Night Life

Two weeks ago, my assigned work study group and I had to brief a couple of colonels on some procedures that I learned at work. On a Saturday. It’s been game on, non-stop for two weeks prior to that, preparing hastily for the presentation. After we gave our briefing, a lady friend, one of Larry’s co-workers, invited me out and about the town of Minot to check out the so-called “night life”. Larry and I had been to a finer restaurant in town here, but other than that I hadn’t seen the usual night spots. Her friend’s band was playing at a local bar, and I love live music, so I agreed. The upstairs of the historic building had high, dark ceilings with rafters, and one-hundred plus year old brick walls. It was extremely noisy with the band, of course, but they were actually all right. The friend was the singer, and she did classic rock covers with her talented back up band, called Dreading Tuesday. Very fun, and it was nice to get out and about with another lady!

After staying for about two hours, Melissa wanted to try a different bar where a gentleman friend she wanted to meet was hanging about. When we arrived, I walked into practically everybody at work having a going away party for a pilot who was leaving until October. My disguise almost worked; I wasn’t recognized by a few people. I don’t wear a flight suit all the time, you know! Anyway, I was less than impressed with the behavior of most of the guys there, and was ready to leave when the bar shut down at one (!). We were invited to an after party, so I reluctantly agreed. Within fifteen minutes of arriving, the hosts had disappeared, leaving the designated drivers alone in the kitchen. Extremely rude. I think I found a passage in a book I am reading that I can very much relate to; it helps me figure things out:

“Katharine Hepburn is a private, private person whose standards of behavior are very high, and she must have felt very much alone a good deal of the time.”

These days, having any standards at all seems to deem them “high”.

After having practically no weekend to mentally prepare for this past week, my flying squadron launched into another full-scale exercise with much preparation and long hours. On Wednesday, we all went to a basement dormitory by the aircraft to wait to be called into the jets for the exercise. We stayed there Wednesday through Sunday afternoon waiting for the call. My first call was to prepare my jet with its weapons from 10pm until 4am. We were the quickest crew!

Tomorrow, I am waking at two-thirty in the morning for a ten hour flight. I am taking a four-day weekend when Larry gets back next Thursday: This schedule is quite literally making me looney!

The wedding is forty-seven days away. It’s hard to believe. Yesterday, I stopped by a wedding shop in town to inquire about a seamstress to fit my dress and it’s the first time I’ve set foot in a wedding shop for my own event to date. It’s an odd feeling, planning a wedding from two-thousand miles away, and everything online. You don’t feel the excitement you would if surrounded by friends and family helping you plan. I haven’t really seen my fiance in four months. I won’t get a bridal shower. It’s just different, I guess. That’s military life.

Behold, my dining room table! The long search has drawn to a close! Now, the search for chairs…

The snow has been melting here in the northern midwest. I had a pile of snow almost nine feet high in my front yard, and upon my return from duties on base, it was melted! It has created lakes across the prairies, and the Canadian geese, dakrats, and robins are back in action.

“Atlantic crossings are romantic happenings. Your world is on that ship for those few days – nothing outside can touch you.”
– Lauren Bacall

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