Lucky Ducky

Sometimes you have a week where lots of good things happen to you and lots of bad things happen to other people. It is usually pretty easy to determine when the bad things happen, but the good things are often interpreted through mood or comparison.

This week, I learned that two people have cancer. The first is the person who married Joe and I. The second is the person who introduced us.

It was hard to swallow both of these realities. No matter what else is going on in your life, when you hear things like that you should realize how good you have it and how lucky you are not to personally experience Fear Number Five (refer to Week 48).

For me, the last deployment served as the "bad thing" that made other aspects of my life look much more rosy - especially once Joe was home. After living a year without Joe, it became blatantly obvious that that was the worst thing that could happen to me. As a result, it became very difficult for me to take Joe for granted when I did have him, as having him was logically the best thing that could happen to me.

Smelly PTs all strewn about? Doesn't matter.

Mazes of treacherous computer cords? Doesn't matter.

This deployment came with my full understanding that Joe and I will get through it just as we did the last one and that as before we would be better for it. Each reunion is a honeymoon, a second chance to begin a new life together and to reaffirm to yourself and your partner that you are where you want to be.

A map of your priorities and a "you are here" sign is the best gift any bad experience can provide.

Week 46

Today I ripped another week off my little stack of numbered post-its and began the 46th week. The weeks count backwards of course, next week I will only have 45 weeks of the deployment left.

The air conditioner at home is broken. As it turns out I think I fell out of bed the other night from tossing and turning because I was overheated. After calling half-a-dozen AC repair shops I came to the sad conclusion that they all charge you way too much to basically do nothing more than show up at your house. Molestation in its purest form.

Last night I went to a spa party, which my husband was more informed about than I. He explained to me, "they put stuff on you and then you buy it." That's pretty much what happened. I admit that my face does feel like a baby bum, but who is to say which of the 50 zillion products I tried made it feel that way?

As someone who generally washes her face in dish soap, or whatever is sitting on the counter at the moment (yes, even Ajax), I was rather perturbed that facial cleaning products could cost a small fortune. I resigned to accept my fate, by convincing myself that I had at least saved several thousand dollars over the past 26 years of my life by cleansing with dollar-store dish soap and if I was to avoid having my joules jiggle below my lack-luster lips by age 30, I'd better suck it up.

Happy Birthday

This past weekend was my birthday and I went home to spend the special day with my family. After a one and a half hours drive to the airport, a two hour flight and another drive to my family's home, exhaustion set in. I didn't realize how not well I had been sleeping until I was safe in my mother's house. I slept like a rock.

I had good laughs with my family, we cooked out for my birthday dinner, then roasted marsh-mellows over the fire. All wrapped up in a blanket sitting in front of the fire, the only thing missing was my husband.

I got back to NC bright an early Monday morning with enough time to drive an hour and a half to work and be late. Exhausted I struggled through the day only to come home to a messy house and a broken air conditioner.

Then, last night I fell out of bed. Even as an infant, I have never fallen out of bed. What in the world?

Meet Me in My Dreams

My husband has been getting up at the crack of sandy dawn in Iraq to call me, so that I can talk to him before I go to bed. This time usually works well for us because we can both focus on our conversation without being interrupted. It's hard, however, for me to get off of the phone with him knowing that it will be many months before I see him again. It's difficult to say goodbye.

My husband can always tell when I am upset or crying, even when I do my best to hide it so as not to make him feel bad or worry.

Many times before we say goodnight, we choose a rendezvous point at which to meet each other in our dreams. Last night we choose to meet on the second deck of the Eiffel tower for a glass of champagne. I wore my white sundress and the late summer night weather was perfect, and the lights of Paris magnificent.

I love playing this game with my husband. It's much easier to get off the phone with someone by saying that you will see them in Paris, than not. But I still find it pitiful that I have to resort to my unpredictable dreams to get a moment with my own husband.

Fear Number Three

Usually my fears are irrational. I lay in bed at night trying to convince myself that I am totally insane and should spend less time worry about nonsense. Unfortunately, one of my deployment fears was realized sooner than expected.

Being the fabulous albeit part-time homemaker that I am, I decided to finish landscaping the front garden with some lovely mulch - Fifteen bags of mulch to be exact.

I arrive at Lowes and happily load up my cart. After all, I had gotten an early start to my day. A nice older gentleman offered to help me pull my overflowing cart to the checkout and then, as good Lowes employees do, offered to help me load my car.

How could I turn down an offer like that?

Good customer service turned bad, when the man not only loaded my car, but locked and closed my door as well. My car is of the particular automatic type where locking one door locks all of them. And yes, as I was hauling large amounts of wood chips from my cart to my backseat - my purse was conveniently stored in the front seat of the car - as were my car keys.

It felt as though it was happening in slow motion. I stood there in awe. Seriously. Did that just happen?

So here I am, smelly as can be after working in the yard all morning and foregoing a shower, stranded in the Lowes parking lot with a remorseful old man and not even a dollar for a bottle of water.

I'm pissed. But I am also at the mercy of the Lowes employee at this point. I try to curb the attitude, unsuccessfully at first, when he announced to his fellow employees that I had locked myself out of my car. I had to protect my honor and even if I didn't, my mouth gets the best of me and I spouted out, "No - you locked me out of my car." Clearly he had never tangoed with a smelly blonde wearing over sized Army PT shorts, pink flip-flops and yesterdays make-up.

I pull the sob story: "Well I would call my husband, but he is deployed to Iraq - FOR A YEAR!" Go ahead wallow in it.

Since that did nothing to improve my spirits and surely sunk the Lowes man's, I turned a new leaf. The Lowes man showed me to a rocking bench displayed at the font of the store. He even brought me green tea. And there I sat and sat and sat for nearly two hours waiting for car-pros to come and financially abuse me.

As it turned out, Lowes employees are required to take a one hour mid-shift break. I met all of the Lowes smokers and made some new friends. I even got a suntan on my pasty looking legs.

But most importantly I confronted fear number three. I was stranded without a friend of family member in flying distance to rescue me and I lived to blog about it.

Week 48

The Army is a bastard. I think I can say that because I am married to it. I just began my second deployment. I deployed to the-middle-of-no-where North Carolina and my husband deployed to Iraq. Looking on the bright side, this deployment is only 12 months long, whereas the last one was 15.

I don't live on post and I don't have any children. I do have a great job, a long commute and reality TV to keep me warm at night.

Last week, while at the dentist having my teeth cleaned, my hygenist engaged me in a lengthy and emotional conversation about Army-Wifedom. She too was (oh the horror) childless in her mid twenties, and employed. Neither of us lived in military housing nor were able to attend the many support events provided for left behind family members, as most of these occur during working hours. We laughed about our fears and important lessons learned and she said to me, "you will be just fine, you're one tough cookie."

I encounter more of us each day. We are independent women, far from our families, working and struggling to find meaning in a world that, with marriage on hiatus, often seems to be without center and without purpose.

Over the next 11 months of this deployment I will continue to search for meaning in my own life and newfound independence and I will let you know what I find.


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One of the hardest things about beginning a deployment is fear of the unknown. My top ten deployment fears are as follows:

1.) I am deeply afraid of the chain-saw massacre man who I am quite certain is living in the woods behind my house

2.) I fear dead zones, do to which I may miss a call from my husband

3.) I am scared of flat-tires, dead battaries and any other type of obscure car trouble that could leave me stranded

4.) Cockroaches - enough said.

5.) I fear sickness. Me, my husband, our families, our pets. Dealing with this alone has and can be a total nightmare.

6.) Death. I think that anyone who has a loved one in harms way day-in and out has this fear. Family members of police officers to firemen/women to service people face this fear each day. It is my greatest, most gut-wrenching fear and therefore it consitutes numbers 6, 7, 8, 9 and 10 of my deployment fears.