At the Starting Line

I'm in the hotel in Dewy Beach as I write this - we arrived around eleven in the evening last night after a drive that took a little longer than expected. Rain pounded us for the first half of the ride and drizzle followed us the rest of the way. We are here safely and its hard to complain - how can I? If my leg hurts I can think about the Wounded Warriors who lost a leg or even both and my whining about a twinge in my knee seems small in comparison. If the weather is uncomfortable I can think about my friends on duty in Iraq, suffering in the heat of another 110+ degree day or those in Afghanistan freezing their butts off on the top of the world. What can I possibly moan about in my cozy life as a civilian? Well maybe Dad's snoring - I know artillery fire is loud, but I wonder if it can compete with a night spent sleeping across the room from a human wood chipper. Seriously though, no complaining for me unless I can pull it off subtly. Of course, my version of subtlety has often been compared with a train wreck, so we'll see how that goes.