I didn't think I could do it either

I untangled that awful mess. Sweet victory is mine. I used thrifted tapestry wool in little skeins for the warp. The resulting fabric was crooked, wonky, and hella scratchy. I threw it in the washer to felt and I started sewing a bag. I'll take pictures after I get the lining sewn.

Isabel has fallen in love with cooking and baking. I got her an Easy Bake Oven for Christmas and she's now my little kitchen buddy.

I'm saving these pictures to show to her prom date.

I've been struggling with the whole military wife thing lately. When I was younger, I thought of military wives as old-fashioned, unliberated, Tammy Wynette wannabe, long-suffering doormats. Their only job was to stand by their man and have no thoughts, dreams, or opinions of their own.

Then I met David and fell in love. Eating my words wasn't tasty.

I still have big problems with some of the other wives. I HATE how any time they don't like something I say or do, they imply that I'm not patriotic enough and I don't love my husband enough. (You're right, ladies. I just plain hate freedom. I kick old veterans in the shins and heat my home with flag burning. Whatever.)

Fuck that.

I love my husband and I love my country. I love them both enough to open my mouth and say something when one of them is acting like an asshole. Just because I have opinions that weren't fed to my by my husband or the armed forces, doesn't mean that I'm a traitor to either of them. I am a woman who put my own plans and dreams on hold, but I didn't throw them away. I am a person with a mind of her own. I am an excellent, loving wife. I am a great American.

Anyway, I left every online group associated with military spouses. I'm over it. I'm done.

Suffering because of who you love isn't easy. I think that's why I love my gay brothers and lesbian sisters so much. (I'm a Christian, you are all brothers and sisters to me.) Sometimes the price you pay to love another person is high, but you still pay it gladly.

Because I opened my big mouth...

...I found my breaking point.

We were supposed to go to England, but we can't because my stepkids need special education. Base preference was my reward for serving my country and husband by raising my kids alone, sleeping alone, living alone. Now we're stuck with Oklahoma. We didn't even get a preference in the US. (We begged to go to either coast.) I don't want to go to Oklahoma. I cried for 10 hours today. I can't tell you how much I don't want to go. I thought I could endure anything because I love David. That was before I realized "anything" can include Oklahoma.

I need to stop writing about it or I'm going to start sobbing again. I spent the day contemplating divorce with the phone in my lap and a pile of tissues around me.

I have been working on Isabel's present. I'm about 90% done. She needs a more expressive face. David suggested that I knit a Liger (pretty much his favorite animal) as a ballet classmate for it. I used bamboo fiber fill because I hate polyfil. (Why give stuffed animals cellulite-like lumps on their bums?)

I'll knit the Liger, 2 tutus, 2 leotards, and one more dress. Then I'm done with Christmas knitting. I'm shopping online. I'd rather get a pap smear that deal with the holidays this year. Ugh.

For my husband...

did another badge. I won't explain it other than to say that my husband and I often miss each other in different ways. There is a good reason for so many hookers in Korea.

I miss my husband to the point that I can't even cry. I have to cheer up and distract myself with knitting or sewing to have the energy to shed tears. I miss him all day long, then I miss him painfully all night.

There are times when I'll be doing something routine, not thinking of much, and the thought of not being with David will kick me in the guts. It's like when I remember my neice, who died at 10 months old. The grief knocks the wind out of me.

Antidepressants can't touch this pain. I go to the gym every day and exhaust myself to escape. (I am a fat girl, the gym is the last place I thought I'd go to grieve.)

Sorry to be Debbie Downer, but I'm tired of pretending everything is great. I believe military spouses should be free to voice these feelings. I am a patriot. I love my country. I am serving my country with the burden of this grief. These are my battle wounds.

Frustration

Sometimes I hate the military.

I went to get my medicine this morning and the clinic was on lock down for an exercise. There are helicopters and machine guns everywhere. I can't have my medicine.

I can't go to the gym to work out my frustration.

I can't buy groceries like I need to.

This base is playing war. Now I get to play lonely wife.

I can't dispute my stepdaughter's medical bills because only a natural parent can talk to Tricare about claims. I am, however, responsible to pay that bill. I just can't see it. My husband needs to give me written permission to see the bill that I am required to pay--written permission from Korea.

I can't see my husband. I can't call him. I have nobody to lean on.

I sit and cry and listen to the helicopters.

And wait.

And wait.

I'm still here

I had a fantastic birthday. I went to my grandparents' house and enjoyed spending time with them. I was spoiled with tons of golf equipment and knitting gifts.



My stepmother has been telling everyone in the family that I'm mad at her because I'm jealous of the new baby. She even invented a so-called confrontation where I yelled at her for not spending enough time with Isabel. Jeez, that woman thinks the absolute worst of me any chance she gets. It used to break my heart, but I just don't give a flying fuck anymore. She doesn't think I'm human enough to have feelings about the deaths this family has suffered or my daily struggles raising a family of my own. Any time I'm pissed off or depressed, it's all about me being a petty jerk. Never-fucking-mind what I'm going through. All my life's problems are cause by my obvious grade school level emotional intelligence.

Anyway...
Lately I've discovered that smacking practice golf balls in the back yard is 1000% more fun than blogging. Especially since I don't seem to have anything nice to say.


My husband is quite a looker, no?

I restarted David's blanket. I've adapted my new "lazy lace" attitude to his blanket and I've already gotten farther than I had before. I'll have updated pictures soon. I've been wasting a lot of time by casting on many new projects with my new yarn gifts.