I look at my blog every day. Every day I check for new posts. There are normally only three new daily; Boulderneigh, In Stitches, and Old Rose, with the occasional input from Amy at Purple Fuzzy Mittens, and of course posts from Mim at Desert Peach. I always read these blogs but never have time to comment. Just so you know :)
Every day I feel horrible for not posting, although by this time most of my viewers have sought greener pastures.
So in short, I don't have time to do the things I want to do, things that are good for my soul; spinning, knitting, crocheting, and keeping in touch with my friends. Hoping that changes very soon.
Kevin Update:
Kevin started Phase 2 a couple of weeks ago. The way I understand it, this phase is about hiking, backpacking, shooting, grueling hikes, and endless runs. Only 35 days to go!
The last time I posted we had gotten his first letter. A bit has happened since then!
My Father passed on February 10th, thank you, but no condolences please. We weren't very close as I was growing up, well actually I didn't care about him one way or the other from about 12 to my late twenties sometime. He kept himself distant from me for so many years, that I just never developed the 'daughter' bond with him. He was a friend at the end though, and I will miss him. I got to talk to him the week before he had the last stroke, so I feel good about our relationship and how it ended. I truly hope he made his own peace.
In light of his passing, I emailed Kevin's Senior Drill Instructor and left it up to him as to how Kevin would be told. I was at work when he called and missed the call (another reason to be resentful?), Derek got to talk to him. Kevin wasn't able to really chat, and Derek didn't know the reason for his call, but Derek did tell Kevin about his Grandpa, so mission accomplished. I was devastated. I cried for about 10 minutes at work after Derek called to tell me.
Week before last we got another letter from Kevin, a very upbeat 3 page letter that started out telling us how he had come to realize how much he depended on us and how much he missed us. He never got negative about anything, although I'd be willing to bet that he could have, but he told us about his life there and described what he would be going through in the coming 7 weeks. He was looking forward to Phase 2 at Camp Pendleton because they had bananas lol he was craving them.
So a few days ago, at work yet again, I was walking past my phone and my notifier went off. I had missed a phone call. I didn't think anything about it, didn't have time to see who had tried to call, so went about my business. A few minutes later Derek calls me. Bet you can't guess who tried to call!! Yeah, I know... too easy.
Some of you may know what a privilege call is, but for those who don't, occasionally someone in the platoon, or the whole platoon, does really, really well at something or the whole group may have a very good day with good times and no one getting hurt or unable to finish a run, that kind of thing, and the SDI (Senior Drill Instructor) will give the individual or group a reward, sometimes in the form of free time, sometimes in the form of a phone call home. Is the suspense killing you yet? :)
Apparently, that day had been spent on the rifle range. Kevin out shot EVERYONE. Including his instructors :))
He got to chat this time, telling his Dad and sister all about what is going on in his life. Again, I'm feeling abused and neglected lol but as I told Kevin in a letter I mailed off a few days later, it was probably better that way, since I was at work... I would have ruined my make up. Again.
I can't help but feel like fate is keeping me from talking to him, and as I said, I will cry and that's probably not what I should do, even if they are happy tears. Maybe Fate will find a way for me to talk to him at home. I can only hope!
Derek and I were in Elko last week, and while in Gun World, I looked toward the front door and saw this:
I squinted, said to my husband "Is that a chucker?" He said "Nah, I don't think so... wait, yeah that is a chucker. What's it doing here?". The million dollar question lol The guy behind the counter laughed and said there were a few of them running around the area, a strip mall on the hill across the street next to the open field makes good shelter from wind and weather and people feed them through the winter. This guy was sheltering from the wind that day, which was especially cold and blustery. I thought it a bit ironic. Definitely a picture worth a thousand words, even if every sentence has a question mark at the end :)
4 comments:
I'm really sorry you have missed those rare and precious phone calls from Kevin; that's got to be so painful! I KNOW I am blessed to be able to stay home and school Brian, even if I DO think it would be easier to send him to school and clock in at an away-from-home job every weekday. ;-) Thank-you for reading my blog, even if you don't have time to comment often, and know that you're on my heart.
You're doing good Becky! I really can't imagine not being able to talk with my son when I want. Hang in there and please do come visit when you get the time. I miss talking to you.
Well, dang multiple times about your phone call missing(sorry about the wierd grammar). Obviously, you have a lot to be proud of with your boy. I used to go to the beach near Camp P. I hear it's been sprinkling (never rains in SoCal), but still warm. Bet he's not missing the snow!
I laughed out loud about the Chukar. I had the same thing happen to me right after I moved in. I walked out my back barn door, and there was a chukar about 8' away. It was obviously an escapee (or let go-ee), and looking for food. It was so funny, and I remembered all of Allison's husband's tales of chukar hunting. I called him and told him I knew where one was - he thought it was funny too!
Miss you!
I'd love chat with my boys more often but they're both busy, but I know that I can call anytime, and in fact, did chat with my oldest. The fact is that sons tend grow apart from mothers. I wish it were otherwise. It's good to hear that Kevin still likes it.
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