9/2/90

1000 hrs. It's Sunday. Praise God from Whom all blessings flow!

Some women and children have been flown home. George was probably on that same flight with Jesse Jackson. Are you enjoying our vacation? Me neither. We had more fireworks last night. Some pretty loud booms quite a ways off.

What should I do? Sit and wait, or go for the desert again? I want to leave this place, but who knows how long it will take before we'd be allowed to leave. Bush and Gorbachev are to meet in Helsinki on September 9th. I wish Carol and Randy would be meeting by then. Remember me? This is a long time to be apart. How are the girls? I miss you all.

Time to go up on the roof for some quiet. Carrera is having a rough morning, screaming, crying and having tantrums. She really is spoiled. Makes me miss our angels all the more. Do they miss me? I bet they do. I miss them. They shouldn't be without me this long. It's not right, it's not fair. Is Jesse ready to go back to school? How is everyone at church? Have you been going? Have you been out to John and Dee's? How 'bout Mark and Karen? Did they ever come up for a visit? Did you go to the Haslam reunion? Am I missing anything? I'm missing you. To paraphrase an old Graham Nash song:


Thinking to myself today,
I'm sorry that I went away.
I'm feeling down, what can I say,
I miss you.

The second line is really "I'm sorry that you went away." Guess I'll go to the roof and continue reading Hanta Yo. It's a story, a saga, about an Indian tribe. It's 812 pages. I'm on page 91. I surely don't want to finish reading it in this country, but my hopes aren't too high right now. Later, Bun.

1730 hrs. I didn't end up doing any reading. I wrote mom a letter. I’m writing you one also. Sarah is really doing some serious packing, putting her whole house in a box. So, the women may leave within the week.

     As the sun is setting on another day,
     seems like we're never going to get away.


     Think of the hand
     at the end of your arm.
     Fingers to touch,
     to hold,
     to squeeze.

I better stick to writing your letter, and also that wonderful ditty I've been working on, "Another Lovely F@#ing Day In Kuwait City." Attitude time. What's for supper? If it's soup, then this must be Kuwait. Wasn't that a movie?