I’ve been putting it off, writing this damned blog. I wish it were just for one reason. Unless you pile the stress, lack of time, daily grind, dog, cat, dirty kitchen, clogged vacuum, and paralyzing fear on top of each other. Then you might be able to consider it one reason. And if you can compartmentalize like that, rock on. That’s a gift.
I’ve been putting it off for a few reasons, but now seems the best time. Partly because I’ve got lukewarm coffee, I’ve got candles burning, I’ve got my trip-hop in the background, the kid is in a Benadryl coma … but mostly, because I have to kick-start this burgeoning creative outlet, or I’m going to crawl out of my skin.
Anywho, there are a few phrases that wives of servicemen hate to hear. The range of anger can vary, however, we’re pretty used to hearing the following:
Don’t get mad, but…
But honey, YOU get to choose the next post!
The orders say ...
Have you seen my flak vest?
And, the mother of all phrases doesn’t actually have one phrase. It can be something as simple as:
Honey, are you on the FRG phone tree? (Especially if it’s not near a holiday.)
Guess what? That poster board you’ve been saving? I know what you can use it for in a year!
Have you seen my flak vest? (Trust me, this is ongoing.)
We’re going to be able to save so much money!
But those last few? They all mean the same damn thing. They’re getting on a plane. And they’re not going to Detroit, people.
And all of you reading this? You’ve just fallen into the reclass/PCS/deployment rabbit hole. You don’t have to read it. It’s probably going to be about two years of ricocheting thoughts, rants, tears, and fears. And I mean it, you really don’t have to read it.
But I’m going to write it, just the same.
