TDY Lesson on Stuff

Things for me to remember the next time we do a long TDY and will be staying at a Residence Inn.

I think it was Sarah who suggested taking things to make the space a little more like home. We did that. We took several pictures, including the one that Jack Bauer had carted all over Iraq. We also took several throws and Jack had the pillowcase that some nice stranger had sent him while he was deployed. I think those touches made the space feel much more like our own.

Other super handy things: laundry basket, actually two laundry baskets. I spent quite a bit of time in the laundry room and folding laundry. I watched many people attempt to carry there clothes in the small laundry bags the hotel provides, in small bags from stores, in their arms. I pakced my clothes in the laundry baskets when I left for C-ville. When we left for Cav Canyon, one doubled as a box.

Low storage containers. We had three with us and with lids off, they fit perfectly under the bed. Since we had more clothes than space to store them, these were great for daily duty as drawers. We packed some kitchen items in them when we came and when we left.

A color printer. I was able to do my work and I made a card for a 4-year-old's birthday. We used the printer a startling amount. I am glad we had it with us. I used a big plastic container as my office storage space and put the printer on top.

Kitchen items. We knew that there would be the basics in the kitchenette, so we brought what we thought we'd need. A large wok. A good solid skillet. (The pots and pans provided were thin bottomed and I burned more things than I can possibly recall.) Our own knife set in a traveling knife case. A rice cooker. (Someone brought their slow cooker.) Four fiesta plates and two bowls. Salt and pepper grinders. Cloth napkins. A large cutting board.

Some things I bought once we were in C-ville. Kitchen towels. One per day was insufficient for me, and I couldn't seem to get them to part with three clean ones at a time. I bought some cheap ones at Bed Bath and Beyond. A little over-the-cabinet-door bar for hanging the towels on so they could dry. A lemon juicer. Dishwasher detergent. I got tired real fast of asking for extra everyday. Placemats. Since it was summer, I bought a second bathing suit.

Next time. I would bring our own vegetable peeler. The one in the room was super wimpy. Peeling carrots with a wimpy vegetable peeler makes me grouchy.

Hitting the road

The chapter called C-ville is closing.

Now we are off to OFDSville. Heh.

I hope I have some good Internet access on the road and once we get into town. I'll check back in when I can.

Catch ya soon.

Graduation Day

Today my super spectacular husband graduates! Yay!

Then shortly after that we get to start packing up and loading up the cars. Although we had very little use for two cars this summer, two are definitely needed for getting our stuff to its destination. (Linda - no, the town where we are headed to is not called OFDS, or our first duty station. Heh. Just a few more days to the big reveal.)

I just finished up a big project yesterday and it feels soooooo goood to be done. Feel like I really accomplished something. And I got paid to do it. Even better. Woohoo!

Gotta go get dressed for the big graduation ceremony. Catch you later.

Do you think he'll notice?

I was just doing the last loads of laundry here at the Residence Inn. One sock insisted on remaining in room for this process.

If I just fold that one dirty sock up with its clean mate, do you think Jack Bauer will notice? Heh.

Why do I do this?

Here were are about to leave for our new duty station and embark on a big trip and whole set of unknowns once we get there.

And Jack Bauer's parents came to town to see him graduate.

So why is it that I took on a big project that had be work nearly 40 hours in the last week and really needs to be done before I leave in three days???

There is a hundred little things that need to be done before we leave, but I can't remember what they are right now.

This makes me grouchy! At least I don't have to babysit the in laws. But I do like spending time with them.

Right, right, right. I'll do what I can and that will have to be good enough. The less I worry about it, the more I'll get done. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I am sure I have a million other little sayings that would apply to this situation, but I can't remember them right now.

I'm off to do the USPS address forwarding things. At least that is one thing done. Can someone remind me what the other 99 are?

Time in C-ville is winding down

Fall. The temperature has dropped. The windows are open all day and all night. Change is coming.

Just a few more days left here in C-ville. My time living in a hotel with no oven is coming to an end. I've struggled with changing from struggling to feed just myself to struggling to feed me and Jack Bauer. My jeans got tight. It is back to Weight Watchers when get to our new home.

Change is around the corner.

Our time here has really given Jack and I the opportunity to know each other again. We shared nearly every meal together here. We've watched a lot of TV together; I've started watching more news and he's started watching more Project Runway. We've spent a lot of time laughing. Some things haven't changed at all, like our perpetual debate over what to do for dinner. (Neither of us likes to make that decision. It is a discussion that can begin shortly after breakfast.)

Hopefully some things won't change. But I am really hoping for our new home to have a proper kitchen. With an oven.

Reflecting

I stayed up late last night doing some work. Maybe subconsciously I was hoping that I would just magically sleep through this day.

When I finally got my feet on the floor this morning, I wasn't sure why I was getting up. I don't feel so good: a combination of cold medicine and lack of water overnight has my head feeling like tight, hallowed-out coconut. But as is my routine, I got up and turned on Fox News. And it occurred to me that I really don't want to relive this day. Within minutes of listening to the sober news coverage, I was crying, just I was seven years ago.

I was thinking I might write about where I was seven years ago today. But where I was physically, driving between New Orleans and southern Illinois, is not particularly important. Where I was metaphorically, isolated from the rest of the world, is probably what had the greatest impact on me. And in many ways, it is where I remain today.

Jack Bauer and I were driving back from a long weekend trip with his parents in New Orleans. After a weekend of good eating, we got into the car and were on the road by 7 AM listening to CDs the whole way. We arrived in West Memphis, AR about lunch time. Jack had mentioned seeing flags in Mississippi and Tennessee flying at half-staff.

"I wonder if Dick Cheney died," he mumbled.

We pulled into a KFC/Taco Bell/gas station to get something to eat and stretch our legs and relieve our coffee-filled bladders. As I waited to place our order, a guy walked up to his friend working behind the counter.

"Gas has already gone up $.50," he said, shaking his head with a wry smirk.

Not normally one to talk to strangers, but flags at half staff and gas prices going up, piqued my interest.

"What's going on? Why is gas up?" I innocently asked.

I was stunned by his response. I thought he was joking with me at first, but I could see from the reaction of those around him that something serious had happened. I mean really, how could two of the largest buildings in the world be taking down with planes. It seemed like someone's imagination run amock.

Jack and I ate mostly in silence and disbelief. Someone helped us find a local radio station so we could hear about what was going on. As Jack drove, I sat in silence, tears unable to stop streaming down my cheeks. I knew what he was thinking about.

The best man at our wedding, a NJ National Guardsman, worked across the street from Ground Zero in the World Financial Center. Our thoughts turned to him and his family, a wife and two little girls. An MP, our friend was the type to run into danger. We didn't have any phone numbers for them with us. We'd have to get home first. The next day we learned that they were in Florida. On vacation. They were safe.

I didn't know any one who was killed that day. But my life has been forever altered. Seven years later, I sit in a hotel room alone typing to strangers. My husband is attending school. Just as he was seven years ago.

In the years since 2001, Jack was pulled out of the IRR (Individual Ready Reserve) and placed in the Army Reserves. He has deployed to Iraq and stayed on for another tour. He has now returned to Active Duty Army.

The isolation along the way has been self-imposed, a comes from desire to find people who understand and live the lasting significance of that day. It took a while. You people were not easy for me to find.

And as I reflect on this day seven years ago, I keeping thinking that 9/11 was the day we as a country woke up. As I reflect on the last seven years, I keeping thinking that most of America has fallen back asleep, only reminded occasionally that things go bump in the night, but are easily fixed with a bit of parental magic. I hope, sincerely hope, that at least one day a year, most people remember that they were awake once and think about those who still are on their behaves.

No matter how much I wanted to sleep in this morning, I knew I couldn't sleep away this day. I am wide awake.


Fox News is running its ticker with just the names of those who died on Sept. 11, 2001. When I started writing this post, they were on the C's. Now they are just getting to the M's. *sigh*

UPDATE 1209: Fox News is on the S's.

This and that and something about ROADTRIP!!!

First, today is the last day to nominate your favorite milblog. Starting tomorrow, the top 5 in each category will be up for voting. Get started here. If you are new to the milblogging community, check out the branch rankings for to see the variety this community has to offer. (I can't state strongly enough how much this community means to me.)

Now that I have that out of the way, what has been going on with BW since the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day that pool closed? Well, I am glad you asked.

I started a project that is paying me actual money! That is very exciting. But that's all I'll say. Sorry for the tease. not. *snicker*snort*

I am beginning to freak out about the next step in this adventure. Soon I am heading back to Middleville to oversee the packers/movers. Our house has been sitting all dolled up, or rather all straightened and staged up, so it could be is showable condition to sell. No offers yet. But I need stuff when we get to our first duty station, so back to Middleville I go. Most of our stuff is in boxes in the finished attic. I am giving myself two days and unlimited amounts of coffee and diet coke to go through and document it all. I am taking Jack Bauer's camera to photograph some of the more valuable stuff. (Someday I will get my own digital camera. Someday.)

And I have to drive to Middleville by myself. It is a long-ass drive for one person to do in one day. At least going west from here I get the curvature of the earth to help and I go back into central time zone. Coming back? I'm not sure I want to think about that yet. I might be kind to myself and stop on the road.

But what am I complaining about? I've got a sweet new ride, XM radio, an assortment of books on CD, a cell phone. If only I could cruise the Internet while I drive, life would be almost perfect.

For the books on CD, I went to the local library and checked out Danielle Steel's Sisters, Dick Francis' Dead Heat, The Heidi Chronicles, April in Paris [note: I am in love with the idea of Paris, which is easy to be when you've never been], The Voice of the Poet: TS Eliot, and The Voice of the Poet: e.e. cummings. These last two are only an hour long. I got them to "broaden my horizons." I just hope they don't put me to sleep. The other stuff should be entertaining enough.

Any of you taken long road trips by yourself? What do you do to entertain yourself in the car?

Live but not actually liveblogging

I'm live in Norfolk at the SpouseBUZZ Live event. Holy cow!

Already metup with AWTM, Sarah, Andi, Guard Wife, Joan D'Arc, Wife Unit, AFW, LAW, Susan (Pot& Kettle), and Slightly Salty.

Hurricane Hanna be damned! As a bunch of milspouses, we won't let a little rain and wind get in our way. We've dealt with much worse during deployment.

Since I'm not good at listening and typing, I've got to go! See you later.

Off to SpouseBUZZ Live

I'm off to the Norfolk area later today to see some of my favorite imaginary friends, including meeting some for the first time, and to meet completely new people too. But one thing we'll all have in common is that we are milspouse sisters.

Now, I will say that I am not really a naturally outgoing person. I do it in these circumstances because I know it is good for me and it is what I actually want. But that doesn't not mean it is easy or comfortable for me. So it is all an act. Well, at least at first.

Here's my MO. I meet someone for the first time in person, I am reserved at first. Some people might describe it as being standoffish. (I'm working on that.) I don't why I do this. Some self-protection I suppose. Chances are if you are a talker, I will just let you talk. I promise I warm up after a while, and the next thing you'll know I am a regular Chatty Cathy. You'll know I am really comfortable when I start dropping f-bombs or start snorting when I laugh.

And for those who will be there and haven't met me before, you will recognize me by my butterfly necklace. If I don't recognize you, please come introduce yourself to me. I promise I won't bite. (Everyone knows butterflies don't bite!) See you soon!

Horror of horrors

They closed the hotel pool already.

So what if Labor Day has passed. It is still summer!

Yesterday's high? 91.

Today's expected high? 93.

Weather forecast expect temps in the mid-80s for another week.

I am sad. This means summer is coming to an end.

And this means PCSing is coming up. And that makes me whiney. (I don't wanna! I don't wanna!)

Good thing SpouseBUZZ Live is this weekend. And I am going to meet some wonderful people and reconnect with some of my other imaginary friends.

Margaritaville AAR

It would have been nice if I had wasted the last three days in Margaritaville. But alas, I have mostly just been avoiding writing.

We did go to the Jimmy Buffett concert on Saturday night. It was an eye-opening experience. I figured we would show up early and find a nice patch of lawn to hang out on. By my thinking 45 minutes pre-show would be plenty early. With that in mind, Jack and I enjoyed a rather quick drive through the countryside, enjoying the beauty of this state. We had no trouble finding the venue, but as we pulled up the parking lot was overflowing. I have never witnessed such a sea of cars parked in a somewhat organized fashion. It was like a used car lot on steroids, lots and lots of steroids.

As we pulled in we had a good 50 minutes before the show started. By the time we were directed to our parking spot we had 30 minutes to showtime. It took us 15 minutes to walk to the venue gates. But what a walk it was. We enter another universe. Grass skirts, coconut bras, flower shirts, abound. And those were just the men. Bikini tops, leis, and drinks with umbrellas. As we walked I was very self-conscious as to my chosen attire: blue jeans and a red short sleeve blouse, and um, hiking shoes and socks. While I did see a few other people with jeans that went all the way to the ground like mine, we were definitely few and far between. Jack smartly wore shorts. (I don't do shorts.) I bet I was the only person wearing socks, though.

We swam through the crowds and cleared the gate with about five minutes to go before show time. Now we had to climb about 100 steps to reach the grass. Good thing I have been walking the doggies all over the grounds in C-ville and up the 87 steps to Jack's school. After passing the biggest whiner in America ("OMG! These steps are killer! Where is the escalator?!?" the whiner exclaimed repeatedly to his 10-year-old obese daughter who was managing up the steps quite well), we arrived at the top and now a sea of people. The lawn area was filled. And any hope of the possibility of a chair rental quickly left the pavilion. We ventured off to the side to find a restroom only to see that they were located at the bottom of another set of stairs.

And so down we went. Pottied, I turned my attention to the merchandise. All along this journey in C-ville, we have collected souvenirs of the places we've visited. And this Jimmy Buffett experience was no different. I was kinda hoping they would have beach towels, which first of all would fit in perfect with the theme of Jimmy Buffett, but it would also be perfect for me to use by the pool while I am here and would be much more likely to get used in the future than a t-shirt. We were in luck and it was $5 cheaper than any t-shirt. Now we had something to sit on. So back up the steps we went.

While I was standing in line for the towel trying to assure Jack that the coconut-bra'd, grass-skirted drunk guy standing behind me was in fact NOT hitting on me, Mr. Buffett and the Coral Reefers took the stage.

We found a scrap of grass big enough for the two of us off to the side so we could make a quick escape if needed. And we settled in for a bit more of people watching with fun music. Especially since we couldn't see the stage or the huge HUGE screens because everyone was standing, dancing, smoking, drinking, and otherwise cavorting, and we were sitting and watching.

It didn't take too long to really start to focus on the marketing of this all. As we made our way through the parking lot, we passed at least two dozen stretch limos and more luxury SUVs and cars than I recall seeing at a BMW sale lot. Then as I sat looking at a mostly middle-aged, cigar-smoking crowd that probably work as lawyers and accountants in DC during the week, I though about how the simple idea of escaping the day-to-day duldrums was an insane money maker. This wasn't just a concert. It is a whole life style. But one that for the most of us, we can only fully experience when a concert is within reach, and be reminded of any time we turn on our iPod. This Jimmy Buffett, an average musical talent, is a marketing genius! (Now I just need to get me some of that marketing talent.)

After about an hour and a half of observing the marketing marvel, we decided to head out. (We did not know how long the concert was likely to go and definitely did not want to sit in the traffic of the lot for an hour getting out and then driving for 90 minutes.) As we walked down the steps and back toward the parking lot, I overheard a woman telling her date that the evening wasn't just about going to the concert; it was mostly about the tailgating. And that made incredible sense. I bet some of these people had been there all day long drinking and frolicking.

So that was my first Jimmy Buffett experience. And it was fun. But I imagine the real fun would be to come with some parrotheads and make it a day of laughing and pretending we lived in Margaritaville filled with coconut bras and grass skirts and little umbrellas in our drinks. And definitely without socks.

Labor Day Weekend in Margaritaville, maybe

Jack Bauer has a four-day weekend. And we have no solid plans. He has classmates that are traveling all over the country. Our biggest plan might be traveling to the local movie theater.

Two days ago, Jack came home at lunch and asked if we wanted to go to a Jimmy Buffett concert. My response was, "Yes" and "More information, please." Location: here in C-ville. When: unknown. Cost: free. Sure, I was a little surprised to hear that Jimmy Buffett was coming to this small town, but heck, free tickets are hard to pass up to a local event.

Yesterday evening, Jack picked up the tickets. Upon examining them, I was surprised that there was no location, no city name mentioned. Just the name of the venue. Hmmm. After a couple of google searches, I popped over to Margaritaville to see about tour dates. And what do you know, no C-ville for Mr. Buffett this weekend. He is about 80 miles away. At least it is just up the road here.

So I start looking for seating chart of this venue. And I notice the tickets are lawn seating. Am I really up for a nearly two-hour drive to sit on the grass for 90 minutes only to drive two hours back to the hotel? Sure, I like Jimmy Buffett as much as the next person, but do I like him this much?

Has anyone been to a Jimmy Buffett concert before? What are your recommendations?

The muddy slide

It has been raining here for the last two days straight. And the temps have been in the mid-60s. All this gray weather reminds me of the Pacific Northwest I left nine years ago. I've even had to pull out my sweaters and set aside my bathing suit and sandals.

But yesterday I did not let the rain stop me from walking the doggies. On our way back, I foolishly walked straight up the steep path that just the day before had been dirt. Yeah, you can see where this is going. I got up close to the top and the doggies stopped to sniff something, so I stopped. And then the ground rebelled and my feet started to slide back down the hill. I tried to quicken my pace, seeing that Bear's paw were slipping too, but to no avail. And as if it were a slow-motion reel, I let out a yelp as I went down on all fours and continued to slide down the muddy red clay path. After a few feet, I came to a stop. Not hurt physically, all I could do was laugh. A few failed attempts to right myself mid-path, I then crawled off to the little bit of grassiness under a pine tree before I was able to stand up and assess the mud damage.

New white and red Adidas running shoes? Covered deep into the laces.

Black yoga pants? Covered from the knees down.

Dog leash? Completely covered, but at least I never let go of my precious babies.

Hands? Mud piled on so thick you'd think I was about to give myself a mud bath.

Military.com fleece cover-up that kept me warm during the walk? Untouched.

Getting in touch with nature? Priceless.

Women's What Day???

For group PT this morning, Jack Bauer did a 5K run for what he told me was Women's Appreciation Day. He came back all hot and sweaty and told me to staying in bed, he part in appreciating me. He mentioned he got a water bottle that reads, "W.E.D. 2008" in bright red letters.

"I don't know what the 'E' is for," he said perplexed.

Still in bed an hour later, I mumble good-bye to Jack through sleeping lips. And there I remained for the next three hours, appreciating myself and getting some obviously needed rest. The doggies helped, too, with neither one wanting breakfast or to go out. Obviously, they were doing their part in appreciating me. (What wonderful doggies!)

About 45 minutes before Jack got back to the room for lunch, I wiggled my way out from between the still sleeping dogs and finally touched my feet to the floor. The dogs didn't move. (Are these the same dogs that used to make me get up at 7 AM on the weekends while Jack was deployed?) I enjoy the quiet time and appreciate that there is a day for appreciating me.

Jack opened the door and the dogs finally stirred. He gets them their kibble and I run out to get us lunch. While eating our tacos from Chipotle, Jack casually mentions that he is expecting an e-mail for Women's Equality Day. Well, that explains the "E."

"Equality Day?" I ask. "Wait, that means instead of me sleeping, I should have been out there running with you."

Then I looked it up. This is the day that commemorates the passage of the 19th Amendment, giving women the right to vote.

So while Jack is going to continue this as Women's Appreciation Day (he even did the lunch dishes), I am going to appreciate all those women who fought and suffered for us to have the right to vote in this upcoming presidential election.

Today's Adventures

First up. Brunch with the class leader and his wife. Should be more of a good time, assuming they have recovered from Friday night.

Then it is off to the nearby national park with the doggies. I don't think the doggies have been to a national park yet. I am sure they have been looking forward to pooping and peeing in one for ages.

So just an average weekend of getting dressed up on Sunday morning and then changing for an afternoon of playing in the dirt.

Reception AAR

Time for an after action review of yesterday's spouses luncheon and Blues Reception.

The luncheon is lovely. I meet some very nice ladies who came in for the yesterday's events. Food and conversation are good. One experienced wife suggests getting gel inserts for the dressy heels since we will be standing literally for hours.

The ladies in charge do an impromptu demonstration of the receiving line. The servicemember introduces himself and his wife to the adjutant, but does not shake his hand. The adjutant introduces the servicemember and wife to the general, who introduces his own wife. Now the demonstration had the general's wife introducing the servicemember and wife to the next party in the receiving line, and so on and so forth. No problem. They remind us that the receiving line is not the place for a lengthy conversation. I leave the luncheon confident I can handle the receiving line.

(On the way back to the hotel, I stop off at the grocery store for gel inserts. The store is incredibly busy for a Friday early afternoon. There is hardly any place to park, and the otherwise very nice C-ville drivers are now grouchy. The students are coming back fast and furious this weekend. School starts on Tuesday.)

Flash forward to the evening. After walking the doggies and hanging in the pool for an hour, I squeeze and jump and twist my way into my Spanx and reinjure my wrist hooking up the waistnipper. (Apparently, that dress-trying-on injury need more time to heal.) Hair coiffed, make-up set, I study my look in the full-length mirror. Something was missing so I grab some pearls, partially to cover the inadvertent necklace tanline that has been created over the last few weeks. Perfect. And we head out the door.

Then the fun begins. I sit down in the car and my breath catches. Ouch! The waistnipper starts digging into my fleshy ribs. As we make the short drive to the school, I grow increasingly concerned about us sitting through a long dinner. (Maybe a little pooch in the front of the dress would have gone completely unnoticed and I am wearing this crazy painful thing for nothing.) It seems we park as far away as possible from the door, so the gel cushions get an early test. And they completely fail. I grimace the whole way and wonder how I am going to stand for hours in these killer heels. Other thing I notice, the deep v-neck likes to become deeper and wider as I walk. I am not used to revealing this much cleavage. A tug on the left shoulder seems to help bring the material back together. A little. Oh boy, I should have put a safety pin in my clutch. This will make for an interesting evening if ol' lefty keeps trying to sneak out.

Luckily we are near the front of the line so I'm not in too much pain or too disrobed by the time I am shaking hands. I give a discreet, quick tug on the left shoulder of the dress before I turn to shake the general's hand. Of course, the receiving line doesn't actually happen the way the ladies lunching said it would. After the general's wife, I am on my own for introductions. Interesting though. The general is a talker and Jack Bauer gets held up in the line, but I just keep moving forward. It's not like I don't say anything other than "Hello, how do you do?" I just keep my chit-chat brief. Everyone is very gracious. At the very end of the line, there is a "girlfriend." I feel bad for her; no ring but still has to be in a receiving line, yikes.

All hands shook, I arrive at the end of the line and wait for Jack. Our photo is taken and then we are on to the rest of the reception up in the fifth floor hall, with each step becoming slower and more painful and me grumbling "I hate these shoes," all done with a smile, of course.

At the reception, some of the first people we chat with are Cool Wife and her husband. I have a small glass of punch in my left hand, which I am holding fairly close to my chest. Her husband points in that general direction and asks, "What's that?" I lean over to Cool Wife and ask if her husband is referring to my breasts or my drink.

I meet many of Jack's instructors, all seemingly very funny, or at least they think they are. For everyone being all dolled up, the evening is very relaxed. (Our law school had a big reception like this every year, and last night's event had the same feeling: a cool but dressy drinking-dining date.) We circulate about the room, enjoy hors d'oeuvres and drinks, stopping at the tall bar tables long enough for me to get a sufficient break to shift some weight off of my feet if only for a few seconds. How could I have ever liked these shoes?

After the sun sets, we walk out on to the the balcony and enjoy the evening view and decidedly pleasant air and, ahhh, chairs. I give my feet a break but the waistnipper pokes back into my ribs. (I am really going to have to do something about this. The next fancy dress needs to be worn sans nipper.) Sitting down, the dress definitely wants to open wide in the front. I keep fidgeting with the left shoulder trying to discreetly wrangle ol' lefty back into a slightly more acceptable state of coverage. It is a losing battle.

With dinner reservations at 9 PM, we gather up the posse and turn to walk out when the general stops with one of our members, the class leader. First of all, what is the general still doing there? Second, why is he such a Chatty Cathy? And third, what's with the perfect timing of grabbing the class leader as we are heading out to our fancy dinner?

Dinner is at a local steakhouse with the class leader, his wife who flew in for the weekend, and Jack's platoon sergeant. Mrs. Class Leader is a riotous blend of southern graciousness, conservative politics, and beer. She and I hit it off perfectly. She even loves may snorty laugh. We talk so much over dinner, I can't even remember if the steak is good. Now the mashed potatoes are divine as is the creme brulee.

Dinner over, we get outside, and I can't stand it any longer: the shoes come off. By this time, the nipper, having been adjusted several times in the ladies' room, has folded itself over and is creating an unsightly pooch (hmmm, wasn't that the EXACT thing I was trying to hide with this hideous thing?)

Anyway, we get back to the hotel, change clothes, and meet up in the lobby for more gabbing. Mrs. Class Leader brings down some beers in her D&B tote. The news is on, covering the democratic VP pick. We talk and laugh (and I snort) until 1:30 AM. Neither Jack nor I can remember the last time we stayed up that late.

The night over, it was a successful evening. Especially since my left nipple never made an appearance.

Coffe, Lunch, Reception

In less than 24 hours, I will have coffeed, lunched, and been received.

It all began last night with the local spouse club's big welcome coffee. (Last month's coffee was a welcome for the spouses accompanying the OBC soldiers ; it was a small affair.) It may have been labeled as a coffee but it was just more like a buffet dinner. Good thing we were told that there was going to be a ton of food and dinner beforehand was probably unnecessary. The group is all about fun and they have probably 15 different groups to have fun with: beading, scrapbooking, sewing, book club (we were expressly told that you do NOT have to read the book! How sweet is that?), hiking, dining, lunching, hospitality, and on and on. So when we come back here there will definitely be stuff to do. It is a small military community and these women are making the most of it. I wonder if other posts are this?

Today, we have a luncheon for the OBC spouses. Really not sure what to expect, except for food. (These ladies talked a lot about eating last night. They say when you come for the grad course, it is like the freshman 15. Good thing Gold's Gym is free. I need to get back there. And I definitely need to get back to Weight Watchers. My pants aren't fitting so well. Uggg! I guess this means I can't eat those super yummy cream cheese mini-muffins or chocolate covered donuts for breakfast anymore. Or I could workout for four hours a day. But I'm not in shape to do that. So I have to give up the donuts. Damn.)

And then tonight it is a Blues Reception, receiving line and all. According to Today's Military Wife, the spouses in the Army, Navy, and Marine Corps go before the servicemember; in the Air Force, the servicemember goes first. (What's up with that, AFW???) Luckily, we are in the Army, so when it is my turn, I am to "smile, extend [my] hand, greet the first person by name, introduce [myself], and say 'How do you do?' Then move on to the next person." And as I read on ... Shoot! No cigarettes or drinks in the receiving line! How uncivilized! (please take note of sarcasm) I suppose these things need to be stated. Not everyone had National Charity League as a teenager. But at least I get to wear my fancy dress and then bitch (only to my husband, of course) about how my once incredibly comfortable shoes that I loved wearing to court are now killing my feet and how could I have ever thought they were even the slightly bit comfortable, I will never know.

Maybe we'll head out afterwards in our finest and have a fashionably late dinner with some of our new friends.

But for now I need to get ready for lunch and find some pants that fit. Wish me luck!

The Dress

This Friday we are attending a Blues Reception, which is apparently a cocktail hour type thing. According to Today's Military Wife -- my guide to all things a military wife needs to know -- receptions that "start after 6 PM are always formal." And by "formal," the author means that "long gown or tea-length dress, super-dressy cocktail suit, a luxury coat" should be worn. I did not bring anything even vaguely resembling that description with me, um, not that I actually own anything like and just happened to leave it back in Middleville. So that means shopping.

But of course, I dread shopping for special occasion outfits. First of all, the sizes are usually all messed up. Two dresses of similar design but separated by more than one size can both fit me. Then there is the cut. I need a dress that covers my knees completely. Shorter lengths just make me look shorter and fatter, which is obviously unacceptable. The neckline must be low so I can best asset: My knockers. Obscenely low or too revealing is also unacceptable. I can't show up to a military event worrying about whether my left nipple is going to slip out.

A few days ago, I was in the social room -- AKA the laundry room -- chatting up with some of the wives. We are discussing the upcoming reception and what we are wearing. Having nothing dressier than khakis, I ask about where people are shopping. One newbie's wife mentions that JC Penney is having a sale. I silently groan. JC Penney? When was the last time I stepped foot in a Penney's and actually bought something? Before I met Jack a dozen years ago, perhaps? Then I start thinking, am I really that much of a snob? And as a newly unemployed person, can I afford to have such an attitude? I don't think so.

Sunday night, I got online to see what Penney's had for little black dresses. Not bad. Looks like they have a wide range of styles that will fit my needs, including a variety of sizes. But I am nervous about ordering something online when I can't tell what the material is like, what the fit will be, and how it will look on me. And I can't afford to buy several dresses then return all but one. There is a Penney's here in C-ville at the small mall. I guess I could go a try on dresses.

Which brings me to yesterday. I rush to get laundry done in the morning so I have plenty of time to devote to the dress hunt. As soon as Jack leaves after lunch, I finish folding the laundry -- yeah, I folded AND put it away, amazing, I know -- and I grab my Spanx and head out the door to brave of the the back to school crows at the mall. Just better to get it over with.

Once at Penney's I spot three or so racks with nothing but little black dresses hanging on them. Perfect. Now what are the sizes they go up to? Hmmm. Looks like about one to two sizes smaller than I think will fit. But I grab all the v-neck dresses in the largest sizes they have -- eight of them -- and prepare myself that they will all be too small. After squeezing and jumping and twisting my way into my Spanx -- I think I hurt my back -- I wiggle my way into the dresses, which then get sorted into the definitely maybe and the definitely no. So far they all fit but the dresses have revealed a tummy situation. Hmmm. Maybe it was all those nights of eating Qdoba Chips and Queso for dinner right before Jack got home from Iraq. We'll need to do something about that.

The fitting rooms are just outside the lingerie department. Surely they have some sort of medieval torture device that will make my tummy smaller. I grab a device cleverly called a "waistnipper" and sprain my hand trying to get the 14 eyes hooked. Then wiggle back into the dress in the number one spot. This dress, unlike the others, is a little fancier than a typical little black dress. This one has a taffeta skirt with an underlayer of tulle, making a little puffy and a great eye diversion from the tummy situation. With the waistnipper and the Spanx and the puffy skirt, I think it will work.

I resolve the lack of appropriate bra with a quick trip to Lane Bryant. And I don't have to worry about jewelry. I brought my entire old-fashioned-sewing-box-turned-jewelry box with me. I'll find something.

So in less than two hours, I found a perfect dress. I can't wait for Friday. Now I just need to work on my tan.

Running

After dealing with elk snot and the threat of camel and llama spitting, I am in desperate need of cleaning the car and my clothes.

Gotta do some laundry this AM. Please let the laundry room be empty. I don't have time for it to be crowded.

This afternoon I have to go shopping for a cocktail dress for a Blues Reception this Friday. I found a cute dress online at JC Penney. Hopefully they have it at the store and in my size.

Gotta run, folks!