Air Force wife

This afternoon David, Mary, and I went to the Air Force Museum again. (David woke up with that need to "drive" an airplane.) As we were wandering around the planes, I felt a kind of affection for them. Yes, affection. I was a little surprised, and then I remembered that I am, indeed, an Air Force wife. I don't often think of myself as an "Air Force wife"--mostly because there are other things that I think shape my identity more (and, also, I was once traumatized by a poem printed in a retirement program).

As an Air Force wife, I feel that I should have certain rights and privileges not afforded to my civilian counterparts. For example,

1. As an Air Force wife, I know that the sign at the Air Force Museum prohibiting food and drink does not apply to me. (But I am discreet with our water and graham crackers.)
2. As an Air Force wife, I should get 2 votes in the November election. (And if I get 2, Army wives should probably get about 12.)

Most of all, I feel that Secretary Gates should consult with me personally on a regular basis. I could give him some advice on, say, the refueler tanker contract, privatized housing, or the fighter-jock culture. So what if all of my information comes from The New York Times and my husband? Those are better sources than our current president uses for his decision-making. Secretary Gates seems like a reasonable, no-nonsense kind of guy, and I think we could get along well. I feel that I am an obvious resource for the Pentagon, and I'm a little surprised I haven't been called yet. Who knows. Maybe I will be the new Secretary of the Air Force, seeing as how things didn't work out so well for the old one.

For now, though, I am an Air Force wife. More specifically, I am an Air Force Civil Engineering Officer's wife, which, as my friend Teresa taught me, is probably more important than the Secretary of the Air Force. But I'll save those explanations for another day because my phone is ringing, and it might be the Pentagon.