Since the last real post...

Steve and I got married - December 8, 2007

I graduated from Louisiana Tech University with a Bachelors in Finance - March 1, 2008

I got my first big girl job at Red River Bank in Alexandria as a Credit Analyst - April 2008

Steve changed careerfields in the Air Force and is now a TACP - Honor Graduate, June 9, 2008

Got a handsome nephew, Gavin Heath Roberts - October 23, 2008

Quit RRB to pursue my marriage by moving to FL where Steve is stationed - December 31, 2008

Got a dog, Izzie (American Bulldog) - February 2009

It's obviously now April 9, 2009...We're getting ready to move back home to Louisiana in May. Steve starts "spin-up" training on June 1 because he's scheduled to go to Afghanistan for 6 months beginning in August. I have no idea what life has in store for me from this point forward. I've decided I'll get back in touch with my Xanga side because I can no longer vent on Facebook or Myspace...because everyone I've ever wanted to vent about is now on either one or both. Now that I know this thing still exists and that I haven't forgotten my password, expect to see more of me.

Why? Because nobody that this is about is on Xanga!

I've had a really rough night. I wrote a pretty generic note on Facebook, but that just didn't do it justice (because I can't mention specifics on Facebook without pissing someone off...and who knows, maybe I'll still piss someone off!)

Steven and I are getting married December 8, 2007. His unit comes up for AEF Rotation (for you non-military, that means a possible Iraq deployment) in January. We didn't want to risk anything, so we decided to move it up.

After Steven finishes all that good stuff (depending on whether or not he goes), he plans on cross-training into a new unit. He wants to be Special Forces, TACP to be exact (Tactical Air Control Party...I can assure you, it's no party). He'll be working hand-in-hand with the Army, calling in air strikes and painting targets. All that good stuff.

This is something he's been talking about for a LONG time, ever since he got back from New Orleans. He already seriously considered once, but he was so worried about how it was going to affect me that he didn't go. Well, this time it's different. I'm the one telling him to go. I want him to do this. Why? If you could hear the way he talks about this, it would put a smile on your face. I don't want him to look back on his life when he's 70 and say, "Man, it would have been really cool if I'd done that." We only get one life, and it's short. He's incredibly passionate about doing this. How do I know?

For those of you that know Steven, you know that he's had dreams of being a fighter pilot since he was just a kid. That was mostly the reason he joined the military in the first place. Do you know what he told me last night? He told me that he would give up being a pilot to be a TACP. He's only said that one other time, and that was for me.

So then if he's so passionate about it, why are people insistent on putting him down? Telling him he shouldn't do it? What kind of support is that? And to think, it's coming from people in his own family (not mentioning any names because I'm not trying to pit anyone against anyone else)! Who does that? I don't know why, well I have my theories, but that's not why I'm writing this.

The thing that gets me the most...they use me as the reason as to why he shouldn't go. I'm the one person that has been so adamant about him doing this (there have been others that are supportive, but not like I am). How could I possibly be the one to hold him back? Especially after hearing how passionate he is about it. "Oh well, you'll be newly married. I don't think it's right." And they just might be right...if I had a different attitude about the military. But I don't. I know what I'm getting myself into. I'm fully prepared for EVERYTHING they can throw at me. Yet, I'm supposed to be a damper on his career? DAMMIT PEOPLE!

Don't give me that. Don't doubt me. Don't doubt him. And most CERTAINLY DON'T doubt us! Grr...I could go on for days, but I'm not. I'm sick, and I'm tired.