Every now and then, like every woman, I've played that helpless female card to elicit some man's sympathy and get help. It works really well getting your bag into an overhead bin on an airplane. But, most of the time, I keep that card put away and shoulder my own burdens. I put on that "I am woman, hear me roar" attitude.
Today I found out that I have another trump card. It's the "Air Force wife whose husband is deployed" card. I unintentionally used it today and discovered its power. I certainly don't plan to use it often, but it sure is nice to have it in my hand when I really need it.
Here's today's tale...
Back on November 14, Jacob rear-ended someone in his car in Montgomery, Alabama, where he goes to college. He called USAA and his car was towed to a collision center there. It had some body work and mechanical work, suspension and wheel on the front right. We paid the $500 deductible and Jacob got the car back just in time to drive it home for Thanksgiving.
While he was home, I sent him to Pensacola Honda with his car for regular maintenance. At 90K miles, it needed several things done, another $500. In addition to that, Honda discovered that the car had a leak at a fitting on the back of the radiator, not something fixable, so the whole radiator would have to be replaced. The leak was probably a result of the accident, but hard to prove. Estimated cost: $708.
At Jacob's suggestion, Wil called USAA anyway. They sent another adjuster out to look at the car at Honda. But before USAA could inspect the car again, Wil deployed. Jacob had to go back to school without his car, so Steve drove him. The car was left at Pensacola Honda and I had to take responsibility.
I didn't hear from USAA, but I got a phone message for Wil from the collision center in Montgomery and a phone call from Honda wanting to know whether to fix the car or not. By the time I got home yesterday, it was too late to call anyone, so I went online to see if there was any information in our account on USAA's website. It looked as if USAA was turning it back over to the collision center in Montgomery. I groaned, thinking that somehow we'd have to get the car back to Montgomery to have it repaired.
Promptly at 8:00 am today, I got someone to cover my class so that I could start making calls. I decided to start with the collision center in Montgomery, because USAA's report said to contact them for details. The phone message had been from a guy named Larry. I swear his voice sounded just like Larry the Cable Guy.
I introduced myself to him on the phone and explained that he couldn't talk to Wil, because he was deployed. I had no intention of eliciting sympathy. I just wanted to explain why I called instead of Wil. However, Larry immediately told me not to worry about anything, that he would take care of everything for me. He came across as sympathetic, helpful, and even a bit protective. I was a little taken aback, but, oh well, I just went along with it!
He got the name and number of my service advisor, Bob, at Pensacola Honda, promised to take care of it for me and call me back with the details. As soon as I hung up, I called Bob to give him a heads up. Within minutes, Larry called back. He said he'd told Pensacola Honda to order me a new radiator. Then he said, "I told them to expedite it and get you back on the road as soon as possible. It should be ready by tomorrow afternoon."
He sounded as if he thought I was stranded without a car and needed him to take charge and rescue me. Of course, I have my own car and Jacob was already back at school, so they didn't really need to have the new radiator sent overnight, but I surely wasn't going to tell him that! If it made Larry feel good to be my rescuer, far be it from me to deny him that satisfaction!
I did double-check to make sure USAA was going to pay for the repair. He reassured me they would. Then he said, "Now, if you have any problems or you don't get your car back tomorrow, or Friday at the latest, you just call me back and I'll take care of it." Of course I thanked him profusely.
In hindsight, I may have gushed my thanks with a little extra southern accent. Though he didn't actually say it, I could almost hear him thinking, "Now, now, don't you worry your pretty little head about it, God bless you!" I could envision his chest puffed out ready to fight my car repair battles for me--poor little Air Force wife whose big strong husband is away fighting for truth, justice, and the American way.
So, I guess I played that card today and let Larry be my hero. No harm was done, the car will get repaired, and I don't have to pay $708. Of course, USAA had already decided to cover the repair cost, but it was really nice to let Larry handle the details.
I'm tucking my "poor little Air Force wife whose husband is deployed" card safely away, just in case I ever need it again.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Wil is gone...again
Wil was home 86 days before deploying again. He was trying to remember how many deployments he has done. He thinks this is number 19. I think it might be number 20. Regardless, it is too many.
I dread the thought of Wil being away AGAIN. On his last deployment, in addition to my sadness and loneliness, so many things broke or went awry. This time, he has worked so hard for the last month installing new things and fixing things and doing maintenance on things to try to prevent a repeat of last time. So, the pond filter is redone, the doors have been replaced with new ones, the porches are tiled--front and back, everything is trimmed and grouted and caulked, there's a new ceiling fan in the living room, the pond lights are replaced, new bulbs are in many places, the sprinkler system is turned off for the winter, the lawn has been mowed for last time, the outdoor things are winterized, all the timers are checked and set, and enough bug killer has been applied to our lawn to make us eligible for the Super Fund. So, hopefully, everything will be okay.
Today was sad. I was sad for me. But, even though I was sad for myself, it was much worse for others. When we first arrived at Wil's squadron, we went upstairs to get Wil's written orders from the civilian guy in charge of mobility. In his cubicle, a female flight engineer was slumped in the corner crying. Wil asked if she was okay. She could only nod as the tears poured silently down her face. The civilian guy was retired Air Force. He said, "I was in for 23 years and deployments never got any easier." After we walked out, Wil told me that the crying engineer has young children and would be away from them over the holidays. While Wil's deployment has a possibility of being shorter, she is going to a different location and hers is nearly guaranteed to be the full 90 days.
Then Wil told me that he would have switched with her, if he could have. The compassionate side of me wished he could have and gotten her back to her children sooner. The selfish side of me was happy that he couldn't trade with her, so I might get him back earlier. In any case, seeing her cry made tears well up in my eyes, but I managed to keep them from spilling. We saw her later, still red-eyed, but calm. I realized she had come to the base earlier than everyone else so that she would have time to cry and compose herself before time to go.
I watched so many young families. I watched men in their desert uniforms cradling babies in their arms or bouncing toddlers on their knees while young wives watched sadly. They were hugging their children and kissing their babies knowing how much their children would grow and change in their absence. I ached for them, knowing I had it much better without children to raise alone in Wil's absence.
I stayed with Wil until he had to board his bus. That last hug and kiss was difficult. It was so hard to let him go. It's the most wrenching feeling when I loosen my hold and let him walk away. I hugged a support post on the outdoor porch area of the building and watched Wil and the guys board the bus. I waited until he was seated by the window and we could give one more wave and I could blow one more kiss. Then I turned and walked away. Every step was difficult.
When I got to the parking lot, I could see the top of Wil's bus over the fence as it pulled away. Other wives were leaving, too, strapping kids into car seats. The young children were oblivious to the sadness of the occasion, but all of us wives were very somber.
I was weepy on the drive home, but not really sobbing...until I passed a church with a changeable sign announcing an upcoming musical called, "I'll Be Home for Christmas." Knowing that Wil will not be home for Christmas made me break down and sob when I read the sign. The moment passed, but the tears kept falling.
The hardest part of Wil's leaving, next to actually letting him go after that last hug, is coming home to an empty quiet house. Fortunately, my wonderful son was home this time, waiting for me with hugs and margaritas and really good chocolate. We got a pizza, settled in on the couch with our goodies, and watched an old Rock Hudson/Gina Lollabrigida movie.
Now I'm writing. Talking and writing make me feel better, not good, but better. People who have never done it have no idea how hard it is to send a loved one go off to war. What I hear from people all the time is "Three months isn't that long, at least it's not a year" and "At least you had him home for Thanksgiving." Those things do not make me feel better. It's like people are trying to say that my sadness isn't valid and I'm not grateful for the things I have. I'd much rather people validate my feelings with nothing more than "I'm so sorry Wil has to be away."
Sigh. I have a feeling I'll be blogging often while Wil is away. So, if you are interested, stay posted.
I dread the thought of Wil being away AGAIN. On his last deployment, in addition to my sadness and loneliness, so many things broke or went awry. This time, he has worked so hard for the last month installing new things and fixing things and doing maintenance on things to try to prevent a repeat of last time. So, the pond filter is redone, the doors have been replaced with new ones, the porches are tiled--front and back, everything is trimmed and grouted and caulked, there's a new ceiling fan in the living room, the pond lights are replaced, new bulbs are in many places, the sprinkler system is turned off for the winter, the lawn has been mowed for last time, the outdoor things are winterized, all the timers are checked and set, and enough bug killer has been applied to our lawn to make us eligible for the Super Fund. So, hopefully, everything will be okay.
Today was sad. I was sad for me. But, even though I was sad for myself, it was much worse for others. When we first arrived at Wil's squadron, we went upstairs to get Wil's written orders from the civilian guy in charge of mobility. In his cubicle, a female flight engineer was slumped in the corner crying. Wil asked if she was okay. She could only nod as the tears poured silently down her face. The civilian guy was retired Air Force. He said, "I was in for 23 years and deployments never got any easier." After we walked out, Wil told me that the crying engineer has young children and would be away from them over the holidays. While Wil's deployment has a possibility of being shorter, she is going to a different location and hers is nearly guaranteed to be the full 90 days.
Then Wil told me that he would have switched with her, if he could have. The compassionate side of me wished he could have and gotten her back to her children sooner. The selfish side of me was happy that he couldn't trade with her, so I might get him back earlier. In any case, seeing her cry made tears well up in my eyes, but I managed to keep them from spilling. We saw her later, still red-eyed, but calm. I realized she had come to the base earlier than everyone else so that she would have time to cry and compose herself before time to go.
I watched so many young families. I watched men in their desert uniforms cradling babies in their arms or bouncing toddlers on their knees while young wives watched sadly. They were hugging their children and kissing their babies knowing how much their children would grow and change in their absence. I ached for them, knowing I had it much better without children to raise alone in Wil's absence.
I stayed with Wil until he had to board his bus. That last hug and kiss was difficult. It was so hard to let him go. It's the most wrenching feeling when I loosen my hold and let him walk away. I hugged a support post on the outdoor porch area of the building and watched Wil and the guys board the bus. I waited until he was seated by the window and we could give one more wave and I could blow one more kiss. Then I turned and walked away. Every step was difficult.
When I got to the parking lot, I could see the top of Wil's bus over the fence as it pulled away. Other wives were leaving, too, strapping kids into car seats. The young children were oblivious to the sadness of the occasion, but all of us wives were very somber.
I was weepy on the drive home, but not really sobbing...until I passed a church with a changeable sign announcing an upcoming musical called, "I'll Be Home for Christmas." Knowing that Wil will not be home for Christmas made me break down and sob when I read the sign. The moment passed, but the tears kept falling.
The hardest part of Wil's leaving, next to actually letting him go after that last hug, is coming home to an empty quiet house. Fortunately, my wonderful son was home this time, waiting for me with hugs and margaritas and really good chocolate. We got a pizza, settled in on the couch with our goodies, and watched an old Rock Hudson/Gina Lollabrigida movie.
Now I'm writing. Talking and writing make me feel better, not good, but better. People who have never done it have no idea how hard it is to send a loved one go off to war. What I hear from people all the time is "Three months isn't that long, at least it's not a year" and "At least you had him home for Thanksgiving." Those things do not make me feel better. It's like people are trying to say that my sadness isn't valid and I'm not grateful for the things I have. I'd much rather people validate my feelings with nothing more than "I'm so sorry Wil has to be away."
Sigh. I have a feeling I'll be blogging often while Wil is away. So, if you are interested, stay posted.
Friday, October 28, 2011
I love and hate the USAF
Time to write about my love/hate relationship with the USAF. Most of the time I love them, even though I am often exasperated. The USAF provides Wil and I with income, security, insurance, base privileges, recreation, tax-free shopping, and other benefits. There is quite a bit to love about it. The people I have met through Wil's AF job all have all been very nice. As an AF spouse, I've gotten to do and see some really cool things that others only dream of. So, before I begin my ranting and whining, let me be clear that I think the USAF is a wonderful institution.
HOWEVER, decisions and plans change like the wind. It's great for operational security, but bad for families and their plans. Also, this 10-year war is starting to stretch the troops thin. USAF Special Operations is short on flight engineers. Since that is Wil's career field, it affects him greatly. AND, what affects Wil affects me and the rest of the family.
Wil arrived home from deployment August 31. He had a week off when he got home. Then he spent a couple of weeks out-processing from training squadron where he had been instructing and then in-processing back into his previous combat squadron. His 2 1/2 years without deploying was nice as long as he was teaching. Now that is over and it is back to the reality of being in a short-handed combat squadron.
On October 15, Wil was put on alert status. That means that he can't travel more than about 25-30 miles from home in any direction. His boundaries are Pensacola to the west, somewhere past Destin to the east and I-10 to the north. This primary alert crew must be ready to deploy immediately, if needed. This lasts until Nov. 15.
Recently, he was notified that when his alert status ends Nov. 15, he was going on secondary alert status for a month, which means his leash is longer, because he would have a little longer to get ready to deploy. Sheesh. But we barely got reconciled to all of that when he got a bombshell today that changed everything. His deployment was moved up from the end of December to the end of November. He's no longer going on secondary alert, because he'll be deploying.
There's good and bad about deploying early. Obviously, I am not happy that his time at home will be less than 3 months. It seems like he just got back! Worst of all, he will miss Christmas. Bye-bye, Merry Christmas. Hello, Blue Christmas. No squadron Christmas party. IF I go to my faculty Christmas party, I'll be going stag. Ditto for the family Christmas party. No decorations on the outside of the house, because I can't take them down. I'll be putting up the Christmas tree and taking it down by myself. And even though I'll hopefully have Jacob here for Christmas Eve and Christmas morning, I'll spend part of Christmas Day alone. Not fun.
HOWEVER, there are some positives. He's going to a different (read: safer) location. There is a slim possibility that his deployment may be shorter. Even if he does stay the whole 90 days, he'll be home for Spring Break. He'll be home before the lawn needs mowing again. Jacob will be home for a month, approximately Dec. 10 to Jan. 8, so I won't be alone the whole time.
I am trying to be positive. Heck, knowing AFSOC, this could all change tomorrow!
Earlier this week, Wil told me that everyone at his squadron was getting 1/2 day off Friday (today) and it was going to be "Take Back Spooky Island" time. It was more or less going to be a party. He said if I could get off 1/2 day, we'd take the boat out and party with them. I spent 3 days looking for a sub with no luck. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a sub for Friday afternoon on short notice??? By Thursday afternoon, I was just about to call the sub line and take whatever I could get. Then Wil called me. Yup, the whole thing had been called off. The excuse was a forecast of inclement weather (that never came). All that stress and worry and planning for naught. I am just grateful it got called off before I called the sub-line.
Yes, USAF, I love you dearly. BUT, like a husband, you can be infuriating at times. It's true that no one can break your heart unless you truly love them. So, take my husband away early, USAF. You know I'll be unhappy and distraught and miserable for a time, but you know I'll love you anyway.
HOWEVER, decisions and plans change like the wind. It's great for operational security, but bad for families and their plans. Also, this 10-year war is starting to stretch the troops thin. USAF Special Operations is short on flight engineers. Since that is Wil's career field, it affects him greatly. AND, what affects Wil affects me and the rest of the family.
Wil arrived home from deployment August 31. He had a week off when he got home. Then he spent a couple of weeks out-processing from training squadron where he had been instructing and then in-processing back into his previous combat squadron. His 2 1/2 years without deploying was nice as long as he was teaching. Now that is over and it is back to the reality of being in a short-handed combat squadron.
On October 15, Wil was put on alert status. That means that he can't travel more than about 25-30 miles from home in any direction. His boundaries are Pensacola to the west, somewhere past Destin to the east and I-10 to the north. This primary alert crew must be ready to deploy immediately, if needed. This lasts until Nov. 15.
Recently, he was notified that when his alert status ends Nov. 15, he was going on secondary alert status for a month, which means his leash is longer, because he would have a little longer to get ready to deploy. Sheesh. But we barely got reconciled to all of that when he got a bombshell today that changed everything. His deployment was moved up from the end of December to the end of November. He's no longer going on secondary alert, because he'll be deploying.
There's good and bad about deploying early. Obviously, I am not happy that his time at home will be less than 3 months. It seems like he just got back! Worst of all, he will miss Christmas. Bye-bye, Merry Christmas. Hello, Blue Christmas. No squadron Christmas party. IF I go to my faculty Christmas party, I'll be going stag. Ditto for the family Christmas party. No decorations on the outside of the house, because I can't take them down. I'll be putting up the Christmas tree and taking it down by myself. And even though I'll hopefully have Jacob here for Christmas Eve and Christmas morning, I'll spend part of Christmas Day alone. Not fun.
HOWEVER, there are some positives. He's going to a different (read: safer) location. There is a slim possibility that his deployment may be shorter. Even if he does stay the whole 90 days, he'll be home for Spring Break. He'll be home before the lawn needs mowing again. Jacob will be home for a month, approximately Dec. 10 to Jan. 8, so I won't be alone the whole time.
I am trying to be positive. Heck, knowing AFSOC, this could all change tomorrow!
Earlier this week, Wil told me that everyone at his squadron was getting 1/2 day off Friday (today) and it was going to be "Take Back Spooky Island" time. It was more or less going to be a party. He said if I could get off 1/2 day, we'd take the boat out and party with them. I spent 3 days looking for a sub with no luck. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a sub for Friday afternoon on short notice??? By Thursday afternoon, I was just about to call the sub line and take whatever I could get. Then Wil called me. Yup, the whole thing had been called off. The excuse was a forecast of inclement weather (that never came). All that stress and worry and planning for naught. I am just grateful it got called off before I called the sub-line.
Yes, USAF, I love you dearly. BUT, like a husband, you can be infuriating at times. It's true that no one can break your heart unless you truly love them. So, take my husband away early, USAF. You know I'll be unhappy and distraught and miserable for a time, but you know I'll love you anyway.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
R.I.P. Steve Jobs
The world is a better place because he lived. He will be so greatly missed, but his legacy will live on forever.
In my house, you can find 1 MacBook, 1 MacBook Pro, 1 Mac Mini, 2 iPhones, 1 iPad, 1 Airport Extreme, 1 Apple TV, 2 iPods, and 2 iPod shuffles.
That count does not include the First Generation iPhone, the iPhone 3, and the iBook that are no longer in use. It also does not include the 1986 MacPlus in storage.
When my son is home from college, you can add another MacBook Pro and iPhone.
Thank you, Steve Jobs. Apple forever.
In my house, you can find 1 MacBook, 1 MacBook Pro, 1 Mac Mini, 2 iPhones, 1 iPad, 1 Airport Extreme, 1 Apple TV, 2 iPods, and 2 iPod shuffles.
That count does not include the First Generation iPhone, the iPhone 3, and the iBook that are no longer in use. It also does not include the 1986 MacPlus in storage.
When my son is home from college, you can add another MacBook Pro and iPhone.
Thank you, Steve Jobs. Apple forever.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Time to turn in my resignation!
To whom it may concern,
As of noon, August 31, I hereby resign from the following duties:
lawn maintenance
plumber
sprinkler repair
automotive mechanic
electrician
pond maintenance
home handyman
car washer
I would like to point out that I am resigning with everything in perfect working order to return to the guy who has been on an extended leave of absence fighting a war.
Sincerely,
Terri Pernia
As of noon, August 31, I hereby resign from the following duties:
lawn maintenance
plumber
sprinkler repair
automotive mechanic
electrician
pond maintenance
home handyman
car washer
I would like to point out that I am resigning with everything in perfect working order to return to the guy who has been on an extended leave of absence fighting a war.
Sincerely,
Terri Pernia
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
I don't want to wear the pants in this family!
Wil and I pretty much fit into traditional roles in our lives. As I wife, I do most of the cooking, gardening, sewing, laundry, shopping, etc...all of those traditional wifely chores. Wil takes care of the lawn, the automotive care and repair, home maintenance and repair, etc...all of those husbandly chores. We share most cleaning chores. In addition to all of this, we both work full-time. So, our lives are busy, but we are happy together and happy in our traditional roles.
It works very well until the war interferes. Wil is ordered away to fight for truth, justice, and the American way. So, now, I am left home to shoulder all of the responsibilities. I'm not really totally helpless. I CAN do more than I WANT to do. Wil worked very hard to make sure all of the maintenance and repairs on everything was caught up, so all I would really have to take on was the lawn. I got lessons from him in lawn mowing, trimming, and edging. Since I was out of school, I thought it would be easy.
Well, I was wrong. Mowing, trimming, and edging in the heat is exhausting. What takes him only a short time takes me much longer. Still, I have soldiered on. This is my contribution to the war effort, keeping things back home taken care of, so Wil can concentrate on his job in combat.
However, all of my resolve didn't help when things began to go wrong. Part of the difficulty, you see, is that Wil is an engineer. He thinks like an engineer. He likes to automate things around our house. So, as if by magic, lights go on and off, plants get watered, the lawn gets sprinkled, the birdbath gets filled, the waterfall flows, the pond and fountains are filled. It's truly amazing to see all the automation.
The other part of the difficulty is that I have little to no experience in home or auto repair. I can name the basic tools and I know basically how things work, but that is about it. You see, I grew up with traditional parents, so I learned all of my skills at my mothers knee while my brother tagged around after my dad learning all of those "guy" things.
The problems started a few weeks ago. I went out to clean the pond/waterfall filter. That's usually Wil's job, but when he's gone, I do it. But this time, after I cleaned the filter and plugged the pump back in, it didn't run. Every time I plugged it in, it tripped the circuit breaker. Great. I talked to Wil via Skype that evening and he said I'd probably have to buy a new pump and install it. Great.
Kaleb was with me that weekend. The day after the pump quit, I started to take him home and had a flat tire en route. Great. Sarah came and picked up Kaleb while I waited for roadside assistance. I was on the verge of despair now with a pump to replace AND a tire to get replaced.
But fate wasn't finished with me yet. When I got home, a door broke, actually the door handle. The handle would turn, but the thingy that goes into the door jamb wouldn't retract. (I learned much later that the "thingy" is called a striker bolt.) So, now I could no longer go from the house into the attached garage or vice versa. I realized that, to do the laundry (which is in the garage), I would have to go out the front door and into the big garage door where the cars go in. Great.
In 24 hours, 3 things had broken that I could not repair, nor could they wait for Wil to get home. I was a bit overwhelmed to say the least. I decided to mow the lawn. At least that was something at which I had been successful. I pushed the lawnmower over to the side of the yard to begin just as my neighbor arrived home and went to his mailbox. He's a nice guy. He politely inquired about Wil, then asked when he was coming home. I said, "September, but I really need him home NOW."
I guess my voice broke as I said that. I had been suppressing tears all day. I know, typical woman, I cry when I am really stressed. At that moment, talking to my neighbor, I could barely suppress the tears. He looked at me sharply and inquired if everything was okay. All of my troubles poured out then. He was taken aback, I think. I hastened to assure him that I was going to call my brother to help with the pump and Honda would take care of the tire. When I finished, this wonderfully nice guy offered to get the stuck door open. He did so, and even though it wasn't completely fixed, I knew I could manage until my brother came over.
I talked to my brother Mike before he came over. He had a few tricks up his sleeve to tell me to try to fix the pump problem. I dutifully tried everything he said, but nothing worked. So, he said he'd be over in the next day or two to work on things for me.
That evening I went out to do laundry, through the door my neighbor had recently managed to open for me. Now the washer wasn't working. In all of the testing of the pump, plugging it into various outlets, I had tripped other circuit breakers. I went to the panel and looked for a tripped breaker, but saw nothing amiss. I looked at the list and tried turning off and on the breaker labeled "washer," but it didn't help. After a good cry, I was on Skype with Wil later that evening. From the other side of the planet, he told me how to fix the washer. I didn't realize that one GFI outlet on the washer's circuit had tripped, cutting off all power to that circuit. Sheesh.
So, my brother Mike came over. He fixed the door handle and diagnosed the pump problem. I indeed needed to order a new one, just as Wil had thought. I assured him that I had the tire issue under control. Mike talked with me, made me laugh, hugged me and reassured me.
A week later, the new pump came in and Mike came to install it. It wasn't the easy fix that Wil had assured me I could handle myself. It wasn't just a matter of taking the old pump off and attaching the new pump to the same fittings. No, the filter had to be reconfigured and fittings had to be modified and manhandled. Thank goodness I had called Mike! It did take me a few days after the pump repair to ferret out and reset all of the power and water timers, but I finally got that done. I thought surely everything would be all right now.
Wrong again. Four days after the pump problem was finally resolved, I climbed into Wil's big old Chevy Avalanche truck to move it and it was dead, completely dead, no lights, no sounds, and certainly no cranking. Great. I needed that truck to help move my son, Jacob, back to college in 3 days. Once again on Skype, Wil diagnosed the problem...a dead battery. He assured me that I could replace it, except it would be heavy, so I should get Jacob to help me. I was skeptical, but determined not to call Mike again for help so soon.
So, I read on the internet about how to change automotive batteries. Wil volunteered to coach me through it via Skype. I recruited Jacob to help when he got home from work. I wasn't sure how much he could help. He's very smart, an A student in college, but he hadn't grown up learning about mechanical things. I went out to the garage with Jacob in tow and Wil on Skype, determined to conquer the battery.
I discovered that I couldn't even open the hood! I was a dismal failure. However, my Jacob was a stunning success! He popped the hood open. He handled the tools with ease. Even though the battery was way back against the firewall and under structural supports that had to be removed, Jacob got the battery out with relative ease. I only acted as surgical nurse, handing him tools and holding a pan to corral the loose parts and bolts. Though Wil was itching to reach across the miles through Skype, we managed to change the battery without needing too much help from Wil.
So, now, surely now, everything would be okay until Wil returned. But no. Wrong again. This afternoon tragedy struck yet again. I went out to clean the pond filter again. That was fine, everything was okay, filter cleaned and pump up and running again. But while out there, I noticed that some of the plants were on the verge of death, dying from lack of water. Those plants are supposed to be watered by an automatic micro-irrigation system tied to the sprinkler system.
I turned on the sprinkler system and began to track down the problem. It didn't take long to find it. A quarter inch hose had popped off its fitting, right beside the pond pump outlet. Ah ha! That quarter inch black hose looks almost identical to the black wires from the pond pumps and lights. Either Mike or I must have tugged the hose loose while working with the wires for the pond pumps and lights.
Now, here was a problem I could handle, I thought. I turned off the sprinkler, found the end of the hose and pushed it back onto its fitting. Well, I pushed and pushed, but it just wouldn't slide over the fitting. I pushed and pushed some more. Unfortunately, this fitting is in an awkward spot, between the fake rock covering the pond outlet and the overgrown African Iris by the pond. I decided that if I could unscrew the fitting from the end of the pipe, I could more easily push the micro-irrigation hose on. So, I fetched a tool, a plier.
I tried to unscrew the fitting with the plier, since it wouldn't turn by hand. I could barely turn it even with the plier. So, after a few turns, I gave up on that. I just pushed and pushed the hose, but it just didn't want to fit completely on. Then, I guess I pushed too hard and I must have turned the whole pipe with the plier, because the entire pipe came off in my hand. I was stunned. This pipe fits into a pop-up sprinkler head that is 6 inches or so under the ground. With the pipe off, the sprinkler dropped right down into the hole.
The first thing I did was cry, of course. What made me cry was remembering something Wil told me right before he left. He made me promise to buy a cement sprinkler ring to fit around a raised sprinkler head just off the edge of the porch. He said the one thing that would be most difficult to fix in his absence would be sprinkler heads and he didn't want me to accidentally bump it with the mower and break it off. I did buy and place the ring and I was very careful around that particular sprinkler head. I thought back to his prophetic words that I wouldn't be able to fix the sprinkler system.
For everything else that broke, Wil assured me I could fix it. He was confident I could replace the pond pump, even though I wasn't. He was confident I could change the truck battery, even though I wasn't. But the one thing that Wil doubted my skills about, the sprinkler system, had just broken in my hand. Of course I cried!
But my resolve kicked in. Even though the tears flowed, I dug up that sprinkler head. I turned on the sprinkler to make the pipe fitting pop up. I got soaking wet. My tears mingled with the sprinkler water. I was covered in mud. The hole I dug filled with water and I was trying to grasp a slippery pipe in a mud-filled hole. I managed to get the pipe up a bit.
I trudged back around the house to turn off the sprinkler, clothes dripping, tears flowing, and muddy from head to toe. It's a good thing none of my close neighbors were outside. I know I was a miserable sight. With the sprinkler off, eventually the water in the hole drained away. I managed to manhandle enough of the hose onto the fitting and rescrew the whole pipe assembly back into the sprinkler. I trudged back around the house, turned on the sprinkler again to test everything and make sure the micro-irrigation system was once again watering the plants it should. After one more trip through the sprinkler spray to turn it off, I think I have it fixed enough to last until Wil's return.
But, I couldn't stop crying. I muttered unkind things about the United States Air Force and softly swore terrible oaths to terrorists everywhere. I rinsed off the biggest of the mud with the garden hose. I went in the garage and closed the door and peeled off my wet clothes, still crying. I came inside to shower, still crying. The tears didn't stop until after I was out of the shower.
All of the past few weeks' frustration bubbled up and out of me. All of the sadness and loneliness of missing Wil came rushing up. All of my fears and doubts and worries and stress poured out through my tears. I am calm now as I write about this. I hope I can maintain this as, once again, I connect with Wil on Skype later tonight. The last thing he needs to see is my hysteria when he is too far away to help.
It does help to talk to him. It does help to hear his reassurance and see his confidence in me. However, it is not the same as having his actual shoulder to cry on, having his real arms around me, and having his affection and caring in person. I realize how fortunate I am to have a video and audio connection to him every night. But don't tell me how lucky I am, because it just does not take the place of having him HERE.
I don't want to be a plumber or auto mechanic or electrician. I want my husband back! I want to take him a cold bottle of water while he mows in the heat. I want to stand by the box to turn the sprinkler system on and off for him as he wrestles with pipes and fittings. I want to bake or sew or plant flowers while he takes on the pumps and circuit breakers. I want to admire his skills as he changes the truck battery. I want to be responsible only for womanly skills I excel at.
So, don't tell me how lucky I am that I get to talk to Wil everyday. Don't try to tell me that 3 months is such a short deployment. Nothing will make me happy until I can have my husband home and my life gets back to the way it should be. Only problem is that he won't be home long before Uncle Sam sends him back to the fray and I am left wearing the work pants in the family again. Sigh.
It works very well until the war interferes. Wil is ordered away to fight for truth, justice, and the American way. So, now, I am left home to shoulder all of the responsibilities. I'm not really totally helpless. I CAN do more than I WANT to do. Wil worked very hard to make sure all of the maintenance and repairs on everything was caught up, so all I would really have to take on was the lawn. I got lessons from him in lawn mowing, trimming, and edging. Since I was out of school, I thought it would be easy.
Well, I was wrong. Mowing, trimming, and edging in the heat is exhausting. What takes him only a short time takes me much longer. Still, I have soldiered on. This is my contribution to the war effort, keeping things back home taken care of, so Wil can concentrate on his job in combat.
However, all of my resolve didn't help when things began to go wrong. Part of the difficulty, you see, is that Wil is an engineer. He thinks like an engineer. He likes to automate things around our house. So, as if by magic, lights go on and off, plants get watered, the lawn gets sprinkled, the birdbath gets filled, the waterfall flows, the pond and fountains are filled. It's truly amazing to see all the automation.
The other part of the difficulty is that I have little to no experience in home or auto repair. I can name the basic tools and I know basically how things work, but that is about it. You see, I grew up with traditional parents, so I learned all of my skills at my mothers knee while my brother tagged around after my dad learning all of those "guy" things.
The problems started a few weeks ago. I went out to clean the pond/waterfall filter. That's usually Wil's job, but when he's gone, I do it. But this time, after I cleaned the filter and plugged the pump back in, it didn't run. Every time I plugged it in, it tripped the circuit breaker. Great. I talked to Wil via Skype that evening and he said I'd probably have to buy a new pump and install it. Great.
Kaleb was with me that weekend. The day after the pump quit, I started to take him home and had a flat tire en route. Great. Sarah came and picked up Kaleb while I waited for roadside assistance. I was on the verge of despair now with a pump to replace AND a tire to get replaced.
But fate wasn't finished with me yet. When I got home, a door broke, actually the door handle. The handle would turn, but the thingy that goes into the door jamb wouldn't retract. (I learned much later that the "thingy" is called a striker bolt.) So, now I could no longer go from the house into the attached garage or vice versa. I realized that, to do the laundry (which is in the garage), I would have to go out the front door and into the big garage door where the cars go in. Great.
In 24 hours, 3 things had broken that I could not repair, nor could they wait for Wil to get home. I was a bit overwhelmed to say the least. I decided to mow the lawn. At least that was something at which I had been successful. I pushed the lawnmower over to the side of the yard to begin just as my neighbor arrived home and went to his mailbox. He's a nice guy. He politely inquired about Wil, then asked when he was coming home. I said, "September, but I really need him home NOW."
I guess my voice broke as I said that. I had been suppressing tears all day. I know, typical woman, I cry when I am really stressed. At that moment, talking to my neighbor, I could barely suppress the tears. He looked at me sharply and inquired if everything was okay. All of my troubles poured out then. He was taken aback, I think. I hastened to assure him that I was going to call my brother to help with the pump and Honda would take care of the tire. When I finished, this wonderfully nice guy offered to get the stuck door open. He did so, and even though it wasn't completely fixed, I knew I could manage until my brother came over.
I talked to my brother Mike before he came over. He had a few tricks up his sleeve to tell me to try to fix the pump problem. I dutifully tried everything he said, but nothing worked. So, he said he'd be over in the next day or two to work on things for me.
That evening I went out to do laundry, through the door my neighbor had recently managed to open for me. Now the washer wasn't working. In all of the testing of the pump, plugging it into various outlets, I had tripped other circuit breakers. I went to the panel and looked for a tripped breaker, but saw nothing amiss. I looked at the list and tried turning off and on the breaker labeled "washer," but it didn't help. After a good cry, I was on Skype with Wil later that evening. From the other side of the planet, he told me how to fix the washer. I didn't realize that one GFI outlet on the washer's circuit had tripped, cutting off all power to that circuit. Sheesh.
So, my brother Mike came over. He fixed the door handle and diagnosed the pump problem. I indeed needed to order a new one, just as Wil had thought. I assured him that I had the tire issue under control. Mike talked with me, made me laugh, hugged me and reassured me.
A week later, the new pump came in and Mike came to install it. It wasn't the easy fix that Wil had assured me I could handle myself. It wasn't just a matter of taking the old pump off and attaching the new pump to the same fittings. No, the filter had to be reconfigured and fittings had to be modified and manhandled. Thank goodness I had called Mike! It did take me a few days after the pump repair to ferret out and reset all of the power and water timers, but I finally got that done. I thought surely everything would be all right now.
Wrong again. Four days after the pump problem was finally resolved, I climbed into Wil's big old Chevy Avalanche truck to move it and it was dead, completely dead, no lights, no sounds, and certainly no cranking. Great. I needed that truck to help move my son, Jacob, back to college in 3 days. Once again on Skype, Wil diagnosed the problem...a dead battery. He assured me that I could replace it, except it would be heavy, so I should get Jacob to help me. I was skeptical, but determined not to call Mike again for help so soon.
So, I read on the internet about how to change automotive batteries. Wil volunteered to coach me through it via Skype. I recruited Jacob to help when he got home from work. I wasn't sure how much he could help. He's very smart, an A student in college, but he hadn't grown up learning about mechanical things. I went out to the garage with Jacob in tow and Wil on Skype, determined to conquer the battery.
I discovered that I couldn't even open the hood! I was a dismal failure. However, my Jacob was a stunning success! He popped the hood open. He handled the tools with ease. Even though the battery was way back against the firewall and under structural supports that had to be removed, Jacob got the battery out with relative ease. I only acted as surgical nurse, handing him tools and holding a pan to corral the loose parts and bolts. Though Wil was itching to reach across the miles through Skype, we managed to change the battery without needing too much help from Wil.
So, now, surely now, everything would be okay until Wil returned. But no. Wrong again. This afternoon tragedy struck yet again. I went out to clean the pond filter again. That was fine, everything was okay, filter cleaned and pump up and running again. But while out there, I noticed that some of the plants were on the verge of death, dying from lack of water. Those plants are supposed to be watered by an automatic micro-irrigation system tied to the sprinkler system.
I turned on the sprinkler system and began to track down the problem. It didn't take long to find it. A quarter inch hose had popped off its fitting, right beside the pond pump outlet. Ah ha! That quarter inch black hose looks almost identical to the black wires from the pond pumps and lights. Either Mike or I must have tugged the hose loose while working with the wires for the pond pumps and lights.
Now, here was a problem I could handle, I thought. I turned off the sprinkler, found the end of the hose and pushed it back onto its fitting. Well, I pushed and pushed, but it just wouldn't slide over the fitting. I pushed and pushed some more. Unfortunately, this fitting is in an awkward spot, between the fake rock covering the pond outlet and the overgrown African Iris by the pond. I decided that if I could unscrew the fitting from the end of the pipe, I could more easily push the micro-irrigation hose on. So, I fetched a tool, a plier.
I tried to unscrew the fitting with the plier, since it wouldn't turn by hand. I could barely turn it even with the plier. So, after a few turns, I gave up on that. I just pushed and pushed the hose, but it just didn't want to fit completely on. Then, I guess I pushed too hard and I must have turned the whole pipe with the plier, because the entire pipe came off in my hand. I was stunned. This pipe fits into a pop-up sprinkler head that is 6 inches or so under the ground. With the pipe off, the sprinkler dropped right down into the hole.
The first thing I did was cry, of course. What made me cry was remembering something Wil told me right before he left. He made me promise to buy a cement sprinkler ring to fit around a raised sprinkler head just off the edge of the porch. He said the one thing that would be most difficult to fix in his absence would be sprinkler heads and he didn't want me to accidentally bump it with the mower and break it off. I did buy and place the ring and I was very careful around that particular sprinkler head. I thought back to his prophetic words that I wouldn't be able to fix the sprinkler system.
For everything else that broke, Wil assured me I could fix it. He was confident I could replace the pond pump, even though I wasn't. He was confident I could change the truck battery, even though I wasn't. But the one thing that Wil doubted my skills about, the sprinkler system, had just broken in my hand. Of course I cried!
But my resolve kicked in. Even though the tears flowed, I dug up that sprinkler head. I turned on the sprinkler to make the pipe fitting pop up. I got soaking wet. My tears mingled with the sprinkler water. I was covered in mud. The hole I dug filled with water and I was trying to grasp a slippery pipe in a mud-filled hole. I managed to get the pipe up a bit.
I trudged back around the house to turn off the sprinkler, clothes dripping, tears flowing, and muddy from head to toe. It's a good thing none of my close neighbors were outside. I know I was a miserable sight. With the sprinkler off, eventually the water in the hole drained away. I managed to manhandle enough of the hose onto the fitting and rescrew the whole pipe assembly back into the sprinkler. I trudged back around the house, turned on the sprinkler again to test everything and make sure the micro-irrigation system was once again watering the plants it should. After one more trip through the sprinkler spray to turn it off, I think I have it fixed enough to last until Wil's return.
But, I couldn't stop crying. I muttered unkind things about the United States Air Force and softly swore terrible oaths to terrorists everywhere. I rinsed off the biggest of the mud with the garden hose. I went in the garage and closed the door and peeled off my wet clothes, still crying. I came inside to shower, still crying. The tears didn't stop until after I was out of the shower.
All of the past few weeks' frustration bubbled up and out of me. All of the sadness and loneliness of missing Wil came rushing up. All of my fears and doubts and worries and stress poured out through my tears. I am calm now as I write about this. I hope I can maintain this as, once again, I connect with Wil on Skype later tonight. The last thing he needs to see is my hysteria when he is too far away to help.
It does help to talk to him. It does help to hear his reassurance and see his confidence in me. However, it is not the same as having his actual shoulder to cry on, having his real arms around me, and having his affection and caring in person. I realize how fortunate I am to have a video and audio connection to him every night. But don't tell me how lucky I am, because it just does not take the place of having him HERE.
I don't want to be a plumber or auto mechanic or electrician. I want my husband back! I want to take him a cold bottle of water while he mows in the heat. I want to stand by the box to turn the sprinkler system on and off for him as he wrestles with pipes and fittings. I want to bake or sew or plant flowers while he takes on the pumps and circuit breakers. I want to admire his skills as he changes the truck battery. I want to be responsible only for womanly skills I excel at.
So, don't tell me how lucky I am that I get to talk to Wil everyday. Don't try to tell me that 3 months is such a short deployment. Nothing will make me happy until I can have my husband home and my life gets back to the way it should be. Only problem is that he won't be home long before Uncle Sam sends him back to the fray and I am left wearing the work pants in the family again. Sigh.
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