Behind A Serrated Grin

And I promise

On my damned soul

To do as I am told...

-Voltaire, When You're Evil

Feeling unkown, on your own

by the telephone, flesh and bone

Pick up the receiver, I'll make you a believer.

-Vince Clarke, Personal Jesus

And here we are. Cinco de Mayo is tomorrow, the day of Mexican independence. Good call Mexico. My mom is in the hospital recovering from knee surgery, which all reports indicate is going well. I'm glad to hear it, hoping for a quick and full recovery on that one.

Things are moving along on the divorce front, I'm counting down the days to my court date, and from there it's time to get stuff done. I'll be honest, I worry about my kids every day. But I guess that's true of every father. I'm more proud of them than I could ever say, though. They continue to amaze me every day, and I hate being down here and apart from them. But I write letters, and try to keep in touch. They know I'm out here fighting the good fight, or whatever it is I'm supposed to be doing, and they know I care about them.

The rest of the week is stretching out ahead of me, seeming like forever until I get to sleep in. It's the little things that get you through the week, I guess. Actually, I've been doing pretty well getting up on time, and keeping a positive attitude. Maybe it's the new, challenging and more often than not enjoyable morning PT we do, but I'm actually able to wake up in the morning without thinking screw it, what's the point of getting up, apart from the fact that I'm obligated to? Still, given the option I'd rather sleep in, work a regular 9 to 5 job. And, no doubt, have my incredible talents of following orders and getting stuff done go to waste. Well, failing all else it's a steady paycheck. I've found myself feeling kind of separate from the 'civilian world' lately- and maybe that's always the way it is. I guess soldiers aren't really like other people- maybe not exceptional, (if we were there would probably be a lot fewer of us) but dedicated and hardworking.

Everything counts in large amounts, as the song goes. It's not the number of your years, it's how fully you've lived those years. I had this driven home yesterday at funeral detail practice. A Colonel left this world, a decorated hero. I had a talk with my own battalion commander, Col. Cabrey. Like our recently laid to rest friend, he's an officer I have a great deal of respect for. But this Colonel who passed on was by all accounts a great leader, and a decorated veteran. It's hard to have to hear that, even if you never met the guy. I guess he had a full life, and did what he loved and was proud of. Was it the C-rations that did him in? Well, they say old soldiers never die, we just get decommissioned. Signing off for now, dear readers. Have a good weekend!