Dear 2008,
Man, will I be glad to see you go. At first glance, it seems like I really shouldn't be that angry with you. After all, it was 2007 that took my husband away from me for over a year. But still, you did bring things like this and this to me out of nowhere.
I did my best to celebrate your arrival. I went out with two friends to an overcrowded bar, even though all I wanted to do was sleep! Maybe you could tell, though, since you decided to do all you could to drag yourself out, throwing a leap year at me and even adding an extra second to yourself tonight.
I did my best to make you go by quickly, and praise the Lord you did. I kept myself ridiculously busy with training and completing umpteen billion athletic feats (OK, like 6, but whatever. It was a lot.). I went on a couple trips with friends. I got promoted. I met some famous people. I went to a handful of concerts (interesting ones and awesome ones). I rode a hot air balloon for the first time and made it to Day 12 for the first time ever with K. Thanks to K, I got pampered a lot, which was definitely awesome. And I was only in one wedding this year (sorry, haven't blogged about it ... but it was just over a week ago, and I haven't even looked at my pictures yet!).
But I spent a lot of 2008 just waiting, getting by. Almost everything I did was designed to get me closer to 2009. Every step, every pedal, every countdown (man, there were a lot of those!) was added intentionally to make the next countdown seem that much closer. I spent a lot of time exhausted, but my plan worked.
Despite your stubbornness and added time, 2008, I won't look back at you as a bad year, but I'm still glad to see you go. And I'm going to celebrate tonight the way I wanted to last year: I'm going to bed. And I'm sleeping in.
And when I wake up tomorrow, I'll have a smile on my face. It's just that I'm really looking forward to so many things 2009 holds for me: My Sooners are in the national championship (here's hoping we don't roll over and die), I'll get to leave Dallas (thank you, Jesus!), K and I will have our "real" wedding (and it will be awesome!), and I'll finally finally finally get to live with my husband (in case you're wondering, we still don't know where).
But the part of 2009 I'm most looking forward to will come only a few days into the year: K will come home.
So please don't dawdle on your way out, 2008. I'm ready to start living to the fullest again.
Love,
me
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
Evidently you have to be here to understand it
I just saw a coworker in the kitchen this morning. She asked how my Christmas went -- "Did you get to see your husband? Wait, doesn't he come home soon?"
I said, "Yeah, like in less than a week and a half."
"Oh my gosh! Are you so excited?"
"I'm stressed!"
She gave me a confused look, turned and walked away quickly.
Guess next time I shouldn't be so honest.
I said, "Yeah, like in less than a week and a half."
"Oh my gosh! Are you so excited?"
"I'm stressed!"
She gave me a confused look, turned and walked away quickly.
Guess next time I shouldn't be so honest.
I wonder if this means I'll be scrambling in a couple weeks
In an effort to not repeat the absolute neuroticism of the days (and weeks) leading up to K's last return home, I've been trying to not let the fact that the deployment is almost over get to me.
I think for the most part, it's working. Maybe even a little too well.
Because instead of rushing around doing 50 billion things to prepare for K's arrival, when I have time for peace and quiet at home, I've done nothing.
Never mind the fact I need to dust.
Never mind the fact I have papers to file and organize.
Never mind the fact I could stand to organize and throw out quite a few things that will make the eventual (like in 6 months) move easier.
No, this time, my attempt to prevent the insanity, nonstop cleaning and sleepless nights is to do absolutely nothing.
Surely there's a happy medium in there. We'll see if I find it in the next week or so.
*Before you get worried that K will come home to a pigsty, you should know that it could be until mid-January before he's able to come to my apartment in Dallas. The homecoming will take place in Louisiana. :)
I think for the most part, it's working. Maybe even a little too well.
Because instead of rushing around doing 50 billion things to prepare for K's arrival, when I have time for peace and quiet at home, I've done nothing.
Never mind the fact I need to dust.
Never mind the fact I have papers to file and organize.
Never mind the fact I could stand to organize and throw out quite a few things that will make the eventual (like in 6 months) move easier.
No, this time, my attempt to prevent the insanity, nonstop cleaning and sleepless nights is to do absolutely nothing.
Surely there's a happy medium in there. We'll see if I find it in the next week or so.
*Before you get worried that K will come home to a pigsty, you should know that it could be until mid-January before he's able to come to my apartment in Dallas. The homecoming will take place in Louisiana. :)
Saturday, December 27, 2008
How did you spend your Saturday night? I went dumpster diving.
K and I had only known each other for three months when he turned 27. He had mentioned once that he was wanting to get a casual watch, so I knew that's what I wanted to get him for his birthday. I went to four different stores looking for the perfect watch before I finally wound up choosing a band and face separately.
I was ridiculously nervous that he'd hate it. Really ridiculously nervous. But everything turned out great. K loved the watch.
While K is deployed, quite a few of his "civilian clothes," including the watch, are being stored in my apartment. Over the summer, when I was getting ready for K to come home for R&R, I noticed the watch had died. I took it to the Fossil store to get the battery replaced, and an employee at the store accidentally broke one of the hands off the watch face. I could send it off to be repaired (under warranty), but it would take 3 weeks, which was longer than K would be home.
The employee checked the computer to see if any nearby stores carried the same watch face, but it was discontinued. Since it seemed K would be without his watch no matter what, I decided to wait until the end of the deployment to get the battery replaced. At least that way, it wouldn't just sit running for several months.
I sent the watch off a few weeks ago, and I got it back good as new about a week and a half ago. I put the watch in my mail stack to sort through later.
For some reason, I thought about the watch face yesterday morning. I didn't see it on my table, so I realized I'd probably accidentally thrown it in the trash when I'd sorted through my mail a few days ago. There wasn't anything in the trash that could ruin it, and I was running late leaving for work, so I made a mental note to go through my trash when I got home last night.
Unfortunately, my mental note didn't register until tonight -- and I took my trash out this morning. I looked everywhere in my apartment that I could think of that I could have put the watch face. It was in none of those places.
I headed out to the dumpsters, but sure enough, they were loaded with boxes and Christmas trees (who throws those things away already?!). I searched the bags that hadn't made it into the dumpsters, hoping maybe I'd missed when I'd tossed my garbage bag over the little fence surrounding the dumpsters. No such luck.
I ran back to my apartment and started searching more closely through all of the same places again. I called my dad and told him all about the watch and how I'd misplaced it. Very quickly into the story, I was crying. By the end of it, I was sobbing. I knew it was ridiculous and that K wouldn't be remotely as upset as I was about all of it, but I couldn't help it. When I finished my second round of searching, there was still no sign of the watch.
I couldn't quit crying, and I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep. I honestly felt like I could've thrown up. I really just wanted to be able to talk to K about it right then, but that wasn't possible.
I got off the phone, and I headed back out to the dumpsters, armed with a flashlight. I tried to search as much as I could by touching as little of other people's trash as possible (I'm a huge germophobe). My dad called me back to see if I'd found the watch yet. He offered to drive to Dallas with my brother so the two of them could dig through the dumpsters for me.
The thought of my dad and brother driving two and a half hours late on a Saturday night (they wouldn't have gotten here until 10:30 or later) just to dig through dumpsters seemed awful, but the gesture was so sweet it made me cry even harder. I told my dad I'd keep digging and give him an update soon.
After several more minutes of digging, I was able to find two empty boxes I'd thrown away this morning, which gave me a little hope, but I couldn't see any sign of my garbage bag. I moved around to the other side of the dumpster to get a different perspective. A Christmas tree was on that side, along with quite a few large boxes, so it was hard to really see much. I'd been looking for quite a while, and the whole search seemed futile. I wasn't worried enough to climb into the dumpster and really dig, so after over an hour of crying and searching, I gave up.
I called my dad back and admitted defeat. He offered again for him and my brother to come down and help. I told him no again, and I told him K and I would just have to choose a new watch face together once he's home. It'll have its own sentimental value because we'll choose it together, and it'll be a "Yay, you're home" watch face. Thinking of it that way helped me stop crying.
A few hours (and a hot shower!) later, I've still got a headache from crying so hard. I feel a lot more at peace about the whole thing, especially since K and I can pick out a new watch together.
That being said, I'm still not completely confident I won't have a bit of an urge to go dumpster diving again tomorrow.
I was ridiculously nervous that he'd hate it. Really ridiculously nervous. But everything turned out great. K loved the watch.
While K is deployed, quite a few of his "civilian clothes," including the watch, are being stored in my apartment. Over the summer, when I was getting ready for K to come home for R&R, I noticed the watch had died. I took it to the Fossil store to get the battery replaced, and an employee at the store accidentally broke one of the hands off the watch face. I could send it off to be repaired (under warranty), but it would take 3 weeks, which was longer than K would be home.
The employee checked the computer to see if any nearby stores carried the same watch face, but it was discontinued. Since it seemed K would be without his watch no matter what, I decided to wait until the end of the deployment to get the battery replaced. At least that way, it wouldn't just sit running for several months.
I sent the watch off a few weeks ago, and I got it back good as new about a week and a half ago. I put the watch in my mail stack to sort through later.
For some reason, I thought about the watch face yesterday morning. I didn't see it on my table, so I realized I'd probably accidentally thrown it in the trash when I'd sorted through my mail a few days ago. There wasn't anything in the trash that could ruin it, and I was running late leaving for work, so I made a mental note to go through my trash when I got home last night.
Unfortunately, my mental note didn't register until tonight -- and I took my trash out this morning. I looked everywhere in my apartment that I could think of that I could have put the watch face. It was in none of those places.
I headed out to the dumpsters, but sure enough, they were loaded with boxes and Christmas trees (who throws those things away already?!). I searched the bags that hadn't made it into the dumpsters, hoping maybe I'd missed when I'd tossed my garbage bag over the little fence surrounding the dumpsters. No such luck.
I ran back to my apartment and started searching more closely through all of the same places again. I called my dad and told him all about the watch and how I'd misplaced it. Very quickly into the story, I was crying. By the end of it, I was sobbing. I knew it was ridiculous and that K wouldn't be remotely as upset as I was about all of it, but I couldn't help it. When I finished my second round of searching, there was still no sign of the watch.
I couldn't quit crying, and I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep. I honestly felt like I could've thrown up. I really just wanted to be able to talk to K about it right then, but that wasn't possible.
I got off the phone, and I headed back out to the dumpsters, armed with a flashlight. I tried to search as much as I could by touching as little of other people's trash as possible (I'm a huge germophobe). My dad called me back to see if I'd found the watch yet. He offered to drive to Dallas with my brother so the two of them could dig through the dumpsters for me.
The thought of my dad and brother driving two and a half hours late on a Saturday night (they wouldn't have gotten here until 10:30 or later) just to dig through dumpsters seemed awful, but the gesture was so sweet it made me cry even harder. I told my dad I'd keep digging and give him an update soon.
After several more minutes of digging, I was able to find two empty boxes I'd thrown away this morning, which gave me a little hope, but I couldn't see any sign of my garbage bag. I moved around to the other side of the dumpster to get a different perspective. A Christmas tree was on that side, along with quite a few large boxes, so it was hard to really see much. I'd been looking for quite a while, and the whole search seemed futile. I wasn't worried enough to climb into the dumpster and really dig, so after over an hour of crying and searching, I gave up.
I called my dad back and admitted defeat. He offered again for him and my brother to come down and help. I told him no again, and I told him K and I would just have to choose a new watch face together once he's home. It'll have its own sentimental value because we'll choose it together, and it'll be a "Yay, you're home" watch face. Thinking of it that way helped me stop crying.
A few hours (and a hot shower!) later, I've still got a headache from crying so hard. I feel a lot more at peace about the whole thing, especially since K and I can pick out a new watch together.
That being said, I'm still not completely confident I won't have a bit of an urge to go dumpster diving again tomorrow.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Merry Christmas, Oklahoma style!
I'm heading to Oklahoma tonight for bridesmaid duty! I'm really looking forward to my friends' wedding, and I'm so excited to get to be a part of it.
One thing I'm also excited about is that this time of year in Oklahoma, there's no way of avoiding hearing a certain little jingle. It's been around for decades, and it's really become Oklahoma's own little Christmas carol. (I'm so not exaggerating -- we used to sing this thing on bus trips in high school!)
Give it a listen! Hope you think it's as awesome as we* do!
*By "we," I mean Okies. :)
One thing I'm also excited about is that this time of year in Oklahoma, there's no way of avoiding hearing a certain little jingle. It's been around for decades, and it's really become Oklahoma's own little Christmas carol. (I'm so not exaggerating -- we used to sing this thing on bus trips in high school!)
Give it a listen! Hope you think it's as awesome as we* do!
*By "we," I mean Okies. :)
I MISS MY (a.m.) SLEEP!
I swear, I feel like I'm just so behind! I've hardly read blogs lately, and I've hardly blogged myself lately.
I can pinpoint all this to one weekend: Nov. 1 & 2.
That was the weekend of the NASCAR race and my half-marathon. And the time change. I thought for a long time that it was taking me a while to adjust to the time change. Never mind the fact I've never had this much trouble adjusting to a time change or the fact it's just one stupid hour.
I don't know why it's taken me so long to really figure out what the culprit is: Jeremy.
See, he's been my workout buddy for two years. He knows more what he's doing than I do, so I've gotten used to just following him around and working out with him. I've gotten a lot better results than I ever did by myself.
Well, shortly after the time change, Jeremy decided he didn't want to work out at night anymore. He wanted to go at 5:30 a.m. And since I'd spent this entire deployment being a gym/running/cycling rockstar, I wasn't about to quit just a matter of weeks before K was coming home for good.
So I sucked it up and started getting up and going at 5:30 also. And it's killing me.
Yes, I have my evenings free, but I go to bed early now! Before, I went to bed at midnight on an early night. I'd stay up unti 1:30 pretty regularly, just getting things done. I'd watch TV, do laundry, get things organized, read blogs ...
Now, going to bed at 11:30 is a late night. Most days, it's 11 or even 10:30. Last night? I was in bed by 10. TEN!!! My nights have gone from being productive to just eating dinner, cleaning the kitchen, relaxing on the couch for half an hour (an hour on Mondays for The Hills!!!), and then getting ready for bed. Not exactly productive. And somehow, I'm still exhausted on the weekends! Gah!
Thank goodness, I've got just a few more months of this to go, and then K and I will be living together (finally), and we'll be workout buddies at a reasonable time. I've seen plenty more of 5:15 a.m. than I ever care to again!
I can pinpoint all this to one weekend: Nov. 1 & 2.
That was the weekend of the NASCAR race and my half-marathon. And the time change. I thought for a long time that it was taking me a while to adjust to the time change. Never mind the fact I've never had this much trouble adjusting to a time change or the fact it's just one stupid hour.
I don't know why it's taken me so long to really figure out what the culprit is: Jeremy.
See, he's been my workout buddy for two years. He knows more what he's doing than I do, so I've gotten used to just following him around and working out with him. I've gotten a lot better results than I ever did by myself.
Well, shortly after the time change, Jeremy decided he didn't want to work out at night anymore. He wanted to go at 5:30 a.m. And since I'd spent this entire deployment being a gym/running/cycling rockstar, I wasn't about to quit just a matter of weeks before K was coming home for good.
So I sucked it up and started getting up and going at 5:30 also. And it's killing me.
Yes, I have my evenings free, but I go to bed early now! Before, I went to bed at midnight on an early night. I'd stay up unti 1:30 pretty regularly, just getting things done. I'd watch TV, do laundry, get things organized, read blogs ...
Now, going to bed at 11:30 is a late night. Most days, it's 11 or even 10:30. Last night? I was in bed by 10. TEN!!! My nights have gone from being productive to just eating dinner, cleaning the kitchen, relaxing on the couch for half an hour (an hour on Mondays for The Hills!!!), and then getting ready for bed. Not exactly productive. And somehow, I'm still exhausted on the weekends! Gah!
Thank goodness, I've got just a few more months of this to go, and then K and I will be living together (finally), and we'll be workout buddies at a reasonable time. I've seen plenty more of 5:15 a.m. than I ever care to again!
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
It's a bad time of year for Save the Dates
Over the last few weeks, I've been collecting addresses to send out our Save the Dates. Many people have figured out why, responding with things like, "I can't wait for the wedding!"
A few who aren't really close friends, though, have replied, "I need yours too!!!" I can only guess what that means: They think I'm sending them a Christmas card, so they want to be sure to send me a card too.
I sent out over 40 Christmas cards last week. Maybe that's not a lot, but to me, it was -- especially to do by myself (and signing K's name and mine)! I sent cards to K's family, my family, K's closest friends and my closest friends. I addressed all of them by hand. I sent out every card I had.
But I'm still getting a few, "I need yours too!" messages. Guess I'll be buying more cards tonight.
A few who aren't really close friends, though, have replied, "I need yours too!!!" I can only guess what that means: They think I'm sending them a Christmas card, so they want to be sure to send me a card too.
I sent out over 40 Christmas cards last week. Maybe that's not a lot, but to me, it was -- especially to do by myself (and signing K's name and mine)! I sent cards to K's family, my family, K's closest friends and my closest friends. I addressed all of them by hand. I sent out every card I had.
But I'm still getting a few, "I need yours too!" messages. Guess I'll be buying more cards tonight.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Praise the Lord for iPods and the gym
I'm not a morning person.
I really want to be, so maybe that's why it's taken me so long to learn this. But I would much rather stay up until 3:00 in the morning finishing things I need to do than get up 30 minutes earlier than usual to do them. It's silly, I know, but I also know that in that make-or-break moment, I'll hit the snooze button every damn time. (Even with multiple alarm clocks.)
So maybe that's why I was so not wanting to go to the gym when my alarm went off at 5:00 this morning. Or maybe it's the fact that it's cold, which definitely makes it tough to get out of bed. It could be because I was up until 1:15 last night, thanks to Christmas cards taking about three times longer than I'd anticipated. It could be because after two straight workdays filled with brain-frying projects with impossible-to-meet deadlines, I really needed today to be Saturday.
Or it could be because my attempt at putting off all the anxiety that evidently goes along with having your husband come home from war by trying to not let it get to my head that it's, like, less than a month away is not working as well as I thought it was.
Maybe it was all of those things. All I knew was I did NOT want to get out of bed. I called Jeremy to see what the workout was. Maybe that would motivate me.
It would've been easy for Jeremy to say something like, "Your husband is coming home soon. Get your ass to the gym." And it would've worked. I guess Jeremy was annoyed I'd called, because all he could muster up was, "Shut up and get out of bed. See ya there."
I got up and started getting dressed. As I gradually became alert enough for all five senses to be working, I noticed a weird smell in my apartment for the second time this week. And for the second time this week, I walked into my living room to discover that Piper had managed to get diarrhea without waking me up to let me know to take her outside.
Awesome.
I cleaned it up and, frustrated, headed to the gym. During our 45-minute workout, I listened to nice, angry music by bands like Korn, Disturbed, Five Finger Death Punch and Drowning Pool. (It really is good workout music -- especially for days like this.) My body was still sore from yesterday morning's 5:30 a.m. workout (Yes, we've been doing this on a regular basis.), which made today even more lovely.
At about 6:15, Jeremy said those words I always look forward to so much during our workouts: "We're done."
I headed toward the locker room, but I realized I wasn't as relieved as I usually am. I was still wound up and frustrated. I wanted to run, only it was 30 degrees outside and still dark. Not happening. But I couldn't go home. Not with all this negative energy still hanging over me.
I told Jeremy I was staying for cardio. I headed over to the elliptical (you know my luck with the treadmill), found more angry music and cranked up the volume. I started at a decent pace, and I picked it up more and more and more. I finished by listening to the first song I heard when I was heading back to Dallas the day K left for Iraq. I loved the song before then, but it's become a lot more emotionally motivating in runs. (It's the one I listened to at the end of my half-marathon to make me finish sprinting.)
After about 15 minutes, I was sweaty, red-faced and out of breath. For a physical and mental cooldown, I switched to Coldplay. When I climbed off the elliptical, I felt so much better. I had left all my frustration there.
Today is going to be a better day.
I really want to be, so maybe that's why it's taken me so long to learn this. But I would much rather stay up until 3:00 in the morning finishing things I need to do than get up 30 minutes earlier than usual to do them. It's silly, I know, but I also know that in that make-or-break moment, I'll hit the snooze button every damn time. (Even with multiple alarm clocks.)
So maybe that's why I was so not wanting to go to the gym when my alarm went off at 5:00 this morning. Or maybe it's the fact that it's cold, which definitely makes it tough to get out of bed. It could be because I was up until 1:15 last night, thanks to Christmas cards taking about three times longer than I'd anticipated. It could be because after two straight workdays filled with brain-frying projects with impossible-to-meet deadlines, I really needed today to be Saturday.
Or it could be because my attempt at putting off all the anxiety that evidently goes along with having your husband come home from war by trying to not let it get to my head that it's, like, less than a month away is not working as well as I thought it was.
Maybe it was all of those things. All I knew was I did NOT want to get out of bed. I called Jeremy to see what the workout was. Maybe that would motivate me.
It would've been easy for Jeremy to say something like, "Your husband is coming home soon. Get your ass to the gym." And it would've worked. I guess Jeremy was annoyed I'd called, because all he could muster up was, "Shut up and get out of bed. See ya there."
I got up and started getting dressed. As I gradually became alert enough for all five senses to be working, I noticed a weird smell in my apartment for the second time this week. And for the second time this week, I walked into my living room to discover that Piper had managed to get diarrhea without waking me up to let me know to take her outside.
Awesome.
I cleaned it up and, frustrated, headed to the gym. During our 45-minute workout, I listened to nice, angry music by bands like Korn, Disturbed, Five Finger Death Punch and Drowning Pool. (It really is good workout music -- especially for days like this.) My body was still sore from yesterday morning's 5:30 a.m. workout (Yes, we've been doing this on a regular basis.), which made today even more lovely.
At about 6:15, Jeremy said those words I always look forward to so much during our workouts: "We're done."
I headed toward the locker room, but I realized I wasn't as relieved as I usually am. I was still wound up and frustrated. I wanted to run, only it was 30 degrees outside and still dark. Not happening. But I couldn't go home. Not with all this negative energy still hanging over me.
I told Jeremy I was staying for cardio. I headed over to the elliptical (you know my luck with the treadmill), found more angry music and cranked up the volume. I started at a decent pace, and I picked it up more and more and more. I finished by listening to the first song I heard when I was heading back to Dallas the day K left for Iraq. I loved the song before then, but it's become a lot more emotionally motivating in runs. (It's the one I listened to at the end of my half-marathon to make me finish sprinting.)
After about 15 minutes, I was sweaty, red-faced and out of breath. For a physical and mental cooldown, I switched to Coldplay. When I climbed off the elliptical, I felt so much better. I had left all my frustration there.
Today is going to be a better day.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Eeeeeee!!!!
(from DallasNews.com)
Cold Front Blusters Through Dallas, May Bring Light Snow Tonight
A cold front moving through Dallas-Fort Worth this morning will create the right setting for possible flurries and even light snow this evening, the National Weather Service said. ...
Friday, December 05, 2008
The military just loves to take its time
Remember back in July when I posted about how anxious I was about getting the list of possible places K could get stationed early next spring? Yeah, we're still waiting on that.
We actually did eventually get a list sent to us in late August, but it was the wrong one. It was for openings in December, January and February. Obviously if K was still set to be in Iraq then, he couldn't very well take over a new position here at the same time. I wasn't too upset that the list didn't apply to us, though -- all the places on it sucked.
So here we are, months later, still waiting for that list. And in less than six months, I'll be packing up and moving with K to one of the places on this list that the Army doesn't seem very anxious to share with us.
I really need to go through my closet to get rid of things I hardly ever wear, but I don't want to start that project until I know what type of weather I need to prepare for. What if I throw out a bunch of old sweaters, and then we wind up stationed in Colorado? Or what if I get rid of a bunch of cute dresses or summery shoes that I hardly wear, and we get sent to Hawaii?
Maybe I should just look at the important phrase of both sentences -- "that I hardly wear" -- and get a move on it.
Colorado is at the top of our list of places we want to get stationed. What's funny about this is it really hasn't gotten that cold in Dallas yet, but for some reason, I'm feeling it more than I usually do (maybe all that Hotter'n Hell training moved up the entire range of temperatures I can handle by about 20 degrees). This, along with the hopes that we'll be lucky enough to get stationed at the post at the top of our list, has made me really into sweaters this season.
There are two sweaters I really really want to buy right now, and they're both on sale. If I knew we were going to Colorado, I could justify getting them. If I knew we were going somewhere warmer, I would know it would be wasteful and unnecessary for me to buy them.
Obviously, there are tons more important reasons for my wanting to know where K will be sent next. I'm going to be starting a whole new life in less than six months. I don't think it's too demanding to want to know where that will be like right now.
It would be nice to start researching the area and neighborhoods. I could find out more about the job market and decide if it's worth it to look for something there, or if I should just hang on to my job now and try to work remotely.
What if we wind up in Germany? It would be nice to have time to ... I don't know ... learn German!!
But also, knowing where we'll go next would make it so much easier to daydream about finally getting to start our lives together as a real married couple.
The suspense is killing me.
But at least for now, it's saving my bank account.
We actually did eventually get a list sent to us in late August, but it was the wrong one. It was for openings in December, January and February. Obviously if K was still set to be in Iraq then, he couldn't very well take over a new position here at the same time. I wasn't too upset that the list didn't apply to us, though -- all the places on it sucked.
So here we are, months later, still waiting for that list. And in less than six months, I'll be packing up and moving with K to one of the places on this list that the Army doesn't seem very anxious to share with us.
I really need to go through my closet to get rid of things I hardly ever wear, but I don't want to start that project until I know what type of weather I need to prepare for. What if I throw out a bunch of old sweaters, and then we wind up stationed in Colorado? Or what if I get rid of a bunch of cute dresses or summery shoes that I hardly wear, and we get sent to Hawaii?
Maybe I should just look at the important phrase of both sentences -- "that I hardly wear" -- and get a move on it.
Colorado is at the top of our list of places we want to get stationed. What's funny about this is it really hasn't gotten that cold in Dallas yet, but for some reason, I'm feeling it more than I usually do (maybe all that Hotter'n Hell training moved up the entire range of temperatures I can handle by about 20 degrees). This, along with the hopes that we'll be lucky enough to get stationed at the post at the top of our list, has made me really into sweaters this season.
There are two sweaters I really really want to buy right now, and they're both on sale. If I knew we were going to Colorado, I could justify getting them. If I knew we were going somewhere warmer, I would know it would be wasteful and unnecessary for me to buy them.
Obviously, there are tons more important reasons for my wanting to know where K will be sent next. I'm going to be starting a whole new life in less than six months. I don't think it's too demanding to want to know where that will be like right now.
It would be nice to start researching the area and neighborhoods. I could find out more about the job market and decide if it's worth it to look for something there, or if I should just hang on to my job now and try to work remotely.
What if we wind up in Germany? It would be nice to have time to ... I don't know ... learn German!!
But also, knowing where we'll go next would make it so much easier to daydream about finally getting to start our lives together as a real married couple.
The suspense is killing me.
But at least for now, it's saving my bank account.
Of all the scenarios I imagined, this one came COMPLETELY out of left field
It was Thanksgiving night. My dad's girlfriend came inside the house and woke my dad, who was sleeping on the couch. She was trying to tell him something about Ringo, his dog. She told Dad that it sounded like Ringo had been attacked. She heard him make strange noises, and then it sounded like something attacked him. "Whatever it was, it was big," she said. Then she heard Ringo whining.
I ran to the bedroom to grab my coat as my dad, still out of it from his nap, tried to process what his girlfriend was telling him.
I ran out of the house, outside the gate, and down the long driveway to the street. I called Ringo's name the whole way, but I never heard a sound -- no footsteps on the gravel, no barking, no whining.
I got to the end of the driveway and tried to decide which direction to go on the road. A car was heading toward me from the right. It slowed and moved to one side of the road. I headed that way, calling Ringo's name again.
My dad and his girlfriend live out in the country, so there are no streetlights. I couldn't see a thing. Luckily, another car soon headed my direction. Just as I heard my dad start his pickup to head our way, I saw through the headlights of the oncoming car the silhouette of two dogs standing in the middle of the road.
I ran toward the dogs, waving my arms to warn the approaching car. I didn't want the driver to wreck in an attempt to avoid hitting them or watch the dogs get hit right in front of me. The car slowed, and I noticed Ringo seemed to be limping. He was definitely hurt.
Just as I reached the dogs, my dad pulled up in his truck. For some reason, the second dog was sticking very close to Ringo, like it had no choice.
Then I realize it didn't. The dogs were somehow stuck together, end to end.
I tilted my head to the side and tried to figure out what had happened. How could their legs be caught? Or were their tails twisted together (but how could that happen?)? What could have ...
Oooooooh ...
My dad started laughing and told me to wave the other car on by us. He immediately called my grandpa to find out how to ... ahem ... separate the dogs safely. Evidently the solution was a bucket of water.
My dad headed back to the house, and moments later, his girlfriend came down the driveway, carrying a bucket. She didn't want to be the one to douse the dogs, so I did. It worked.
The other dog, who -- rightfully so -- seemed pretty upset about the whole thing, immediately bolted down the road when she realized she was free.
Ringo, though ... Poor Ringo. He was bleeding, and he seemed to be in pain. We tried to get him to follow us back to the house, but he was more interested in checking on his manhood than paying attention to us. I wondered if we'd have to take him to the vet.
Somehow, though, after just a minute or two, Ringo seemed to be back to normal. In a split second, he seemed to forget his pain. We watched incredulously as he bolted off, disappearing in the direction his lady friend had gone just moments before.
Short-term memory. One-track mind.
Typical male.
I ran to the bedroom to grab my coat as my dad, still out of it from his nap, tried to process what his girlfriend was telling him.
I ran out of the house, outside the gate, and down the long driveway to the street. I called Ringo's name the whole way, but I never heard a sound -- no footsteps on the gravel, no barking, no whining.
I got to the end of the driveway and tried to decide which direction to go on the road. A car was heading toward me from the right. It slowed and moved to one side of the road. I headed that way, calling Ringo's name again.
My dad and his girlfriend live out in the country, so there are no streetlights. I couldn't see a thing. Luckily, another car soon headed my direction. Just as I heard my dad start his pickup to head our way, I saw through the headlights of the oncoming car the silhouette of two dogs standing in the middle of the road.
I ran toward the dogs, waving my arms to warn the approaching car. I didn't want the driver to wreck in an attempt to avoid hitting them or watch the dogs get hit right in front of me. The car slowed, and I noticed Ringo seemed to be limping. He was definitely hurt.
Just as I reached the dogs, my dad pulled up in his truck. For some reason, the second dog was sticking very close to Ringo, like it had no choice.
Then I realize it didn't. The dogs were somehow stuck together, end to end.
I tilted my head to the side and tried to figure out what had happened. How could their legs be caught? Or were their tails twisted together (but how could that happen?)? What could have ...
Oooooooh ...
My dad started laughing and told me to wave the other car on by us. He immediately called my grandpa to find out how to ... ahem ... separate the dogs safely. Evidently the solution was a bucket of water.
My dad headed back to the house, and moments later, his girlfriend came down the driveway, carrying a bucket. She didn't want to be the one to douse the dogs, so I did. It worked.
The other dog, who -- rightfully so -- seemed pretty upset about the whole thing, immediately bolted down the road when she realized she was free.
Ringo, though ... Poor Ringo. He was bleeding, and he seemed to be in pain. We tried to get him to follow us back to the house, but he was more interested in checking on his manhood than paying attention to us. I wondered if we'd have to take him to the vet.
Somehow, though, after just a minute or two, Ringo seemed to be back to normal. In a split second, he seemed to forget his pain. We watched incredulously as he bolted off, disappearing in the direction his lady friend had gone just moments before.
Short-term memory. One-track mind.
Typical male.
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