Author: To the Nth

Late to the Fill-In Party

7 Comments

My buddy over at Wife of a Sailor has concocted a new meme called the MilSpouse Friday Fill-In.  She’ll ask us some questions, we’ll dash off some answers, and then we add the link to our post to her blog via Mr. Linky.  Fun, right?

Observant readers might notice that today is Tuesday, not Friday.  My husband and I were out of town this weekend, riding roller coasters (not the metaphorical ones on which another of my blogging buddies so eloquently expounds) and visiting family, so my online time suffered.  Please pardon my tardiness.

How did you and your spouse/significant other meet?

I was sixteen years old, a high school junior, and he was a senior.  We got to know each other during our school’s production of Romeo and Juliet.  He was a Capulet, I was a Montague.  We fought onstage and everything.  After the show closed, we continued flirting for a few months until he finally asked me to his senior prom.  He was more nervous about asking me to the dance than he was about proposing marriage a little over four and a half years later.

What is the best thing about being a MilSpouse?

Figures--the first picture of myself I post on the blog and I'm in oversized flight gear and a too-small helmet.

I have had the opportunity to meet some wonderful people, servicemembers and spouses both, and do some pretty cool things.  For instance, the highlight of my time in Kingsville, Texas was getting to don all of my husband’s flight gear (which is pretty heavy, mind you) and strap into the back of a T-45A Goshawk for a “Taxi FAM.”  There was an instructor in the front telling me what to do, but I got to steer the jet around on the ground.  Flying the simulator was equally fun, even though my husband’s class adviser made me go first.  I’m proud of myself for not crashing the darn thing; not all the other wives could claim the same.

What is the hardest thing about being a MilSpouse?

The thing that makes me wail and gnash my teeth the most is abdicating control over basic decisions like where to live, how long to live there, and what to do on a day-to-day basis.  It rankles that the Navy decides for us things that would, under other circumstances, be matters for discussion and mutual agreement between my husband and myself.  Separations are difficult, too, but they fall under the umbrella of that lack of basic control: my husband doesn’t have a choice about where he goes and when he has to go there.  It’s tough not having input.

What is your favorite dish?

Like a lot of people, I’m sure I’d give different answers to this question over the course of even one day.  Some recurring favorites of mine include sushi, rib-eye steak, and my decadent macaroni and goat cheese.

If you could change one thing in this world, what would it be?

I suspect many problems both major and minor would be alleviated if human nature made it easier for us to realize that there is more than one approach to almost anything, and that while my way might be best for me, it’s not necessarily the best for every other person on the planet.  Your religion might be great for you, but mine works swimmingly for me.  I like cats, you prefer dogs.  Except in cases where one person’s or group’s pursuit of happiness is harming others, I think it would be just dandy if we could break the assumption that different is another word for wrong.

Memorial Day 2010

Leave a comment

What words could possibly be adequate to express gratitude for the sacrifice of those who died that I might enjoy the freedoms of my life in this beautiful country?  I am sure I do not have the skill to sculpt mere nouns and verbs and adjectives into art worthy of my debt to the men and women who have given their lives in service to their country, nor do I know what I could possibly say to those families who have exchanged a blue star for a gold one.  All I can do is remember, and promise that someday, should we be blessed with children, that I will teach them to remember, as well.

Glass Holes

10 Comments

The glass guy came yesterday and replaced my window.  Hooray, my car no longer has a gaping hole in it!  Boo, we’re out a couple hundred bucks to finance some vandalizing schmuck’s idea of a smashingly fun night out.  The auto glass repairman was a polite professional who was amusingly delighted with the bottle of Coke we gave him, although I must say that I hope we do not have cause to see him again in the future.

Now we need to figure out if there is a workable way to amend our car-parking situation so my car is off the street.  We have two cars and a one-car garage, which complicates things somewhat.  My husband, being a car enthusiast who loves his vehicle, parks in the garage with my blessing; we would be much more upset if something happened to his car than to mine.  I like my car and all, but it’s pretty much just an appliance to me, whereas my husband’s car is the sum of a lot of work and TLC over the past five years.

I definitely don’t want to start playing the car shuffle game that would need to ensue if I started parking in the driveway.  It is possible, just barely, for me to pull off to one side of the driveway and leave enough space for my husband to get in and out of the garage, but that leaves my car in the grass.  That would be less than ideal, especially since the latest issue of the neighborhood newsletter included a reminder that residents are not to park on unpaved areas of their property.  Is our only option to pave a parking area off to one side of the driveway?

Ugh.  I’d much rather be able to feel I can safely park my car in front of my own damn house without its smooth, newly replaced window glass shining like a beacon for bored teenagers inclined towards mischief.

Can We Trade Places?

13 Comments

I’ve been mentally composing a letter that will never find its way to its intended recipient:

Dear Vandal(s),

While I would hesitate to advocate violence in response to your crime, I must admit that I would find it difficult to be unhappy if someone were to smash in your teeth the way you smashed in my car window.  The poetic justice of that particular revenge fantasy appeals to me on a deep and somewhat disturbing level.

Regards,
The owner of a glass-strewn and extremely well-ventilated vehicle

So, remember that relaxing Shabbat I was planning to enjoy?  The one where I was going to unplug from the world for a time and enjoy a little spiritual renewal?  It was not to be.

My day had been going quite well until my doorbell rang; I answered it to find my neighbor on my porch asking me if I’d seen my car.  Thinking she was referring to the flat tire we hadn’t yet gotten around to fixing, I said yes, thank you for pointing it out, we’re planning on getting all new tires anyway.

“No, not that!  Your window, did you see your window?”

I had not.  Nor was I, apparently, destined ever to see it in one piece again, for the glass on the driver’s side had been transformed from a functional car window into a sparkly collection of glass shards, a swath of glitter bestowed liberally on the street in front of my house and the interior of my poor car.

Most of you reading this are probably familiar with the Military Spouse Corollary to Murphy’s Law: “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong while your other half is out of town.” My husband had already been away for most of the week, and at the moment my day of rest was so rudely interrupted, was living it up at an airshow and having all manner of amazing aerial experiences of which I would have been extremely envious at the best of times.

Get this: while I was making a police report and trying to sweep up a million shards of broken glass without cutting myself and taping a garbage bag over the gaping hole  in my car, that lucky so-and-so I married was getting to ride in “Fat Albert.”  You know, the C-130 in the Blue Angels?

Fat Albert

The Blue freakin’ Angels, y’all.

I’m so jealous I could just spit.

I love sharing so many interests with my husband, especially a fascination with aviation.  Sometimes, though — if I’m being totally honest — it is hard to see him get to do things that I would love to do and experience things about which I can only dream.  And when I hear about something like that when I am stuck at home having a horrendous day… well.

Please don’t misunderstand: I truly am excited for him when he is presented with these incredible opportunities, and I would never want him not to take advantage of such a chance just because I would envy him.  I love hearing the joy in his voice when he shares this or that story with me.

Yesterday, though?  You’re damn right I would have traded places with him.  When I told him as much, he understood (of course he did; he’s a pretty wonderful guy like that).  We agreed that it would be only fair if next time, I went gallivanting off to the air show and he stayed home to deal with any crap that might arise.

You don’t think his squadron will mind when I show up in his place for the next cross-country, do you?

Shabbat Shalom

11 Comments

Thanks to the MilSpouse Blog Hop, I have been having fun all day bouncing from one fount of fascinating new reading material to the next.  If I owe the pleasure of your blog-reading company to Wife on the Roller Coaster’s kind introduction, welcome once again and thank you for sticking around past my blog hop bio.  To those who have been reading all along, you already know I’m fond of you!  Or if you didn’t, you do now.

Though I have tried doggedly to stay caught up, the list of eighty-eight (at the time of this writing) participants is more than even this avid online content connoisseur can handle in one day.  If I haven’t yet made my way over to your blog, I will endeavor to do so over the next week.  Tonight and tomorrow until sundown, however, I will be taking a break from the blogosphere for Shabbat, the Jewish sabbath.  Some weeks I’m more successful than others, but every Friday night and Saturday, I try to unplug from the online world that can seem all-consuming during the week.  It’s nice to put down the computer and breathe for a day, and it’s also lovely to reconnect with everyone after Shabbat’s conclusion.

I just wanted to let you know that if you leave a comment or send me an email or follow me on Twitter or what-have-you sometime between this evening and tomorrow night, I will not respond right away.  I promise I’m not ignoring you.  I’ll get back to my bloggish obligations real soon.

Challah!

Nothing makes the house smell better than fresh-baked bread. Nothing in the world.

Right now, though, it’s time to light some candles, drink some wine, and enjoy some fresh, homemade challah.  Shabbat Shalom, everyone.  May you have a peaceful, restful weekend.