my life

Dead on my feet, and it's only Thursday morning.

My week began with...hm. It's hard to say it began, really. The end of last week segued into the beginning of this one without any real break.

We had a rather lengthy assignment to complete over the weekend: read seven chapters of Dr. Wayne Flynt's Alabama in the Twentieth Century and write a 300 - 500 word "response" in essay format on five of the chapters. I believe I mentioned before that this is an exceptionally good, interesting, well-written and often entertaining history book, BUT...seven chapters (~300 pages) over the weekend, with essay responses, is still a tall order. The book runs high on facts. It is what you might call "dense" with information. Dense books do not read as quickly as Stephen King (perhaps you've had occasion to make the same observation).

I made it through five of the chapters, and wrote my pieces on them. I didn't read the other two. Neither did I get any weekend at all. I did, at one point, go for a run because we had an unprecedented day of perfect spring weather and sunshine between the ongoing spring storms. Other than that, I spent my whole weekend, y'all, reading a history book and writing in essay form what I thought of the issues.

Meanwhile, I believe I mentioned some weather we've been having. Last Wednesday, I got off work at a decent hour and rushed home, changed into my grubbies, and started trimming the edges of the lawn. Michelle hopped on the mower when she got home and together, we managed to prune the jungle in its entirety before (1) nightfall and (2) the storms, which hit the next day, raining without ceasing until Sunday.

It is that special time of year when dogwoods bloom, along with my...I'm not sure what it is, really. Japanese cherry tree, maybe? It's resplendent in burgeoning pedals, pink and beautiful. Then, in about one week's time, all the pedals fall off and the tiny green leaves take over. It's breathtaking for about seven days a year. I've missed most of this year's enjoyment of it due to thunderstorms.

I keep watching the Coosa River these days. It has risen considerably. I can no longer see the rocks or the lock. It's halfway up the bank and into the trees, and further down 231, I can see how "flood plains" got their name. (As Dr. Keifer, my physical geography prof a few years back, said, "Don't buy a house in a flood plain. They call them that for a reason.") I haven't noticed anyone here being that stupid. You'd have to be exceptionally un-bright to build in a flood plain here; they flood once or twice a year, so you can't even claim you forgot.

So my work week began when it didn't really feel like the last one truly ended. Mondays are rough, because I'm up at 6am, at work at 7, at school from 5:30 to 8:30pm, and usually back in bed around 10. It's just a long day without break, and it wears me down.

Tuesday through Wednesday, I'm filling in for the crew commander, which means I'm up at 5am and at work by 6. Don't forget we just set our clocks forward, too. Maybe I just have jet lag. Y'think?

Tuesday, I took my Physical Fitness Test (finally!). This is a 30-minute test (tops) that is somehow stretched out over 3.5 hours. I did well, but I pushed myself harder than I normally do (of course), and am sore in new and exciting places now. So I finished my workday and went to school (6 to 7:15pm).

Wednesday, I was tired and sore, but I ran because the sun was shining. Then I ran home and began to study for the essay test I'll take in African American History tonight. I studied until 10pm or so, then crashed in exhaustion again.

This morning, I was dragging. Wonder Woman I ain't. At this point, coffee doesn't help much, either. Nothing but sleep will do the trick.

Oh...a few weeks ago, I asked my colonel to extend me here until the summer cycle of '06 so I can finish my degree (pretty please), and by the way, would he write me a letter of recommendation? He agreed to try to get me moved to Summer '06 cycle, and asked for details about the letter. I explained that I was compiling a package to apply to the Academy history department, blah blah blah. He--being the pontificator he is--kicked back in his chair and said, "Several years ago, I had a troop who wanted my recommendation so she could go to the Academy and be an English instructor. I'll tell you what I told her: used to be, this was not a good career move. But she still wanted it after I explained that to her, so I gave her my support. I believe you should pursue what you love. Just so you know...I don't think it's a good career move."

I confirmed that I was just as adamant, so he agreed to write the letter.

Well...Wednesday, I was giving him his morning brief (a crew commander duty). At the end of it, he felt like chatting. Maj Thomas (my crew commander boss and a friend) asked if I'd given Col Quin my good news. I said no, turned to Col Quin and said, "Sir, I got a personal invitation from a Col Harrington, the head of the Academy English department, to go teach English as a direct hire."

Col Quin leaned forward and said, "What was that name again?"

I said, "Col Harrington. Kathleen, I believe."

He smiled, sat back, laced his fingers behind his head, and said, "I believe I was telling you about a troop I had several years ago who had her heart set on being an English instructor, even though I advised against it...."

I said, "Well sir...it looks like it hasn't hurt her career."

I forwarded her email to him when I got back to my station. He sent her this note, CCing me:

Kathleen, I gave Capt Black all the same lectures about career implications of going to teach at the Academy that I gave you all those years ago in Hawaii. But seems she has the same passion for the work that you had. Any chance I could be wrong?

So I was back in at 6am today, and will be studying until I test tonight. There are letters of recommendation and a military resume to write tomorrow before I go home, then a paper (or two) to write over the weekend.

This week will never end. But it's all good.

d