The Taylors in Europe

I thought that we would have an answer about Fred's conference by today. Of course, I also thought he would have one waiting when he got to work on Saturday. Oh, yes, and Friday--he thought he'd know something then for sure. Oh, ha ha, yes, also Monday the 20th, which was the last day for RSVPs and therefore the day that they should know how many waitlisted people they would be taking. And let's not forget Monday the 13th, which should have been the day before I left for the States and therefore my last possible opportunity to pack for him and bring his stuff with me. We've been on this rollercoaster since shortly after we returned from Russia.

I sit here crying and I think that I really couldn't be more upset if they came back with a negative answer than I am with their persistent unwillingness to be bothered to give an answer. But I know that that's bullshit and that as upset as I am right now, it's just a fraction of how awful I'll feel if and when that last shred of hope is yanked away.

I hope TJAG (THE Judge Advocate General, for those not up on their military alphabet soup) is a closet reader of my blog. I want somebody to know even if they don't care what their indecisive pussyfooting means for our family. I'm not saying invite the man where no invitation would otherwise be forthcoming. Just give him a friggin' ANSWER!

All I know right now is that we get off a plane at BWI at 3 p.m. on Saturday, October 2. Beyond that, I know nothing. I have friends I want to see, but I can't make plans. Everything is on hold, and I can't believe that telling Fred one way or the other what's going on could really be that hard.