Oh, right.

Joyous day, as we've found out Sean isn't going to Alabama. At all. Such is the army life - you grow accustomed to getting the run-around, getting faked out.

About 2.5 years ago, I knew nothing about the military. My father hadn't been drafted, I didn't talk to my estranged grandfather about what he had seen in WWII. I was one grade-A civilian. I didn't know quite what to expect when I waltzed onto Ramstein AB in December '07, and then warmed up to Baumholder in '08. I was introduced to this separate world, this unknown culture. Terminology is different, everyone speaks in acronyms. Places have different names, everyone wears the same uniform, everyone is essentially working towards the same goal. Waking up to Reveille in the morning, listening to PT formations call cadence as they run by. Call to Quarters playing at the end of the work day. It was all very alien to me at first. I had sworn up and down for so long that I'd have nothing to do with the military, those brainwashing scum. And now, thinking about all of it, I feel just a touch 'hooah'.

I don't ever say it, and I probably won't again. But it had to go in there somewhere. I digress.

I used to assume that the military, especially the Army, would be very industrious and efficient with all the orders and paperwork that go with every soldier. Like a well-oiled machine, no? Alas, that's not how things are. And everyday, something so simple as turning in some forms or requesting a piece of equipment that ISN'T broken becomes the fucking Odyssey. I feel for Sean everyday, and wish I could do more to help. Instead, I am the best wife I can be - I've been making his lunches everyday, taking care of the house, etc. I do what I can. I think this is how most military wives live.