My VSC experience today...

[zethris 0]

We'll see what happens. I am one who still gets choaked up when I hear the "Proud to be an American" song. But dogonit if this isn't just the hugest test of faith ever.

[Jersey Girl 2]

But dogonit if this isn't just the hugest test of faith ever.

That's exactly what it is: a test. Of character, strength, faithfulness, sacrifice, perseverance, and even one's beliefs.

I thought this would be a simple summer hiatus. I'd submit forms to a faceless bureauracy and keep myself busy for a few months. Then my husband would come back and we'd pick up where we left off. But no. I was actually signing up for a new kind of stress and seige, where hair turns gray overnight and you contemplate the meaning of life and death.

Ever watch Rescue Me? It's a raunchy drama-comedy series and it's no accident I'm glued, even to the re-runs. It points up how ridiculous our thinking gets when we're going through trauma. Here's my imaginary cameo appearance:

I'm sitting on the bed, surrounded by my honeymoon lingerie. I'm wondering if it will still fit when he finally gets here. Will it be too small because I've been self-medicating with beer? Or too big because I can't cook anything more complicated than lettuce sandwiches? I put the pink panties over my head and start to cry. That's when I see a guy trimming the grass outside.

He looks like an illegal Mexican, so I dive through the window and tackle him to the ground. "Rights!" I scream. "You want your f***ing rights?!" I wrestle away his weed wacker and hold the spinning trimmer close to his crotch. "How about the right to be protected from hormonally challenged women waiting for K3s that never come?!"

But he rolls away, yanking the trimmer with him. "Lady," he says, "calm down. I know how hard it is. I had to wait for my visa, too. Take the underwear off your head and I'll share my lunch with you. It's nothing fancy, just sandwiches and beer."