The Call

In our house, there is always cause for celebration and despair, whenever "The Call" comes. Happiness, because Bill still has a job. Despair, because he has to go.

Tonight, while I was grilling swordfish and steaming asparagus, (and making an awesome sauce out of pureed red peppers & garlic & balsamic vinegar), the cell phone warbled feebly. I quickly snatched it up, but the signal was lost almost immediately after I heard "is Bill there?" Bill called back on the land line, and sure enough, it was his employer. It was The Call.

They want him back on the USNS Observation Island, probably flying to the Orient on Easter Sunday, April 12. Bill asked if he could push his departure to the 13th, and they'll get back to him tomorrow on that.

Odd numbered years are his "short" years--he will only work 4 1/2 months this year, as opposed to 8 1/2 months last year. When he's at work, that's 12 hours per day, 7 days per week, for at least 120 days at a stretch. We try to rationalize, saying that most people don't have the luxury of spending four months at home for every four months they work. But the truth is, Bill is taking his retirement now, in 4-month chunks.

It's always sad when The Call comes, because our days together are numbered. And there's always a bit of elation, that the bank account will start to increase instead of diminish in the future. Good news, bad news.

It's a weird life, we know. Now we will start making lists of things that absolutely have to be done in the next 8 days. Changing out the UV bulb in the water system; digging up the backyard garden plot; storing the motorcycle; installing the new window in the van. In the midst of this, Kerne and Juli are coming to visit. Bill will most likely leave before they go back to Seattle. That makes it harder for him, easier for me--I will have an easier transition from house-full-of-people to solitude. He will have a truncated time with Juli and Kerne, and it will make him sadder to have to leave in the middle of their visit.

We've done this before, and we'll do it again. For better or worse, this is our lifestyle.