Day one, minus one, and counting

When we sit and ponder our lives, we do so from a unique position; we view ourselves with our own eyes. My eyes are set into my head. I don't have one of those buggy-eye complexes, and as such I don't have the pleasure of gazing upon my grand visage on a daily basis, except upon visible, not metaphorical, reflection.

What a shock it was when I happened upon these two photos. One is of me prior to our deployment to either Jamaica in 1989 or Australia in 1990. In other words, before I started working on Camp Grafton. The other photo is of me on my last day of work at Camp Grafton. I think we can all agree, working at Camp Grafton is not good for the aging process. Save yourselves!!

Day One, minus two, and counting

Well, here I sit, Monday night, burning CD's, and I'm still not ready to go. I spent the day cleaning the house, and burning CD's, and running errands in town, and burning CD's, eating supper, and burning CD's. I see a pattern beginning to develop.
Yesterday I was in Velva at a family reunion/farewell party. It was nice to see friends and family I haven't been able to see for some time.
I'm a bit tired and the witty meter has pegged on the low side. Better stuff tomorrow. :)

Day one, minus three, and counting

With the help of friends I moved out of the house yesterday. We got everything packed into the truck and then safely stored in Grand Forks. There are a few more items in storage at my dad's place, and my house is empty. Hughie had no problem falling asleep last night. :)

When I picked up the truck, I thought "Wow! I can pack everything I own and pull in my car to the back of this thing. But we packed it to the back. Then when we started putting it into the storage facility I and the other guys thought there was no way it'd all fit. But fit it did. Thanks Cal and Don for all the help. I couldn't have done it without you!! How all that stuff fit into that tiny garage is still beyond me.

Day one, minus four, and counting

Yeah, I know I skipped a day. I have several phrases rolling around in my head. Something about a cart and a horse, and something about the hatching eggs. Lesson learned; in a public blog, never make predictions.
I didn't get much packed two days ago, and as such spent yesterday packing, and packing, and packing. It's about 5 am Saturday and my buddy Cal is coming by at 8 to help me move the big stuff into the truck, and I'm still packing.
Isn't there also a lesson here for time management? Things that make you go, hmmm.

Day One, minus six, and counting

I received the mobilization orders this morning, along with my plane ticket to Washington.
I should finish packing tonight; all that remains are the kitchen cupboards. We'll start throwing the furniture on the truck tomorrow night and pick up where we leave off on Saturday.

Day One, minus Seven, and counting

Packing the house continues, albeit abated. How can one person have so much stuff that never gets used? I think I have gremlins stealing stuff from other people and leaving it at my house. Interesting theory, but I have yet to find anything I was unable to identify as belonging to me.

Maybe it's the reverse theory of the 'missing sock from the dryer'. You put 14 individual socks into the dryer and are only able to retrieve 13 socks. Where is the last sock?

Perhaps, over the course of the 14 years I've been in the house, enough socks have been lost to band together and form new matter, turning themselves into the extra stuff I'm finding all over my house. Or maybe not.

But I digress.

I have a story to share before I leave Camp Grafton.

The Camp Grafton parade field is no more. Civilian contractors have removed the grass and are replacing it with concrete and block to build the new RTI facility.

One of the first things they had to do was remove the flag pole from the center of the parade field. As it's protected as a historic monument, the National Guard has to retain ownership.

When it was uprooted, the ball on top of the flagpole, the truck, was removed, gawked upon, and laughed about.

Why? Because it's full of bullet holes. I can hear the echoes of years past, "Hold my beer and watch this."

The pictures speak for themselves.

Day One, minus Eight, and counting

In eight days the mobilization orders begin and I'll enter into the next chapter of my existence. Three days after that, the plane will carry me, body and soul, into that chapter.
For anybody wondering about the title and address of this blog site, both are from my favorite book, Dune.
The heroes of Dune are of the family Atreides, and I am a sergeant. Too easy.
The title of the blog is my favorite line from Dune. Take from it what you will.