Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Wine.Woot may be the death of me...

Every month, sometime around the middle, Wine.Woot has a Woot! Off.  That means they have deals going all day instead of just one big deal.  I used to be a lot more fascinated with Wine.Woot than I am now.  I got hooked on it when we lived in Georgia.  I'd see a boutique wine from California that looked especially tasty and I'd take advantage of Wine.Woot's deal of the day, which meant I'd be getting anywhere from two to twelve bottles of wine delivered at a time.  The FedEx guys got to know me pretty well, both in Georgia and here in North Carolina.

Nowadays, I'm not as into Wine.Woot as I was... and since we have to pack up and move again in a few weeks, I'm even less interested than I was a few months ago.  More wine means more drinking... and more packing.  And we don't need more reasons to drink than we already have.

Last night, my husband came home and asked me how I would feel if he refused the move to Texas if the Army refused to extend him for a couple of months.  I asked him what he would end up doing otherwise.  He said they'd move him to some other job at Fort Bragg.  I suddenly felt myself morphing into the Voice of Reason... much as I hate to admit it.  I said, "Look... we don't want to settle here, do we?"

My husband agreed that we didn't.

Then I said, "We'd have to move regardless, right?  I mean, we don't want to live in this town anymore."

He agreed that we would.

"And San Antonio, Texas is probably going to be a more fertile job market than Fayetteville, North Carolina is...  You can work there or at USAA!  And we'll be near your mom and Texas won't tax your retirement."  I added.

He nodded.

I said, "You're going to be fine.  Moving sucks and we're tired of it, but I don't think you'd be well-served by throwing a wrench in the works now.  It would probably just make you look like an asshole, not just to the National Guard folks, but to the people in Texas who are expecting your arrival in early August.  Granted, you say they are covered with enough people anyway, but you might as well go somewhere where you won't be sitting around with your thumb up your ass, biding your time with busy work until you retire."

Then he started talking about the asshole now retired colonel that got us into this situation.  And when I say the guy was an asshole, I really mean it.  This particular colonel was on track to become a general, but got fired about six weeks before he was due to come home after a year-long deployment in Iraq.  He had abused the Soldiers in his brigade.  My husband had the displeasure of working with this man in Iraq for six months and experienced his abuse firsthand and in concentrated amounts.  He was the asshole colonel's "right hand man" during that deployment, so he was never spared the colonel's undivided attention.

Every week, I'd get a call from him and he would tell me what was going on... and how it reminded him of his life with his ex wife.  I knew it was a pretty bad situation when he told me that.  It really pissed me off that this man was abusing my husband, because war zones are stressful enough without some Machiavellian colonel doing his level best to make things even worse.  I was delighted when I heard that he was later relieved of duty for behaving in the same shitty way he did when he was deployed with my husband.  My husband could have complained about it himself, but complaints about abuse are less effective when they come from just one person.  When they come from hundreds of people in a brigade, the Army is much more likely to listen.  Suffice to say, everything that is described in the article I linked, my husband experienced up close and personal.  And if you could have seen the look on his face when he saw me waiting for him at the Ronald Reagan International Airport that August day in 2007, you would know just how relieved he was to be home and out of that situation.  It was six months of hell.

But the asshole colonel was not content to leave well enough alone once they got home from Iraq.  He started screwing with my husband's career and at about the halfway point of our time in Germany, he got one of his cronies to make a "by name request" for my husband.  That's how he ended up in the job he's in now.  We had to leave Germany a year early so we could live in Georgia for 18 months and North Carolina for a smidgeon over two years.  With each move has come hassle and expense... and missed opportunities.

These moves were supposed to lead to good things... and I guess in some ways, they have.  Like I wrote in yesterday's post, every cloud has its silver lining.  We got Zane the super beagle in Georgia and Bill honed his home brewing skills because we happened to live in an area where good beer and home brewers are plentiful.  We got Arran the coonhound in North Carolina and we were close enough that I could visit my parents a couple of times.  We've also made a few new good friends and visited a couple of old friends... and the job my husband is in has been a relatively good one.  But, the point is, we have had our share of butt hurt over the past few years... Not serious butt hurt, mind you, but enough that we're both feeling a little disenfranchised.  I can't complain too much, I guess.  At least it's a job.

Anyway, by the time I was done talking to my husband, he was smiling again.  Perhaps a couple of Wine.Woot purchases would make him smile more.  But it's probably best if we save the money for the big road trip to Texas and all the expenses that loom as we set up yet another house in another state.


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