Otherwise entitled: “I Understand, But….”
FEMA’s Maryland Task Force One, Urban Search and Rescue team is training this week in Georgia. My Captain helped get the convoy of supply trucks on the road at the crack of dawn today, and tomorrow, he and the rest of the 80-personnel team follow at an even earlier crack of dawn. He’s leaving the house at 3:00am!
They’ll go by air. Of course, that means packing efficiently, tightly, and lightly. He and his team are professionals, highly trained in their tools and trade. They don’t waste time with extra fluff or baggage.
“I understand, but, you’ll need to have some munchies along for the travel,” I assured.
He assured me they would be fine. The rescue team did not need ‘munchies’.
“I understand, but, you know how unexpected delays can happen and you can barely make your flight, so your men and women won’t have had a chance to hit the airport food court. And sometimes flights don’t serve food,” I argued.
He argued that they would be fine. The rescue team would manage a few hours without food if need be.
“I understand, but, you know how cranky you get when you’re hungry,” I persisted.
He persisted that his team is used to him being cranky. It comes with the territory of herding cats.
“I understand, but, what if the plane crashes in the Appalachian mountains somewhere and you have no food, or water, and end up having to eat your dead. Wouldn’t it be best to be prepared with a goody bag of cookies or something?” I worried.
He raised an eyebrow at me and stated that under no circumstances would his manhood be called into question because he was carrying a goody bag. Apparently Task Force Leaders are not allowed to carry doily-wrapped cookie tins. He kissed me goodnight, checked his alarm one more time, and closed the subject as he rolled over.
My friends, do I seem like the kind of woman who quits easily? Can you even imagine me daunted? Nay, Nay!!
I crept downstairs, got out my mixer and spatulas, and made very manly sounding, high-protein, chocolate-peanutbutter-pecan energy pellets,
…cut them into very no-nonsense cubes…
…encased them in a manly-man metallic tin resembling an ammo box…
Oh I’ll find a way to get them on the plane. You just wait.
Wish me luck!!