An ode to the new fiscal year

Okay, I'm not actually sure about the poetic conventions of an ode, so I'm just going to write.

I LOVE THE NEW FISCAL YEAR.

New budget. New money. Vendors (book vendors, mostly) wining and dining me, trying to get their hands on some of that glorious new-fiscal-year largesse. Librarians don't get wined and dined much. We mostly get free pens. Sometimes a note pad. OH! And free stickers (sometimes scratch-and-sniffs!) when you order a certain amount of stuff from Upstart. But the new fiscal year brings the vultures (I mean, book vendors) running.

And it is GLORIOUS.

I mean, a couple of free lunches is not really that big of a deal. I used to work for a huge district, where we regularly got comped for meals, etc. But its been awhile. Also, when vendors pay for lunch, I don't have to worry about turning in receipts. So yeah.

Most importantly, though, vendors bring me books. So what happens when a vendor visits, other than the fact that they take me to lunch? Well, they usually bring PILES AND PILES (literally) of books. I spend all morning (sometimes all day) going through their books, picking the ones I like. I give them back to the vendor in yes and no piles. And then, magically, a week later, I receive boxes of books. And C comes to me and says "Nomad! You have books! Piles of them!" And I am happy.

Also, the vendors who don't come in person will just SEND you the books. You sort through them, and then ship back what you don't want, which is actually a lot of fun.

Let's be honest here. I like shopping. My favorite thing to shop for? Books!

My job, for the past week or so? Nothing but book shopping, baby. Yet another reason I love being a librarian.

Banned Books Week

Intellectual freedom is important. Information should flow freely. Censorship is always lurking around the corner (and no, I'm not being sarcastic).

Now that I've discharged my duties as a card carrying member of the American Library Association, a funny story about banned books week.

Every library I have EVER worked at has done the same display for Banned Books Week: A bunch of books on the ALA's most challenged list surrounded by crime scene tape. It's a pretty cool looking display, if a tad overdone.

So I dutifully gathered up a bunch of books to put on the display this week, only to be told by one of my coworkers (the aforementioned C) that we don't like to draw attention to Banned Books Week at my current library.

Apparently, the last time they did a display of frequently challenged books, they had patrons lodge challenges against half of the books in the display by the end of the week. I sort of didn't believe him, but hey, it saved me looking for crime scene tape- I just put out some "Read Banned Books" bookmarks and called it a day.

One final story...two kids were discussing the bookmarks today:

Kid 1: You can BAN BOOKS??

Kid 2: Sweet. We should ban *insert name of frequently maligned classic work here*, and just watch the movie instead.

Kid 1: Totally! That is such a great idea!

I didn't have the heart to tell them that the movie is nowhere near as good as the book. :-D

Pilot Training, Part IV

Drinking.

The number one thing I wish I'd had a heads up on ahead of time.

The college I attended for my undergrad was fraternity/sorority free, but there was still PLENTY of booze. Trust me. My friends and I drank. A lot. I'd seen keg stands, power hours and just about every other bit of asinine drinking tomfoolery standard to the American college experience.

Then I went out, got a job (I did grad school while working, the beauty of mostly online classes!) and found out that, as I'd often suspected, people in the real world didn't start off the evening by doing shots. Since I had never been a huge fan of the binge drinking I'd encountered in college, it was easy to adjust my expectations to a glass of wine with dinner and cocktails on Friday nights.

Einstein was not a drinker. While he would occasionally drink a beer or have a rum and coke with something, he found my fondness for vodka tonics strange to say the least. (Although my love of peppermint schnapps was easier to understand, apparently!) So when we married, I assumed my life would continue on much as it had in my new grown-up world, with the occasional glass of wine, and a bottle of rum lasting months while gathering dust in my cupboard.

And then we arrived at pilot training.

I will spare you the urban legends about various forms of liquor, bar rules and other idiocy I've encountered. Suffice it to say, I have now attended "mandatory fun" parties where people did shots until everyone was absolutely falling down drunk. No event is complete- or even started- without liquor. And I don't just mean a bbq with some cold brewskies. I mean out and out, frat boy, "Animal House" style, shots until you puke drinking.

**Quick note: I have NEVER seen anyone FORCED to drink. I know a lot of people who are non-drinkers are often worried that they will be forced to drink. On the contrary, the people I know who do not drink (mostly for religious reasons) are never given guff about not drinking. They are often in the unenviable position of being sober around a bunch of drunk people, but that's another story...

So yeah. I was surprised, to say the least. I wish I had known ahead of time, not so much because I am anti-drinking, but because it is so central to the culture. It was a huge shock the first time I walked into an Assignment Night and saw the hordes of drunks in flight suits. Also, I should have included WAY more money in our budget for liquor, especially since there are a number of flights in the syllabus where it is customary to buy your Instructor Pilot a bottle of their favorite liquor.

Oooh, and there is definitely a wife=DD frame of mind. I cannot tell you the number of Fridays I have driven back on base with a car full of drunk LTs. The gate guards are usually hugely sympathetic when I fork over a handful of LT ID's with my dependent one. I even get the occasional "good luck Ma'am" when they are being especially rowdy. And Einstein's class is considered to be tame and practically anti-partying, compared to the norm!

But yeah. I now negotiate nights off of DDing, because hey, I'm planning (at some point) to give up drinking entirely for pregnancy and breastfeeding, so I figure I deserve a few nights off of DD duty now!

Statistics

Most good libraries keep statistics. We have counters at the door to count the number of people in and out. We count the number of books checked out. And, in every library I've worked in, we've counted the questions we're asked. There are usually different types of questions: directional (where's the bathroom/where are the audio books), computer (how do I print), ready reference (What's the capital of Hungary), title (do you have Skippyjon Jones) and reference (I need information about asthma).

I'm proposing a new category. I'm going to call it "Yelling" or perhaps "Chastising" but let's be honest, mostly I yell. All summer long the library was packed with kids, and well we did have the occasional behavioral problem, it was mostly great. Now that school is back in session, it is pretty quiet during the day...but after school hours are a DISASTER. The little monsters are everywhere, tearing down displays, running (literally) rampant through the stacks and knocking over senior citizens, destroying my toddler toys, STEALING things out of the youth desk when there isn't anyone there (we're short handed, this month).

I am going crazy. I've been getting ready to do some redecorating and put in some cool (and cheap) literacy activiities, some new toy type things, etc. But I can't because they will destroy them!

The next time I have to tell a child more than ten times "No running in the library" I'm going to make them sit next to me and cut out stickers.

No, there are no parents with these children. After all, the library is merely a source of free after school child care.

Pilot Training, Part III

As I've mentioned before, I got a ton of unasked for advice about how busy Einstein would be, how much my life would suck, etc.

Before I move on to the subject of today's post, I am going to go ahead and say, yes, Einstein is busy. Yes, some nights (like tonight) I come home and make dinner and know that he won't eat it with me. Boo hoo. I don't think pilot training is anyone's ideal of newlywed life, but it is not horrible. He gets weekends off, even if he does spend most of the weekend studying. We live amongst a super close community of people our age all dealing with the same issues. Also, the noise of jets overhead is just plain (plane?? haha pun!) cool. But yes. The rumors are true. Expect that of the 13 months of training, your spouse will spend at least 6 of them (if not more) working full 12 hour days, and studying most of the other 12 per day. Accept the long hours, see "Pilot Training, Post II", stock up on Lean Cuisines, and move on.

Now, on to address what I consider to be the most difficult part of pilot training. The emotional work. And I do mean work. Pilot training is mentally and physically exhausting, but the emotional exhaustion that the students struggle with is harder. The always hanging overhead knowledge that you are in direct competition with the other students in your class. The "tough love" or really, just tough, teaching methods of some of the Instructor Pilots. The fact that the pace never lets up- there is always something coming up that must be studied for and prepared. I thought that Einstein had the market cornered on mental (and emotional) toughness. I still think he does, in comparison to some of the dudes we know here.

BUT. It is so hard to find the emotional reserves to be his supporter and cheerleader. Especially on days like today, when I would like a little attention myself. It is hard to maintain the "Hey, you can do it!" attitude when you know that your location and lifestyle depend on how well he does in training. His frustration, mostly with himself, can be hard to deal with. The pressure is intense, and emotions run high.

So that is what I struggle with the most: keeping my own emotions on an even keel and helping him deal with the ups and downs of UPT. I've come to accept the highs and lows, and mostly just focus on reminding him how much I love him and how much faith I have in him.

Absent friends

Earlier this year one of our friends died. I posted about it then, and then took the post down because it was too soon, and it hurt too much and I just....didn't feel like talking about it.

It was a very different sort of grief then I had ever experienced before...unlike any loss I had known before.

For a variety of reasons- people moving on and feeling ready to talk about him, Einstein being at the same place in training, talking about things that we did with him, hearing songs on the radio that make me think of him, whatever- our friend has come up in conversation more and more in the past few weeks.

And suddenly, it's like it just happened, all over again. It scares me. I've never felt this before; always before, when I've lost some one, I've gone through all the stages of grief sequentially and neatly, like a good little girl.

The other night, lying in bed, I asked my husband if he had noticed it too. I asked him if it was causing the same fears it was in me; fears of plane crashes and knocks on the door. He said it was. I still don't know if I'm relieved or horrified that my husband is just as scared of that as I am.

But I do know that we miss you, my friend.

So I propose a toast: To absent friends.

Why I love storytime

Today we had storytime. It was fantastic. One of the books I read was "When Dinosaurs Came with Everything" by Elise Broach. One of the things I like the best about working as a children's librarian is the sheer enthusiasm that little kids have. When I worked with teens, they never got that excited. About anything.

So the excitement of my crowd of preschoolers as I read this cute picture book about a little boy who sets out with his mom on a day of boring errands and discovers (to his delight and his mother's dismay) that today, they are giving out dinosaurs- real ones- with everything, was pretty much overwhelming. They LOVED it. And I loved them, with their open smiley faces and eyes that drank in every illustration.

This is the reason that I will continue looking for youth librarian jobs everywhere we move. It would be much easier to get a job as an information broker or database indexer (very portable, work from home options for those with an MLS). The job search at each new locale is worth it though, to see those happy little faces.

Why, yes, I am a huge sucker for kids. Why do you ask?

Also, I am planning to get back to my pilot training series. I swear. Also, I'm thinking about a post about why being a librarian is the ideal milspouse career...stay tuned.

Does this bother anyone else?

If you listen to country music, you've heard them. What I like to call the "death songs". They never fail to make me cry.

They're about men and women in uniform dying. (Usually men, but we'll save the rant on sexism for later.) "If You're Reading This" by Tim McGraw. "Bagpipes Cryin'" by Rushlow Harris. You get the idea. The other day driving to work I heard "Just a Dream" by Carrie Underwood.

If you've heard the song you know its about the same as all the others, with the difference that it is a woman singing. Anyway, a few days later I was working out at the gym, watching CMT. The video for the song came on. Objectively, it is a pretty good video, other than the crappy computer graphics when they are turning her wedding dress into a black mourning dress.

Subjectively, it pisses me off. The whole feel of the video is "old"- definitely very forties/fifties- and it makes me feel like they (whoever they are) are trying to deny that people in the military are dying today, while still trying to cash in on public awareness and sympathy for those killed in action. Maybe I feel that way because I know for a fact that most people in the US have no real sympathy for the military and their sacrifices; I often feel like the articles in PEOPLE and songs like the ones above are the manifestation of an obsession much like the one with Britney Spears:

People are willing to watch, and chide, and offer opinions and condemnation that do not one single helpful thing. They want to see each gory detail played out; see the tears on each widow's face, watch endless video of a soldier hugging her kids as she leaves on her third deployment in five years, sigh and shake their heads sadly at the Memorial Day newspaper with photos of young widows crying in Arlington. What they DON'T want to do is take any responsibility for the situation. Nor do they want to do constructive things to help.

Now, I'm not saying everyone is like this. But I honestly think that the vast majority of people like to pretend they are entitled to be voyeurs and users of military grief without ever giving back. It is sort of like when people come up to Einstein and thank him for his service. This drives him crazy, because he's never been deployed. Also, because right now the Air Force is paying him to do his favorite thing in the world: fly. While he is busy trying to come up with a coherent response ("You're welcome" is usually what he settles for, but we both agree that it feels a little brusque), I'm usually trying really hard not to ask that person if they ever do anything for our troops. Do you write letters? Send cards to deployed service members? Take a casserole to the house of that National Guard wife? Fine, you saw my husband in Walgreens or whatever and thanked him, but do you ever go out of your way to do something for military folks?

Ditto to those folks with the little yellow Support Our Troops magnets- I used to joke with Einstein that I was going to go around with a little pre-printed note with real ways to support the troops to stick under the magnets every time I saw them in a parking lot. But I decided that the paper waste would be too much for the environment to take, so I nixed the idea.

Wow. This turned into a huge rant. Sorry about that. But it still pisses me off.

Pilot Training, Part II

The best advice I have for coping with pilot training:

Find a job/hobby/volunteer gig/start a home business.

Doesn't matter what you do, but you need your own thing. Maybe it is because so many of the spouses are newly married and just out of undergrad, but that seems to be a hard one for people to follow. People are also hesitant to look for jobs because they will be moving soon (keep in mind, UPT is thirteen months long, so you'll most likely be there at LEAST that long! And don't get me started on how the pipeline is backed up right now coming out of UPT).

Don't get me wrong. I understand that the cities where UPT bases are located are not exactly metropolises (also, why is it metropolises? shouldn't it be metropoli? I digress...) but if you can't find a job in your field, you can find something that will at least engage your brain and give you something to look forward to while your spouse is gone 12 hrs a day and studying another 6 on top of that.

I have a full time job. This keeps me more than occupied. But if a full time job is not your style (for whatever reason) or just not in the cards, here are some other things I've seen people do successfully:
-Start a business (Mary Kay/whatever or something of your making)
-Volunteer (on base or off)
-Offer to run spouse groups
-Train for a triathlon (seriously, the girl I know who does this is SO BUFF)
-Take a class- online courses are your friend! There are so many legit schools with awesome programs, look around!
-Take a class- community ed! check out you local library! Cooking, languages, ballet for adults oh my!
-Part time/substitute gig
-Write (and publish!) a book
-Work on reading through the literary canon (The woman who does this is so cool, she is always reading something totally awesome and looking to talk about it).

I'm not saying you have to go overboard. But find something that is just yours, even if it is only a couple hours a week and then OWN it. Be excited about it, talk about it, enjoy it, make your spouse learn at least something about it. You'll be a lot happier, trust me. All the people I've met who are happy and dealing well with the stress of a spouse in UPT have something of their own that keeps them occupied. I hate to be all "just think positive" but seriously, find something that at least adds to your happiness and then focus on that.

**Disclaimer: I have no children. My advice is for people who also have no kids. If you have kids and your spouse is in UPT, you are a better soul than I. But from observation I can tell you that it is very doable whether you work outside the home or not. I know lots of ladies who manage it with style and grace.

Pilot Training, Part I

Before Einstein and I married, we knew he was headed to pilot training. Air Force UPT (Undergraduate Pilot Training) is 13 months of twelve hour duty days, endless studying and emotional exhaustion.

In other words, it is like most military training.

Amongst my Air Force friends (and I had a lot, even without that fancy brown card!) UPT had gathered a mystique. Whether or not their husbands were pilots, my friends gleefully gave me a metric ton of unasked for advice:

"Don't plan on talking to him for a year!"

"My husband was too busy to hug me. It was the worst year of my life, and of our marriage."

"You shouldn't even bother moving there. It's not like you will see him anyway."

The last bit of advice was one that I heard from numerous sources. Obviously, I didn't follow it. Looking back now, at roughly the halfway point (almost!!) I have to say that it was hands down the worst piece of advice that I was given. I'm going to try to write a little series on pilot training, with my advice for those wives/girlfriends/fiancees who are headed into those dreaded 13 months. I hope that my advice is more reassuring than any of the advice I received.

I'm planning to concentrate on different aspects and problems we've faced. I have a feeling most of it will be applicable across the military, not just to AF pilots. I will probably end up repeating things that most of my reader's already know. But maybe it will be handy for that scared, research and internet dependent woman like me, who was hoping for some ray of sunshine and practical advice in the sea of negativity.

My motivation is gone

I love my job.

I love my job.

I love my job.

(Seriously, I do.)

Summer, however, kills me. My public school childhood hardwired the three month vacation into me and I am SO DONE with working during the summer. I want to sleep in, lay by the pool, take afternoon naps, eat picnic lunches and swim all day. And I have not had a single spare moment to do any of those things. I want my summer!!!

The obvious solution is to become a school librarian *insert hysterical laughter here*.

Honestly, I have this sneaking suspicion that summer isn't half as relaxing as a grown-up, even if you don't have to go to work. It's just that a lot of my IRL friends are not working outside the home right now and they seem to be having so much fun this summer. I want to have some too!

*Note: I really appreciate school librarians. I think they are amazing people, and I wouldn't do their job for a million dollars...which is obviously far far higher than the average librarian's salary. Literally, the thought of working in a school library makes me ill. Even with three months "off" in the summer.

Collection development

Librarian post ahead.

So one of the main parts of my job is ordering books and other materials for my library. Specifically, since I am a children's librarian, for people ages 0-12. This is really really hard.

Why? Because I used to be a teen librarian. I know what is appropriate for teens. I know what they like. I know what's new, which authors are cool, which one's teachers like (and assign!) and what is so last week. Kids? Not so much. Library school (and general library work) have given me a pretty decent clue about picture books and a few chapter books, but most of the time I am adrift, trying to learn a whole new age group.

It's good. It's broadening my horizons.

It makes me take FOREVER to complete one stupid order. After the fifth inquiry about when I would have an order list completed, I finally broke down and confessed to our collections librarian today. It went something like this:

"C, I have to look up every book to read reviews,"

"What? You mean to check if we have it already? The system will auto-notify you!"

"No. Because I have no idea what these books are about. I look up review for every single one."

It was hard. It was ugly. But it bought me a few days on my order. (Also C wasn't mad, just amused that I hadn't confessed earlier.)

Also, spending tens of thousands of dollars on books makes me want to go to the bookstore for myself really, really badly. Since, you know, it is definitely NOT ethical to sneak my own book wants into a purchase order.

Unending Anticipatory Grief

Okay. I spend enough time on Spousebuzz to realize that anticipatory grief is a pretty normal thing in the milspouse world.

My problem is that I can't turn it off, and there is no end in sight. Any day that Einstein flies is one where I fear for his safety. This isn't a problem with rational thought; trust me when I say that I know flying is safe, that Einstein is a good pilot (for a student, anyway!), that really pilot is a pretty safe job when all things are considered, and that in a training environment everyone is on their toes, etc etc etc. I get it.

I think about his death every single day. Several times each day. On the way to work. When I get to work. On my lunch break (what if they were looking for me while I was at McDonald's???). When I get home. While I wait for him to come home. I rehearse the knock, how it would happen if I was at work. It is to the point where I pick up the house before I leave in case he dies while I'm at work and I have people all over our house that night. I think about my clothes, and whether that is what I want to be wearing when they tell me my husband is dead.

The past few nights Einstein has gotten home later than anticipated for various reasons. I go into panic mode immediately, calling other wives to see if any of his flight mates are home. I'm not a wreck...it is just always there.

And I can't live like this for the rest of my life. If he were deployed, I could rationalize it. I would expect this level of obsession. But he is going to be flying nearly every day for the next ten years (hopefully! he's a grouch when he doesn't fly!) and I can't sustain this that long. I really can't. And I can't turn it off.

Seriously, how do other people cope?

Maybe you can help me...

"Maybe you can help me" is seriously my least favorite phrase to hear from a patron.

Dude, I get paid to help you. It is the main component of my job. I went to freaking grad school so that I could help you.

I'm pretty sure I can help you.

Also, what do you say to that? I mean, what do you say that is friendly and customer service oriented? "Yes, I can help you" with a perky smile is my usual reply, but even I get sick of that after awhile.

Oh, Family Gatherings

Sometimes I feel bad for relatives of military people. I can slot pretty much all of our extended family (and the extended family of our military friends) into four categories:

1) Military relatives. Obviously they "get it." While you may not like their Jalepeño Apple Pie, you don't have to worry about dumb questions from them (usually).

2) Endless Questioners. "So do you really move that much? Can't you just tell them you don't want to deploy? What types of planes are those again? How long is your commitment? Do you think...." The worst form of this is the relatives who don't understand "I can't tell you what I know about that" or "I can't talk about that." I am always embarrassed for them (after all, I know how it feels to be told that Einstein can't tell me something) but I am also constantly shocked at how people try to get around it by continuing to ask questions about a topic he has told them is off limits!!! What is that about??

3) The Know-it-Alls. This type of relative (I have a LOT of this type) are the ones who never served a day in the military in their lives, but know all about the military. They seem to honestly believe that they know it all and are constantly trying to impress Einstein (and whatever other poor souls are sitting on the deck with him) with their encyclopedic "knowledge." Some of these types are fairly harmless, and can even be amusing (the uncle who always tries to finish Einstein's sentences and is crestfallen when he is wrong). Some of them (my uncle) are annoying, patronizing and dead wrong about pretty much everything. ("You'll see how it is after you've been in awhile" Um, excuse me? You were never IN the military!) Also, this type tends to think they know more than me (the little wifey). Naturally, this makes them my least favorite.

4) The Oblivious. These range from those who have no understanding/experience with the military, and who have so little concept of what the lifestyle is like that they do not even realize the differences from their own lives. Some of these are the apathetic relatives, who also tend to be narcissistic. My least favorite is this type are those who actively dismiss you after they hear about the military affiliation. That drives me crazy!

My revelation for the weekend is this: it is hard for the "civilian" relatives to break free from these categories, because if you don't ask a million questions or act like you know it all, I am liable to think you are Oblivious. So what is my perfect relative like?

They are as interested in asking questions about Einstein's life as they are in asking questions about his cousin's med school antics. They never assume they know more than he does. And they don't dwell on it overlong (for instance, trapping Einstein in a corner the entire night of a family barbecue and grilling him about military life) before moving on to other topics.

A quote from ALA past

To make up for my own dissaointment over missing ALA (the American Library Associations monster yearly conference) this year, I am going to post my favorite quote from ALA's past.

In 1937, Frances Clarke Sayers gave an impassioned address entitled The Nightingale, which focused on how children's librarians needed to combat the tendency to give children books that were dumbed down, that focused on the mundane and easy to understand. Every day I struggle against this same issue. Collection development (which books to buy), reference interviews (which books to recommend), reader's advisory, etc, they all lead me back to this one issue. So I try to keep this quote in mind throughout my day.

She said:

“Of what are we afraid? Of words, of emotion, of experience? We are very tender, it seems to me, of the young,
and tenderness is no preparation for a world half mad and savage. "

So, can we talk about something besides flying now?

After spending the ENTIRE weekend as the only civilian with a bunch of military pilots-in-training, I can safely say that I really would rather not talk about anything flying related for, oh, hmmm, well, you know, at LEAST a month.

The chances of this are slim to none.

Don't get me wrong. Einstein has wanted to be a pilot as long as I've known him (really, since he was five and went on his first helicopter flight). And he loves flying so much. And I love him so much. He spent years thinking his dream of flying in the military was impossible, and then it was a long process of maybes, and "if this works out" and now he is finally doing what he has always wanted to do and I don't begrudge him a second of it.

I'm only saying that it might be nice to talk about other topics, from time to time. We don't even have to talk about books or libraries or anything like that. We could talk about how Spain defeated Germany today in the EuroCup (hooray!). We could talk about cooking. Or the rising price of gas...but that would lead to talk of jet fuel...

I know lots of families that don't discuss religion or politics at the dinner table. I'm thinking maybe no flying at the dinner table? Just for a few days?

Stop! No hitting in the library!

Today I had to stop a six year old boy from mauling his sister. I was walking over to the information desk from the back of the stacks (that's shelves, in librarianese) and made the turn just in time to see the young man tackle his slightly older sister to the ground (hard enough that he caused my computer monitor to spin like a top!) and begin to beat the living tar out of her.

And yes, I can say living tar. I live in the South. Deal with it.

So I rushed over and started with the "Stop! We don't hit people in the library!" spiel. I would have added that we don't hit people at all, but I got taken to task once for telling a patron's child that "We don't hit other people EVER" , so now I limit myself to saying "in the library."

I seriously though I was going to have to pry the kid off of his sister. It was out of control. He finally stopped and ran off to destroy one of my display racks. His parents? Nowhere in sight. Sigh.

Also, a conversation between Einstein and I at dinner:

E: And then so and so said "Well, it sure sounds like *insert mysogynistic/anti-woman comment here*"
Me: REALLY? I totally can't believe he said that, he doesn't seem the type.
E: Well, I think he's just like me...it doesn't matter if you believe it, it is just easier to say it once and awhile, you know, to fit in...
Me: OH REALLY? So what kind of things do you say?
E: uhhhhhhhhh. Nothing. I don't say anything at work. Ever.

Conversation with a coworker

"Wait, your husband is an officer?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. So, why are you working here?"

What I said "Well, *random lame ramblings about my love of libraries and massive student debt*"

What I was thinking, "I really have no idea."

Disclaimer: I love my job. But this was at the end of a looooooooong day.

Yes, we go to bed that early

Most of my non-military affiliated friends live the life of the young and upwardly mobile or the young and well-trust-funded (tough, I feel for them). This leads to a fair amount of dissonance between our lives and world views. It always has; after all, I could never afford to hire a maid or send my laundry out. (Yes I had friends in college who did those things.)

But the sticking point lately is less about political debates about the necessity of the military or inability to cope with the idea of frequent and seemingly pointless moves around the country.

The sticking point is our bed time. My friends cannot handle the fact that any call to us after 9 PM will not be answered.

Now, I grew up in a house where if you were calling after 9 PM you had better be 1) dead 2) dying or 3) calling about someone else in one of the previous two conditions. This was non-negotiable. My parents are hardcore about very few things, but the 9 PM phone cut off was sacrosanct. I never thought much about it (other than a brief interlude in college where the jealous ex of my roomate's new boyfriend called EVERY NIGHT at 3 AM) and I certainly didn't follow it. But with Einstein's flying schedule and my own work schedule, it makes sense to go to bed at around 9:30. And I need a half and hour of quiet time before I can fall asleep. So if the call comes in after 9, I don't even see it (oh the wonder of cell phones!) until the next morning. Obnoxious? Perhaps. Ornery? Maybe. Ridiculous? No.

Frankly, if you want to talk to me that badly, call me before 9 PM.