Friday, January 21, 2005

Information underload 

Before we left Germany for Florida last November, I told anybody who would listen that I wasn't going to make plans for our return trip until I had some information. First, I wanted to know where we would be moving to next summer; second, I wanted to know when Fred would be taking his 2-weeks R&R so that if I needed to, I could simply hang out here in Florida through my birthday on February 3. (I don't know why my birthday is such a big deal to me this year--it's only my twenty-eighteenth, so it's not like it's a major one--but for whatever reason, it is a huge deal to me that I not leave here to celebrate it in Germany without Fred.) Well, ha-freakin'-ha on me. We're getting on a plane tomorrow, and I know NOTHING about either of these topics.

Fred has requested to take R&R during the first half of February. I wanted to give us some time to kick the jet lag before he comes home, so January 22 seemed like a good time to go. I never dreamed that we would get to this point and still not know if it's a go or not.

Speaking of not knowing beans about something, can we talk assignments for a minute? I haven't said anything about it here on the blog, but it has consumed my every waking moment for the past 2 months.

I came here expecting that we would know our next assignment by Thanksgiving, and I promise you that I was the picture of patience until that point. And then the hope became that we would know by Christmas. It just keeps getting pushed back further and further, and it's making me nuts. Meanwhile, every few days somebody in DC sends out what they call the "guess list"--basically it's just a big spreadsheet of all the jobs, who's got 'em now, and who's likely to get 'em next summer--and Fred has yet to appear on one. Week after week, we sit helpless and watch the jobs that we want fill up with other people's names.

I feel like there is an undercurrent of pressure that I should be happy with any job that takes Fred out of the line of fire. Perhaps I'm risking running afoul of some cosmic force with my greediness, but here's what I want: I want my husband back from Iraq alive. I want him back in pretty much the same shape he left in--mentally stable and with all limbs intact. And I want him to get a job that we WANT. He deserves it. We deserve it.

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