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I grew up a Navy Brat and was warned by my mother, “whatever you do, don’t marry a Navy Pilot.” So, that’s precisely what I did.

Navy life was always a great life for me. I never really knew anything else. Husband eventually left active duty and we settled in nicely in the Pacific Northwest. I became a lawyer, and we decided to raise a family. But, after twelve years in the Reserves, Husband’s ticket was up. That’s when this diary of sorts was born. He arrived home safely 15 months later, and we are now in the midst of that lovely process known as reintegration.

If you’re coming to my blog for the first time and don’t understand why I hate guinea pigs, why I never learned to do laundry, or how I know what poo tastes like, you can start from this first post, and keep hitting “next.” Most posts build on the previous, so starting at the beginning is a great way to move through some of the stories.

Disclaimers:

(1) I’m not that funny or dramatic in real life. I’m pretty normal. I really do cry thinking about Husband while he’s away, but usually not in public, and I’m not (normally) prone to fits of violence or borderline schizophrenia. This is my therapy, so writing about it makes it all a little more tolerable. By the time you read my posts, I’ve moved on. All sarcasm aside, I really am thankful for my life, my freedom, my health, my friends, my country, and my family. And I’m glad to have my husband home.

(2) All the events described herein are 100% true, and resemblence of characters to actual people is completely intentional. Trying to hide the identity of those who enter a life and contribute to a story is for wussies.

Thanks for reading.