My Pee is Clear

Gah, it's only Wednesday. I've been a day ahead since Monday because Monday felt like two days. Pure insanity. Weee. It's gotten better I suppose, but tomorrow's April Fool's. What dirty tricks will the universe play on me tomorrow?! Noooooooo.....

Ah well. It fits right in with the rest of the week. Monday was nuts, but I still worked out afterward. It was a good work out too. Old school. The old stuff I used to do was coming more easily. Hell yeah. Then yesterday after work I had the joy of driving all the way to post for a key caller training for two hours in a building with no air movement at 80 degrees. The heat combined with the fact that I've already been a key caller for a year or more and was still having to work with a partner to answer questions like "What does being a key caller mean?" almost made me lose my mind. The good part was that Joe's commander was there. Since my grandpa died on 3/22, I've been working with the FRG/Company to send a message to Joe because we allegedly don't utilize the Red Cross because we're more "specialized," though that was disputed last night. So anyway, the commander called me last Thursday 3/25 to let me know the message had been sent and that they were waiting on confirmation from the training brigade that Joe got the message. Then I heard nothing until yesterday when I got a letter from Joe dated Friday 3/26, and in it he asked "How's your grandpa?" The math is this: Joe can write me a letter from the middle of the woods and have it get to me in four days, but in over a week of trying to get a message to him, I can't. And I told his commander this and that I was just going to write him a letter myself and let him know. With all that, he told me he'd have an answer for me today and call me. He never did. And that's fine. We knew Pop was going to die, but if this were an Oma situation all over again, I would have gone to the woods and found Joe myself. HE'S IN FT. BENNING FOR GOD'S SAKE. There's just no fucking excuse for this shit, but I've been nice because my husband is a fucking 2.5 year running Spec 4 and I can't raise hell the way I'd like to. I really had faith in these people and believed them when they told me we were important.

The good stuff is that my husband, after doing all kinds of crazy shit in the preceding days including a 16 mile ruck march in which he fell asleep while rucking due to being so sleep deprived, he still managed to write me a letter and ask how I'm doing. And he told me he misses me and that this was the hardest time he's had leaving me so far. How he wants to quit to be home with me but won't quit because I'm also his inspiration to keep going. And how he's thinking good thoughts for me and asking I do the same for him. (Enter: happy tears.) Damn, I have a good husband. When I saw that letter in the mailbox, I squealed and was right back in Madison, MS in 2007 racing to my aunt's mailbox to see if there was anything from Joe while he was at Basic. If there was, I'd then go hide in a quiet place where I could focus on what I was reading and hang on every word without distraction. Better than Christmas. Of course though I'll now be willing a letter to be in the box every day from now until his graduation. :-) I'm okay with that.

So that brings us to today. I worked of course. Nothing too crazy. And then I worked out afterward. I feel good. My goal is 3 days a week, so I'll hit it this Friday again. Since I work the weekend and can't leave the pups locked up forever, we'll have our own workout walking in the neighborhood. That reminds me some dude walking his 80 lb boxer-pit mix thing saw Dex today and was like "OH MY GOD HE'S BIG. WHAT IS HE LIKE 90-100LBS?" I told him I didn't know, but in my head I was thinking that Dex was probably still only in the 70's (lbs) - maybe 80. The bottom line is that if some dude with a big dog himself thinks I have an even bigger dog, then I'm safe. Go Dex.