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The previous owners kindly left a bird house hanging off my back porch awning and I have a direct view of it from my kitchen window.  Two wrens began padding their nest and worked diligently for days getting it just right.  A few weeks later, I walked out on to the back porch to hear the little cheep cheeps of baby birds.  I have been observing the parents endless trips to bring their hungry children food.  Their task may be more labor intensive than mine, but after 15 days they throw their children out of the house.  For me, the feeding routine lasts 18 years for each.  Two days ago, I looked out the window and saw the black neighborhood cat standing on the porch railing and reaching for the house.  I flew out the door like a mad woman, yelling and chasing her off.  We had previously been on good terms and I often requested that if she was going to wander about my yard, she could have the courtesy to kill a few moles.  I watched her stalk a mole once, but she didn’t kill it.  I read online that cats do not like to eat moles.  They taste bad.  I then decided that I must now take some action to keep her off of the porch railing.  I read online that cats won’t jump on things if they are wrapped in tinfoil.  So, I went outside and wrapped my porch railing in tinfoil.  I was then on cat watch and constantly looked out the window to ensure my defenses were in place and prepared myself to chase off all cat threats.  There are actually 2 black neighborhood cats.  They are both solid black with golden eyes.  One is fat, one is skinny.  So, when I saw her fat brother sitting under my bird feeder, I charged out the door yelling, “Get out of here! Get out of here!  Leave my birds alone!”  He ran off and I was feeling quite pleased when I looked up to discover my neighbors sitting on their back patio.  All of a sudden it dawned on me…Not only do I have my back porch railing wrapped in tinfoil, but I periodically come running out of the house like a nutcase.  “She’s mad,” I say, “Stark raving mad!”  I slunk back into the house.  The next day, I walked out on my front porch to discover a lovely dead mouse, freshly killed, and left neatly for me.  A peace offering.  Being a cat person, I couldn’t help but feel touched.  Our barn cat in Germany, Fruhliche would bring all kinds of things to me as a gift: whole dead mice, mice with their heads decapitated, just the head, just the tail, a mouse gallbladder, etc.  When she wanted to add some excitement to our lives, she would bring the mouse in live, let it loose, and then stalk and kill it.  I never knew that cats growled until I was woken in the dead of night and heard her growling at a mouse next to my bed.  It was a fearsome sound.  So, I knew this was an offering given in the hopes of reestablishing our peaceful coexistence.  Either that, or she was making a  trade for the baby birds.

My and Josiah’s transportation adventure to Atlanta provided us with much suspense. On Friday, the day we flew there were thunderstorms, tornado watches and equipment malfunctions in Atlanta. We checked in quite early for our flight and I noticed that all the flights ahead of us were delayed 2 hours. I asked the representative why our flight was not delayed and she replied, “Oh, they must have caught up.” “Sure they did”, I thought. “More likely it just hasn’t been posted yet”. As suspected, by the time we sat down at the gate, the flight was delayed. An hour after the flight’s scheduled departure, they started to load the plane. Josiah and I had seats toward the front, so we were waiting for our turn. With the plane 3/4 full, they stopped loading because Atlanta had completely shut down for a hail storm. 30 minutes later, we loaded the plane full of pessimistic travelers who were convinced we were not leaving Virginia that night. Once everyone was loaded, we waited another 30 minutes for permission from Atlanta to leave Virginia. The flight had a bit of turbulence, so the cabin crew decided not to offer the meager service that was due: a bag of peanuts, cookies, or crackers and a drink. At some point they must have felt a bit of remorse and walked through the plane handing out bags of peanuts and a cup of water. I thought fondly of flight service in Australia which is so far above any flight service in America. When we landed, Atlanta airport was a madhouse, full of travelers who had missed connections because of the delays and cancellations. Josiah and I made our way over to the MARTA (Atlanta train system). On the way, I bought 2 individual pizzas for dinner thinking we would eat on the train. Well, you are not allowed to eat on the train. The airport is in south Atlanta and our hotel was all the way north. The train ride took 40 minutes. My favorite comment from the train driver was when he said, “We are axing you to be careful when you exit the train because the platforms are slippery.” I know if people are axing me something, I am in the south. After we got off the train, we had to get a cab to the hotel. I do know that English is not the primary language of cab drivers. However, for some strange reason, I expect them to speak at least a little English and to know where they are going. We got into the cab and I told the driver the name and suburb of the hotel. I asked him if he knew where that was. He mumbled something that sounded in the affirmative. He called back to his dispatcher and only Spanish could be heard in the cab. After he had driven around for awhile he asked me if he should turn right or left. Having no idea where I was or where I was going, I was at a loss. I remembered that I had the hotel information with driving directions and pulled it out and tried to hand it to him. The directions were written in English, of course, and he couldn’t read them. I started reading off road numbers and names in the hopes of arriving at a common location. When I said, “La Vista Road,” He got all excited. “La Vista Road! La Vista Road!”, he repeated. Then he asked me, “Right or Left?” At one point in this mini recreation of planes, trains, and automobiles, Josiah looked at me and said, “All this for a spelling bee?” “Yes, son, all this for a spelling Bee.” We finally got to the hotel at 10 pm, ate our cold pizza and went to bed. The next day after the bee, we wanted to take the train into downtown Atlanta. So, this involved another cab driver. The hotel called the cab and the driver spoke English fairly well although his native tongue was from Africa. We did manage to find a train station although it wasn’t the one I had asked to go to. I helped him out by pointing out places to drop us off while he was making u turns apparently at a loss as to which way to go. On the train ride home, Josiah and I tried to guess what language our cab driver would speak this time. Josiah went for French and I guessed he would be from India. We entered the cab to Spanish singing island music. He didn’t speak English either, but he did know where he was going. Friends who also attended the bee spared us from another cab ride by giving us a ride to the airport. Thus ended my pursuit of an English speaking cab driver who knew where he was going. If ever I find one, I’ll ax him if he’s the only one.

The last two days have been warm and the insects and frogs have started making sounds at dusk. I am praying that Spring is arriving. Last week, while my parents were here, the weather was cold. We had the pellet stove burning every day. Winter did not want to give up it’s hold just yet. As well as the cold last week, we had sickness. Zeke and Abby both got the gastro (as they say in Australia), better known here as the stomach flu. It was a bad one. I slept on a cot in Zeke’s room for a few nights because he had “the throats”, his wording for throwing up. He still periodically informs me, “I’m all done the throats, Mommy.” Throughout their times of sickness, I fought the fears and worries that tried to beset me. “What if I get sick? How can I handle this?…” My worries can just go on and on and on until I work myself into a tizzy. Then, being in a tizzy makes me mad and I begin to rage at the injustice of Army life. “Why did they have to send my husband to Iraq? Why do tours have to be a year or longer? Why won’t this tour ever end?” My rage does me no good. For the Army, Family is far far down the list. Although it is capitalized. In the midst of my worried and angry mood, Zeke came walking down the hallway towards me with a giant tin of marbles and dropped them. Marbles were soon rolling everywhere. I looked at him and said, “You and me Zeke, we’re both losing our marbles.” My friend Martyn calls from Australia to encourage me. My brother, Howie calls and prays with me. Then, all the things that God has been trying to speak to me are once again heard. Peace comes again into my heart. God is faithful to me. Throughout this deployment, God has been faithful to me. I am surrounded by people who have helped me when I’ve needed it and I know would help me again. I tell myself, “think on the good not the bad, be grateful not selfish, love…always hopes.” Spring is full of hope. I see it in the robin looking for worms, the daffodil that has just opened, the yellow stems of the forsythia, the soft buds on the pear tree. “Play some baseball, Mommy?”, Zeke asks. So, out Zeke and I go to pitch and hit and hope for the best part of Spring which will arrive in just over a month.

This morning I went on a site visit to an Iraqi Army (IA) compound on the west side of Mosul. One of the local Military Transition Teams (MiTTs) requested some engineering assistance. A MiTT is a team of US Army advisors assigned to work with an IA unit. Periodically we oversee construction projects to renovate IA facilities. So the MiTT asked if I could have a couple of Engineers take a look at the Combat Outpost (COP) occupied by their newly assigned IA unit. I tasked Alda and Mo to visit the site with the MiTT, and then I decided to tag along.

We rode with the MiTT in their up-armored HMMWVs (humvees). Two of my security team members also came along to get a look at the compound for future visits. A picture is worth a thousand words.

Unfortunately, things got much worse as we took a closer look. The IA Battalion Commander was very excited to have us assess his compound in the hopes of getting some assistance in fixing it up! He walked us through his unit area pointing out his key concerns. The biggest issue is that the septic system is completely backed up. But that’s enough bad news. He was very proud to show us his battalion store.

It makes me appreciate the PX on Diamondback that much more! Of course, we ended the visit just like we started the visit, sipping a cup of chai in the commander’s office.

Once again, the TV was never turned off.

Gabe had his eighth birthday and I can still remember the cold and snowy day in New York when he was born. No cold and snow for his 8th however. We had a heat wave. He had his party on Saturday at Build A Bear, a shop that is conveniently located everywhere we’ve lived. We even found one in Melbourne at Chadstone. Chadstone also had a 3 story Borders Book Store with an escalator. If I got paid money for all the times I mention Borders in this blog, I’d be rich. Chadstone is as close as you get to an American mall in Australia. In fact, when our Aussie friend Martyn went to an American mall, he told his wife that it was just like Chadstone. Build a Bear parties involve being led around the shop by a cheery worker who helps you choose, stuff, and name a bear. The kids had to jump up and down, kiss a heart, hug their bears, and take a pledge of responsibility. Gabe wanted to buy his stuffed dog a football uniform to wear while watching the Super Bowl and Zeke wanted to buy his bear a High School Musical t-shirt. When we finally left the shop, Josiah declared that he could never get a job at Build A Bear. All that smiling and happy talk would be impossible. For Gabe’s birthday dinner, we went to Chuck E Cheese. On the drive there the kids did a sing along to Gabe’s new High School Musical CD thoughtfully given by his Aunt Marie. She sent the CD and a whoopie cushion. I’m not sure which one will eventually annoy me more. I had high hopes for a night at Chuck E Cheese that wasn’t full on. I thought, “it’s Tuesday night, hardly anyone will be there.” Silly me. A school had an event going on and it was it’s usual madhouse. The kids got busy spending their coins on the games. Abby loves to punch the ducks, Zeke loves to squish the spiders, Gabe declared moving magnets easy, and Josiah couldn’t figure out why some little kid can win millions of tickets on ski ball when he can only win two tickets every time. After we left the madness, I told Josiah that just as he could never work at Build A Bear, I could never work at Chuck E Cheese. Abby asked why not. Josiah said, “Because it’s loud and crowded and filled with obnoxious children.” There are somethings the boy does notice, but his giant baritone sitting in his classroom for him to take home today was not one of them. For dessert we went to Krispy Kreme in honor of Dale and conveniently arrived while the donuts were hot. When we were choosing the donuts, the donut guy said that if the kids brought in their report cards, they could get a free donut for every A. Too bad their father isn’t here to steal all the donuts they’ll soon be collecting. On the way home, Abby decided to ask everyone in the car if they were an optimist or a pessimist. Josiah’s reply was, “I am not the guy who would say the glass is half full and I am not the guy who would say the glass is half empty. I am the guy who would say, What glass?”