The kids and I got a tour of Fort Hood’s military history museum by our family expert on the subject, Uncle Bud. The only thing more amazing to me than his encyclopediatic knowledge of media hardware was John’s depth of understanding. So, THAT’s what he’s looing at during those late night sessions on the internet. Phew.

My high-tech method for determining when power returned to our house? Dial the phone. If the answering machine picks up, we have power. I finally got that answer. So, tomorrow we head for Casa Moger.

In preparation, Kate and I hit the HEB (never Wally World) and stocked all but milk. We will get that on the way back.

The girls don’t have school till Thursday; John returns tomorrow, but won’t be in till Wednesday.

I return to the office upon arrival in Houston (I have a server in my trunk) to get things rolling again.

As for normalcy, that may take some time.

Words fail me in recognizing the enormity of their ultimate sacrafice. Zuzu said, "you aren’t going to go do that, are you dad?". Because there are brave men such as these, I don’t have to, I told her. God bless them.

Our day away in Central Texas wouldn’t be complete without a visit to Peace Incorporated–aka Ft. Hood. John was nearly out of his skin and his Uncle Bud beaming with pride at showing off the museum. The rocket behind him? An Homest John.

Can’t take a road trip to Bubbaville without a visit to the Queen. Yummies for their sweet tummies. Perfect end to a spur-of-the-minute change of plan. They are so much more at ease with the elements back under control.