I have been busy since Jar left. A lot of things going on at work, spending last weekend with my sister, and getting ready for a work trip next week hasn't left a lot of spare time to sit around and miss him, which I am thankful for.
I'm finishing up laundry today (exciting, I know), and I think I am finally ready to do the last of Jar's clothes. Well, it is partially that I am ready and partially that I am afraid they will start to mildew and rot in the bathroom floor where they still sit if I don't.
Avajar is making the work trip with me down to Chattanooga. I'm a little worried, because I'll be attending the conference with my entire management chain up to the plant superintendant. As far as I know, they don't read my blog and will have no idea why I'm traveling with a bonsai tree. They do know Jar is deployed so hopefully they won't think too much of it, and I'm traveling there by myself, so hopefully I can sneak in the tree when no one is looking!
In preparation for this conference, I had to round up enough "business casual" clothing to make it through four days. It didn't take me long to realize I had none. I haven't had to wear that style of clothing in a long time because at my current job they provide work uniforms, which is great, unless you are a female of small stature like myself. You see, I work for a utility company that has been largely male dominated for many, many years. OSHA requires us to wear flame retardant clothing, and apparently, that doesn't come in women's sizing. My daily work uniform consists of the following:
1 "blue-collar" blue men's button down shirt that I have to roll the sleeves up on and hope I don't get caught in a heavy wind, or else risk blowing away like a blue flying squirrel.
1 pair of men's high waisted blue jeans, which come up somewhere between my lowest rib and my armpits.
1 pair steel toed boots, which is probably the best thing about the ensemble.
After I started typing this description of my horrible uniform, I realized that this wasn't the worst thing that I (or other people for that matter) have had to wear to work. After all, my first job was at Shakertown, where I wore a dress, apron, bonnet, black old people shoes, and knee high socks. It looked like this, except I was 16 years old and waiting tables, not praying and spinning around:
So once again, I am reminded it can always be worse. My work uniform, my life situation, everything I have could be worse.
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This is even more evident today, on the eve of the ten year anniversary of September 11th. There are 3,400 (+/-) families out there today who are without a husband or wife, a brother or sister, a parent or a child. Ten years ago our nation was viciously and deliberately attacked, our freedom was in jeopardy, and that is why Jar and the thousands of others in the military do what they do.
I had forgotten this. I had felt so sorry for myself and the fact that I would miss him for a little while that I had questioned why he had decided to serve, why our nation was compelled to send our soldiers to the desert so far away.
And then I remembered.
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