This is my first attemot at blogging since March of this year and oddly, I last blogged right before my whole world flipped upside down. I found out I would be deploying to Kuwait and, five order modifications later, as well as many different departure dates, I finally left to process into Norfolk for the beginning of the predeployment stuff.
The Lord, in His wisdom, gently led me into the heat that I now realize is my future, by letting Norfolk be hot and humid the whole week I was there. The smell of sweaty khakis is pretty putrid, as all officers (and owners of wet dogs) know, since it smells like just that: wet dog. I walked myself dutifully to NMPS where I was poked, prodded, sent on various wild goose chases and then sent lickety split down to South Carolina for training.
When I described Fort Jackson to my mom, it sounded like a mix of summer camp and my worst nightmare. I 1) hate being dirty and 2) hate being sweaty and 3) hate other people seeing me in either of the above states. I had always wondered what it would take for me to not even want to wear mascara in the morning....I found out that it was very simple; sweating my booty off in 100 degree temperature in full body armor and out in the South Carolina woods was just the catalyst I needed. I became so free without makeup that when I put it on to go to dinner last Saturday night, everyone in my barracks was shocked and amazed that I could be a pretty girl! My poor eyelashes revolted against the makeup; it appears my face likes to be au naturale. One bad thing that occurred, and I never thought I would say this, but my kevlar helmut strap left me with an outbreak of pimples along my strap line. Darn that kevlar!
After three weeks of hustling around in our body armor (where I won the "looks most like a turtle" award from my buddies) and shooting guns, I became a hardened killer. Just kidding. But I did qualifiy on the weapons, and I did get rather proficient at clearing my weapons and walking with a swagger like John Wayne and I did start to feel that I was just a little bit tough. After I had all that under my belt, we loaded our three seabags (and a ruck sack) with our kevlar, body armor, equipment, gear and all sorts of fun Army goodies and set off for Kuwait.
When I walked off the freezing plane, I realized that the hot air wasn't just something blowing off the plane, dang it...it was Kuwait! Crap.
So here I am, day two of captivity, where I have found a new definition of hot. And no, I don't mean hot good looking, because I still haven't worn any makeup for a week, I mean hot as blazes. I feel like poor Luke Skywalker, stuck on Tattooine...just waiting for Uncle Owen to let him go off world.
But for me, it's Uncle Sam holding me back.
Oh well! C'est la vie! On with more briefings in the morning!
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