Nikkilooch

This has been my week so far.

Everything is out of our apartment and in 7 crates on their way to Germany.

Hopefully I didn’t forget anything.  I have my passport.  Anything else can wait 6 weeks.

I packed way too many socks and 1 pair of jeans.

So maybe I will go jeans shopping this weekend.  Or maybe I’ll make something tasty instead.

I wanted to share a few photos from the change of command last week.  I didn't realize how much gray I've gotten in my hair until I saw these back of my head pictures.

See the full gallery on Posterous

In 2009 my husband took command of a forward support company here in Italy.  

Can I be real with you folks for a minute?

When am I ever not real with you?  But that’s besides the point.

I do not get excited about military functions.  Usually there’s a lot of ma’ams and sirs and stand, sit, stand, salute.  I’m a down home kinda girl.  I’d much rather have everyone over for dinner than worry about if my dress is fancy enough or if I waited to let my husband introduce me in a receiving line rather than introducing myself.

I’m an army wife.  If I can take care of myself during deployments I can certainly introduce myself.  Duh.

But readers, I promised I would keep it real.  And the real truth of it is, I had a good time.  A really good time.

Since we’re keeping it real I feel obligated to tell you: I also had 4 glasses of wine.

xo, nikki

There’s something different around here.

There are man things around.

Piles of man things.

I’m really happy about it.

I don’t talk about being an Army wife or an Air Force brat a lot on this blog.  I’m not sure why because the former certainly affects my life in a gargantuan way.

My father served as a pilot in the United States Air Force for 20 years.  He retired when I was just a kid but you can tell he’s a military man.  On clear days with blue skies he still says to me, “Today would be such a good day to fly.”

My grandfather, who unfortunately I don’t have any digital pictures of, served in the United States Army during World War II.  He fought in France along side his bother, my great uncle, who didn’t make it home.  My father is named after this uncle.  My grandfather died when he was 87.

My husband is an officer in the United States Army.  He’s currently serving a 12 month deployment in Afghanistan.

Side note: He’s coming home so soon!  Hopefully in the next few weeks I’ll have the welcome home photos for you.  Squeal!

I wish I was close enough to one of my favorite vets to give them a squeeze today and say thank you in person.

Happy Veterans Day.

Cecilia’s been gone since Thursday to London to visit her cousin.

I’m having serious withdraws.

She’s going to be moving back to the States with her husband a month before my husband gets home.  I’ve already started planning how I’m going to keep my nights full while she’s gone: local Italian classes, more running, more devotion to my schoolwork.

A few weeks ago I was talking to my husband about it on the phone and started to get choked up.  He said, “Seriously, Nikki?  I’ll be home a month after that.  That’s nothing.”  I whimpered a pathetic I know type noise.  ”I feel like,” he continued, “you’re going to miss her more than you miss me.”

“You’re coming back!  She’s leaving for good!”

Little army wife tip: Don’t tell your husband while he’s in Afghanistan (Iraq, Germany, Kuwait, insert your chosen deployment place here) that you miss your friends more than you miss him.  It tends not to go over so well.

She’ll be home tonight.  Hopefully she misses the shuttle from the airport to post so I can pick her up.

I don’t talk very much on here about being an army wife.  Even though it’s a big part of my life (huge actually) it’s not one of the things I use to define myself.  Christian? yes.  Student? yes.  Southerner? yes. Reader? yes.  Writer? most of the time.  Army wife? not really.

I’m not sure if it’s the bad connotations that are attached to the stero-typical army wife or if it’s that I have enough of being identified as my husband’s wife in my non-blog life.  Either way, one thing that I do love about being an army wife are the deep friendships that are made.  I don’t have family within 4,000 miles of here and don’t speak the language well enough yet to feel completely comfortable.  Added by the fact that if I did have an emergency my family would have to use a passport to get to me.  My husband is gone 80% of the time.  I’m alone in the truest sense of the word.

Enter Cecilia.

I was going to prepare a celebratory post for being half-way through this deployment. Only 6 more months (give or take) to go.

But then Margo’s husband died yesterday in Afghanistan. I know people die in this war every day and that is tragic. There’s something different about it though when you go to that person’s promotion ceremony from Major to Lt. Col. and when you saw that person dressed up for Halloween as a football coach (Margo was a football player) and when you cared for that person’s child at the center where you work. You hurt pretty bad for someone when you were in thier Bible study class on marriage, which Margo was really qualified to teach since she and Tom have been married over 20 years.

Had been married.

That’s hard to get used to.

Margo and Tom have two beautiful daughters. Please keep Margo and the girls in your prayers.

Posts had just gotten back to a regular rhythm, but they are about to be interrupted by this guy. My husband is coming home for R&R today!