One More for Love The Story: Chapter 4 - Wherever You Go

The rumors were true. Airman Morey was married and had been for over a year. I’d done many things I regretted and had regretful things yet to do, but pursuing a married woman was not one of them. As it turned out, my moral stance wouldn’t be challenged any time soon. Shortly after my initial in-processing, I was scheduled for a six month training course on the other side of base. The course was designed to better prepare me for my job on the flightline (which I definitely needed). It was also during this time that I would return to the person I fought so hard to get away from.

Before I joined the military, I had a conversation with a good friend of mine named Ben. Ben was one of the only friends I had at the time who had it all together. He had spent a semester with me at Stanislaus State before transferring to U.C. Berkley to pursue a degree in literature. He is still one of the most curiously talented individuals I’ve ever met. He seriously looks like Jack Black, but shoots like Ray Allen…amazing. But, outside of his basketball talents, Ben was also one of the most level minded people I was (and still am) blessed enough to have in my life. In an effort to convince him that taking on the Air Force was a good idea, I told Ben all the reasons why I wanted to leave.

“I’m in too deep.” I began, “trust me, my only option is to catch a plane to anywhere but here. “ I was slumped over in my chair with my head down. “I quit the track team. I’m going to school full time, working part time, and partying five days a week. Every dime I make goes into bar tabs, beer runs, rent, and student loans…in that order.” Sitting across from me, Ben leaned in attentively. “I feel like I wake up every morning a thin shell of the person I know I’m was supposed to be.”

Ben continued to listen as I went on to tell him how I needed to get away and pursue something that would give me the discipline to control my habits and straighten out my life.

After hearing my case and taking it all in, Ben simply said, “Steve, remember, wherever you go, there you are.” This short Confucius quote didn’t mean much to me then, but I would eventually find it to be truer than I ever could have anticipated.

In my months of training at Dover, I quickly became more comfortable with the military lifestyle. As the fear of basic training started to wear away, I began to find my comfort zone and eventually adopted the popular military lifestyle of “work hard, play hard”. I did both. In class I was trying my best to learn everything I needed to know. I made a decision that since I was going to be stuck with this job for the next couple of years, I might as well try to be the best at it. I was our class leader, studied hard, and had the best test scores. Then, when the weekend came, it was time to go out and play.

Kevin the Texan (who was actually a pretty good guy, had never lumberjacked, but was a farm boy from Texas) was in the class with me. We got an apartment together with one other roommate. He was another airman named Davin Smith, but everyone called him Smitty. Our first couple of weekends away from the controlling grip of the Air Force base Kevin, Smitty and I checked out the local bars. We went out to the bar that looked like a small house and the one down by the lake. We met a few people, most were military, and the whole scene came up short of the true adventure we were seeking. It didn’t take us long to decide to expand our horizons.

After some asking around and a quick internet research, we decided to make our way up to club Egypt in Philadelphia. We’d heard the drinks were cheap and there were a lot of girls there on Friday nights; what else could you ask for?

We were rife with the scent of deodorant and body spray as we packed into Kevin’s Jeep Wrangler and made our way to Philly. On our drive, (as guys typically do) we talked about the game plan.

“It’s too loud in clubs. I always feel like I’m shouting at them. No one wants to be shouted at.” I began, “My strategy is to find a quiet place to find out her name and get to know her.”

“Never gonna happen.  There's no quiet place in a club bro. Hang out with me at the bar. Girls gotta get drinks right? When someone comes up to order, just start talking to her.” Responded Smitty, with a strategy of his own.

“What if she is getting the drink for her boyfriend or something?” I replied.

“What if she isn’t?” He said back.

“You guys are making it too complicated”, Kevin interrupted, “just tell her, ‘Hey there girl, come on over here.’ Then take her out to the dance floor. Show her a good time and the rest will take care of itself.” That was easy for him to say. He could go out there and dance like Elaine Benes and girls would be all over his cowboy style and Texas charm. Once we got to the club, Kevin handed the keys over to me as it was my turn to be the designated driver.

Right as we entered the club, the repetitive bass from the quick tempo techno music beat in my chest like a raging heart arrhythmia. The place was loud and packed with people from wall to wall. There were a few different bars and a couple of dance floors each featuring a different genre of music. As we settled in, each of us came to his own different club character. Smitty, for instance, was a “Bargoyle”. He headed straight to the bar, found a perch to sit on, ordered a drink, sat and talked. At the bar was where he was when we got there and at the bar was where he would be when we left. He liked drinking and meeting interesting people, so Bargoyle was definitely his club persona. Kevin was the exact opposite. He was an “Entertainer”. Being an Entertainer meant: if there was karaoke, he was singing. If there was a pool table, he was playing. And, if there was music, you better believe he was dancing. I, by default, was a “Roamer”. My attention span was too short to just sit at the bar and talk. I couldn’t dance (unless you count the running man, which hasn’t gotten anyone in with the ladies since 1985) and I couldn’t sing (no matter how hard I try, all of my songs come out as if Cher was singing them with strep throat and an Adam’s Apple). This left me with the option of either being a “Creeper” (the guy who stands in the middle of the dance floor, drinking his beer through a straw, watching everyone else dance, and probably has a mirror on the toe of his shoe) or a Roamer. An added benefit to being a Roamer was that it allowed me to keep track of my friends. From my experience, as drinking and talking or drinking and dancing increase, so does testosterone, resulting in a fight. If you’re an Entertainer, you’re usually the one in the fight and if you’re a Bargoyle, you’re usually egging someone on. As a Roamer, I always kept an eye on my boys to make sure if things got out of hand, I could get us out of there.

Our time at the club went well. I never found a quiet place to sit and chat with one of the ladies (Smitty was right, the place was louder than standing between Fran Drescher and an Abrams Tank), but there was hope for us yet. As I was making my rounds toward the end of the night, I saw Kevin had been dancing with the same group of girls for the last hour. After the club closed, I met up with Kevin, Smitty, and a group of three girls on the side walk by the club entrance. As we started with introductions, we were startled by the blaring of police sirens and the screeching of tires. Five cop cars sped in and surrounded the club across the street. There were people sprinting out of the club doors and police officers chasing them down on foot. I became suddenly aware of our exact situation. We were in downtown Philly at 2:00 a.m. with three girls we didn’t know. As Ben would say…there I was.

**Tune in Monday for Stacy's blog post with a giveaway!

Hope and Joy

I haven’t always been a “glass is half full” kind of girl. In fact, up until about five years ago, I was always the “glass is half empty, but hopeful someone would come along one day and top it off for me” kind of girl. In mid 2004, my world was rocked and the aftermath was nothing but an empty cup. I was lost…and instead of having a soul searching moment during that low point in my life, I decided I would do what every other non self respecting woman would do in the situation and I made another wrong decision, to be more specific, a Mr. Wrong Decision. Christmas of 2004 was heart wearingly miserable and awkward. Although I put on my happy façade, my emptied HOPE tank was coming to a puttering halt. You see, I had it all wrong that year and for many years before that. I was the girl that needed and wanted to feel true love and would constantly try to fill the empty void in my heart with the next “best” relationship. It was the Marine Corp man, the college party guy, the Army man turned husband, and then THE REBOUND! (Insert scary movie music here).

For many Christmases, although I had experienced moments of happiness, I hadn’t felt nor discovered true joy. I like to think of 2004 as my breaking point year and 2005 was my buildup year. In January 2006, I had hidden blessing after blessing and they knocked me on my knees until true Joy was revealed to me. It was my year of discovery. I realized what was missing in my life was indeed the best relationship, my relationship with Christ. Once I experienced Him, I experienced joy and peace like I had never known before and it poured everything into my Hope tank then ran over into my cup until it was half full. This year, I experienced a miracle in the birth of my little girl. I look at her daily and think I have been undeservingly blessed. She brings me a happiness I have never experienced and it makes me wonder...what would the world be like if we didn't have hope and joy? What would it be like if we didn't have Christmas? what would it be like if we didn't have Christ?


During a time of year when it is more difficult to cope with loved ones lost, relationships broken, and financial hardships, I hope you may find Hope and Joy.



*My favorite ornament this year. I can't imagine the hope and joy Joseph and Mary felt in that moment of Jesus' birth...

*one of our most special ornaments














With Love,

Stacy Hart

One More for Love The Story: Chapter 3 - At First Sight

The idea behind military dress is uniformity. However, even though we were all wearing the same woodland print camouflage, she didn’t look like anyone else on that truck, on that base, or that I had ever seen in my entire life.

My glance lasted but a second before I redirected my eyes back down to my boots. Although I was sitting just five feet away from her, I was certain she would have left me just as breathless from a hundred yards away. I could hardly register everything I was feeling. My heart started pounding both fast and hard as if a boxer was in my chest jabbing a speed bag then coming through with a strong right hook. A rush of nervous energy hallowed my stomach like a bongo drum and sent a mild chill racing through my body. The feeling was so aggressively unfamiliar that I thought I might pass out, yet comforting in a way I’d never known.

I looked up again, casually scanning from one side of the truck to the other in an attempt to hide my true intentions. I told myself to keep the pace and simply scan right past her, but as my gaze met her face, I locked on. She was in mid-conversation and I’m sure she didn’t notice, but what was only a few seconds of staring, felt like a moment frozen in time. She was gorgeous. Her posture on the bench was upright and allowed the fit of her uniform to lie close to the curves of her body. Her soft brown eyes batted and full lips moved as she spoke to Selena with humor and confidence. Just by the way she spoke I knew she was ambitious, intelligent, classy and drastically different than any woman I’d ever met. To not draw attention to myself, I broke my stare and continued my scan around the truck.

In some part of my day dreaming, the Texan with jackhammer arms, who smelled like Stetson, and radiated confidence, had entered the conversation with Selena and my dream woman. All three of them were laughing, which made me think he said something hysterical like, “If they’d let you drink lava and wrestle gorillas, I’d win Survivor every time.” The conversation broke my fantasy and immediately made me self aware.

What was I doing to myself? How did the odds escape me? Not only was every other guy on that truck thinking the same thing that I was, but every other guy who was into beautiful, confident women with limitless potential…military or otherwise. I’ll let you figure out the ratio on that one. Even if we throw the odds aside and it was just her and I on that truck, where would I even start?

I practiced a few realistic lines in my head.

“Hey baby. No no, it’s not halitosis, I just didn’t want to risk shaving my teeth this morning”…yeah that’ll get her phone number.

“Funk and Old Spice is my natural scent”…smooth.

And finally, if she’d seen me before I got on the truck, “I wasn’t clinging to the wall petrified out of my mind back there. I was just feeling my way around the building…literally”.

I don’t know why I got myself so worked up. Girls like that are for airman like Lumberjack Tex and his chiseled chin. I’d eventually find my match somewhere. We’d probably meet behind a K-Mart or at the circus, but, hey, she’d be mine.

As the truck slowed to a stop in front of an airplane, I heard the driver call out her name.

“Airman Morey, this is your stop.”

She picked up her tool box and got off the truck. As we pulled away from the parking spot, I got one last look at Airman Morey . She walked up the steps into the airplane and then, just like that, she was gone. Somewhere, some little part of me felt lost when she left my sight. It was like I found a part of myself that I never knew I was missing and held it just long enough to feel the hole when it was gone. In that moment, I knew the odds were a million to one, but that one had to be someone and maybe, some day, it would be me.

“Kevin” Selena said, talking to the Texan and interrupting my moment. “You’re getting nowhere flirting with Stacy like that. You know she’s married.”

What? My heart dropped like a falling brick crashing deep into the pit of my stomach. Married?


* Tune in next Thursday for Chapter 4

** Thank you to all the people who entered the giveaway. Each comment was assigned a number and the winning number was randomly pulled. The winner for this giveaway is "LKSitterson". Please email me at stacyhartphotography@gmail.com your information including your address and what size beanie you want and I will send it along to Bouquet Beanies!

For those of you who are interested in ordering a custom crochet beanie, hairband or more cute stuff, please check out  Bouquet Beanies

Keep tuning in for more future giveaways and more LOVE stories!

Last Chance for the give away!

Hi, guys! Be sure to comment on one of my posts between now and 6pm and you could win a crochet beanie with interchangeable flowers. Addisyn is modeling one of the interchangeable flowers below except it is on the hairband which is also available for purchase at Bouquet Beanies website.

Winner will be announced on Steve's blog tonight around 7pm Eastern Time.

Thankful for the Firsts

Last year I celebrated Thanksgiving with almost my whole extended family. We gathered around shrimp dip, a turkey fryer, green bean casserole and football games on T.V. and stuffed ourselves. When we thought we couldn’t possibly eat any more, we traded in the buttoned pants for comfortable sweats and picked up where we left off. Two days later, all the women in my family decorated the house, prepared more yummy food and celebrated that we were all going to be meeting Addisyn Faith in about a month. I remember thinking that being blessed with my fist child and having family and friends there to celebrate was the epitome of Thanksgiving. I didn’t think it could get any better…but it did.


This year our family has so much more to be thankful for. Steve and I have enjoyed more blessings in the past ten and a half months than in both of our lives combined. This is because even an ounce of love radiating from our little girl is enough to fill our hearts for a lifetime. It’s that powerful and has motivated us to love inspirationally and wholeheartedly. During a holiday season of gift giving, reaching out to others, and visiting with family and loved ones, I think of all the children who are not able to experience love from their family. Just the thought of this makes me hold my angel a little closer and hug her a little tighter because I know the greatest gift Addisyn will ever receive in life is the love from her family. That is why this Thanksgiving was beyond special for us. Addisyn experienced incredible love from a family she had never met. After ten and a half months, she was finally able to meet the rest of the members of her California family (Nana has flown out to Delaware to see her twice already) consisting of: Aunt Kasie, Uncle Matt, cousins Treydan and Matty, Uncle Robbie, and Pape for the first time. And so, this Thanksgiving, I am thankful for all the “firsts” in her life.



Like her first family trip to California and her first time on an airplane

and her first Thanksgiving

I could kiss these cheeks all day!!!

and the first time she played with her cousins Treydan and Matty

and the first time she was able to meet the whole California family that love her so very much

and her first time wearing camouflage

and the first time she saw some live farm animals

And some other firsts that we get to share with you this week:

Addisyn’s first sign that she has learned is the word “MORE”

Addisyn’s first kiss given to her dad on Sunday morning

My first give away:
I am thrilled to be able to start doing give aways on my blog. As most of you know I am a bit obsessed with crochet hats and hairbands. Shauna is the owner of Bouquet Beanies and she is offering one lucky commenter the beanie hat below. She can make it for newborns up to adult sizes. Comment on my post below between now and Thursday at 6pm Eastern time and your name will be entered into the give away. The winner will be announced on Thursday at the end of Steve's blog post.  For more information on the item and Bouquet Beanies, click here

With Love,

Stacy Hart

One More for Love The Story: Chapter 2 - Stacking the Odds

Six a.m. came early that next morning. Drained from jet lag and late night television (Home Improvement reruns are my weakness), I forced open one blood shot eye to see the blurry, but accurate, 6:20 a.m. staring right at me proving the old adage: “hit snooze once shame on me, hit snooze twice wake up in a spastic frenzy!” Like anyone who has ten minutes to be out the door, I started to mentally separate the needs from the wants of my morning routine. Here we go.

Shower: want. They make some pretty high powered deodorant these days. I spread some on and moved to the next item. Shave: need. Blasted military regulations. Brush teeth: need. Ok, these two needs could both be done in the bathroom. Better yet, they could be done at the same time! Too risky. The chance of confusing my toothbrush for my razor was too high in my groggy state. I settled for an electric shave and some mouth wash. Uniform: need. Iron uniform: want. Boots: need. Shine boots: want. At 6:30 exactly I was headed down the hallway toward the check-in counter meeting minimum uniform requirements in every category.

Selena was waiting for me at the check-in counter, on time. I knew she was completely aware of my appearance and probably thought I’d slept on a card board box with my head next to a dumpster last night, but I didn’t care. Who was I trying to impress? If there was one thing I was keenly aware of in the military it was the guy to girl ratio. Depending on the career field, some of the ratios are as follows:

Medical – 3:1

Admin – 4:1

Maintenance – 50:1

I know, it looks sexist, but those are the breaks. Most women who join end up in medical, dental, finance, and admin while very few land with us in maintenance. Also, it didn’t help matters that Selena was maintenance and married which meant, assuming there was going to be at least one other female in the squadron of any shape or size, there would be ninety-nine other guys in the pursuit. These are guys who had been there for years, putting their respective plans into action and at different phases of the relationship building process. I was outnumbered, unfamiliar with the territory, and most likely the lowest ranking person there. Needless to say, my motivation was as worn as my uniform.

When we got to the squadron Selena took me through a side door of the two story main office building to report in. After a quick check in, as we walked down the hallway, Selena explained to me that we would be going out to the flightline which was where the planes were parked for maintenance while awaiting future missions. Then she directed me to wait by the front door once we got outside while she went to check out a tool box.

Once we got outside, Selena left for the tool crib and I did as I was told. Standing by the front door, I got my first look at the flightline. It was as if everything was put on fast forward. There were large, light blue bread trucks that sped around a loading area stopping in front of each of the two massive buildings in the loading area. At every stop, a set of airman would file out of the back of the truck carrying tools and test equipment while another set would file onto the truck carrying equipment of their own. Coming in from every direction I could hear the keying of walkie-talkies and fluent speaking of the phonetic alphabet. At the end of my scan, beyond the loading area, directly to my right, I saw two of the massive C-5 Galaxy aircrafts parked side by side on the flightline. I was completely intimidated. Not only did I have no idea what was going on, it just hit me that I would be responsible for maintaining the largest aircraft in the Air Force…where do I hide?

With a sudden onset anxiety attack, I pinned myself against the wall. Hey, maybe if I stood there long enough I would blend into the brick like a chameleon to a branch. I was wearing camouflage...come on nature, give me a chance. As you can probably guess by now, I started listing ways I could get myself off of this base, back to California, out of the military, and in a job where people’s lives weren’t depending on the success of my technical aptitude. I’d make a great T.V. critic; wonder if they’re hiring. But, before I could manage one decent plan of escape, a light blue bread truck stopped right in front of me. The back door flew open and out jumped Selena.

“Come on Hart, let’s go!” She yelled.

With no time to think, I jumped in the truck, put my head down, and grabbed a seat at the rear of the vehicle on one of the two long benches that ran across the walls. There were other people talking around me, but I continued to keep my head down. I didn’t want to risk them asking me a question that I would, without a doubt, not have an answer to. I even tried not to eaves drop, but as they continued to talk amongst each other I couldn’t help but over hear a female say she had recorded an audition tape for the show Survivor. I lifted my head slightly and glanced up to see a woman I would never forget.


* Tune in next Thursday for Chapter three and to find out the give away winner. The give away item will be announced on Monday's post.

One More for Love The Story: Chapter 1 - Orders to Dela-where?

You see girls...nagging does work! I asked Steve like a BAZILLION times to write a short story for Addisyn (and the rest of our future soccer team) about our love story. He enjoys writing like I mentioned here and I think our love story pretty much ROCKS like I mentioned here.  Plus, I think it is a very cool legacy to pass on to our children as they get older. Wouldn't it be great if they knew how it all got started?

Leave it to me to push this one off on Steve.  There are a lot of details that I have yet to mention to you that Steve will tell you about (from his perspective of course) and I love that my man remembers and cherishes the same things about the beginning of our relationship, but words it a little more eloquently than I would. Go ahead, babe!

P.S. A new chapter will come out every Thursday to bring the blog post frequency up to TWO a week...(whoah...who is motivated now?)

One More for Love The Story

The Air Force is a gamble. You might think you have a choice, but ultimately whatever the Air Force needs you to do or wherever the Air Force needs you to be is what you’re doing and where you’re going. Period. I understand this calling now and am proud to serve my country, but in 2003, when I joined as a young and naïve 21 year old, I was caught thinking I might have a say in my future.

It was the second week of Basic Military Training (BMT) and I probably had a combined total of 35 hours of sleep since I’d arrived. I was waiting in line with the rest of my flight to fill out a piece of paper which was accurately labeled a “dream” sheet. That’s right…waiting. The less exciting side of BMT is standing at attention for hours with your eyes straight forward and hands pinned to your sides waiting to fill out ten minutes of paper work. Normally, I would use these precious hours to continue my training in upright, wide eyed slumber, but not today. I knew the selections I put on my dream sheet were going to be those that molded the future of my Air Force career. When I finally got to the front of the line I was wired and ready to go.

There were two sets of lists in this process. The first was a list of five military jobs I would like to have. It’s not exact, but my list went something like this:

1) The guy who trains the Astronauts

2) The guy who plays video games like in the commercials

3) The guy who wears a ten foot tall robot suit like in the video games

4) Maybe just the guy in the commercial pretending to play video games?

5) Top Secret Detective

I turned the list into the powers that be, spun the wheel of Air Force placement and…I was coded as an aircraft avionics specialist. Bummer. I know it sounds cool, but it doesn’t have the same pizzazz as a top secret video game expert who gets to moonlight as an astronaut training robot detective now does it? Air Force – 1, Steve – 0. The second list was the actual dream sheet. Here I was to list five places where I would like to be stationed. Even though my job wasn’t what I’d expected, at least I’d be living in style. Let’s see if they can get it right this time…my list:

1) Hawaii (let’s face it, there’s a base there and it would be awesome)

2) California (I’m from Cali and was feeling home sick already! Wouldn’t have minded to be back home with the fam)

3) Italy (enough said)

4) Florida (I’ve never been there, but heard Will Smith sing a song about Miami that made it sound dynamite)

5) Guam (Ok, I didn’t know where this was at the time, but it was so much fun to say that I had to put it on there)

I handed in the list and awaited the results. Drum roll… Survey said! – Dover, Delaware. Ouch. That stings Air Force…I trusted you. I need to be honest, I didn’t know where Delaware was either (thanks fifth grade geography, what happened to you?), but I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to feature Miami or Will Smith so I was completely devastated. How could my dreams of commercial stardom in Honolulu rise and fall so quickly? Air Force, what did I ever do to you?

After completing basic training and my four months of technical school (none of which involved even the slightest bit of sleuthing), I caught a plane out of Dallas headed into Philadelphia. I was met at the airport by a pleasant Senior Airman woman with a sweet smile and a comforting demeanor. She was stationed at Dover and had volunteered to pick me up from the airport. Her name was Selena. When we got into the city of Dover, she showed me all of the places I would need to know.

“Ok, Steve, this is the bar where everyone meets on Thursday nights.” She said, as we passed a restaurant that looked like a small house. “This one by the lake is where all of the college kids hang out on Fridays and have trivia night if you’re into that.”

At that time of my life I was into that, but I wasn’t into being in Delaware. I smiled and nodded at each of the venues, but inside I knew they wouldn’t be featuring anything with bead throwing or cruise ships so I mentally checked out. Of all the places I could have gone, it looked like I’d be letting loose in the house that Abe built or on the shore of Lake Boredom. After our tour of the town, Selena finally took me on base and dropped me off at billeting. I would be staying in a hotel room for a couple of days because the squadron was still working on getting me into a dorm.

“See you at 0630 at the check in counter. Work starts at 0700. Welcome to Dover.” She said and drove away.

There I was, finally at my mandated duty station with nothing to my name, but 50 bucks in the bank, a suit case full of uniforms, a gym bag packed with clothes, and a pocket full of shattered dreams. After I checked into my room and unloaded my belongings (which took all of about five minutes), I lay atop the covers of the stiff hotel mattress with my fingers crossed behind my head. I tried to recall the series of decisions from my California enlistment to my flight into Philli. I remembered saying goodbye to my mom with tears in her eyes and hoping she would understand that I had no other choice but to leave the mess I’d made and find a new beginning somewhere else. I thought about the dream sheet and how much better life would have been if I was lying on a hammock in Maui drinking a Mai Tai. I even thought about my friends back home and wondered how often I’d get to see them now that I was on the other side of the country. As I looped the timeline in my head, one question that continued to resurface was, “Why the heck did I end up in Delaware?” … Little did I know that tomorrow I’d meet the woman who would be the answer to that very question.

Come back this Thursday for the next chapter of One More for Love: The Story. God Bless - Steve

Yay to my mini photo shoot from this afternoon - Brittany and Christian are a married couple and are totally in love. It was so much fun hanging out with them this afternoon and I am so excited about these pics!

























With Love,

Stacy Hart