We now return to our regularly scheduled madness...

In true poltergeist or bad penny fashion, I'm back! A break seems to have been the right remedy because I feel refreshed and energized and ready to tackle the year like the Army Wife version of David Harris (LB for the NY Jets who leads the NFL in tackles and yes, I totally had to google that info).

I have spent my time taking stock of how I really want to spend my time and what subjects I really want to talk about, as well as modifying my volunteer commitments to suit my time, temperament and skills. Turning this into a once-a-week picture blog is, right now, the most visible result of that decision-making process. Of course, I reserve the right to post more often if inspiration strikes, but it's a more efficient use of my style to do something really meaningful once a week rather than something obligatory every day.

I have been on-again, off-again about whether or not to drop the FRG co-leadership position which has been challenging in some not-great ways, but after talking it out with the other person, I think we've reached a compromise that will allow me to contribute in the ways I'm good at, while sparing me the headaches that come from proverbially bashing my head against the brick wall aspects.

Part of the FRG decision had to do with another volunteer commitment that I've assigned myself and which I'm a little hesitant to reveal yet because I haven't officially started. I will say that it's an incredible personal opportunity to polish some of my skills that may (just may, mind you) lead to professional opportunities later. I am really excited and can't wait until I'm able to share more!

There have been personal development classes, interesting reading, meandering dog walks through frozen fields, a kid who made first runner up in her school spelling bee, internet problems, noisy basement construction, trip planning, photo taking, soldier supporting, dog hair vacuuming, dish washing, laundry sorting kinds of activities that seem to advance on me like a stampeding herd of water buffalo, then trickle away once completed in a careless sort of distraction - completely uninterested in me after I've tied myself into knots to accommodate them!

I may be assigning a bit more enmity (not to mention intelligence) to a pile of dirty clothes than it strictly deserves, but I swear the dishes are conspiring against me to multiply in the night.

Not to bore you with talk of the weather, but the self-restraint Mother Nature has shown in NOT snowing or raining on us in several days (even going so far as to allow a blazing winter sun to shine through - twice) has contributed immensely to my good mood. In further proof that I am incurring a huge karmic debt by revelling in my good fortune, I give you this week's picture, for which Heidi actually sat still and posed, turning her head to look at the camera instead of rushing over to knock me off my squat and licking me to death.

Gift from a wise man.

Weeks ago, a box came from down range with myriad little funny-pages wrapped gifts for Ro and me. I couldn't even imagine what they'd be, so I didn't try. Thus, I was surprised and elated to find this had my name on it!

I won't lie, yesterday was rough. It's not the first Christmas I've solo'd as a parent, but certainly the first where there felt like something was missing. It wasn't devastating, tho, and Ro kept the holiday cheer going with a sunny disposition, even tho the weather was dreary in the extreme. Skype helped us out a bit, too, allowing a brief video call that morning where we opened gifts as a family (how COOL is the 21st century, right?!) and another convo later in the evening with a better connection.

I found some liquid cheer about 10 ounces into a wine bottle, which was helpful not only in the evening, but later that night as I fell asleep with a smile on my face. Everything looks a little brighter this morning. Of course, that's probably the light reflecting off of the 6 inches of snow dumped on us yesterday, but whatever - I'll take it!

People fatigue.

You know what kind of weather I hate? Flurries. What the hell is the point of flurries, Mother Nature?? Big, fluffy, dry snowflakes are pretty. Tiny, nearly-invisible ice-daggers that kamikaze past your eyelashes into your eyeballs are NOT SO MUCH.

It was so cold this morning when I took the dog out that my jeans started to hurt on my legs. 17 degrees is not for wimps, and I, apparently, am a HUGE WIMP. But Heidi had already been cooped up two days without relief on account of the weather and she was about to dig a tunnel under the door in desperation. The cold doesn't seem to bother her. I think the fires of her crazy keep her warm.

I really would have liked for R to be home today. First, I would have looked forward to him trying to talk me out of going outside at all. Then I would have resented the fact that he didn't offer to take the dog out for me. The resentment would thaw, however, with the cup of hot coffee and warm body he offered me upon my return. Then Heidi would try to crawl in our laps and she'd be so adorable with the puppy eyes and he with the ear-fondling and doggie-speak and I'd forget that there was such a thing as "cold."

It seems like the busier my schedule gets - the more interaction with the Army community at large required of me - the lonelier I get. Or, if not lonelier, more sensitive. It's like every conversation I have, every phone call I have to make, every person I smile at in passing becomes this little tear in my psyche, all adding up to a gaping wound until I just want to hide under the covers for a week to heal. Not exactly the kind of upbeat, positive attitude I'm supposed to be exhibiting as (jazz hands:) FRG co-leader!

One of the ways I miss R the most is for his ability to appreciate my susceptibility to social fatigue. Which is truly one of the greatest things about him, because he doesn't suffer the same. Oh sure, he gets tired of people, needs a little bit of solitude to regroup, but by and large he's a social creature. The act of interacting with people past his limits doesn't hurt him like it does me. And yet, he's perfected the art of being still - emotionally, physically and intellectually - around me when I need it, but still being there.

That skill of his is what allows my optimism to shine through. Without it, I just feel bombarded until I hate the idea of people, let alone having to interact with them. It doesn't help that the intense cold and upcoming holidays put me in hibernation mode.

54 out of 365. It's too soon for me to be feeling this way.

Spilling my guts.

I'm really kind of disappointed in myself for not following through on this project with better consistency. I thought that this photo-a-day goal would help me avoid those days when I just want to flip the whole world the bird and hole up in my cave like a modern day Grinch.

Not so, evidently.

I'm a thinker. I get lost in my own head sometimes and it can be really difficult to reorient on outward goals when I'm caught up in thoughts that rattle me. Last week, the gals over at Left Face pointed me in the direction of this post, written by a former marine speaking about the state of today's military and how it relates, in his opinion, to an argument for the return of the draft.

It wasn't his advocation of a draft that took me aback, however, but his observations about the social elitism for members of the military encouraged by Americans in general. One of the points that the author of the article tried to make was that members of the military should be considered no different from any other civil servant.

My problem with that is there is a risk level associated with military service that is missing from many other types of government jobs. I do believe that all types of civil service should be honored, and I do think there is an imbalance with regard to the honor military service receives as compared to, say, a postal carrier, but I think that imbalance comes from lazy citizenry - not a lack of worthiness. "Support Our Troops" has become this catch-all, subjective sound bite that really stands for, "Give them whatever they want as long as we don't have to think about it, pay for it, or put our butts on the line for it."

Although the article never really gets into the damage this mentality does when it rubs off on the military community, I see it as an insidious helplessness that infects soldiers and families. It's as though the lip service paid to adoration and hero-worship is supposed to sustain us through the very real difficulties of living with the effects of a military at war. The "I-am-Special" attitude that the author attributes to the military mentality is a superficial symptom of the diseased infrastructure and bumbling leadership we are forced to deal with.

Are there individuals who try to take advantage of this social pedestal? Of course there are - in every walk of life, every job, every social strata. But it is also true that military service requires a different level of adjustment - up to and including sacrifice - that should be supported by a different level of resource management. When that management fails to meet the basic needs of soldiers and their families, how else should we speak up for ourselves other than to say, "Hey! Remember us? We perform a specialized service and we need specialized support!" And when we are consistently put off or ignored altogether, the "I-am-Special" mentality becomes the hollow, desperate chant of people who are essentially forbidden to help themselves.

Would a draft help all this? I don't think so. I don't think picking men at random and plunking them into one of four variations of camouflage uniforms would seriously change the attitudes of the public and the policy makers toward military service members at large.

That being said, I do think that mandatory public service for each and every citizen - male and female, in every conceivable aspect of civil service - would go a very long way toward balancing the disparity between what Americans say they support and what they do support.

Happy

Dropped the ball again, didn't I? This every day stuff is WAY harder than I thought it was going to be!

Had an eventful weekend; got everybody together to make banners to send to the guys down range for Thanksgiving. Had a really great turnout throughout the battalion and we're sending some very colorful and creative messages down there!

From a photography standpoint, major fail on my part. Didn't take my big flash and tried to do without one at all, but there was just too much movement and too little light. Also, should have taken the kit lens, which is considerably wider angle than my Tamron zoom and even if the Tamron does stop down to f/2.8, the larger aperture was no match for the poor light in the room. Should have gone with the image stabilizer lens! Lesson learned: don't try to be all artsy-fartsy when large groups of small children in dark rooms are involved!

Veteran's Day

I don't have any sort of meaningful insight about Veteran's Day.

I can't; my husband is deployed.

My job is to keep myself at an even emotional keel so that I can function alone twice as well as I do when he's home. In addition to that, other people are depending on me to set an example of "dealing with it" and not least among those people is my thirteen year old daughter.

I can't shout at media outlets that insist on focusing on fallen veterans that a dead soldier is dead every day of the year, not just Veteran's Day.

I can't scream at well meaning acquaintances that I don't need the pity that always saturates their "Thank you for your husband's service," as though my only choice is to endure it.

I can't give the military and government a giant middle finger for cutting support funding for family programs at the same time they get on TV and profess to be "so proud and grateful" for what we do.

I can't watch tribute programs or documentaries that talk about soldiers who come home in pieces - both physical and psychological - because letting myself dwell on those horrors means spending the next 11 months in constant terror.

Look, I'm not against Veteran's Day. I think it's an important national and cultural ceremonial marker. Necessary, even, for those who don't live close to the military. But it's not my holiday. It's not a freaking holiday. It's my life, my reality, my day-to-day existence. I won't wave my flag harder or sing louder or do anything else just because it makes the rest of the nation feel better.

I can't; my husband is deployed.

Maybe someday after his retirement I'll pin a little flag to my lapel and be glad for the extra day off from work. But for now I'll just do what I've been doing - functioning twice as well alone as when he's home, avoiding the news, struggling to live the Serenity Prayer - living through a war.

Before

This is what my marriage feels like in the days leading up to a deployment.