I always get the worst news in the most casual settings.
Today, we had a squadron picnic on the lawn in front of the Officers' Club. While we kept an eye on my son playing in the "jumpy thing", my husband was chatting with a friend.
This friend happened to mention, "Hey! Did you know that Slick (not his actual call sign, but half the guys around here are named Slick, so let's pretend) just got short notice orders? He's going Command and Staff. Isn't that just like the military. They make you wait and wait, and then all of a sudden they tell you, 'You're late. Be there yesterday!'"
I was only half paying attention as there was some little girl monster tackling my kid in the inflatable house. But I suddenly thought to ask, "Wait. Who's Slick?"
Slick is the husband of my best friend, commonly referred to here in the pages of this blog as CB.
Damn it all to hell. CB is moving. Right away.
I guess it is good news for them, but I'm going to really miss them. And not just for the babysitting services they provide.
We've lived next door to each other for almost four years. That's the longest friendship I've ever had. We cruised together and celebrated holidays together. We were family for each other when our families were far apart.
Damn it again. This is one of the crappy things about being a military wife. And it comes at a time when I'm feeling like I have very few friends anyway.
Oh, and by the way, she doesn't even know about it yet. So, shhhh.