Today Scott was offered a chance at another job, this one not in Tampa, but at Ft. Campbell, which is on the Tennessee/Kentucky border. So as of this moment I have no idea where we might be moving to in EIGHT MONTHS. I'm sure you know this is absolutely killing me, the not knowing, but also killing me are the little conversations Scott insists on having. Conversations like this:
"You know, the unit I want to go to in Tampa, they also have positions in Qatar."
"Where is Qatar?"
"It's in the middle east."
"Middle east what?"
"No. THE Middle East."
"Huh? So you're saying you may take a job where you move to The Middle East?"
"Well, we would all go. It's an accompanied tour. Families go too."
"Come again?"
"Yeah, we actually have a large American presence over there. It's really safe."
"Well, not THIS American presence."
"Okay, I just thought it would be neat for us and the kids and all."
"Neat? Are you high?"
"Why is your voice all squeaky? Where are you going?"
"To get my pills. TO GET MY PILLS!"
3 comments:
Pills nothing.... I'd need an IV !! Also, You just took at least 5 years off of your Mom and Dad's life expectancy.
I know those conversations. Tim tried to get me to move to a "safe" emabassy job in one of the "something- stan" countries. I said exactly what you did. Alcohol works well too--
I can't imagine that! I bet you were freaking out. I hope he was joking!
I haven't commented in a while but I just wanted to say I love your blog. You're writing style is great and you always give me a chuckle!
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