So I went out with my sister the other night and promptly lost my phone.

Man am I glad I took off all the semi-nude pictures earlier in the week.

So now I have one of these:

I can email, text, IM, take pictures, voice record the children saying things I'll throw in their face later with no compunction whatsoever and video--THOSE implications are far too many for just one post.

Oh yeah and you can TALK on this sucker, too.
Hold on, I'm blacking out a little...

ok, where was I?

Oh yes, my sis and I went out to eat and we shopped. She was on one of those maximum damage in short amount of time modes. Watching her go at it is jawdropping. She leaves clerk carcasses and smoking debit cards in her wake.

I like her style.

Thanks J...
I have to put this up here, too.
I keep hitting replay.

Btw when are you going to tell me about getting out of your ticket?hee

I figured a way to get a blog up there^^ so those of you who don't read milblogs a lot have the opportunity. Go ahead. Take a look. As time permits or I'm able to make some semblance of a mini header I'll keep switching them out. What? Did you think that was Mike's permanent real estate? lol. That's what you get for thinking.

(Update Edit at end of this post...7:20 pm, 27May)
Your comments last post were hilarious, poignant, kind and well, CI Roller-- a little concerning! I didn't know they even made Underoos that size...

So there have been developments , but I won't bother to give the blow by blow until things stop blowing--this afternoon I think. By then the latest will have settled down and the proverbial "word will come down". I'll post again today if it does.

In the meantime, Mike sent this over this morning. It cracked me up and laughing is a good thing! I left what the original sender put at the end of the funny. It's not funny as much as a truth and pretty dead on for me in terms of how things have been progressing lately. :)

Yesterday I was buying 2 large bags of Purina Dog Chow at Walmart for my dogs. I was about to check out when a woman behind me asked if I had a dog. What did she think, that I had an elephant?

Since I had little else to do, on impulse, I told her that no, I didn't
have a dog, and that I was starting the Purina Diet again, although I
probably shouldn't because I ended up in the hospital last time. On the
bright side though, I'd lost 50 pounds before I awakened in an intensive
care ward with tubes coming out of every hole in my body and IVs in both arms.

I told her that it was essentially a perfect diet and that the way that
it works is to load your pockets with Purina nuggets and simply eat one
or two every time you feel hungry and that the food is nutritionally
complete so I was going to try it again. (I have to mention here that
practically everyone in the line was enthralled with my story by now.)

Horrified, she asked if I ended up in intensive care because the dog
food had poisoned me.

I told her no; I had stopped in the middle of the parking lot to lick my
butt and a car hit me.

I thought the guy behind her was going to have a heart attack, he was
laughing so hard!

WAL-MART won't let me shop there anymore.

Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some have unwittingly entertained angels. God determines who walks into your life. it's up to you to decide who you let walk away, who you let stay, and who you refuse to let go.


**************************
Well like those movies where the surgeon comes out all grim and tells the family in what ever words he's sorry, but he's done everything he can...I got the word. I kept my expectations low so it wasn't a shock, but I can't say I wasn't a little disappointed. I got the idea to try the Guard from some bloggie friends. My general compulsion to serve in some way had been ailing for a little while if you've actually suffered through the last few days of HopeRadio, I'm sure you are aware and while I still love the idea of being of service, I hate to see anything suffer--the idea or my patient readers.

Seems while I still seem to be quite appealing to recruiters, the timeline for bootcamp and OCS before my 42nd birthday is going to keep me from even a shot at National Guard. They don't have a slot available that will get the whole shooting match done before I light 42 candles on my cake.

Sooooo...

Every door has been knocked on that I am aware of.
National Guard would have been a pretty good deal in terms of keeping a family balance and compared to most State Guards, Texas rocks benefits and pay wise. It just wasn't meant to be.

At least I have had the opportunity to check each type of service and give it go. The process was not one I recommend for the faint of heart not that my heart is any more buff than the next human--just sayin'...I'm sure this is a your mileage may vary kind of a thing. I will say I'm glad I looked down this last avenue and it was nice to have a direction with which to align my compass one last time.

No worries.
Apparently Patience is the biggest lesson here and since I prolly suck at that one more than most virtues, I can see how it's the one that keeps stepping back in the ring to have another go.

Fine.
*smile*

Bring it.

Thursday I was asked by the station commander to come into his office and as I got up from my recruiter's desk to walk that way I noticed the second in command as well as my recruiter were following me.

Great.

Right away I knew it couldn't be good. The air was thick with apology before words ever got uttered. It was explained to me that given the unique situation I was in they had done some further digging and they had come to find out that a few weeks ago a woman from Garland, Texas, a year younger than I am now, 41, was in the same situation as I was about to be. Ready to take on Officer Candidate School, her recruiting station submitted a waiver to their battalion, it was approved and off she went to Fort Benning where she completed the program and was then summarily discharged.

No, not because she didn't do well, but because the battalion at Benning disagreed with the waiver the recruiting battalion in Texas had given her which allowed her to attend OCS in the first place. Since she was a candidate and not enlisted, she was discharged with the Army's apology.

Gulp.

We talked-- the station commander, the 1st Sgt and my recruiter.
They could go ahead with the waiver, hope my old Army family name would carry some weight and we could all cross our fingers, but things didn't look too good.

At some point the recruiting cadre relaxed, our conversation, my family background and general interview impressed them and so they gave me their best recruiting schpiel. I'd be a great asset to the Army, why didn't I enlist and backdoor the OCS packet or even a warrant officer packet once I was in? It would only be a year or so of working as an E4 (specialist in the Army, Corporal in the USMC) It would work, I'm athletic and my test scores were in the 90s percentile wise.

Now anyone who spends any kind of time with me (god love'm) knows I can get a little stiff necked when I have made up my mind about something. Whiplash where necks are concerned these last 8 days is NOT EVEN THE WORD.


:::rolling tape:::

Sitting here last Sunday night I discover I can still serve in the military.
ohmyhell.
A couple of hours later I read I have too many kids so no I can't.
Then I get an email that says oh yes you can if you have a waiver and did I know I could get one for OCS as well?
ohmyhell again.
My head swims with the implications and I call a recruiter the next day.

Than spouse gives me the are you out of your mind face and tells me he'd rather I not, but won't stand in my way, then lays low in hopes that all this will just blow over without any kind of conversational engagement.
Fine. I won't go.
After a couple of days the spouse and I suck it up and have a conversation resulting in a spousal ok I'm good to go if you are.
Then more tests and plans at the recruiting station.
Then another day and more paper work documenting and proving my heartbeat and respiration and lack of any known sociopathic tendencies.
Then the Garland woman saga hits followed by the interview with the recruiting station head and the okay you should enlist and backdoor this pitch.
After that I came home to ask the million dollar question: Hey honey what do you think about my enlisting cause OCS is too damn risky?

Then the real way the spouse felt about this whole Army matter really surfaces and well since one of my biggest complaints about my beloved is how he rarely speaks or gives an opinion, it would be pretty freaking wrong for me to give him a reply which would convey: Thanks for the input, I'm enlisting anyway.

Yes, as a matter of fact I did say all of that just now without inhaling.
Nauseous, yet?

Insert expletives and tantrums here.

I had some that would inspire awe in any one of my kids.
Captured on tape and they could have held it over my head for years.
I couldn't believe how gut wrenching the last week as been.
It was akin to one long, fast, tummy-plummeting ride over the top of multiple sets of hills on a country road. Only nobody ever mentions the bugs you get in your teeth flying down the road like that.

ew.

The final blow came in the form of a four year old wearing Mike's latest pan of brownies on his face and his Lightning McQueen underwear on backwards so he can see the picture, crawling into my lap, patting me on the cheek and saying he likes it when I rock him. A MIRV or TOW didn't have the blast radius on my active duty dreams that Little Guy did.

Checkmate.

Game over.

It took two days just to stop hearing the death rattle.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
A word to those who had front row tickets to the angst. I'm humbled you took the time and as trite as it may sound, I learned a great deal through this process. Lessons on faith, leadership, self efficacy and patience hit dead center. I liken them to those gifts you get to keep even if you send the infomercial item back "no questions asked, just pay for shipping and handling".

Oh I got handled all right. I feel like one might expect to after coming out of a mental biker fight.

While the lessons weren't what I wanted or sought, they were very much what I needed. When are they ever not,really?
*tired smile*
So. Thank you.

I haven't ruled out grad school, the Reserves, government work or contract work overseas, but a career full fledged would be too hard and unpredictable on everyone except me and unlike that group of infomercial items you buy, have shipped and later pick through to choose what to send back, I'm a package deal. Picking and choosing aren't mother friendly verbs at present.

I couldn't tell you how I feel right now much less what I think more than preserving and protecting my family. There's no nobility in it so any comments to that would be awkward. I suspect that impulse is a fruit of sound genetic imprinting and the evolutionary process so taking credit for that would be like taking credit for hair color, being able to roll my tongue or pulling my thumb back just so.

Best way I can see it right now with little time to set this all in perspective, I need to be patient and grateful for breathing in and out and still possessing the temerity to assume another day will be there when I open my eyes.

I'm good to go.
Like some of my milfolk say, "Drive On!"

This video above was recently added to Youtube for Memorial Day. I know the poster would love to know people had seen it. The two videos below describe the men my great-Uncle Lucian led during the invasion of Anzio in WWII.

Today is not, after all, really about the slab of cow we all probably have marinating or laying out on the grill right now. The bottom line is this:

Some came home.

Some didn't.

Many are gone.

All are remembered.

I've been sulking.
A prepubescent had nothing on me.

Seems I qualify.
If I am so inclined, I can show up at the hotel tonight and go in for my physical in the morning.

But no.
After mindfucking myself to death I've decided I'm not going to go.
I'll have to call in a little while and let the recruiter know.

I'm good to go for the most part.
I really wanted to accept this opportunity. Packing up and joining the fray, pushing myself, seeing what I could do if I took myself out on the highway and opened her up a bit. Pretty damn enticing especially after believing for so long that a career in the military was no longer an option after giving it up the first time.

Great idea for me.
Not so good for the fam.
Seems I have one of those.
A big one.
One I was in on the making of, so having been yanked around the country close to twenty times myself growing up and in the interest of protecting a somewhat fragile marriage, I'm standing down on the Army.Again.

I'm not happy about it this time.

But if I did it,they would't be happy about it.

So.
Grad school?
Contracting?
Porn star?

Today, I have no idea--
Maybe I will tomorrow.
Porn star is prolly out though.
I think I'm allergic to latex.

I talked to a recruiter today.

Driving home I realized it was almost 20 years to the day since I came home for the MEPS station in downtown Houston the first time I was considering OCS. Actually, at that time it was more than a consideration. One last signature and I was good to go.

Then I met my husband.

Turns out there's a waiver I can use this recruiter informs me.
Turns out I did exceptionally well on my initial tests and on paper I may qualify for OCS again.

Turns out Tony and I have some things to discuss.

Holy crap.

I didn't know the age limit for recruitment in the Army was 42?

I thought it was younger...

Follow up:
Standing down.
Seems I have two too many children for Uncle Sam.

In honor of all veteran and current military personnel and their families.

A very Happy Armed Forces Day!

What?
It's been a couple years since I put this up.
Humor me.

It's got all your basic food groups:
loud music
guitar solos
formations
fly bys
acceleration

Then there are other things which need no commentary OR introduction...



A parting gift for my female readers disinterested in things that go "Vroom" or "Boom"...well--the inanimate ones anyway.


My God, I love my country.

The first person who can point out the inherent blasphemy in baking brownies in a round pan gets a batch sent to them post haste.

No, that these were meant to go to a knuckle dragger, but now well into a baking heresy cover up which will cost me 500 squats to pull off brownies is NOT IT.

hmmmmm

*thinking*

Though props for laying my ass on the line for my country wouldn't be so bad. *clutching pan of brownies* It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it.

There is nothing to see here today, but an effort to lighten up from the last post-40, angst ridden noise from yesterday. (If you leave nasty comments, I won't be answering so be forewarned before reading on.)I pre-apologize for any emotional agitation which might be instigated by my going straight for the rude, crude,cheap, unladylike,trashy, absurd, sarcastic, unpolitically correct, in poor taste, offensive, insensitive, immoral kind of fare we all get in our inboxes from time to time and never put on our blogs.

Well...some of us do and those that do, feel free to share it with your own readers.

Yeah, yeah.

You're welcome.





I have to say these last two seriously cracked me up.
Enjoy the rest of your Monday!

live, love, breath, hope.

Why babies have mothers.

I thought I'd put up some old posts for a laugh or two. Well also to mitigate the drivel below. Happy Mother's Day!~ Live, Love, Breath and Hope.

Translating the mommy speak

Testosterone 1 Mommy 0

Mommy HAZMAT training

Perils of Mommydom

Woman's Work

Been mothering for twelve years now. My siblings, family and friends may beg to differ. My name and the word 'mother' were often put into the same sentence long before I had my first Easy Bake Oven.

Serious, world on her shoulders, earnest-- I have heard them all.

I had dinner the other night with this mama friend in my old home town. I grew up babysitting her kids. It's a friendship where we meet every few years and make massive downloads into one another's brains. We relay what we are doing, have those nfw that kid is that old?! Tell him to quit growing THIS instant conversations. We talk about what inanities can drive us us to drink, put our fists through drywall, make us laugh beverage through our noses and assess just how much damage that last pass through the atmosphere did to our heat reflectors. You know, mama talk.

She asked what I had been up to and so I told her of the projects and interests I have now and her eyes never wavered as she looked at me from her seat across the table.

"So working with warriors eh? I'm not surprised. You've been a warrior since I met you."

She's right. And yet, I wasn't sure how to take it. For it meant I must admit with no equivocation I have been taut and vigilant ever since I can remember and that I own the mother lion, the OCD angst ridden, I'll-never-fit-into-his family-I-wonder-how-much-therapy-the-kids-will-need-if-I-can-just-fix-that-or-bring-the-right-dish-to-the-potluck-everything-will-be-fine-who am-I-kidding-I'm-so-full-of-crap role I share with a great number of the population on the planet.

One thing I've come to understand through age, fatigue, discomfort all necessitating an eventual need for understanding, is that any of those traits are all are bearable in the absence of second guessing. In it's presence all bets are off. It's the one rock that when you put it in anyone's wagon, lifts the donkey harnessed to said cart, straight into the air.

So I've been turning off that second guess switch--a little I mean. I think it comes with age. One hits that forty mark and the sticky, thick Self Conscious vaccine some of us self administrate in spite of our loathing of sharp, shiny, painful needles all those years becomes less of a given.

I have now found the nerve to throw that stuff right into the bio-hazard container. I'm glad, too, cause if I threw it in a regular trash can, I'd dive right in to get it bacl after an hour.

Bio-hazard containers have those little doors that you can't pull back out, see. Once your crap is in, there's no getting it out. I've seen other more well adjusted mamas with one mounted on the wall and I kept lusting theirs from afar. Thinking I did not have the emotional currency to invest in one, I never put it on my Christmas list.

Alas I scraped the human cash together.

My bio-hazard container was telling my mother in law just what I thought and then repeating it to her offspring less there were any issues with translation. It was also pursuing passions and realizing the kids would survive if they ate cold cereal for breakfast every once in a while. It's in the gym, this grad school app sitting at my desk, the priority boxes my feet are resting on here under my desk waiting to be mailed across the pond and in the friends I've kept as well as the friends I remember fondly.

Without the vaccine, dongivafukitis is beginning to flourish.It feels like any condition would especially as your body and mind get the first flush of its little beasties. Nothing is particularly better or easier, but the viral load is shifted so it feels less heavy despite of the fact that when I look in my wagon all the good and the bad is present and accounted for--the same but loaded differently, less awkwardly.

I know this is true. It is because even now after all this time, motherhood is not a role I feel extremely confident in and I'm not so freaked out by that. I'd even go so far as to say it's a role that keeps me pretty frustrated at my lack of grace or clarity most of the time, but again I have begun to expect that time will change that.

I know motherhood is not a role you can ever put down or in my case would want to put down. Leave in personal storage while I renovate...well maybe--but I digress.

How you shoulder the role is something you will answer for one way or the other as it marks your mind and your body, indelibly and ephemerally and as it marks those you love in some ways.

I often joke I'd prefer to have been born a man. Only sometimes, I'm not really joking.

Given the inherent, sophomoric humor of the Universe, I understand why I wasn't.

------

Blogging Milsupport here and here (scroll halfway down on this post. I may have been having a moment. *eyes looking up innocently*) Go have a look if you haven't. Trying to gather a few things for some guys in Iraq.

I've been pulling the technological equivalent of balling up posts and using them to make free throws into the trashbasket where this How to Support your Adoptee post is concerned. I was trying to watch my tone and not offend, but people if I keep it up I'll develop a rash!

I'd tell you I have been driven to drink over it, but I've been on too many OTCs and monitoring my kiddos' OTCs this week to pull that hallucinogenic stunt...not to say I haven't entertained the idea a couple of times.

Science project potentialities aren't the only thing which should be taken into consideration when you and your Significant Other family plan. One should also consider the impact of illness on one's psyche. Namely the mommy's pysche. She's the only one not allowed to get sick. Read here: It's been ugly 'round here.

Combine that with the dreaded monthly hormonal fluctuation, fluctuating waaaay early and with deadly-for-my-husband vengeance, I might add, and I have to say I'm relieved pretty damn proud of staying out of the nearest bell tower with high powered weaponry. A MIRV had nothing on me these last few days. All I needed was a target--not really I would have improvised, I'm sure.

Yes. You saw that right. I just turned drinking, overmedication, ordinance and the curse of womanhood--nay, one curse of womanhood, into a happy thing. Hormones are multifaceted you know. How do I know? I know because now we are going to throw in Marines and philanthropy and me bossing you around in here 'cause this post isn't twisted enough!

Speaking of twisted. Let's talk Marines.

I have found in doing milsupport, that Marines, or any outfit out on the tip of the spear actually share some commonalities. (Gimme a break Mike, I said SOME. Don't get your cammies in a bunch.) I'm more reluctant to talk about other service branches since I have far less experience with those particular animals. I was probably drinking and on some sort of OTC concoction when I thought to myself. "Self, which branch should we pick to lay our good graces on?" Course, Dad being a Marine and all kinda made it a no brainer though there was my own Army family background to consider. But again, I digress.

I'm steeped in female hormones remember? Whaddaya want from me?

Here are some commonalities as I see them. Your mileage may vary.

They aren't going to tell you much. These folks out sweating their asses off in 80 pds of gear and sand it will take several years to divest themselves of completely won't tell their mothers much more than they and their buddies are ok and good to go most times so don't expect them to say more than that to you. Self/unit reliance is interwined and hammered into their brains at their Marine birth. All other births are immaterial. If they say anything at all if you get into contact, you are one lucky supporter. In the three years I've worked support I have half a dozen people I still stay in contact with. With this project we have taken care of over 300. I leave you to do the math. It was my worst subject.

They live in a kind of groundhog day situation and have no sense of time the way you do. Day of the week, holiday, weekend are not relevant where they are. Date your letters. Just because you send them chronologically doesn't mean they get them that way. Which reminds me. Learn about where they are. It's called the internet. Use it. It's amazing what you can learn about your adoptee, even if he or she never mutters a written or electronic word. A couple of lines on a message board about how power strips were a big ticket item for a particualr FOB made for some well received packages with a Heavy Mechanic Marines shop.

They already have their friends at home and their buddies there. Help if you like, but it doesn't make you best friends.

Things falling through, not going as planned or blossoming into the standard issued clusterf***s are expected by most in the military. Their expectations are fairly low, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't do what you say you will do. If you don't follow through throughout their deployment, congratulations, you just helped lower their expectations even further and that they didn't sign on for.

Don't wait to do the perfect letter or package!!!

Put a box under your desk at work or on the counter in the kitchen or by the table where you dump your keys and cell.Wherever. When you see something that makes you smile get it and throw it in box. Don't overthink it. What if they think you're weird?

Two thoughts on that. One, you probably are. So what? Two, if you weren't you wouldn't be worried about what a stranger 7000 miles away who will prolly never stop what they are doing long enough to say hi anyway thinks about you anyway. Keeping themselves and their buddies alive, staying hydrated, unblown up or shot and focused on the mission at hand kinda takes precedent over them forming an opinion about you.

Okay I know there's more, but I think I'll leave it go and step down off my soapbox. I'd like to address one other thing though.

Poor you say? Don't know if you can afford it?

Half-Price Books and stores like it sell magazines for pennies on the dollar. Your adoptee won't care if the magazine is a couple of months old, they care if it's a magazine about how to store breastmilk. Just pick stuff with guns, hot chicks, sports, fighting, martial arts, cars, hunting or fishing on the cover and your good to go. What? Worried about the stereotyping here? Get over it. Keep your audience in mind. Mostly men, between 18 and 25 who said to themselves one day. "Hmmm I think I'll join the service. They'll let me play with ammo and wear camouflage."

Dub morning radio or some TV. Jackass, Girls next Door, Battlestar Galactica,Heroes, Southland,Pimp My Ride that late Saturday night airing of Road Warrior, UFC, MMA, anything on Versus or any other man channel for that matter. For what you buy a Starbuck's Chai Latte Grande you can drop a burned DVD in a gift card-letter sized envelope, throw in some smart ass rendition of the top reasons why a kid and terrorist are alike into a letter four times. And the DVD at the very least is the kind of thing they can share with their buddies and trade for other things after they have watched it a hundred times.

Be consistent.

Be Persistent.

Keep asking them to tell you what you can send even though you probably won't hear about it unless you get lucky with some outfits and some irrascible congenial Point of Contact shows some mercy caves and gives the gouge out of desperate need for peace from a pain in the ass supporter love for his men.

When they don't, just send them a nice fluffy Big Bird sweater or some Hello Kitty shower shoes.

Sooner or later you'll hear back or about what you sent.

And if you never do, it won't make the stories they tell about their crazy milsupporter any less likely.

Three folks answered the call yesterday to support 3rd BN 3rd Marines. I really appreciate your commitment to these Marines. Paypal hangs onto the funds for a few days before they are released into my account so I'll contact those who's generosity was so gratefully recieved and let you know the details. I wasn't sure about mentioning you here without permission. I'll post more about where they are and what they might like tomorrow. Sarah, thanks for offering to help dub TV. Yes, I don't think they mind commercials, at least my Marines didn't last deployment. Anything that smacks of home... (Picture:LCpl Samuel Mincey, one of my former adoptees from Kilo Co, 3rd BN 3rd Marines, on patrol in Karmah Iraq 2007)

Speaking of home, I drove through the town I lived in while in high school last night. Having attended 18 schools growing up. Yes. 1-8. No typo-- this town was special in that the last 3.5 years of growing up, we stayed in one place. It became the first place I would call home with a straight face.

Alone for the daytrip, I also found myself driving past the house we lived in to see that time had carried it away and replaced it with a new one. As I slowly rolled through the neighborhood instigating at least one or two neighborhood watch entries I am sure, I also found my spot. Every angst ridden, painfully intense teenager has such a place. (whom am I kidding I still have these spots...remenber the picture in my old header?)

My thinking spot,

if you will,

unlike my home,

looked exactly the same.

Had I had the time

I would have climbed up

on my perch

out over the water

to draw a few breaths,

but there was no time to be had.

It was here I

planned the demise of siblings,

went to cry unabashedly,

laugh hysterically,

plot vengefully,

and be dumped by a very short-sighted Senior,

It's where I shredded my first university acceptance letter, and found Sanctuary after I came home from school to find very angry parents asking why said university had called to offer an applicant they rejected a last minute scholarship. So. completely.busted.

It's where I often

journaled,

read

and sometimes just disappeared for an afternoon away from adolescent trials and tribulations to count the ripples stones made as I dropped them into the water.

I even remember sometimes wondering what it would be like when I came back one day all grown up to see, if my tree was still there. Moving so often, I often made promises to the child I was in each place to come back and claim a particular space; to acknowledge my history and somehow give it a credibility hard won with so few roots ever setting deep into any particular soil.

Getting out of my SUV and walking down the creekbed was like opening an old box full of letters and keepsakes kept on a shelf for twenty odd years. Memories rustled in the feel of the grass under my feet, the smell of the creek, in the echos of calls to supper brought to life in the muffled sounds of children playing in a nearby yard. It was even in the feel of the air about to bring rain like all Mays then seemed to do growing up along Oyster Creek .

Clear thoughts escaped me.

Clarity came from senses gifting me with a subtle, fleeting poignancy.

Taking a coastal road back, all the same senses were useless save sight later that evening. The night wrapped around my car in an inky fog shrouding and pulling back with it the evening's reverie as I drove towards home.

I've reached critical mass on the homefront.

Kids are on some kind of parent hating crack.

Insurance company is about to bend me over the couch on a claim. Fine. It's insurance I won't rank on that. But I will insist on picking the guy, and demand he bring me flowers and buy me dinner first. Damn it.

I have GOT to get back in the gym. I've been slacking in the worst way. A good pounding is in order. Physical, I mean. State Farm is taking care of the rest.

I could give one hairy rat's tookus what Michelle Obama's favorite food is. How does Pakistan and nuclear security, Holbrooke's testimony or the Taliban spokesperson, Zabiullah Mujahid's, interview this morning rate following that kind of noise on CNN? I don't think I will ever wrap my mind around the fact that we as a people are such sheep, news directors can pull this crap. WHO CARES? If you felt just as dirty watching that, go look at one of these blogs and bring yourself up to speed-- maybe save a few brain cells. Registan.net Ghosts of Alexander Or check out the link at the top of the middle column called War on Terror News. Go ahead. I dare you.

Okay.

**Deep breath**

In an interest of regaining a semblance of composure and giving this post some sort of legitimacy, let me end it in a different tone. Whining, pissing and moaning will only take me so far. (Granted, the drink at lunch will have helped with my attitudinal re-direction.)

I need some sheets for twin beds. Three sets actually. Four, if I can get them. Laundry service in the Sandbox is pretty tough on fabric and sleeping on rough is not so fun, especially when you've worked in rough all day. Any kind of super hero type sheet and or comforter sets would put some big grins on a few jarheads faces I know. If you don't want to send and just feel like throwing money at me, that would be completely cool, too.

I can also use macadamia nuts, a protein called Monster Milk (look for link in middle column) some Amazon gift cards, coffee beans and good socks and undies (no, not for me. gheesh.)

Let's fix it so someone can have a good day OKAY? ok.

Oh yeah, before I forget.

Travis and Gman, here's your present.

I am in the midst of building blogrolls from memory, comment lists--oh yeah, those who left evelopes with money/naked pictures I'll certainly get right on your picture link or be sending a note right after I stop laughing hysterically.

In the meantime, I came across this list on one of my mil/political blogs and it gave me a laugh speaking deeply to my own inner smartass.

Happy Monday, peeps!

I used to eat a lot of natural foods until I learned that most people die of natural causes.

Gardening Rule: When weeding, the best way to make sure you are removing a weed and not a valuable plant is to pull on it.

If it comes out of the ground easily, it is a valuable plant.

The easiest way to find something lost around the house is to buy a replacement.

Never take life seriously. Nobody gets out alive anyway.

There are two kinds of pedestrians: the quick and the dead.

The only difference between a rut and a grave is the depth.

Health nuts are going to feel stupid someday, lying in hospitals dying of nothing.

Have you noticed since everyone has a camcorder these days no one talks about seeing UFOs like they used to?

Whenever I feel blue, I start breathing again.

All of us could take a lesson from the weather. It pays no attention to criticism.

In the 60’s, people took acid to make the world weird. Now the world is weird and people take Prozac to make it normal.

How is it one careless match can start a forest fire, but it takes a whole box to start a campfire?

Who was the first person to look at a cow and say, “I think I’ll squeeze these dangly things here, and drink whatever comes out?”

Who was the first person to say, “See that chicken there? I’m gonna eat the next thing that comes outta its butt.”

Why is there a light in the fridge and not in the freezer?

If Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares, why is there a song about him?

If quizzes are quizzical, what are tests?

Do illiterate people get the full effect of Alphabet Soup?

Did you ever notice that when you blow in a dog’s face, he gets mad at you, but when you take him on a car ride, he sticks his head out the window?

Why doesn’t glue stick to the inside of the bottle?

I have been a very bad blogger on Hope Radio.

NO.

No spankings necessary.

I have lots of reasons.

Wanna hear them?

No?

Good I'll tell you anyway.

One: Been busy building Castra Praetoria for my bro, Mike. He's a pain in my ass the perfect little brother. Go see though. It's a great site, if I don't say so myself. Of course, I will say so, but go anyway. Leave comments. He whines if he doesn't get them likes those.

Two: Wound licking. Plain and simple. Not going to Iraq to work, quitting my job, being home with waaaaay too much time on my hands...you there privy, just shhhhhhhh, k? The money was supposed to buy your silence. 'Member? Don't make me use my mean face.

Three: HTML hell. Where this abomination of man is concerned, I am one glasslicking, helmet wearing, short school bus riding individual. Throw in forty-one year old hormonal fluctuations and you have the making of a miniseries or a lawsuit for my gross lack of political correctness by description.

Four: Four words: Science fair times three. I've trademarked it as the next chemical free form of birthcontrol. "You want what, honey? Here let me show you these clever display boards..."Yep. Feel free to thank me now. When I'm famous I won't have time to accept your gratitude. So. It was ugly. We as parents managed to avoid felony convictions. We solaced ourselves with plans to make it all look like an accident.

Well and we drank.

Heavily.

Then just 'cause so the Universe likes to keep us honest, two of three brought home first place ribbons. Little fu...

Five: Gearing up on the milsupport thing again. I had closed up shop on that and while I don't have as many people to shake down ask for help as I did before as a homeschooler, I did put up a Paypal button. I'll be writing more about this soon. There are telltale signs up on the blog as to the who and what we will be doing, but I'll save that for tomorrow.

Six: Jay and Dana. I've been all cracked out on social media. It's their fault, the pushers! Jay introduced Twitter and Facebook and Dana delivered the death blow a few posts later. It you haven't, you oughta. I won't even try to explain Tweetdeck, but duuuude--you gotta check it out.

Seven: I was in D.C. at a milblog conference. Talk about FUN. It was really awesome to meet people I had read or talked to online for in many cases at least a couple of years. At one point a video website, pulled me aside to do an interview regarding Castra Praetoria. Ugh. If I knew I looked and sounded like that I'd never leave the house. Blech. Still though it was like hanging out with rockstars. I also got to see an old university doormate/friend who lives in DC. The only down side to the whole thing aside from the video mugging was that I didn't get to really look around. I was in the hotel most of the time attending sessions.

There were other excuses reasons I had, but I accidentally deleted this post and I have to get going around here. My girl is getting her First Communion today. Sigh. Yet ANOTHER post. Still not sure how I'm going with that.ha.

I'll leave you with an exchange between Mike and my Littlest Guy. They have a brownie rivalry now going into the end of it's second year. Notice this picture in the header? Yeah it was taken post, "I'll just take a little of Mike's brownie he'll never notice" assault. All manner of threats and saber rattling ensued when I sent the pic and short note in regards to the delay in brownie mailout. It's been on ever since.

Present Day: Seems Mike was having a less than stellar day yesterday so I sent him a picture of brownies coming out of the oven. This sort of thing gives him warm fuzzies copious amounts of testosterone will cause him to deny publicly. Which of course, I am always compelled to exploit. Therefore, I then had to send him this picture shortly thereafter.

It was met with a loving reply imbued with the spirit of jarhead sharing and generosity:

"If that little troll eats my trash, I'll down him."

PS. There was a casualty when I switched templates--well aside from font size and bolding issues I put in for help on...if you comment...would you comment and leave me your URLs for my blogroll? Pretty please? It will make things a little faster to put ya'll back up. TIA! xo