I'm still in Hobbs. We are going home tomorrow. I miss my kitty and my poos. Well, one poo. Not really, this whole war thing makes me miss ALL my babies.

I can remember the terrible anxiety I felt in Jan of 7th grade waiting for the war to start. At that point in time, I don't remember having any fear of my own "homeland." But thanks to the events about 18 months ago, there is a large part of me that is "what if-ing" uncontrollably. I keep having these horrible images of someone bombing Dallas and what my poor fur babies would do...kitty is trapped alone in the house and the poos are locked up at the vet. Now, the logical part of me knows that even if there were to be some attack on the US, Dallas wouldn't be the first choice and it wouldn't be before tomorrow night when I can get home and get the poos home where they belong. But still. I don't blame the potheads of the 1960's who just toked all their cares away. War is scary. War is stressful. But, sadly, war is necessary.

I wish all of you are peaceful place to go, even if it's just in your mind.