In the past five years, I’ve been chased out of Texas by a wild buffalo, suffered heat stroke during a sweltering North Carolina summer, and snapped my wrist snowboarding on a mountain in Idaho. And, as Frances “Baby” Houseman would say, I’ve had the time of my life.
When my college sweetheart (now my husband) announced he’d like to join the U.S. Air Force, I knew our lives would never be the same. The last five years have been exciting, terrifying, and altogether unpredictable. We’ve moved three times—from one side of the country to the other—met incredible friends, made memories I wouldn't trade, and have been challenged in many ways.
A few months ago, we were thrown the biggest curveball yet. (Luckily, I played catcher for my middle school softball team.) My husband volunteered for his very first deployment with a fellow fighter squadron. He’s now flying F-15E Strike Eagles high over Afghanistan, together with his lucky fighter pilot mustache, ...
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