Look on the bright side...
So amidst my extreme nervousness and anxiety about asking for time off, it's slowly starting to realize that I'll be seeing wook in a lil over a month and a half. Amazing. I can't believe it. I swear that time crawls by in the beginning. Each day mocking me as I cross it off knowing it was another day away. Another day stuck at a desk instead of lounging in the sand. Another day hearing about how intense flight school is, how wook hasn't caught a break his whole career in the Navy, and overall annoying him with texts ("you're cute." "sexy baby." "miss you.")
What I can believe is that this Sunday marks 6 months apart. I still remember the day I left. It was one of the worst days of my life. I didn't think I had that much liquid in reserve to cry that much at breakfast, in the car, at the airport, on the plane, lol. I think I dehydrated myself in a matter of a couple hours. But what I can't help but compare to it, is that it's the same freakin' timespan as a basic deployment, people. Where's my prize? Don't I deserve something? It may not be the typical deployment of a WestPac, and back to Diego, but it's still a long ass time apart. I'll kill someone if wook and I ever have to go more than this 8 months apart. I'm thinking I'll just stage wook's death so we can run away to the French Polynesian islands. Hide out with Captain Ron. :)
All I think about is how I can't wait to board the damn plane, looking as fabulous as I can, hoping to sleep most of the way there, and arrive in time to get the one thing I ask for: a fatty hug. I'm a hugger. Not crappy, side hugs. Full on, Grizzly Adams, I-think-you-just-broke-a-rib hug. I miss my human contact with the silverback gorilla I so adore. There's something about him. His lumbering ol' self. Chef Boy-ar-wookie. The guy who can jump from around the corner, scare the crap outta me, get slapped, and still make me laugh because I can't believe I scare that easy. He's just the coolest person I know. (I know some people may take offense to that statement, but you guys are a close second. Trust me.)
And in my heart I know I'm dying for two weeks with him, but my head says that trying to push through with my career will only allow one week with him. Well, like 9 days to be exact. And as much as I want to throw a tantrum like a 3-year-old and demand two weeks, I have to realize the silver lining. I could have zero weeks with him. And that's something I just can't do.
So as I finalize getting my one, fabulous, can't-wait-for, hope-time-crawls-by week of wookie, I can't not get exited to a.) see my handsome boy, b.) hang out in Nashville over the holidays, c.) see wook's dad and Grandmoose again, and d.) meet wook's half-sister Taylor. It should be a blast. So here's to higher costing airfare around the holidays, holding off on the stereotypical cold weather additional poundage, zero stress equaling zero breakouts, and a bottle of Dramamine incase the ride gets bumpy. Prost.
What I can believe is that this Sunday marks 6 months apart. I still remember the day I left. It was one of the worst days of my life. I didn't think I had that much liquid in reserve to cry that much at breakfast, in the car, at the airport, on the plane, lol. I think I dehydrated myself in a matter of a couple hours. But what I can't help but compare to it, is that it's the same freakin' timespan as a basic deployment, people. Where's my prize? Don't I deserve something? It may not be the typical deployment of a WestPac, and back to Diego, but it's still a long ass time apart. I'll kill someone if wook and I ever have to go more than this 8 months apart. I'm thinking I'll just stage wook's death so we can run away to the French Polynesian islands. Hide out with Captain Ron. :)
All I think about is how I can't wait to board the damn plane, looking as fabulous as I can, hoping to sleep most of the way there, and arrive in time to get the one thing I ask for: a fatty hug. I'm a hugger. Not crappy, side hugs. Full on, Grizzly Adams, I-think-you-just-broke-a-rib hug. I miss my human contact with the silverback gorilla I so adore. There's something about him. His lumbering ol' self. Chef Boy-ar-wookie. The guy who can jump from around the corner, scare the crap outta me, get slapped, and still make me laugh because I can't believe I scare that easy. He's just the coolest person I know. (I know some people may take offense to that statement, but you guys are a close second. Trust me.)
And in my heart I know I'm dying for two weeks with him, but my head says that trying to push through with my career will only allow one week with him. Well, like 9 days to be exact. And as much as I want to throw a tantrum like a 3-year-old and demand two weeks, I have to realize the silver lining. I could have zero weeks with him. And that's something I just can't do.
So as I finalize getting my one, fabulous, can't-wait-for, hope-time-crawls-by week of wookie, I can't not get exited to a.) see my handsome boy, b.) hang out in Nashville over the holidays, c.) see wook's dad and Grandmoose again, and d.) meet wook's half-sister Taylor. It should be a blast. So here's to higher costing airfare around the holidays, holding off on the stereotypical cold weather additional poundage, zero stress equaling zero breakouts, and a bottle of Dramamine incase the ride gets bumpy. Prost.
posted by Mrs. Wookie at
1:09 AM
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