The Great Pumpkin

So, another interesting divergence of viewpoints on holidays. This time, though, it's more a funny story about my next door neighbor (whom I know does not read the blog--she has dialup) than a diatribe about the raising of children.

Due to an ongoing renovation project, a continual shifting of families from their [old] house to a [still old but nicely resurfaced] new house is taking place within my immediate neighborhood of about 60 homes. My neighbor and I are in Phase Eight homes, which means we'll be moved into resurfaced homes in October. (Phase One households were supposed to get their resurfaced homes by July 31st, though, and it didn't happen. I'm personally not holding my breath for October.)

Anyhow. For reasons which continue to cramp my drinking style (this is funny if you know me) and my fashion options (this is funnier if you've seen me in the last month), I am not excessively thrilled by the prospect of moving "sometime in October." Especially since I'll have a spouse in the field during most of the month. Moves, even moves financed, boxed, carried, and unboxed by the government, are things which one hesitates to do while nine months pregnant. I am not happy about moving in October, and I religiously waddle down to the housing office once a month to (a) let them see me waddle and, (b) find out if "sometime" has been narrowed down a bit. It never has, but I usually walk away thinking that it could be worse. I could be having twins. My housing lady is apologetic, but more or less useless. Things will not change, they will only continue to change on a weekly basis (this is funny if you know anything about the military).

My neighbor, on the other hand, is no tame woman. She's a steely-eyed sailor-swearing she-man. (Whom I like, kinda, in a keep-your-distance kind of way.) As I relayed the scuttlebut from most recent waddle, she became steelier eyed. She glinted. She tossed her mane and dragged a hoof across the linoleum menacingly.

"You know," she said, "I'm going to have to get myself down there and talk to those people. I mean, if I have to get in her boss's face and get serious with him, well then I'll do that, too, but she has got to understand. Being told we're moving 'sometime' in October just does not work! I mean, I have a child! I am NOT about to ask him to be moving the week of Halloween! No, I am not. No, there are things that have to be done that week, things that I re-fuse to have screwed up by their stupid moving schedule!"

Location, location, location.