I saw the Armywives tv show the other night. Actually, I have watched it faithfully since it aired on Lifetime several weeks ago. It's the wierdest thing to get so enthralled in that show and after an hour shut off the tv, look around, and realize that I'm still living the life.

The episode the other night involved one of the little kids bringing home a neighbor boy who said his father had died in war. Just days before that episode, my daughter befriended a little kid visiting the new neighbors next door and when my daughter came home she told me that her new friend's dad had been blown up in Iraq and that they no longer live on post because he died. I think my jaw dropped or something. I know it happens, as much as I don't want to think about it, but we are meeting more and more wives and children who have lost thier precious husbands and fathers. My heart sinks each time.

So my turn has come up again to truly experience this thing called armywife life. My husband has successfully switched his MOS to become a combat medic and will be away for training, only to turn around and join his unit who by then will be in Iraq. He will be gone for almost eighteen months total. I have it easier than many wives because I will visit him a couple days every month for the next few months until he deploys, so at least I have that much. I switch from moments of anger and despair, to pride and happiness knowing that he will be doing what he wants to do again. Ironically, my good friend's husband is searching for a unit to deploy with because though she doesn't quite understand why, he wants to go back to Iraq. Maybe we will be in this together.

I watched Breakfast at Tiffany's today... cried a little at the ending because Holly Golightly got back out of that taxi and ran in the rain to find her cat. Of course I was happy that she also went back for the guy, but the cat. She went back for the cat. Now that was a good story.

I made some savory stuffed mushrooms and very tall cheeseburgers as well. I didn't even flinch as I ate all of it. Every last bite. All the tomatoes, pickles, onions and sharp cheddar cheese I could possibly fit onto that poor little burger, topped with a round little bun. It was quite a treat. What else was I to do? The rain has been pouring so heavy lately that I can barely even see if I drive and the surrounding grayness is like a permeating fog. This state is literally the color gray everywhere I look. So I took full advantage of the rain and watched a dvd that has been sitting, unopened, on my shelf of dvd's just waiting for days like this one. Up next: A BBC Jane Austen movie. Or two.

The other day I witnessed the Rally for the Troops as a few thousand or so motorcyclists rode in a long line up the freeway in support of our soldiers. It was more accidental, really. I drove right onto I-5, mixing in with the bikers as they rode past the post. After I realized it was the biker Rally for the Troops, I came back and stood up on Freedom bridge for a few minutes with the infamous bridge people, as they cheered and waved flags, to watch the rare sight of so many bikes being rode together.

I've always appreciated the people who stand out on that bridge every Saturday morning, rain or shine, waving flags and encouraging excitement . I wanted to participate with them someday- at least once I've hoped, before we get stationed elsewhere. Though it has crossed my mind before to grab some girlfriends and throw on red, white, and blue bikinis while we waved from the bridge, I knew that wouldn't be very appropriate behavior for armywives (should probably just leave that one for the USO.) Instead, I threw on my black Harley Davidson boots in support of the bikers, and watched as they supported our soldiers.

It was a rush, I admit, with all the motorcyclists reving thier engines and the riders waving as they rode beneath the bridge. Many bikers had on patriotic attire, complimenting thier regular black leather, while others wore regular everyday clothes, and some proudly flew flags from the back of thier bikes.

Numerous cars on the freeway honked and the drivers cheered once they realized what the commotion was all about. One driver of a big rig proudly held his Vietnam Veteran hat out the window and smiled wide, as though he were finally getting the recognition he has always deserved.

Many soldiers participated as well, riding thier beloved bikes and dressed in thier ACU's, or wearing cool leather jackets with the word ARMY sprawled across thier backs. I was thrilled to see the support poured out by so many people as they drove past. While some drivers waved meekly from thier steering wheel, others were loud and proud. Many children had fun, smiling as they realized they now had an excuse to stick thier hands out of the moving car windows.

I waved back to the cars and motorcyclists, switching arms as necessary. I always thought it was mostly army families who waved and honked from thier cars to the supporters on the bridge but surprisingly, the majority of honks came from civilian cars just passing through, showing thier support for the troops.

There were many dual-fingered peace symbols tossed our way, and one car drove by as the driver yelled, "Down with Bush, Down with Bush!" But we ignored him. We weren't there to worry about politics, just the beautiful fact that many people do indeed still support our soldiers. It was rejuvenating for me knowing that maybe people are still aware of, and care even, that our soldiers are at war.

I took the my girls swimming, trying to beat the mini heat wave we've been having the past couple of days. 90 degrees is a very big deal around here. The family swimming pool on post is not typically crowded, but it sure was today. This time I decided against swimming myself and sat up on the benches like many mommies do, out of fear of getting hit in the head by some kid doing a belly flop, or possibly swimming into a potty filled warm spot. Just never know what could happen with so many kids. At least the pool isn't shut down for the whole summer like it was a couple years ago. Some kid had pooped in it and the rest of us were just shit out of luck.

Despite all my friends who have moved away, new ones always manage to move in. My husband became friends with a soldier during a temporary job months ago and I met his wife soon after. She has the widest smile and a laugh to match, and we can talk about anything for hours. Last night we went for a long walk in the dark, ran through sprinklers, and talked about everything from the constellations in the sky, to our current goals, to strip poker. We dodged the misquitos and ran past the shadowed fields. It felt nice to be a kid again. I miss the carefree days when best friends and long hot summers were all that mattered.

My newest neighbor gives me hope as well. Her husband was wounded in Iraq and came home early. Though they have alot to deal with right now, his recovery and readjustment, she seems to be very friendly. She has never dealt with any of this before and it is something I can talk with her about since we were in thier position awhile back. This is the part I like about this life, the sharing and the friendships. Leave these gates and it's hard to find someone else who has been in these shoes, but here most everyone has experienced war and the effects of it. If they haven't, they soon will.

There is nothing more frustrating than knowing a free pre-viewing of the new Harry Potter movie will be showing here on post in two hours and I do not have tickets. I was told there would be a separate line for people who don't have tickets, if there is any room left. That's a big if. Two hours ago the line of ticket holders reached clear around the building.

Summer is driving me crazy, but I do love the weather. We are actually getting sunshine and heat in the high 80's (for a few days anyway) but with children running around bored and cranky, and with my life on hold until the fall, I have started counting the days down until September.

Excuse me as I wipe down this keyboard. Sticky fingers were all over it.

The other day I watched the fireworks here on post. Beautiful as usual. Fort Lewis always goes all out for the fourth of July. Big celebration all day with civilians coming in by the bus loads, booths and entertainment abound, even a carnival for the kids. Every year I stop by the enlisted spouses booth to buy something to show my support, even if I did just spend two bucks on some ice cream this time.

Later my husband and I had some friends over for a BBQ and they brought fireworks for after the show. We had the neighbors watching with us until midnight and with every explosion in the sky, I knew it was like a personal invitation for the MPs to show up. Eventually they drove past and I know they saw us, but they never stopped to spoil the fun. Good boys.

During the fireworks show at the stadium, we sat on the crowded track, lounging on an old quilt and lawn chairs, along with half of Washington's population. After wasting money on deep fat fried twinkies and sour lemonade, the show began. I tried to listen to the familiar tunes of Toby Keith in the background as he sang of America kicking ass, and to Lee Greenwood's pledge to never forget the men who have died for our country. I tried to feel the excitement so many others felt as they cheered with each thunderous burst in the sky, or ooohed and ahhhed with every cannon shot off by the soldiers up front.

I tried.

Instead I found myself thinking about the soldiers in Iraq. The true Americans who wear the uniform and who swore to do thier job, no matter what it may entail. My mind drifted to them and to that very moment in time that I knew we shared, me and the whole Fort Lewis population sitting there underneath the darkened skies, and the soldiers who left us to go to that God forsaken country.

I wondered what they were experiencing at that moment so far away, as I sat safely on this army post here on American soil. I said a quiet prayer for them, that no more would die, as far fetched as that may have been.

I felt the tears in my eyes and knew that this year it wasn't for the pride I have for my country, or for the gratitude I typically feel for my freedom. Instead, it was for the soldiers over there, missing the peace and safety offered in this country that I and so many others take for granted. It was for the ones who have died and for the ones who may still. It was for the soldiers, just people like me and you, who are doing what they have to do to come home to thier families.

It was my plea to God to just be with each one of them until he brings them safely home to us, where they belong.