Playing catch-up

Hello, everyone. Long time no talk. As I attempted to adjust to a new hectic schedule the first few weeks on the ground here in Kosovo, I neglected to update my blog. Quite a few things happened since I last posted. Some good. Some not so good. Where do I start? Well, how about before Thanksgiving…

I was a crazy fool the day I decided to participate in the DANCON road march. Four JVB team members and I navigated a 25 km course with a 22 pound backpack in 5 ½ hours. Oddly enough, the first 3 miles were the most difficult for me. After that, I learned the mental game of walking until your feet fall off. The day was beautiful, the scenery gorgeous. The only major hiccup was a 2 or 3 km stretch that was straight uphill. We climbed so high that we reached an area that was higher in elevation than the smog from Mitrovica. I took a deep breath of fresh air, which is hard to find, and then continued the 2 or 3 km downhill stretch. Somewhere along the way, I ripped open a blister and rolled an ankle. I had no idea until I reached the finish line, sat down for a half hour, and then tried to get up. I’m still trying to get my ankle up to speed!

The next major event was Thanksgiving. We started the day with a 5 km Gobble Gash, which we as a team walked. Later that afternoon we attended Thanksgiving dinner at our dining facility. The spread was quite impressive compared to what our contractors normally put out. Every table had a couple bottles of nonalcoholic wine and menus with a letter from the United States Army Europe commander. All the Thanksgiving standards were available, served by the officers and senior NCOs from our task force. The JVB team ate together, and before the end of the meal, each person mentioned something they were thankful for. I had myself a cup of eggnog and headed back to my room for a little Skype with the family. The absolute best part of my Thanksgiving holiday was the opportunity to see and visit with my family over Skype. I even had the opportunity to see my great grandmother, which I’m sure she could never have imagined possible.

We changed our JVB mission for the day a couple of weeks ago when we traveled with a Liaison Monitoring Team to a school way up in the hills near Strpce. We were warmly welcomed by the faculty and children of the tiny school of about 60 students. We had a meet and greet in a little office that was heated by a wood stove, where one of the teachers dominated the conversation with talk about the needs of his school. He, like many other people of Kosovo, continually thanked us for what we’ve done as U.S. soldiers. Another teacher remarked at how many female soldiers we had with us. After our meeting, the teachers challenged us to game of volleyball outside. I took on the roll of photographer. One thing really got to me while I was watching the match. A couple of the little girls really admired me for some reason. I would look away for a couple of seconds, and all of a sudden I would have a new friend six inches from my face. I hope whatever it is that makes me an interesting person to them helps them in the future to become the young women they are meant to be. Kosovo is changing, and I hope that these girls will be a positive influence in that process.

Besides the mundane, day in, day out part of a deployment, my life has been pretty exciting. I’ve tried Thai food for the first time, mastered manual transmission vehicles and Kosovo traffic, and I’ve even learned my fair share of information about primates and humans from an online course. Things aren’t turning out too badly after all.Hello, everyone. Long time no talk. As I attempted to adjust to a new hectic schedule the first few weeks on the ground here in Kosovo, I neglected to update my blog. Quite a few things happened since I last posted. Some good. Some not so good. Where do I start? Well, how about before Thanksgiving…

I was a crazy fool the day I decided to participate in the DANCON road march. Four JVB team members and I navigated a 25 km course with a 22 pound backpack in 5 ½ hours. Oddly enough, the first 3 miles were the most difficult for me. After that, I learned the mental game of walking until your feet fall off. The day was beautiful, the scenery gorgeous. The only major hiccup was a 2 or 3 km stretch that was straight uphill. We climbed so high that we reached an area that was higher in elevation than the smog from Mitrovica. I took a deep breath of fresh air, which is hard to find, and then continued the 2 or 3 km downhill stretch. Somewhere along the way, I ripped open a blister and rolled an ankle. I had no idea until I reached the finish line, sat down for a half hour, and then tried to get up. I’m still trying to get my ankle up to speed!

The next major event was Thanksgiving. We started the day with a 5 km Gobble Gash, which we as a team walked. Later that afternoon we attended Thanksgiving dinner at our dining facility. The spread was quite impressive compared to what our contractors normally put out. Every table had a couple bottles of nonalcoholic wine and menus with a letter from the United States Army Europe commander. All the Thanksgiving standards were available, served by the officers and senior NCOs from our task force. The JVB team ate together, and before the end of the meal, each person mentioned something they were thankful for. I had myself a cup of eggnog and headed back to my room for a little Skype with the family. The absolute best part of my Thanksgiving holiday was the opportunity to see and visit with my family over Skype. I even had the opportunity to see my great grandmother, which I’m sure she could never have imagined possible.

We changed our JVB mission for the day a couple of weeks ago when we traveled with a Liaison Monitoring Team to a school way up in the hills near Strpce. We were warmly welcomed by the faculty and children of the tiny school of about 60 students. We had a meet and greet in a little office that was heated by a wood stove, where one of the teachers dominated the conversation with talk about the needs of his school. He, like many other people of Kosovo, continually thanked us for what we’ve done as U.S. soldiers. Another teacher remarked at how many female soldiers we had with us. After our meeting, the teachers challenged us to game of volleyball outside. I took on the roll of photographer. One thing really got to me while I was watching the match. A couple of the little girls really admired me for some reason. I would look away for a couple of seconds, and all of a sudden I would have a new friend six inches from my face. I hope whatever it is that makes me an interesting person to them helps them in the future to become the young women they are meant to be. Kosovo is changing, and I hope that these girls will be a positive influence in that process.

Besides the mundane, day in, day out part of a deployment, my life has been pretty exciting. I’ve tried Thai food for the first time, mastered manual transmission vehicles and Kosovo traffic, and I’ve even learned my fair share of information about primates and humans from an online course. Things aren’t turning out too badly after all.

What BREW in Action actually means

Contrary to what you might believe, the title of my blog has nothing to do with alcohol or tea or any drink you can brew. The titled is actually based on the simplified version of Concordia College's mission statement: Becoming Responsibly Engaged in the World. I spent my first year in college writing several papers about this phrase. Every professor wanted me to find a definition for BREW. Though I hated how mundane the assignments were, they left an impression on me. The only problem was that I couldn't find a way to influence the world I lived in. I felt like I kept taking from everyone, rather than giving to those who need it. I was given an education, was ministered to in church services, was loved disproportionately. It killed me.
Thousands of miles away from my home, I have made BREW my mission statement. We are not missionaries here in Kosovo. The U.N. stopped some nasty things that were going on here back in the '90s. NATO pushed out a lot of humanitarian aid from then until just recently. But now, things are different. Help doesn't come so much in donations as it does with a friendly wave and a good conversation over a macchiato. To be honest, I expected BREW to be more like the former. I guess influence comes in many different forms.
To give you an idea of what this kind of interaction is like, let me tell you a story. The man you see in this photo is the owner of a restaurant near the Church of the Black Madonna. He knows little English, but he speaks German pretty well. KFOR 11's JVB were regular customers when they brought generals in the area. They would often come in the day prior to tell him that they were going to be bringing someone the next day. He would then prepare an extravagant meal for them. Well, Josefi loves U.S. troops. When I first met him, he gave us all macchiatos on the house, simply out of kindness. KFOR 11 shared their goodbyes, and I could tell they were truly heartfelt. He shaked all of our hands and gave us a huge hug. Then he pointed down the road and told us that next time, he wants to show us his house. I can tell we are in the beginning of a friendship. Now I have no clue what we did to deserve such kind treatment. In some ways I feel that people like Josefi are simply gracious. There is nothing "humanitarian" about friendship, but it leaves a huge impact on the world.
I met a man in Prizren today who was overjoyed to talk to U.S. Soldiers. He started the conversation by talking about Michael Jackson and how he is #1 in the music world. Then he proceeded to mention Tom Cruise and other entertainers. He was conscious of our time and asked if it was alright that we were talking to him. It seemed like he just wanted to chat with an American.
Okay, so I hope you understand that becoming responsibly engage in the world doesn't always mean being a good Samaritan. My definition changes constantly, but as of right now, I can see that it is rarely a one-sided affair. I am struck by the kindness of strangers. People like Josefi and my friend from Prizren demonstrate BREW in their undue hospitality. Here's my new acronym for BREW: Building Relationships EveryWhere.

The plan

I just started work on my professional goal for the deployment. The plan is that I will leave Kosovo with an Associate's degree through the help of active duty tuition assistance. I'm working through University of Maryland University College - Europe. I know. It's a mouthful. With only five classes in addition to the credits I earned at Concordia, I can receive a degree.
Now why would I do that? Well, it's a long story, but the key point is it's a lot easier to move about in the professional world with a degree in hand. You never know. I could land a perfect summer internship with an Associate's. And why not? The military is paying for it, with the exception of books. I need something to keep me occupied in my free time, and I want to stay active in academics until I return to Concordia.
But there's another reason. At times I feel unintelligent because I am a driver. The job requires more skill than intelligence, and it's left for E-4s and E-5s who don't qualify for anything else. Unfortunately my training as a military musician didn't qualify me for anything else on the deployment. Don't get me wrong. I value the work we do as the joint visitors bureau. If it were not for us, general officers would run unescorted across Camp Bondsteel without any sort of agenda. Poor Soldiers wouldn't know anything about protocol and would fail to call buildings to attention and salute the general's vehicle without our guidance. Our commanding general wouldn't know anything about his visitors, and the task force as a whole would be unprepared. A lot of work goes into what we do, but in the end, people can't get past my job title: Driver.
My college attendance gives me a little more dignity. I'm taking physical anthropology, a course I feel is perfect considering the cultural diversity present in both our task force and Kosovo as a whole. The content corresponds with the objective of my global studies major: to learn about the diverse cultures of this world and define the common thread that makes us all human.

Football in Kosovo

Kids are a different breed here in Kosovo. The absolute first thing I noticed when I got on the road from Pristina to Camp Bondsteel the day I got here was the children. They are adorable, bold, vivacious, insane, well dressed, and completely receptive to any and all influences. Every kid who saw our convoy waved and smiled. They love us for some reason. Even in the most "hostile" areas, the kids are the most likely to give us positive recognition. When we pass by on the street, many of them giggle as they try out their English skills.
These kids live in a different world than the one in the States. In many areas, there is no such thing as a sidewalk. Our vehicles pass within inches of small children who roam along the roadway. It kills me to see how preschool age children walk independently on these crazy streets with no parent in sight. Some of them have backpacks half their size. They live in continual danger, but no one seems to blink an eye about it. But the great thing about the children here is that they are still kids, no matter what kind of lifestyle they live.
Like typical Europeans, Kosovar kids LOVE football (the European kind i.e. soccer). When my team went out on a recon this afternoon, we found a group of boys who were playing around with a little soccer ball near the church we were visiting. I have been dying to play, so started passing the ball to one of the kids. A couple of Soldiers joined in the circle, then a few kids joined. I was reminded that my primary mission was the see the Church of the Black Madonna, where Mothere Teresa received her calling, so I hopped in there and took a look around. It was awe inspiring, but I kept thinking about the kids. I walked out and saw that what started as kicking the ball around became a full-fledged game. Kids against Soldiers. I quickly hopped into the game, M4 still slung behind my back. After a couple of minutes, the priest who was overseeing the game motioned for me to put my weapon down beside him. I couldn't exactly do that, but one of my comrades volunteered to hold it for me. I took the first few minutes of the game lightly. I didn't want to hurt anybody, and I've always been taught to let the kids win. It builds their self-esteem. But after awhile, I realized my butt was being kicked by a bunch of 7 to 12-year-olds, and they were laughing about it. The game was on!
I let out my aggression on this boy in pink (note picture above) who had outsmarted me too many times. I was jogging to the ball when it went out into the boonies when I noticed he was right next to me. I eyballed him, and he eyeballed me. I knew it would be a race. We sprinted, with several kids behind us cheering him on. It was a tie, but I let him have the ball so I wouldn't have to trample him.
In the end, Father Chris introduced us to all of the kids. Some were refugees from Macedonia. Some were Albanians. Others were Serbs. I had never been in situation with kids from so many places and backgrounds. This is not common in Kosovo, where people are influenced by ethnic tension on every level. Cities are divided. Kids go to separate schools. They even speak different languages. This football game was truly special.

What happened in Germany...

So I never wrote a post while I was in Germany. "Why?" you might ask. Well, internet access was next to impossible. I had enough time to check my e-mail, and that was about it. Sure, we had a building set up for personal internet access, but it was only for 15 minutes at a time. I couldn't even justify the time spent in vain to keep you all informed. Excuse #2: I was severely depressed about the kind of living conditions I was forced to live in, and I really didn't want to talk about it. We had open showers and food called unit group rations that came out of frozen boxes. I had too much free time but nothing to do to fill the time. I couldn't focus on anything else but the bad things that I had to deal with everyday. Sure, good things happened, but I was so wrapped up in what was going on that I probably missed it.
The moral of the story is that I am now out of Hohenfels and in Kosovo. Things have improved greatly, and I have the time and resources to pick up the story from here. (Though I might share a few stories from Germany a little later.)

Pass Part 3

I made a fresh discovery here at Camp Atterbury. I am a free woman. Yeah, I said it. Though I have no car to drive to Indy, I have freedom of movement about the post. And for the last day of my pass, I can sleep in as long as I care to without guilt. So I did just that. I slept in until 9 and read for three hours until my book ran out. I was hungry, but I was not about to eat chow hall food. No way, no how. I showered, geared up, and made the trek down to the all ranks club to order myself a burger and fries. And here I am, with a full belly and a happy, defiant demeanor. The club is an interesting place, a place I really didn't discover until a week ago. There is a bar, of course; a short order cafe; and a coffee shop that I have yet to utilize. I'm looking at the menu right now, and I see all the chai tea, lattes and mochas I never ordered. The day is still young, I suppose. I don't think I'm going to leave this place without a coffee or tea beverage in my hand. It's been too long.

Pass ends tonight. My bags are almost completely packed and ready for the flight to Germany. As much as I am tired to packing and unpacking, I know that every time I am getting closer to Kosovo. I see Germany as temporary housing. I will not be there long enough for my initial patience to wear off. I really lost my patience with Atterbury after about three weeks. I think I can deal with Hohenfels and its substandard living conditions for just as long, maybe a little longer. I can play the game. The Army has taught me how to endure, and it has slowly raised my tolerance level. I won't allow myself to be treated as property of the government yet, but I'm getting there. Give me a few more years in the service, and I will gladly be the Army's pin cushion despite my fear of needles. I will hardly blink twice about 16-18 hour days on a specialist's paycheck. You wait. It'll happen. I'm not there yet, but I'm going down that path.

Pass Part 2

Pass really started the moment I awoke from my nap after the trip to Indy. I packed my assault pack (Army backpack) for a vacation in Edinburgh. A buddy and I made a hotel reservation for the Holiday Inn Express for two nights, and the hotel staff was nice enough to allow us to check in early. So by noon I was back in my civies and in my nice little hotel room, rested and ready for an adventure. Granted, we were limited by our age because we couldn't rent a car. No worries. There was an outlet mall right outside our door. The hotel was in want of many things, but do you think I really cared about any of them when I was just happy to sleep in a real bed and have a real bathroom? The one thing I wish they had was a hot tub.
I had two priorities while on pass.
1. Get some new clothes.
2. Eat hearty portions of real food from many different places.
I accomplished both like a pro. I bought some cute shirts from PacSun and Rue 21 and even got some new running shoes from the Adidas outlet. As far as food is concerned, I had Snappy Tomato pizza, some of the best stuff I've had. I hit up Ruby Tuesday and had a real burger, and then went to Montana Mike's and had amazing steak.
Unfortunately, I ended up with a migraine (with every symptom of a hangover, without the alcohol). Apparently, when a person is finally free of a stressful environment, her body lets its guard down and illness happens. Needless to say, my $15 meal didn't do its job. I only ate half the steak and very little of the shrimp. It was still good though.
Now I'm back at Camp Atterbury without wheels, so I don't know what I will do until tomorrow night. I guess I'll see what happens. More to come...

Pass Part 1

Well, my pass officially started at 1600 on Wednesday. I whipped off my Army green like a drunken skinny dipper and put on the only civilian attire I brought with me: my favorite pair of jeans and a tie-dyed shirt I made with my mom and sister just days before I left home. And I can't forget about the real bra. After wearing a sport bra for a few weeks, I was in awe of how womanly I felt while wearing a real one. Ahhh. It was good.

Unfortunately for me, my job required that I not relax too much right away. Just after I changed into normal clothes, I was told that my team needed me to go on a run to Indy to drop off the command team and a few others at their respective hotels. Since I'm one of the few people who happen to know the roads a little bit, I was assigned as the navigator/A driver. "Alright," I told myself, "I will do this, but I will not change back into uniform. This is my pass, gosh darn it." So, in the van we went. I parked myself next to the sergeant major and pulled out my Kindle. Sidebar... In my few weeks as a driver, I have dealt with many a backseat driver. Picture this. You have the commanding general, the sergeant major, the JAG, public affairs, etc. Now, all of these people are anxious to get to their hotels and all of them think they know how to get there. I thought I had it bad. My colonel, who was the driver, had it much worse. There was definitely too much testosterone in that van.

We accomplished the mission, despite everyone's ideas of how to get there or how to get there faster. On the way back, we hit up a White Castle. Up to that point, I was a White Castle virgin who had never held in my hand a tiny sandwich with an even tinier meat patty. The food made it all worth it. I don't know if the meal was actually good or not, but I can say that the experience made it unique.

Ah, but my pass didn't really start at the end of this trip. I still had a 0330 wake up the following morning because my DVs (distinguished visitors) had not left yet and still needed a lift to the airport. The trip sucked, to say the least. I made a quick trip to a gas station and tried guzzle some coffee before I picked them up. Once they were in the vehicle, there was no radio, no conversation, no cold air conditioning ( because they were from the Virgin Islands and they would freeze to death). I was afraid I would fall asleep along the way, but my fear of screwing up kept me relatively alert.

Again, food made the trip worth it. When we dropped off our DVs, we stopped at a Waffle House on the way back. I had a good little breakfast and a cup of coffee to keep me alert, drove back to the barracks and took a nap. I woke up, and my pass began...

Light at the end of the Atterbury tunnel

As of yesterday, I have one week until my departure ceremony at Camp Atterbury. After the ceremony, I have a long weekend in Indiana to do pretty much whatever I want. We in the JVB are excited to see the end of our mob training here at Atterbury. Our trainers have disappointed us countless times, our comrades have depended on us for many more things than are actually in our job description, and our resources have been minimal to nonexistant. (For example, the image at the top of this post is a picture of what we call the 24-hour printer. This printer prints only when it wants to. Sometimes that means we won't get our printed documents until a day later. The whole post seems to have the same mindset.) We are set up for our mission in Kosovo, but over the past several weeks, we have been forced to readjust to the mission set before us. The light is at the end of the tunnel. We are in the last stretch before we can finally depart and move on to our training in Germany.
But the mission isn't over yet. Over the next several days, we will be escorting distinguished visitors from all over the U.S. so they observe training and attend our departure ceremony. The number of distinguished visitors alone is overwhelming. Add their entire entourage, and you have a nightmare. I feel ready to take on the task, but only because I know it is the last thing I have to do to leave this place. I hope I can handle a week of sleep deprivation, stress, and chaos. Wait a minute. That's what my job is all about.

First general officer, first coin of the deployment

I'm currently sitting here in my company's headquarters, assigned to CQ, an overnight shift where I man the phone just in case something bad happens. It's one of the joys of being a specialist, I guess. It's late, and I've already had a long day. I'm chewing seeds to keep me occupied. It does feel nice to have some down time to unwind and sort through the last couple of days. Things have been crazy for the joint visitors bureau. We spent the first three weeks at mob station planning and acquainting ourselves with our jobs. Now we have to put all of that coordination into practice. Though the implementation is stressful, I feel such a relief seeing some sort of result.
I had my first general officer as a distinguished visitor today. A two star general who was once the commanding general of the KFOR rotation when my commanding general was their lawyer. The mission ran like clockwork. I was not nervous at all, and the general was actually a pleasant individual. He seemed more concerned about the training we got out of taking care of him than about his personal benefit. He shared stories about past JVB encounters, like leaving him in an un-airconditioned vehicle while fretting over whether the vehicle was properly marked for a general. He even admitted that, as a general officer, he doesn't know where he's going in a new place. When an escort officer follows protocol and trails behind him, he has difficulty finding his way. What an interesting guy with a clear perspective. He coined us with his 38th Infantry Division coin and assured us that we will have quite a collection by the time we get home.

Big Red

One of the things I love about the South is its food. Okay, so Indiana is not quite the South, but it's close enough for my liking. I had a feeling of nostalgia when I first shopped at the PX (post exchange) here at Atterbury. There, in the cooler, was my favorite childhood drink: Big Red. North Dakotans may not have experienced the taste of Big Red because most convenience stores never carry it. Ah, but I did. You see, I have this uncle who used to live in Texas. Every time he came back home, he would bring Big Red for my sister and me. I was hooked. I can only count on one hand how many times I've seen Big Red in North Dakota, but I tell you, I see it everywhere in Indiana. They even have 2 Liter bottles of the stuff. Even diet. There's even a sister soda called Big Blue.
About a week into training, I decided to buy myself a bottle for old times' sake. On the first sip I was reminded of my childhood love of the drink. Big Red tastes like the gum at first, with its cinnamon flavor, and then it leaves a cherry aftertaste. After the second sip, I realized that, as an adult, I can no longer drink pure sugar and feel good about it. Regardless, I took my bottle of Big Red to movie night at the chapel and drank it to completion while watching "Ironman." Though I can't enjoy Big Red like I used to, I might try diet. You never know. I might fall in love all over again.

Routine

Things at Camp Atterbury are slowly down a bit now. More specifically, things are getting into a routine. I am an unfortunate victim of the Army system due to my sudden need for routine. In the civilian world, I work without routine, but in the Army, lack of routine causes miscommunication and mass chaos. I can't thrive without being told when to show up for work, how long I'm going to be there, and what work I will do. If I didn't have a set shift and job responsibilities, I would work late into the night and become a massive overacheiver. I am so glad I have boundaries.
My routine now includes breakfast, working out, and even making my bed. Those who know me well may have once observed that such things were not a priority back in my early college days (this is what I will now call freshman year).
Jamming all of these things into a routine gives me time to do more enjoyable things as well. Yesterday another member of the team and I borrowed bikes from the MWR (Morale, Welfare and Recreation) shop and took them around post to do a tour, or what we like to call a recon. On our tour, we found a campground well stocked with firewood, a laundry facility, a lounge - with real couches! - and hundreds of movies to boot. I felt like I stepped into another world. We also investigated the limits of our post. We literally biked all the way to the signs that told us that we were being watched by video surveillance. In Army terms, this means that the MPs would be on us if we went any further. Bikes are definitely the way to travel around here. The only problem is that I carry an M4, a rifle, and I haven't found a way to transport it with a bicycle. Being that we can only go without a weapon on post while we are physically exercising, this could pose a problem. I'm sure I'll figure it out. Creativity comes out of necessity

Gospel groove

I am now medically cleared for Kosovo, which is exactly what I expected. I'm trying to eat the way I'm supposed to, and for the most part, it's working out.


Sunday was my best day since I came here. I decided to be a little adventurous with my church going, so I went to the gospel service at the post chapel. No one wanted to come with me for some reason. When I got there, I realized that caucasians were a definite minority. I expected that. But the civilian ministry team from Calvary Baptist Church was so welcoming. The minister had a deep, DEEP voice, and you could hear him over everyone in the church when he sang. The piano player had some mad skills on the keys, but his voice was beautiful too. Surprisingly, I knew most of the songs we sang. The only difference is that in this service the songs had a groove to them. And they clap and say their "Amens" like the best of 'em. I have not had that much fun at a worship service in a time. It was exactly what I needed. I'd love to bring this experience back to my home church someday.

Hello from Camp Atterbury

Well, I finally made it to my mobilization station. It has been one crazy adventure since we landed last Friday. Our one advantage is that we had so many of our inprocessing requirements done months before we left. Most of the stations we went to only required a signature or a validation that we had already done the paperwork. I was happy to find out that I had all of my required shots done, except for the mandatory TB test and blood draw for HIV. Oh, and I almost forgot that every female had to have a pregnancy test done. At least I knew what the results were going to be...

I should probably note that I had my blood drawn more than once because I've had a medical issue that has gotten worse since I came here. The Army is concerned about my low energy/dizziness/possible low blood sugar problem. I had to go in for more testing earlier in the week, and the TMC doctor thought of every problem under the sun, except for what was actually wrong. He referred me to what they call "case management," the people in charge of making the decision on whether a person's medical issues make them nondeployable. Scary stuff. After a half hour of troubleshooting with a lieutenant colonel, we finally came to a decision that I'm hypoglycemic. He probably subconsciously thought I was anorexic as well because he told me I don't know how much a Soldier needs to eat. Therefore, I'm on a sort of probationary period where I had to follow his guidelines, get more blood drawn, and have a follow-up meeting at the end of the week. I will hopefully convince him that I will be just fine now that I know what's wrong, and then we will agree that the first doctor completely overreacted.

In the meantime, my team has me under constant supervision. My boss put me on a vitamin regimen - One a Day Maximum multivitamin in the morning and a B complex supplement after lunch. Everyone else is watching me like a hawk, often with food in hand whenever I seem to be having a low period. Things are improving little by little, so hopefully I will be my energetic self very soon.

Despite the health "crisis," I'm adjusting to Camp Atterbury life better than I thought. The place isn't as bad as a lot of people told us it would be. Of course, we North Dakotans are struggling to deal with the heat and humidity. But our barracks cancel out the heat with frigid air conditioning. We actually have to go outside to warm up. I'm glad I brought my great grandmother's quilt to keep me warm in the middle of summer.

How many trips to Wal-Mart does it take to get to Kosovo?

And the answer: Four so far. Over the past couple of days, I have made too many trips to local businesses, making those last-minute purchases before I leave. It occurred to me while I was purchasing my ugly white PT socks that there are a lot of people in North Dakota who are making similar purchases. As I thought of this, I saw a military guy carrying the same kind of ugly PT socks. Well, his haircut tipped him off as a Soldier. His frantic facial expression also gave it away. People who have traveled or dealt with the first year of college dorm life know that look. It's a look of desperation, expressing a sincere desire to not come back to Wal-Mart, but knowing the probability of returning. Poor guy. He looked like he had been there too many times already.

Lucky for we 700 North Dakotans who have been spending too much money at Wal-Mart, we are out of time. The time has come to do what we've been preparing for. I feel relieved. I have grown tired of goodbyes, drained of all possible emotion. I've contemplated what might happen while I'm over there, but I'm ready to just jump in and see what happens.

I will still make a trip to Wal-Mart before it's all said and done. I forgot toothpaste. And a fingernail clipper. Bummer. I guess that makes it five. Did I mention there's a Wal-Mart near Camp Atterbury?

Three duffel bags

I pulled all of the remaining Army gear out of my locker at the armory a couple days ago. I dragged the two duffel bags and rucksack downstairs, placed them in my newly-designated military corner. I sat against the wall to catch my breath for a bit. (I'm not quite in deployment shape yet.) The gear called my name, begged me to empty the contents of my bags and inspect the gear. I can't help it. I'm a trained Soldier who has been brainwashed to take care of my equipment. Some of the stuff, like my gas mask, hasn't been properly maintained since annual training in May. Other gear is newly issued, equally deserving of my attention. So I sat there in my military corner with a rag, a couple of screwdrivers, and my iPod, maintaining the equipment designed to get me through the next year.

When I was first issued my field gear, I almost laughed at how useless it was. I couldn't imagine having a need for a gas mask for anything other than weapons qualification. My first aid kit was just a toy. Things are a little different now. My gear deserves my time. All of the tags and plastic wrapping came off my cold weather gear out of necessity when I worked during the flood. Now my other gear is experiencing the same attention. Things are definitely changing.

Stranger yet is my current life perspective. I think of things in terms of the three duffel bags I am taking with me. My mind is constantly trained on finding a way to bring my entire life with me in these three duffel bags, both literally and figuratively. Of course, I'm realizing as I go that some things will have to be left behind until I return. I can't pack my dogs in a duffel bag, and there is no way to pack my favorite tea bar or coffee shop. But I plan to bring photos of my dogs and a few bags of my favorite tea, with hope that someone will help me replenish my stock along the way.

Welcome

This is my blog. A porthole into my own life from now until I come back from Kosovo. I hope that it will keep everyone back home informed about what is going on in my life while I'm overseas. I also hope that blogging will give me an opportunity to use my journalism skills. Maybe this is a lot to ask of a blog. Maybe not. I am just figuring out how to use this means of communication, so bear with me. I haven't quite defined clear objectives for this adventure. What with operational security considerations and my "shy writer" personality, writing for an audience will take some getting used to. But if you are ready, here we go...