December 31, 2008


So today I have to say goodbye to my husband again. It's just for the weekend -- he's flying home alone to see his family -- but I hate the idea of saying goodbye again so soon, of eating and sleeping alone, all that. Ugh, and I get to do it again next month when he goes to SERE school.

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December 19, 2008


I got a call that they were arriving early, so I raced out of the house at 4:25. Guess what? More delays. We just got home, at 10:45.


But the look on my husband's face when Charlie tackled him in the kitchen was priceless.

On Tuesday, my husband apparently told his roommate in Iraq, "Do you know what this is?" His buddy said, "Your uniform?" My husband said, "The uniform my wife's gonna peel off of me tonight."

Yeah, three days later, he's still wearing that exact same uniform. Ewww.

We solved the mystery of where he's been all week. The story is too horrible and annoying to repeat.

But it doesn't matter anymore.

He's home.

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When my husband finally gets home, we will have a big mystery solved. The Mystery of Where He's Been All Week. Because I have no idea.

I keep calling people to give them updates -- my mom, his mom, friends -- and they want to know what's going on. They keep asking me questions that I simply don't know the answer to. They want me to speculate; I have learned it does no good to speculate about the Army. All I know is the one-line sentence I keep getting from the FRG: "We are meeting at the company area at ___ o'clock." Period.

I have no idea where he has been. I don't know if he was flying commercial or military. I don't know what he's been eating, what he's been wearing (he sure didn't have an extra week's worth of clothes in his ruck), where he's been sleeping. I don't know why none of the soldiers in the company have called home. I don't know if my husband has been getting this same hurry-up-and-wait treatment. I don't know if the delays have been due to weather or plane malfunction or what.

I wonder if he is hungry. I wonder if he gets on planes and gets back off of them, or if he's been sitting in the same room the whole week. I wonder if he's getting enough sleep, if he has a book to read, or if he has been as jittery as I've been.

I wonder if he's wondering what I've been thinking all week.

I can't wait to see him and give him a big hug. And I hope to solve the mystery in the car on the way home!

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With no new info this morning, I came down with a case of the screwits. I put no effort into looking nice: didn't shower, just threw on some clothes and went out to run my errands. And the morning was not going well. Fifteen minutes in line behind some guy buying a coat with no price tag using a tax-exempt number. Went to the military pharmacy -- 10 minutes to find a parking space -- and found 40 people in line ahead of me. Nevermind. And then the phone rang.

My husband is crossing the Atlantic as we speak.

Several people told me not to believe any info I have until it comes from my husband's mouth. Well, that's all fine and dandy except none of us in the unit have heard from our husbands since Monday. The only info we have is the official stuff. So I will head to pick up my husband at the designated time tonight and just hope that it's right. And that it doesn't change again.

It's not like things can get any worse, right?

Oh yeah, and I have to go back to work in the morning. I am trying to get out of that one.

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December 18, 2008


No news is good news, right?

So I got in the shower, shaved my legs, put on nice-smelling lotion, got out fancy underpants, and was just putting on the outfit I was going to pick my husband up in when the 1SG's wife called and said they did not get on the flight, that they have been completely scratched from the flight list, and that now we don't even know which day they are coming home, much less a time.

I was supposed to pick him up three hours from now.

This really, really sucks.

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December 17, 2008


We had a new ETA for late tonight, so I ran some errands today and started getting excited. I came home to a new message on my machine saying that this timeline is also not happening anymore. The husband is stuck in Europe, waiting on his next leg of the journey. Maybe tomorrow will be our lucky day. Right? This is excruciating.

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December 15, 2008


Aw, crap.
I just KNEW it was too good to be true.
Just got word that the husband's return has been delayed. there's no excuse for not washing the dog or cleaning the carpet.

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December 10, 2008


My husband has moved on, from where he was to where he will be. He is still In Country, but he is making progress towards home.

I keep finding myself doing the opposite of what I did with the tortillas earlier this year: every time I hear a deadline, I rejoice that it's after my husband's return. My husband gets home before our milk expires. He gets home before the movie I rented is due. He gets home soon.

God willing and the Creek don't rise, as they say around here.

(And in answer to the couple of questions I've gotten about what actually constitutes a "single digit midget': less than 10 days.)

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December 05, 2008


I had my FRG meeting tonight. The ladies were nice. I love our Rear D commander.

And we have a return date.

The end was so much harder for me last time. Last time, my husband was one of the last people home. I watched all my friends and neighbors welcome their husbands home three weeks before I did. That was rough. Last time my husband came home with a whole brigade, so there were ceremonies and fanfare. This time it's just a handful of families, and since all my friends are imaginary, it doesn't matter like it did last time. I honestly haven't been thinking about it. Even when Sis B's husband came home yesterday, it still didn't feel like my turn was coming up.

Even when I heard the dates and started talking about the return process -- where to pick him up, what he will need to do afterwards, when block leave starts -- it didn't really sink in.

But since I was on post, I had decided to make a stop at the Class Six: the husband has put in his booze request. And as I circled the store shopping, I started thinking that soon we would be drinking that booze together.

And then shit just got real: I am a few days away from being a single digit midget.

Couldn't wipe the grin off my face in that Class Six.

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