Every other time he's been deployed, I've known where he is. He could tell me whether he was out to sea or if he was in port. He could tell me when he was coming in to port and where he would be. He could even tell me how long he was going to be in port.
This time he can tell me none of the above. He can't tell me what's going on aboard the ship. He can't tell me if they're actually going after drug-carrying boats or if they're just sitting out in the middle of the ocean. He can't tell me what they do on a daily basis. He can't tell me where he is, or where he's going to be, or even if he's in port or out to sea.
The only thing he can tell me is what goes on aboard the ship between various people, and let me tell you, it's more drama than a soap opera! His mission in life at the moment is to annoy the crap out of his Division Officer, who apparently deserves it because he's being stupid.
Every so often I try to figure out where he is, and I just can't do it. I know he's somewhere off the western coast of Central and South America, somewhere between Mexico and Cape Horn at the very southernmost tip of Chile. Narrows it down a bit, doesn't it?? My only clue to his whereabouts is what time zone he's in, and I'm surprised he can even tell me that.
It feels so odd because I'm so used to hearing about everything. I'm not one of those Navy wives who wants to have nothing to do with her husband's career. I want to know everything. I want to share everything with him.
The time seems to continue to move along, which is quite nice. It hasn't dragged at all yet. Part of it has been looking forward to Christmas, and then to New Year's. Now I've been invited to a friend's house in Oregon in a few weeks, and I've got Grace signed up for an art class which will take us through April. So we have plenty to keep us busy, and before I know it, Kurt will be home again. YAY!