You do the Hokey Pokey and you turn yourself around.

As a young'un, I served as an Air Force brat (a child of a nomadic (military) subculture). My family moved around quite a lot, leaving room for many schools and many goodbyes to many good friends along the way. Fast forward a few years, and I'm now the wife of an Air Force Officer. The view from up here is different, the moving however, still a vital part of the life. It goes without saying, I'm no longer in grade school. I can no longer meet friends at recess. Well, I suppose I could try, but will venture to guess this feeble attempt would be quickly followed by a police escort off the premises. Simply put, it's not easy being an adult.

As previously mentioned, facebook wives groups have given me virtual friends - many of which are the spouses of. Candidly speaking, several of these virtual friendships are probably not the same friends I would have selected on the schoolyard. No offense to anyone, but I can't relate to staying home, raising kids, and living to cook for my husband as he arrives from a long day's work. I can't relate to blogging about my favorite recipes and how these same recipes can be great 2nd day microwavable winners for my said husband's lunch. I can't relate to the life getting sucked out of me attending coffee gatherings, chatter surrounding military life. Quite frankly, I can't relate to wearing my husband's rank on my OWN sleeve and living in the shadow of his career choice. Although I AM a support system to my husband's selfless job, I am NOT solely an Air Force Officer's Wife. On the contrary, I am an individual with my very own daily dreams, wants, desires, and shocker alert*, I am my own person living in a civilian world too.

It's sort of like having one foot in and the other out. My left foot supports my husband, with love for this country like no other patriot, while my right foot, continues to live in civies (regular street clothing) in good ol' Americana-ville. And since we're talking left and right, I can, and do, still stand for the same platform I've always stood for, despite what some in these circles believe. Staying true to this post though, back to the point: I'm grateful for the freedom my husband fights for, and am thankful this very same freedom gives me the choice to not live exclusively suffocated by this AFB (refer to previous post). I mean come on people, it's not me who's fighting the fight and flying with both feet on that plane. I just shop at Target like the rest of us and fly commercial, searching dubiously for the cheapest expedia.com deal. The only difference here, I receive the military discount.

Guilty.As.Charged.

unCONVENTIONAL Fakebook.

Social networking is not that real. Living in a new city and in, what I will continue to refer to as the "Air Force Bubble" (AFB), is a puzzle and at the moment, the pieces are still very much scattered about. I'll put it together eventually, or so I hope. Meanwhile, I can't help but be perplexed by the several online 'groups' that are meant to bring Officer's wives together. Problem is, we're not meeting in the flesh and nobody appears to be suggesting we meet in person. I'd consider myself a "go-getter" and have no issue taking the lead, but if I'm honest, I'm hesitant to take the lead on suggesting we meet up outside of fakebook. Fakebook is very real interaction and very real connection for some people. I don't know if I'd be making some women uneasy by saying we should exchange pheromones (wait...put in that way, it could potentially freak a few out!) More than ever, I'm finding social networking such a strange phenomenon. I'd be a fool to say it doesn't serve a purpose because it certainly does. In my case, it's a great tool to coordinate social circles, but it shouldn't stop there.

I suppose I'll sit in this authentic blog world and decide if I shall invite the faces in cyberworld to a coffee clutch. Until then, I'll enjoy solitude and lonerville a little while longer.

Bottom line: When did facebook become the conventional norm?

Wisdom teeth pulling. Bad wife.

My husband got them pulled today. He walked in looking like a chipmunk and I laughed. Then I realized I should be a 'good wife' and not laugh at him. He didn't appear amused and so, this blog entry.

I'm not that great of a wife, in the traditional sense, I mean. I'm no June Cleaver, nor am I Betty Crocker. I don't exactly dote on my husband, and I'm neither meek nor am I subservient. I am however, a strong woman who supports this man 100%. When he doubts himself, I don't let him. When he questions decisions, I don't allow for it. A pastor once called me the female Barnabas - the apostle/son of encouragement (translated "Bas"nabas - daughter of encouragement). I do proclaim to be an encourager by nature and am my husband's biggest supporter, which I believe is what makes our relationship ours. We support each other and understand one another, and fully accept who we are as individuals. Together, we make a solid team.

As I begin this Air Force Officer's wife journey, I can't help but question "what makes a good wife?" There's underlying strangeness in this bubble, of which I can't put my finger on quite just yet. Perhaps it really does just come down to my own insecurities. Besides, it's only been a few months of living this lifestyle, who am I to fully judge? My experienced vague weirdness though, although undefined, is probably why I've come to question if I'm doing things "right." Thus, the ponderings above. Thank goodness my husband doesn't expect traditional womanly roles from me. And he really shouldn't. He married me for me. My friends and family would never define me as a Stepford Wife, but more importantly, they'd categorically say I'm no 'sell out'. So why would I sell myself short and be a shell of who I am to prove that I'm a good wife? Who am I trying to prove anyway? I think Basnabus works for the both of us and although I'm no Martha Stewart, I certainly aim to be a Million Dollar Decorator. I love a fabulous throw pillow and can accessorize like no other.