It’s that time of year. When Marine wives ’round the globe don their gowns, fix their hair, and slip into their heels while their guys button their dress blue uniforms and polish their medals.

And those of us who are too cheap frugal to go have our hair and nails done by Those Who Know What They’re Doing… simply do our own hair and nails:

Notice, of course, that I’m only showing my left hand. I didn’t figure you’d want to see the large SMUDGE residing on my right thumb. Classy, that smudge.

Also, I don’t offer any close-ups of the hair. I don’t know that it’s necessary to tell the story behind the hair. The freaking out once I realized I had to leave my house in thirty minutes, the fact that the sparkly clips I’d bought weren’t working, the kids waking up cranky and one of them screaming inconsolably while I tried to finish my hair with one hand while holding said little one, the fact that John was already IN San Diego for a class and I had to get ready alone… it might all be a bit much for you to handle. It was a bit more than much for ME to handle.

How ’bout I just sum it up by saying this: Next time you’re going to your big formal event of the year, don’t attempt to get yourself, a two year old and a one year old ready on your own. The stress just might make you want to rip your hair OUT rather than position each curl.

But once we got to the fancy Hyatt in the downtown San Diego Gas Lamp district, it was worth it. Before we were even in the door, the proper valets parking our vehicle, the ladies in formal gowns walking below sparkling chandeliers, Marines standing tall in white gloves and hats.

The ceremony itself was the best we’ve ever been to. The color guard marching in behind two trumpets, a snare drum and an old bass drum (look closely in the center of the above picture and you can see them), the Marine Corps band playing–no canned music–the tribute to our fallen service members. All of it. Awesome.

Goose bumps, I’m telling you.

I love a formal place setting. It makes me want to talk softly, smile sweetly and take tiny, delicate bites.

That last bit? Not hard to do when the dinner salad is the largest course and the formality of the evening dictates the main course be about the size of a pea.

A very delicious pea, though, I must say.

We don’t usually stay too late at the Ball, as the later the hour, the more rowdy the crowd becomes. But it’s always great for me to meet and get to know the Marines John works with, especially the people deployed with him.

Although, I’d have to say the my favorite part is watching all John’s Marines when they talk to him.

“Happy Birthday, Gunny. Nice to meet you, Ma’am. Yessir, I’m doing well. Enjoying yourself, Gunny? Have a good evening, Gunny.”

I love the terror respect.

And then I think, “What on earth? I’m married to a Gunnery Sergeant? Seriously??”

Oh, and the other fun thing was meeting the husband of a blog reader. It’s always a wee bit shocking to have someone walk up to you as you meander through the large hall and say, “Oh, hello, my wife reads your blog.” But, hey, lots of fun. (Hi, Celeste!)

For whatever reason, we didn’t take a full-length picture of the two of us other than the professional shot we’ll have back in a few weeks. Which is a big ol’ bummer.

But here’s the report, according to Troy, just before we left he and Merritt with our good friends Nicole and Jason: “Mommy? You a princess? You go to the ball class like Cinderella? You go with Daddy? He be like Prince Charming?”

So there ya have it. Cinderella and Prince Charming. Minus the wicked stepmother and glass slippers.

But the very best part of it all was hanging on the arm of my very own Prince Charming. He was dashing in those Blues.

Goodness I love that guy.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...