It's been a pretty great couple of weeks. I resigned from a volunteer position that sucked the life out of me, and also made me realize a lot of people live in their own little worlds, entirely selfish worlds and can't admit anything unpleasant to themselves. But enough of that, I've moved on, and know reality will be a bitch when they wake up.The very next day, I enrolled in a program for military spouses that pays up to $6,000 for schooling. I've always been interested in medical transcription, but I was always too cheap to pay for the schooling. My friend told me about the program, and within a few days I was accepted into the medical transcription certificate program through Kaplan University, with everything paid for by MyCAA. Score!I'm fully immersed in my first real class, Medical Language, and I absolutely love it. I would spend all day every day doing the work if I could. I find every single aspect of it intriguing, and I love learning. Needless to say, this is one of the best things I've ever done for myself. I can't wait for all my next courses, and the best thing is that before July, I'll have my certificate in hand, ready to work, from home...being not much of a people person (the general public irritates the living shit out of me) it's a perfect job for me. It's never too late or too early to begin something new. It's felt so great, so refreshing to start a new chapter in life.
Thursday afternoon will be tough. It's the day we will honor our unit's three fallen Soldiers with a memorial. Adam decided to volunteer me to be the FRG representative several years ago for a memorial at our old battalion. When I got there, and saw I was smack in the front row, between the two families, I panicked. I didn't know their sons, I didn't know them, and I felt very uncomfortable. Everything was fine until they did rollcall. I was absolutely devastated when the sergeant major was calling out for the fallen Soldiers. For a split second, I wondered, "Doesn't he know they've passed away? Why is he calling for them? Why isn't anyone telling him they're not here?" Then I realized it's a tradition, and the sergeant major hadn't gone batshit crazy. That's when my tears started. I could hear the families crying, and I could not stop my own tears from falling. Though I didn't know the Soldiers, rollcall will drive the toughest nut to crack and cry. It's incredibly sad. Then, of course, they played Taps. This will happen again at the memorial Thursday afternoon, when we will honor three incredibly brave men who gave the ultimate sacrifice for their country, for all of us. These men will rightly be honored, and many tears have and will be shed for them, mine included. RLTW.
I like variety, especially when I'm shopping. That said, I shopped for 13 years at the commissary on Fort Benning, because it really was a hell of a lot cheaper than "real" grocery stores.Since moving, I now go to regular grocery stores, and have been patronizing the nearest Food Lion for the past year. It's incredibly better than shopping at the commissary, even if it is more expensive. It's not worth my time or gas to drive to the commissary on Hunter Army Airfield - it's tiny and I hate always having to tip the baggers when I'm very well capable of putting the bags in my car.Today I was giddy when I found a Kroger within a 10-minute drive of our house. I'm not one to foray into the unknown (we've driven around the area, but never to this part of town) so I looked up the store online and followed the directions. It was like pulling into the parking lot of heaven. A Starbucks, inside the store? Hell yeah, give me a LARGE (I feel stupid saying venti) coffee. For some reason, the bigger the store, the more comfortable I feel. I browsed around that store for a good 45 minutes, amazed they sell pots and pans and even coffee makers. I know this is quite normal for regular people, which is why I feel pretty lame being this excited. Sometimes it's nice to feel like a "normal" person, not part of the military community. Don't get me wrong, I love the military life, and will miss it someday, but after 13 years of living on post, I'm really enjoying living among civilians, in a regular house we pay a mortgage on, and shopping at regular grocery stores.
It's cold, and that seems to be all anyone wants to talk about. No shit it's cold, it's January. There's a season called Winter, and it's currently happening. Sure, it's colder than it's "supposed" to be. It happens. You know when it feels like a million degrees in the Summer? That's what's happening, just in reverse.I am digging the cold. Sometimes I actually miss the New England winters of my youth, though not very often. I like a little taste of it now and then. Of course, if it's still like this in two weeks, I'll be among the bitching. For now, I'm going to enjoy the sweaters, blankets, fires in the fireplace and warm comfort food courtesy of Paula Deen and sons' cookbooks.
I have no clue why, but lately I'm the goddess of domestic. I wake up and start thinking about what I can clean. I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, because in the last two (almost three) years of not working, I have not been the best housewife I could have been. Who wouldn't rather sit on their ass watching t.v.? Not everyone is lazy like me, and I'd prefer to lounge on the couch and read a book, read a magazine, stalk people on Facebook or anything besides clean.So what has gotten into me? I guess I've finally grasped the concept that I am a housewife, and this is my job. No one else is going to dust the furniture, because, really, between Adam and Addison, they are male and don't notice dust. They also don't notice that the toilet bowl is big enough to be able to get all their urine inside it, not on the outside. I'm thinking of trying to get them to sit when peeing. Maybe I'll stitch up a sampler of the tried but true, "If you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweetie, wipe the seatie." Regardless, I feel good having a clean house and underwear in my drawer, not languishing in a basket. I have found out I can cook. I'm not spectacular and will never be invited to be on The Next Food Network Star, but I've moved beyond tacos and beef stew. I even bought myself a Paula Deen hand grater, and a zester, because everyone needs a zester, right?
Not-so-breaking-news...Adam has been home a week. YAY! It was a most joyous homecoming, and I've never been happier to have him home after an especially hellacious deployment.Here's where I'm honest - there's a fair amount of guilt associated with his homecoming, and with my own happiness. I can't help but think of the wife who's husband came home in a casket 3 1/2 months ago. It's almost Christmas, and she doesn't have that opportunity to spend it with her husband. I can't even imagine what pain she must feel, and because of this, I feel a modicum of guilt feeling so happy. I don't want to feel guilty, but I do. It's not overwhelming, but it affects me. Maybe I'm more sensitive than I ever thought. How many of the other wives/girlfriends are thinking about her, or are so selfish they are only focused on themselves?Or is it not selfishness? I really don't know. I'm confused as to how I should feel about this. I don't think I'll ever forget hearing that news. It will stay with me the rest of my life. Hopefully, with time, that pain will subside. For the widow, though, it's probably a lifetime. My thoughts and prayers are always, always with her.
It's another one of those days, when I want nothing to do with anyone or anything. Unfortunately, I have a meeting tonight I have to show up to. It's a good meeting, but I don't feel like I'm able to paste a smile on and be happy to see a bunch of other wives. I'm sure once I get there I'll be fine, but a lot of times I have a hard time keeping my mouth shut, especially when someone really irks the shit out of me. I've been cleaning all day, and it's been therapeutic for the most part. It's always nice to have a spotless bathroom. That is, until I use the pot tomorrow morning. I'll get over it, and tomorrow's another day. I hate falling into a funk, hate it hate it hate it. I wish I could kick my own ass some days.
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