Byrdmouse is a devoted husband and father that says what's on his mind even if no one else agrees with him.

In fact, especially if no one else agrees with him

Pork You

I have arrived at the next stage of my adventure, getting here was its own adventure and will be the subject of several posts as I transition to the new blog I mentioned in my last post. But first, a quick note to tell you where I am.

Those who know me would not be surprised to know that before I allowed the Corps to transition me to the Mississippi Coast Resident Office I verified that it wasn't named the Gulfport Resident Office. The fact that at the time it was in Orange Grove, a long ago annexed part of Gulfport, was less of a concern because even now that it's located at the Stennis Space Center (last stop on I-10 before the dimension shift also known as LA state line) the official location listed is Biloxi.

Along that same vein, before I seriously considered a move to Afghanistan, I verified that pork products would be available. This morning I had a sausage biscuit with a bacon chaser. And I don't mean that turkey bacon stuff, they have that, but that's a last resort.

The increased security, concertina wire atop the fence outside my office window, concrete T-walls around everything aside, it could be easy to forget I'm in an active combat zone. This morning at the DFAC (that's dining hall for the un-acronym minded) I saw a frail woman. She was super thin, slightly wrinkled, drawn face with wispy, thin, un-coiffured blond hair. She was wearing what passes as heels around here, slightly higher than my combat boots but much smaller area, not stiletto sized, but smaller. As she passed by my table I couldn't help but notice that on her hip was a 9 mm handgun in a military holster. Frail or not, this woman won't take crap of anyone and is ready for it.


Getting There's Half the Fun

New Adventure