It’s Gotta Be The Sand

 

While my weird hours leave me almost no time for Husband, they do make it much more convenient for me to chat with Offspring; I’m not staying up for him anymore, if anything he’s staying up for me.

 

Which means I’ve got more info on the life of PFC Squdgee Booboo than I do on your favorite engineer.

 

And I’m sure you won’t be surprised which one is currently experiencing overwhelming job dissatisfaction.

army meme: Jumps out of a perfectly good aircraft with a parachute packed by a 19 year old; forced to wear a reflective belt while raking dirt. (pair of soldiers raking dirt in hi-vis safety belts)

 

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Incoming!

 

Offspring is adapting well to his new environment, in spite of there being little enough to like and less time to notice it.  

 

Of course, as a mommy I don’t enjoy hearing that those beautiful mountains are lobbing rockets at him every goddamned night.

view of mountains from Bagram Air Field, Afghanistan; storm clouds gather and the mountains are dusted with snow

 

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“Reassuring”

 

I would like to address this comment, to which I did not reply directly because I was busy accumulating evidence.

Comment on this blog: "And yet no matter how hard I try and reassure you, you always seem to get more stressed. Maybe I'm doing it wrong? Nah. I can't be wrong."

Yep, that’s him.

 

Now, I saw that comment and had to laugh; that’s my little smartass, doing his level best to make me look like the crazy overprotective mother[1].

 

Which gives me all the excuse I need to tell you just how reassuring he’s been these past weeks since his arrival at Fabulous Bagram, Afghanistan.

 

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First Class Mistake

When last I left you, I was not going to be a sky pirate captain because my husband is a quitter—a died-in-the-wool giver-upper who never supports my dreams.

Angelina Jolie (Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow) in her black uniform and eyepatch, on the deck of her skyship, against a background of clouds and skyscrapers

I’d have had a better hat, though.

I am, as it happens, still not a sky pirate captain.
I am, however, a person who has literally paid for a hotel by the hour, (though I’m sure the good people at Ramada don’t advertise this service) upgraded herself out of the best flight ever, and—because I love you—snapped a photo of the most mockable woman in all of Georgia.
Here’s what happened:

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Snail Male

 

In case you’ve ever wondered what sort of head case I am: when planning for Offspring’s departure I realized we wouldn’t be able to speak on the phone often or at all so letters would be the thing—which has turned out to be true—but then I started overthinking it.  How does one address such a letter?  How often should I write?  What should I write about?

 

Now, I could have brought these questions and concerns to Husband or Offspring, but that would have exposed my inadequacies and, frankly, my level of crazy.  I’m only comfortable showing you my crazy. 

 

So I googled it.

exhausted man at cluttered desk; desk placard identifies him as Google (from "If Google was a guy" videos)

 

Extensively.

 

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