My brother is coming home on leave from Iraq in a couple of days.  It's going to be nice to see him.  Have a few drinks and play some cards.  It's always funny when he comes home because they aren't allowed alcohol in Iraq, and he always gets really shitty and funny drunk when he comes home.  Last time he ordered some of this bunk-ass absinthe and sent it home so it'd be waiting for him when he returned.  Notwithstanding the bunkness of the absinthe itself, the alcohol content was way up there, and little to say we polished it.  Us Robb's are pretty funny drunks. We it's fun rambling about old times.

I remember when we were just little kids, when we we're going to Westdale Elementary in Saginaw. I was in first grade and he was in Pre-K. We used to get into fights all the time. There were these two book bags that we had and since we were pretty poor, one of the bags was really plain, and the other was this decidely ugly and uncool cheap plaid bag that was totally tattered. We used to fight over whose turn it was to have the plain bag for the day because we didn't like being seen with the plaid one. How ridiculous we were! We always went to the richie schools but always lived in the smallest, poorest section of the school districts. When we moved to Midland it was even worse. We lived in a small two bedroom apartment while all of our friends lived in these huge and gorgeous places that used to make me feel sick to my stomach with envy when I'd walk home from school. Of course we always walked. We would have rather died than be seen dropped off in our old stationwagon. Looking back I feel so foolish thinking that money was such a great thing, and the hell my mother must have put up with raising us alone on what she could. My brother and I used to come home after school and nobody was there to watch us because my mom was at work. She was making just enough money to not qualify for any assistance, and our father was never in the picture so he never sent money. Sometimes we'd forget the key and we wouldn't have anyway of getting in the apartment. Sometimes, if we were lucky, we could climb up to the second floor balcony by stepping on the gas lines that ran up the side of the building. On occassion we could jiggle the sliding door just right and get in. Other times we had to wait in the park. Man those were some hard times. I'm glad I went through it though. I don't know what type of person I would have become if I were one of those people who had everything handed to them their entire life. I don't think I'd have appreciation for anything. How could I, if I never earned it?