Me? Blog?

I never in a million years thought I would be a blogger. I had no interest. I had no desire. Suddenly, I find myself wanting to share tidbits of my new life as an Army wife. Why? I don't know. Perhaps no one will ever read my little piece of the net, but at least I will have put it out there.

My husband joined the Army as a Chaplain. I didn't marry an Army man. I married a pastor. Needless to say, it has been an adjustment. However, knowing we are in the will of God is most reassuring. Nothing can go wrong when God is in charge. I feel safe, secure, content. 

Michael, my husband, is stationed at Fort Jackson, SC, for chaplaincy school. He has been here since June 5. My daughter and I moved to Chapin, SC, on June 16. Yes, we are living apart. That has been the biggest adjustment. Thankfully, we live about 40 minutes from the Fort and are able to see him and stay with him.

Victoria and I went to the library on post yesterday. We wanted to check out some books. Since Michael is not permanently stationed at Fort Jackson, I had to bring in a copy of his orders in order to check out books. Victoria and I went back to Michael's apartment, got a copy of his orders, and headed back to the library. This isn't the first time we have needed a copy of his orders. I have decided to keep a copy with me at all times. Next time, I will be prepared.

PX and Commissary...I really didn't know which was which. So, I headed to the PX for the first time to pick up some groceries. Wrong place. The PX is the military "mall" and doesn't sell food. So, I got back in the car and headed to the Commissary. Bingo! The Commissary is the grocery store. I also learned that the bag "boys" expect to be tipped, and the common tip is $.25 a bag. I only bought a few things, went through the self-checkout and didn't need a bag person. So, I didn't have to tip. My question is, if we HAVE to use the baggers and tip them $.25 a bag, what is the point in paying no sales tax? I don't get it.

Michael wanted me to see his group of chaplains get "smoked," as they call it, in PT. So, Victoria and I hung around on Sunday to watch this. We watched them get into their squads and platoons. (I'm finally learning what is what.) Victoria and I waited for the torture to commence. In 25 minutes, all we saw them do was stand at attention, then at ease, then attention, then at ease again. And, the drill sergeant checked their canteens to make sure they had water. All of that in 25 minutes. So, we left. It was boring.

So, those are my first reflections. I'm sure there will be more.