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Dale missed all his favorite New Years Eve traditions this year.  He was unable to participate in the creation of collapsing gingerbread houses and didn’t stand outside on the porch at midnight banging pots and pans and throwing confetti.  He claims that being unable to participate in these traditions wasn’t too upsetting to him, but I missed him none the less.  I had no one to argue with about gingerbread house structure and no one to convince that banging pots and pans really is a lot of fun.  Every year for Christmas, I buy Dale a puzzle.  It is one of those gifts that I really buy for myself.  Sometime after Christmas, we usually start working on it.  We had a puzzle from last year that we had never done, so I brought it up from the basement.  When making a puzzle, I sort the pieces and Dale puts most of the pieces in place.  This year, for the first time in years, I actually did the edge.  The puzzle is a photomosaic of a hot air balloon.  Abby has been a good trouper working on the balloon’s green stripe.  However, I find myself looking at all my sorted pieces thinking:  “It’s just not as much fun when he isn’t here to complete it or, for that matter, to complete us.”

Last Saturday, Josiah was invited to attend a birthday party for a girl in his class.  He would not normally consider such an invitation, but it involved a movie ticket to National Treasure II and free pizza.  He and his buddies (mates) agreed they would all go together thereby making it an acceptable occasion.  The difficult part, of course, was the gift buying.  Abby informed Josiah that the girl liked webkins, and that Josiah could purchase one at Hallmark.  Abby loves Hallmark with all its bric-a brac and girly things.  Josiah was a bit apprehensive when we set out.  We arrived at 0855 and the store opened at 0900.  We sat in the car and began to watch our fellow Hallmark shoppers.  They were all men.  It was the Saturday before Christmas and these men were forced to go out and find a gift for their wives.  My brother-in-law Rich was shopping on Saturday, but had to finish up a few purchases on Christmas Eve.  He didn’t want to break with the tradition of buying the gift and wrapping it on Christmas Eve.  This year, Dale was unable to adhere to this Christmas Eve shopping tradition as a result of his distance away and the speed of the Army postal system.  I received my gift weeks in advance.  I will no longer be able to grumble about him always shopping on Christmas Eve.  Anyway, back to Hallmark…One guy was peering intently in the window with the hopes that he could spot something before hand, so that when the clerk opened the door, he could dash in, purchase it, and make a quick get away.  Another guy, who was clearly military, was walking back and forth not directly in front of the Hallmark as if to fool anyone who happened by that he wasn’t actually waiting to go in.  He threw something away in the rubbish bin down the sidewalk, he wandered around on the street in front, and constantly looked over his shoulder in case a friend happened by to accuse him of Hallmark shopping.  The smart guy stayed in his car and made a quick dash for the door when the clerk finally unlocked it.  Josiah and I went in to join our fellow shoppers.  I began to find various things and hold them up for Josiah to see.  I then noticed a glaze come over his eyes and I thought of Dale.  When in a store like Hallmark, Dale will wander around in a daze.  He can not relate to anything in the store and the choosing becomes a torture to him.  I said to Josiah, “You won’t feel comfortable giving any of these gifts will you?”  He replied, “No.”  To his great relief, I let him escape.  So, down the sidewalk we went to the bookstore where he purchased a day to day calendar and a journal.  He brought the gifts home, wrapped them, and even made a funny card.  When I dropped him off in front of the movie theater, he realized to his dismay that only the birthday girl had arrived.  I left him on the curb and drove away laughing as the dazed look came back over his face.  

My Mother, detecting my sadness as Christmas minus Dale approaches, asked me if there was anything she could do.  “Yes,” I said, “send some chocolates.”  There are certain candies that are a unique part of every family’s Christmas.  We grew up recieving the yearly paper sack filled with an apple, orange, peanuts, and hard candy.  Most years, we shared a box of delicious Cane Lakes Sponge Candy.  Each year I most looked forward to a gift from Jean Demos, a friend of my parents who worked for Fannie May candy in Chicago.  She would send us a box of chocolates.  I’ve been to Switzerland and Belgium and eaten at a fancy chocolate shop in Melbourne, but there is something about a box of Fannie May that always makes me smile.  While my Mom was here for Thanksgiving, I was in the grocery store trying to decide between a box of chocolate from Russell Stovers or Whitmans.  My Mom said to get the Russell Stovers.  I replied that she had always bought Whitmans.  She said that was my Father’s favorite not hers.  Her Mother had always eaten Russell Stovers and she liked it better.  It’s only taken her 65 years to admit it.  When the box of Fannie May chocolates arrived, Zeke helped me open it and then ran through the house yelling, “Everyone! Chocolates!”  There was a thunder of feet behind him.  Zeke grabbed the white chocolate covered truffle and liked it so much, he went to take the other.  Gabe happily ate the lemon filled chocoate and Abby, Josiah, and I divided out the caramels.  Dale wasn’t here, so I ate his milk chocolate covered caramel for him.  The traditional Manry candy is Peanut Butter Fudge and I am quite certain that is what my husband is missing most.  His Mama used to pour out the Peanut Butter Fudge on to two buttered plates, one for the kids and one for Dale’s Daddy.  After Dale joined the Army, he came home on leave and discovered that he was now given the honor of a plate of Peanut Butter Fudge to himself.  Boy did Tommy John complain about that injustice.  Now that we are married, our kids combine his love of peanut butter and my love of chocolate every time they eat their pancakes.  Genetics is funny that way.

While I love changing jobs and locations every couple of years, I can’t stand the physical process of moving. Mugs can tell you how I try to avoid having to be there on the days the movers are putting boxes on the truck or taking boxes off the truck. To me, it’s a very painful experience. I was able to avoid it this year by deploying to Iraq. So Mugs, once again, got to unpack all of our worldly goods. Abby sent me a Christmas ornament that depicts how I feel about moving.

For the past couple of months, a contractor has been building a new camp for MAO. The old MAO facility is located on FOB Diamondback. This location happens to be in the flood plain for the Tigris River. You may have heard the Mosul Dam mentioned in the news. If that dam were to collapse, FOB Diamondback could be underwater, along with many other parts of Mosul. Just across the street from FOB Diamondback is FOB Marez. As you drive out of the gate from FOB Diamondback, cross the street, and drive on to FOB Marez, you start going up hill. The new MAO location on FOB Marez is above the high water line in the event of a flood.

Construction is complete on the new camp, so for the past two days, we’ve been in the process of moving. One day was devoted to office trailers, while the other day was for living trailers. These living trailers are also called CHUs (pronounced “chews”), which stands for containerized housing units. So of course, I procrastinated as much as feasibly possible. On day 1, I woke up at about 0630, got ready, drank some coffee, boxed up my office stuff, and loaded it into my truck. The contractor was responsible for moving the office furniture. So once we cleared out, they began loading things into a connex, which was loaded onto the back of a flatbed for transport to FOB Diamondback.

Robert, the USACE logistics specialist in MAO, was overseeing the contractor for this move. Just picture a crew of about 10 guys grabbing things from numerous trailers and packing it all into a connex. At one point, the contractors brought a couch out and set it on the sidewalk. It gave Robert and me a nice comfortable seat to watch the contractor’s crane operator load the connexes onto the flatbed. I had never seen the couch before and mentioned that to Robert. It’s amazing the things you find when you move.

We spent the rest of the day getting all of the furniture moved into the appropriate offices and arranged. While this was happening, Jeremy was working on reestablishing our communications links. Our internet and phone service is provided through a satellite system. So Jeremy, along with Vickie and Nate (USACE IT folks from other locations) had fun aligning our satellite receiver. I think they were having fun, but they weren’t laughing or smiling.

Anyway, Day 2 was dedicated to moving the living CHUs. So once again, I waited until the morning of the move to throw my stuff in some duffel bags and put it in my truck. Extra sleep and coffee are much more important than preparing for moving! It’s the end of Day 2 now and this is what my new office looks like.

Of course when Mugs prepares for a move, she always purges. As you can see, the purge didn’t happen. You can’t see it from the picture, but just to the right is a blue couch that somehow ended up in my office at the end of the move!

December 3rd was my 41st birthday.  A year ago, I was at the Botanic Gardens in Canberra with our Aussie friends celebrating my 40th.  Most of the time was spent watching all of our children attempt to fall into the pond nearby.  Raffe was the only one who succeeded.  It was a beautiful day and a fun time and I even spotted a fairy wren flying in the bushes.  This year, I had my cake a week early when my family was here for Thanksgiving.  Abby made me eggs for breakfast and I opened my gifts in the morning.  Dale wasn’t here to take the kids shopping at Walmart for my gifts.  Dale believes all good things come from Walmart.  I, however, do not believe in that mantra when it comes to my birthday presents.  Not wanting to veer too far from their pattern of gift shopping, the kids shopped for my birthday gifts at the home improvement store.  Last week, we had to stop there to get rakes and gloves for Abby and Josiah’s rake-a-thon and it seemed as good a place as any.  When we walked in, they were caught up momentarily in the over the top Holly Jolly Winter Wonderland.  Eventually, after pushing the buttons of every obnoxious Christmas decoration in the store, they chose my gifts.  They kept them hidden from me and paid for them with their allowance (pocket money).  We made it out of the store and into the car without my seeing the gifts.  However, Gabe made the mistake of placing his gift next to Zeke.  While we were loading up I heard Zeke say, “What’s this?  Oh a pretty plant!  Nice and green leaves!”  Keeping gifts a secret is near impossible in this family.  Dale sent me a lovely silver necklace with matching earrings from Iraq.  He told me that the cost of it was determined by the shop owner weighing the jewelry on a scale and calculating the cost based on the current price of silver.  The shop owner used a calculator to show the price of the jewelry just like they do in Korea.  Here’s hoping my necklace is actually silver, just like I hope my bracelets really are jade.  I spent part of my birthday at the bookstore with Zeke.  The entire time there, he tried to convice me that it was not about me.  “Not your books, Mommy.  Zeke’s books!”  Then off he’d walk towards the children’s section.  For dinner,  the kids and I went out to a Japanese steakhouse.  I figured that flames and knives would keep Zeke occupied long enough for me to eat a hot meal.  I had forgotten to warn the kids that the hostess would seat strangers at our table.  Five guys who looked like they had just gotten off the job site came and joined us.  What do you do in that situation?  Other than a polite hello and goodbye, are you supposed to talk to the other people at the table?  With Dale deployed and me alone with four kids, it didn’t seem like a good group to chit chat with.  Every time I go into one of those restarants, I don’t know what to do.  When the waitress came out banging a drum and carrying a small cake, we were all forced to interact.  The construction crew got to sing Happy Birthday to me.  After dinner, the kids and I had planned to stop at a good dessert place, but were sad to discover that it was not open on Mondays.  Gabe was extremely disappointed, so I agreed to try and find somewhere else to go.  I made the decision to go to Bob Evans.  This was a bad decision.  The only good thing to say about the place was that the kids got cool bendy straws with their water.  Dale claims he’ll be here for my next birthday.  I hope he is.  It will make me thankful for gifts from Walmart and dessert at Bob Evans.  Well, maybe not the dessert at Bob Evans.