THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Wednesday, March 1, 1995 TAG: 9503010504
SECTION: MILITARY NEWS PAGE: A8 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: LETTERS FROM HOME
LENGTH: Medium: 72 lines
Dear B.G.,
I'm having wild fantasies about what it's going to be like when you come home.
It's going to be great to lie in bed in the morning while some other wild-haired sleepy-eyed person gets the munchkin up and cooks her oatmeal.
Can I remember how to make dinnertime conversation - something beyond, ``Sweetie, remember the big fish we saw today? What color was he?. . . That's right. Didn't he have big eyes? Eat your beans.''
What will it be like to go into the bathroom, be able to close the door and stay in there as long as I like? Or to be able to wheel the garbage can to the street sometime other than during ``Sesame Street?'' One Tuesday, I missed the window of opportunity and the can sat in the garage for seven more days.
I'm not alone. I talked to the woman on my phone tree the other day. (She was calling about a lingerie party. I passed. A few cruises ago, a lingerie party held a full two months before the ship was due might have sounded interesting. This time, after dealing with the kidlette by myself all day, the thought of lingerie makes me tired. . . . Were all the party-goers childless?) She said she'd gone from sunup till sunset without talking to another adult except when she said ``thank you'' at the hamburger drive-thru.
Exactly. I've started dialing the time just to hear a grown-up voice.
Our spouses group has been planning plenty of stuff to do lately to help the winter months move along. Group lunch dates, meetings for the homecoming and even a night at a dinner theater. Not everybody's going to everything - people seem to be budgeting their baby sitting money. But there are some pretty desperate spouses.
Early last month, I got a call from a wife across town who was frantically looking for a sitter, evidently willing to drive nearly 20 miles from home to pick one up and bring her back. Funny what you'll do during six months as a single parent.
Sounds like the Pentagon's 1996 budget plan could make us rich. That whopping 2.4 percent increase will really inflate your paycheck - provided we get the munchkin potty-trained and off disposables during the same fiscal year.
My mom and sister came for a week's visit last Thursday. Feel like I've died and gone to heaven. When I came home from work Friday evening, I walked in the back door and someone was stirring dinner on the stove (for once it wasn't macaroni and hot dogs), the table was set, the kitchen smelled good, the munchkin was upstairs singing, having her diaper changed. It was great - I wanted to holler out, ``Honey, I'm home,'' throw a briefcase on the dryer and hang a jacket on the doorknob. No wonder you'd rather be here.
Time's getting short. I've started my ``To Do'' list. I don't know why I do this stuff - never once have you come home from cruise and said, ``Goodness, sweetheart, the windows sure are clean.'' But they're on the list.
I'm thinking about painting the shutters green, but I can't decide if that would be a favor to you or not. On one hand, it would keep you from having to do it. On the other, the house would look different when you get back. Will it be just another reminder that you missed something we did without you?
Stop worrying about your car. It still starts. The bad news is I'm 2,000 miles behind on having the oil in mine changed. Suppose it can wait till April? I had my second flat tire of the cruise two days ago - a cruise record.
Another nail. And, yes, I stood there and watched the guy put the lug nuts back in it just like you'd have done.
Write again soon. The munchkin loves your drawings.
Love, Quiche
P.S. - The French door guy has stopped returning my calls. MEMO: The author is the wife of a crew member aboard the Norfolk-based carrier
Eisenhower, scheduled to be at sea through April. by CNB