Butterflies

I would be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. In a little more than a week I'll be off feeding my post mid-life crisis (it will only be a mid-life crisis if I live to 100) with three weeks digging at Megiddo. When this whole archaeological thing started I told myself I would would take it easy. No more binary blackpetero. I'll study a bit and learn some new things, take it slow and not go overboard. But, true to form, I've taken things to extremes. First the weekend trips all over the country. Then the serious studying, with miles of papers and books and libraries and lectures and grades. Now, three weeks away from home (I do come home on weekends) in the sweltering sun with a bunch of people I don't know, sleeping in a kibbutz room with three strangers (who better not snore). That's nearly a year's worth of vacation from my day job.

Everyone has been more than supportive. The squints, as ever, have embraced my craziness. They tell me how "old people" love miluim because they can just sit back and do as they're told - no decisions, no responsibilities and excavating at Megiddo will be just like this. Still, I wonder if I can do this. Blackwifeo just smiles and brushes away off my doubts and believes in me as ever. Secretly they all just think I'm nuts and are just waiting to hear my moans and complaints.

Reading the instructions and directions don't help. Drink twice as much water as you think you need. Replenish your sunblock ever two hours (Melanoma is no fun), mosquito spray, knee pads, a Marshalltown 45-5 trowel, bring a sweater because it's cold on the Tel at 4:30 in the morning. And you get to pay money for the privilege.

I'm going to give it my best, but I would be lying if I claimed I'm not a little afraid. That's good I suppose.