LARGE storage area that extends along/behind the dishwasher and has one very small cabinet door as an opening. What results is a complete lack or organization and me just throwing objects back in there, and then blindly groping around for what I need by feel.

Yesterday afternoon I needed the ceramic bowl/insert for our slow-cooker, so I could pop in a pot roast. After a full minute of groping, tugging, and maneuvering with my hand gripping the inside of our HUGE slow-cooker dish, I was able to pull it out and swing it up onto the counter.

What I found (pictured above... with hand at spider-level to illustrate just how GINORMOUS THE STINKER WAS) made me scream. Loudly. A lot. I quickly grabbed the lid and slammed it on top.

I still can't figure out what scared me more... the spider itself, or knowing that my hand was shoved inside that dish right next to it, recklessly fl0pping about, just asking to be bitten. I very well could have TOUCHED that beast and not have known it. Terrifying, right?
I left it in there until Donald came home from work several hours later, at which point he bravely took it outside and dumped it into the grass (and, against my very loud and adamant wishes, he did NOT step on, and grind it to bits)




I cooked the pot roast in the oven that night.

He's Home He's Home He's Home!!

Okay, so he's actually been back for 11 days, but a lot has happened between then and now... so it definitely still feels like I just picked him up!

The ceremony was held at midnight on the 26th, and as of 2am-ish Sunday morning, he was back home!

...more pictures to follow!

Halloween

Our first holiday back together was fantastic!

He, true to character, went as a devil. I was his fallen angel. Not creepy at all, I know... but we sure looked cute, right?







With so many people having only been in town for a few days, all plans were very last minute. Ultimately, we ended up having a casual BBQ at our house. A handful of people came over with their kids and we stuffed our faces while playing Rock Band.

My Puppy and My Blankie

What, at the age of 22, helped me last 15 months alone in a foreign country?

My dog, and my blankie.

Yes, a blankie. A flannel baby quilt, made by my grandparents when I was little. Every night it's there with me. You must know, though, that this isn't "the" blankie I carried around as a toddler. No, anyone who knew me up through my teenage years is probably familiar with my original "purple blankie" I used to tote everywhere. That blanket, unfortunately, was accidently sent to the goodwill by a friend's mom when I was 17. It was falling apart long before its' untimely demise, though, and I still carry two small scraps of flannel, inside my scripture case, that had fallen off of it shortly before it disappeared. As much as I miss it, the blanket I've used since then has served as a worthy replacement. Yes, at the age of 17 I couldn't come to terms with life without a blankie. I didn't cope and move on as most nearly-adults would. Instead, I found a suitable replacement. Both were made by my grandparents, both having been broken in by years of wear, tear, and filth by yours truly.

From an early age I compromised with myself about when I'd give up the blankie. Jr High, I decided, would be my coming of age. When I turned 12, though, I decided that High School was a more appropriate time to cut the habbit cold turkey. High School turned into graduation, and from there I decided Marriage was a good time to give her up. After all, who would want to share a bed with a dingy piece of flannel between he and his wife? Granted, he may tease me from time to time, but Donald hasn't made me give her up.

I also told myself I'd never be the sort of person who'd talk to their dog in full sentences. And yet, here I am. Moroni knows my deepest secrets, and his big, mischievous brown eyes have never failed to comfort me during my long-winded complaints and tears.

Without my blankie and my 110 pound lap-dog, the Boogie Man surely would have gotten me by now. I'm grateful for them both.

And I don't plan on giving either up any time soon.

The Curb Trick - Iraq

Donald's a riot.

Check out this video of him in Iraq, from several months ago:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7agGR9vgyqk