Cover to Cover Must Read

I don’t read much. I used to. I used to devour books like a starving woman devours cupcakes. Mmm cupcakes.  I buy books, I own books, but somehow never get around to reading them.  But Every time I walk into the PX I keep seeing this book. And every time I see it I think “I’ll grab that on my way out” and kept forgetting it. I clearly suck as an impulse shopper.  This kept happening until this Friday.

The Hunny and I ran to the PX to grab a few last minute items for the battalion ball the next day. You know, razor blades, a white shirt and bow tie for him, windex for his shiney black shoes, and pantyhose.  From here on those pantyhose will be foerver known as the pantyhose of doom. You see I worked retail for quite a few years before he enlisted in the Army in 2001. I knew that going to the ball, would be much like a day on the sales floor at The Bon Ton was in those days. Much standing around before the dinner, because you do not enter the dining area until AFTER the receiving line. Oh yeah, did I mention that in seven years of this life, I’ve never done a receiving line?? EVER?? We were in Ft Wainwright, Alaska for the last 2 balls we attended, and with “Fairbanks Formal*” it was pretty much not a receiving line. It was more a social hanging out around the lounge. And I knew everyone, because I was involved with the FRG, and even helped plan the last one. Where was I?

Oh the pantyhose of doom. Right. So, knowing I’d be on my feet for prolonged periods, I got the ones I’d always worn at work. “Smooth Illusion”.  Mind you, these are great hose. They’re made to avoid runs, because the bands run horizontally rather than vertically. You can snag them, even put holes in them, but runs?  fugettaboutit.  They are also very, very, tight. This is to support your muscles and prevent fatigue., energizing even. What they don’t tell you, is you practically need a crowbar to get them on! I didn’t have a crowbar.  Right leg went ok, but left one, not so much. I somehow managed to pull every muscle in my left foot, by putting on my pantyhose.  What’s this got to do with a book??

Well, that book I picked up on Friday, and started reading Sunday, was being signed by it’s Author on Monday. Today. Hubby had already told me there was no way he’d be home by 4:30, and we live within walking distance of the PX.  I figured I’d just hike my happy ass over there. I was halfway through the book, and loving it.  What book?

That book. I finished it tonight. It was an amazing read. I related so easily to finding ones self suddenly immersed in Army Life, wondering (and God knows I STILL wonder) how to fit in among other wives, dealing with deployments, gossip, snarking, backstabbing, and dear GOD that dreaded “Suck it up and drive on!” phrase that gets thrown in your face mostly when you don’t need to hear it! I especially related to wanting to ask Donald Rumsfeld a few point blank questions of the “WTF were you thinking” variety but restrained myself. Though in my defense he did volunteer to take those questions when he visited Alaska right after that surprise 4 month extension to our brigade’s deployment in 05.

It’s been a really long time since I read a book from cover to cover in a 24 hour period. But I seriously could not put it down.  I burst out laughing so often, especially when the topic of “Stepford Wives” came up…after my own experience with the title, and my never published retaliatory letter to the editor. I teared up when the writing turned to struggles with his PTSD (something hubby has been blessed thus far in not having) and hers, and cried tears of joy when they got through what had to be the hardest things as a couple to deal with.  And I swear I had tears of joy when I read the words “Post Traumatic Spouse Disorder” because it so clearly defined everything I’ve felt since that first deployment (I believe the official term is secondary trauma, but I like that one better). There’s just not enough I can say, you have to read it. It should be right up there with the Army Wife Handbook!

What’s this got to do with my pantyhose you ask? Well my damned foot was still sore today, too sore to walk to the PX, and oh my god the cramping! So my youngest daughter hopped on her…wait, my bike, and got it signed for me. And apparently shared why…lol there was a little “Ps: feel better:)”  with the autograph. So thank you to my darling daughter, who has now redeemed herself, and thanks To Lily Burana, for the note, and for writing such a great book.

I’ve been left inspired. Determined to find my  “hooah” (It’s probably buried under all his camo), get myself back involved with things like I was in Alaska. I’ve already looked back into being an AFES caseworker with the Red Cross here. I intend to get back involved with the FRG, or at least try.  I even made the bold step, to not hide the tattoo I’ve been so very proud of, because it might look strange with a formal dress, in fact, I let it hang out at the ball! Hey hey, minds out of the gutter it’s on my ARM. I might even get another droplet added for this deployment!  If I find friends here, it will be because of who I am, not who they think I am, or who I think I need to be.  I have a place here. Somewhere. I just have to find it.

*Fairbanks formal was a dress code all in it’s own. Anything formal would usually include people in everything from Mini skirts to Frilly gowns. Things were a bit more relaxed up there. Heck one guy even brought two paid escorts to a ball!