My husband is in the field all this week. They are firing all the various weapons they've been learning how to use. This normally would mean no phone calls for me, but my husband took his cell phone out into the field with him so I was actually able to talk to him on Monday night. I was lifeguarding at the pool so it wasn't really a good time to have a long conversation though. Plus he had a horrible signal and had to be quiet as well because it was rack time so I could barely hear him for most of the conversation. Hearing his voice just made my day though.

It's rather strange but I actually miss getting letters from my husband. When he went to boot camp all we had were letters and officer's training we relied mainly on letters with an occasional phone call. Now that he has a chance to call me at the very least twice a week, I'm finding that I wish he still had time to write me. Don't get me wrong. I love being able to talk to him on the phone, there's nothing better than hearing his voice and know that at that very instant he's okay. It's scary to think about the families of armed forces killed in the "sandbox" who still get letters even after the official notice. When you get a phone call there's no wondering about what has happened to them in between the time they wrote the letter and the time that you got it. But there's something wonderful about letters. They're tangible. You can hold them, see them, and smell them. And if you're ever feeling down you can always re-read them. Things that a phone call just can't do. I guess what I'm saying, to use a very old cliché, is that I want to have my cake and eat it too.