I'm out of here for a while. "Popping smoke" as CI Roller Dude, Sgt. Grumpy and some of my other mil folks like to say. I'm thinking a few days will give me some perspective...well hoping anyway. Who the hell knows?

There's a post up on, Words From Warriors. You should read it before you tear into your BBQ this weekend because this weekend isn't about brisket, beer or getting a good deal on cars, mattresses or furniture.

This weekend is a time to honor those who have made sacrifices for this country. The time is set aside for remembering those who have made the ultimate sacrifice. Whether you agree with our military or these soldiers, airmen, sailors and Marines and those sacrifices or not, everyone of us has still collectively benefited from them. We have since our nation's inception.

Honor
Courage
Commitment

These things deserve our unqualified respect.

Hope, out.

BACKGROUND:
Obama's little buddy Reverend Wright had this to say about the Corps according to the St. Petersburg Times.

“Remember, it was soldiers of the 3rd Marine Regiment of Rome who had fun with Jesus, who was mistreated as a prisoner of war, an enemy of the occupying army stationed in Jerusalem to ensure the mopping up action of Operation Israeli Freedom. These people were blinded by the culture of war.”


Now this isn't a history lesson or even a political one, though by his ridiculous comment, this guy is in dire need of both.

Nope.
This post is about what this comment prompted in my husband's jarhead mind.

It went like this:

Tony: Did you know that Rev. Wright F---
(yes, the F-word in the Corps can be any part of speech),
Obama's little friend, compared the Marines to Roman legions that crucified Jesus?

Hope: No. I didn't.

Tony: I'm offended.

Hope: I can understand that.

Tony: Yeah, (insert scoff here) there's no way they were Marines.

Hope, intrigued: What are you talking about?

Tony: There's no way they were Marines. Everyone the Marines kill stay dead.

Twenty some odd years out of the Corps and still as swaggery as ever.

Every mama needs a good Marine.

Course that's not to say said mamas would not benefit from some direction in the care and proper feeding of their jarhead.

Don't laugh.
I think I need to write a book.

It would be cathartic to say the least.

Crossfit

My workout was terrible today.
No.
Not too hard.
Too easy.
and this is after I asked the trainer to bump the numbers up.

Which she did and even as she did I quashed the compulsion to tell her, "Ummm maybe just a bit more--? Or "Hey, I don't really think I need this modified. I can do the regular workout."

...nine minutes later I was done.

Nine minutes later I was disgusted
with the workout
and with myself.

I went to another part of the gym and worked another WOD.
I won't keep my mouth shut next time.

Hope, mid-sloppy ass burpee

I got pulled over again. Defendant's Exhibit A at lower right. It seems Texas is on a big Click It or Ticket campaign for the summer.

I was in a hurry (what else is new really?) rolled out of the driveway and was trying to get to the post office while a friend watched my kiddos and

Okay so sometimes I do do it on my own or when I see a cop. Only-- well... I didn't see this one this time. I was trying to keep my boxes from sliding off the seat at the time. Seems they needed a seat belt, too.

So I'm coming back from Cross Fit in Houston and stop into a Kroger to pick up a few things on the way home in that sweaty, dirty, scuffed up, rumpled post Cross Fit state that leaves you too tired to care if you are publicly sweaty, dirty, scuffed up or rumpled.

I'm in the very glamorous pet food aisle reaching on my tiptoes for a few pouches of cat food-which I take to the newspaper mama who gives me coupons to shop with- and I hear this male voice behind me:

"I'd help you reach for those, but that would mean I would have to stop watching you reach for it."

W_T_H?!

or as a friend said even more succinctly:

What_a_jackass.

Here's an unfortunate individual who tries to put the moves on 40 year old women in the cat food section of a grocery store. I could make a few more lewd and derogatory comments about that, but I will exert some self control...at least more than this guy did.

Okay and because inquiring minds will want to know.

A little younger
dark eyes and hair
and fairly good looking.

too bad the lame ass, ill conceived line cancelled all that stuff out.

We were supposed to go to Dallas yesterday, but wound up with car trouble so we came back late last night.

I'll get on with a 4 children in a stationwagon post later. Timing is off-- too many deadlines and irons in the fire at the moment.

Let's just say for now that when the kids weren't peeling the skin off my eardrums with:
"Are we there yets?,
"Aww man, do we have to go homes?
I hate this stupid cars"

(in that order)

and just after I strapped them all the the ski rack,

I had time to ruminate about whether this milproject is going to get funded or not. I thought about it waaaaay too much.

I got home and immediately jumped online to see if someone had left word...surely after being gone all day there'd be a good chance of word.

NOPE.
Damn.

Late in the evening, I mentioned the aggravation to a more pragmatic friend who slapped my white knuckled hands away and said,
"Did you do everything you could?
Alright then,it's out of your hands.
Go Jesus!"

Go Jesus.

It cracked me up.

and I needed a good laugh.

Man, I can get wound up.

There.
The secret's out.

Oh yeah and...
GO JESUS!!!

This is some music I work out to and it seemed fitting to post it, too, because later on today I will be asking for a local non-profit to fund my USMC nonprofit. We'll see how it goes. I keep trying to gauge my confidence level, but it's not registering good or bad at this point.

I caught my 3 year old peeing into a sandwich bag out on the back porch.You heard me. P_E_E_I_N_G. Uhhh...no I didn't get a picture of that, but I'm sure the old hag in the corner lot did. I expect CPS any day.

My son Jacob has the attention span of a gnat. I know I look at him and give direction or ask a question and while he looks like he is with me....THE BOY AIN'T WITH ME. Arggggggghhhh. I feel nuts.

I worked out too hard and waaaaay wrong yesterday and so when I went to Crossfit today, (naturally there is no traffic so I get there nice and early) I got to watch with great detail all the brutality they had planned for the class about to start. I stretched, making sure I put no mental blood in the water...yup that's me cooooool as a cucumber...inside I am creating trajectories for where I can work out in the gym which will give the most expeditious access to the back door and or the toilet and making a mental note to get before and after shots of my knees. They stay in various stages of f-d up. CF was as brutal as I expected. 'Course my degree of Wienerness makes it so. At one point I think I saw a bright light and one of my dead relatives.

Second in Command Boss Lady at the post office was nasty to the clerk trying to help me. I asked SCBL nicely...yes, I was NICE-- to back up and cut the clerk some slack. I wasn't in a hurry, no one was hurt, I didn't mind and since I am the customer neither should she--she pointed out that folks were waiting to which I responded let's just get it right for those 20 odd Marines and soldiers who are waiting for another letter and probably not in air-conditioning. It really was alright I told her. I can't wait to talk to the clerk later...I thought she was going to pee herself.

I took the kids to get haircuts. We are at the This Is My Life How Come You Pick My Haircut stage. We are also at the Because I Said So Stage.



My jarheads in Africa sent me some cool tshirts to PT in and a card which their all the guys in the shop signed. I was floored...I'm usually on the other end of MAIL. Thanks boys I've already broken in one of them. See?Glad you had fun at Go Karts. You boys finally got a night off! Thanks for the pics. L to R is Jean, Joe and Shaun.
Tony bought some perfume for me and left it on my computer chair for no reason at all. I think the last time he did that we were dating. Cool eh? It smells nice, too.


I am still trying to shop for clothes. The thing is I don't want to shop too much...I dunno where I'm going to level off and well...OK OK OK!!! I hate shopping HATE IT...I go into those department stores and my eyes glaze over and when they aren't glazed over I am pretty sure most of the stuff I get a look at I wouldn't' wear anyway especially for the price. I could send mail for a month for what they want for some of this stuff...ack. And what is with all these crazy patterns, shirt dresses and 70's crap? I'm only pissing and moaning because we have to go see the relatives this weekend and I keep putting off finding a dress which means shoes, and whatever else. Men have it so much easier...lucky dogs.

Like Hippy I am not ready to say much else...yeah like this post was soooo succinct, but suffice to say, my sleep sucks. I think it has to do with perspective myopia, insecurities and having to learn all new things lately. It's not that I don't' actually like all the new things...I'm just whiney about the fallout. It's a draining business. Incidentally, I am pretty much good with being in other people's business I just never figure out my own what with the whole myopic thing.

Happy Birthday, CI-Roller Dude! Hope you had a good one yesterday! We love you here. Like Mike, I think you left your super hero cape here last time you came down--oh and spare keys to your Jarheadmobile.

Monday was the kind of day that takes you by the scruff of the neck and tries to slam you up against the wall. If you are lucky on these sorts of days, you have your hands ready to brace yourself so you aren't grating your face with bricks to make your impending grilled face sandwich.

No sandwich yesterday.

I felt the brick wall coming by midday and a shout across the parking lot at Girl Scouts to a friend about any manner of Mother's Night out being not only something pleasant to do, but bordering on crazed necessity as far as I was concerned, was probably the 'hands' that saved my face--if I may go back to my bad analogy. Well that and a mind numbing workout that made me cuss, sweat, bleed and really enjoy the dinner with said friend a few hours later.

Thanks mama. I needed that.

This is a burpee. Go ahead...play it. You know you wanna. I should warn you though--don't let the cute name fool you. I also call it the Barfee. Today we did these, but in between each one we did a broad jump instead of the straight jump. The broad jump puts you in a squat which goes to the push up where the burpee started. It doesnt' seem like that bad of a combo, but five into 3 rounds 20-15-10 of burpees, thrusters, dead lifts and jumping lunges, it suddenly occured to me what repeatedly throwing around 140 pounds actually feels like. Size sooooo does matter here...MY size.

This is called a thruster. I used 2 twelve pound weights. Once again they take a tough exercise and add a squat to it. At first I had 65 pounds on the first round...but I was certain if I tried to do that again on the second round the bar would fall on my head and give me a lobotomy.

Incidentally, it has been over 24 hours since I have mentioned this: Squats are the bane of my existence. But they are kind of like tomato in southern Italian cuisine...you aren't going to do much Crossfit cooking without a squat.

Between the broad jump burpees and thrusters, I was positively giddy to get to dead lifts and jumping lunges.

Mostly this WOD was un-fun because there were only two of us working out and 5 trainers standing there watching me drip sweat all over the floor as ungracefully as humanly possible. The other guy was done waaaaaaaaay earlier than me. In certain circumstances and depending on where it is coming from I like attention. This wasn't one of those circumstances.

I love this program. Love it. But there are stages of childbirth that go easier than some of this stuff. No lie. Mostly, I prefer thrashing myself in obscurity as opposed to having a rapt audience at least I will until I can call myself a Crossfitter with a straight face.

Having four kids was not something I set out to do when I got married. What I set out to do was not work--outside of the home that is, if I had children. I felt like it was important that I raised them and Tony was the breadwinner. I've been raising kids now for 11 years. Yes, Tony is here and does a great deal, but the whole 24/7 thing is on me. Traditional roles and all.

I'm pretty sure I suck at it. I won't go into how I rate up against other parents since the point is moot, but for me and without sucking around for comments to the contrary, I can look at what I have done so far and realize I have made some important mistakes.

I have done too much for them.
I have not had high enough expectations.
I have not been as consistent as they deserved.

I could go on, but it would be a little redundant-- all the rest will have something to do with these three anyway.

So I have been making sure they do for themselves, raising the bar where character and expectation are concerned and subsequently, as far as the children are concerned, been on their proverbial asses.

There have been sporadic uprisings, guerilla/insurgent like tactics and all manner of guilt led assaults in hopes that mom will capitulate. NO.
NO.
NO.
NO.

and so-

It's been ugly aroud here.
U-G-L-Y.

Mom is tired.
BUT

Mom is:
faster.
smarter.
more tenacious.

and

Mom has researched foster care.

Mom WILL win.

Yup-- this sounds adversarial and not child led at all. But I think that was the problem to begin with.

So here's the kind of workout puke fests are made of...

Warm up 440 run

"Tabata" Weighted Squats- 20sec work, 10sec break with weight for 4 minutes. Essentially, the really monster Crossfitters in this gym just go up and down like a jack in the box on crack. I notice I am having more crack-like moments , but I am still working on a deep squat and a straighter back. The break on this exercise was holding the bumper over your head for the 10 seconds. I should have savored it more, because it was the only break in the workout which you could really call a break.

When we were done getting our asses tabated (someone I know used 'tabata' as a verb...love it), the trainer said, "Okay, hit it! Another 440." Whah??

Okay, here's a sign of improvement, while my quads were shot to hell by the tabata beat down, I got out to the street and realized I wasn't going to fall down this time. Well I mean I had a deep meaningful discussion with them that sounded like this:

"Well, ladies, how are we doing down there?"
Quads: "uhhh Hellllooooo....how the hell do you think we are?
"Ummm tired?"
Quads: "No sh*t sherlock."
"Well so look.. ummm...there's about 20 other folks here today-- what say you give me some sorta idea on the chance of impending humiliation? Last time I ate it in the parking lot the audience was much, much smaller."
Quads:"Fine. Fine...we'll run but you owe us."

Whew...this meant I was just going to run NUMB. After 100 yards I also realized I might just finish this run without being the last one in the door. Don't get me wrong-- I love last.
Last out of bookstore,
last out of bed--woohoo--
but last out the gym door and not last back was pretty satisfying. I'm not gonna lie.


5min Sand Bag GetUps
Okay so here's the story on a sand bag get up...(after about 3 or 4 I call them Sandbag Get the Hellouttaheres)...Essentially you have this 25 pound duffel bag full of sand. You start on your back and as you get up it's on your shoulder. One hand is on the ground for balance, one foot is in front of you for balance and you use the opposite hand to hold onto the bag and the opposite foot under you to push to a stand. My motions are NOT fluid and my balance SUCKS. I look like I'm rolling all over the floor trying to make out with a duffel bag if I had to guess or maybe like I am trying to fight it off...dunno...suffice to say it ain't pretty.

After five minutes of getups--and not the hit the snooze button kind of five minutes--man! why? why is that? After 5 minutes of those get ups we go to step ups for the same amount of time. Incidentally, as much as I hate steps ups, after getups, those suckers feel like a break. I almost want to get down on my knees and hug that ^%$# step up box. It's sick.

"Tabata" Bottom to Bottom Weighted Squats
I'm wondering if they aren't going to have us hit the pavement again when they call time on the step ups and instead find myself back in Tabata land, the place of perpetual squats. I had to laugh maniacally by this time when it was explained that we would be taking our 10 second break in the squat position.

Every twenty seconds of rapid fire squats with weights she would shout,"Break!" I found, in my beat up state of mind, I would hear the word 'break' and have this time lapse in processing the word and then reminding myself that there wasn't one. It was a twisted kind of funny-- what with that and at the end hearing three of four folks sounding like they are in labor as they hold that squat. Hell yeah, I am sure I threw in my share of grunts. Still... Searing pain makes a lot of things funny.

x 6 100ft sprints (finish with 100ft Lunge Walk back)
Finally we head outside. Seems wind sprints will top off the workout. Half a dozen that start with you lying on the ground face down arms over your head or on your back in the same way. The first couple I was still numb from the squats again, but then I got to where I could roll faster, dig my heels in and find myself in that low slightly off balance place you dig your way out of to a flat out run. It's like a slow fight-your-way-out-of-a-trip start. It was fun. I mean it was fun to dig your way out of falling and find yourself pounding the pavement and not having a face to face with the pavement.
The only thing un-fun about this last part were the lunges at the end. Ugh. Lunges. The only worse than lunges are lunges when you can't feel the lower half of your body...they require core and quad strength and good balance.
I don't have too much of that.
Yet.


Postscript...one of the things I forget on the long drive home is how dirty I get at the gym. Generally, I'll have to stop in someplace for milk or another errand and I only notice the dirty shirt when I am getting BACK in the car. Well I guess it's better than spit up or boogers right?Especially since unlike the other previously described organic material, the dirt I put on all by my lonesome.

Every four days this is what my mailman finds in my mailbox. I hadn't thought about it until just now, but I bet that guy hates coming by my house...

I haven't been couponing in earnest the last couple of months. I got behind and did some shops, but nothing fancy. At some point, if you are heavy into couponing and slack off, you get a little nervous about going in for a big shop wondering if you still have your chops...

muwhahaha...

I spent fifty seven cents at Target today. Fifty seven pennies man!!! The poor checker was nervous because it was obvious I had more coupons than the order was going to take. I told her to just stop before it zeroed out so her machine didn't lock up and that would be fine. Boy was she relieved! I think she thought I was looking for cash back...

Nope.
I'm not greedy.
Course I'll want those extra coupons back mind you...

What did I buy?

I thought you might ask:

24 bottles of Visine
10 energy bars
4 quarts of strawberries and raspberries
2 double paks of Listerine
12 bars of soap
10 boxes of bandaids
6 8 oz bottles of Purell

When the shops are this good I always find myself wondering how I can fall off the wagon and not shop like this all the time? Couponing is like riding a bike. You never forget how to do it really...but you don't know that until you get back on. It's a kind of coupon amnesia followed by physical therapy. The swift self kick in the pants you give yourself for loosing focus is the physical therapy part.

It's a shame that I get such a rush out of building a deal.
I remember when rushes came from hitting Dime Draft Night at the Metro, working your list of tasks for Sorority Hell Night (in your face Pledge Mom...still wonder how I did it huh??!!?), field training execises in a Lousiana swamp, or the guy you were interested in finally freaking calling for crying out loud...oh well.

I'm 40 now.
Times have changed.
I'm going back tomorrow for my consumer induced rush and will try not to linger over the fact that it's all just kinda sad really. None of the aforementioned BS being any sadder of course than the present.

Oh! A big bonus is that all of this stuff except for the berries is really useful to our military folks about now. See? When the buzz wears off I can count on a sense of service anyway.

Okay still kinda sad comparatively speaking.

Crossfit
I was in a little bit of a hurry what with all the shopping today, Girl Scouts and the boys PT class-- so when I came home between checking email, supervising the cleaning and vacuuming the car and changing for the gym I made the mistake of wearing some yoga pants which went on a little too easy, but I didn't pay enough attention at the time.

Here's the thing:

The WOD (workout of the day) was

880 run for warm up

40, 30,20 and finally 10 sets of

situps

wallballs (maniacal squats with a ball you throw over your head on the way up and catch on the way down at the end of your squat

Push press (barbells over head in rapid succession)

Step ups/Box jumps (think tall box you either step up and down on or jump up on and land two footed)

This particular exercise is a mental thing for me at the moment. If youbox jump and fall your shins will catch on the edge of this big wooden box...OWIE!!!...I have done this before...hence my being leery of this stupid box or rather my legs being leery. There are times when I swear I hear them tell my brain..."Wait, Wait! We're REAAAAAAAALLY tired right now are you sure you want us to jump up...seriously? Tell you what, Brain, we'll jump right on up there if you promise to short circuit the writhing agony type pain response if we give out and hit the edge of this box here. What do you say?"

No luck, mostly you just stand there and tell yourself to jump and your legs pretend they are deaf and can't hear a damn thing. I'm all about the step ups at this point. Though I think the trainers may be on to me, because while I have had my workouts scaled for the last month...today the trainers upped both weight and repetition...I may have to contend with jumping soon...ack.

Now.
Throw into all this mind screwing the realization the pants you are wearing are getting looser and looser as the workout goes on.

Paint yourself a picture.

Hope in the gym with 20 other sweaty harworking folks,

throwing her arms over her head,
going into repeated squats,
stepping up onto a high box

Repeat....oh say....
100 times!!!

I could not begin to fathom the importance of the right gym wear until I began Crossfit. I usually just throw on anything. As a matter of fact the clothes I generally wear is the stuff I disappear into here and in the gym. Out of habit, I have always worn my clothes too big...only now...well stuff's not staying on me so well. I think a lot of mamas wear stuff that keeps them flying under the radar. I know I have always subscribed to this. The problem with my philosophy is if I keep wearing this big stuff under the radar will be replaced by all over the radar. I'll be straining to press weights over my head and my pants will be down around my ankles...

Yup I think someone might notice.

Sigh.

It's going to sound strange, but I hate shopping. I like stocking the house with food and supplies, but I'd rather eat dirt than shop for clothes--well relatively clean dirt anyway and I'd need some sort of clean dirt certification.

Where was I again?
Oh yes.
Shopping.
That I'd rather eat dirt than shop pretty much sums it up.

Three words:

DON'T

DO

IT!

Friends don't let friends watch sorry ass movies.

We plowed through 20 minutes of bad tactics, stupid lines and "weaksauce" as Mike would call it, before Tony started cracking me up about berets and sexual orientation and saying stuff like, "Why did you pick this movie again?"

From the movie jacket I thought it was a war movie, but the art they used only represented about 15 minutes of bellocosity. The rest was ala Lifetime channel hybridized with a bad Monday night movie.

No.

Worse.

Turn away! Turn away!

According to the director, everyone comes back from Iraq mentally unstable, angry and well versed in the profiles of most psychotropic drugs. Granted I have no idea where people's minds are when they come back, still, I can't believe that this movie would depict all it's characters as broken by the war and emotionally stunted, anti-American teeth gnashers.

The complex issue of the war on terror was depicted by the director like a bad paint by number kit.

So there I am at a stoplight on my way to pick up some coupons. Granted it's in a rough part of town, but still I was surprised to look up from my reverie to see a stooped old man standing in the middle of the left lane gesturing to me in earnest.

I lowered the window a crack and he starts his schpiel. "Ma'am I haven't eaten in two days and I'm hungry." Only he said hungry like it had 8 syllables all the while patting his belly.

Coincidentally, in my straw bag I had a couple of shelf stable meals I had pulled out of some milsupport boxes because they weren't fitting well before I had sent them to Africa earlier in the morning.

When I lowered the window a few more inches to hand him the meals,
you could see his body language and facial expression move from "jackpot!" to "son of a b...." .

He_was_crushed.

I'm not sure why this struck me so funny, but I couldn't help myself after he walked off and I rolled my window back up, the light turned green and I LAUGHED and couldn't stop as I drove through the intersection on to my destination.

Seriously.

He couldn't hide his disgust at getting what he actually asked for and not some money. Normally, I will hand out a few bucks no matter what. I figure it's not for me to decide what a panhandler is going to do with some money, but still the situation had it that I had food right there and ready to go so well you know...ask and you shall recieve, right??

This guy's schtick had been so rehearsed and his expression so canned to look old, worn and decripid that when he realized he was getting something and it wasn't money, my offering immediately subtracted ten years from his face, posture and walk in the time it took for the food to pass through the window and him to stomp off.

Initially, here was a helpless old man with lips pulled over his teeth, a pained expression and a plea for food. When he walked away it was a hacked off, middleaged guy who didn't limp, certainly didn't want any food and had--I suspect--a few choice words for me in place of any pleas.

My friend, J, came over this morning and we packed some stuff up for folks in Afghanistan, Africa, Iraq and the States. We laughed and caught up on our week as we pulled from the stockpile and pantries and she asked about how some of my folks were doing.

We got around to one jarhead in particular and phrases like,

"oh he's such a mess."
"Awww he did that? How sweeeet!"
"sigh...he's so good..."
"Did you make sure to tell him what a great job he is doing?"

started flying around.

Incidentally, none of these phrases were out of my mouth. I was too busy ruefully laughing my ass off, shaking my head and uttering a few "OH_MY_GODS!"

Tony, at one point came in to see what was going on, and was relieved to find the aggravation was not aimed at him this time...he just grinned and went on about his business.

There's a law of the universe that gives HUGE smack points for people usually not known for more than lumberjack/ninja type affectations when they do show consideration and thoughtfulness. The Law does not involve phrases like, "well it's about time".

Nope.

Knuckledraggers get the props, man...and mamas like J laughing at mamas like me when I get bent at this gross miscarriage of justice. (Can you hear the facetiousness?)

I could just see this one particular jarhead standing behind J with is thumbs in his ears flapping his fingers and sticking his tongue out at me..."See? he'd say smugly with a grin you'd want to wipe off, "I rock! Here's a box of straws, Hope. Suckitup!"

I have to laugh.

Actually, what I have to do is look into working this guy's incorrigible charm into my routine here, but somehow I don't think it would fly coming from a mama as well as it does him or Tony...yet another totally unfair Law of the Universe. Mama standards on the other hand are grossly high and demanding. WTH, man?

I would like to point out that none of this is much of surprise, I just thought I'd have a minor whine.

Really, as a mother of four children and a wife of a former jarhead, I see this sort of thing all the time around here. I just thought it would be fun to bust J for it. Heehee...