Trina Letter - I Can't Mooooove

Thursday, November 24, 2005

Hey, Navy:

A battle was fought against the forces of tryptophan, and Good did finally win out over Evil, but there are bodies strewn all over the house, groaning from self-inflicted wounds. Yep, it’s Thanksgiving. Moan.

The picture does not begin to do justice to YM’s usual turkey artistry. It was humongous, juicy, and filling, and we couldn’t begin to finish it. Throw in YM’s stuffing and Danielle’s potatoes and other yummy goodies, and we were barely moving by the end of the night. L/D treated YM and me to a little dinner theater and their singing voices were far more on key than the Phantom, Raoul, and Christine could ever hope to be. Right now, folks are slowly digesting and watching West Side Story. (BTW, I ate a boiled egg in your honor.)

It was a nice day here, but there’s a forecast for the wet stuff tomorrow, so maybe we’ll have something interesting to put in our next letters. YM and I saw that the temps around RTC never got above 5 degrees Fahrenheit today (with wind chill) and you probably got some snow with it. You may not remember this but you spent the first five years of your life ‘enjoying’ Midwest weather just like that. I recall bundling you up so much that when we were done, all that we could see was your nose. Today, the only separating you guys from the Canadian cold coming down from the Artic Circle is a bunch of barb wire on the American border, and barb wire is not known for its insulating properties. Remember your mantra: “Two years in sunny, warm Monterey; two years in sunny, warm Monterey.”

Other than that, not much going on here. Thinking of you always

All my love,
Air Force