I live in a tent (12 April 08).

Since I came up to Baghdad unnecessarily to out-process even though I never really in-processed, I also have been unnecessarily exposed to indirect fire. Thankfully, things have been considerably more peaceful than it has been for the past few weeks, which is good, because I live in a tent. After five years here, we haven’t solved the problem of housing for all the folks we have working here. Most everyone is in trailers- only a select few have hardened shelter. And folks like me, here only temporarily, get put in tents. I am mere feet away from the old palace that serves as the U.S. Embassy (until the late and over-budget Embassy).

If I were smarter, I’d probably do a bit of extra work to find some housing inside the Embassy. My NCO found some when he was here and encouraged me to link up with the same set of helpful Marines. But it has been very quiet, and for right now, I’m fine in my 100 person tent with three people in it. And it has a nice historical feel to it, reminiscent of some great verse in the Book of Mormon, which my children can now repeat with a personal feel to it: 1 Nephi, Chapter 2 verse 15: And my father dwelt in a tent.