A journalist observes life in the far north.
I can’t explain it except to say that maybe I am fighting a bug because I have gone to bed rather early the last three nights.
Nothing new to report on the dome. We work. We train. It snows. I came out OK on my taxes, by the way. I am always stunned about the rental payments being considered part of my income. It’s a lot of money, and it sure doesn’t feel like income when all of it is spent on the mortgage, utilities and up-keep at the duplex.
A date night is in the works for Saturday, depending on everyone’s health. Jade had a 103 fever two nights ago and keeps touching her throat. Her appetite remains robust, however.
I have a heavy heart today after writing a story yesterday about three soldiers from the neighboring Army base who died in Iraq. Two of them were only 21. The third is a former school teacher who left behind a wife and two sons.
The father of one of the soldiers returned my call this morning. He was awfully polite and even apologetic for not getting back to me sooner. His sorrow was palpable, so I talked to him for a long time. He told me about his son’s girlfriend up here and asked me to send him copies of the articles in the mail because he doesn’t go online.