War and Peace

The books for my political studies class were on my porch this morning. (I have to give props to Amazon.com which saved me at least $100 on my textbooks this semester). I'm standing out at the mailbox in utter, yet momentary, confusion because the mailbox is empty and I know I heard the mailman stop at my house.

I look up to see the box on my porch and realize I walked right past my mail when I stepped out the front door. Have you ever done one of those tests where you study a picture for 30 seconds and then answer questions about it? I hate those tests, they remind me of how much attention I don't pay. If I ever get raped or pillaged, the officers that take my statement are going to want to strangle me. No, he wasn't wearing a mask. I don't remember what he looked like. But he had on a blue shirt. I think. He smelled like my grandma's drapes. That I know fo' shizzle.

I wouldn't normally be interested in a class called "War and Peace" (as in the verbs, not the ginormous novel) but my new husband (the date on the photo is incorrect, we were married on July 11th of this year) is leaving in September for a year in Afghanistan. He's a Reservist and this will be his second tour. The first time, when we were only dating, he went to Iraq and I'm pretty sure it was the longest year of my life (probably his, too).

Today, I will dive into my new books and learn about war. I don't know how much peace will be in books about the cold war, the war of 1914, and the second world war. All I know is, maybe this class will give some viable explanations of why I'm spending the next year alone.