Sunday afternoon is drifting into evening, I have a glass of red wine in hand, and I miss my husband. (I wonder how many other military wives out there could start out with that precise sentence at this very moment. I can’t be the only one relaxing into the day’s end with a pleasant vino.) He’s been away for a couple weeks flying day and night to get ready to take the beast that is the C-2A Greyhound to the Boat — and yes, I’m far too immersed in the world of tailhook aviation to refer to an aircraft carrier as anything other than “the Boat,” make the SWOs wince though the term might. Actually, from what I’ve seen, most Nasal Radiators will cheerfully admit that irritating SWOs is a wonderful reason to say “Boat” instead of “ship.”
Uh. Where was I? That’s one pitfall of mixing blogging with alcohol: my merry path through a given paragraph is far more likely to involve detours and sidetracks. Bear with me and I’ll eventually figure out where I was going. Or not. Isn’t the journey supposed to be the important thing, anyway?
So my husband is getting ready for carrier qualification, which means that we can almost make out the light at the end of the FRS tunnel. If all goes as planned, we should soon find out where we will be stationed for my husband’s first sea tour. The wait is agonizing. We are both ready to be done with life in limbo and learn what it’s like to have some semblance of geographical stability for a predetermined (or at least a lot more concrete than anyplace we’ve been previously) period of time. At this point, I am trying to tell myself that regardless of whether we get our top location choice, knowing that we have three years anywhere is an amazing prospect.
Oh, who am I kidding? I’m quietly freaking out over the possibility that we might have to launch into full-blown PCS mode before the end of the month, this time with a house to prepare for rental and feline overlords to transport across the country (or into another country) rather than simply a lease to dissolve and ourselves to get from Point A to Point B.
I know I would grow to enjoy either of the not-staying-here possibilities, but damn, do I ever hate the uprooting/moving/household-reestablishing process and all its associated chaos.
The worst part about right now is that we could either be mere weeks away from a move or we could be three years away from even the possibility. I sure wish I knew which it was, because I might be borrowing a whole lot of trouble I don’t really need. Luckily, I am told that sipping a glass of wine is an excellent way to focus on the moment instead of getting worked up over things about which one cannot do a thing except wait.
4 thoughts on “Wine Helps”
I hope you find out sooner rather than later, but sipping wine sounds like a pretty good way to focus on the moment to me! I’m totally with you on the uprooting/moving/household-reestablishing process… it feels like we just finished settling into our house (which we basically did) and now I’m told that we could possibly be leaving here by the end of the year. On the one hand, I’ll be glad to get out of here and (knock on wood) start my psychology PhD program, but I know I’ll miss our little house here…
Moving pretty much sucks. I’d much rather indulge any incipient wanderlust with travel from a stable home base to which we can return after seeing what we want to see. That said, I really have always gotten to feel like the new place is “home” relatively quickly once the move has been made (even the place on base in Corpus we were only in for three months). Still, knowing that it would eventually be okay does nothing to increase my desire to see our life in cardboard boxes again.
Oh well. Sipping wine would no doubt make that go down easier, too!
Wine is always a good idea. Man, I hate waiting for orders and then dealing with the craziness of PCS’ing. Hopefully you’ll find something out soon. Whenever we’re awaiting orders, I try not to wish one way or the other because I don’t want to get excited about something that will never happen. Definitely not one of the happier times in military life. Good luck!
Thanks for the well wishes! Taking care not to get one’s heart set on a single outcome is good advice. Try as I might, though, I can’t keep our preference from creeping into my thoughts in this case. I think I would feel differently if I knew for a fact that we would be moving somewhere; having one of the options be to stay put and not have to deal with PCSing at all definitely puts a different light on things for me.