3 and counting
There it is friends: three years in the ol’ service as of today.
Three years ago I was on a plane, traveling through several cities, on my way from Grand Rapids, Mich., to Fort Jackson, S.C.
I didn’t know what to expect. And I suppose I still don’t.
I definitely didn’t picture myself in Iraq in 2006, that’s for sure.
We’re nearing our four-month mark in theater — a milestone of sorts, 33 percent for those keeping score. I try not to, as the day counting starts to make me a little stir crazy.
I’ve been in a bit of a rut lately. I can’t explain it — well, I suppose it might have something to do with being away from home; but I think I’m coming out of it.
I love laying out the newsletter. I guess I like it for the same reasons I loved being a film editor — taking something raw and refining it into a piece of media is what I’m wired to do, I guess. Doing the story-writing thing is great and all, but give me InDesign and some iTunes and I’ll be happy.
There’s a heck of a dust storm ’round here. Since December was so dry (compared to the averages), the winds that picked up last night have stirred up the pot and left us with a biting cold, milky shroud of dust — just dry enough to catch in the back of the throat.
For as much as I’ve enjoyed not being waist-high in mud, I realize that the water shortfall will mean far worse dust storms. It might turn out that mud on the shoes would have been a better choice than dust in the throat.
Well, I’ve wandered around this post enough. I’m off to bed, friends. Tomorrow I start an Akido course, so I can return home and pick on people.
Nice job, “Your Wrangliness!”
I think that should be your new title, and people should bow whilst saying it.
Dude, with all the hype around “Brokeback Mountain”, being associated in any way with cowboys is asking for it. I must stay away.
Yeah… I agree. Perhaps you shouldn’t venture off into hilly places with a pal, and eat pudding. Cuz that’s what gay cowboys do.