Ode to my mug

Since the new year, we seem to have lost all respect by the Iraqis. Mostly because we can no longer give them material things as of Jan 1. They seem to want very little to do with us since we won't give them anything. My counterpart, after asking my boss for something that I wanted to give him without audience, asked Major Brott why we were here if we won't give them anything. Since he went above my head I plan on giving him absolutely nothing, not even peanuts.
About 70 former Iraqi soldiers take advantage of the opportunity to rejoin the Iraqi Army, when they previously deserted. However, in the IA, it is no problem to merely quit.

My old blue mug. It's been abused, knocked down, spilled, scratched, scraped, the handle is held on with a zip-tie, but to me it's the holy grail.

I get a lot of grief about my mug. Apparently I get quite upset when something happens to it, so I decided to post, "ode to my mug," by jest of Major Brott. I want him and DC to always remember my mug.

All is well, we are getting by. We are busy of course, but I'm sure our spouses are as well. We'll be home soon.

Hold down the home front for us.