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nd the central hall. To inscribe our
holiday card, a scene of a glowing Oval Office exterior bathed in a fresh coating of snow buy newport cigarettes online,
painted by the landscape artist James Blake, I chose Psalm 119, "Thy word is a lamp unto
my feet, and a light unto my path."
For George and me, the holidays were once again the season of receiving lines,
where we spent long hours shaking hands. To manage the receptions, sometimes two in a
single night, Blake Gottesman, George's personal aide, started the practice of counting
how many photos were taken in an hour. During the early parties of the season, we
averaged about fifteen seconds per photo, but as the weeks progressed newport menthol 100s, we marlboro golds, and the ever-
longer lines, would whittle that down to about seven seconds. Each morning our staff
would e-mail around the numbers from the previous night, but even at seven seconds, we
could be standing newport cigarettes for usa, shaking hands, and smiling for hours in a single evening, so that every
guest had a chance to be greeted by the president and the first lady.
For several years during the month of December, I had noticed pain in my left
forearm. I brushed it off as coming from too many hours spent standing and holding my
arm at my side. But this year, the pain continued into the spring, and it escalated after my
hiking trip in Zion National Park. I scheduled an MRI, and the White House doctor,
Richard Tubb, told me that I had a pinched nerve in a cervical vertebra. In August of
2007 the chief of neurosurgery at the George Washington University Hospital scraped

away bone spurs and calcification that were pressing on the nerve in my neck. For the
first time in months, I woke without any pain. Pinched nerves are harbingers of creeping
age, and even though this required surgery, the press interest was not nearly as intense as
when I had a small squamous cell skin cancer lesion, likely the result of too many hours
spent around the Ranchland Hills Country Club pool in Midland, removed from my shin.
One of the White House correspondents caught sight of my postsurgical Band-Aid and
asked me if I had been bitten by Barney.
In 2006, as always, we spent Christmas at Camp David with the girls and much of
our extended family, and George made phone calls to our troops overseas. In November,
following the midterm elections, George had replaced Secretary of Defense Donald
Rumsfeld with former CIA chief Robert Gates. In Iraq, Saddam Hussein's yearlong trials
had concluded; he was scheduled to be hanged on December 30. But that was not enough
to turn the tide of bombings and violence; three thousand American troops had died since
the war began. At this stage cheap dre beats, George was convinced that the United States needed a new
strategy. Many Americans now blamed him for the war; the attacks were shrill and
personal. For popularity's sake, it might have been easier to withdraw U.S. forces, but the
easy course is not always the right one. Instead, George chose to implement a policy
known as "the surge."
On January 10, 2007, h