A New Look

This evening, I had a friend's young daughter at my house and she asked if she could give me a beautiful hairstyle and make-up like a princess. She couldn't wait for me to show Tell and Atira and just KNEW they would love my new look. The look on Tell's face was priceless. I was very proud of him for keeping his horror to himself, however, and simply giving a hesitant "yeah" accompanied by a thumbs up when Kingsley asked, "Don't you just love it?" The budding young stylist is not yet available for weddings and proms but she could possibly carve out a niche for herself during this Halloween season.












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Car Parts

What do a large industrial truck tire and a 15 amp tail light fuse have in common? Irregardless of size, when not functioning properly, both of those car parts impede the ability of a vehicle to be freely driven along Route 1 here in Maine.

Thankfully, our vehicle has only been suffering from the small malfunctioning part. I was very proud of myself today for identifying and fixing the problem. Alas, my mechanical victory was short-lived when the fuse blew again, only moments after replacing it. It must be an electrical short somewhere, which means the remedy is now above my pay grade.

I will take the inconvenience of daytime only driving, however, over driving with a missing wheel.

On our school commute north Friday, Nolan and I watched a larger industrial truck tire come bouncing across the wide portion of Route 1 just after the Dairy Queen, about 40 feet in front of us. It seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. I turned to look at Nolan and his puzzled expression matched mine. With incredulity, one of us, I'm not even sure which, asked the other, "Did you see that?" Glancing into my side mirror allowed me to see the origin of the tire, a large truck headed South. The truck still maintained control but the sparks were flying!
Yeah. I'll take the absence of taillights, thanks.







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Saturday Traffic

Today's activities began with Nolan's second round of driving time. His instructor, Driver Ed (seriously), is very impressed with how well Nolan is doing. Jim met them going down our driveway and apparently, Nolan had two hands on the wheel and a big smile on his face.





The biggest influx of foot traffic today was brought in by way of Tell's Birthday party. Unfortunately I had the Salvador lens on my Hipstamatic app and didn't get any normal photos of Tell's many attempts at blowing out his candles before he laughingly put his head in his hand and accepted the help of friends.






Kingsley's arrival ended the afternoon and a date with the Fishers concluded this people-filled day.





The traffic of 21 people made for a good Saturday.

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Filling the Mailbox

Women's Retreat thank yous, care packages, notes of encouragement and, of course, boot camp letters, have created quite a bit of traffic in my mailbox this past month. More than I've had in a very long time. While Jubal is at Parris Island, I have been writing to him each day and have realized how very little "pen and paper" correspondence I participate in anymore. It has been difficult keeping my envelopes plain, so as not to attract the attention of Jubal's Drill Instructor. That strains against my artistic nature. This let to the pattern overload when I sent out a baby gift package to the Nkamwesigas in Uganda. Jim saw the package on the table and asked if they were the power bars that I was sending to Jubal. "Take a good look at that package, Jim. Do you really think that I would be sending it to boot camp?" I would NOT be a good mother.





I think back to my childhood and teenage years and all the letters I received from friends and family members. Many I still have, tucked away in a couple small boxes: An Easter postcard from my great grandparents in Nebraska, an old childhood Valentine poem, Birthday cards filled with sweet sentiments from my Grandparents, friend letters infused with camp and CYIA memories, pages of hilarious notes from my H.S. best friend, and of course, some bundled love letters. The emotions created by these items, varies. Some make me laugh, some make me wistful, some all warm and fuzzy. Some create the sadness of missing a loved one, others create the thankfulness of knowing a great friendship. All of them capture a little slice of my life that might otherwise have been forgotten years ago .
It's not always easy to get something out to Jubal everyday but I know he appreciates hearing his name at evening mail call and being temporarily transported back home through the written word. If he is anything like me, in 30 years, his appreciation for the bundles of memories will only have grown.

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No News is Good News

On Friday I received an introductory form letter from Jubal's Drill Instructor as well as a form letter from Jubal with his permanent address. Because of this, I was certainly not expecting anything from Jubal today in the mail. When I opened the mailbox and saw the already familiar Eagle, Globe and Anchor with Jubal's magnifying glass-worthy handwriting, I was surprised. Upon closer inspection, surprise morphed into amused bewilderment when I realized that the envelope was completely void of any correspondence. It's good to know that Jubal was listening well when, during our briefing, his recruiter told us that "no news is usually good news".





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Frenemy

By the very nature of his designation, my favorite frenemy, Don, excels at cloaking his soft-hearted side in sarcasm and verbal ribbing. I was only fooled for about the first six months of our friendship. (During that time I did wonder how in the world he snagged someone as compassionate and kind as Deb.) That was about twenty years ago, however. Now I know the real Don, the Don of dual personalities. The Don that doesn't really care about football but stays up late watching my beloved Patriots get creamed just so he can irritate me with his happy texts about it but then shows up at the house the next day with Dunkin' Donuts coffee to cheer me up after their wretched defeat. Frenemies only come around once in a blue moon. I'm thankful for mine and the coffee he brings.



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The Quick and the Loud

It's been about 24 hours since his arrival and I'm guessing by now, that the culture shock of life on Parris Island has set in for Jubal.

Quick and loud is the way to blend in and bring as little attention to yourself as possible during training. This applies even to phone calls apparently.

Upon arrival, the new recruits process through many stations. such as hair cut, gear issue and of course, the "safe arrival" phone call. I was prepared for the scripted words and the short 10 second duration but I hadn't realized that Jubal would be YELLING all his information into the phone. "This is Recruit Gilbert! I have arrived safely at Parris Island..." rang quite loudly in my ear at 3:10 AM. It was a little unusual and I think I was still chuckling as my head hit the pillow once again.

Now the only means of communication will be letters for the next 12 weeks.

I think some personalized stationery is in order.




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