http://sgtgrumpy.blogspot.com/2007/09/smile-of-child_29.html


First Name:Sergeant
Last Name:Grumpy
Email:Sergeant.grumpy@gmail.com
Member since:08 Sep 2007
Bio:
Sergeant Grumpy is a Paratrooper in the National Guard who returned to service after 9/11. In civilian life he builds software for large government agencies and corporations. Despite what Jon Carry thinks he did graduate (summa cum laude) from college, and has many other options. He chooses to serve not in spite of those options, but because of them.

JMJ

I am making mail. Yes, making mail. I received a packet of letters from a letter swap I do with other troop supporters and I am copying them three more times so that I can have enough for all of those I support. I can't help it. I just can't leave anyone out. I don't know who the most needs to feel another human is aware of their existence and is glad they were born and so I am making mail for all of them.

I am fully aware it may mean far more to me than it does to them, but I am also congnizant that there may be some for which an envelope full of concern--of humanity---may mean a great deal. Since I can't determine which of my troops are the former and which are the latter...it's MAIL FOR EVERYONE!!

There are monks today--halfway around the world in Burma standing up for peace and being spirited away to be hurt, jailed or killed because peace is what they want. Last I saw, 100 had disappeared during demonstrations today though the numbers have been shifting. I am sure it is their intention to have an impact, but I also think that these men realize that they must stand and be witness for the world and themselves whether there is an impact or not. The act of demonstrating has quiet power and the impact of these demonstrations shifts power quietly. Like those two words each is a part of the other. These monks must feel compelled-- no matter the outcome-- to participate in life, to have expectations of life and to act on those expectations whether they share in the good product of their endeavors or not.

I am making mail tonight.

JMJ

I think St. Augustine once said: Love is an act of the will. I believe it. What he fails to mention (ahhhhhhhh it's always in the fine print--isn't it??)is that the exertion of the aforementioned will can at times be daunting. You have to know yourself and be content with yourself to love. It can sometimes be amazingly difficult and require great courage to keep offering yourself to those you care about.

I have had the good fortune to have found great friendships over the course of these last few years, especially and an even greater fortune in who I married. The gifts that come from each relationship are a varied as the people themselves. One common denominator,in all them (though, I am sure there are more)is the presence I try to offer to the friendship. Failing at this is generally connected to stumbling over pride or self preservation.

For some reason it it hard to remember consistently to not bank a sense of self from the interaction with those I love. Though I can guess that this is a common occurence in all relationships. Even more daunting is to hear from a respected friend or spouse something which suggests what you offer is not valuable or no longer as valuable or just plain damn wrong. You can sucked into chasing those like rocks thrown in the bushes instead of holding fast to your own sense of self which is in fact one's first true love and for most us--the hardest person to love in the first place.

I think when you finally learn to love yourself then making that effort to care for someone else becomes less of a risk no matter how well recieved that effort is.

There are times when I run into idiocy trying to be passed off as legitimate thought process. They think because they put the crap on a plate and serve it with parlsey I am supposed to go YUUUUUM. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot!?

When crap like that happens sometimes I count on the hysterically funny so I don't have to pay as much attention to people full of the crap--- who,so full--they can't legitimize said crap unless they get someone else to look it over and say....Oh nooooooo that's not crap...that's my supper.

I am irritated enough to have had a couple of rum and cokes and lucid enough to count on video like this which proves that not everyone takes themselves seriously all the time including badass, hardcharging Marines.

JMJ

Today is baking day. One Marine, in an outfit we support, wrote that brownies from home have been known to incite knifefights...lol...yeah like Marines aren't already bellicose enough I don't mind throwing in some baked goods into the mix...I think I will want some pictures of that.

With being fortunate enough to hear from one of the Marines I support, I am struck by how you can develop the elements of a relationship you have with your family or dear friends. You worry a little, if they don't get back to you in the usual time frame. You know what time it is there, worry about Ramadan and all the implications that has for all of them there...what with the gates of hell being closed and acts in the name of Allah having 10,000 more times the impact during this holy season and all.

I wonder how many emails that man has to answer from supporters? They must mark for him the worlds we live in being so, so divergent. He mentions mortar attacks like we would tell someone the cable is out. I tell him to be careful like his riding his bike on the big street for the first time and not like he is about to ride his bike on the big street with the snipers.

Women tend to support more than men. I think expect it speaks to our general ability or instinct to nurture--- Read here: fuss over, nag to be careful, and demand details--did I mention fuss over?

We were at a fieldtrip yesterday and I had another look at the girl/boy tendencies which anecdotally played themselves out in support of my argument here. So hell yes, I am going to use them here.

Well actually--I wasn't planning on making these observations. What started it was noticing the way one of the older girls carried my son. She did it on one hip thrown out with the ease of a mother used to simultaneously carrying and explaining and encouraging participation in her charge.

It just struck me. The girls sheperded the littler ones, slinging them on hips, giving drinks etc. and when it was time to clean up they wiped tables and the brochure stand was well picked over as they gathered pamphlets. The boys were fascinated with the projector and tried hard not to make bird signs on the screen and were most excited about touching an alligator (a baby one, but they didn't seem concerned with size as much as they were its potential) and collected trash from an activity.

It starts early. I won't tie into the nurture versus nature debate. I am not even sure where I stand on it--but I am fascinated by the stereotypes. I won't lie. I think most hold the world stereotype by its antennae or back leg so as to suggest they themselves would never stoop so low as to have one, but---geez... gimme a break --we all do and we do because there is some basis for them.

Men and women are different. We do see things by and large, differently. If we didn't than Marines out in the Anbar province, who never put their rifles down, wouldn't be getting brownies soon.

Ben Stein's Last Column...For many years Ben Stein has written a biweekly column called "MondayNight At Morton's." (Morton's is a famous chain of Steakhouses known tobe frequented by movie stars and famous people from around the globe.)Now, Ben is terminating the column to move on to other things in his life. Reading his final column is worth a few minutes of your time.

Tim Lambert, a homeschool lobbyist here in Texas, perhaps a bit too conservative for my tastes, though I admire his dedication to his work, once likened running a homeschool group to herding cats. I just read a post from a friend who took it another step further...homeschool leaders (among otheres) as sheperds of cats. I love the visual poetry of this...definitely going to be thinking about this today. It totally messes with a hymn we sing at Mass sometimes, not because it changes the meaning of the hymn-- just the perspective. I mean "cats" instead of souls seems a bit more on the mark when you think about it. Cats are independent,needy, recalcitrant, suppline, high strung and laid back. A general and generally loveable pain in the ass. All things God/the Universe/Gaia-- whomever you give the nod to, would see on a regular basis.

Shepherd of souls, refresh and bless
thy chosen pilgrim flock
with manna in the wilderness,
with water from the rock.

We would not live by bread alone,
but by thy word of grace,
in strength of which we travel on
to our abiding place.

Michael Totten is an independent reporter who imbeds with military units in Iraq and posts to his site. If you are sick of CNN and all the other big media, he and Michael Yon, another indie reporter and any of the milblogs on the link list are good places to start getting a sense of what is really going on in Iraq. The following articles and pictures, the first about the battle for Ramadi and the second about the people there, are well worth the read.

Okay...I can't stand it!! LOL I see from my site meter that there are quite a few people reading this blog...wow...ya'll are coming from all over the world...leave a comment will ya? I'd love to see your blog...or not...I know sometimes its nice to lurk, too. That's c0ol...Thanks for reading though! I am such a noob--- is it even proper to acknowledge that you are being read or I am supposed to be virtually aloof? Never mind-- don't tell me...I wouldn't follow the rules anyway. I blog because obviously, I can't/won't shut up and I consider it a way of taking the load off my friends--...back to the regularly scheduled programming. Namaste.

http://thunderrun.blogspot.com/2007/09/web-reconnaissance-for-09172007.html

Been trolling the milblogs lately and this was a link to The Thunder Run from another blog called Eighty Deuce. I liked how they compiled a list of recet news stories. Btw---if you get a chance and want a chuckle, also read Eighty Deuce's entry called 'Attack of the Demon Dog...'--hilarious
http://airborneparainf82.blogspot.com/2007/08/attack-of-demon-dog.html Eighty's a young guy and you can hear his youth and the kind of wisdom war gives in the same breath.

It was a really fast day today. I spent it shuttling kids to lessons, scouts, and making sure they did their lessons. I packed lunch, made supper, cut and filed coupons, went to the library and did some shopping. I still need to read some material for a gathering tomorrow and clean up the kids schoolroom. Nothing like company to motivate me through sloth...

I talked to a friend today about how much we fill our heads with or how we cope with how much we fill our heads with...I mean it never really gets in there unless we put it there right? I sometimes think that this is inherently a woman's burden. Men seem to have a feeling and leave it to its own devices...we get a feeling and want to raise it.

It is often striking to me how we can percieve things so differently and then I remember how what we pour into our heads about who we are, what we do and whether it is any good, can be so differentfrom one another-- that the perceptions we have of what is going on around us would have to be different,too. It makes sense, but it is still such a clusterfuck.

It reminds of of Plato's Cave Allegory. How one, unenlightened and shackled in the cave, would feel once he came into the sun and saw more than mere shadows and echos of things presented to him inside the earth. Socrates talking to another philosopher Glaucon said of it:

Last of he will be able to see the sun, and not mere reflections of him in the water, but he will see him in his own proper place, and not in another; and he will contemplate him as he is.

It was a rough piece of text to get through the first time, but what I remember then and what it calls to mind now is how someone must feel when they know and accept the truth about themselves and why that time happens to each of us so uniquely and at such different rates of time.

This is rough cut...gonna think about it some more---maybe.

Try to watch this through. It's powerful--about people, not the war.

I love this video...it cracks me up. Since I am messing around with some of the features on this blog I thought I would try it out and put this one up.

Hope

This is what 400.00 worth of groceries looks like. I spent 64.00. Amongst the rest of this are about 150 canned goods, a year supply of kleenex--33 boxes, a dozen jars of spaghetti sauce and bottles of handsoaps, 4 100ct Excedrins, a dozen cereal boxes and post it note paks, 4 lipsticks, 2 dozen boxes of snack bars, 18 cans of refrigerated rolls and tubs of catfood, a dozen juice bottles, flour, sugar and oranges. I know I am missing stuff, but you get the picture. I made out like a bandit!

JMJ

This is dedicated to my dear friend, Ken.

I was flying into Houston the other day and spent most of it gazing out the window at the storms that blew in and around us. I noted how, gently, the massive engines lifted us and dropped us from dark to light, from storm to calm again and again.

People were reading their magazines or listening to movies on their laptops and all the while the Sun was using the clouds as his canvas. Their colors alternately shifting from his attentions to the jealous Rain's.

I wanted to be a pilot at that moment.

I wanted to have a job that tangibly reminded me everyday how quickly things can change.

How beautiful the world is.

How like the weather, emotions move over you--and if you are paying them any heed, you are enriched.

To be reminded that pushing our way through stormy darkness is so much closer to the glide we take through the Bright Blue than it sometimes would seem.

Poem 42

n
OthI
n
g can
s
urPas
s
the m
y
SteR
y
of
s
tilLnes
s
-- e. e. cummings

Kismit.

I love that word. It evokes magical, silvery stuff.

I was on a website today, by fluke actually, as I thought I had already been to this site and was deleting a double link I had made here. Anyway--I hadn't linked at all and so I was backtracking and found this great site with a plea posted today to reach out to our vets back in the states from overseas who are wounded physically and mentally.

The post was detailed I thought--- geez I am not familar with any of these acronyms...I went ahead and posted to find out what I could do one way or the other and mentioned this young man, whom another friend helping with a deployment we have through our homeschool group, had mentioned on our forums. Seems this young man is getting no mail and has lost the use of his legs.

Okay, okay-- long story short these folks on that board posted back immediately , wanting to know all his specifics. Incidentally, the note my friend gave me concerning this Lance Corporal also gave permission to post at will. In a few seconds I went from having mailed him a letter this week and feeling ineffective to finding this conclave of citizens ready to act! Who knows how many more will read his addy and send him their love and admiration.

He will be getting visitors this weekend. Amazing.

It was all so sudden and seamless-- I keep searching for more words and they don't come...what I see is silvery light and what I feel is these people's spirits wrapping around this young man.

It was kismit. This experience has reminded to speak up. It has reminded me how valuable and powerful asking a question and just wanting to help can be. This has been so kindly humbling.

LCpl Perez, Jose Ivan
7400 Merton Minter blvd
Audie Murphy VA Hospital
Spinal Cord Injury UnitD026 Bed A
San Antonio, TX 78229

I just saw this on another blog.

I never knew the words...it reminisces a lullaby for the world.

Taps

Day is done,
gone the sun,
from the lakes
from the hills
from the sky,
all is well,
safely, rest,
God is near.

Fading light,
Dims the sight,
And a star
gems the sky
Gleaming bright,
From afar,
Drawing near,
Falls the night.

Thanks and praise,
For our days,
Neath the sun
Neath the stars
Neath the sky,
As we go,
This, we, know,
God is near.

JMJ

It's midafternoon, I am hitting a wall--that wall you hit when you don't sleep well the night before and you wake up a little hungover without the benefit at least enjoying those Jack and Sevens which normally deliver this kind of payback. It's that time of day when your brain is full of worthy things...at least worthy to you and you want to put things in their most optimal space and yet know that they won't stay put unless you switch gears and get over the hump...it's an antsy kind of sensation...work dulls it and I am doing that...alas I am a little dull myself from the lack of sleep--I thought some time blogging would fire up the synapses and give me the momentum I need.

Around 3 am, I am past agitated that sleep won't pay me a visit and then I think I self perpetuate the sleeplessness. ...it's kind of a vicious cycle...can't sleep...read...what I read promotes thought which promotes wakefulness...can't sleep...write, blog, clean house, look in on my little guys girl, look at the idiot box which promotes more wakefulness.


As I am writing I suddenly remember a dream I had when I finally crawled into bed with Tony this morning and drifted for a minute--you know those 5 hour dreams you have in 5 minutes and wonder how you could cram it all in???It was like that. He pulled me into him and murmured something about being still and everything being okay because he was right there and I found my spot on his shoulder and drifted and went somewhere. The clock read 3:06.


I was on our freeway in a car with some speed. I was driving a stick and I could feel the adrenalin and a sense that this was some sort of gauntlet I was running. I kept avoiding them and they kept coming at me. I saw people's faces and cars moving in a false time that had nothing to do with the universe I was in and moving through in this fast car. Someone was sitting next to me backseat driving, but there was that satellite delay amount of time where I knew it before they did and I wanted to tell them to just shut up or I wouldn't be able to finish this . The whole time I knew I wasn't going to wreck and yet felt the fear you feel because you think you are...it called to mind while I was still in the middle of this dream the real moments I have of learning to drive....using every trick Pop taught us out in NM where we learned to drive. We learned what he thought we should know about cars. Probably more than he wanted us, too.

He would sit on the passenger side with one of us behind the wheel and lull us into a false sense of security and then BAM!! He'd shout while he yanked on the wheel for all he was worth, "your tire blew out! your tire blew out!! What are you going to do to get outta this bar ditch!?!?! Turn into it. Turn into it!"...Naturally, I always had something smartassed to say, but I never actually did. I just learned how to drive, how to handle this machine when it wasn't going along nicely in a well determined direction, how to do it without peeing myself.

When I woke up it was 3:17. I startled and Tony brought me something to drink and we must have gone back to sleep.

JMJ

So my dear friend gives me a sage stick so I can cleanse the house a bit. I had had a rough couple of weeks and I thought it would help.

Yesterday, she was coming over, so I wanted to use it one more time before I gave it back...I lit that puppy up and commenced with the cleansing..

Several minutes later...
Tony: Babe, what's that?
Hope: I am saging the house.
Tony: Ohhh...
Hope: Why?...as I am noticing an odor reminsicent of the smell wafting out of houses on Frat Row on particularly rowdy nights in my university days
Tony: Umm... well it smells, it smells like......pot.
Hope: It does, huh?
Tony: Maybe it will go away.
Hope: Maybe. Oh gosh.. thinking about those about to come over in a few hours... I hope so. We are have company coming over soon. I have got to go to the store. I'll be back.

I get in the car and notice that now I smell like a reefer queen myself. Damn. I go back in and find some body spray.

Spray. Spray. Spray.
Sniff. Sniff.
Damn.
Now I smell like a reefer queen who is trying to hide that fact with body spray. Screw it, I gotta go!

So now I am in the store and have rather forgotten the whole thing in the few minutes it takes me to get to the store. As an aside, I have, it seems and have passed to my children, as well, the short term memory of a gnat.

It comes back though when a man in a muscle shirt, who looks as though he is either looking for a toking buddy or already has one at the house, is grabbing a shopping cart nearby and bumps into me. We exchange those brief hellos that proximity demands and then I get THE LOOK.

Damn.
I forgot about the pot.
Well this insures that I'll meet everyone I know from the distant or near past who likes to hug hello.

Fast.
Move fast, I think.

And I do. I move through the store not like I have been smoking pot, but like I have been on some excellent non-OTC stimulant.

When I get to the check out I decide to switch lines.

This other line has fewer people.
This other line has an express limit.
This other line has...awww--- that man! There's that shopping cart guy again.

He's smiling.
He's looking into my basket with

the chips,
the cookies,
the pizza snacks,
the mixers and soda...
Uh huh
I can see it in his eyes and smile--- that "Uh huh..."

Damn.

JMJ

Okay so I didn't post about 911 yesterday. I thought about 9/11 yesterday. Where I was when it happened, how I felt and I have read some good blogs about it...enigma4ever is a new one I am really liking...

Anyway...I am fully aware that my reaction to things is generally on the aggressive side. It was then...A Fedex mama was delivering a package to me at the moment I turned on the set and watched the second plane hit the tower...I remember being flabbergasted and then-- MAD. A slew of expletives and my being rooted to the floor by the front door actually drew her into the room to see what I was looking at. We both stood there. I am sure I didn't look like someone who could cuss like a sailor--- she was so surprised she stepped into the front foor to see what had set me off. I felt such anger and horror and anger again. I wantd a piece of somebody right then and there.


Over the next few days I didn't feel introspective or hear any words in my mind that felt remotely wise or made any more sense to me than...those dirty motherfuckers...oh we have to get them. We just have to get them. I know had I been single or married, but not nursing two children , I would have been at a recruiting station that day.

I worry that sometimes I shouldn't be so reactive about this. Because I am not reactive in all things--well I mean... I tend to be in some sort of vigilant stance I guess...or so I have been told. lol But I don't walk around in a perpetual rage...

I don't even know if it was the way I was raised or because I have some extra scrappy gene I inherited. Come on I am half Mexican and half Scotch Irish...I guess I could get all stereotypical and say I never had a chance...but it is probably some variation of all these things.

I am not afraid of a conflict, NO--not just for it's sake---I just hate bullies is what I mean. I hate them. With a passion. And as long as I am using the word-- I also hate to see people walking or being lead around in an unconscious haze. Have you ever looked at people in a Walmart line? Shudder...

I guess on a huge scale I see these terrorists like bullies. Then I see that people, especially now, after 9/11, see us as bullies. It's ironic. I vaccillate between putting my dukes up and knowing that if we weren't swaggering around in the world community to the point that someone wanted to put some planes into buildings we wouldn't be putting our up dukes...noooo...I take that back--that can't be entirely true.....

I went to 18 schools growing up in 7 states...a school is a world microcosm..you have your Switzerlands, your Third World countries and then the Superpowers...such as they are...and even if you weren't a bully, if you gave any sense of strength or weakness for that matter-- there would be some kid who wanted to test the fences...someone jockeying for position-- all trying to establish themselves and all with different motivations.

In a predominantly Hispanic school, I would be considered white and in a white school I was considered Hispanic--though in either case the other group never seemed to know exactly what to do with me...dunno why I included this--it must be relevant in some way? dunno...if anything you can consider it a little bit of trivia...

I think the problem with all of this is when we, as citizens use the word "we" it is a different "we" from the "we" that positioned us in the world "we", live in now. Can we join the Trilateral Council and sign up to join the boards of Fortune 500 countries? No. Can we birth ourselves into well positioned families at will? No.

But the answer is yes to all these other questions and those like it.

Can we vote? Can we participate in local government? Can we support our troops and insist on their fair treatment upon their return? Can we fly our flag? Can we check in on our neighbors? Can we carpool? Can we recycle? Can we stop shopping solely at Walmart? Can we just freaking slow down and read what is going on? Can we think? Can we consciously act?

We have to do all these things. The other "we" is counting on us not to do any of those things...to just be sheep. We can be, if we want...sheep I mean...but you know what happens to sheep.

JMJ

There was a song with lyrics...

You may ask yourself, how did I get here?

that has been going through my head all morning and I'll be damned, if I can't remember the rest of this song...can't check just now, but I'll come back to this later...my day is shot to hell and it's not noon...this brief moment blogging is time totally stolen...

Hope

Was there really 21 items on that last list? I feel like I am carrying the proverbial cow up the mountain at the moment. Though its my dumb cow. I can put it down if I want to. Right? But I don't want to put my cow down...not at the foot of the mountain...I want to get up there! I want to see some adapt and overcome action going on here. Ever notice how anytime you want to start feeling sorry for yourself you can find at least 6 dozen odd folks with wagons way more full of rocks than your own? IT kills my whinefest everytime. It blows. I'd just as soon whine a little...nah I guess not really...I mean--it isn't very efficient...I like doing it here because I can look at the crap in black and white and say to myself self, "oh for chrissakes-- get over yourself woman! Do what you have to do and quit bellyaching...Don't make me come in there..."

Okay I am glad I had this nice little chat with myself.

I sent this letter out as a contribution to a postcard swap I do with other platoon moms on a military support site...I haven't had time to post but, I thought it would be fun to put it here too, it was addressd to any service member as we are copying twenty and sending them to a central site where someone sorts and we wind up with 20 different ones to send on to our guys...pretty cool huh? I wonder who thought of that...

JMJ


This is a letter about vacations…It should have some pictures and cool anecdotes, but well I don’t have any we are moving and everything is packed up sooo…. Instead I have some family stories that make us laugh Jack and Seven through our noses, if the teller tells it right. You probably did have to be there, but here goes anyway…

Let me preface this: Vacation is a tough one for me. I find myself wanting to be sarcastic about what the word must really translate to…I mean who are we kidding? Sure, sure lots of people have perfectly respectable, little umbrella in the glass of pink whatever kind of experiences…I can dig it. But we didn’t. I still don’t. Bitter? NO. Sooner or later I will get that great vacation…..lol…but now I realize what all those vacations--unreasonable facsimilies thereof, were for…they were so that I could maybe give someone else a little chuckle—maybe??? dunno….blessedly, I have no pictures for the following descriptions.

Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Grand Canyon Car trip aka God Help Us All….

In summer prior to my sophomore year of highschool, Pop thinks we all need to go out to Grand Canyon. So he packs like an OCD camper on crack for the foray. We take our workout routines, Coach Leonard* gives us for Cross Country and we are off.

* oh that man---think Former Marine, Bantee rooster, run til you puke. “PT! PT! PT! PT! Good for you ! Good for you! Good for me! Good for me!” Get the picture???…okay more on that later…

Anyway-- we have successfully kept my middle sister off beans and pickles for the last 48 hours, prayed that the sing alongs will be brief or altogether forgotten, get into a baby crap yellow station wagon and hit I 10. We make it to Ft. Stockton, Texas. What you may ask is relevant about Ft. Stockton? Nothing really. Think South Central Texas. A place that can’t make up it’s mind whether it is the hill country, desert or the end of the Rockies…

So we get to camp site…unpack the car that looks like we are a family of gypies about to set up a market any minute and get ready to strike camp.

Pop does his Great Santini bit marshaling the troops, barking orders and cussing the BBQ pit fire that the wind keeps trying to blow out.---which of course is the first tip off…The second is this pure cowboy type man, skin weathered to leather, climbing out of a pickup/camper in the slip next ours and tipping his hat as he walks around to sit on his back bumper with his hands shoved in his bluejean jacket pockets with squinty eyes on the horizon and of course, on the crazy family parked next to him…

Papa in the meantime is still barking and trying to beat the sunset so isn’t really paying attention to the wind picking up and the clouds moving in fast and low over the middle of nowhere or to any of us who are also mentioning said clouds. “Umm Pop, I think it’s gonna…” “ Don’t think.” “No one asked you to think.” “Okaaaaaaaaaaaay.”

The man on the bumper smiles at us and my pop mutters something under his breath about why the idiot next to us isn’t setting up. Pretty soon and just short of him breaking out the cattle prod, we get the tent up and are looking for rocks to hold the paper plates down—another really bad sign.

Papa is pretty pleased with himself and is about to sit down when we feel the first drop. And then the second. And then a plate goes flying and another thereafter. Not because a central Texas thunderstorm is coming through, nooooooooooo, but because we, the pogues, had failed to find a big enough rock to hold them down. Amidst his diatribe on the laws of physics, we hear a snap and watch a tent pole javelin itself across the park and before he can ascertain whose tent setting up skills require remediation, the whole rest of the tent turns into a sail worthy of the World Cup which also flies across the park, followed closely by the rest of the plates, dinner cups and various condiments.

Pop is hot. My sisters and I are laughing our asses off which further adds to his consternation and absolute belief we somehow orchestrated a weather system just to tick him off. Amidst the melee we notice the guy who had been sitting on the back of his pickup truck, who was watching all the entertainment, is now sitting in his cab enjoying the show---dry.

Mom, miraculously, dissuades Pop from ordering an offspring-led picnic item recon across the park and we all head to the showers. When we come back, we pile into the car that Papa has thrown everything into in a very un-The Great Santini way I might add---and as we pull out of the park, the sky has cleared to this dusky magenta and the old cowboy has his fire started, a thermos of coffee lazing in his lap and from the chair and cooler footrest now set up near the back door of his camper, he smiles and waves us goodbye.

I think we wound up at a rest stop somewhere between there and Van Horn.

We ate cereal out of a box that night and learn the next morning that it takes exactly 3 hours and 18 minutes for a Chevy upholstery insignia to wear off your face.

Would that hell could freeze over…

I think this was a couple of years later…I had a grandma who’s driveway did not go to the street…heck her driveway was not even paved, but I digress…so The Great Santini is at it again…we are all headed to the Colorado for some time in the mountains …Pop is up bright and early and decides for this 10 day camping trip we need three changes of clothes. What? “Nope,nope, nope. Everyone needs to repack.”---our translation…take anything that suggests you have a scintilla of geographical sense out of your bag.

Ummm, but we are going to be in the M-O-U-N-T-A-I-N-S. We learned about altitude when we went to the Grand Canyon and tried to run Coach Leonard’s freaking blueprint o’ suicide road work. Can you say sea level training elevation vs. Rocky freaking Mountain training elevation?---yuh- neither could we…we couldn’t speak for the lack of oxygen. Pop liked to drop us off during the day trips and pace us with the car…elevation took on a deeper meaning after Grand Canyon…it would have served us well in freaking Colorado had it been allowed to!!

But the Great Santini spoke and so while I compliantly repacked with my younger sister, my middle sister who would be blowing off her appointment to West Point in a few years to enlist in the Airforce, decided that she might have to rethink that directive, you know---for practice.

So there we are in the woods, Grandma is sitting in the stationwagon waiting for Sasquatch and we are all sitting around a campfire freezing our asses off. Papa is saying all we need to do is get moving a bit and things will warm up and pretty soon like a bunch of flatlanders, smoking the crack we must have saved from the last cartrip, we start jumping around trying to get warm…Quietly, Amy, said family rebel, goes to the car and explains that Sasquatch isn’t due for another hour or two so grandma will open the car door. She pulls out her sweatsuit and looked at Pop about to blow an eyeball from an ensuing apoplectic seizure and with an absolutely flat face and said, "You said to repack our bag so I did. I packed the rest of my stuff under the seat…” Sometimes, I look back on her whole adolescence and am amazed she made it to adulthood.

Present day…
I go places, but I would never call them vacations…Mothers can’t call them vacations. Some don’t even call themselves mothers when they are on vacation…I prefer cruise director. It’a fancy way to say customer service agent--brutalized customer service agent. You sit in a car with the kiddos and the dh who drives while you settle fights, monitor for barf face, dive for toys that mysteriously disappear into places a grown man wouldn’t put his hand into---that is, between the seat cushions of any vehicle that transports children on a regular basis. You also are charged with screening on a moment by moment basis whether said kid really has to pee or is just bored and determining who is touching/looking at who and deciding where we are stopping to eat and offering general, unsolicited navigational advice that begins with, “Well, Honey, maybe we should stop and ask…”

I don’t mind venturing out with the kids, I just don’t delude myself and call it a vacation…a reunion, a trip, a journey…fine. a vacation is where you pack for leisure--not for an evacuation.

Right now my trips to airports include leaving the house with my mommy kit full of vials of boo boo cream, first aid stuff and a Swiss army knife. Which of course, I forget I even have in my huge bag because I have four kids who regularly need that kind of stuff…when I don’t remember--- some airport guy, who looks at shoes all day is finally rewarded with some action. He visibly has to refrain from Barney Fifing his pants, sniffing and gets to ask me “Ma’am would there be any reason for carrying a knife in your bag”? “Ummm... Noooo,” I say--- a little distracted by the 3 year old trying to xray himself on the belt…Barney then looks at me like he asked me if I had been having Cheetos and I had just blown said Cheeto dust on him while denying the very idea… Then I look at husband, who I swear is pointing at me sideways with his head and talking to the guy with his eyes all big and his teeth clenched like he has never seen me before IN HIS LIFE. Hand smack to forehead….”Oh yeahhhhhhhhhhh," I say, “…that knife—you know as opposed to the machete I have in the diaper bag…well why didn’t you say so? You know... it also has a handy nail file, corkscrew, toothpick, scissor and mini saw…it's pink for goodness sake." Barney is umbemused.“Yes, yes of course you have to confiscate it…now what about this machete?”

Tony and I get on the plane and realize things would have been really bad, if we hadn’t thought to shake down the the kids’ bags before we left…Jake had like 9 foot of bike chain (a ten year old mind is not something I will be exploring at this moment:::shudder) that he had carried up on the train to Chicago …knife and chain??? Ack.….we would have all been on the 10 oclock news that night…

So for now we just love playing with our kids and going to the beach and having friends over for get togethers and parties…we make a mean Margarita…we just don’t make plans for vacations…Ya’ll take care of yourselves and each other. We keep you in constant thought and prayer and hope your boots are on US soil, soon. If anyone deserves a real vacation, it is you.

Traveling mercies, my friends.
Traveling mercies.

Hope S. in Texas.

JMJ

So I have been thinking that it is time to get back to lists. For staying on top of things I mean. Iused to use them all the time and a big ass calendar on the fridge I used one of those too...why do we stop doing things that are effective and sometimes seem to keep up with stuff that just puts rocks in our wagons? It's assinine and yet a fairly normal state of things for me at times...

I need lists for classes to go to and classes to hold, shopping and couponing, assignments for the kiddos and for my Marines shopping, for my homeschool group and my coupon group...IT sounds overhwelming but it isn't when I keep a list going...right now I fly by the seat of my pants and while I get things done I am feeling scattered. The week was a wild ride, mentally it kicked my ass and yet there were some bright spots.

Writing has been really helpful. I seem to be doing it all the time these days...I was in the middle of this blog and cooking at the same time...somehow dh got online and when he logged off my unfinished post went down with him...oh well...I had more time to think about what needs to happen and so for the week here I go:

1. I need to put up the curriculum I am not going to use and leave out what I am going to use.
2.Mini Packages need to go out to 1st Sgt Mike and lcpl Owen. (I get the impression 1st Sgt is a big papa bear where his grunts are concerned so I need to make sure I send him some things solo or he probably won't keep any of the stuff from the big box I am prepping.)
3. I need to file and cut coupons.
4. I need to shop and get rainchecks.
5. I need to make appointments for the dentist and the doc for the kiddos.
6. I need to file the extra coupons.
7. I need to gather stuff for the homeschool 101 meeting tuesday night.
8. I need to find Joanan's Brownie stuff.
9. I need to prep for their art museum trip on Tuesday.
10. I need to email reminders for Clip and Play.
11. I need to email the contact for our galveston bay fieldtrip.
12. I need to send off letters to the post card swap.
13. Jake wants a chapter of harry potter tonight.
14. I need to ramrod tae kwon do uniforms and snack bags and books for the boys while Jo is at scouts. They have to do it themselves, but they still need soooo much birdogging...geeeez.
15. I need to check Tiffany's work and send out links for her study hours.
16. Mis Sheila needs the catfood we collected when we pick up coupons on Tuesday.
17. I need a menu for this week...just a general idea of what is geting taken out of the deep freeze and what if anayting is still edible in the refrigerator.
18. I need to find all the library books and read the short books Jo and Matthew haven't seen yet.
19. I need to make brownies and set up a bake party for the 1/3 and 1/4 Marines.
20. I need to remind homeschool group about packages needing to go out and to sign up for whatever field trips they are interested in.
21. Joanna needs her room and closet purged and sorted.

Okay so I already feel better seeing it on a neat list...I would have liked an even number...yes, sick I know....

Onward and upward!!! Carpe diem baby!!!

JMJ

I had a nightmare and in the moments after I woke up, walked into the family room where Tony was and explained what my butt was doing vertical at such an early hour----I was sorta still in it...mentally..

Tony: You still have another hour-- what are you doing up??

Me: Man, I had a nightmare!

Tony: laughing then very seriously...no shit?...yuh...me, too...Robert De Niro was this gangster and he was chasing me.

Me: ROFL...did he catch you?

Tony: dunno... I woke up

Me: shaking of head and more hysterical laughter...

Tony goes back to the book he picked up, originally, I am guessing at about 5 or 6 this morning...what's it called...The Five Families--crime families that is...uh huh. I didn't tell him mine...it wasn't necessary and I wasn't in the same mental place after an exchange like that, but I am all about getting things down so here in cyberspace.

Mine was me back as a young teen-- only I looked older and I was duking it out with my father-- not literally just, figuratively. He was back to his Great Santini bit with a double dose of narcissistic personality disorder thrown in--- only we were getting out and he never manages to get me this time, but we are really at it in terms of trying to outmaneuver one another...that is I was manuevering to get everyone out and he knew something was up, but just didn't know what...weird...I woke up before I finished, too...my adrenaline was PUMPING.

Glad Tony was with DeNiro last night...it brought me back to tone in a hilarious way...I am also really grateful he wakes up so early...though it still amazes me that he gets up with the roosters...no actually he pre-empts the roosters...he is showered and dressed, through at least one paper and several chapters in whatever the book dujour is...anyways it is like he is keeping watch over us...he is always up and vigilant. At least this is what I plug into my mind--lol. I like it.

Gotta get for now...just wanted to jump on and lay my head down for a minute.
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Okay so I have been to martial arts today...is it just me or is the new instructor on an ego trip for all the parents watching??? dunno...I think I am sending Tony to that class from now on...he tends to handle his temper better than me...yeah yeah don't go there...

I was a little hung up by Jo's dance studio owner Miss Kissyhuggydarlingsmoochie getting all anal retentive about a website and how I shouldn't try to market using their email addys...ummmm 'scuse me? YOU came to me lady #1 and #2 I assume if you are kissyhuggysdalringsmoochie with me that you trust me-- don't make me distrust you by changing tacks on me-- I'm a homeschooler--- why on God's green Earth would I want your list of parents and what on Earth would I market to them about???...and another thing why would you think I am a marketer to begin with???OH, because YOU market using email lists that you get from other sources ohhhhh...yeah well don't judge me by your standards, lady...you don't need to worry about trusting me...you need to worry about me trusting YOU...

Do I stay pissed off and indignant? Yes. No. Yes and no. Sorta. People fascinate me. Seems I am wanting to help them or I am constantly stifling the urge set up accounts for them with political organizations they abhor and or various porn sites depending on their percieved proclivities.

Okay so today I was also setting up the remote on a tv for Mr.Karl ,the guy I bring food and pick up papers from for couponing...He sells the papers at the local grocery store, so on the sidewalk of said store we plug this used tv we had at home into an outdoor outlet. It had to be a weird sight...lol...this middleaged woman sitting on a dirty sidewalk with a tv on and an instruction manual, the tv on and this little ol'black guy hunched over anxious to see if it would work...funny...well anyway I don't I think Karl can read and so what's the point of giving it to him if he can't work it??? who cares if people stared---hell if I hadn't been able to figure it out I know I would have been sizing up the clientele walking into the store and hitting somebody up for some help...muwhahahah...now THAT would have been really funny...I LOVE talking people into helping... I'm Catholic--guilt is a gift!!

Lessee what else was I thinking about today oh yeah...my dh is amazing...have I said this lately? THE MAN ROCKS!! We went to Galveston today together and talked about whatever and I am struck by how funny and intelligient this guy is. He mopped floors, vacuumed did laundry, took kids to class, made supper and now at the moment he is chasing the kids aroudn the house with a poopy diaper...man they sure scattered and Matthew---supplier o' the poop is delighted that his contribution is making such a splash and or splat as soon the case may be, if they keep throwing that thing around like that.

Glad the day is done. All is well.

JMJ

Yippee!!! I finally got an email from one of my Marines...ironically, enough it was the last one I took on. It really is a relief to have some contact. I have been flying blind for two months. The guy is ^$%# hilarious. It should be a good correspondence. This group is one that came out of Kaneohe Bay where my dh was stationed in the early 80s...I have heard more stories about his time in and Mokes and floats--- well they are still funny and he still tells them when I ask him, too. Most are offcolor a bit so I can't relay too many to any of these Marines until I get a better sense of them...no sense in freaking them out--as far as they are concerned I am some stationwagon-driving soccermom housewife...not that they haven't probably participated in most of what Tony describes...its just probably not a mixed company thing they want to do with a stranger...

I went to a birthday party today with 3 of 4 kiddos...one wouldn't go...seems he is unhappy with is present relationship with said birthday boy and didn't want to play laser tag, have an open snack bar tab and video tokens be hanged...while I was a bit uncomfortable with having to profer some sort of explanation as to his absence..I did have to hand it to my 8 year old...he has some personal integrity--- no??? Anyway, they are all hopped up on sugar and mildly unhappy with the "okay you just had your crap ration for the weekend folks" notice they got from mom on the way home...

I have not been as productive as I would like to have been...no, I guess I wouldn't have liked to have been, but I should have been nonetheless...that trip with my parents just sucked the life right out of me for some reason. I have the weekend though...we will see how it goes.

I need to pick up papers for the coupon group, write a letter about recent vacations for a military support group (pictures by the pool, drinks with little umbrellas...not!) amd copy it 20 times...everyone does this in the group and then we each get a copy so that we have 20 unique letters to share with which ever group we are helping..pretty clever I thought...

I am tired...not bare bones tired just generically so...I really don't even have a rant, piss or moan. yuh I know ...imagine that....I am up early to go and work at the dance studio for a while in the morning...seems I trade web work etc for Jo's dance lessons...the kids have tutoring in reading and martial arts. I need to gather books and set some goals for next week...not so good at reasonable ones, but I'll aspire not to aspire!