Choices, choices.

It's that time again. CPT Dick's time is just about up here with his unit and it's time to figure out where we're going next. We've been here over 3 years and it's time to see what else is out there.

To be honest, the whole process kind of just makes me nervous. Because they ask for preferences but, you know, I can't help but feel that having these "choices" are just a ruse of sorts. I mean, there are thousands of guys in the Army. There's just no way to give everyone their first choice. And with this war, there are many places that are in dire need of certain MOS'. And those needs come first.

So I do understand that they are going to send my husband wherever they need him. And they're going to cut him orders when they get around to it. So while I'm here dreaming of Fort X or Fort Y and starting our move in May, the powers that be may very well be planning our family's move to our least favorite base or, perhaps worse, a trip for my husband straight to the desert. And who knows when they'll actually get around to telling us. I need to prepare for the worst possible scenario.

And I understand that. I totally do. But I'm still thinking about how great it will be if we get our first choice and how nice it would be in the spring. And then I slap myself hard to try to snap out of the reverie. If we get what we want, great. But if we don't, I can make do.

But still, I wish they'd figure it all out and cut his orders already. Then I can just make peace with whatever they've decided and get to packing.