SgtBeesWife is a Great Big Nut Job!

Monday's Thursday Thirteen

2009-08-10T15:41:00.000-07:00

1. We were working on getting to Atlanta last Thursday and by the time we got to the hotel and hit the ground, we were running full-steam. I will be updating today and again this Thursday.

2. We went to Atlanta on a marriage and family retreat with other members of the battalion. The retreat was a great chance for us to get a quick vacation in before school and football and Travis' new baby Soldiers really got into their cycle. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we had a great time. We got to the hotel (which was great, by the way), checked in, had dinner and then we had a session for the couples. Friday before 6:30 was free time for the families. Most of them went to Six Flags (as we did). We got back, cleaned up, had dinner and then another session. Saturday we had sessions until 2:45, then we took the kids to the weenie mall by the hotel, came back and then we had date night. We got back on the bus Sunday around 11 and got home about 4 yesterday.

3. Travis seemed to think after our first two sessions of the retreat that it was geared more toward newer couples and couples who have had problems in the past. By the time Saturday was over, I think he changed his mind a little. We both agree that we took a lot away from the retreat. Chaplain Josh did a fabulous job, as did his wife, Katie, who helped him teach a couple of the sessions. Thanks for all your hard work!

4. The retreat was sponsored by the Chaplains' program. Everyone that signed up knows what military Chaplains "do." Everyone that signed up knows that Chaplains are ordained ministers. Why then, were they so mad when the Chaplain brought a tiny bit of God into the sessions. He actually made an effort to keep the teaching as neutral as he could and he told us he was going to shy away from forcing the religious side of things out of respect for those who do not practice religion. Yes, he did make some references, but he truly made an effort to make our classes as benign as he was able.

5. I think I may have the dining room ready for use either tomorrow or Wednesday. When we moved in, the movers needed a room to put the things which didn't have a "room" in which to belong since we down-sized so much. So, the dining room became a dumping ground for our orphaned crap. Orphaned crap is really hard to deal with. The treadmill is in our bedroom and it is the home for the stuff that used to live in the floor-to-ceiling shelving in our master bedroom in Texas. They are all things which hold huge importance to us (kids' trophies, yearbooks, the vases Travis got me in Korea, Travis' father's flag from his casket, toys my grandfather made and stuff like that). I have no Earthly idea where I am going to fit it all, but I will work something out.

6. I think Nolan's first football practice went pretty well. It killed me to not stay, but I left. I severed the umbilical cord. Then I got lost in the Shandon area. I want to live in Shandon. Had I stayed, I would have been among about two dozen parents to remain on-campus and watch their kids. I think Nolan needed me to go. He also didn't know that I got back half an hour before practice was over so I parked (and he didn't see me) and watched from the truck. He did pretty well. Thanks to his previous football coaches and Coach Avery from wrestling at Fort Bliss, as well as the Dad-man for his conditioning. He is not the biggest kid on the field for the first time in a long time. He is not the slowest and his skill level is pretty much spot-on. He used his hustle and I am proud of him.

7. Shandon rocks. If our stupid house in Texas would sell, we would SO live in Shandon. Travis and I agreed over the weekend that we don't live in the ghetto. Our complex deserves two words. Ghet Toh.

8. I have laughed more belly-laughs in the last week than I have in a super-long time. My Travis is really funny.

9. We might be making a quick trip to Charleston over the weekend if we get the time and a chance to escape. I am excited. We are going to take the little pups, so we can't do anything major, but we are planning to use the trip as a recon mission for a future trip.

10. I think I might like to go to Fayetteville this weekend to visit the brother in-law and his family soon. I haven't seen him or his branch of the fam since 1995. Nolan has never met any of them. Amanda doesn't remember them.

11. I am so excited school starts a week from today. You really have no idea.

12. I am thinking about looking for a job once the house is completely unpacked. I am not sure yet, still thinking, but I wont be taking anything that requires me to be out of the house on weekends or when Travis or the kids are home. They are my first priority.

13. I still have crappy phone service on my cell at the apartment. This morning I was talking to my mother. In our 45 minute conversation, we were disconnected six times. Yes, six. I don't want to get a phone line until we are ready to get our internet connection up. We aren't ready for the internet connection, so we deal with crappy cell phone service. Please be patient. Plus, I don't really have the extra time to talk right now, until I am done with the house and the kids are in school.Love you guys!

Truck Crew Woo-Hoo!

2009-07-15T13:50:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting in one of my collapsable chairs I use for the kids' sporting events. Man, have these things seen some miles. The truck crew guys asked three times if they were going on the truck. I had to fight the urge to pierce their forearms with plastic forks at the thought of them taking my chairs. Without them, it is Floor City and that just wont work for me.

Please remember that I am an Army move virgin and am entitled to my amazement at all I've witnessed today. I will NEVER do a move again on our own, unless it is the retirement move and we stand to make some serious dollarage off of it. Otherwise, heck no.

Monday was day one of the packing. Two guys came and worked. The did the family room, dining room, kitchen and part of the laundry/storage room. They were not prepared for the wealth of useless crap we have. They just had no idea it was possible for one woman to have nine wardrobe boxes. For herself. I think they know now. They were also amazed at the kitchen-ware. I love to cook, I love to try new cooking techniques and we love to entertain. What better way to open our hearts to people than to open our home to them and feed them? So, they came, they packed, we kicked their... Oh, too easy.

Monday, I was so tired from not having slept that I actually fell asleep on the couch for about ten minutes. I know we aren't supposed to do that, but I did that. I was so honkin' tired. After I woke up I sat. That's all. I just sat. When I was done sitting, I sat a little more. Then Kelly and Big Tommy came by to chat and give me instructions for their house and bird. Then they left. And I sat. Glorious indeed, sitting.

Tuesday, I was slightly less tired, but still reasonably so. I slept on the couch because my bed still had Mount Crap-amonjaro on top of it and because I was afraid if I slept in my bed I would sleep right through my alarm.

The same two guys showed up but they brought a friend with them. They must not have liked him very much because they made him do our bedroom all by himself. The only times I saw him were coming in first thing in the morning, leaving for their lunch break, coming back in and leaving at the end of the day. He must have a Master of Crappology degree. I didn't think they were ever-EVER-going to get done packing. And then, I blinked and they were finished. Amazing.

I had enough energy yesterday to not crash during the packing. But, I had yet to surf my couch enough. So, I sat. I played on the computer. I played Connect Four on the little hand-held game thing. I watched General Hospital from start to finish (way to go Spinnelli!). I wrote a blog. Then, I sat. I may never do another thing again. It is so nice to sit.

After the packers finished and left, we sat for a while and rested from our exhausting day, then I ran an errand and grabbed some turkey from the freezer and went to the pantry for the pasta and canned tomatoes. Woops! They were gone. I forgot, packers pack. They pack almost everything. Thankfully Kelly had told me that not only was I entitled to use her kitchen and her pots and pans to cook our dinners, she gave me permission to access her well-stocked pantry. Yay for Kelly! So, we got to their house, the kids got in the pool and I got to cooking. Then we sat and ate. Then we sat.

I slept on the couch again last night for fear I wouldn't wake up with my alarm. I went to get the clock to set it in the family room so I would be sure to wake up in time because they told me the truck crew would be here earlier than the packers. They were. I was on time, but not because I had my alarm clock. I forgot to snag it before the packers could get to it and it got packed. Somehow, I woke up ten minutes before my cell phone alarm was set to ring. That's amazing since I have been known to sleep through three alarms at a time. I have no idea how. I just know that it happens. And, I used to get up at 3am to go to work. And I could get up then. And I got up this morning.

The truck crew got here and got their hustle on. Llet me tell you, they are fast and efficient. My 2390 square feet of crap hardly takes up any of the trailer. Seriously, I am in shock. Mine is the first of three loads going on this truck. The other two are pickups in south Texas heading for Florida. I am the last drop. So, that means no warehousing (applause). They are trying to work out their route to have our delivery to us as soon as possible, and I am not pushing. I will let them tell me when they will be there with our stuff. They are really doing a good job. They were exceptionally pleased to find out that we are in a ground-floor apartment and that we will have a sliding glass door. We had some minor issues getting my couch out of the house because it is, apparently, huger than huge.

At about 12:45 I looked at the clock and thought to myself I should hurry inside instead of lounging in my chair in the shade in the driveway so I could catch today's episode of General Hospital. So, at five 'til, I did. I was crushed to see that the TV (which I watched them wrap, pack and load onto the truck) was gone. Dang. No General Hospital this afternoon.

They may take my alarm clock. They may take my TV. They may try to take my collapsable chairs. But, they will NEVER take my laptop.

155

2009-07-15T01:07:00.001-07:00

There are about 155 boxes of stuff in our house. Our furniture is here and we can access some of it, some we can’t. The floors look awful from the trash, but what’s the point in picking it up since tomorrow the carpet will be trampled on all over again? The curtains are down, cupboards are bare and the batteries from our stuff are out and all over the place. This is really about to happen. The truck will be here tomorrow to load and drive out.

Tonight we went to the Oakleys to care for their bird and so I could let the kids swim, hoping they would wear themselves out a little and go to bed without much fuss. The Oakleys came home Sunday from their cross/cross country trip (which took them from here to Alabama to Florida to Alabama to Utah and back here), only to get the news of a death in the family as they were coming back from Utah. They got their leave approved and went back to Alabama for the services. They left the two older boys in the care of another friend so they could practice for football and track. They stopped by while we were there and I think tonight was the last time we would see them before we pull out Friday. I won’t see Kelly (their mother) again before we go.

I also got a call from K-Po checking in on us. She told me that every day she gets a little sadder at the thought of our leaving. Kori and I have been friends for six/seven-ish years. Most of her good friends have also left Fort Bliss over the last year or so, so this move is impacting her doubly hard. I’ve known them since their youngest was just a few months old, pretty much all his life.

Then there are my friends from radio- Mr. Randy and Patty. They are the two I have kept tabs on and kept in-touch with (when I’ve been on the ball). I am pretty sure I wont be able to visit with them before we go. But, I love them anyway.

I may never do another St. Jude Radio-thon again. Since the first year I worked at KHEY I worked on the RT and have loved every single minute of it. I love going back to the station and helping them raise money for the best charity in the world. I believe in sinking my heart into this organization because I have seen for myself the miracles they work every day. The kids melt my heart and the mothers and fathers convince me (without even trying) that pieces of heaven are truly here on Earth.

I got fat here, had a baby here, got not fat here, put my husband on planes bound for places I will never visit while uncertain of what the future would bring us, got cancer and got well again, all here. In fourteen years, the majority of my life’s milestones have taken place here, in El Paso. It has been my home but it hasn’t felt that way since Travis left for Fort Jackson.

Even with all that and so much more I wont have the time to talk about, I can’t be sad at leaving. I will truly miss my good friends and you have no idea how much anxiety I have over leaving my doctors, but I feel light and liberated and energized. I am sure there will be some tears flowing somewhere along Interstates 10 and 20, but in every sense of the phrase, the time is indeed now.

I am one of the lucky ones. I married a man who is best described as the total package. He is hot. He is panty-evaporation hot. He is strong and confident. He is loving. He is a great father. He is an achiever. He knows how to love me. And, he loves me well.

How can joining him not outweigh all the sad things about leaving? I am not trying to slight anyone; quite the contrary. I actually am feeling a little guilty that I am so elated to leave. I’ll be rejoining my life already in progress.

But, I just want you all to know how much you do mean to me. Pieces of you have helped form me into who I am. You have encouraged me, helped me hold it together, helped me grow and heal and I know that it will be a very long time before I see some of you again. And 155 boxes cannot contain my overflowing heart.

Mud Flaps

2009-07-14T09:28:00.000-07:00

Walking about this fashion season I’ve noticed a new trend. Well, hardly new, but coming on strong with a renewed sense of entitlement. This leads me to today’s topic of discussion- shorty shorts. And shorty-shorts aren’t really the problem. The real source of my agony are the frequent, on-going, never-ending, constant display of mud flaps.

What are mud flaps, you ask? Mud flaps are the low cheek. The butt stuff that hangs out the bottom of shorty shorts on those who should not be wearing shorty shorts. Seriously, another two or three inches of fabric and no one would know if you have mud flaps or not. Ahh. Mud flaps.

Over the last few years I have mentioned on many occasions how the season’s current trends (any season) are showcasing the worst in people. Some you may remember- tiny t-shirts, nobras, nipple-rama, tramp-stamps, Asian-inspired tattoos (not everyone has the sign for “eternal love” and “tranquility”- some smart alec tattooist has, I am sure, taken creative license and made them read things like “likes it rough” and “syphilis carrier”), low-rise jeans, big girls in low-rise jeans, teensy panty pantylines, pantylines overall, sausage panties, camel toes, showing bra straps under spaghetti straps, wearing dirty nasty horse harness bras under ball gowns (even strapless ones), skin belts (also known as muffin-tops, mushroom tops, hangovers, foldovers and gut waterfalls). This one has me particularly perturbed.

What, you may ask is the real problem with shorty shorts/mud flaps? Duh, I am sick of seeing them. It is an important key to all of this to recall that I don’t care who you are and what you look like, I don’t want to see you naked. I don’t want to see any part of you that I don’t ask to see. I don’t even really like going to the pool because swimsuits are one step closer to naked. No, not a prude, not having anything to do with faith or religion- just don’t wanna see your twins, your booty or your crack.

Why would any woman seek out shorts which are so short that when worn, they allow your inner thigh thing (which most of us do acquire after a few years of good livin’ or popping out a couple o’ babies, and is not the mud flaps to which I refer, but are also deserving of an honorable mention) to wave like Old Glory right there between your legs? Maybe women don’t know. Maybe we, as a society of women who love ourselves, should start telling each other, in a loving way, when our asses are making a cameo appearance? Maybe we shouldn’t take it to heart when someone tells us we look stupid?

When one wears shorty shorts in public, it always piques my interest. They do realize, these women, that should they need to sit, while wearing shorty shorts in public, their fannies will be dangerously close to touching the dangerous regions of someone else who sat there before them who was also wearing shorty shorts? We live in the desert. Desert=sweaty. Mmmm, sweaty butts. Sounds good, don’t it? Yeah, I’ll have a Crispy Ranch Salad with croutons, a small fries and a side order of Swamp Ass. Sign me up.

Yeah, I get that it is hard to look at our backsides in the mirror, but seriously? Really? That is the best looking thing you could put on today? Ick. What about the hand test? Reach back there and feel the horror for yourself, for goodness sakes.

There are people of all shapes and sizes who can get away with shorty shorts. Honestly, there’s some bigguns out there who can wear shorty shorts and look great and more power to them. Me, not one of those girls. And I appreciate that and I know it and I would never inflict that type of discomfort on the people around me. So, it isn’t really a size issue (although it could be). In fact, there’s a way healthy dose of skinny chicks out there who are wearing the shorty shorts whose mud flaps are incredibly offensive. In fact, many a deflated mud flap has often made me nauseated. And, what are these mud flaps, anatomically speaking? Are they the actual butt cheeks or are they like an appendage? Are they a residual cheek? A secondary growth? These are the questions we will ponder into eternity.

My daughter has two pairs of shorty shorts she inherited (because I wont buy them). They are borderline shorty shorts. They are just long enough that I don’t want to puke when I see them on her, but they teeter on the edge of Pepto. I allow it as long as I don’t see the perpetual creepage, but bleah. Grody. My neice, gorgeous Barbie-esque statue of smoldering hotness wears them and looks great, but the vast majority of us don't be lookin' like her. Tuck 'em in, ladies. Tuck. Them. In.

So, what’s a girl like me to do? I guess I’ll keep blogging about them. I’ll keep trying to avert my eyes when I am able. I will, inside my head, encourage these women to tuck their butt cheeks inside their panties. I will pray for new fashion trends when I pray for world peace and to win the Publishers’ Clearing House Grand Prize. Maybe one day the shorty short will be a thing of the past.

Until then, I’ll just keep watching for tattoos of Yosemite Sam and the phrase “Back Off.”

Listing

2009-07-14T08:19:00.000-07:00

I am out of my comfort zone, but somehow relaxed and content at all that is happening around me. We have today and tomorrow and cleaning on Thursday and then we go. In honor of our new home, I wish to make a list. Remember, making lists makes me happy. I figure I can top-off my happy tank now and I'll just be bursting with happiness.

THINGS I ALREADY LOVE ABOUT SOUTH CAROLINA:

1. A husband within a close proximity.

2. Said it before, sayin' it again- Real air conditioning.

3. Not having to read Payless Shoe Source window signs in Spanish. Only Spanish at some stores. it will be nice. I am not opposed to Spanish, I speak some Spanish, but seriously, all the signs?

4. Not having to fix things around our house. Oh, you have no idea. I could make a whole list of just things I hate fixing around the house. (among those things-anything requiring the use of a cordless drill, weed-eaters [however, lawn mowers are ok], baseboards [my own personal hell], jobs requiring epoxy or any other type of bonding agent, installing bathroom fixtures, holding electrical wire nuts for Travis, etc.)

5. Someone else can change the light bulbs. I hate changing light bulbs and with the advent of the more costly, but so much longer lasting compact flourescents, I do light bulb changing much less frequently, but still, I hate changing them regardless of the intervals in between changings.

6. Another driver and another vehicle. Heaven.

7. The husband thing.

8. Our place is about 10 minutes from post, like here in Texas, but the grocery stores, WalMart, and every other convenience is even closer than they are to us here. I'm talking right across the street close.

9. Close to old friends and family.

10. There's a full-service fitness center at the apartment complex, no driving required!See, happy happy!

T13 Woopsie

2009-07-11T23:51:00.000-07:00

1. My whole purpose for starting to do the Thursday 13 was to be more diligent about blogging. Again, blogging is a form of therapy for me and I enjoy it, so I should be doing it more. I spaced this week on Thursday. So, today we do T13 on Saturday.

2. Thanks to Cathleen and the other lady (sorry, spaced on her name) who are tried and true Army moving pros. They let me know that it is OK for me to not have everything organized and perfectly clean and wonderful for the packers. After all, they are packers and packing is what they do. Apparently, there are Army peeps who have had packers pack dirty dishes for a move, garbage cans full of trash, and all kinds of things I would never dream of packing. Apparently my "worst" is someone else's "best." I find this incredibly disturbing and disgusting. But, thanks to the ladies, I will not spend tomorrow wigging out about my imperfections as I have for the last four days (or more, I forget). I am just going to clear out the bedroom with the stuff we will be transporting and mark the room for them to not pack it, rifle through my closet for anything I might have missed, pack up our medicine cabinet, pack our suitcases and wait for the movers to come. I swear, God must have known I needed these ladies to give me the rundown because I have been working my nalgas to the bone.

3. I was reminded tonight that FRGs are both necessary and mind-numbingly retarded at the same time.

4. During one of my chemical meltdowns today my bed became the launching pad for ten tons of mish-mashed crap. What do you think the odds are that I will be sleeping on my bed tonight?

5. Terry (my friend's son) qualified for the National Junior Olympic Team Qualifying in Greensboro, NC today at the Regional Qualifier (which is the event both my kids had qualified for). We may be housing six house guests the weekend after we move into our new apartment if the entire family comes along. Five of the guests are the Oakleys and the other is the throwing coach. I guess I'm gonna be getting a move on once we land in SC! Actually, I am excited about this.

6. I still have three loads of laundry on the line right now. That means I have to get them down, get them put away and put the load in the washer out before I can sleep wherever I am going to sleep tonight.

7. I told Travis last night that I would see him in a week. This is highly exciting to me. I hope it is highly exciting for you too. If not, oh well.

8. The Chihuahuas are freaking out. Their house is upside down and their kennels got moved to the no-pack room today. They are not adjusting well. I hope they get the hang of it on the other end.

9. Amanda came to me today and asked me what to do with the, "...stuff in this box?" It was a Motorola Star-Tac box which was housing our first six or seven cell phones. For some reason, I told her to keep them. I have no idea why and no idea what the heck we are going to do with them, but whatever.

10. You should try the Kettle Chips Cracked Black Pepper and Sea Salt chips I had @ CG's house tonight. Holy crap, they is good!

11. I also highly recommend the Asian slaw thingie the lady who was telling me about moving made. No, I don't have the recipe, but it was good. I mean good! Napa cabbage (shredded), scads of green onions, buttered and baked ramen noodles and almond slivers tossed with a sweet white wine vinegar dressing. I could have eaten the whole bowl of it. I was ticked I ate a hamburger before-hand because it filled me up.

12. My truck has been acting up again. Different problem than I fixed last week. I think this might be the alternator. I can't fix that. Anyone up for the happy truck prayer?

13. I sleepy

Ting Tang Walla Walla Bing Bang

2009-07-06T07:41:00.003-07:00

Whole lotta shakin' goin' on...So, the movers come in a week from right now to start packing us up. I am frettfully (or is it fretfully?) concerned that we will be overweight on the move and be in some way financially responsible for the overage. Thusly, this week begins Perge-a-tor-y. Everything I have put out on the curb in the last week has been gone in relatively quick fashion from the junk pickers. That works for me. I could hold a yard sale, but why? Every yard sale I've held in this city has resulted in little more than my own astronomical frustration with mankind. So, I take the worthy items to the thrift shop (where I know I will make a bit of cash) and junk the rest on the curb.

I need to remove the nail polish from my fingernails. It is quite chipped right now and very "White Trash." I can't find the nail polish remover. AGAIN. I am guessing (off the top of my head, no confirmation on it whatsoever, simply speculation, a hunch-if you will) that its disappearance may have something to do with the presence of a teenage female in my home. That's what happened last time I couldn't find any. It hardly seems right to go buy a new bottle of remover because space in the truck is scarce and the movers wont take liquidsl... So, the dilema at hand; break down and buy the smallest, cheapest remover I can find and not look like trash or just roll with it? I am sure you'll find me at WalMart before too long. On a side note, my nails look fabulous. Even the one I broke when I was working on my truck last week filed down nicely. I think it all has to do with the new polish I got a while back when I resigned myself to not getting a pedicure because I was cutting costs where I was able. The polish about which I rave is Nicole by O.P.I. Yes, that O.P.I. And the polish is that good. I have natural nails and if I clear-coat, my manicure will last at least a week. Pedis are lasting until I remove the polish. Yay!

Somehow I managed to wind up with exactly the amount of protiens we will eat before we leave. I have no idea how that worked out, but I love that it did. I don't mind giving my fridge and freezer contents away when we go, but I love that I wont have to give that much away. I've been trying to plan for our departure every time I go for groceries. Yay!

I am so excited to leave. I am so not excited at everything I have to do in order to make leaving possible. Like an idiot, I scheduled my kids' annual sports/school physicals for tomorrow and Wednesday. What on this green earth was I thinking? Like I have time to stop everything to go to the TMC to sit and wait on whomever to get this done and get us outta there. On the flip-side, I wont have to do them in SC when I am frantically trying to register the kids and put my home back together again. This one's a tie.I've never lived in an apartment before. I am a little nervous about it, but excited too. Just think, I'll be able to call someone when something breaks instead of having to fix it my dang self or begging Travis to do to it, which he would, but we have to work around the Army's schedule and all. Someone will be cutting the grass. Someone will be fixing the running potty. Someone else will be responsible for everything. AND, we'll have refrigerated air. I simply think that is marvellous. I haven't had refrigerated air in almost 14 years, since we moved to El Paso from a place where sane people live. Angels sing today because I will have refrigerated air. I will not join them because I love you and the safety of your eardrums.

I had to put on a real bra today. I think I am in mourning. I have to head out and run errands at real places, not just the WalMart or grocery stores. I always wear a bra, lest I frighten small children, however putting on a real one today instead of a sports-bra really chapped my hide. I guess I could call it what my nephew does- chub rub. Wearing a real bra really gives me chub rub. Hmm, not sure if it is a good fit. Anyway, it is safe to stop by today, I'm appropriately constrained.

I have an insatiable ache to bake right now. Baking is very comforting to me. All, I mean everything, in todos, absolutely all of my scrapbooking stuff (yes, all) is packed up and waiting for transport, so I can't detox there. I think the upheaval of next week is starting to get to me. Of course, my rear would love some baking too. Maybe next time, I'll just sit on whateve I bake and save my body some time and energy, since that's where it all goes anyway.

I'm still ticked about my bangs. I mentioned earlier that my newly shorn bangs make me look like Natasha from "Rocky and Bullwinkle." They so do. I didn't go to the fabulous Beth for my last haircut. My mother wanted to treat me to a fresh cut while she was in town and Beth was a bit out of both of our price ranges, so we went to the beauty school. The girl did a great job on everything, other than she didn't cut it short enough in back and the bangs came right off the kindergarted playground after the first scissors lesson. UGH. Beth is so worth the money. AND I AM LEAVING THE ONLY PERSON TO DO MY HAIR IN THE LAST EIGHT YEARS, aside from the chickie-poo at the beauty school, AND I AM A LITTLE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THAT. slightly. AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Do you think Beth would move with us?

Anyway, I had hoped to arrive in Columbia with a sleek and sexy haircut, 50 pounds lighter, tanned and toned, with buckets full of cash. I hope Travis isn't disappointed. All he's getting is me.

Thursday Thirteen, Part Deux

2009-07-02T18:36:00.001-07:00

1. OK, so there's actually a Thursday Thirteen link thing that I am supposed to insert and link to and all that jazz, and then all of you are supposed to click on the link and join up and write your own T13 and then we are all supposed to learn something new about each other every Thursday. Yeah, I'm lucky to get my pictures of my memory card before I miss something good. Do T13 if you want. Don't if you don't. No one will die as a result of either choice.

2. I am pooped out. My mother left yesterday and I puttered around and ran some errands and did some stuff that needed doing and did some laundry. Amazingly, I don't really remember any of what I did, other than I did it.

3. Today, I do remember what I did. And did. And did. And I am pooped out (in case my first reference to the fact went unnoticed). My back hurts and I feel like I haven't slept in a week.

4. Oh, that's right. I've not had a GOOD night's sleep in WAY over a week. Could be why I feel like I haven't slept in a week.

5. I am not anticipating problems with insomnia tonight.

6. The Oakleys have a pool in their back yard. God bless them and their hungry cockatoo and their pool.

7. My front hall closet, which houses everything that doesn't have a real home, all the Christmas stuff, jackets, excess clothing (mine, which doesn't fit in the other two closets), bike helmets, umbrellas, extra hangers, the old stereo receiver (which I don't think I am "allowed" to get rid of), 6003 feet of coaxil cable, our old camcorder and Travis' old drag racing helmet (also, think I am "supposed" to keep), now looks half-empty. Dang, I am good.

8. Living in El Paso presents some absolute perks. At any given time on any given day, a person can place things they deem as junk on their front curb and within a matter of mere hours, someone will come by and take it away, thereby removing the need to make a trip to the dump. Thank you, junk pickers, me and people like me across this forsaken city appreciate you for your insatiable need to collect other peoples' cast-offs. You rock!!

9. I only have three items together to take to the thrift shop. I have a gajillion things I could take, but only three have made it to the bag thus far. That, my friends, is not worth the trip.

10. Today marks only two more Thursdays as a Texan. I am kinda freaking out. In a good way. Sorta.

11. There are a select few things I will miss about El Paso and Fort Bliss: my friends and some of the kids I have come to know through my rugrats, a mountain view no matter where you are in town, reasonably decent Mexican food joints on EVERY corner, the bread markdown cart at WalMart, mild winters (usually), being less than a day's drive from home and living in a house which is really much larger than I need.

12. I have a lot of crap. I realize now that if the movers break or ruin most of it, I will be OK with that because although I waited 15 years to get my big girl furniture and leave the modern-neo-classical-garage-sale collection behind, it is all just stuff. The list of important things is really short (in no particular order)- pictures, scrapbooks and scrapping stuff, heirlooms, the quilts my mother and grandmother made, the furniture my grandpa made and a very little bit of my Polish pottery and bowl collection. That's it. Simple, huh? The full-replacement value clause helps too.

13. I really dig my husband.

Thursday Thirteen

2009-06-25T23:08:00.000-07:00

1. I have been very lazy about writing lately, which bothers me. Hopefully doing the Thurs13 will inspire me to be more consistent with writing. Therapy, I tell you!

2. It isn't Thursday any more where I am right now. Thursday left 30 minutes ago. Now, taking that into consideration, I have three Thursdays left as a Texan.

3. I am contemplating not leaving Texas until July 17. Travis is competing in the Army Ten-Miler Fort Jackson Qualifier on the morning of the 18th. If I leave on the 16th, he will be up late on the night of the 17th waiting for us to get there. I want him to do well because he wants to do well. I would rather not keep him up that night.

4. We went to see "Angels and Demons" at the theater on-post tonight/last night (depending on how you look at it). It was good. It wont change the world, but it was good and I loved the cinematography. Way cool.

5. Tomorrow and Saturday are our last sporting events in Texas. Whew.

6. I did laundry today, pretty much all day, and I still have more to do.

7. Swamp coolers and humidity= cranky Stacie. 'Nuff said.

8. I had coupons for free coffee thingies at McDonald's so I took the kids there after track for a caffiene fix. I hate coffee, but they both like it. The lady at the window who took my order, who I always joke with, stamped the card four times. She rocks.

9. I made great BBQ pork sandwiches tonight using cheapie country-style ribs. I did a dry rub, crock-potted them, trimmed them up and shredded them, sauced them, and then we had them on whole-wheat buns. They rocked! Sadly, no BBQ remains.

10. Tomorrow is another fun-filled errand day before noon, then prep-mode for the track meet, then the 1st session of the track meet.

11. Dear Lord, Please help it not be scorching-hot at the UTEP track stadium tomorrow. Amen.

12. Dear Lord, Please help it not be scorching-hot at the UTEP track stadium Saturday. Amen.

13. Surprisingly, with as much as I have to say, I barely could come up with 13 different points to mention. Something must be wrong wtih me.

Starving into Chunkdom

2009-05-20T12:48:00.000-07:00

Its no great secret that one of the prerequisites for membership in our family is that one must be "robust," if you will. Hello, we all know my past and one of the reasons Travis began triathlons was weight control. Amanda is by no means fat, but she does watch her activitiy levels to ensure she doesn't gain, which she is prone to do. Nolan has always been complex.

I've used dietary methods to control his asthma and behavior in the past. Truly and honestly, that did work for him. When I was mistakenly diagnosed as a Celiac I made drastic dietary changes to my own diet, then omitted gluten from the kids' diets when a doctor suspected they might be as well. After genetic testing, we were pronounced OK (thankfully), but I did what we had to do to control our health. We lived.

Nolan is a big guy. He just turned twelve and is 5'6". He has grown three inches in the last five months, but only gained about eight pounds (that's awesome!). He wears the same size pants as Travis and an 8.5 or 9 shoe. I think in another six months he might just be taller than me, and I am tall- 5'8".

During our Celiac phase, the kids were seeing a pediatric gastrologist (I think that's right) who was a royal asshat. He was downright mean to the kids, especially Nolan. I've always taken great pride in the varied and healthful diets I fed the kids- lots of fresh produce, whole grains, minimal junk food and packaged foods. In front of both kids he told me the kids were both fat (yup, used that word) and that they would die if I didn't do something to get their weights under control. He told me to cut calories and carbs, to allow only minimal sugars (to include fruits) and get drastic. So, I did.

I was doing what a doctor told me to and I cut and cut and cut the calories and carbs, limited their fruits and sugary foods and I followed portion control like a crazy person. Nolan went to his sports practices and worked out three, four, sometimes five days a week. At one point, we would leave one practice which lasted about an hour and a half and go to football for two hours, two or three times a week. And he gained weight. So I became more diligent. And he gained more weight. I just about killed myself trying to "help" him and trying to figure it out, hoping that when he hit puberty he would stretch out and get a bit leaner. I've seen how he struggles and how mean other kids are. I listened to that mean doctor tell me about how I was killing my kids.

Coach Avery has been aware of Nolan's weight since November since the kids have to weigh-in for each tourney. Nolan has two wrestle kids much older than he at practice because there are no other big guys. He is immature and they have experience on the mats, and it both helped and hurt him. Coach asked me after Nolan's foot injury if he had gained weight, and he had, a bit, but it came back down when he was able to return to practice.

Last week during the kids' running practice (six one-hundred yard sprints, a three mile run, six more one-hundred yard sprints-they do it twice a week) Coach and I were talking about Nolan. Again, his weight came up and I asked him if he thought Nolan might need more calories. Most days the kids average about 1900-2300 calories. He told me that could be a part of the problem and he told me to try feeding the kids five small meals a day. I went home and did some research and found out for a kid of Nolan's stature and weight and age that he should consume about 4200-4400 calories per day to maintain his weight. TO MAINTAIN IT! Holy crap. I think I might have starved my kid's metabolism to sleep.

I decided that night to make some subtle changes. I bought some non-fat dry milk powder to add to things to boost our protein intake. I got non-fat plain yogurt and frozen fruits, whole wheat flour and just about went broke on fresh produce. I started baking some whole grain muffins and began fixing smoothies in the mornings. I chopped veggies up and put them in a container in the fridge and I keep it full. Now, they eat.

The smoothies are to give them a nutrition boost in the morning. Nolan's school serves breakfast free and he loves eating there, but their serving sizes are small and are probably only about 250 calories total for the meal. So, I make the kids each a smoothie with the NF yogurt, frozen fruit, NF milk powder, a bit of orange juice and ice. They average about 10 ounces and are about 250 calories.

I've added some additional veggies to their lunches. They were already taking carrot and celery sticks, but I got some jicama, extra cukes (I use them a lot) and broccoli and doubled what they take. I also got some cherry tomatoes for Nolan because he loves them and Amanda thinks tomatoes are the anti-Christ.

They eat again when they get home from school. I'm giving them LF cheese sticks, veggies (all they want) and a piece of fruit. And then we have our regular dinners. All in all, I think they've only gained about 500 or 600 calories per day, but I think the scheduling is just as important as the intake. And, all the calories are from clean protiens, produce and LF/NF additions.

Nolan was pissed at first about more attention to what he eats and he stayed that way all day. The next day, he had hurt feelings. Then, by Monday he was raring to go. He ate the way I had taught him and he felt great. He had an awesome practice Monday and woke up ON HIS OWN Tuesday morning when his alarm rang. And since then, he's been a different kid.

Of course, these changes could also be a result of the move going public. He is incredibly relieved that we are finally going to move. The night he found out he came to me and showed me what he was wearing to bed that night. He chose his white pajama pants with red hearts and his Fort Jackson t-shirt and asked me if I could figure it out. I grinned and said no, just so he could tell me it was that he loved Fort Jackson.

Last night was running practice. Over the last three weeks, Nolan had cut 27 minutes off thethree mile run. Yes, 27. Last night, he did both sets of sprints and the three mile run another ten minutes faster than his previous time, which was only the three miles. He finished strong, drank some water and then HE GOT TO WAIT ON HIS SISTER FOR A CHANGE!

Feed your kids. They'll stop being weenies.

JustCan'tStand*It!

2009-05-19T14:35:00.000-07:00

I walked in Haggerty and Company at 9:56, four minutes early for my appointment with Brian. The receptionist announced me and Brian appeared a couple of minutes later. I like a man who can be punctual. I like anyone who can be punctual, especially in a business setting. After a greeting and a handshake we went in his office to chat about this and that and mull over housely things.

After coming to our decision to move the family over the weekend I knew I would have to go over the particulars with Brian to make sure all the ducks were in a row. They are. He told me how our market is surging hugely and that our price bracket is not the hottest one right now. We would have to drop our price by about 3.6% to hit that, but Brian feels we may be in the right place right now. He did not encourage me to lower our price but did tell me it would increase our visibility. That is certainly something I need to discuss with Travis. But, we have time on our side and the kids and I aren't leaving until early in August. He said we don't necessarily need to drop our price until we actually vacate the house. I like that. Thumbs up. He also mentioned that the surge of troops which have just arrived here as a result of the recent BRAC at Fort Bliss have had a huge impace on real estate. The new residents are grabbing up the new home inventory and are seeking the best of the best deals. The next wave is coming very soon and he expects that by the time they are ready to make housing decisions, our new and existing home inventories will be dropping and homes like ours will be a hotter ticket. He also said that if the house has not sold by the time we move, we can do our part of the closing via e-mail and phone calls. Such a nice row.

I can't help but think I may have been grinning non-stop since Sunday. On the way to wrestling last night I couldn't stop saying stuff like, "Guess what? We're moving!" and, "Have you heard? We are leaving?" to the kids. You know, the way a little kid repeats the same Knock-knock joke over and over and over again? Or the way they say, "Guess what? Chicken butt?" Yeah, that was what I was doing. And it felt great. My eyes have misted over at least a dozen times since yesterday out of sheer joy. I*AM*MOVING!

Holy crap! I am going to have a life again. I am going to live with Travis again. With him. Holy crap!I've seen some pictures of myself taken recently and I have to say, I am looking a bit worse for the wear. I don't think it is entirely un-doable, with a little time I may be able to reverse the damage. I think I am maybe looking a bit like denim- worn, faded, maybe a bit frayed, but always reliable. I've been missing my vibrancy. Travis makes me vibrant. I can't imagine being near him and not feeling alive and colorful and full of excitement. He does that for me. How lucky am I?

My greatest pleasure will come once we settle in Columbia; once I can turn a dwelling into a refuge for him and begin to take care of him again. I love nothing more than to make dinner for him and help him detox from his day. I get to do that for him. I get to make his days easier. Lucky. I get to do that for an amazing man. And, in just under three months, I will do that on a regular basis.

I am looking forward to finding myself again. Funny, I am completely able to function on my own since I have had plenty of practice over the last seventeen years, but somehow I always find myself in Travis. I know who I am. I have confidence in myself. I do not "need" him to function. But when he is near me it feels almost like an awakening. His presence absolutely fills my heart. I will be vibrant and bright and awake and brimming.I am lucky. I am such a lucky girl.

... And There You Go

2009-05-18T14:33:00.000-07:00

My Travis is amazing. No doubt, from what you've read you can easily ascertain that for yourself, right? If not, please accept 50 lashings with a wet noodle or other lashing tool of your choosing- and keep it to yourself. I don't want any of your lashing stories to muddy up my blog or nothin'. Pervert.

Several years ago, my dear friend and former partner, Mr. Randy, made an observation of Travis. He has one mood. This one. Oh, yeah, you can't see my impression of him. Basically, the one mood is one where he sits, quietly and takes everytihng in. There may be an occasional nod or hand gesture, but the mood remains the same. If there is a beer close by, the eyes may be slightly buzz-fuzzed, but the mood- you got it, unchanged. I am sure there are many a baby Soldier who would beg to differ from Mr. Randy's interpretation and prolly a useless NCO as well, but for everyone else there is just the one mood.

It has always kind of made me giggle a bit to myself that I can be a bit timid around Travis or when I have something important to talk to him about. I am NOT afraid of him in any regard and we can talk about anything. I just hate anything that would jolt him from The Mood, and I forget that there is not much that will cause the jolting. But, this weekend, after mulling it over and over and over in my own head for the last two weeks, I just kind of said it.

Travis called Sunday and it was the first time in a week that we had actually talked. We text almost daily, but it was a super-crazy week for him and with the time difference and wrestling every night and the tourney on Saturday, there wasn't much time for an actual conversation until yesterday. And boy, did we talk.

Phoenix's death opens up a lot of possibilities for us, as you may have heard me mention. Travis had purchased a car for Amanda at an awesome price and had intended to put a little money and a bit more time into it, but the time has yet to open up and the money... Well, you know. So, he decided to sell the car. Even without a working catalytic converter, it is in great shape and worth every penny of more than the $500 he would take for it (but we are asking more). It will be very easy to sell. So, sell it is. He wanted to use that money to put into the truck that currently lives with him and then finance a trip to El Paso with the possibility of taking the kids back with him and enrolling them in school there, leaving me here to finish with the house.

So, the discussion yesterday that I was afraid to initiate started with his trip here and taking the kids back and our summer plans, then I asked him how he would feel if we all came out and then we could get the kids enrolled and I would leave them there and come back to El Paso in August to finish up here, if the house hadn't sold. Then he said it, in his one-toned, one-mooded way, "Screw it, if you're coming here, you're staying here (not really exactly what he said, but I am trying to be gentle- remember, he is a crusty ole Sarge)." He told me to forget about El Paso alltogether and once we make the trip there, to stay there with him.

Our purpose for staying here was that without selling the house and all the money we lost on investments last year, we wouldn't really have the $2-3k we would need to set ourselves up in a rental house (deposits and the like), monthly rent, and pay the mortgage here. But, his apartment complex wont make us pay another deposit if we choose to upgrade to a larger apartment and they are dog friendly. And, leaving here means the utilities will go down a bunch and we wont have the $200-250 in utilities for the EP house, so we can put that toward the higher rent for another apartment. And cancelling the cable here will cut our cable bill by half, since he has it there too. So, if we are careful, keeping the house (if it hasn't sold) and moving into a larger apartment will actually wind up being slightly cheaper than the two full sets of household bills we are paying right now.

So, change of plans (if the house hasn't sold by then)- instead of Travis coming out (or maybe in addition to it), the kids and I will be relocating at the end of July or early in August permanently, or as permanent as Travis' assignment is, at least. I am so excited, in spite of the negatives. What are those? not a long list and it is really just trivial at this point, but- reduction of 1000 square feet of living space, no yard, trying to recalculate our finances AGAIN, leaving the house here empty, and the location of the complex is not exactly where we want to live and not in the school district we want. I can deal with all of it. Imagine, my family will be in one place again. I can actually be a wife again. I can move into my new ready-made life.

Closed doors. Open windows. With pine trees right outside.

Fort Jackson, SC- "Victory Starts Here"

Sighs and Signs

2009-05-14T11:54:00.000-07:00

I've hoped for a long time this nightmare would all be coming to an end soon. No real news yet, so sorry if I got you out of your chair jumping up and down and turning cartwheels or something. I've just always been such a believer in the phrase, "Things work out the way they are supposed to." I am hoping our living situation is part of that addage as well.

Although I miss Phoenix dreadfully, I knew travelling to South Carolina would be incredibly hard on her. At nearly fifteen years old and crammed in a car with two Chihuahuas, a teen, a tween and all our luggage and miscellaneous crap, the two day drive would have made her so uncomfortable. She has always been an integral part of our family and her loss is glaringly evident, but it just feels like she was never supposed to make the trip with us. She was so peaceful on her last day and I know that letting her go was the best thing for all of us.

I've had a few things on the "Things I Need to Do Before Leaving El Paso" list for a while. It seems that those things are starting to diminish. Before moving, I wanted to go to Glendale and visit my mother and on a last-minute whim over Spring Break, we picked up and went. It worked out, I didn't over-spend, the dogs did great, the truck did great and we all had a great time. I also wanted to get up to Albuquerque again as well. Nolan and I went up the last weekend of February for wrestling and got a quick visit in with both my nephew and his family and with my sister. When I said, "Quick," I meant it. Now it looks like we may have another chance to head up at the end of this month if Coach Avery decides to take the team to Albuquerque for another tourney. That would mean I could plan better for the weekend, both kids can go and with just the two little dogs, taking them with us or finding someone to keep them for us is much easier.

I've got four years of this house's crap accumulation and the ten years from before when we lived in quarters on Fort Bliss piled up around me. I've known I needed to weed through it and from time to time, I have. I've been doing a few drawers here and a shelving unit there, but this week I've been moved to get it done. This morning I did half the crap in our big dresser. I did our dressers a few weeks ago, but that was more of a rearrangment than a decrappification. Today, decrappification took over. I still need to work on the rest of the dresser, and I will, but I had to walk away for a while. After that, I started working on my closet, where darkness dwells. I don't know why the sudden urge to purge is striking me now, but I am glad it is. I do not want to take any more useless junk along for the ride again.

Our last wrestling tourney will either be this weekend or at the end of the month (remember?), so the season is winding down nicely and just in time for summer. School lets out the second week of June. Travis has been planning to make a trip out and timing with the unit has gotten in the way twice. He is now hoping to be able to make the trip in early June. He also mentioned taking the kids back with him. I nearly had a stroke when I thought about not having the kids with me, but I had to remind myself what the last fifteen months have been like for him. He has not had any family with him, aside from the eight days we visited last June, for the duration of this assignment. He is the one who always has to leave the kids. This may actually work out well. If the kids do go back with him and the house has not yet sold, Travis can enroll them in school there and they can start the year without being disrupted by moving. Also, he can request stabilization if Amanda is attending her Sophomore year of high school in the same city as his assignment. Requesting doesn't mean we will get it, but still, we can make a request. Plus, his apartment complex will allow dogs under 25 pounds, so if we want to stay for an extended visit, we can. Win/win.

Brian and I spoke a couple of days ago. He is holding another open house this weekend and maybe a third next weekend. The family that made the offer is still considering their options and we are still a prospect. He is stll in regular contact with their agent. I am confident he will have the house sold within our contract term. It expires in mid-July. I am not stressed the way I was with our previous agent. I stay pretty relaxed and feel like he is doing everything he needs to do to unload this house for us.

I go on CraigsList regularly to look at rentals in South Carolina. After Travis being there for so long, he has a great idea of where he wants us to live based on the schools and safety and various other things. We know we will be renting until he retires because I am not willing to go through anything like this ever again. So, rentals... I want a four bedroom with more than 1800 square feet. I know what we can afford and I have very strict criteria regarding the style of home I want. I need a house big enough so that if and when my mother is ready to move in with us, she wont feel cramped or like she is putting us out. I found that house months ago on Craigs, but we were not ready to go and I sat, looking at the listing for about five weeks. It was the perfect house. Two days ago, I saw the listing posted again. It will be available in June. It is a four bedroom with a FROG (Furnished Room Over Garage- essentially a fifth bedroom), 2500+ square feet, two-car garage, fenced back yard, 2.5 bath, laundry room and EVERYTHING ELSE! And, once we sell this house, we can easily afford it. I am trying not to get excited. The picture of the house is the house I found. It is awesome!

So, falling into place, or luck or God or whatever the source of all this is, it is starting to happen. I am at ease and I believe we are on our way to being on our way.

Things I Haaa.... Don't Like Much

2009-05-13T12:07:00.000-07:00

I just feel a need to gripe today. Lucky you.

1.) Long cigarette lady- Yes, the one I mentioned earlier. I am still miffed about her. I've noticed small piles along the sidewalk in front of the house for a really long time, on both sides of the walk. Our neighborhood is super-old, so our sidewalks have yard on one side and a sliver of yard about four feet wide on the other (and the street on the other side of that). We have a rock yard and we do keep up with it constantly. We lived in military housing for the better part of 13 years and we DO know how to pick weeds, mow grass, trim shrubs and pick up trash and other (a-hem) "matter" which happens to find its way into the yard. Most of my neighborhood does not know how to do these things (because surely if one had the knowledge, one would apply it to the task at-hand). I have, indeed, also noticed a proliferation of ciggie butts in the yard. We (collectively, all four of us) do not smoke and we are outnumbered by about 85% of our neighborhood. I have no problem with smokers as long as smokers take care of their bizniz and keep it outta mine. AND, my dogs have never crapped anywhere in the neighborhood aside from their own back yard or Kelly's back yard. AND, if they did crap somewhere in the 'hood, I would pick it up. Why? IT IS THE LAW!!! I am fully confident that I know who the offenders are as the kids and I all witnessed them Friday when we were coming back to the house after the house shoppers (who never showed) were supposed to come. She saw us pull into the driveway, with her long cigarette wedged in between her bony talons and her scrawny Cocker Spaniel hunched over on it's leash, and never once flinched or apologized or looked back at the vile pile they left behind. I just don't like her now.

2.) The chick that sat next to me this morning at the band and orchestra concert at the elementary school- It is never in good taste to show up at your fifth grader's school in your work clothes if you are employed in the adult entertainment industry. There is always the possibility that I am wrong about your career, but I have sat in enough classrooms in my day to have learned the application of context clues. Your breastage, however lovely and siliconic and expensive it may be, ought not be hovering on the edges of the danger zone as you sit in the front row digging in your purse (on the floor) for your gum and your digital camera. Also important notations- costume jewelry on a body should never outweigh the body or be "blingy" enough to blind the orchestra teacher (that just isn't nice), lucite footwear (both with and without ankle straps) in excess of three inches should not be worn in public before the street lights come on, a g-string may be worn for any occasion providing that it is fully covered during occasions attended by a populous with an average age of eleven, the presence of one's body fragrance of choice cannot mask one's body odor, even on the occasion that one may retrieve the gallon-sized jug with convenient spray cap from one's purse on the floor in front of them in order that they may apply it in the presence of twelve other parents and the entire fifth and sixth grades.

3.) The parents of this morning's performers at the elementary school (aside from the twelve of us that showed)- Dude, even if you hate elementary school performances and kids and schools and administrators and music, your kid is performing. You prolly should be there. You don't have to enjoy your kids' activities, but I am sure they would love to have you there to witness them doing something they enjoy. I can't believe you didn't show up. I forgive you if you were absolutely not able to be there because you or a child were ill or your wanker boss wouldn't give you time off or if your car broke down on the other side of town. Otherwise, you suck. And, if you come and you don't like being there, fake like you did. It is good for your kid.Now I am tired.

The list is so long, but I need to stop before my fingers fall off.

Spiral

2009-05-06T23:44:00.000-07:00

I am thouroughly exhausted. Utterly, but I stayed up late tonight to watch a show on MTV I've been dying to see, "Steve-O, Demise to Rise." I first became familiar with him the same way most of us did, through "Jackass." I never quite "got" the show or the idea behind it. I just chalked my disdain for the program up to my being too old. Sure, I tried to watch, but most times I would sit with the clicker in my hand and my head cocked sideways with my eyes all squinty wondering what the Hell would catapult someone, anyone, to this level of stupidity. Ah, addiction. That's it, but I didn't know it at the time.

I began to appreciate Steve-O during this season of "Dancing with the Stars," and you can keep your opinion of DWTS to yourself. I like it and there is an abundance of estrogen in this house right now. Mommy usually wins the clicker wars. He was partnered with Lacey and from the first episode I knew I wanted to see more of him. On occasion, his recovery from addiction was brought up in the vignettes shown during the show. He is a very charming person and seems very lovable in a high school boy kind of way- very innocent. I know, he's not.

So, when I saw that there would be a show chronicling his addiction and the early phases of his recovery, I knew I had to watch. I've had a front-row seat to the addiction circus for going on thirty years now (not my parents). I was completely unaware of what was really going on with those involved when I was a kid. I had no idea there was anything wrong with them because I was either oblivious or they hid it well. Regardless, I started to have my awakening to the addictions around me around the time I turned eightteen. And then, I thought there was something I could do about it. Just like everyone has to learn at some point, there wasn't, isn't, ain't never gonna be.

Later in the evening last night, I got a text message from a friend that lives far away from me. It read, "**** passed away April **." After a couple more texts back and forth, my friend agreed to call me today and let me know what she could after she spoke with ****'s husband. No one wants those kinds of texts and I spent a long time last night thinking about things.

I came to know **** through the friend who texted me. I won't be getting specific about "how" I knew her because that would be disrespectful to her family and that is incredibly important to me at this point. But, those two ladies along with a couple of others and myself had plenty of time to get to know each other during a certain period of time not that long ago. She was another Army wife. She had two kids and a husband who did love her. She had also been a nurse at one point.

As I was getting to know her I saw her taking some very high-powered drugs. I saw her shaking when she had gone too long without this one or that one or some combination therein. Everything was prescribed, and therefore, in some ways justified, sort of. She always seemed so tortured when it didn't seem to me that she should have been in that state. No, I didn't understand. I don't think I ever will. I just knew that something just didn't seem quite right about what she was taking and the manner in which she was doing so. I kept my mouth shut.

I don't think I would have ever really called her my friend but accquaintance seems very removed from what she was. I don't know. I know I was not her favorite person, but for a time, I think I was part of her circle. I'm not too sure how she fit into mine. At one point, I might have even called her a nemesis. Around the last time I saw her, I would have likely just classified her as just someone I knew.

As I've aged and watched addiction in my life, I've developed my own little set of coping tools and have become really good at building the defenses I truly needed to protect myself. That gave me the ability to easily walk away when my addiction radar began to emit a certain tone. Still does. Quite frankly, I don't have time to deal with that brand of crazy. It is crazy and this world has handed me enough that I can't slow down to make addiction a stop on my journey. I just don't understand how someone can let that happen to themselves. Having been ill, I also can't grasp how someone can take that kind of gamble with their life. I WANT to be here.

She was making mistakes which could have ended very, very badly. I knew about some of those mistakes and I wasn't alone. I just wasn't aware of how bad it really, really was. It is scary to draw attention to that kind of situation. I am not sure exactly how to report it. I didn't know her husband. And, being perfectly honest, as any Army wife can tell you, telling on someone is a great way to make your own life more difficult (and that word, difficult, is an understatement). No one wants to be involved in someone else's bad business. And, I was afraid. I really didn't want to hurt her, even though I knew she was hurting herself and others. And I didn't want to hurt me.

Again, out of respect for her family, I will not be specific about details of her life and death. I will say that she spent the last year spiraling downward with occasional episodes of recovery. She had MANY chances to improve her situation (MANY), and she did try. I didn't know until today all of what was going on and I don't think there would have been anything I could have done to aid her or her family prior to her death. I do know my presence would not have been appreciated since I welcomed the distance from her when it occurred. Things had apparently been looking better for her when her demons came back raging. She wasn't strong enough to fight them this time and not just the battle, but the war was lost.

Now, a Warrior is also a widower and the single parent of two kids who will always wonder some of the things I do, along with why she did these things to their family. They have every right to both love her and hate her in the same breath. I can't imagine how they will heal but I hope that healing begins very soon and that it comes as naturally as it can.

Steve-O is well for now. Recovery doesn't come in a neat package. More often, it comes in a screwed up ball of crap that doesn't make sense until it is untangled. Even then, maybe not so much. Steve-O was the subject of an intervention during which several people gave him no choice and put him in a nut-house, from which he entered a rehab facility and later a sober-living home. He felt weak during the early months of his recovery and committed himself to a mental institution again a second time, because it is what he wanted. He didn't get well for someone else, but those someone elses prompted him to enter wellness.

I think Steve-O values what he has now. I think he sees that life is a heck of a lot more than huffing nitrous and dropping PCP and drinking by the gallon, all at the same time. Maybe the fact that he has recorded most of his life on video since he was a teen has helped him gain some perspective about what he has done to himself. I think he has found his value. And, thank God he is brave enough to share those videos with a demographic struggling through more chemical influences than any other before them.

I encourage you to watch the show with your kids. DVR it, ask someone else to tape it or do whatever it takes to ensure you and your kids have a chance to see this show together and that you talk about it. Talk about it openly and be honest with your kids. Teach them what you want them to learn so they can protect themselves. You wont always be able to be there to assist them in making their decisions, so teach them how to do it for themselves. They will hear you and hopefully they will listen.

And if there is a next time experience for me, I will do something or say something. I will be smart enough to do it. I do not blame myself or anyone else for what **** did to herself. I do not wonder, "What if." I do know that she was not ready to make change for herself and the outcome proves it. But, if there is a next time, I will.

How awful to die alone and impaired. How much more awful to be the children left behind.

A Calming

2009-05-04T15:48:00.000-07:00

We first met her the day she was born. Randy took us to the corner where she and her siblings were nursing while Marlene held our curious Amanda. Her mother, Misty, had known us for quite some time so she watched us cautiously as she allowed us to pick her up and greet her and welcome her into our family. When we gave her back, Misty carefully inspected her and began to clean her, and then Misty allowed us to pet her while we thanked her for being so generous to us. That was September 15, 1994.

We got to visit her whenever we wanted since Randy and Marlene lived just around the corner from our quarters at Fort Riley. She came to know us and her eyes were always lit up with excitement when she saw us. She was the oldest of the litter and bigger, even, than her brothers. She was the "little mother" of the litter.

She actually came to live with us the first week of November and from that moment she fit right into our home. She loved our Lahsa Apso Mimi and loved our baby, even though it took a little while for Amanda to warm up to her. Once they did team up, they were always together. Amanda even used to climb in her kennel and close the door, at which, Phoenix would bark her high-pitched "telling on you" bark she would come to be known for. Amanda would giggle uncontrolably at that.

She was a runner and would bolt out the door whenever she had the chance, especially in her younger years. Travis loved to take her out when he ran, but he never quite got the chance to do that as much as he wanted. She was his dog and she knew it, but she so loved me and Amanda.

She did great when we moved from Kansas to El Paso and then six weeks later to Glendale. While we were staying with my parents during the Haiti deployment, she scratched up the wood floors and managed to cause my father to fracture his foot. She escaped regularly and the neighbors came to know her and love her for her sweetness. They would call when she would walk up in their garage to hang out with them and then remind me of what a great dog she was.

Once we moved back to El Paso, she seemed to settle right down and that was just before her second birthday. She had mellowed and become a really great dog. She loved to walk with us and run and allowed our toddler kiddo to pull her around the house constantly, never complaining.

We lived on Biggs Field when Nolan was born and she instantly took a liking to the baby. She never growled at me when I came close to him, but everyone else was fair game. She would squeeze between Nolan and Travis when they would lay on a blanket and play and then put her "arm" over the baby and fall asleep, or she would rest her chin on his tummy while he kicked and cooed. When we would get ready to leave and we would have Nolan in his carseat, she would rest her chin on the edge of the seat and "babysit" him until it was time for her to go to her box so we could leave.

As he grew, she learned to love every baby and most toddlers who would visit our house. She loved when we moved to the house on Garcia Circle because she had a great back yard to roam that had no stickers and always had some kind of shade to lay in. She would try to eat our tomato plants and later our watermelon plants and happily jog away when we caught her, as if nothing had happened. She also refused to let me open the door late at night. She would stand between me and the door and growl with the hair on her back on-end if I ever reached for the knob. She also loved to escort the kids around the back yard, always watching them.

She lovingly accepted every dog I brought into the fold, and grieved for our Mimi when we had to put her to sleep at the age of thirteen. She adapted well to the new house and to Travis' coming and going for schools and deployments. During his second visit to Iraq she bacame deathly ill with an infection and had to have emergency surgery, from which she eventually recovered. She had to stay at the vet clinic for almost a week before she was allowed to come home and in that time, she won the hearts of everyone there, like always.

About a year later she began to have problems with her rear legs. We took her to the vet and were lucky enough to see Dr. McCabe at that visit. He knew everyting about her and suggested x-rays to see what was going on. He told us her spine was calcifying and that eventually she would lose feeling in her rear legs. He also told us what her body would eventually do as a result of the problem. He put her on medication which she was never able to adapt to, so for the sake of her digestive system and at the doctor's recommendation, we helped her lose five pounds and put her on fish oil. She did really well. Dr. McCabe told us then that her eyes still had a lot of life in them and she would let us know with her eyes when she was ready to go.

That was almost two years ago and I have been so grateful for that time. We have all had the chance to watch her age gracefully and loving her has taught the kids so much. When she had rough days, they would encourage her gently or wait for her patiently to get up so they could put her outside. They would lay on the floor with her when she needed extra affection or walk her to the corner and back so she could exercise her legs a bit. When she would fall, they learned how to help her up without hurting her. They loved her through those last two years. And up until last week, she still wanted to play and "tell on them" with her silly bark.

She'd had a rough weekend. She fell once badly Saturday and twice Sunday. At bedtime last night, it took Amanda and I half a slice of her favorite whole wheat bread and half an hour to coax her to her kennel. She didn't wake me up in the middle of the night to go potty like usual, and when the alarm went off at 6 this morning and I realized she hadn't barked for me to come get her at all, I knew something was wrong. She barely made it out of her box and it took a lot of guidance to help her outside. She fell again when she came in and I knew what I had to do.

I got her back in her bed, took Nolan to the doctor for his allergies, took him to school and asked Kori to help me get her to the vet. Phoenix always hated to be picked up, but she allowed me to do it today when I realized she would never be able to walk out to the truck. We got her settled and went to the vet.

The doctors at Northeast Veterinary were wonderful, like always, and allowed me to say my goodbyes and love her to the end. The doctor agreed the spark was gone from her eyes today. She never fought the catheter or her injections and she went quietly, with love.

I will truly miss our girl.

Booberiffic

2009-04-30T13:12:00.000-07:00

I knew this morning when I woke up there was just something in the air...

After my shower, I got dressed in the same manner to which I've become accustomed. I reached in the drawer and pulled out a black bra I haven't worn in a while. In fact, it must have been pretty cold the last time I wore it because that is the only thing which could justify the adjustment of the shoulder straps. Once I was locked and loaded in it, I realized my boobs could double as ear muffs. I readjusted the straps and my body temperature returned to normal, then I went and did my hair and it, shockingly, performed quite well today. About flipping time!

So, I puttered around the house and hung some laundry out. I cleaned toilets (bleah) and kind of organzied some things. I loaded the dishwasher and figured out what to make for dinner. You know, basic useless stuff. Brian had mentioned that there might be some viewings of the house today so I wanted to be ready.

After I finished puttering I was bored to tears so I decdied to head to WalMart for no real reason other than to putter around there. I went to the McDonald's inside and got a Diet Coke. I journeyed through the craft department to look at the scrapbooking markdowns (Martha Stewart stuff is being marked down!) and came across many interesting people.

I've mentioned before how annoying it is that women can't seem to find clothes to fit them. Since I turned 15, I have been every size from a 7 to a 26 and now linger somewhere in the middle. I can find clothes which fit me. Aside from fit, there is the lucky possibility that one's ensemble might actually flatter their body. I shoot for that. Sometimes it works and other times it doesn't. Whatever, at least I make the effort.

Today was Ta-Ta Thursday. And, who doesn't love a great rack? Seriously, I appreciate the work a woman goes through to look good. Many of us really have to put some serious effort into looking put together while others (cows) roll out of bed looking like a million bucks. We don't like the ones who do. I do understand that when we girls look good, we feel fabulous and everyone wants that. I think one of the things men notice about a woman who looks good is the confidence she feels in knowing she hit the mark with her appearance. Knockers help us seal the deal.

So, today at the store there was a plentitude of ladies (ah-hem) weearing baby-doll t-shirts three sizes too small so they get the dreaded muffin-top, or the muffin-top's evil cousin, the hanging foldover. You know, that thing that happens when the belly overspills the top of the jeans/shorts/skirt, and in doing so, the spillage seems to fold itself and hang like a stuffed apron of skin about the midriff. There's an image for ya, consider it a gift. You're welcome.

Only slightly less striking than the belly waterfalls abounding the discount superstore was the wealth of ooohverstretched sildscreened images and phrases emblazoned across the milkers of our day's favorite fashion victims. Seriously, do you buy clothes with the sole mission of ruining them? Buy the right size, ladies, society will thank you for it!

So, when I was leaving the store with Diet Coke and chocolate cake in-hand, there were two ladies with their litters walking near my truck. Both ladies were well dressed as were the fourteen children about them, but the disaster about it all was the pregnant lady. She was wearing black capri pants and black ballet flats. She carried a very nice black bag which was no doubt stuffed with lots of snacks and items to entertain the little cherubs. Her hair was done nicely and her make-up was impeccable. Where then, was the trainwreck? Ah, her hormone engorged funbags ensconced in what my friend and I affectionately call, a "booby shirt."

We all have them, shirts which empower us and make us feel like we can, via our vessels of womanhood, conquer the world. They may be snug or low-cut. They might have built-in accessories which draw the eye to the region. You never know what you're gonna get and my booby shirt may be your fatal mistake, or vise-versa.

This particular booby shirt was a print featuring red, black and white. It had a small metal ring which gathered the fabric between the twins and forced the neckline into a vortex of cleavage. Seriously, I feared walking too close to her for fear I would be sucked in that valley and never return. It was clear that 47% of each melon was visible, with the nipple being the vulgarity guide. And, of course, remember she was pregnant, likely about six or seven months. She was workin' what she got, but those boobs were really distracting. Yikes. Yuck.

Once I got in the truck and pulled out, I chose to exit the lot to the south and travel between the restaurants since it tended to get me out of there quicker. Then, it got worse.

I was stopped at the stop sign near the Golden Corral when a family happened across the lot in front of me. There was a retired military guy (you know them when you see them if you got skillz) in his undershirt and stretchy shorts (to maximize the benefits of a buffet visit), what appeared to be three young adult children, and a lady who appeared to be older than retired guy, but not by much. Her hair was done nicely. She had on decent shoes and her make-up looked ok. And then, I realized it. She was wearing a mu-muu. In public, she was wearing a mu-muu and this is not the big island. What is worse than the mu-muu was the lack of a bra. No, it was not an ill-fitting bra. It was not an improperly sized bra. It was a non-existent bra. And, lets remember, we ain't talkin' 'bout no spring chick. She must have used the gals as bumpers to keep her tummy from hitting the table. Ick. Put them away!

So, take this as a bit of friendly advice. If you don't package the presents well, no one will see you as a prize.

Lucky 13

2009-04-26T22:46:00.000-07:00

Wow.This morning was our first regular open house with Brian. So far, here's a quick rundown of Brian's performance...

1) Signed the contract on Monday the 13th of April at 2pm.

2) Brian showed the house to a family on Monday the 13th of April at 4pm. That family liked our house along with another. Ultimately they decided to build a home just across the NM border, about 15 minutes from my neighborhood.

3) On Friday the 17th of April, Brian held our house open for the other Realtors from his agency. There was a good response and the cookies I made for the Realtors were a hit.

4) On Thursday the 23rd of April, Brian invited Realtors from the greater El Paso area to see the house. There was a good response from those who came. He fed them and left the remainder of the cheesecake bites in my freezer. My children now love Brian.

5) On Sunday the 26th of April at 10 am, Brian had the first open house for the public. Four families came to see the house as well as a family whose buying agent was at Brian's Realtor's tour of the house on Thursday. The family liked the house. A. WHOLE. LOT.

I decided to be patient and wait for Brian to call. Brian calls his clients weekly to update the status of their properties and last week he called Monday morning. I just expected to hear from him tomorrow. No problem.

I was watching "The Unit" and at 9:15 Brian texted me that the family who came today with their Realtor had written up a contract. He didn't have details at the time and only knew there was a contract. Today is the thirteenth day of the contract we signed with him.

I am almost speechless. I am doubtful that I will sleep tonight. I am on the verge of tears because I am pretty sure this nightmare is wrapping up.

I called Travis and woke him up (time difference). I prolly shoulda waited to call him until tomorrow, but I couldn't. He reacted in his typical manner- quiet reserve with a slight excitement.

This is very comforting.

So They Say

2009-04-22T10:02:00.000-07:00

She's going to be sixteen soon. Not right away, but much sooner than I would like. I remember vividly, as do all mothers, the day she was born. I remember knowing I was pregnant before I was even late. Actually, I thought I was either pregnant or that I had mono again. I remember taking my pregnancy test and Travis' quiet and very reserved reaction. He was happy, but unsure of what laid ahead of us.

She's pretty cool, my kid. I don't tell her enough, and I know that. She is so smart and in love with music and reading. She is in a stage of constant evolution. She shocked the crap out of us last year when she said she wanted to try out for cheer. Then she did it again when she said she wanted to wrestle. She's a good friend to the kids she knows- many times I think she is better than some of them deserve. She's a good student partly because we gently push her to achieve and partly because she wants to go somewhere in this world. She is very much her own person.

When she was very young, everyone told us how much she looked like Travis. I still think she does. Now that she is getting older, people are starting to tell us how much she looks like me. I don't see it, but I'll take it. I think she is gorgeous and if I EVER looked like her, I was doin' pretty good. However, Amanda hates hearing about how much she looks like me. She doesn't mind hearing how much she looks like her father. I'm going to refrain from saying mean things about that. I think, more than anything, she just wants to look like her. That's OK too.

Since she was a tiny baby she's had this independent streak. Before we had her, I always dreamed of having a baby who would lay its little head on my shoulder when strangers would approach, or when it was tired or just because it wanted to. Amanda was not that baby. She came into this world with her big blue eyes wide open and that has never changed. She doesn't miss much because there is so much to take in and she is usually right on top of it, or better yet, in the middle of it.

That independence has made a number of people make predictions about her. "You'll have problems with her when she gets older." "That one, you'll have to worry about her." "Why IS she like THAT?" And those are just a smidge of what I've heard. Most of it wasn't said maliciously, but it has always pissed me off. Why can't she just be who she is? Sure, she's going to exhibit some of my personality traits and some of Travis', and maybe some of other family members, but she is unique unto herself. And, why is that not OK?

I'm never going to be willing to listen to what I hear about the kind of person she is. From the beginning, even though she has been our daughter, she has been her own person. Why do some seem so insistent to peg her with "who" she is more like. She's like her. And, I love that the predictions we've heard are largely not coming true.

I'm no fool, I know she is only 15 and there is plenty of time for her to completely change I also know that the move, when and if it ever happens, will have tremendous impact on her in a myriad of ways. That said, I know she's up for the challenge. She is ready to go. She is ready to embrace a new home, different from any she remembers. And she will deal with the loss of the world she's created for herself here, and that might really take some time, but she'll get through it.The reason she'll get through it is the very thing people warned us about. She's got to have the chance to feel the loss and work through it and her immersion in her new world has to happen on her terms too. I don't know if she'll jump right in and pick up like she never really left El Paso behind or if she'll be going slow so she can assess the situation and make decisions before committing to anything. I'm just going to have to remember not to push her because this is HER experience.

Yes, she is independent. Yes, she is a redhead and what they say about redheads is true. She might look a bit like me or a lot like her Daddy. But, she is amazing just because she is herself. She is Amanda.

Junk

2009-04-20T12:51:00.000-07:00

I don't really have anything particularly important to say, but for some reason feel as if I need to say something. So, whatever, I'll just roll with the junk stuck in my head...

1. Who cares about the First Family's dog? Really, is it a matter of national security that their "rescued" dog came from a breeder to whom the dog had been returned after its first family didn't gel with it? I have had rescued dogs, neither of whom came from a shelter. I consider both of them as having been resuced because at the time I obtained them, they were in bad circumstances. They both lived with families with children, one family just didn't like one of the dogs and the other family thought the dog was the most stupid thing they ever saw and threatened to kill her if they didn't get her a home that day. How is that good for a dog? If a family is a bad fit for a dog, and the dog winds up in a less than desirable environment and another family takes that dog, it is a rescue. The Obamas had to choose carefully because of health concerns for one of their daughters. When was the last time you saw a Portuguese Water Dog at the pound?

2. My house had been on the market with my previous Realtor for 27 weeks. My house has been on the market with the new Realtor for a week. In that week, my house has been shown to a family and just over a half-dozen Realtors. It has a virtual tour on the Internet. Last week, we came very close to having an offer put on the house. So, in one twenty-seventh the amount of time, the new Realtor has had half as many people see the house as the last one had in 27 weeks and has almost gotten an offer. I have learned so, so much and I will blog about that later.

3. I am tired. I am tired like I haven't been in five years. That's tired.

4. Although there are lots of things and people in El Paso that I will miss when we do get to move (again, another blog alltogether), I am ready to go. I have come to seriously dislike El Paso and am fighting the urge to say that I hate it here. But, I really think I do.

5. Someone in a circle of mine, whom I am not close to has done something stupid. I do not know if this person did so for attention or did so because they are ill or some combination of the two or what. What I do know is that someone they love is trying to guilt them into doing what they "should" do. What is ironic is that that same loved one did things very similar to the circle person years ago. It was forever ago, but now the loved one is throwing stones. That is but one of the many reasons that loved one of the circle person and I will never be close.

6. There was a time in my life I craved relationships with two people. I would have given almost anything to be close to them. And, when I say anything, I mean anything. Now, I am at the point where I have gained some clarity and I am grateful that those relationships never materialized into anything. My life is less complicated and I am safer for that nothingness. It took me many years for me to have the vision to see that my life is better this way.

7. I've been making menu plans in my head for when we move. Seriously, I've been spinning through my mental recipe rolodex for the last two weeks. I think I could cook for six months and never make the same thing twice once we get there. Travis has no idea how awesome his culinary experience is going to be.

8. I am super aggrivated with the new policy requiring my to lift my sunglasses when entering the gates on Fort Bliss. I do understand the importance of the guards being able to identify persons entering the gates based upon the identification they provide, but lets aim for some consistency, here. According to the guard I spoke with when I finally asked what the purpose was in my doing so, I was told, "The new Colonel doesn't believe we can identify people well enough when they are wearing dark sunglasses." Great. Let me add, my sunglasses are not dark, nor are they an accessory. They are prescription and I need them since I can't legally drive by Braille. It would also be helpful if the guards charged with ensuring the security of one of the world's premiere military installations would actually look at the picture on my ID and my face to see if there is some resemblance there. I would appreciate it if all the guards would follow the same protocol. Some ask them to be lifted, others that they be removed, others don't ask for their removal at all. Consistency, people, that's all I ask.

9. I am disgusted with myself because my goal was to have all my pre-move decrappification done by this point. I have dented it, but am not anywhere near done. I have way too much crap in this house and need to start with a week-long shredding party. I also need to get off my butt and start taking things to the thrift shop again. It gets the stuff out of the house and out of my hair and I make a couple bucks. Win-win. I have two bags of stuff sitting in the family room waiting to go. They've been waiting for two weeks. What's the delay?

10. This is TAKS testing week in Texas. Actually, I think there may have been some tests administered earlier than this week. This is the first week which affects my kids. I hate TAKS testing because the kids get freaked out because the teachers get freaked out because the administrators put the pressure they are handed from the districts on them and all-in-all, the people who lose out are the kids. Testing is necessary and I understand that. But, the benchmarks being tested need to be the benchmarks being taught and at least in Texas, they do not match up. Somehow, someone with an educatonal doctorate somewhere needs to pay attention to that and do something about it.

11. Don't be calling my house warning me that this is TAKS season and that my children need to get enough sleep and eat properly so that they will perform well. Let me say this... You don't need to call my home and tell me that. Maybe you should go to WalMart around 11:30 or midnight and find the kids still wearing their uniforms from your school and talk to their parents while they are purchasing their new plastic spinner rim inserts they so desperately need.

12. I really missed scrapbooking. I went to the Waiting Families scrapping this weekend and although I was going out of my mind because of the crazy going on there, I enjoyed working on my books. I came home from the three hour class and finished one page, then did three more. I need to do this more. I felt relaxed and like I accomplished something.

13. I want more brown fat in my body. Sounds like a good deal.

14. I am getting out my Turbo-Cooker to make dinner for the night. I haven't used my TC for about four years and can't find my recipe cards. Wish me luck.

15. I don't want to clean my kitchen.I guess that's enough for now. Barbara Walters is now talking about men with premature ejaculation on the View right now and I think I need to go puke.

Bleah.

You KNOW Me

2009-04-17T12:17:00.000-07:00

Today was the Realtor's agency tour of the house. I don't know how that went, but I do know that as I was driving down the main drag outside our 'hood on the way to the house I saw my Realtor driving in the same direction. Yes, I am certain it was him. He's the only guy around with a red Ford truck and a yellow and green magnet on the side that reads, "Elect Brian Burds- City Council, District 4." He passed me, got in the turn lane at the light and went into our area. I drove down to another street and circled back to the house. Sure enough, an hour after he was to have been done at my house, he was bringing someone back to it with him. I watched them go in from down the street and then went and got a Diet Coke from Whataburger. I don't know what happened, but hey, he's bringing 'em in and that's all I ask. Sooner or later someone is going to be the right person and we can't find them if they aren't walking through my door. Pom-pons, ladies and gentlemen. Wave them high and proud for Brian! Oh, and vote for him- early voting begins April 26.

So, anyway, back to the day's story... I left Phoenix, the 15 year old Husky at home cuz she wont bug nobody that wont bug her. I took the little dogs with me, who will bark when peeps are here. Peeps were on the way and I didn't want them bugging the peeps. As I was pulling out of the neighborhood, I was on the phone with my mother when the other line beeped in. I didn't get switched over in time, but it was Nolan's school. Phone calls from school during the day are rarely wonderful news. He left me a voicemail and as I was listening, I got mad. Crazy-mad. Why? Read on...

Nolan didn't sound great, he sounded very tired and boogery. He said, "Mom, this is Nolan (duh, I know his voice, even if it is boogery). I am in the nurse's office because I think I am getting a cold. She took my tembater and it was 98.7, which isn't a fever. I have a lot of boogers and I- (I hear static on the line, and then the voice changes)" "Ma'am, please call the nurse's office. The number is 434- blah-blah-blah-blah." She didn't know that I know THAT particular number by heart. She got it wrong. That wasn't the problem. She took the phone out of my kids' hand and shut him up.

Here's the deal; if my kid's condition is such that it warrants a call home, fine. I don't mind. He's my kid and when he needs me, I am there. When he is sick, I care for him. If he is boogery, he gets Kleenex and Sudafed and Claratin and whatever else he might need. Regardless of whether or not he picked up his dirty socks, he's going to get what he needs. NO. MATTER. WHAT. But, if his condition does indeed warrant a call home, and you have him make the initial contact (again, fine), then you let the kid say what he is saying. That's all. Just let him talk. If you aren't going to make the call yourself and initiate dialogue adult to adult, then don't take the friggin' phone out of my kid's hand and sigh into the handset and ask me to call you. He was in the middle of a sentence. That is rude by any standard. I work too hard on the kid to have you help him un-learn his manners. As big a pain in the nalgas as he can be, and he can be un pain in the nalgas muy gigante (say it HEE-gahn-tay), he has manners and they are awesome manners. Teachers who have not loved my son have even pointed out that he is most respectful of adults. I want him to stay that way and you aren't helping. I called right back as soon as I heard the message and spoke with the nurse who told me he thought he had a cold. Then she told me that he asked to go home. Now, I knew that was a crock. My kids know if they come home from school sick, they're going to bed. There will be no GameBoys, no Wii, no TV, no books, no Legos, no Magnetix, and no nothin' else except their pillow and blankie on their bed. I don't screw around. I asked to speak with him because I knew his allergy meds (which I was certain was the problem) were at the house, where Brian was with the Realtors and where I couldn't be. I told Nolan he would have to wait until I could get back to the house and he was fine with it. When I asked him if he asked to go home, he denied having asked. He even told me he knew he would have to go to bed and all he wanted was something to help him feel better. What a cow.

I went to the school and had him called to the office so I could give him his allergy medicine. He had reddish eyes and a boogery voice. He took his pill and gave me a hug and when I asked him if the nurse had taken the phone from his hand, he said she did. When I asked him if she was rude to him, he said she wouldn't let him get within five feet of her desk. I had him clarify what that meant and he said that he came in and walked up to her desk to ask for her help and she held her hand up and gestured for him to step back and then she told him he had to stay five feet back from the desk. What the heck? This is an elementary school. ELEMENTARY! Maybe he doesn't want everyone within earshot to hear him request the hurse's help. What if the problem were of a personal nature? Certainly she's heard of the Privacy Act? What a royal cow. Five feet. What is that for? Is she trying to avoid coming in contact with a kid who might have something infectious? Ding, ding, hear the bell, moron, you're a nurse. If she doesnt' want her desk bombarded by kids, then manage the area well. It isn't that hard. It is a school. Most of the attendees are well accustomed to things like line making and the standing therein and the mindboggling practice of shushing when shushed. Cow. COW. COOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWW. Moo.

As I was leaving, I made a request to the receptionist that an administrator call me. I am NOT having some friggin' nurse treat my kid that way. Ever. I never thought I would say it, but I miss Nurse Trudy, who is out of school because she was mauled by dogs. Stupid dogs. Stupid substitute nurse cow.

She is but the next in a long line of people who had to learn the hard way NOT to treat my kids badly.

Genuinely Tiny Knickers

2009-04-16T21:32:00.000-07:00

Quick, name that movie!

It was on tonight and Travis and I were texting while Amanda and I were watching it after wrestling and dinner (which was pretty flipping good- schnitzel with an onion pan gravy, noodles [because ALBERTSON'S, of all expensive places, had no boxed spaetzle), green beans and iced tea]). We didn't get to see the worst of Bridget's awkward moments, but the ending has always made me cry. Stupid, I know, but I am a girl and it is a chick flick and that's just that. In the end, her true friends come for her, knowing she's been down and as she's leaving for her surprise trip (a gift from her friends), Mark shows up to tell her he forgot something before he left for New York, so he came back to do it. What? He came back to stick his fricking tongue down Bridget's fricking throat and prove that nice boys do fricking kiss like that.

Of course, me being me, the tears were flowing quite well anyway, but I couldn't make them stop.

Again, we were texting and I had just mentioned that I was having problems sleeping again. *Back-story: I've dealt with sleeping alone pretty regularly for the last 18 years and have had pretty consistent intermittent (I know) trouble getting to sleep and/or staying asleep. I've never taken anything for it, I've just dealt*

Then, it came up that over Christmas, which was the last time we saw each other, I didn't have any problems at all sleeping. That was all the shove I needed to go over the edge. It wasn't a bad over the edge, just a little one, but the impact still leaves a mark.

S-I did pretty well over Christmas with sleeping

T-Hopefully not too much longer

S-I know. Been so long I feel like I might've forgotten how to take care of you

T-Na

S-Just sometimes feels like it (tears flowing freely)

Most days I find myself daydreaming of what my life is going to be like when we do get to move. Seriously, I've been married to the same guy for seventeen years in a row and I still daydream about our life. I hate to call it a perk, but I'm trying to stay positive these days.

Last year, when he found out he was leaving, we were gearing up for triathlon season to hit full-swing. Travis doesn't train quite as much as my nephew or other triathletes do, but he does need to focus on diet- high protien, balanced quality carbs, lots of fruits and veggies to up the O2 in the blood- you get the idea. Then, the orders came and twelve days later he was gone. I am so grateful my mother could come stay with the kids for the nine days I was with him. We drove there and I got him set up in his crap-hole trailer while he inprocessed and in the afternoons, we would go exploring, like we did when we first moved to Kansas and didn't know anything about the place. It was a near-perfect introduction to the place I so desperately want to call home.

In June, the kids and I went there for the beginning of summer vacation and Travis came back with us so we got him for seventeen days. That was fabulous! And again, I fell hard for Columbia. I really do like it there.

He came home again for ten days in September and for thirteen days in December. He left on January 2 to head back. So, since he left, this last four and a half months have been the longest stretch we've gone without seeing each other. Let me just say, it sucks. But, we've gone more than double that without seeing each other in the past. It isn't something I am proud of, just something I know we are capable of doing.

In the last three months, in particular, I've had to really do some work to get myself to sleep. Regular workouts and yoga have been a great help and one would assume with as crazy my schedule is with the kids and the dogs and the house and everything else that I wouldn't have a problem sleeping, but for some reason the more we go the less I seem to sleep. I guess the brain just doesn't slow down well.

I've felt before that we were close on selling, but I've never felt as non-stressed about it. Maybe that is just that I trust we are with the correct Realtor now, Brian. We've already had one viewing and there have been phone calls on the house, tomorrow is the agency's showing to the other agents from their office, next Friday is the Realtors' open house and next Sunday is the general open house. Brian compiled the panoramic virtual tour of the house and that is being loaded to the Centry 21 site as we speak. I am getting emails and phone calls and I hardly know what to do with it all! Never, did we ever, have this much activity during the last contract, practically during the entire six and 3/4 months. Finally, someone gives a crap about my house selling. Everybody shake your pom-pons for Brian- woot, woot!

Tonight, I am going to get off the computer prior to 10:45. I am going to put some peppermint lotion on the feeties with some fuzzy socks, gonna take my last iron pill for the day, gonna turn the TV waaaaaaaaaay down so I have to struggle to hear it (because I can't fall asleep without the TV *AT ALL* when Travis is gone), and snuggle into our bed. Hopefully that will equate with falling asleep and remaining that way for longer than three and a half hours and I will awaken tomorrow feeling refreshed.

Maybe then genuinely tiny knickers wont make me cry.

My Snoopy

2009-04-01T23:10:00.000-07:00

That's one of my Nolan's nicknames. Snoopy. That came about from his newly-found Billy Badass attitude. I started calling him Snoop-No (like Snoop-Dog) and that evolved into Snoopy. Somehow it fits him.

He just turned twelve. He's in the brain-dead phase boys go through. I've heard of it from other moms. I've been able to identify the phase for a while, so I guess it is pretty concrete.Even so, brain-dead or not, he's stlll got so much laying right in front of him.

It is so hard for me to know all that he's been through in twelve years and still fathom that he isn't all that big of a whack job. He's been without his father for more than five years of his life because of our being an Army family. He has had to deal with my illness, which he was too young to grasp at the time, but has felt the ripples of on a regular basis since, to include September's week of ugly testing on me when Travis was gone (and that was ROUGH on him). When he was little he had incredible oozing ears and had to be on daily antibiotics for a year and a half to prevent the ooze and that STILL didn't work. He's had his struggles and he is getting OK. Now.

In November, our folkstyle wrestling season began. I say "our" because I sit through the stupid (not stupid) practices too. Nolan was used to being the athlete of the family, while Amanda was our musician. Well, this was the year the tables turned. She made the cheer squad and then became a wrestler. She dared to tread into his territory. I knew from the start he didn't like it, but he dealt with it. It was hard for him to go from being the team clown to being the team sweetheart's big little brother.

Teachers and coaches have often had a hard time working with Nolan. He isn't the easiest kid with whom to work. It took me a while to figure that out, but basically, he doesn't know what he can do. He doesn't see his own abilities and when coaches see his size and talent, they assume he will perform as they expect. Kids who don't have that confidence in themselves and don't believe they are the winners they really are, will be hard to work with. Thusly, we have Nolan.

Mix with that being the big white kid in a town of small brown people (who we don't mind, even though a lot of them don't like us), and we've got a complex growing.

This really was his year to prove to himself that which he is able to accomplish. I've talked about it before, but tonight was one of those nights that really gets me going.After Nolan broke his foot at nationals a month ago, we took time off for him to heal and for spring break and anther week for attitude adjustment and rest (for me). We went to one practice before for freestyle/Greco during our month of rest, but tonight was really our big return. Nolan's been kind of wishy washy about wrestling or not. He really pushed to do freestyle, even though Coach usually doesn't allow kids under 13 to wrestle freestyle because of the danger in the throws they use. He made an exception for Nolan because he knows Nolan can handle it. He KNOWS that.

Tonight, Nolan was pretty intimidated about going to practice, but I finally figured that if we didn't go tonight, we wouldn't wind up going back. So, go we did. We got there and both kids got their shoes on and headgears out and were getting ready to hit the mats. Nolan talked for a few minutes to Coach and did let on a bit about his fears and reservations. He was genuinely scared about this. He didn't fully want to practice, but he got out there anyway.

He went through the warm-ups and drills and got a kick out of the fact that he is pretty good at the rolls they had to do and his sister can't do them. When man-on-man drills started things got a little hairy. Nolan is the baby of the team now. We had a three year-old on the team for folkstyle all the way up to the fifteen year-olds. Now, Nolan is the youngest, and the next-youngest is Amanda, who had been the oldest during the folk season. Everyone else is older and has more experience. Everyone else has speed and skills. And then, there's my Snoopy.

Nolan, being a big boy, has a hard time sometimes with agility and coordination, so he tends to joke his way through stuff he has difficulties doing. When he cranked that up tonight, the older boys started to gig him on it. They started going at him pretty hard. I didn't mind, I get that he needs people to help drive him on and help him focus. He also needs to be around guys.

He wound up leaving the mats for a bathroom break (which is frowned upon) in the middle of the action. When he came back, he looked me right in the eyes with his hopeless look and on the verge of tears, he told me how hard freestyle was. This practice was so much more intense than folkstyle practice. The kids are going at it really hard and they all take it so seriously. I told him I knew but that the team was waiting on him and he got his mat shoes back on and went back to it.

There's a move I call the Death Spin, which I am sure has a proper name. I don't know much about wrestling other than the wrestlers wear markers which the refs use in scoring, there is a table of people who track scoring, that when the ref holds up two fingers and shifts his hand a certain way he means that that person scored two points, and that when the ref hits the mat with an open hand a pin has occurred. That's it. So, the Death Spin- eek. Basically, the Death Spin is a choke hold thing where when the dominant person gets the submissive in that hold, they crank over to one direction and then force their momentum in the other direction to twist the other person into the Death Spin in order to score and gain more dominance (I think). Nolan was apprehensive and didn't want to do it and I could hear Zack dogging him out for not pushing hard enough. He stuck with it and I think he surprised himself when he finally got it.

Next were a series of takedowns. They were kind of rough, but he managed to get them all. Finally, it happened. I heard him wail. I was only half paying attention because I was listening to songs which matched my crappy mood on my iPod while playing Tetris on my phone. During a takedown, he hit his face on the mat and split his lip open. It isn't actually the pink part of his lip. It is the area just above the actual lips and it was ugly. I knew it might be a problem when I saw him grab his shirt and put it on his lip. Yup, blood. The coach and the big kids got the blood cleany stuff and wiped up the mats where he bled and then Coach got it all under control. Once he was back on the mats Coach reassured me that we did not need to visit "our" room at the E.R. and he confirmed with me that Nolan was indeed scared.

Not long after that, Zack came over and asked me if Nolan was OK. He also asked if I thought he was going too hard on Nolan. I told him that I thought it was OK but that Nolan was intimidated because they were all so much older. Then he asked me how old he was. When I told him he almost dropped his teeth. He thought Nolan and Amanda were the same age. He knew they were siblings but thought they were either twins or less than a year apart, which would make Nolan around 14 in his mind. Then he said it. He told me, "If Nolan is only twelve, then in a year or two, he's going to be a beast. He's gonna be a big, bad, total beast. I'm glad you told me." Our buddy Terry, the Tomster's younger brother, who is fourteen and a beast, said that he thought Nolan would be a beast by the time he was in high school too. I think Nolan didn't take that very seriously.

As we were leaving tonight, two of the other older boys found out Nolan is only twelve. Again, they used the B word in reference to Nolan. They told me they wished they had begun wrestling as young as Nolan and that now it made sense why he handles things on the mat the way he does. They told me how awesome he is for his age, and Nolan heard it.

Instantly he lifted his shoulders a bit. When they boys found out we are trying to get to South Carolina, they told him how big wrestling is there and how awesome he was going to be if he could stick with it. Then his chin lifted a little.

I try really hard to help Nolan in his journey to becoming a man. I'm a girl. Sure, there are thousands of women who raise strong, good men. Travis' mother did, and thank God she did. When Travis is here I feel like Nolan has someone to identify with and model himself after. When he isn't the responsibility is mine. I try not to baby him. I try to hold him responsible for his own actions. I try to teach him about what it means to be a man. I don't know if I always meet the standard in that department, but I will always try.

Tonight, I saw our son take a step in the right direction. He was pretty scared of what might happen on the mat with the older guys. Then, he busted his face. And, scary as that was, he got back on the mat and practiced again. Then, he had the chance to hear from those same older guys that he has real potential for greatness, or beastness, as they put it. He stood up to a real fear, got busted down, got back up and faced it again with a bloody lip. That's the kind of man I want him to be; the kind who stands up to his fears even when they kick his ass and takes them on after they take a piece of him.

It took two hours of sweat, some blood, a pair of rubber gloves, some bleach in a squirt bottle and three sixteen year-olds, but my Snoopy took one more step toward being the kind of man I hope he becomes. He grew in his self-confidence, had to face his fears and I think he learned a little about how hard work will get you further down the road to where you want to be.

Ryan and Moore

2009-03-25T21:01:00.000-07:00

Current mood: thoughtful

OK, in our house we watch "The Real World," and no one has to remind me that there is no limit to the absence of much real reality going on in that house. Before you question my allowing my teenager and pre-teen to watch, "such a program," it is important to realize I use this show and others as teaching tools. I do not want to send my children out into the world without fully understanding the world they are going into. This is not necessarily a kind world. Sure, sheltered people can do just as well when they head off into adulthood as those who were completely unsheltered. I choose to see things from a different viewpoint. I teach my kids about what really is going on and allow them to ask questions and discuss it all with me (and Travis when he is available) and sometimes television helps me introduce topics to them. I think the way we do things is an introduction to the world while still sheltering them, since they have an open forum to talk about what they learn without having to be a part of it all. My kids are educated and they have formed opinions and most of their reactions have been in keeping with those of Travis and I, which makes things easier on us. I am sure at some point that may change and we'll deal with it if and when it all comes around.

So, over the last two weeks, "The Real World," (which is incredibly scripted and edited, just so you know) one of the main topics has been the activation of one of the housemates requiring his return to active duty. His name is Ryan Conklin and he was in the Army, and did deploy to Iraq as an Infantryman. He had discussed with his roommates the possibility that he could be reactivated as one of the terms of his separation from the Army was that he would be a part of the Individual Ready Reserve. Some of those in the IRR get recalled, some don't, but that potential for activation is there for all of them.

Last week on the show, Ryan's family informed him that he was being activated. They read the orders to him and it came out that he would be reporting in February to Fort Jackson. The kids instantly flipped. Remember, if you will, that we are eventually heading to Fort Jackson. It isn't all that big as far as Army posts go, so in teen language, Ryan will be at our house for cookouts or something, I am sure. I think they wonder if their father knows Ryan. The answer is no. Travis works at the Ordnance school, Ryan is Infantry- they are quite different.

Ryan's "Real World" housemates came up with such frivolity as, "Say you're gay and I'll be your boyfriend (I will refrain from jokes)." and "Break your leg so you wont have to go." There was more to it than that, but it is so incredible to me to see how young adults deal with the reality Ryan is facing. They have been so open and accepting of all the alternative lifestyles in the house (a trans-woman [I believe that is the title they give her], a gay man, and a woman who was in her first heterosexual relationship), yet most of the housemates have made fun of Chet for his religion (Mormon) and have very little understanding of the duty Ryan and others like him have served. Maybe those of faith and those who hold more "traditional" roles in our society are becoming the "alternative" now. Either way, the boy is going to do what he is being called to do because he is a young man of substance.

Eventually, he was able to come to terms with his return to the Army and impending deployment. In doing so, he was also able to help his roomies accept it. At the end of the episode this week, the roomies gave him a journal (he journals and writes his own songs incessantly) in which they had written their thoughts and feelings about him leaving and asked him to fill the journal while he was gone with his own words and expressions.

It seems that there are a lot of younger people who just can't fathom giving up their lives for service in our armed forces. Yes, there is also an incredible amount of those who do, for a myriad of reasons. They join for the sign on bonuses, the education, the job security and stability, to see the world, to escape from home, for the honor of service, to blow things up and others don't really know why they join at all. But, thank God they do.

Last week, the 978th Military Police lost another Soldier. CPL Gary Moore died from injuries sustained from a roadside bomb. He was 25 years old. From what the media said, he was the kind of Soldier who would volunteer for duty to allow those with families more time with their spouses and kids. He was single. CPL Moore is the second fatality from the 978th's 2008 deployment to Iraq. Prior to last June's deployment, the 978th had never lost a Soldier in Iraq. CPL Moore is being laid to rest this week in his hometown in Oklahoma.Travis texted me when he found out.

My first question was whether or not he knew the Corporal. He said he doesn't think he knew him. Still, the loss is felt by all of us. Even our kids took a minute to think about the things all military families think about when they learn of a Soldier's death.

Travis trains baby Soldiers every day. He has said before he serves so our kids wont have to. Amanda has no interest in the military for herself and Nolan has expressed, on occasion, that he might be interested. I am pretty confident Travis will try to steer him away from the military.

Amazing young people are all around my family. For that, I am grateful. And, for those who are not surrounded by that greatness, I hope you have the chance to shake hands some day with someone who has accepted the call to service, or to simply pause in the presence of a servicemember. If you support the wars or if you do not does not matter. I hope you have the opportunity to stop and think of these people who are just starting to live who are willing to risk it all for some purpose they believe in or chose to be a part of.

Long Haul

2009-03-17T01:03:00.000-07:00

Pretty much the story of my life over the last twelve months. He's been gone twelve months. A full year. I left him in South Carolina a year ago last Friday. I couldn't even get through security because I couldn't see through the stupid fog on my glasses from my crying and my nerves had me shaking like crazy. That was easily the hardest flight I ever took.

Today I made a snap decision. I am a planner-type person. I make lists and I am organized and there is nothing out of place, especially when I am taking on what I am tomorrow. It isn't that big a deal and if you want to know what is up, message me and I'll tell you. I keep most of my posts public and I don't feel like changing anything. You'll all know soon enough and IT REALLY ISN'T ANYTHING MAJOR! I've already eluded (is that how it is spelled? It's five after one in the morning and I can't sleep, forgive the poor grammar.) to what I am doing. Search out the context clues, peeps. But now, I can't sleep. I've got nerves and Travis on the brain.

I suppose the Dierks Bentley and Jason Aldean ballads on the iTunes aren't much helping. And that takes me to the next random paragraph.

I've loved Dierks Bentley since his first single dropped in 2003- "What Was I Thinkin'?"(I was still in radio then so I get to use the "lingo") His new album does NOT disappoint and I may have another alltime favorite song to add to my playlist. Actually, several playlists because I am starting to discover the marvelousness (don't care, shut up) of playlists. It is almost like when I was in high school and would sit for hours on my bedroom floor with KZZP's dedication hour on and my fingers going numb from my holding them to the record and pause buttons on my tape deck so I could make the best mix EVER, only now it is my stupid eyes making me lame. Oh, and now there's no friggin dj talking all over the song's intro to screw up my mix. Stupid djs. Anyway, back to everyone's favorite blond from Tempe- my Dierks. His new album features a song called "I Wanna Make You Close Your Eyes." It makes me miss Travis- like I needed help. The song is an amazing ballad (normally ballads aren't my thing) and it kinda makes me, well, umm, you know. It sparks a fire in me for my sweetheart. No, not the DOMENOWORIWILLRUPTURESOMETHING kind of fire. I am talking about the fire only real intimacy brings. I miss his breath on my neck and the way he says my name. And still- more reasons to not get in my bed.

Travis and I always seemed to be in a truck (or his '69 Chevelle) going somewhere when we got together. I loved to sit next to him in the truck with my feet on either side of the gear shift so he could rest his hand on my knee. His old brown truck didn't have any air conditioning so the windows were always down and it never seemed to matter. Things were simple. Nothing had to be managed. It was him and me and the wind and a Motel 6 once a month because that was better than trying to find an empty parking lot every weekend, and who had the money for more than that? Life now is good when we are together, but I wouldn't mind an old brown truck with no a/c every once in a while too.

I just can't shut my mind off tonight and all of it, in one way or another, takes me back to Travis. And there's something I just can't talk about right now and that reminds me of him too. I can't give hints but no one needs to worry about us or our family, we are fine. But tonight, I am grateful again, even with him 1600 miles away.

I have to be up in four hours to take Amanda and Tommy to the canyon so they can run. Yeah, McKelligon Canyon, where Travis used to run. See what I mean?

Guess I'll find something boring on the TV to try to numb my mind into a trance and maybe I'll actually fall asleep.

I hate El Paso.

Winding Down?

2009-03-10T18:17:00.000-07:00

Mmmkay. It has been a while since I have blogged. Although I am not Catholic, I feel as if I must begin with some kind of accountability or confession for my blogging absence. The best excuse I could come up with is LIFE. You know, the kind you lead when your childrens' activities begin to overwhelm your ideal and take control? Yeah, LIFE. Been living it.

So, in my pursuit of LIVING, I have not spent one full week's worth of evenings in my own home since June. That's right, June. No, not June from some foreign calendar from a country far, far away. I'm talking June, 2008. So, basically, I've been completely consumed with their stuff. There are moms who would question that move on my part, and they have every right to do so. I'm even OK with it if they think I'm a little crazy for it. Don't care. Pay my bills and your opinion will matter. I am an Army wife. I am used to doing most everything on my own. I can manage bills, carpools, medical appointments, Army stuff, and most semi-major catastrophies on my own, and have done so, quite often. So there. Again, if I ask for your help, I will consider your opinion.

My one issue with all the going is that I've had precious little downtime. With the kids and their stuff and the house on the market, I've got a Swiffer in one hand and my keys in the other at practically all times. Sometimes I think the insanity of it all keeps me going. Something I noticed after the kids pointed it out about a month ago is that I spent most Sundays with one foot in the bed or feeling like total crap. After last week, I figured the puzzle out.

March 1st was a Sunday. That was the last day of the Greater Southwest Nationals in Rio Rancho, just outside Albuquerque. Mom came to El Paso to stay with Amanda because she had a mandatory cheer competition and she usually comes to town for each of the kids' birthdays, and Nolan's birthday is March 2nd.

That was a totally crazy weekend- got Mom off the plane Thursday afternoon, Amanda's Honor Orchestra performance was that night, ran my "have to" errands Friday morning, finished packing bags and food for the weekend, got Nolan out of school early, loaded up Maria's van with all our crap, showed the house to a Realtor, got in the van and carpooled to Rio Rancho with Maria and her three kids (who were all awesome all weekend) so we could share a hotel room too, got to the venue and got the kids weighed in, went back to the hotel and heated up dinner while Maria took the kids to the pool for 30 minutes, had dinner and cleaned up, got showers and went to bed. Saturday was eight hours of wrestling and the kids who wrestle in New Mexico are flipping beasts, then Nolan and I spent the evening with my nephew Cody's family. Sunday we woke up and went back to the tourney, where Nolan subsequently fractured his foot (yes, seriously) and took second place in his bracket, then we left and Maria's bunch, Coach Avery and us two met my sister and her special friend (for the first time) and her special friend's daughter (yup, first time) for lunch. We ate and gabbed, then loaded up and came back to El Paso. My mother had dinner ready when we got home, so we unloaded and ate, then headed for the ER on the advice of the paramedics at the arena for x-rays. As dumb luck would have it, the x-ray confirmed the fracture and we got home around 1:30 in the morning. It was already Nolan's birthday, so he got an ugly fractured foot shoe for his birthday. I took Nolan to school a couple of hours late, hit the store for birthday shopping and we all went to dinner for his birthday. We woke up and got Tuesday going, then it was time to take my mother to the plane to go home. Yes, insane.

By that night, I felt like death was creeping up on me. No, I really felt horrible. My mother was convinced I needed to go to the hospital at one point. I dodged that bullet. When I woke up Tuesday, I actually did feel much better. Wednesday was about the same, until the evening when I got sick again. When I woke up Thursday, I called for an appointment.

I got an early appointment, got the kids out the door, got ready and got to the appointment. It was actually not a bad medical experience and I am not going to complain about the service I was given, as it was more than adequate. I didn't have to wait forever in the waiting room, I was triaged quickly, I was put in a room immediately and the Nurse Practitioner was in right after that. It didn't take much convincing for her to confirm that I did have a sinus infection. Her official diagnosis was a "raging sinus infection." So, seven prescriptions later (I was actually only given six at the pharmacy-stay tuned) I was on my way. I didn't even have to wait that long at the pharmacy.

As soon as I got home, I took my meds and thought I could get some vacuuming or something done, but I was so wrong. I got an email in to the Realtor (grr) asking her to lower our price again and then I thought I would pass out so I went to bed. I slept until it was time to get the kids. I was grateful that we didn't have practice (due to the foot issue), grabbed a quick dinner at God's little blessing known as the drive-through, came home and ate and choked down some more pills before I passed out in bed. Friday meant more pills and after I got the kids to school I collapsed again.

I spoke with Travis later in the day and he and I figured my body just knew Monday that I could finally just totally poop-out and be sick. By that night, I was so nauseated I could barely move. I got some of the happy tummy yogurt and tried that to calm things down. That night I started chugging the Imitrol or Imitrex or whatever the anit-pukey liquid stuff is called. We laid low all weekend and my stomach continued to punish me.

Last night we went to watch our friends' daughter cheer at her first game (she's five) and then came home, and the nausea was still hanging on. I called the doctor again this morning and they got me in.

I had to see a different provider today and he seemed to think that the 875 mg Augmentin was a little much for my gut to handle so he changed me to a completely different antibiotic and took me off the head-swimming anti-histamine I got last week as well. He said the infection was still bad enough I needed a full course of meds. Joy. I hit the pharmacy and didn't have the good luck with the wait time I had last week, but when they finally did get to me, I got the prescription the pharmacy didn't give me last week (gee, good job, guys) that I no longer really needed as well as the one from today. The PA also told me to expect the nausea to last through tomorrow, until the first antibiotic clears out. And guess what, I'm still sick.

So, I guess the over-assertive approach with the uber-antibiotic was needed, even though it was too strong for me. Yet again, this is another reason I need to move. I need to have sinus surgery and a nose job to repair my incredibly deviated septum and I wont have it until Travis and I are living in the same house. I need his help because from what I hear, it can be a pretty intense surgery, especially since I need both procedures. NEED. TO. MOVE.

Our contract with our Realtor expires on the 31st. I have no idea exactly what will happen after that, but I am hoping we have an offer by then. The house is now priced at $110,000, which works out to $46.02 per square foot. As I now ask complete strangers, "Wanna buy a big, cheap house?"

So We Were at the Troop Medical Center

2009-02-04T11:08:00.000-08:00

Current mood: annoyed

Watch out, lane changes will occur with little or no warning in this one-

A couple of weeks ago La Princessa began complaining about a pain in her foot. I usuallly have a complaint about her only it is slightly further northward. After asking if there was a sore or anything there, I took her complaint seriously and told her if it continued or got worse to tell me. Last week she complained again and showed me a bump thing in the middle of the ball of her foot. I told her what I thought and what I thought we should do- watch her a little more.

Over the weekend she spent some time limping and on Monday night she said it was feeling a little better but that the bump thing was bigger. I forgot about it yesterday but it was bugging her at practice last night, so I decided to call in for an appointment today. Oh joy.

Our appointment line turns on at 6:45 and if you are not calling in at 6:41 you aren't likely to get an appointment. Why? Military health care, which I do not normally complain (too much) about, is a big giganticus HMO and most of our primary care doctors/nurse practitioners/physician's assistants and the like, are housed in very large clinic-style facilities and ours is overtaxed. Bigtime. See, Fort Bliss is growing tremendously and will be doubled to about 30,000 active duty Soldiers within the next four years. That number does not include their families or the civilian work force necessary to support the growth. So when we call Central Appointments, the appointments we may or may not get are a bit of a crapshoot. I called at 6:47 because I lost track of time. Dude gave me the only appointment available- 8:00, take it or leave it. I took.

Both kids were still in morning coma and my hair was dripping wet, but we pulled it together and left the house at 7:28 to get Nolan to school and us to post. I dropped Amanda in the parking lot and told her to check in because we just did squeak through the traffic jam at Marshall and Fred Wilson with enough time for her to check in. So, she went in and I parked. They called her just as I got in the lobby. Our lobby is huge. I would say about 200 people can be seated and/or waiting at any given time. There are tons of providers and I couldn't begin to tell you how many, but my estimate is somewhere around 40? Anyone assigned to the Troop Medical Center, which is not officially called the Soldier Family Medical Center (but I refuse to call it that because they have only renamed it four times in the last five years and I am not changing it anymore), can be seen there, from newborns to Generals, so it is a pretty hoppin' type o' place. Today was no exception.

When they called her back we manuevered through the Wounded Warriors and the strollers and the medics and the escorts and the everything to get to our nurse. She had to take us to two different rooms for Amanda's triage. In between those rooms is another waiting area for Soldiers on sick call. Now, my kid is pretty. Many (most) of these Soldiers are less than three years older than her. Yes, they noticed. Aside from my nearly hyperventilating at their checking her out, I realized something which shouldn't really be that big of a surprise to me after seventeen years. I am a part of a military community, as are my kids. We visit, on a nearly daily basis, a cesspool of unbridled, barely post-pubescent testosterone. Minor panic attack. Oh, and we're moving to a training post with our gorgeous fifteen year old, very innocent daughter. Holy crap. OK.

Once we were settled and waiting on the doctor, another nurse (whom I assume is assigned to another provider, becuase it is usually one nurse/medic to each provider) knocked on our door, opened it and then mumbled something and shut the door again. Excuse me, door closed-medical facility-you're shocked that a patient was present? Whatevah. Keep your unintelligible self out of my kid's room, K?

Our doctor came in and hallelujah, she was active duty! I love active duty doctors. They are awesome and usually very personable and to me, they really listen to the patient. So, we were lucky today and didn't get the person who can't seem to manage outside on the economy, but chooses to serve the military and their families with their talents and knowledge. So there. She took Amanda's history and crinkled her nose when she learned that she cheers and wrestles and then mashed on the foot with the growing bump/nodule/knot/growth thing. And, what did she ascertain? This is not a tumor nor a nodule nor a knot but it is a blister. Heh? A blister? It is huge and hiding up in her foot space. Yup, its a blister which has formed up in the muscular part of the ball of her foot but it can't come to the skin's surface because she is so active that her skin on the bottom of her foot is thick. I know, sounds really flipping weird. She told us to soak it and gave us some military Skittles (Motrin) and sent us on our way.

That meant we had to return to the main waiting area for the pharmacy. No problem, or so I thought. I sent Amanda over to get our number at the pharmacy while I turned in a form at the front desk. After a minute I joined her in the corner of the waiting area the pharmacy uses. As soon as I got there I noticed the overwhelming "scent" of crap. Yes, sorry, gross I know, shoulda been there, it was awful! Again, all kinds of peeps there and you never know what you are going to get.

Today we got a sprinkling of all kinds and I am cool with that. What I am not cool with is stinky baby and her momma. This mom was in her early twenties and dressed nicely. Not extravagantly, just nicely. She was clean and seemed to have HER business in check. Her daughter was probably a little over two. They had an umbrella stroller, but the baby wasn't sitting in it. She was wandering, which I can also deal with. Here's where I start to lose my dang mind. This child had on socks. No shoes. She was old enough to walk and was walking, in public, at a medical facility which services sick people -in socks. Which were black. Socks, and it was a chilly morning, somewhere around 35 when we left the house. She was the obvious culprit of the engulfing poo-ness. As she toddled about, it wafted and wafted and wafted. Most of us were on the verge of gagging but it didn't seem to phase her mother. This poor baby's hair was shoulder length and not brushed. Baby-fine hair tangles and assumes the strangest of positions and is easy to spot when not groomed. Her face was not dirty, but there were obvious booger tracks from her nose to her mouth. They were thick and white and had been there for a while. I wanted to slap her mother, who had not brought a diaper bag, but had managed to slip a bottle of milk (ew, no telling how old it was) in her Dooney and Bourke.

Obviously, this is a person who understands a few things about life like showering and wearing clothing appropriate for the weather, including footwear. She must be able to afford something in the shoe family for this child if she can afford the dual purpose purse/bottle tote bag she had, so why the obvious omission of footwear? I looked. There were none in the stroller. The bag was too small to house them (it was like a roomy wallet with a strap), there were no shoes.

What the heck? Is it me? Am I the problem because I think that a child of walking age ought be shod in something sutiable for their age and walking ability? Is it too much to ask to take twenty seconds to run a comb through your child's hair or swipe their face with a baby wipe every hour? And, even more importantly, this mom didn't seem to be waddling around in her own poo. What the heck is the problem? Take the baby to the bathroom, where they do have a changing table, and change her pants. Sheesh! I can't imagine how long the load had been there, but the diaper was sagging and bulging pretty badly. How hard is it? Change the diaper.

Change it and then I will think you are a reasonable person. But, until then, I think you are an idiot. And put some friggin' shoes on your kid.

Currently listening:Little Tiny Smelly BitBy The Stinky PuffsRelease date: 1995-06-22

FaceSpace-MyBook-BlogHoo

2009-02-02T10:28:00.000-08:00

Current mood: contemplative

Wow, these "social networking" websites are really starting to absorb a lot of my time. When I joined MySpace a few years back it was because a dear friend was driving me nuts. Then I joined Yahoo 360 and started blogging there. That was great until their bugs got the better of everyone. Next I set up a Bogger page and I still contribute there as well as the MySpace. And then, for some reason, I went to Facebook and I import my blog there as well. I'm so hooked.

This has been wonderful for me as a military spouse. Most of my friends are fairly transient, in a way we haven't been. I usually have a timeline for my friendships of about two years, since everyone but us has had the chance to move away. Yes, we'll hopefully be moving too at some point, but not right now. These sites have enabled me to keep in touch with all my friends who have moved away and are still near and dear to my heart.

What amazes me even more is the number of people I have gotten back in touch with from school. Holy cow! I am having SO much fun! I was excited to get to go back home for our ten year reunion and now that the twenty is on the horizon, I am shocked. But, I've learned a lot.

There were people in high school I couldn't stand. I am thinking it bordered on hate in some cases. Some of those people hated me first or were hating me back, some were people who I didn't know but didn't like anyway and some were people who were very different from me and thus, dislike. Now that I truly understand hate, I try to veer away from it whenever possible.

What I have learned is that these are some pretty decent people. They are the kind of people I would be friends with today. I've grown a lot. I've matured a lot. My life experiences have enabled me to see things very differently from the way I did in high school. I think I like me a whole lot more today. Here are some more things I've noted:

BOYS: In school, I wasn't the girl every boy wanted to go out with, but I was a great buddy to a good number of guys. Looking back, I think that was better for me. At the time, I desperately wanted to be the girl guys "liked" "that way," but never was, AND if I was, the guys NEVER let me know (so, you have some explaining to do, why is that?). I had a lot of self-esteem problems from that in school because people close to me were "those" girls and I hated that I wasn't. But, I am OK with all that now. Heck, if I had been the type guys asked out, I wouldn't have been the type that would ask a guy out and I might not have ever had that first date with my husband. And, when I read the pages of the boys I knew back then, I realize what sweethearts most of these men have become. They are men who love their wives tremendously and who strive to give their kids great lives. They are open and accepting and I for one want to hug you all just for being good guys.

GIRLS: Again, I had issues. I was a spaz. I know that now like I knew it then, but that was who I was. I spent most of high school disliking some girls simply because I was jealous of how beautiful they were and that the boys really did "like them" more than they "liked" me in "that way." That is so hard for me to swallow today. Now, I am able to see that my life has turned out exactly as it should have. Were I different in school I would be very different now, and there is no trade in the world equitable enough for who I am now. So, if I was ever a cow to you or annoyed you (because that was often my goal), I apologize. Having my own teenager has taught me that kids really do go brain dead in puberty. I see who you are today and how you relate to your families and I think it is beautiful. I think you are beautiful too, all of you.

I wish I could go back and remain friends with the boys I dated back then or the girls I burned bridges with. I wouldn't still pine after the boys and that stalker type is not my thing, but seriously, how immature was I? These are the people who helped formulate my foundation and they helped make me who I am. Obviously at one point, each of these people with whom I had friendships or relationships were valuable to me. Now I wonder why I lost sight of that value.

So, here's to you, everyone I used to know. I've missed you and wondered "who" you all became since we graduated and grew up and some of us moved away. I really do love you guys!

Currently listening:Grease - Deluxe EditionBy Olivia Newton-JohnRelease date: 2003-09-23

Weekend Musings

2009-02-01T20:50:00.000-08:00

Current mood: uncomfortable

I slept until around 9 on Saturday. I have no idea how I accomplished that bit of good fortune, but I did and I needed it. Of course, once I woke up it was laundry time and cleaning time and all the crap I didn't want to do time. So, I did it. Nolan was feeling horrible with a cold, but he had a wrestling match so I doped him up and we were on our way to the far east side. Like, so far east that we were in Baton Rouge or something.

When we got there, the kids were in rare form. The fought with each other and acted like asses so I put them in check. I had one in tears there and not wanting to compete and one begging me to be be lenient on her, which I was not. I wound up taking two iPods, a phone, computer priveledges and game console rights. Yup, I'm that kinda cow.

Eventually, he did compete. He felt so awful, and I wasn't sure how he would do. He lost his first bout to a kid that cannot possibly be eleven or under. He was huge, and my kid is huge, but this kid was WAY huger. WAY! He did hang in there for a while with him, however. He won his next bout against a kid he's beat before. The boy was crying to his mother before their bout about not wanting to face Nolan. A teeny-tiny part of me kinda sorta felt bad for him, but I don't like his mother because she is rude and she was mean to him, so I got over it quick. A lot of wrestling parents are flat-out mean to their kids about "how" they wrestle or not being motivated. They scream at the kids as if life depended on their performance. I hate that. It can't be my dream. It has to be their dream or not at all. His third bout was against G from TF. He's lost every bout he's had against him, but he's getting closer every time to overcoming his mental block about him. He didn't lose until G got him in a hold and hyperextended Nolan's shoulder. I was very proud of his fourth place finish.

I felt bad for Amanda because this was the third match she had to sit out for the wrist. Her therapist wont release her yet because she hasn't built up enough strength to help her combat the inflamation. She is dying to wrestle again. Secretly, although I do understand how much she wants to compete, I am glad she can't. She is so small that the guys just throw her around and her inexperience totally works against her. Coach D did say something that both disturbed me and cracked me up at the same time. He told me to have her flirt and be girly and stretch in front of them so they pop a woody because then they wont wrestle well. See, funny and disturbing all at once. I think I'll pass on the woody being within a relatively close proximity of my kid, thanks. But I am laughing. Now she's complaining about this thing on he foot hurting her. At first I just thought she was whining, then she made me feel it. There is a marble-sized lump in the ball of her foot. I guess we're going to see a doc again. Joy.

After the tourney we ran to WalMart where all the SuperBowl idiots were on-hand to act as if the absence of ample chicken wings was a sign of the apocolypse. Seriously, people were losing their dang minds. I got a reusable ice pack for the kids' frequent and increasing injuries and some Motrin for the inflamation. It pays to have medics as coaches!

We got home, had chicken Caesar ciabatta sandwiches and I crashed early. The kids stayed up and watched a movie. I don't know why I've been so stinking sleepy.

Today I woke up and did the tax thing. Yay. Not really, but whatever. I am underwhelmed by it all. I got home and cleaned a little and then we delivered fundraising cups for cheer and ran to grab some snacks for the game. Guess what- more dummies were losing their ever-loving minds. I just mosied through and got a pack of chicken wings which were miraculously in-stock and some Sudafed and we came home. I promptly changed into jammies and pulled my hair back and watched the game and did nothing. It was glorious.

And, all I have to say is that James Harrison should really have been thrown out of the game or something. He had an awesome run, but that doesn't allow him to act like an a-hole.

Oh, and one day we will have a dog named Fitzie in honor of Larry Fitzgerald. Thank you very much!

Currently listening:All Star WeekendRelease date: 2003-04-22

Yup, You Rock

2009-02-01T20:47:00.000-08:00

Current mood: grateful

Radiothon has come and gone (silly rhyme was accidental) and we did well. Considering that last year we just broke $100k and the recession/depression/financial malady of your choosing of the last several months, I don't think our total of somewhere in the area of $84k is all that shabby. I did tell the guys, however, that no matter what, every year during the drive home I get the feeling I could have done more to help us make more for St. Jude.

I met some amazing people this year and I feel like I am going out on a high note. I know that there is always a possiblity that I can do another radiothon somewhere or that I can fly back for two days to do it here, but I am going to move forward with the thought that my days of doing this are through. Maybe it is just a coping mechanism.

El Paso has a few St. Jude patients we've had the pleasure to come to know. The first survivor I met, nine years ago, was TM. She was three when she was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. She was flown to St. Jude where treatment began immediately. Her mother, LM, would later learn that T was within hours of death. Today she is a healthy and amazing young woman who sings and has (last I had heard) eight little brothers and sisters. She has aspirations of making it big in a Christian rock band. I didn't get to see her this year, but I love her for showing me the heart of the hospital.

GO is another St. Jude patient. I've never had the chance to meet him. I know that he's been on with the station a few times in the last six or so years. He's gone back and forth in his treatment and had successes and setbacks, but he's still going and that makes him one of my heroes. Rumor was that he was getting a service dog this week. I am excited for him.

Today I met a little girl who is nine. I want you to know her name because I want you to know her. If you pray, I want you to pray for her. If you don't pray, I want you to contemplate goodness and wish it her way. Her name is Briana. In the early months of last year, she began to complain of headaches from time to time. Her mother, Maribel, didn't think it was much to be concerned about because kids sometimes get headaches. Before too much more time passed, her eyes began to cross, one at a time. Maribel took her to the doctor, who told her that she was fine and that there were no problems. Her next step was to see the eye doctor, who confirmed that there was a problem and she needed additional testing. She was admitted to the hospital immediately after the CT scan which revealed that she had not one, but two tumors in her brain. She was in the hospital for a few days here in El Paso, then she was transferred to Memphis to be treated at the main campus of St. Jude. She underwent thirty continuous days of radiation on her tumors and doctors introduced them to a new experimental chemotherapy. It didn't take long for her doctors to tell her mother that the tumors had matured and that one of them was at her brain stem. The location of the tumors makes them inoperable. That was April 2 and her doctors told Maribel that she had twelve to fourteen months to live. Now, because of the tumors and their relationship to her nervous system, she is having problems with simple things like speaking and writing and walking. She is in the third grade. She travels to Memphis twice a month to receive treatments. She loves Hannah Montana and painting. She wants to sing on American Idol. And, April 2 marks one year from her diagnosis and prognosis. She has an eighteen year old brother who is in college and wishes he hadn't told her to scram from his room so much. She has a little sister who is eighteen months old. When Briana has a hard time walking, her little sister, who is just a baby herself, will come to her and take her hand and try to help her walk. She also gently rubs her big sister's head. Briana believes she is going to get better. The doctors told Maribel to make their days happy. Maribel doesn't cry much any more because she wants her days to be happy.

Later tonight I met a five year old boy named SR. He has a scar on the back of his head that could have just as easily have happened by wiping out on a Big Wheel as it could have from brain surgery, but he had the latter. He was seventeen months old when his mother (who was sixteen at the time) noticed that he had stopped walking when he had been just learning to run. He had become lethargic and always seemed to be battling nausea. When she took him to the doctor they knew right away that there was something seriously wrong. Doctors in El Paso took his tumor out and then sent him to Memphis. He was in remission by his second birthday. He didn't much care that I wanted to talk to him. He was eating a huge green popsicle.

That is why I do this. I know that there are those who survive and that some will not, but every one of these kids has a story worth hearing. They deserve a chance to make their mark in this world. They deserve to be well, to grow up, to make their own joy and make their mark in their own way. If you called and made a pledge today, I thank you with all that I am. Your generosity makes St. Jude possible. If you listened today, I want to thank you as well. Just by listening, you know more about St. Jude and what it can do for a child in need. You now have the power to share that knowledge with others. That is power in your hands. Use it if you have the chance.

I love you for giving me the chance to do this for the kids of St. Jude.

Currently listening:Celebration of Life: Musicians Against Childhood CancerBy Various ArtistsRelease date: 2006-04-18

Nerves of Jello

2009-01-28T21:41:00.000-08:00

Current mood: hopeful

Every weekday and three out of every four Saturdays (and some Sundays sprinkled in for good measure), for five years, I got in my car and drove to the radio station. I loved the job and I loved the listeners and I loved the music (I really, really loved the music) and the job was custom-made just for me. It was a beautiful life for me, aside from the time I missed with my kids. And, there was a lot I missed.

I left the station in 2003 after Travis being gone for four months on his first tour to Iraq. Working the morning show hours, plus all the remotes and weekends was killing me and the boss who only took his desires to heart made it the perfect time for me to go. And, with the boss, I would have hated radio had I stuck around any longer. I quit at the top of my game, I went out my way and I still loved radio when I walked away. (Plus, I got to be with my kids all the time!)

I was so nervous to return five months later for the radiothon. I was uninvited, but I felt the cause calling me and I could not resist the pull St. Jude has on me. I knew at that point there was something foreign in my body but the "c" word hadn't entered the scene yet. That came about two weeks later. So, then I was "sick" and then I was in treatment and then I was well, and the following week my dad was gone. Five months after that the radiothon came back around and I heard the call again.

Every year for the next three I went back, while the same programmer was there and was unwelcoming and disingenuous but I would have never missed the radiothons. Especially not because of him.

Last year was the first one in five years where he was not present. And let me tell you, it renewed my spirit and the existing staff welcomed me and we had a kick butt radiothon and our total was higher than the last couple of years and it was awesome. Even though only one of the full-timers on staff was there when I was, these people are members of my extended family and always will be. I love them with all my heart. I love the volunteers who come back year after year to answer our phones and I love the St. Jude staffers who come to train us and encourage us and organize us and keep us in the game. They help fill my heart.

Today I went back to KHEY for the radiothon train-up. Six of us gathered in the conference room with the two reps from St. Jude and we went over facts and figures and had such a nice time. After the meeting I went to Marty's office to chat radio chat. I love Marty and I am so excited for the wonderful things on his horizon, even though there is some uncertainty. The longer we talked, the more I realized that leaving when I did is what preserved the golden memories of my radio career for me. It is so nice to know that you are where you are supposed to be in your life.

I feel changes coming. They've actually been coming for a long time and I've known it (duh), but I sense them so much more now. Premonitions or divinity or disillusion, I know not, nor do I care. But today, I realized I AM where I need to be right now. I was meant to be here in El Paso for this radiothon. This is what I am supposed to do for the next two days. But, here's the thing... I've always had a mini-dose of nerves before going on mic, even when I was on the air every day, but tonight I have this odd case of the nerves. I am a wreck in one way, but feel a calm in another. Whatever it is, I hope it helps me do well tomorrow and I hope it helps me and Marty and Scott and Vickie and Chris and Bobcat (shh, it is radio, we are allowed funny names) to inspire hoards of people to call in and pledge and save kids lives.

And, after that, I will continue to look upward instead of right in front of myself.

Currently listening:Happy GirlBy Martina McBrideRelease date: 1998-05-12

Looking Forward

2009-01-27T20:36:00.000-08:00

Current mood: contemplative

Craziness abounds at Casa Bee. Jeesh, one would think that our insane schedules would be a piece of cake for me by this point and that abnormal is somehow comforting to us, but I am tired.

This week we have district honor band for Nolan. Of course, since our home is in the Northeast and there are only five of the district's schools in the Northeast, we have to drive to the eastern-most depths of El Paso for every single district event. I understand holding the performances at the district office because that is where functions should be held, but rehearsal locations should be rotated. Oh well, no one cares what I think and we are moving (some stinkin' day) anyway so I guess I'll get over it. Two nights down, two nights to go.

Tomorrow we have to leave rehearsal early for wrestling weigh-ins. That's on Fort Bliss. Ugh.

I've been so negative lately. I know that the current state of our family and our seemingly never-ending separation is the primary culprit, but I am sick of me, so I am sure most of you are as well.

Normally, I am a pretty happy person. I would even venture to say I am a content person. I miss me. I miss being fun. Having fun. I really miss laughing. Sure, I giggle with the kids, but there is absolutely nothing as funny as Travis. There is just something about his demeanor which sends me arse over tea-kettle laughing and I've only had very small doses of that over the last ten and a half months.

I have tried doing all the things people suggest for our situation. I've somewhat staged the house and I am not doing any more staging because we do have to live here, after all. I've kept it clean. I've made it available. I've followed the Realtor's advice. I've priced the house competitively, then lowered the price and lowered it again below market value and below what EVERYONE else is asking for theirs. I've marketed the house myself in addition to what the Realtor has done. Prayer. Tears. You name it, yes. I have tried it. Well all except burying a statue of St. Joseph in the yard next to the for sale sign facing the house. That's next.

I need to find me again. I don't know for sure, but I think part of me is hanging in some kind of limbo over the interstate between El Paso and Columbia. A big part of me (wish it had taken a big part of my butt along with it) just seems missing. So, I am going to set my mind to feeling better. I am tired of feeling tired. I am tired of feeling run-down and crappy all the time. I am not sure how I am going to pep myself up, but I will. I don't have a choice any more. If I do this for much longer, I'll really lose my mind.

I would appreciate it if those of my friends who are reading this will forgive me my crappiness. I promise to try to be more me the next time you see me.

Currently listening:Classical ChilloutBy Various ArtistsRelease date: 2002-05-21

If You Can

2009-01-26T11:09:00.000-08:00

Current mood: hopeful

This week marks the coming of another milestone for me. Thursday and Friday are the days of the annual KHEY St. Jude Children's Research Hospital Radiothon. This will be my eleventh and final radiothon with KHEY.

When I first started my radio career, I was a board-op. I worked the undesirable shifts when pre-programmed shows would air and I would be off-air handling the commercial load, news feeds and the like. It was boring, but good for me because I was in school full-time and it gave me time to study without too many distractions.

I had "won" my position at a city-wide talent search for a new morning show jock. I came in second to a television news reporter who was looking to broaden her horizons. She lasted a few months in the job, but I got the best end of the deal because I learned hands-on how to handle a shift. I could produce my own show, once I learned the ropes. Somehow it clicked with me and I was a relatively quick study.

K.T. left the position after a few months. She generallly worked the late news shift and coming in for a morning show which went on the air at 6am must have been grueling for her. During that time, I started working my own on-air shift on Saturday nights. I was air-checking with our Operations Manager regularly adn I was improving. Our station was also in a time of transition as our Program Director, Danny, was leaving. He held on longer than he wanted to because our General Manager hadn't found a replacement for him. Danny needed someone to work the board while the staff did the radiothon from a local mall, so he asked me. That was my first long-term remote broadcast. It wasn't entirely perfect, but I did ok.

Shortly after that, our new PD, CM, came to town. He was full of energy and wanted to make a killing in the ratings. For a while, he was just what we needed. He had infused our station with his drive and it was a very good thing. He was the person who fought to bring a female voice to the morning show again. I was the one he wanted. He, and Mr. Randy and I all seemed to gel very well together. We had a few months before it was time again for the radiothon. That year was when the importance of the radiothon became a reality to me.

I worked two incredibly long thirteen hour days. But, I learned so much. I learned about the human spirit and what life means to a child. I met a local girl who had survived Acute Lymphotic Leukemia (ALL), which is the most common type of childhood cancer. I heard her speak about what she could remember of her ordeal and I listened intently as her mother spoke about the impact Tori's illness had on her. I cried with her, I soaked in what she said and I thanked God that I hadn't had to endure that kind of tragedy. And, that was the beginning of a relationship with St. Jude which has touched my heart and changed my life.

St. Jude is truly an amazing place. This is a place where children go to live. The halls of this hospital do not bring to mind the hospitals that you and I know and hate. It looks more like a child care center. There are murals and wagons and aquariums and busy bead tables as much as there are catheters and chemotherapy. The hospital staffs social workers and counselors to aid not only the patients receiving treatment but also the families who suffer alongside them. They nurture and teach and encourage. They reach out and embrace all who enter the doors behind a massive statue of St. Jude, the patron saint of lost causes, regardless of race, creed, color, religion, or most importantly, a patient's ability to pay for treatment.

That's right, St. Jude never turns a patient away for financial reasons. If a patient has no insurance, the bill is paid and the family will never see an invoice, statement or bill. NEVER. If a patient is covered by insurance, they never pay a co-pay and are never charged for anything not covered by their policy. And again, no statements, no bills, no fees. How beautiful is that?

St. Jude is funded by private donations. As of last year's statistics, more than 82% of all funds was applied directly to patient treatment and research. That is more than any other non-profit organization in our country. That means that less than seventeen cents of every dollar raised is used for administrative fees and advertising costs, which help generate more donations. We seek Partners in Hope to help us in our quest to end childhood catastrophic illnesses.

What does a Partner in Hope do? The most important part of what a PIH does is save the lives of children. Through a Partner's generous donation of just $20 per month, St. Jude is able to treat and explore illnesses which affect innocent kids, thereby saving them from suffering, saving them from death, and saving their families from insurmountable loss. Your $20 puts more than $16.40 in the hands of researchers. It buys IV bags. It supplies port-catheters which deliver life-saving chemotherapy to kids who might otherwise die if they didn't have treatment. And, that $3.60 I didn't mention helps to make sure the hospital is staffed and runs effectively, that it is clean, that more life-saving dollars can come in to save more kids.

If you don't have kids, you might wonder why this is such an important entity to support. That's fair. Now, allow me to educate you. Researchers at St. Jude work day in and day out looking for things like genetic markers which signal that some children will likely develop certain types of cancer. That research helps scientists develop things like new drug protocols to fight cancer and other catastrophic illnesses. These protocols don't just help kids. These new treatment options are being used to treat adults stricken with cancer as well.

And just what are the other catastrophic illnesses about which I speak? Influenza, HIV/AIDS, Sickle Cell, and many, many others. Docotors at St. Jude have helped in the development of the Flu vaccines so many of us take every winter in an attempt to stay well. The most beautiful part of this research is that when the scientists and doctors at St. Jude find a cure and eventually the ability to prevent the onset of cancer and other diseases affecting children, that treatment protocol will be given away. Yes, you read correctly. The cure will be freely given away. Pharmeceutical companies are conducting research of their own, as we speak, but they will never give their research or treatment methods away. St. Jude will and they will never ask anyone for a dime when they do. And, I believe with every fiber of my existence that these researchers and scientists and doctors will find both a cure and the measures needed to prevent these illnesses. There is nothing greater than that.

St. Jude was founded when the actor Danny Thomas was down and out. Danny's wife had just given birth to their first child, a daughter they named Margaret Julia. We would later come to know her as Marlo Thomas, an actress of much critical acclaim. At the time of Marlo's birth, Danny was an out of work actor with just a few dollars to his name. Knowing he didn't have enough money to pay the hospital bill to get Marlo and his wife, Rose Marie out of the hospital, he attended a mass. He was so moved during the service that he put his last $7 in the collection plate and prayed to St. Jude the following prayer: Help me find my way in life and I will build you a shrine. The next day he was offered a job which paid $70, ten times more than he had placed in the collection plate. Shortly thereafter, his career took a turn for the better and he became a well-known actor.

And build, he did. Chosing Memphis, Tennessee as the location of the hospital, Danny sought out the support of local business leaders to help him fund the initial phases of the project. He carefully chose Memphis as the location because it was a location central to most Americans. It was, and still is, just a day's travel away from any location in the United States. Danny carefully orchestrated fundraising efforts and even loaded up the family station wagon with his wife and growing family to criss-cross the country seeking out those willing to help him fulfill his promise to St. Jude.

By 1960, Danny and his organization, ALSAC (American Lebanese Syrian Associated Charities), were ready to fund the hospital but faced the task of operating funds to run the facility. In 1962, the doors of the hospital opened with the pledge that, "No child should die in the dawn of life."

So, I ask today that you help us continue Danny Thomas' dream. Please listen to KHEY 96.3 (www.khey.com) this Thursday and Friday from 6am-7pm MST. I will be guest co-hosting from 10am-2pm MST both days. If you are able, you may call in to the toll-free number we will provide and become a Partner in Hope. If it is more convenient, you may go to the station's website and become a Partner by clicking on the St. Jude link. I understand that these are difficult times and our current economic situation is affecting everyone. If $20 a month is not something you are able to do, consider joining with a friend or loved one to share the Partnership. Or, you can always make a one time donation. There is no more noble cause than that which strives to better the lives of children.

Please join me and the staff of KHEY this Thursday and Friday for two days which will change not only the lives of children, but also your own.

Currently listening:Thank You St. JudeBy Peter CaseRelease date: 2004-05-04

This and That

2009-01-25T21:51:00.000-08:00

Current mood: hopeful

The plan was to hit the gym or the track or the 'hood or something yesterday for some cardio. Didn't happen. I woke up with big, old dog, Phoenix, four times between 11:00 Friday night and 4:30 Saturday morning. That's OK, but when I woke up at 4:30 I knew something was wrong.

I've been having some pretty intense headaches over the last couple of weeks. I have had serious allergy/sinus problems since I was a very little kid, so I recognize my sinuses when they are out of whack. I've been Tylenoling and Mucinexing and that has seemed to relieve some of the discomfort. When the symptoms go away, so do the meds because I already take enough flipping pills every day anyway. I stopped taking the stuff Tuesday. So, yesterday morning the plan was to get up and get dressed and work out in some way or another, then come home and get ready for the wrestling tourney in the afternoon.

I woke up dry heaving. Sorry, I know it is gross. So, I couldn't even lay down after that. I went to the family room and had to sit up while I was sleeping because I felt like I was going to hurl again.

I did get up for the day about 7 and I started cleaning. Eventually the kids woke up and I gave them their lists, which for some reason seemed unfinishable to them. That ticked me off. I hopped in the shower and the kids and I all got ready and we left about 12:30 for the tournament.

Amanda is still out of wrestling. Her physical therapist wont release her yet so she can't compete or stunt in cheer. Her new thing is to wander around the tourneys bothering her brother (nothing new about that) and check out the older wrestlers. Yay. How nice.

When Nolan's bracket did begin, he was in the mindset that he was going to win a gold. Maybe I shoudln't have, but I reminded him that the boys he was wrestling were boys who knew his weakness is his neck. It isn't that I want to discourage him. I simply want him to be aware and remember that he can choose to overcome his weaknesses. I guess I am a cow for that.

Last year, Nolan lost every match. He hated everything about wrestling, but we wouldn't let him quit in the middle of a season. I thought once it was all over that he would never wrestle again, but two weeks after the season was over he told us he missed it and couldn't wait to wrestle again. He felt like this season was going to be all about him. So, he took the mat for his first match. He won. He's beat the boy several times in the past weeks. Even so, A.H., the other boy, is progressing very well and seems to be really working at improving himself. During their bout, Nolan hurt him. It wasn't intentional, but he jacked up A.H.'s wrist pretty badly. They used an injury timeout to wrap his wrist and he got back in it. He did very well, but Nolan pinned him. His second bout was with a kid from the WW team. I forgot his name. This kid doesn't look like he's a contender, but he is. He is the boy that challenged Nolan's silver at this season's first tourney and won. He got Nolan yesterday too. I think they went into the second round, but he got Nolan's neck. Then it was over and he pinned Nolan. His third round was against G from TeamF. G has beaten Nolan in every match they've had together. Of course, TeamF is staffed by Nolan's coaches from last year so they know what Nolan's soft spots are. Maybe they do and maybe they don't coach him as to Nolan's weaknesses, but he gets Nolan every time. So, they went to the buzzer in all three rounds. Up until the last five seconds of the third round, they were tied 5-5. G got Nolan in the hold which always freaks Nolan out three separate times, and I don't think I have ever been prouder of him (at a match). He got out of the hold each time without losing focus, without freaking out, and without giving up. And he went to the final buzzer. In the last five seconds G scored three points. None of us saw the move that got G the three points so we all thought there would be another round to break the tie. But, he did and there wasn't. Nolan was heartbroken. I think he thought I would be disappointed in him. I wasn't, and I told him as much. He had his heart set on a trophy (1st place) but he took his bronze with a smile on his face. He walked out of that gym feeling like a winner, and that is what counts most.
*Sidebar- He's medaled at every tourney he's done this year! Woo-Hoo! Yay for Nolan!

We got home and cleaned some more, I made dinner and hung out in bed watching TV. The kids watched a movie and we all went to bed around midnight. I woke up all night again with the dog, and got up this morning with a killer headache and the gut ache. I finally put it all together. I think I have a sinus infection because the headache is in my left sinuses and the drainage makes me nauseous. I guess I'll go in this week. I am supposed to have sinus surgery and have a nose job to repair the deviated septum, but I can't do that when I am here alone. Hopefully they can dope me up really well and then I can worry about surgery later.

I was making cookies this afternoon whent he doorbell rang. It was a guy asking about the house. I asked him if he wanted to see it. He seemed apprehensive about it but came in and saw the house. We talked for a while and he seems very interested. He doesn't have a loan yet, but he said he can work on that. I don't want to get my hopes up too much, but I want him to buy this place.

So, please, send good house selling chi our way.

Currently listening:The Bronze Buckaroo (Rides Again)By Herb JeffriesRelease date: 1995-06-13

Playlists

2009-01-23T10:04:00.000-08:00

Current mood: okay

Yesterday's playlist: All You Ever Do is Bring Me Down- Mavericks, Candyman-Christina Aguilera, Can't Touch This- MC Hammer, Here Comes My Baby- Maverics, Don't Stop Believin'- Journey, It's My Life- No Doubt, Dirty- Christina Aguilera, You Look Good in My Shirt- Keith Urban, International Harvester- Craig Morgan, California- Pat Green, A Feeling Like That- Gary Allan, Rednec Yacht Club- Craig Morgan, Anywhere But Here- Cross Canadian Ragweed, There's No Limit- Deana Carter, Hillbillly Deluxe- Brooks and Dunn, Go Deep- Janet Jackson, Send My Love to the Dancefloor- Cobra Starship, I Wanna Love Somebody Like You- Keith Urban, Mashup-I Just Wanna Rock You ft. Joan Jett and Eve, Mashup- Smack Ma Bit**- Soulja Boy vs. Prodigy, Funky Cold Media- Tone Loc, Park the Pickup (Kiss the Girl)- Chad Brock

I didn't get to work out Wednesday because of a small issue I had to work out and today I have to clean, so at least I am doing "something." Hopefully I can squeeze something in tomorrow before we head to the wrestling tourney. Until then, where's the mop?

Currently listening:Funky Cold MedinaBy Tone LocRelease date: 2007-10-09

Tuned In

2009-01-20T18:05:00.001-08:00

OK, so I am pretty much back on track with working out again. For the most part at this point, I am just walking. I will get back to the gym, but I am waiting for all the Resolutionists to get sick of the gym so I don’t have to fight for a machine or the weights.

Yesterday the kids were off school so Coach Avery held a conditioning practice at the track. The kids each ran somewhere around 2.5-3 miles and did about 45 stadiums. Yes, 45. The bleachers at our track aren’t that big, so 45 it was. I walked and ran during the practice. I am not a runner. I do not enjoy running. I just do it every now and then to boost my heart rate and to see if I can still haul it all around. Yup.

I have also rediscovered my iPod. I love my iPod. I have jacked up ear pods because I allowed both the kids to borrow them on a couple of occasions so now the soft rubber around the part that goes in the ear canal is starting to peel off. Never, will I ever allow the kids to use my ear pods again. Precious little angels.

So, I’ve decided to share my playlists again. I could build workout specific playlists if I cared that much, but I don’t. I just like to set it on shuffle and go with what I get. I skip the slow stuff and play with my heart rate based on what happens to be playing.

Yesterday’s playlist: Holiday(album version)- Madonna, One and Only- Timbaland ft. FallOut Boy, Heart’s Desire-LeeRoy Parnell, I’ll Take That as a Yes- Phil Vassar, Kerosene-Miranda Lambert, I Don’t Wanna be in Love (Dance Floor Version)-Good Charlotte, I Told You So-Keith Urban, Chase the Sun-Shannon Lawson, Good Clean Fun-Montgomery Gentry, Shoop-Salt n Peppa, Like a Prayer-Madonna, Say Anything (Else)-Cartel, Ain’t No Other Man-Christina Aguilera, When I Come Around-Green Day, Cars-Gary Numan, Guitar Town-Steve Earle, I Ran-Flock of Seagulls, Four Minutes-Madonna ft. Justin Timberlake, Can’t Touch This (Superfreak remix)-MC Hammer/Rick James, Just Like Heaven- The Cure, Good Little Girls-Blue County

Today’s playlist: All the Small Things-Blink 182, Lessons Learned-Tracy Lawrence, Lucky Star-Madonna, Amarillo Sky-Jason Aldean, When the Sun Goes Down-Kenny Chesney ft. Uncle Kracker, Desperate Times-Charlie Robison, Run-Pat Green, Where is the Love-Black Eyed Peas ft. Justin Timberlake, I Play Chicken with the Train-Cowboy Troy ft. Big and Rich, Peter Piper-RunDMC, Just Can’t Get Enough-Depeche Mode, Jack and Diane-John Cougar Mellencamp, Wildflower-Deana Carter, Genie in a Bottle-Christina Aguilera, Real Emotions-Los Lonely Boys, So Excited-Janet Jackson ft. Khia, Follow You Down-Gin Blossoms, Fast Cars and Freedom-Rascal Flats, Blues Man-Alan Jackson

More to come… Happy Cardio!

TLB

2009-01-17T16:56:00.000-08:00

Current mood: distractable
Just to sweep my hair to the side and drag a finger along my neck, along that spot that gives me chillls.
To nestle in for slumber tucking a hand under my hip and resting a forearm across me to radiate warmth over our children's first home.
When my mind is tangled up, occupied in its own tentacles, that slap on my backside that catches me off guard.
The self drape leaning on my side with an arm across my thigh and an ice cold longneck chilling my knee.
The pinkie linked with mine on the seat console in the truck during a short or not so short trip.
The snug against my back and the arms which fit perfectly around my waist, hands clasped gently in front of me, made just for me and no one else.
The certain hand squeeze conveying a message no one else will understand.
The stroke of a thumb across a closed lid..
And I. Thinking of nothing else.

Currently listening:Everytime You Touch MeBy MobyRelease date: 2003-03-03

Listingly

2009-01-13T11:33:00.000-08:00

Current mood: listless
I love making lists. Should come as no shock to those of you who know me well. Somehow, when things get crazy, list-making helps me make sense of it all. Not a lot of sense and a wealth of crazy in my life have driven me to my steno-pads...

My newest list follows:

1. I want to continue working out and not drop it like I did last year when I was working out at least six times a week. I have to make time for this. I have to make sure I do it. I feel better, I look better and at some point, I will live in the same state as my husband and he deserves me looking and feeling better.

2. I want to live in the same state as my husband. Sooner as opposed to later. My short-term goal is to be there by the seventeenth anniversary- February 22. And not for a visit.

3. I want to sell this freaking house. There is nothing wrong with it. I am willing to wheel and deal. I want it gone. This is what is keeping me from number two, and maybe even a little bit of a contributary factor in number one. It is hard to work out with a vacuum cleaner in one hand and a toilet brush in the other. I am sure some have mastered that art, but I ain't one of 'em.

4. I want to not go sit at wrestling all night. Every night. Yes, that's right, I said every night. Coach has been a little disappointed in the team's performance post-Chirstmas and has decided that the every day practices the kids had during the break were what made them do so well at the first tourney or two. Now, we are back at every day.

5. I want to be warm in the Combatives gym, where I will now be spending every weeknight. That is one cold place.

6. I want a bigger tax refund than I think we are going to get. It would be extremely helpful to have large amounts of cash in the coming months, for more than the obvious reasons.

7. I want to wake up next to Travis again. Every day. Sure, going to sleep with him at night has its perks too, but waking up with him is the proverbial icing on the cake. And, that says a lot since he IS a morning person and I am most certainly not.

8. I want someone else to clean this freakin' house which I don't want any more. Yes, the kids help me, but I am the one who does the vast majority of the things that keep it up and running and smelling nice and yummy. Oh, and I don't want to pay that someone else, unless I get that ginormous tax refund I am dreaming about.

9. I want my Realtor to prove to me that she is worth the money she might make off us. March 12 is the day the contract expires and trust me, if I haven't moved yet, there's gonna be some fireworks on March 12. FIREWORKS, I TELL YOU! Stay posted.

10. I want someone to buy this house. I know I already put that on this list, but that will help cure all the other ills I am experiencing. How much lower do I need to drop the price? It is 48 dang dollars a square foot. Seriously, homes are selling now (albeit slowly) and they are mostly going for more than $60-65 a foot. Even the bank foreclosures with no stove and stripped of all the fixtures are still pulling $60 a foot. I have a bid dang house. I have a cheap house. Anyone want a big cheap house? Closing costs? Sure. Carpet allowance? You bet, just buy the thing!

11. I don't want to take La Princessa to Physical Therapy any more. Blog to follow on that, but jeesh, enough already!

12. I want a haircut. I want to go visit Beth and get a tricked-out kick-ass haircut. I have to budget that in. Maybe when the tax refund comes?

13. I also want a pedicure. Sure, "Touch" does a nice enough job, but I want the deluxe pedi. You know the one where you propose marriage to the chick who does your pedi because you feel so awesome? Yeah, that one. Ding, ding-tax refund.

14. I want to not have two houses any more so I can get my hair and feeties done when I want and not when taxes come.

15. I want this killer dress I saw at the mall today. It is so made for my body-type and is the perfect blend of lady and ho and I really want it.

16. I also want these shoes they had at the new shoe store in the mall. They, too, are right up the alley I mentioned in number 15 and, they go with the dress perfectly. Yup, taxes.

17. I want to wear that dress and those shoes when I drive up to our new home in South Carolina after selling this stupid house and getting our tax refund when I kiss my husband as a resident of South Carolina for the first time.

18. Then I want to go to sleep in my new state and wake up the next morning next to Travis.

Currently listening:Set ListBy The FramesRelease date: 2004-02-24

Bronze and Silver City

2009-01-06T21:30:00.000-08:00

Current mood: pissed off

Sunday could very possibly have been one of the longest days of my life. I knew it would be because wrestling tourneys are famously tedious and drawn out and if the club running the show is even remotely disorganized, you're in for a mammoth case of bleacher butt by the time you leave.

What you may not know is that Amanda decided she wanted to wrestle this year. Yes, my classically trained violinist cheerleading little red-headed girl wanted to wrestle. Reluctantly, I agreed. The kids wrestle for Team Bliss and in this league, girls have to wrestle boys. Jeeze, just what you want, some dude tossing your daughter around. I bit my tongue and let her do it. Our decision to allow her was not so much because I am a feminist (because I am most certainly NOT), but more because we have always told both the kids that they were capable of doing anything they wanted to. What idiots we were.

So, she and Nolan both started workouts as soon as Nolan's football season was over. Last year, Nolan didn't have a single win on the mats. He hated practice. He hated conditioning. He hated matches. He hated losing. And then, true to Bubba form, as soon as the season was over, he missed it. He missed his coaches and he wanted to wrestle more. When the season came around again this year, he had a cow over when I was going to sign him up and then she chimed in.

Our first match was the first weekend of December and our team was the host. Nolan went out and lost both his matches. He was royally pissed. Tears, running snot, huff and puff- the whole nine yards. What made it worse was that his little big sister (he's 5'4" and she's 5'2") won a gold because she was the only wrestler in her division and class. That was also the day we had her belated birthday party.

The next match was the following weekend at Ysleta High, hosted by the Texas Tribe. Nolan went out and kicked butt! He was amazing and scored his first two wins on the mat ever. One of the kids he beat was coached by his coaches from last year. The other was a boy from the Tribe. His third match was against another boy from Team Fox (last year's coaches) and that boy beat Nolan, although Nolan did hang in there for a full three rounds. I was so incredibly proud of him because doing that is very hard. And, for a heavyweight, it is even harder. After that loss, he was due to place second but was challenged by a boy who had beat him the week before. Nolan's challenge round came right after his loss so he was pooped, but he did his best and was pinned in the second round. He took third, which broke his heart. Amanda only wrestled twice and it was the same kid both times. She wrestled up and that boy wrestled down because neither of them had anyone else in their brackets. Basically, the boy was a good foot taller than her and had her by somewhere between 20 and 30 pounds. He put her in a headlock and took her on a death spin in both rounds and pinned her relatively quickly. She didn't seem to mind. In fact, she walked off the mat, yanked off her headgear and told me, "Mom! He was hawt!" Jeeze. Just what I needed to hear. Nolan needed some Momma therapy during the drive home, and he was fine by the time we got here.

Our next match was the Sun City Nationals hosted by the Eastside Wildcats. That is a massive tourney and kids come from as far as Arizona and even further. He did very well. He won, he lost and he lost again, to Greg from Team Fox. He took fourth in his bracket and he was happy with his placing. Amanda didn't make the tourney because she had her Christmas performance with the El Paso Youth Symphony.

We took the week after Christmas off (along with everyone else in the city) and then Sunday was the Silver City meet. Because we lowered the price on the house just before we headed out for what seemed like all time and eternity, I wanted to make sure the house looked great. Amanda and I stayed up late Saturday cleaning and I went to bed sometime around 1:30 in the morning. By the time I went to sleep I had passed the tired/awake continuum and lay in the bed awake until well after 2:30 afraid I wouldn't hear the alarm ring at 3:20 so I could clean a little more and get our bag ready with changes of clothes and food and activities for the day. We left the house at five after five and got to the bus on-post at 5:30 for the three hour drive to Silver City.

When we got there, we got set up with the other families from our team and camped out our spot in the bleachers. The tots and division 1 went first, then divisions two and four, and around 3:30 divisions three (Nolan) and five (Amanda) started. Nolan got out on the mat and won his first match. There weren't many kids there, so divisions were combined and some kids wrestled in more than one division. That's what happened with Nolan's bracket and his second match was against Geno, a boy from our team. He's been wrestling practically since he was potty trained and his dad is one of our coaches. Coach Brandon decided to sit out coaching Geno for the match and just watch. Nolan did pretty well, but then he outweighs Geno by a pretty good bit. Geno got him in a headlock-type-thingy and when Nolan felt the compression on his neck, he started gasping and tapping out. The very stupid ref didn't pay attention to Nolan so he kept tapping until finally the ref had no choice but to call the match. Geno got the gold and Nolan took silver and he was happy with that.

The problems actually came from Amanda's mat. There were only two people in her bracket at the start of the day. None of us went back to check her bracket throughout the day and we all just assumed that she would wrestle the same boy, Francisco two or three times. As the day wore on, a boy entered the gym who was so obviously out to intimidate everyone there. He was different from the other kids there. Generally, the mood at a meet like this one is pretty chill until certain kids take the mat and their cheering section goes off. That's normal. And, once the kid is done, his c.s. goes back to their section and starts to eat their nachos again.

So, there's Mr. UFC. That's right, as in Ultimate Fighting Championship. He had on his long socks and shorts (prolly one of the stupider looks to ever grace fashion), his fat-brim hat with all the idiot markings and a TapOut hoodie with his name emblazoned across his shoulders and MMA Fighter at the bottom. He had facial piercings and no social graces. Truly.

Eventually, we figured out (because one of us critical thinking masterminds went to the brackets to see what was up) that he was wrestling my little princess. Sheesh. He wasn't in the bracket at the start of the day or the middle of the day or the later part of the day, until right before he actually had to wrestle Amanda. Francisco was her first opponenet. She hung in for a little over a minute until he eventually pinned her. She did pretty well. By that point, Coach Brandon was about to blow a gasket the way only an Infantry Sergeant Major can. He was pissed with a capital SS. His other son, Jerry, wanted Amanda to forfeit, but she said she would be embarassed to forfeit so she made the choice to get out there. I'd have had a heart attack before I even set foot on the mat, but not her. Then after a couple more matches, Mr. UFC went out on the mat for the showdown. You could tell by watching him he wasn't there to wrestle clean. He was there to hurt someone. That's what he wanted. So, he punched himself in the face a few times a la Captain Caveman, jumped around a la Jane Fonda and did his best Baloo impression in circles around the mat. Yes, seriously.

They shook hands. The ref signaled the start and he went at her. I'm not going into all of it because my blood pressure can't take it, but he actually picked her up and launched her out of the ring. Yes, seriously, launched her. I never knew she could fly, but she coulda shown Mary Poppins a thing or two after that. The ref re-set them and started the match again and eventually he got her in a death grip and pinned her. The problem with it all is the smirk he wore. I am not sure if the smirk was because he was stunned he was wrestling this cute little thing, because he was shocked he had to actually (gasp) wrestle a girl, or because he just didn't take her seriously. Truth- it was likely some combo of the three. But, he went out there way ugly and that didn't change. After he cleaned her clock and the bout was over, she went to his coaches' corner to shake hands with them and he walked around for a bit revelling in his own glory. Ass-wipe. So, then it dawned on him that this sport does actually foster sportsmanlike conduct and he shuffled over to homeboy our coaches.

And then, the enemy of her enemy became our friend. So, we partied on over to the mat to catch Francisco take on Mr. UFC. Somehow his whole demeanor changed on that mat. He was nowhere near as obnoxious as he had been when on the mat with my kid. He locked up with Cisco (I think that's what his mom called him) for a long time and never would shoot on him. It took quite a while but they eventually hit the mat and started to grapple, but it became clear that although inexperienced, our homie, Mr. UFC, was just so over-aggressive that he was going to win. Jackass. Amanda took the bronze in her bracket. Overall, I think she was satisfied but she was pissed too.

What really stuck me wrong was the way his friends were talking about Amanda on the edge of the mat. Whether they knew I was her mother or not, they should have really not made sexual references to a wrestler, a lady, a competetor. Ever. But, they did. They also joked that she was a girl out there. Well, no shit, Einstein. What was your first clue? The boobies? So, these knuckle-draggers left that day patting Mr. UFC on the back, feeling like champions themselves. I got home and surfed YouTube to see if the video they took had hit the 'Net yet. Nope, but I'll look again.

Yes, she can do anything. She went out there, knowing what she was up against. He out-weighed her, he was stronger, and assholier, and she still wrestled him. She wrestled clean. She went longer than you thought she would in the round. She even flew. Tweet. Tweet.

So, we got back on the bus and had dinner in Silver City with the members of the team and their families who were also riding the team bus that day. We had a good time, ponied back up and headed down the mountain. We got home some time around 10:30 and although I would have liked nothing better than to have crashed when we got here, once again the time/awake continuum had taken hold and I drifted off in my beddy-bye around 1:00.

Saturday we wrestle in Deming. I'm not sure if we are taking the bus. But, we'll be there one way or another. And hopefully I'll be better rested. But, tired or not, my kids are learning about wrestling clean and living right. So take that and poke a hole in your face with it Mr. UFC!

Currently listening : Tap Out By Aggressive Dogs Release date: 2001-09-12

And We're Waiting

2009-01-03T12:20:00.000-08:00

Current mood: bummed

Travis came home for Christmas.

Travis left yesterday to go back to South Carolina so he could maybe be back in time to help his NCOs give the little baby Soldiers their pee-pee tests. He might be back in time, but there's serious fog in Alabama and oodles of wrecks because of it.

Today sucks. We have to clean because that is pretty much all we do when I can pry the remote out of La Princessa's hand and change the channel from VH-1 or MTV.

I lowered the asking price on the house again. I can't believe it myself. $114,900. Mainly, this is out of desperation. Travis' visit brought about a bit of an epiphany of sorts. This weekend marks ten months since he and I went to South Carolina to set him up there. Ten months. 10 twelfths of a year. 83.33% of a year-yes, I bothered to actually do the math. Now, I am an Army wife. I can do geographical separations. I do OK. Don't lose my mind, don't screw around, still manage to operate a vacuum cleaner on a regular basis, remember to wash my face, don't over-spend to much, and the whole bit. That pretty much makes me an exemplary Army wife. February marks our 17th anniversary and of those 17, we've spent seven or eight together. I am not complaining (about that), and the way things are looking, we wont be spending 17 together either (about that, I am complaining!).

I've done what I could to ensure that the house is show/sale-ready. Most of the time it is clean, unless we are having those days where we are all tapped out of energy and just can't stand the idea of wearing anything but jammies all day. We don't do that often, and it isn't because we don't need it. The one time the kids and I did it, someone wanted to see the house. While Travis was here, the Saturday after Christmas, we were all doing a lazy day when the phone rang and a Realtor was on the other end. While I was talking to her, the other line beeped and it was another Realtor wanting to show the house. Both wanted to see it at the same time. We flew into crazy-clean mode and had an hour to scour and vacuum and all that. We made it in time. The first lady really liked it, but she is moving slowly on her decision. The second group wouldn't even get out of the car and blamed that on the neighborhood. Whatever. Come to find out, they were clients of my Realtor a year ago. They found a house they wanted in North Hills (translation-overpriced area) and made an offer. The owner's asking price was $149,900 and their offer was $120,000. Needless to say, they didn't get that house. Apparently they were total pains in the nalgas. Now, I am glad they wouldn't stop the car. Keep on drivin'.

While Travis was here we did talk about all this crap. And money. And our lives. He's just under three years until his retirement. He says he will get out if the Army doesn't promote him, and will stay as long as he continues to make promotions when he is eligible. I'm OK with that. That is his decision and he is the only one who can make the right choices for himself. When it came down to our geographical situation, I broke down. See, being here sucks. Travis is living our lives without us there. We are living the same way here without him. He told me the decisons with the house have to be mine. That is NOT what I wanted to hear. I do not want the responsibility. I want this to work out the way we thought it was supposed to. Anyway, not gonna happen.

Sooo, he gave me my options: A) continue on the same path and wait the average 280-300 days houses are lasting on our market which would put us out of here sometime in July/August. B) lower the price and continue to do so until we sell, even though we are risking the bottom line. We have a decent amount of equity to play with, but the goal is to retain as much of that as possible. C) lower the price to only cover what we owe plus our share of closing and walk away breaking even (OUCH). D) refinance (again) to lower our payments and rent the stupid house.
I made the choice yesterday to lower the price again. So, we've gone from $129,900 ($54 a sq/ft) to $120,000 ($50 a sq/ft) to $114,900 ($48 a sq/ft). I am just in shock that the phone has not rung today with a 2400 sq/ft house listed at $48 per ft. Shock, I tell you. Even in a depressed economy, there are homes moving, so why not mine? It is clean (we've had that discussion), it is big, it is cheap, it is all but ready to go, we can close in thirty days (actually, two weeks if need be), and I am willing to assist with closing. What's the freaking problem?

I've been on CraigsList checking out rentals in Columbia. That just makes me want to move even more. I found a 2800 sq/ft, 5 bedroom, 3 bath for under $1000. Yes, seriously. It is about 25 minutes from post and with what we would be saving in rent, we could afford the extra gas money. Plus, BAH (housing money) is going up in the area. We would be making a financial killing.

I decided to do the Total Money Makeover by Ramsey (or is it Ramsay?). I am ready to start snowballing our debt. But, the program will not let me proceed because I need a thousand dollars in a savings account before I can move forward. That would have been no problem a year ago. Today- problem. So, I have a very small percentage of that thousand in my purse waiting for me to put it in an envelope and add to it so I can open a money market account or something like it. Hmph. I am tired of debt and am looking forward to having a full bank account once again. Paying two sets of household bills sucks big time.

So, Travis is on I-20 now. He can make the 24 hour drive without stopping because he is insane. He texted me this morning and told me he actually did stop and sleep for a couple of hours. He did so because he thought he had used up his luck card. When I asked him to explain he told me that in the middle of the night a semi had come across the median right in front of him and toward him at full-speed. Somehow the truck saved it and recovered and Travis slipped by unscathed. Luck, God, skill? I don't know, but I am relieved. My estimation is that he will be in Columbia very soon.

I need to be there. It is no longer a want. I must be there with him.

Currently listening : Missing You/For Your Love By John Waite

Wrap Rap

2008-12-17T10:50:00.001-08:00

Current mood: Wrapped up

That time has come. We must make our Christmas presents pretty for under the tree. Have I mentioned before that sometimes I really hate wrapping? Sometimes I think it is very fun. Other times I develop PTSD.

When I was about my daughter's age, 15, my mother was working full-time and hated having to wrap gifts. So, she came up with a solution. I was very good at wrapping gifts. I was great at wrapping gifts AND I liked doing it. I was pretty anal about how they were to look and how they would be placed and one year, I wrapped everything under the tree which was being given from someone in our house to someone in our house. Yes, even my own stuff- the stuff being given to me. She would secure it in a box and then I would wrap the box. I wrapped a lotta crap. And, the tradition continued for about three years or so, as best I remember.

I was young. I had fun. I enjoyed it. I was stupid.

So now, here I sit at home, procrastinating the baking I need to do for the kids' activities, procrastinating the presents I really need to wrap. I did about six or seven yesterday. Sure, that's not that much, but I am sick of it already.

Just. Don't. Want. To. Wrap.

Last year, I devised a plan to throw off the snoops. I drew a shape on the bottom of each gift which designated who would be receiving said gift. I thought I was clever, until several of the gifts were unwrapped in some fashion. I about blew my top, but they're kids and that's what they do.

This year, I think we are snoop proof. First, no gift is being wrapped in its true form. It is being boxed. No matter what, no matter how simple the container containing the gift, it will be contained yet again in another box to disguise the orginal packaging. Some of those items, prior to being contained in containers, are being wrapped in newspaper first and sealed with box tape. Yes, I said it, box tape and newspaper. It makes for ugly fingerprints, but ain't nobody knowing what they gettin' til they get. Once contained in different containers, they are being sealed with box tape. I went through almost a roll on the seven I did yesterday. Snoop now, Snoopy McSnoopersons!

The final step is the wrapping paper. They are being wrapped just as any other traditional present would be wrapped in commercial wrapping paper from the store. Some is new, some is old and they are coded. They are not marked, there are no name tags, but they are marked and I dare them to decode my system! They tried really hard yesterday when they came home from school. They failed and failed miserably! They tried everything- animals for one, trees for the other, shapes, bow color, shiny vs. matte finish bows, two-tone bows, living things, non-living things, box shape, box size. Haha! They don't know.

Oh, I also threw in this little tidbit- any package with damaged wrapping paper from the Snooptastics will be unwrapped and returned to the store for a full cash refund and the refunded cash will be used by me on me and no one else. It will be a charitable contribution to the Me Fund. I like it, don't you?

So, let's see if this works. I will not eventually be posting the code I used. I may need to recycle
it for future years.

Currently listening : Under Wraps By Jethro Tull Release date: 2005-04-26

What the?

2008-12-16T10:49:00.000-08:00

Current mood: confused

I headed out this morning on errands. You know, the usual stuff- bill paying, stuff to use while making holiday goodies for every class my kids ever had, getting gas, the quest for Skinny Christmas fabulosity (thanks, Kimora). I took the kids to school, Andre too, went to the bank to deposit a check, ran to the gas station for a quick drop of gas to do me until I got to post (where gas is .03 cheaper than anywhere else in town, .06 if you use your Star card), popped my debit card in, pulled it out, entered my PIN, got $4 worth and headed to the far east side. I got done there, went to the central area, got done there, hit post, got gas with the Star card, made one more stop and then went to WalMart.

At WalMart I just needed a few things. I had three gift cards in my wallet, each with a few cents on them. I think their collective total was somewhere around $2.20. So, I only needed to put about $9.00 or so on my debit card. When I got to the cashier and started digging in my purse for it, I couldn't find it. Yes, it has a place to live in my wallet, but when I am in go-mode, I just go and worry about precision later.

Stupid move.

I took almost everything out of my purse and eventually gave the dude a check. I haven't written a check in a store for around two or three years, but I had to today. I kept looking as I left the store and tore the truck apart looking for the stupid thing. No luck. I didn't find it anywhere.

I called the bank on the way home to cancel it and order a new one, but this is a heck of a week to be without a debit card. Grr. Jeeze man, could I be more stupid? The lady at the bank I spoke with was very nice about the whole thing and went through what I had spent this morning to ensure that there were no fraudulent charges, but CRAP! I hate when stuff like this happens.
Now I am at home sulking and making dog food.

CRAP!!!

Currently listening : Lost in the Sound of Separation By Underoath Release date: 2008-09-02

Blah-dee-blah blah!

2008-12-15T20:52:00.001-08:00

Current mood: blah

Busy, busy, busy!

Yes, Christmas is next week and the kids are driving me absolutely insane about it. We are having Christmas, but as I keep reminding them, this will be a skinny Christmas. We just can't do it in the same grand fashion as has been our tradition since forever. Skinny or not, I think they'll be at least part-way satisfied.

Yes, still no buyer. I went to transportation this morning for the briefing and they put our move on "hold" status. Great. Just like everything else from marital relations to selling the house to everyfargingthing, "hold." I am sure it could be worse, so no need to remind me. Blessings do abound, but I am blogging (i.e.-venting), so I get it out and then I move on. Or at least that's the plan. I will add, however, that I am just about ready to start acosting peeps at the grocery store asking them, "Do you want to buy a big, cheap house?" Surely, someone somewhere wants to buy a big, cheap house.

It seems that the teenaged drama has faded a bit. Taking the bull, or some other entity of your choosing, by the horns has been effective. Well, at least for now it has been. I'll keep you posted.

Travis will be here by this time next week. He is leaving SC Saturday morning. He is driving straight through. He said he doesn't want to stop at a hotel. He's just going to take breaks at rest stops and nap if he needs it. I hope he stops and naps. Dear Lord, please make him stop and nap. Please. Amen.

I have been in a non-Christmas mood. I am not even sure we should put out our gifts, since there is always a possibility that someone could stop by to see the house. No, not a probability, but an absolute possibility. The experts (yes, the ones who told us to wait until fall to list our house) say that we shouldn't leave any valuables out. Do Christmas gifts count? How bad will it suck for my kids to see nothing under the tree until Christmas. Depressing, if you ask me. Whatcha think?

So, along those lines, how do we keep the Snooptastics from snooping? Last year there were a large number of presents which had been unwrapped and clumsily (and crappily) re-wrapped, if they even bothered to cover the snoopage up. I've grown quite accustomed to the newest reply in my house, "I don't know. It wasn't me." I really hate that phrase. This year, I have a couple of new techniques. I will not list them here as news tends to travel fast. However, one could depend on the use of shipping tape and sealed seams, among other things. I love a challenge. I will be triumphant. If not, no gifts go out until Christmas morning. Still, depressing, wouldn't you agree?

I am sitting here in my room quietly sneaking Pepperidge Farms cookies while one of the kids is sleeping (or at least he better be faking it real, real good) and the other is watching TV. I never used to use the TV as a babysitter when the kids were little, but now that they're older, I just turn it on and they leave me alone for a while. Until they get hungry or have some tragic dilema I have to solve. Pepperidge Farms makes cookies just for me (you knew that, right?). I got lucky, they didn't hear me unwrapping the celophane from the inner box. Normally celophane crinkling is to my kids as the triangle bell clanging is to cowboys needing chow. Ms. Austin, Mrs. Bryan, Mrs. Wheatley and Mr. Krznarich taught me how to use similies correctly. Thanks gang!

So, I am sleepy, but not sleepy enough to go to bed. I am thirsty, but there is no ice in the house right now and the thought of drinking something which is not frosty cold is ick-nasty to me. So, I guess I am not thirsty enough to either drink it warm or go get ice. I am cold, but not cold enough to turn up the heater (because that would mean I would need to turn down my finances next month). I am cranky. I am nervous. I am stressed. I am eating cookies quietly in my room. I don't have any clean jeans for tomorrow.

Hmph. I guess I'll just go play Mafia Wars.

Currently listening : Sesame Street - Cookie Monster's Best Bites Release date: 2004-01-27

Miscellaneousosity

2008-12-09T16:05:00.000-08:00

Current mood: lazy

It snowed today. Well, it was a snow/ice/rain mix, but it snowed nonetheless. It was cold and blustery and damp and brrr! and it made me not want to do anyfrigginthing except lay under the covers. I only did that for about a half an hour. I forced myself to be a member of the living, sorta. I wanted a fire in the fireplace, but that would mean I would have to have some firewood, which I have purposely not purchased to this point, and I would have to not be in my bedroom, which I have come to flipping love. Ultimately, the fire wasn't worth either effort.

I am planning the menu for the next three days. Cody and Cindy are coming and bringing the babies. I am excited! He has a race in Alamogordo Saturday so they are coming early to visit us. I am looking forward to their being here, but have no idea how I should entertain them.

Travis is at Ft. Lee for his Platoon Sergeant course. I think he blew out his shoulder. Apparently it is a pretty common injury amongst the Soldierly types. Great. So, Kelly's husband just had a shoulder surgery in Qatar, while deployed (nope, didn't send him home). Travis' former First Sergeant had a shoulder surgery a while back. I have no idea if they had the same procedure. Big Tommy was convalescing for a couple of weeks, maybe? I don't know how long Mark took off. I know better than to hope, but it would be grand if they would send him here to have surgery and convalesce... Nope, not even gonna hope for it. He'll be home in a little over two weeks and that is going to have to be enough.

The house is still on the market. I could lament. I will not. I have a Transportation briefing Monday. Technically (because the convoluted Army system required it) I have pack-out dates of the 22nd and 23rd and pick-up on the 26th. If I schedule them too far out, then we can't move the dates up. But, we can always call and delay the stuff, so delay we will! However, there is an Army family interested in seeing the house and looking for a fast close once they get the ball rolling. There's more to it, but if they wanna close quick, we gonna close quick. I need to get the hell outta here.

The teenaged drama continues. I could go into it, but I wont, at least not too much. At this point. It has gotten even deeper and worse since the last time I spoke of it (really, since I last spoke of it at like, 9 this morning). We are talking stalker-crazy. Seriously. One more and I take it to the school admin. I don't know if she'll read this or not or if she reads at all, or if anyone else does. But, it will stop soon.

Wrestling has begun. Just as I hoped it wouldn't be, it is. Amanda didn't wrestle on Saturday becuase there was no one in her division and class so she scored an automatic win, medal and all. Nolan's bracket was seriously competetive. He lost both his matches and it sucked for him. As much as I am trying to teach them about being good winners, I am having to teach them about being good losers too. Sometimes gracious doesn't happen all that easily with either outcome. It was an odd drive home.

The 15th birthday party was Saturday night. It was a bumpy start, thanks to wrestling. That's a long story, but suffice it to say that I have good friends. Good enough to come sit at my house and welcome teenagers in when I am not yet home. Thank you. The kids were awesome AND I had enough food and drink and no one was hungry or cranky and as every mother can tell you, not hungry kids makes for not cranky kids so it was a great start to a fun night. Low key, enjoyable for all, including the little brother, with very little pouting on the big sister front. Yay us!

Amanda saw a doc last week for her wrist pain. Doc is worried about ligament damage and the possibility of nerve damage. Joy. Ice, brace, wrapping and physical therapy to start soon. The repetetive motion and position of violin, coupled with basing for cheer (holding the foot of a flyer [the girls who get lifted up]), coupled with the strain of wrestling may be making things worse. Maybe that isn't coupled. Is it tripled? Doc mentioned to her that it might be time to make choices about which activities she could pursue into adulthood and which she might not be able to, and the possibility that the decision may have to come quite soon. She didn't cry, but I think she wanted to. I did a little for her after I dropped her back at school. The physical therapist called today and I am to call back tomorrow to schedule.

I want to move. I want to go as soon as I can. It is SO time to go. It is time to move on and start fresh and have my family together again. I am not complaining. I am stating a fact. Gotta go and go soon. Listlessness and apathy are setting in.

Kitchen is calling with her dirty dishes and unswept floor. I tired and it cold outside. I want me sweats and fuzzy socks and to watch my favorite TV shows all night on the 'puter.

Not gonna happen, my friends, but I can dream...

Currently listening:MopeBy The Bloodhound GangRelease date: 2000-09-05

Say It or Shut Up

2008-12-08T22:06:00.000-08:00

Current mood: apathetic

Interesting the way things work. No matter what I've gone through, human nature still astounds me constantly. That is both good and bad and that's just that.

So, I don't want to get specific. I never know who reads this and who doesn't and I don't want to make some of my peeps uncomfortable. So, I'll be cryptic and vague and beat around the bush and everyone will think me wack and that's just fine and I don't so much care.

A while back I had a life issue which took a bunch of steam and focus to get through. From an entity, from whom I should have heard, I heard nothing. Just the usual crickets and coyote howls. Lucky for me I had plenty of settlers willing to circle the wagons. I got through. We got through. I and we are all stronger now. Yay us.

Now, that entity has contacted me. They seek from me wisdom gleaned during my life issue. Can I help the entity? Hmm, maybe. Then again, maybe not. I don't know. Honestly, I don't. But, this particular issue is of no great mystery on the grand scale. There's bunches of stuff to learn and it is easy to find. So, why me?

Pardon my cynicism, but I've been down this road with the entity before. There are still scars on my ass from getting burned. I sometimes wonder if the entity thinks I am like Windows and that I can be reset to a particular restore point without my knowledge, so I can be used/abused/left for dead until the next time the entity finds use for me.

Well, I overrode the system. I made clear to the Governess (and also HeMan) that a crap I did not give. The Governess agreed that it was the best possible route to take. HeMan told me to keep it to myself. From Yoda, have I learned to myself protect. Protect I shall.

I haven't the energy. I haven't the will to force myself to be nice. And, its truly taken me a lifetime to get to this point, but frankly, I just don't shive a git any farging more.
I, too, have a life. Regardless of whether the entity chooses to acknowledge my life and my shizzle with which I cope and deal and muddle through on a daily basis, life and shizzle continue and I do too. I ain't got the time to write up a dissertation for someone who has no use for me until they find a reason to find a use for me. I used to try and I used to want to but those days are over.

Lemme repeat.

Ooooh-vah!

Currently listening:On My OwnBy Crunchy BlackRelease date: 2006-09-19

2008-12-02T21:21:00.000-08:00

Current mood: Kinda sad

I'm not the biggest fan of gingerbread. Sometimes the flavor is just too overwhelming for me. It is ok if you like it. Sometimes I do too.

After being sick like crazy all last week, and desperately trying to recover now, I'm needing comfort. I've actually taken to baking practically every other night lately. I guess I am trying to compensate. We better sell this house soon or my ass is gonna be HUGE!

Last week I stayed busy baking-before the sick part. Almost all of it was orders I took for Thanksgiving. No, I did not make much money, although I should have because my baked goods were fabulous and beautiful. That helped keep me busy.

Tonight was for me and the kids' breakfast. Of course, I sampled. I also had to substitute a few things because this was not a planned baking event. I made notations.

APPLE GINGERBREAD MUFFINS

2 cups all purpose flour
1/4 cup packed brown sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice (I had none, so I added 1/8 pumpkin pie spice and 1/8 ground cloves- worked just fine!)
1/2 cup mild molasses (had none, used dark corn syrup- worked fine!)
1/4 cup milk
4 tablespoons butter or margarine, melted (just use the butter, it tastes better)
1 large egg
2 medium Golden Delicious or Rome apples peeled and finely chopped (about 2 cups, I only had Granny Smith and they were awesome! I love that they retained some of their crunch even though they were chopped so small)
1/3 cup walnuts, chopped (had pecans)

Preheat oven to 400 and grease 12 muffin cups. In a large bowl, combine flour, brown sugar, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger, salt and allspice. In small bowl, beat together with a fork, molasses, milk, butter, and egg until blended. Add molasses mixture to flour mixture and stir just until flour is moistened (batter will remain lumpy). Gently stir in apples and nuts. Spoon into muffin cups and bake until toothpick inserted comes out clean- about 25 minutes. Remove immediately and serve warm.

Happy fall!

Currently listening : Peanuts: A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving Release date:

Ironman

2008-11-23T20:48:00.001-08:00

He made it! 14:36!!!

Grit

2008-11-23T17:03:00.000-08:00

Current mood: Joyful

This morning, in Tempe, Arizona, gazillions (I guess) of athletes converged for the running of the Ironman Arizona. This is a full Iron-distance triathlon. 2.5 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mile run. Yes, all of that. And, here's the catch- the race starts at 7 am (for age groupers) and must be completed by midnight.

Cody Hanson, my nephew, has been chasing his Ironman dreams for five and a half years. When he began following triathlon, he weighed in somewhere around 300 pounds. Yes, he's a big guy. He's a corrections officer at the New Mexico State Pen in Santa Fe. He's worked with the worst our world has to offer and yet somehow, he is a light-hearted, fun, childlike, man's man. He played football. He is a martial arts expert. He's wrestled. He was on the SWAT team. So, umm, yeah, he's done a lot. He's also competed in two other Ironman races. He was unable to meet the time requirements set up along the route at those races and was pulled from the course (as is the rule when a competetor has not met time standards along the route). Last year, when he raced in Nevada, he was pulled off during the bike portion of the race and was devastated.

The last year has brought tons of transition to him. He began to slim down (way, way down) after his DNF in Nevada. He got as low as 188 pounds. It was around that time when Bob, his step-father (and yet very much, his Dad), died. The loss was awful for him. This was a father who chose him. My sister had health scares and all the while, he continued working, racing and taking care of his wife and his kids. He doesn't weight 188 any more. And I hope he realizes that number isn't near as important to the rest of us as it is to him. I can't imagine what a roller coaster the last twelve months have been for him.

He had high hopes for today. He and Cindy headed out to Arizona, along with some close friends, Thursday. Both Friday and Saturday there were events relating to the race. Last night, they invited my mother to have dinner with them, their friends, and Cody's triathlon coach. Mom said she had a wonderful time with them all. I know it meant the world to Cody too.
I've been tracking him today in between my day's insanity (which I will blog about later). He made it through the swim. He swam two and a half miles. And, after he was finished with that, he changed what clothing he needed to change, hopped on a bike and decided he STILL wanted to ride it for 112 miles. And he made it all the way through the bike course. And when he did, he decided once again, he wanted to do something hard. He wanted, after all that, to put on running shoes and a different pair of socks (because the socks you bike in and the socks you run in are apparently quite different), to resist the urge to take a break, and to run. For 26.2 miles.

He's running now. As I type, he is running. His tracker online says he is in the second segment of the run. I can't check often enough. I keep coming back to the computer every five minutes to track him. He has already completed the 3.5 mile segment. I am in awe.

When he finishes tonight, and I believe he will, he will cross the finish line with hoards of people there clapping and cheering for him. At that moment, all the hooplah will be about him. Because he made it.

I have no aspirations to run even the shortest triathlon. I don't want chapped nipples (sorry, fact of life for runners), I like having my toenails stay on my feet, I do not want to bonk out on a segment, suffer countless hours of training, spend unknown amounts (yes, someone knows, but not me) of cash on equipment and training and supplements and everything else, and I have no desire to cross THAT finish line.

But, from Cody I have learned. Sometimes, there are some things in this world which are worth the pursuit. Pain, injuries, self-doubt and other things of that ilk simply must be overcome.
He could have quit. He could have said, somewhere along the line, "I am done." And absolutely every one of his friends and family (at least those of us who do not race) would have understood. But, for Cody, the elusive became his target.

He took aim again today.

I encourage you to track him with me. www.ironmanlive.com

Click on the "track an athlete" link and then type in the last name Hanson. You will see his times there. He wont mind you visiting him online.

I am very proud of Cody today. I am very proud of Cody every day, but today, even moreso.

I love you, Cody!

Currently listening : Iron Man Release date: 2008

Big Bird and Whorin' Around

2008-11-19T15:56:00.000-08:00

Yes, they do go together. Read on...

We've all, by this point, read about the pothead boy, right? Well, Miss Smarty Pants, aka my daughter, thought she was two things: smart enough to change his ways and smart enough to get away with something she clearly understood she was not supposed to do. And, drumroll please, she got caught and she did not change his ways. He had told her about his use of pot and that it was his first time using it. He also told her he wanted her to be his, a-hem, first. Yup, you read right.

I told her not only was his experience with pot and Chronic likely to have not been his first go 'round with doobage, that there was a very healthy chance that were she to be one of his conquests, it would likely not be his first. Dunno, something just told me so.

Anyway, she decided to go out with him believing she would get away with it. She did not. Therefore, she was grounded for six weeks and she had to break up with him. We told her she could still talk to him at school and be his friend but that she could never spend time with him outside school because it was obvious that the two of them had damaged the parent/child trust code. She did break up with him.

Upon the breakup, her very best pal at school, whom I will not call a mean name, mentioned to Amanda that she liked the pothead. She is also a cheerleader and is in the same French class as Amanda and the pothead. Amanda told her, "Please don't go out with him, that would be hard for me if you did." Guess where this is going- BINGO! She started seeing the boy right after Amanda broke it off with him. They snuck around for a while but Amanda caught on and confronted Pal and told her not to lie in addition to hurting her feelings, just to tell the truth. So, Pal came clean and fessed up. Amanda got over it and remained friends with the boy. They would text and would talk at school, but nothing more. Pal started to freak out telling Amanda she better stay away from him and even going so far as to call Amanda a whore when she mentioned that a different boy was looking at her. She yelled across a courtyard that Amanda was a whore and a bitch. And Amanda forgave. She also told Pal that she had no control over her friendships with other people and she would continue to talk to whomever she chose. Pal continued to be jealous and immature.

About a week, or maybe a little longer, after the two got together, there was a Varsity game at the school the JV squad did not cheer at (the last Friday in Oct. which was not Halloween). Amanda was still grounded from social activities and I told her that she would have to sit with me at the game (because I like going to the games too). She reluctantly agreed, but I wound up sending her and coming later because Nolan had a conflicting football practice. As soon as it was over, we got to the high school. When we got there, things seemed strange but I kept it to myself. The most obvious thing is that Amanda was not with the best friend, Pal. When I asked where she was, Amanda said she didn't know. We had fun anyway, me, Nolan, Amanda and a couple of her other friends who weren't mortified to be seen in my presence.

The following Monday (I found this out last week) Pal told Amanda that she and Pothead had sex at the baseball field during the football game. Even better- unprotected sex. Amanda freaked out on both of them and told him she would slap him if he ever had unprotected sex with her or anyone else again. Then Amanda went on a condom-finding expedition amongst her friends so Pal would have the neccessary supplies. She also hid all of this from me.

Three days after that, Pothead and Amanda were talking and he told her he wanted to break up with Pal because things had changed between them. Amanda said to him, "Yeah, funny how sex changes things, huh?" He agreed and then they split up a couple of days after that.

Then there was a JV game at which the ladies cheered. Pal was distraught and gloomy (as is her normal response when the world is not starstruck by her) during the whole game, and on the verge of tears. Pal's psycho mohter (yes, I knew she was long before this event) went up to the girls as they were leaving the track that night and shook her finger in the faces of the girls and told them, "You all had better figure out what is going on with Pal because I went through all this with her over the summer when Abe broke up with her and I am not going through it again." The girls all kind of looked at each other and went about their business. Again, I was not privvy to the intel.

I guess everything got better for a couple of days, except that Pal was still being bossy to Amanda, telling her she better lay off and not talk to him because she was acting like a whore and he wasn't her boyfriend and didn't want her (remember, Amanda went out with him first) and she would back off if she knew what was good for her. Amanda still talked to him. Pal and she, however, did not remain quite as friendly.

Then, Pal thought she was pregnant. Ah, isn't that fun? And, even though the waters between them were rough at the time, Amanda told her that she would remain her friend and stand by her side if she were. Then she was going to get her a pregnancy test at the nurse's office. Pal chickened out of that one, but still, that is what my kid was willing to do for her.

Pal, after that, then began to continue calling Amanda a whore and a bitch. She said Amanda was fat (which really pisses me off, especially since Twiggy would look fat next to the 5'10" 103 pound Pal). She said she was a crappy cheerleader. She said she was a liar. She said she was a horrible friend and that she was stupid (interesting since Amanda is one of the only six cheerleaders to maintain academic eligibility throughout the semester, but not Pal). She said it all to anyone that would listen. She talked about Amanda behind her back to everyone, including the rest of the cheer team. And Amanda, after those things being said, told her that she would help her all she could if she were pregnant.

Then Pal started, thankfully. She texted Amanda to tell her.

Then, a week and a half ago I started to notice that things weren't right with Amanda. I let it go and figured it was all just teenage angst. Yeah, it was.

So, last Friday I saw that Pal was avoiding Amanda like the plauge. So, I asked what was up and she told me all the sorted details. I had to do some serious work trying to restore her spirit, but she really was fine, without knowing it. She realized that most of the team thought what Pal had said was all crap. Yay, small victory for my kid!

I told her that she needed to take it to the cheer coach because it would affect the team dynamic. So, she did. She was very calm and poised and maintained her emotions quite well and said what she needed to to the coach. I was there and saw it. Then, I told the coach about the sex buisness. Maybe I shouldn't have, but my hands were bound. It was my hope that someone would tell Psycho Mom so she could get her the health services she needed. I wasn't ratting her out. I wasn't tattling. It was all out of concern and there was no way I could tell her mother without her flipping out on me.

Then, I found out that a week ago, at Parent-Teacher night at the school, Pal and Psycho Mom saw the Tomster (the ex-boyfriend who is now like her big brother/best friend) and confronted him. His mother told me this. They demanded to know what Amanda had said about Pal. He told them that she hadn't said anything except that Pal and she were fighting. Then Pal and Psycho Mom told the Tomster that Amanda was only using him for chips (because he always has a bag of chips in his backpack) and gum and that she was a dirty liar and not to be trusted and that he should never believe a thing Amanda says about anyone. Psycho Mom stuck her finger in his face and shook it at him and told him to not be Amanda's friend.

Last night there were basketball games starting at 4. Nolan and I went at about 5:30 and I brought him home at 7:15 to get ready for bed. He can handle that on his own so I ran back up to the school to watch Amanda finish out the night. When we were shuffling back and forth between the two gymnasiums I ran into Pal. I made eye contact with her and said, "Hi." She bowed her head and said it back and practically ran away.

When the girls were cheering their last game, Pal had no idea where I was. I was sitting in the stands right in front of Amanda and Pal. Pal had her new cohort next to her as well and she buddied up to her throughout the game. She was also trying to flirt with every guy there. There were two boys in front of me who were making fun of her. They were calling her Big Bird. They were taking cell phone pictures of my daughter. I was laughing on the inside because in a very sick way, it was incredibly satisfying. When we got home, Amanda told me that Pal was all excited about them looking at her and thought they wanted her. I told her what the boys were doing and she smiled and went to bed.

Some kids will always come out on top.

Egg Free and Loving It

2008-11-18T13:01:00.001-08:00

Current mood: busy

OK, word is there's a cookie exchange in the works. I would host this year, but if you've followed the blog, you know that isn't likely to happen around my place. True to every year, before I even know the date of the cookie exchange, I'm hammering out my recipes.

Today I wanted to make something simple because I got started late and am running low on baking staples like eggs and vanilla. I know Albertson's has some baking items on ad, but not eggs. Two weeks ago they were a dollar a dozen and I didn't stock up. Alas, not an egg in the joint.

I Googled simple cookie recipes and came up with this one.

Simple Shortbread

3/4 cup all purpose flour, sifted
1/4 cup superfine sugar (didn't have any super-fine so I sifted that too)
1/2 cup unsalted butter (good quality), at room temperature
pinch salt (I omitted because I had no sweet butter)

Combine flour and sugar until well blended, then using pastry cutter or two knives, cut butter into dry ingredients until the mixture resembles coarse meal. Turn the dough out onto a floured board and knead until smooth, then cover and refrigerate at least two hours or overnight. Once chilled, divide the dough into four portions for large cookies or eight for smaller cookies and form into rounds. Place the rounds on a baking sheet and press them down with the bottom of a glass to about 1/4 inch thickness, then prick with fork tines. Bake at 350 for 20-30 minutes until lightly browned. Allow the cookies to cool on the cookie sheet.

As you see, this is a small-batch recipe, which is perfect when it is just the kids and I, but I am sure this will double or triple well. Can you imagine how awesome this would be with chocolate drizzled over and sprinkled with some finely chopped walnuts or pecans?

My dough is chilling now and will be baked soon, if it makes it that far. Since it has no eggs, it is safe to eat the raw dough! Woo-hoo!

Currently listening : Talk Is Cheap / Short Stuff By Short Stuff

Purdy Good

2008-11-15T10:10:00.000-08:00

Current mood: cantankerous
OK, since things have been tight lately I decided that instead of buying pizza, I would make it for the kids last night. I had some leftover spaghetti sauce from a month or so ago in the freezer, so that was the base of one. On that I put some sliced red onion, mushrooms, olives and a few spinach leaves. It was good, but the other one was fantastic!

BBQ Chicken Pizza
1 pouch pizza dough mix (it was .44 at WalMart for the store brand)
Your favorite barbeque sauce, about 3/4 cup or so, more or less based on what you like
1 large chicken breast (cooked- I had just boiiled chicken for dog food for the week, so I just grabbed one of those and diced it up)
Shredded sharp cheddar cheese
French fried onions

Prepare and bake the pizza crust for about half the time recommended on the directions (I use a little corn meal under the crust to keep it from sticking and for texture), pull it out and spread with barbeque sauce (try to keep it under a cup because too much sauce will make the crust mushy). Layer on the cubed cooked chicken and top that with cheese. Then top the entire pizza with French fried onions and return to bake until the crust is done.

Overall, chopping, defrosting, mixing the two crusts and everything, we had two awesome pizzas in about a half an hour. My overall cost was way less than $10. No more bought pizza for a while, now that I know how cheap I can make it!

Currently listening : That's Amore: Italian American Favorites By Various Artists Release date: 2008-09-30

Updating

2008-11-12T19:43:00.000-08:00

Current mood: bummed

1) I still own a house, much to my chagrin.

2) I spent somewhere in the neighborhood of $1200 on my truck. Then I went somewhere else to have the alternator done. It did need doing. It also needed a bunch more. It cost me $1205.98.

3) Next week I will return for the rest of the work my truck needs. Part of it ($400) is paid for already. The rest of the work will cost me $1010.

4) My vacuum cleaner broke. The very vacuum my husband repaired when he was home in September.

5) I have a house on the market which needs vacuuming regularly. God bless Kori. I've been driving a mile and half to her house to pick up her vacuum, vacuuming my house, then driving a mile and a half back to drop the vacuum off. Sure, I could buy a new one. That would mean I had some type of cash flow working, here (see s 2 and 3 above).

6) I have lost two of my three contracts in the last three weeks.

7) I figured out to turn on one of my heaters today. I don't like doing stuff like that.

8) I still need to turn on the other heater. I know how to light that one because the guy who put the new heater in a year ago made me learn because, "No woman should not know how to light her own furnace, just in case." I don't like doing stuff like that.

9) I needed to turn off my two coolers today because I turned on one of the heaters. I hate doing stuff like that.

10) I got the dampers for the vents for the coolers, the new cooler covers and the duct tape to secure the covers on the coolers and went outside. I hate doing stuff like I was about to do.

11) I went to grab the ladder. The ladder was gone. Some stupid crack-head stole my freaking ladder. People suck. Keith said he stole it. I should kick Keith's ass some day.

12) The ladder was actually not mine. I bought it for Travis as a flirty gift. Someone stole Travis'/my ladder. If it was Keith, he better hope he can outrun me, just as soon as I figure out where he lives... in Glendale.

13) How sad is it that I bought a ladder as a flirty gift for Travis?

14) The dude who wanted to see the house last weekend never showed. Bummer. My house is still for sale.

15) Someone is supposed to come see the house this weekend. That's good because it will likely still be for sale at that point.

16) My checking account is looking anorexic these days.

17) Travis' place is freezing. Literally, his house is like 55 inside. He could run the heat all day while he is at work for 14-16 hours, but that doesn't seem eco-friendly.

18) It also doesn't seem checkbook friendly.

19) Dr. Erica Hahn is no longer going to be on Grey's, and although I was kinda thrown by the girl on girl action, I was intrigued by the storyline. Bummer.

20) Nolan's closet door broke Sunday. It is dry-rotted inside. It looks like toothpics. It. fell. completely. off.

21) I am just tired.

22) Amanda cut off all her hair again. Even shorter.

23) The school had nothing better to do today, a teacher work day and early release day, than to call me five minutes before the bell rang to tell me my kid stuck an orange seed in some kid's ear and now has a referral and detention for two days.

24) Yes, an orange seed.

25) Stop laughing, a-hole.

Fun, huh?

Currently listening : Lie Low By New Flash Release date: 2002-08-26

Yummylicious

2008-11-10T21:31:00.000-08:00

Current mood: listless

QUICK SWEET CINNAMON BREAD

.. -->-->.. -->QUICK SWEET CINNAMON BREAD-->
2 c. all-purpose flour
1 tbsp. baking powder
1 tsp. salt
1 1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1 c. sugar
2 lg. eggs, beaten
1 c. buttermilk
1/3 c. vegetable oil
2 tsp. vanilla extract
2 tbsp. sugar
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
2 tsp. butter, softened

Combine first 5 ingredients in a mixing bowl. Combine eggs and next 3 ingredients; add to dry ingredients. Beat at medium speed with electric mixer 3 minutes.

Grease bottom of a 9 x 5 x 3 inch loaf pan. Combine 2 tablespoons sugar, cinnamon and butter in a small bowl until crumbly. Spoon evenly over batter and top with remaining batter. Gently swirl batter with a knife to create a marble effect. Bake at 350 degrees for 50 minutes or until a wooden toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Remove from pan and completely cool on wire rack...

Totally yummy. We've had a cold snap lately and nothing says warm like baking. This one is awesome and so easy! Make sure when you make this you put half the batter in the pan and then the crumbled butter mixture and then top that with the rest of the batter. I missed that part, but I did the rest so some of the mix was swirled in the batter. Still, this is just about the easiest, cheapest and best cinnamon bread I've made. Oh, I also didn't have any buttermilk, so I subbed 3/4 cup of sour cream and 1/4 cup skim milk. I sift my dry ingredients and I thouroughly beat all the liquids together before I mixed them into the dry and made sure to mix by hand. Happy baking!

Currently listening : Cinnamon / This Is My Story By Derek

I'm Not Sleeping

2008-11-07T23:43:00.000-08:00

Current mood: drained

I've said that for the last eight months and meant it every time. Tonight I'm not even trying. There's too much stuff on my bed for me to try. I've got the washer and dryer going. The dishwasher is on. There's a sink of dishes in hot water that's too hot for me to put my hands in. My lungs are being burned by the bleach fumes wafting from the bathroom showers. I am light-headed from the Carpet Fresh which I have liberally sprinkled from room to room. I have ass-loads of stuff on the dining room table- packing. I need to fix a spot on the wall in the kids' bathroom with spackle and paint, but I can't- lung burning fumes. Craig Furgeson is on TV right now and I've not lifted my head once, and he's my FAVORITE!!! I've got a laundry room in need of organizing and sweeping. My vacuum cleaner needs to be cleaned out but it is too freaking cold to go outside right now to empty it in the big dumpster. By the way, it is too freaking cold in the house right now too because just like always, El Paso's weather was bee-you-tea-ful and we went to sleep and the next morning Jack Frost completely skipped the nipping at the nose part and just kicked my ass.

Yes, the responsible person with a house on the market would just keep her house in show-order at all times. Whatevah. Kids, dogs, work, stuff, living, all that and more kinda get in the way of spot-checking every fifteen minutes for a stray dust-mite. Plus, news flash, no one's been looking at anything, anywhere.

Now someone is coming tomorrow. I don't know if it is a couple or a single guy, just that at least one of the parties is a guy. I just hope he or they see something in this house the way we did. I don't care if he/they want it to be their forever house. I would be elated if he/they made it their right now house. That's what we did, but right now ended eight months ago and I gotta hit the road soon.

A lot of my friends who read my blog don't believe what I believe, and that's for you to decide. I pretty much adore everyone here and hope the feeling's the same on your end. But I'm going to talk here about stuff you might not agree with and that's for me to decide.

I've really struggled lately moreso than I ever have with trying to hold myself together. Things just don't seem to make sense with me here and Travis there and a long road in between for no other reason than I wanted to give my kid a chance to experience something wonderful. That's it. Sure, there were Realtors with their forecasts (which all failed to come true) which did carry some weight in the decision, but it was for the kid. We've gone through separations before. A lot of them. I've never once complained about that. I've mentioned being lonely. I've mentioned wishing he were here to fix things and the longing I've felt with him not home, but this is just asinine. I can't argue with a deployment or hardship. They just are and that's that. This was a choice I spearheaded. During deployments there are always the FRG gals (which have ALL moved away [jealous, jealous me]) who are going through exactly the same thing as me with the same deployment and all. Right now I have Kori and Kelly, and they do rock. There are others too, and I'm truly glad for all of them meaning something special to me. But, I ache right now like I've never known before.

Financially, we are more than strapped right now. The same thing which has happened to so many others is happening to us. Sure, we knew that we might be overextending ourselves, but we thought we had it. We were in great shape before he left. Two households and a tanking economy have sucked for us. It is hard to be excited about much when you know there is so much looming around you. If things do go our way soon, we'll be in great shape. Hoping, hoping.

It is great to have a plan. I have a plan and a timeline, aren't I lucky? I thought I knew exactly what was going to transpire in my little corner of the world between March and December. Now I know that I am just a moron. I just hope we can get out of here before the Army wont pay to move our house. That would be March.

I just don't have it in me anymore. I've handed it all over before. I've handed it all over now too. I've been handing for a while now. I know God hears all prayers. I've had prayers answered- you know, cancer and all. Truly. And still, I sometimes wonder if God knows I need Him, if He's heard my pleas and seen the tears, and if His plan for me is the same as mine. As long as God's plan has Travis and I with the kids all in one house here in the next little while, I'm good. I know He will work on His own timeline and that things will work out the way He wants them to, so no one has to remind me. I have to remind me. It doesn't do much good for someone else to do that for me. Like most of us, I'm burning up the prayer hotline when things aren't too much going my way. My current situation is no exception. Today I opened an email response from my Craigs List posting on the house. I emailed and then called my Realtor. After I talked to Gina, without even thinking, I hit my knees. Right there in the spare room, as soon as I ended the call, I prayed. I thanked God for the guy that's coming. I told God that I knew He had His plan for us and that I would be patient, as much as I could, until we knew.

God knows that I can't even tie my shoes these days without tearing up a little because running shoes remind me of runners and runners remind me of triathlons which remind me of Travis. I find myself daydreaming about what my life is going to be like when we are all living in one house again. Doing so just makes me feel like I am some stupid teenager with stars in her eyes over some dude from school.

So, God, you know. And that's OK. This is yours now and I will do what I am able. I just can't wait to make him something stupid like spaghetti and fall asleep, drooling, on his leg while we watch a move.

*Dear God, please let me drool on Travis' leg soon. Amen.

Currently listening : Here Without You By 3 Doors Down Release date: 2004-04-13

Quick and Frenzied

2008-11-07T10:22:00.001-08:00

Current mood: frenzied

Even though our home is now listed at just slightly over $50 a square foot, we've only actually had one couple see it. That has had me losing my mind since September 13. Out of desperation, I visited Craigs List and listed the house there. Praise be! A guy wants to see it tomorrow. Praise be! Because it is not today, because Phoenix got sick last night for the first time in forever in her bed and I am washing dog beds like crazy. I have bathed her, brushed her once (she needs it two or three more times), rearranged my entire bedroom and cleaned it (but it still needs more), done umpteen loads of laundry, and am now sufficiently losing my mind in an entirely different manner at this point. Kori has agreed to let me take the pooches to her house tomorrow so they'll have someplace to chill while the house is shown (thanks, Kori). Amanda has been sufficiently warned that any and all free time between getting home and leaving for cheer at the varsity game tonight will be spent in constructive home maintennance and cleaning. The endorphins have arrived. Clean it shall be. Smelling lovely it shall be. Uncluttered it shall be.
Please let this be the buyer.

Currently listening : Cool Bananas: Best of Frenzy By Frenzy Release date: 2004-04-05

Cha-Ching

2008-10-24T10:56:00.000-07:00

Current mood: uncomfortable

Blah, blah, blah, economics, blah, 401k, blah, blah, blah, housing futures, blah, blah, gas prices.

Let me tell you 'bout my vehicles.

Travis took the Durango to SC when he moved. He wanted to keep it so he could transport his tri-bike (his mistress) without exposing it to the elements. I wanted to keep the Durango because it was so much easier for me to take the elderly dog to the vet in it. He won.

When the kids and I went to SC in June, we took the Ford truck and towed a trailer full of our stuff, like some furniture and personal things, to store at Travis' place. When I was driving somewhere in Alabama or Georgia I heard a noise coming from the back end of the truck, but figured it had something to do with towing the trailer. I'd never towed before so I didn't know. The truck still felt like it was handling the same way so I thought I was good.

Yeah, nope! When we got there and dropped the trailer off at the U-Haul, Travis heard the noise and told me he thought it was the rear-end. He decided we would drive back to Texas in the Durango and he would keep the truck. He did Band-Aid services to the truck until September, when he came here. He dropped it at the shop when he was leaving to have the rear-end done. That was $1900. Now he thinks there is soemthing going on with the fuel system. Crap.

Tuesday, the Durango wouldn't start. I have known there was a problem with the ignition system and I had narrowed it down to the starter or the alternator. I at least knew that much. We haven't really had much liquid cash flow these days so I decided to wait and hoped it might last us longer. Nope! So, I had it towed to the shop. When they got the starter off, they saw leaks and rust in the freeze plugs, so those had to be done. $641 later, my truck was going.

Yesterday, as I was leaving to pick the kids up, the truck started very sluggishly, almost as if the starter were going out. I put it in the back of my mind and went on about my business. A short time later, I saw Kelly and stopped to talk to her. While standing outside the high school I saw a leak under my truck. I called the shop and inquired. They told me to bring it in and they would check it whenever it was convenient for me. I went home, got the kids together for football practice, went to practice and had to run an errand when I dropped Nolan off. Then, the truck wouldn't start. Seriously, just like Tuesday.

I called the shop, which was literally two minutes from closing and they sent out the shop owner and a mechanic. They checked it out, gave it a couple of good whacks on the starter, told me the new starter was bad and that they would replace it the next day, free of charge. That would be today.

The truck started just fine this morning and after I got the kids delivered, I dropped the truck off. Kelly picked me up and let me borrow her car again. I ran to WalMart for eggs and bread and came home. I got here, started laundry, made dinner and then the stupid phone rang. It was the shop and I thought they might be telling me the truck was ready. Nope! They told me the starter was on and working well but that the water pump was what was leaking and that it was bad. $297.

Mind you, all of these maladies with the Durango are things Travis is capable of fixing himself, so long as he had the correct tools. And, he does. But, he is seven freaking states away making baby Soldiers cry.

E-FREAKING-NUFF.

Currently listening : Start Me up / No Use Crying By The Rolling Stones

Unhappy Cows

2008-10-22T19:50:00.000-07:00

Current mood: content

I'm just totally confused tonight. I am not going to complain. Well, at least, that is not my intention, so if it happens to happen, I apologize in advance.

While out and about today on my endeavours I had the chance to sit and talk to someone for the better part of 45 minutes. She was a very nice lady. She was a very nice lady who is very different from me. She is from another country (one which is far, far away from my own). She is older than I. She has very young children. She has been married for a few years, and from what I gathered from her she's been married less than half the time I have. I guess I am so surprised because from the little I know of her culture, it was shocking to hear what she had to say.

As we talked we mainly focused on small-talk business. You know the type- polite and pleasant and not neccessarily profound. Eventually we came upon the topic of our move and living situation. I told her I was ready to leave El Paso. She was blown away by my wanting to move first because we've been here for so long and I want to go, and second because of what I said after she asked her next question. She asked my why I wanted to move so much. I told her that El Paso isn't my home anymore. Then she wanted to know why. I told her I missed taking care of Travis. I told her it was my job to cook and do his laundry and just be there for him. Then she nearly dropped her teeth.

She told me she hadn't heard an American woman say anything like that. Heh? She also said that women from her country were becoming like American girls too. She said most of the women she comes across in her line of work are too caught up in being what sounded like she said, "dissatisfied and about me." So I guess that means that at least a small percentage of foreign women think that us American chicas (and some of their own) are grouchy cows who only focus on themselves. I wasn't offended. Mainly because she made it clear that I was somehow different from my national sisterhood.

I would like to think that I am the right blend of modern woman and the girl next door and a traditionalist in the marital arena. I relish in caring for Travis. I love my kids and would do anything for them, but my life is really about Travis. Because of him, I have our kids. He works hard every day (and there are so many more every days these days and his every days seem to keep getting longer) and it is my job, and always has been my job, to make his life with us at home a respite from the insanity of his career. I want the house quiet and the family room clean when he comes home. I want dinner to be ready not long after he gets home, if I can't have it done before he arrives. I want him to come home and walk in the house and know that he has a sanctuary at his disposal for at least the next several hours. Why is that such an oddity in our culture?

Have we removed ourselves from the past and progressed to the point that our traditional roles, as women, have become so completely cumbersome to us that we leave them in the dust behind us? That just makes me sad.

I am sure there are those who would say that part of my June Cleaver factor is that I am a Christian. I could agree with them, I guess, were it not for the fact that I have always felt this way. I have always known that making my husband's life easier, and richer, and more comfortable would be one of my greatest accomplishments. And by always, I mean before I even had one, or before I had one in mind.

What is the problem we "progressive" women have with taking joy in being responsible for the enrichment of another's life, particularly if that another was a man? What's with the man-hating? I just don't get it.

I am sure it's gonna tick someone, somewhere off, but I am going to say it anyway, cuz that's how I roll. We can be the corporate raider. We can be the ultra power-hungry attorney. We can be a divine baker or a fabulous dog walker or a tenured professor. But, none of that can bring us satisfaction unless we choose to allow it to do so. Maybe just being a housewife can make us complete- if we choose to allow it do do so. Maybe we can be the banker and let the drive home serve as the buffer between what we do and who we are, so we can jump into our jammies and cook an awesome three course dinner or just chuck a frozen lasagne in the nuker and grab a glass of iced tea and chill.

Who's to say that women who have stayed home to grow their families rather than their investment accounts have it wrong? See, I had the career. I had a great career. I had a crappy couple of bosses, but I had a great career and I loved it. I was good at it, I was highly respected and I loved it. And then I left it. My husband was gone to Iraq, my kids needed to be able to have afternoons for their stuff, I wasn't serving my career or my family well simultaneously, so I quit. I thought Travis was going to have a stroke, but I did it anyhow.

The outcome? I lowerd my expectations of myself and began to accept that I was doing what I had to in order to grow happy healthy people (including me). I took the focus off me and took my joy from doing for my family. And that was the best decision I ever made. Leaving my job prepared me to be fulfilled by living.

Currently listening : Leave It To Beaver: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack By Randy Edelman Release date: 1997-08-12

But on the Content of Their Character

2008-10-20T21:58:00.000-07:00

Current mood: argumentative

Can anyone tell me who said that? Anyone? My guess is that there are tons of people who can and at least an equal amount of folks who cannot. What inspires me to write this is all the pre-election bullcrap going on. It is equally bi-partisan. I mentioned before I didn't want my vote to be based upon who was the lesser asshole, but so far, that's how it is looking.

Both candidates have their backs up against the closet door trying desperately to shove the bones back in before some photog comes along and captures a still to rock the foundation of modern politics for the foreseeable future. Trust me, I see both sides. Yeah, I tend to be quite conservative, but I NEVER vote a straight ticket unless that's where my heart leads me. Mi corazon has never done so.

Keating Five. Rev. Wright. Big business. Ayers. We can play this kind of ping pong all night if we so choose and we'll still be in the same position as the moment it all began.

I prefer to state the following: I am sick to death of hearing about how, "Its about time we put a black man in the White House." I've heard it stated so many different ways and it is still the same message every single time. Vote Obama because he is black. Well, yes, he is. He is an equal amount white, just to drive home a moot point.

What spurred me to this level of aggrivation is the quote I heard about a week ago. I was watching one of the cable news channels (I honestly don't remember which one and that has less to do with it than anything) when I saw a man (whose race is unimportant) in an interview. He declared the following (sorry if I paraphrase it incorrectly, but the meat of it is the same, I swear), "I am voting for Barak Obama based on the historical significance of his candidacy." What? Are you friggin' serious?

Vote for Obama because he organized and rallied a community. Vote for him because you like his global view. Let Barry be your man because he opposes troop presence in Iraq. Vote for him because you hate McCain. Vote for Barak because you like his policies.

Do not vote for Barak Obama because he is black. Or African American. Or any other derivative of racial description. To do so is stupid.

Voting for Barak Obama because he is black is horrible. If one were to vote for Hilary Clinton because she is a woman is equally as assinine. It equates to voting for McCain because he is old or Palin because she is a babe. USELESS!

To vote for Barak Obama based on the historical significance of his "blackness" completely negates any political work or community work or education or any measure of who Barak Obama really is. How is his race or ethnicity in any way validation or proof of what kind of President this man will be?

People have been throwing around a lot of familiar names these days with regard to the civil rights movement of the 50's and 60's. Most notably for people around the world is Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Do you know what he said? Do you know the words he spoke? Do you realize the value in his vision?

Read on, if you will:

From the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, August 28, 1963. (I didn't know the August 28 part, but I knew the rest)

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But 100 years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men - yes, black men as well as white men - would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check that has come back marked "insufficient funds."
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and security of justice. We have also come to his hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end but a beginning. Those who hoped that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "for whites only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no we are not satisfied and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. I say to you today my friends - so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification - one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day, this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning "My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my father's died, land of the Pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring!"

And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.

Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado. Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi - from every mountainside.

Let freedom ring. And when this happens, and when we allow freedom ring - when we let it ring
from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children - black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics - will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual: "Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

My favorite part? I HAVE A DREAM THAT MY FOUR LITTLE CHILDREN WILL ONE DAY LIVE IN A NATION WHERE THEY WILL NOT BE JUDGED BY THE COLOR OF THEIR SKIN BUT BY THE CONTENT OF THEIR CHARACTER.

Yes, it is about time "we" put a black man in the White House. Truth be told, having a black man as the leader of the world's agruably most powerful nation should have happened long ago. That is correct. But, to put someone there simply because he is black is not correct. It is corrupt.

If you intend to vote for Barak Obama, please do so. Just, please, do so based on his accomplishments or how he has inspired you. Vote for Obama because you see the leader within who surely must evolve. Listen to him speak, research his legislative history, study what it is that he stands for and then vote.

Should you vote for Barak Obama because he is black you will set American Race relations back by decades.

Currently listening : Black by Popular Demand By Guerilla Black Release date: 2004-12-14

So, Ummm, Yeah

2008-10-13T13:44:00.000-07:00

Current mood: aggravated

Today I drove a client to an appointment for herself and her son. Not a big deal, but we got on this topic and I ain't done with it yet.

Last week, I was in line at Big 5. That is a grocery store near our house here in El Paso. I was standing there with three items, all of which I needed. I would have paid less for them, were I shopping at the commissary, but that requires me to drive much further, thusly using more gas. So, saving and conserving one way bites me in the butt the other. Between our home (for which we are still paying the mortgage note) and the grocery store is a low-income government housing complex. I don't have a problem with that. This is the problem- As I drive by the neighborhood, I see several newer and quite fancy cars and trucks. I know the price tag on many of them, as I am window shopping for a new-ish vehicle now. So, some of these folks can't afford housing at the current going rate and need low-income housing, but they can afford cars that cost well over $30k? OK.

And, I guess that sent me into a tailspin which drug me far from the prior point. Back to the line at the store. I had three things, all of which I had a real need for. I had bread, eggs, and some nanners. I was standing there in a pair of older jeans, a nice t-shirt (which I have had for at least a year), and tennies, my wedding band, toting my WalMart purse while wearing my nerdy prescription sunglasses. I was tired and had worked all three of my contracts that day. The woman in front of me had two cartloads full of groceries- mostly stuff from the frozen foods department and the cereal aisle, but a healthy supply of meats and soda as well. She was wearing some hooker shoes, a pair of Baby Phat jeans (those are the ones with the cat embroidered on the back pockets, right?), she had enough makeup to make Tammy Faye (Lord rest her Maybellene soul) shudder and enough perfume to gag Queen Elizabeth I, a super-flashy top, about five gold chains around her neck, each with its own gleaming medallion (to include a Cadillac symbol, a Virgin Mary, some other religious medal, her name, and a cross), about five inches of bangle bracelets up each arm and a ring (or two) on each of her fingers, with a dye job that was about a week old (yeah, that obvious), and a huge Coach bag (fake or not, still- Coach?). Her bill was giganticus. I think it was somewhere in the area of about $350. She pulled out her LoneStar (Texas food stamps) card and paid. She did not pay with any cash, a check or a debit/credit card. The LoneStar paid it all.

Does anyone else see a problem with this? I do understand that goverment assistance is in place to help people get on their feet so they can build a life for themselves. I take no issue with that.

I think it is a good thing, as long as it leads a person down the path to real independence. Something tells me this woman was happy with the status quo.

So, are we really helping? Are we doing what we should? Are we making sure that the money we are putting out to lend aid to those who need it is really winding up in the hands of those with true need? When can I expect social responsibility and common sense to merge?

That just gripes me to no end.

Currently listening : Will Work for Food Stamps By American Gothic

Mascara and Lipstick

2008-10-09T20:27:00.001-07:00

Current mood: determined

Things just haven't been going my way lately and most of us know it. In our entryway, immediately across from the front door there are mirrored closet doors. Most people have to take a step back when they enter because they are met with a full-on reflection of themself upon entry. They weren't our choice, they were here when we moved in and have stayed for any number of reasons. They really aren't important except that they are important to my story here.

Tuesday night Nolan took an odd hit at football. It was kind of a freak accident. Yes, one of the ideas behind football is to knock the fire out of your opponent. And, no, I am not one of those football mommies who thinks my angel is about to begin hemmoraging after every practice, including the ones with no pads and hitting. I pretty much have the idea that if you want to play sports like football and wrestling, you kinda gotta take your lickin's and all. So, the hit did concern me. In four years of contact football we've never had a real injury but Coach actually had Nolan sit out a few plays (and eventually made him lay down as well). As a play was wrapping up a boy's helmet hit Nolan's chin, under and inside the facemask, knocking his jaw in a very odd fashion. I figured once we got home and he got dinner and a shower he'd feel better. Not so much. At 8:45 we left for the ER. No big deal, the doc agreed with me and told me he'd be sore and a bit swollen for a day or two, but I was smart to bring him in to get checked because it was above the shoulders. We left just before 1:00, which was pretty much what I expected. I didn't mind.

I was very sleepy at the ER but I would not allow myself to doze. Once we got home and Nolan went to bed, I did as well. Then, I couldn't sleep. That's normal for me these days. I think I finally drifted off around 2:45, but had to wake up at around 4:00 for a potty call from the dogs. I got up, put them out, brought them in, went back to bed and got up for the day at 5:45. I went all day full-steam with work and the house and errands, then came football again. That was fine too, but I was in a totally bad moooood.

When we got home, I walked and and flipped on the hall light and caught a glimpse of myself in my ginormous mirrors. I looked like death. Seriously. No makeup, hair a mess, sweats, worn out and looking it. I made a decision at that point. "Tomorrow, I will wear makeup."

I always wear makeup. I at least have on foundation or powder at all times. My health stuff has caused me to have some serious issues with my skin and the foundation and powder help cover that and even things out a bit. The rest of the makeup aisle might or might not be visited on any given day. Today I was to put everything on.

When I got ready I realized I was out of powder and mascara. My budget has been in ICU for a while now but I had to run to Kmart for birthday stuff for the daughter (yep, 15) so I grabbed powder and mascara as well. Prolly shouldn't'a, but I did anyway. I needed it. I really, really needed it.

I've always been a girlie girl. I love shoes and purses and makeup and clothes and pedicures and fake nails (which I gave up) and its been that way since the dawn of time. I guess I've just been absorbed in everything else so I let myself go.

You know, the mascara and new powder and lipstick actually helped me feel better. I felt put together and just like I was me again. Well, me with an incredibly uncomfortable living arrangement.

Sure, it seems shallow and I would really like to think there is more to me than just the superficial, but something about getting back to looking more polished made me feel more polished. I kinda think I might have been a little happy. Sorta.

So, tomorrow, I am putting on my makeup again. Even if I don't have anything to do or anywhere to go.

Just cause.

Who knew a little makeup would save me from wallowing in self-pity?

Currently listening : Skin Deep By Lipstick Magazine Release date: 2008-08-05

For Crying Out Loud... No, Really

2008-10-06T20:22:00.000-07:00

Current mood: disappointed

Yesterday was a crap day. It was a total crap day. We have been on the go, almost non-stop since we put the house on the market on the 12th of September. Sure, we've watched TV a time or two or sat around in our jammies for a while, but otherwise, we've been cleaning, packing, painting, cleaning, footballing, cheerleading, schooling, cleaning, and ummm- cleaning.

Last weekend was our first open house. It was attended by one couple who expressed interest in the house and asked to meet with the Realtor who administered the open house regarding our house. Our Realtor was tied up at another open house (which, incidentally, went completely unattended. I have been assured that is the norm these days. Peeps just ain't lookin'.) so she had another person from her office handle ours. He was to represent the buying couple. Apparently they just aren't buying ours. Maybe they will, but I refuse to go crazy over it because I can't control it.

Yesterday, crap day, we didn't even go to church. We stayed home, Amanda and I slept late, we did laundry (which was laid out in the spare room and the halls by load), we cooked, we played checkers and backgammon and chess all day, we cleaned the kitchen and that was about it. Until the freaking doorbell rang. There was a Realtor and a couple who wanted to see the house. Ummm, I told her no.

See, our MLS information states clearly that the showing Realtor is to call the homeowner (that would be me) an hour prior to arrival. My phone never rang. NEVAH. I thought that since no one had called, we were safe to be lazy and slovenly. Shah, not.

So, I said no and then called my Realtor. She called me back and said that she clearly told the showing Realtor to call us before they came. She also told me I was completely right to tell them they could not see the house. Somehow, I feel like we may have lost out since we've had A whopping couple see the house in the last three weeks.

Also, while speaking to Gina (our Realtor), she told me she had two other couples she intended to show the house to next week. Yay. Let us hope and pray that something comes of this.

There are many reasons for this. See, I miss my man. I could go into it, but there's no sense in making everyone sad along with me. Let's just say this (skip it if you've heard me say it before), this is harder than any deployment because there is no arguing or second-guessing a deployment. They go. That's that. They just have to go. So they do. This was a choice for us. I don't want to regret the choice made primarily by me and agreed upon by him. Selling will be the first next step in my getting us there.

Also, we have two abodes. Two sets of bills. Two sets of operating expenses. It was OK for a while, but it ain't now. This crappy economy and the gas prices of the last eight months and all the travel costs have all but killed us. Selling will cut our family living expenses substantially, give us enough to seriously work on our ever-growing bills and put some in something for the kids' educations. There was a reasonable something there before. There isn't now. There are lots of reasons, but our economic nose-dive is a factor. Big factor. FREAKING HUGE. But, now we have to figure out what kind of something we inted on trusting this time around. Trust is interesting.

So, since yesterday at about 4:00, I've been upset. I have cried. Actually, I've sobbed until I nearly puked, but who's noticing. I keep wondering if this was THE client to buy this house. I have got to sell this thing. I have doubted my choice to take a real mental health day for the kids and I and wished I had just gotten up at 7:30 to get ready for church and cleaned. But, at the end of the day (just prior to the ringing of the doorbell), I felt really good. I took a greedy me day and did stuff that only serves the three of us. I even got a real jump on three nights' dinners. And it got squashed. Return to Crapville.

I know this house will sell. I know there is a buyer out there. I know I do everything I can as much as possible to facilitate that buyer who will buy this place. But, am I not allowed to take care of us at the same time?

I really want to unfurl a litany of bad words.

And I'd like to cry some more.

Currently listening : Cry Like a Rainstorm, Howl Like the Wind By Linda Ronstadt Release date: 1989-09-25

Can I Sleep it Off?

2008-10-06T20:20:00.000-07:00

Current mood: uncomfortable

Wish I could, and this is going to be one of those times when cogent typing falls by the wayside and pure emotion spills out all over. I could write about the ills of our economy or the fact that my checking account looks ever-sicker each month of this separation or more on cancer or more on my wacky family or the fact that I turned down a dog which needs a home out of respect for my family's needs (totally against my usual response to dogs needing homes), but no. I revert to being the mother of a kid in high school.

I think most of the time that Travis and I have done a relatively good job on the kids. Nolan's had his rough spots, but as he matures, I see the issues shrinking and fading. He sometimes struggles for his successes, but they do come and we appreciate his efforts. We tell him, as we tell his sister, that we are proud of them. We tell them that we love them unconditionally, and in Nolan's case, it was important for him to be told that no matter what, he could never make us un-love him. I think he gets that now. Praise the superior being of your choice (A. The Lord. B. Allah. C. Buddah. D. Hale-Bop. E. ________________).

Conversely, it is important to us as parents to make sure that when warranted, we tell our children we are disappointed in their actions. Not in them, rather, in what they do. My child is not disappointing, but the fact that her sports bras are all missing disappoints me to no end. My child is not disappointing, but the continual disappearance of his socks due to his not picking them up from the floor disappoints me and makes me break out in hives a little. You see? I hate having those conversations. They suck. They make me feel like doody. Before. During. After. Just. Plain. Doody. ***BUT*** I see a huge decline in the number of people who were raised with a sense of what is and is not disappointing to their parental unit(s). I guess that's what the ol' folks used to call, "Shame on you!" I, personally, don't think a little shame ever killed someone. If you do, stop reading because this is my blog and I'll say what I want. The way we learn that shame sucks is to feel shame for an action and learn from it how to avoid shamefulness. Or disappointment, or whatever prettier word you want to give it.

My kid is in high school now. Yes, high school. Hold on, gotta dab the corners of my eyes. Ahem, where was I, ah, high school.

This is a whole new world. I thought I might have some type of advantage here, being one of the younger moms of a high schooler. I am 35, dude. I graduated high school just 18 years ago. Dude, I thought I was young until my kid went to high school in El Paso. I think the median age for mothers of new Freshman has got to be somewhere around 30? Maybe 28? Not kidding. I guess I am old. Dude, that blows. Oh Menopause, is that you creeping through the shadows of my room?

Remember, if you will, to date we have dealt with bisexuality, homosexuality, teen pregnancy (more than one acquaintance of La Princessa is currently expecting), homelessness ('nuther story for 'nuther time), mental illness, promiscuity, all within four weeks, and now this- read on.

So, last night I went into Amanda's room around 10-ish. I wanted to talk to her. I wasn't trying to catch her in the act of anything, but that's usually how it happens. Regardless of the good decisions/bad decisions discussions, regardless of the consequences for our actions discussions, regardless of the presence of very cut and dried rules in our home, she still leans. She was leaning. She actually was texting after 9 pm. I can deal with the texting. I have learned to cope without the help of such agencies as Text-annon. My two requirements- no texting/calling during school and no texting/calling after 9 pm. Fair enough? Yeah, but occasionally when the mood strikes her, she simply must text. Last night she was texting with two people.

One is a friend from an activity and one (who shall remain as annonymous as possible because that person is a minor- I'll call them LL) is someone with whom my Precious Darling wants to spend more time. I was previously involved in the more time decision as was the father. Leery and acutely aware of newness and unfamiliarity, we reluctantly agreed. F*&^! We are so stupid.

So, the one wanted info. And to gossip. Typical. The other wanted to laugh about their choice to do some illegal things. Ah, which illegal things? LL got loaded and high. Chronic and pot. And was laughing about it, while telling my kid that they were flirting with the third person in the texting triad while loaded and high. At least they're honest, eh?

That's when the fun began. I took the phone and began to assume my kid's identity. Oh, yes, I violated the sanctity of the text. After several texts back and forth, I told LL I was THE MOM. I think I heard LL crap a little in los pantalones. So, we then shared a dialogue and I explained that pot was totally not cool with me. LL tried to get me to believe that it was a one time/first time mistake. Yo momma may buy that crap, but I wont. LL tried really hard. LL called me dude several times, dude. LL told me that they were a good kid because their progress reports was all As, cept two Bs, dude. LL even pinkie promised me. Yes, seriously. Unwavered, I didn't back down. But I wasn't a total cow to LL either. I discussed openly for an hour and a half and told LL I expected better decision making from my kid because she was taught better. When I asked LL if they had told their parents about their first timeyness, LL instantly became so tired that LL required immediate rest and bid me a pleasant evening. Not really, it was more like, "I really have to go to sleep. I need my rest. Goodnight mam."

So, now we have lied, broken at least two laws, flirted with a friend (while loaded and high and blaming it on that [which might just be another lie, no?]), and tried to manipulate someone's mom into changing her thinking that it was just a "one time thing and that everyone makes mistakes."

I told her she couldn't spend time outside school with LL. And then she tried for another half an hour, after the hour and a half I was texting LL and talking to her at the same time, to make me change my mind into believing that LL was a good person with whom she could spend extra time. I told her I do believe in second chances but LL used them up in one night and that my kid deserves more than to compromise what she knows is right for someone who thinks it is all a fun ride. I told her if she also needed to discuss it with her father. When she talked to him he said pretty much the same thing as me.

I really love that man.

Currently listening : Fast Times At Ridgemont High: Music From The Motion Picture By Various
Artists Release date: 1995-03-14

Can I Sleep it Off?

2008-09-23T21:25:00.000-07:00

Fostering

2008-09-23T11:51:00.000-07:00

Current mood: hopeful

A few weeks ago I blogged about big changes. I don't remember exactly how I phrased it, but I mentioned that I would let you all know about the outcome after Travis had come and gone. Some of the close ones here in town knew because I kind of polled people to see what they thought. Most didn't really seem surprised and everyone was supportive.

Travis hadn't been off the plane more than an hour or so before I sprung it on him. We were at Kiki's having Mexican food. We were still at the chips and salsa stage when I blurted it out to him.

"Once we all get to Columbia and get settled, I want to look into fostering." You have to know Travis to know the squinty, head cocked to 45 degrees, "Heh?" I got. I explained to him that I didn't feel like I was done nurturing babies. He knew going into the marriage I wanted more than two kids, but then I got pregnant and realized I wasn't really all that good at it (being pregnant), then I got sick and realized having a healthy baby might be hard. I had resigned myself to having two kids and being satisfied with that. And, I am.

But, I never really did feel like I was done with babies. I adore babies, and most of the time, they really like me too. I don't want to foster bigger kids, because our kids are pretty set in their lifestyles and having kids close to their ages would seem incredibly unnatural to me. Bringing babies into our family seems more organic and like a better fit. And, I am not looking to adopt. I am happy with where we are as a family.

I explained this all to Travis. I was really unsure of the reaction I would get. He's the kind of guy who is sometimes really hard to gauge, even for me. After hearing all I had to say- I was talking really fast so I could get it all out before he told me, "No"- he just kind of nodded in his noddy way and said, "Well, I guess we'll have to see how things are once we are all there together." It wasn't a no, and that was really what I was hoping for from him. Usually when he answers that way it means that he needs some time to savor the idea for himself. I feel good about his response.

I got the idea of fostering from the desire I once had to adopt a child. After having our two, the idea of adopting in addition just didn't seem like a match for us. But, baby-fever has always hit me hard. My friend's (Kori) sister and her husband foster. They are fostering in order to adopt. I hear Kori speak all the time about what is going on with the kids and how they are adapting to their ever-changing home. It sounded wonderful to me.

Plus, there's the fact that by taking these babies in, we'll be helping them to have a better life; many of them are drug affected and/or abused, or they are stuck in a bad situation. I know we wont have them long, but in some way, they will feel loved and safe, and isn't that something wonderful to give a kid that might not otherwise have that? I want to do that for a baby, or many babies. I guess this is just one more way I can make a difference in this world.

Two days ago, I ran into a casual acquaintance. She was talking about her foster kids. I had no idea this lady was a foster parent, but I took the chance to quiz her about everything I could think to ask. The more she spoke, the more I wanted to foster.

I know this is something I have to do. It is something I just feel like I am meant to do, like kismet or something. I just hope it all comes together once we are in Columbia, together, and ready to have a real life again!

Currently listening : Hope Changes Everything By Harris

I'm Radioactive, Don't Lick Me

2008-09-17T13:50:00.000-07:00

Current mood: tired

Cancer checkup day 3. Things are going pretty well, now that I don't feel like death on a stick. That was yesterday and Monday. Just in case you didn't know, Thyrogen sucks. They (the bastard doctors) will tell you that there are some slight side effects and that they don't occur in everyone. They will tell you that you just might feel a little off or a little bit like you have a flu coming on. They lie.

Monday I felt fine. I had been on the iodine diet (as they call it, should be called the no-iodine diet) since Saturday. That means I have had to be creative with my food choices. It also means that I had had no Diet Coke. That is never a good thing. So, yeah, felt fine, went to the hospital.

The first stop was the lab. I had to have a baseline blood test so the doc would have a reference point from which to judge the rest of the funny business later in the week. I am always sure to inform the phlebotomists/vampires that I don't bleed well and that they can take all the time they need to find the right-ripest-fattest vein they are able PRIOR to sticking me. It makes for a more enjoyable experience for all. I was food fasting because I wasn't sure if I needed to or not and decided to air on the side of caution. Better to fast than not when having blood work, unless, of course, there are special instructions. I got a blonde lady at the lab, informed her of my unwilling veins. She indeed, took her sweet time. She made me bleed on the first stick and I liked her instantly.

The next stop was the Endocrine Clinic. Ahh, Dr. A. What a fitting vowel. I miss Dr. Oliver. He used to be my doc, then he started working somewhere else in the hospital. I've often wanted to stalk him and beg him to see me again. It is nice to have a doctor treat you like a human AND a patient at the same time. So, anyway, the nurse at the EC took for.ev.er. To give me my injection. He chatted with an active duty patient, went in his treatment area, chatted, left to go to the lab, came back, chatted, then he took me in to the treatment area. I've had this drug before, but I had to get the complete rundown of what to expect, yay. Then, the injection. I don't care what he says, that crap hurts. He told me it was a thin liquid and would go in easy. It freaking hurt. God doesn't like liars, remember that.

I had to wait to make sure I wouldn't have a reaction, then went to my surgeon for follow-up. Not any surprises there, other than the stress of the last few weeks has helped me lose 8 of the 20 pounds I have gained since last year's amazing workout regime. Double yay! He was reasonably pleased. By that point my head hurt.

I went home and slept a bit. I woke up a bit. I slept a bit again. The kids got home and I went to bed a little early. By bedtime I was hurting pretty badly. I am not so good when I have the aches, and I had them bad. Oh, and I was freezing, even under the covers.

Yesterday I could barely wake up. We ran late all morning, but somehow I managed to make it back to the hospital for another dose of injected joy. This time the nurse injected the other arm, which is a good thing, because my right arm was hurting. I finished up there and had the headache by the time I reached the truck. Since I do NOT have an unlimited supply of money, I had to come home and paint the siding. I got the primer on the siding, the windows and the door. Then, I wanted to die. Since God could not see fit to grant me that one wish, we carried on with dinner prep, cleaning for potential real estate visitors, cheer and football practice. By the time we got home, I wanted to die more. I eventually collapsed into an achy heap in my bed.

I felt better when I woke up this morning, but that is pretty easy when you no longer feel the way you did when you asked God to give your husband a new wife that would love your children as you have. I got the kids up and at 'em and again, headed for the hospital. My first stop was the lab, where I got a young man whom I informed of my vein-ular situation. I also made sure to tell him I was fasting because I was due to have radiation and was therefore dehydrated (which, if you didn't know, makes blood drawing a little more difficult). I asked him to take all the time he needed. He thought he did, then he jammed the friggin needle in my arm so hard you'd'a thought he was going to hang a piece of art from it. After he "readjusted" the needle several times, he decided to stop and try again with a butterfly needle. Did I mention that is what the blonde lady used Monday morning? Yeah, it is. So, he got his blood and sent me off to Nuclear Medicine.

I arrived in Nuclear Medicine when there was only one other person there, which meant my visit was likely to be a quick one. Yipee! That is one of the coldest placed known to mankind, and the meds I've been taking make me cold all the time, which is a pretty dreadful situation in which to be. I sat and waited for a while when the NM pharmacist came out to speak with me about my current medications. Then, after the interview she told me I needed a pregnancy test since Dr. A forgot to order one. Yes, he forgot that a woman of childbearing age might need a pregnancy test prior to the administration of radioactive material. Ah, lucky me, I got to return to the lab, 9 floors below, to have another draw. Again, I informed the week's third vampire that sticking me was tricky. He winked and thought it surely couldn't be as hard as I made it sound. After about eight minutes of pressing on my arm, he conceded that I was right, right before he found a fat one to tap. He got me on the first stick and sent me back up to NM. NM had me wait to visit the Nuclear Radiologist until my stupid pregnancy test results came back. So, my NM appointment which had been 9:30 had taken me all the way to about 10:30 before I finally got my dose of radiation. One good thing did happen, the NR told me I could have a Diet Coke and that I could eat what I wanted if I could take it easy on the salt. Yay! I left the hospital, careful not to share any radioactive body fluids with anyone on the way out, and headed for Sonic.

44 ounces of Diet Coke later, I was changed and painting the stuff out front. I still have to do the door, but I'll be needing more paint for that. I also need to get some stuff to clean the paint off the glass of the windows, but the biggest part of the work is finished.

I am tired and I have a headache. I have a load of laundry on my bed and one in the dryer and one in the washer. I have dishes in the sink and no liner in the trash can. I am getting off this computer to go do all that crap so I can go to cheer and football tonight.

Oh, make sure you don't lick me until after 12:00 pm Friday, else you'll be radioactive too.

Currently listening : Yeah By Radioactive Release date: 2003-05-13

I am Caring Less

2008-09-02T15:49:00.000-07:00

Current mood: blissful

Most of my life I have contemplated what about me my siblings don't like. Most of the time it has baffled me beyond words. Again, my family situation is somewhat complicated with none of my siblings being my fully genetic siblings. Two are half, one is not genetically my sibling. I didn't know about one of them until I was an adult- one of the halves, whom I lovingly refer to as "My sista from another mista." Don't use the phrase if you can't back it up. I can back it up. My other sista is also from another mista and it is the same mista as the first sista. They are genetically full sisters. One of them is legally my sister 100% because my genetic father adopted her. The other one (the one that ALWAYS likes to hear from me) is legally my 100% cousin. Then there's my brother. He is adopted fully, by both parents. That NEVER mattered to me until it got thrown in my flipping face every time anything in the family happened that didn't please him. It sucks to love someone with your whole heart even though your heart and theirs share no DNA, when all they can do is complain about the fact. I guess I am horrible because I don't understand it. Said it before, sayin it again- Mine. You are mine. You are my full brother and that's that. My 100% sister is mine too. My sister. eh, whatever. After 35 years, I am sick of it all.

I talked to my mother today. Much of it was about how she is feeling (better, still) and some of it was about "the" incident. The unsolicited ass-chewing (the most recent one) which rocked my world (again) happened in the midst of Mom's hospitalization. Lets us just say that alcohol could have been a factor in "the" incident, but I have no proof. Ah-hem.

All I wanted from my siblings (not my cousin/sister) was a relationship based on siblingly things. I just wanted to be able to hang with them and know them. I am sixteen and eight years younger than them and although my brother was technically living with us when I was growing up, he was absorbed in his stuff and I in mine, so we weren't close as kids. By the time I was born my sister had headed off into her life already. She was around, from time to time, but nothing I, as a child, could predict. We weren't close either. As a kid, that was OK. as I became an adult, I yearned to know them better.

For years I was hurt when my seeking those elusive relationships resulted in nothingness. It really hurt. It hurt me for a long time. Eventually I learned that they did not desire from me the same relationship I desired from them. I can atest to the fact that unrequited love really sucks. I think it is worse when it is actually unrequited from your real family. Yup, my real family, regardless of what they might say or think, or what legal doccumentation is involved.

I was an adult when I learned of my other sister (yup, the one that likes me). It wasn't a dirty little secret, really. It was more of a situation where certain parties were worried about the feelings of others so nothing was said for years. It was one of those family things done in the 50's that was done to protect people. I understand that. I wasn't supposed to know, but I was told. That might just be one of the greatest gifts I've ever been given. Knowledge is, indeed, powerful. Getting to know Treva has been wonderful for me. It is wonderful because I really wanted to be a sister as much as to have a sister all of my life. I'm not sure if the individual who told me meant for Treva and I to forge the relationship we have or not, but I owe you a HUGE thank you.

So, now, after 35 years, I realize it. It is crystal clear. I have a sister and I am a sister to her. And she has a relationship with our mother and is excited for all our involvement in her life means. How awesome is that?

I guess it took "the" incident to clear things up for me. Several years ago there was another incident which was very similar to last week's little issue. That hurt me for a very long time. I didn't go to Arizona for a period of about three or four years because I was trying to avoid my brother, who lived near our parents. It was the death of one of our aunts which got us back to a point where we could speak. I forgave, but I never forgot. Now I am glad I didn't forget. It was wise to not forget that.

When our father died, we were all there. One of us was avoiding dealing with it- or was dealing with it on their own in some way I didn't understand. The other two of us did what we could to make the situation bearable. There was a blowup then too, but it wasn't directed at me (for the first time, EVER!). I was just as amazed as the next guy when it wasn't my issue with which to deal. And I kept my mouth shut and stayed out of it. (Thank you, Jesus, for giving me the insight to shut my stupid mouth)

I guess it is safe to say that every major family event (except Dad's death) has resulted in someone melting down on me. I don't feel sorry for myself. I realize now that it is because I am strong. I am a fighter. I am confident in myself and who I am and what I do. It intimidates some people and it makes them feel inferior. I don't think others realize that. Most just call me a bitch. Today, I think its OK. If you have to think that to make it through the day, go ahead. I give you permission, and that, I am sure, will piss you off as well. Oh well.

Christmas 2007 was a gigantic deal. All three of us were home, at Mom's house, for Christmas. Four of the six grandchildren were there, significant others were there and even a couple of dogs. It was Mom's request. We all behaved. It was very good. No meltdowns. It meant so much to Mom and it helped me move things along in the relationship arena.

Then, this happened. Not that it matters, but Mom was involved in my involvement. Yes, that sounds confusing, but I can tell you she was as aware of what I was doing from the start. It was her request. One of those you think you are protecting knows just exactly what happened. And, they were happy to be involved. Just so you know, she's my mother too. Oh yeah, that's your line. I must have learned how to use it from you.

When you cracked open your ugliness on me, I think you thought you would hurt me tremendously. I am going to be honest, it did hurt. It hurt for about five minutes, until I got your obnoxious voice out of my head. Silence brought me clarity. Your threats and accusations only solidified my stance. I'll keep it to myself. And I will keep everything else about myself away from you too.

You no longer have access to me. You can read my blog, if you can figure out how to find it. I am not hiding. I am right here. I don't care any more. Thank you for helping me not care any more. I will never again bother you with anything. That is your doing and your choice. It didn't have to be this way, but it is now.

Don't confuse that with me not caring about you. I still do and I always will. you don't have the power to change my emotions or my mind. But, this time around, I didn't spend days being seriously upset. I got OK real quick. That was my signal that I am finished. I am done trying. And, I will be fine. For the rest of my days, I will be fine. I don't need to pursue a relationship with you ever again. You released me. Just like I have learned in the past, that may be one of the greatest gifts I'll ever be given. Thank you for making me realize that the stress of what you think is not worth it for me. You've crapped on me enough and I am finished.

To my 100% sister, I am aware you had a bit of knowledge. That's fine. You have your own opinions of me and that's ok too. I'm not looking to change your mind. I am not looking for anything any more. I am finished trying to be the sister you never really wanted. I am sorry if that sounds ugly, but I've been hurt here too. It hasn't tormented me for years, but now it wont even bother me slightly.

This even has shown me that I am about 67% on my own in the sibling department. That's cool. I'm ok.

I am proud of myself for this. It took me such a long time to know that although I will always love you, I will never really be able to be a part of your life or let you be a part of mine. My kids know what you did and what you said, too. I don't hide things from them. They are aware of what you said about them as well. The funniest thing about that is their reactions, given independently of one another. Both of them just rolled their eyes, the way teens and tweens tend to do, and said, quite profoundly, "Whatevah." I am proud of my kids. They kick ass.

Oh, and so do yours.

Currently listening : I Don't Care (If You Love Me Anymore) By Mavericks Release date: 1997-06-17

Homestretch

2008-09-01T21:05:00.000-07:00

Current mood: sore

Well, if all goes according to our wishes, we are entering the last phase of this living arrangement. Travis will be here Wednesday. I am so glad. Yeah, I'll have him putting aluminum sealant on the roof and putting the hardware the kids ripped out of the walls of the bathroom back up and putting new blades on the fans on the porch and stuff like that, but I am just so glad he's going to be here.

I've been trying really hard to hold it all together and I think I've done a reasonable job of it. I haven't killed the kids yet, which is sort of important. I've not gotten everything finished that I wanted done by this point, but there's a lot of it done. I didn't have time to have a freak out over my mother, but I was extremely scared for a while (she's home, by the way, and doing better). I did make time to have a teensy freak out after my brother's little nuclear meltdown on me.

My Aunt Betty died last week too. Mom didn't learn of it until Friday and I didn't learn of it until that night. I am sad about it, but I am ok.

I am working again. I have two new contracts and maybe a third. I am delivering a little boy to and from school and I am dog walking. The third is for animal waste pickup. The lady wants me to do that for her mother. I am not making much yet, but that will come. This is my litmus test for personal assisting. I know I can charge more in Columbia and I am pretty confident the people there will be more receptive to the idea. I am enjoying myself. That's the key. Plus, I am getting a pretty fair amount of exercise in (big, huge dog walking makes your shoulders sore from leash training them. They are still very young and are learning manners.- St. Bernard and Bulldog) and I again have my business income and write-offs. The exercise is big too, because going to the gym has almost disappeared from my life.

The biggest reason I am glad Travis will be here is that I just need him. I miss him terribly. He works like a fiend there and I feel awful that I am not there to take care of him. I miss having him to take care of. Yeah, I do take care of the kids. I am pleased to do that too, but it is nothing like taking care of Travis. Letting him go back is going to be rough. I've said it before and I feel guilty for saying it at all, but this type of separation is in some (many) ways harder than a
deployment. There is no arguing with a deployment. They are just gone. This situation was a choice. I don't want to regret it.

Today is the first day for about four or five I haven't picked up something to paint with. Instead, I walked the dogs and then headed for Home Depot for more paint stuff and the rest of the siding stuff for the front of the house and some plants to make the place look pretty outside. I just hope I can get the inside looking that nice again. I planted for about two hours this afternoon and then cleaned up out there. Have I mentioned yet how sore I am? I feel like my hip joints are about to drop my legs from my body and I hurt. I keep telling myself this will pass. I'm not thinking that it will pass for at least another two weeks.

I survived my first week as a high school parent. It wasn't that bad and somehow it seems like La Princessa is experiencing fewer issues. I am sure that is, in part, a result of the wanker not being around. I am excited for her and all the fun she is having and all that is to come her way.

The Man-Child got to wrap up the week at the Waiting Families' pizza party at IPC. We carpooled over with the Tomster and his mother and youngest brother. The boys had a blast. It was fun to watch TMC have such a good time and giggle. He won enough tickets on the games to earn himself a prize. His choice- a water weenie. I have always hated those things. It was all the excitement on the way home. I'm sure you can imagine all the fun a truck full of boys could have with a water weenie. Gestures, motions, phrases. Allow me to share- purple mushroom, one eyed snake, there were more but I was too amazed about what they were saying to remember. Yes, me, embarassed at boys.

I've got work tomorrow and the thrift shop. I have to clean and do laundry and I really need to get some more painting done.

Know anyone who wants to buy my house later this month?

Oh, I'm still sore.

Currently listening : I Think We're Gonna Be Alright By Rob Russell & The Sore Losers Release date: 2002-10-15

Sarah

2008-08-31T13:08:00.000-07:00

Current mood: fascinated

I cannot say how monumentously excited I am about Sarah Palin being named as one of the Vice Presidential candidates for this fall's election. There are so, so many reasons.

Before I get started on Mrs. Palin, I want to state my disclaimer. I have not yet made up my mind as far as who is going to get my vote. I like Obama. Like. Not love. I like John McCain. Like alot, but still not love. I hate Joe Biden. Hate, not like. But I really, really freaking love Sarah Palin. And with that, it is not that she is a woman. I wouldn't vote for the Republican ticket because Mrs. Palin is a woman any more than I would vote for the Democratic ticket because Barak Obama is black. Historical yes, but it still wont secure my vote. I try to vote for me and my family. Unfortunately, sometimes I have to vote for the candidate who I think is less of an asshole.

Here's something interesting, when going through a photo gallery online of Senator McCain announcing Governor Palin as his running mate, the sixth or seventh picture in the gallery was of her shoes. Just her shoes. Now, they were great shoes, and as a shoe addict, I must say I want a pair of just those shoes, but seriously- we are on the verge of an historical election which has the potential to completely redirect the course of our country and the press is looking at the nominee's shoes? Maybe we should all stop thinking of her as a pseudo First Lady (because we always look at her clothes and shoes) and start acting like she has the potential to one day run this country.

Mrs. Governor Palin has been in my shoes (no pun intended). Sort of. She embraces the spirit of the American west. She has dedicated her life to her family. She has been at practice fields for hours and hours and still found time to work and achieve excellence.

I like that she is pro-life. I think I am pro-life too, but I am not sure. I think abortion is awful and I know I could never have one. I don't think there are any circumstances which would change my mind. I can't imagine having a soul inside my body growing from my cells and never having the chance to at least lay eyes upon the person it grew into. But that is me. I would strongly encourage anyone I knew who was contemplating an abortion to not have one. But, if they decided to go through with terminating a pregnancy, I would be there, beside them, supporting them and helping them. I would mourn silently for that child and never speak of it to the woman who made the decision because ultimately, it would be her decision and her choice. If legal abortion were to be abolished it would be a huge mistake. I can't imagine the health dubacles that would ensue among other things. I hate abortion but I don't think it should be illegal. Does that make me pro-life or pro-choice? I would hardly call myself pro-choice.

I see Sarah Palin as a woman who has taken her circumstances and used them to better herself. I see the progression of where she came from to where she is. I want to know her better. I want to know that she does represent me and women like me.

Another unfair point I heard drawn Friday had to do with her son, Trig. He was born in April and he has Downs Syndrome. Palin and her husband knew after routine tests performed during her pregnancy that the baby would have DS. There was never a question as to whether or not to terminate the pregnancy. They knew he would bring something to their lives and add to their family, regardless of his condition. The question drawn by some stupid commentator was how she would be able to perform well as a Vice President when she had such a needy infant to care for. WHAT? You mean to tell me after all the work women have done to show that we are capable of anything and having a female candidate pursuing the Democratic nomination, after watching women in combat, after everything that someone would doubt Sarah Palin's ability to carry out her responsibilities as a Vice President?

Why is that?

Feminists don't like Governor Palin. I just don't understand that. Why does the National Organization for Women not support her? Is it her stand ..ion? Is that the only reason or is it that she is a Republican? That's sad. Here we have a strong woman, married to her high school sweetheart for somewhere around twenty years, with five children, who is equally accomplished in parenting as she is business and government, who has blown the whistle on over spending and corruption, who is willing to blaze a trail and they wont support her? Aside from the abortion issue and the pantsuit, what is Sarah Palin missing? Oh, and by the way, Geraldine Ferraro, the Democratic Vice Presidential candidate from 1984 does like Sarah Palin.

Puleeze.

Currently listening : Spice By Spice Girls Release date: 1997-02-04

Hasta

2008-08-28T23:34:00.000-07:00

Current mood: blessed

Wow, thunder, lightning, flooring, siding, chaos, cancer, death, and Mom's in the hospital.

Its a really, really long story and it is also just about midnight so I'll edit a bunch. Mom got sick. Mom got really really sick. Mom went to the hospital on the ambuhlance. Mom went home. Mom got sick again. And sicker. And sicker. Mom went back to the hospital on the ambuhlance. She be hangin' there for a while. Docs gotta do some tests but they have a pretty good theory, they just have to locate something and come up with a way to fix it. Its technical and kinda gross and she'd kill me if I told you, so I wont. She's going to be ok in a few days.

That leads me to the next thing. Just as I was going to call my sister, the one who likes me well enough all the time, the phone rang and the insanity began. Funny how I had that stupid phone in my hand. Seriously, in my hand.

Unfurl the litany of accusations and craziness, and all you spectators sit back with a cool drink and watch the freak show, will ya? Yet again, I was reeled in and caught off-guard and it whapped me in the face. It never changes. No one insulted anyone until my phone rang. No superiority/inferiority, at least on my part, but your friendly neighborhood _____________(insert adjective of your choosing) thought different. Why do I never see it coming? Only I wont back down anymore.

Hi, have we met? I'm your sis- oops. I'm your scapegoat/whipping post/reason for starving children in China. Nice we could meet up again.

It probably all is my fault. I can trust. And like a moron, I trust more often than not, and if memory serves correct, my trust+x=Holy crap. Surely, all can see how I created the problems.

Now there's humiliation, only not me. I'm not humiliated because I didn't do anything wrong. The one person you were (ah-hem) protecting and taking care of might be a good place for you to start your search. I guess a person can't have needs. At least none greater than yours.
You handled it, alright. 'Cuz you got the plan. That's why everyone else is pulling out the big pushbrooms.

Hey, LoveCop, good job. Thanks for telling me how you feel. I guess you not caring about me is why you will stew on this for ages and you will hate me again. That's ok. I can deal. I wont hate you back no matter how hard you try. For the record, none of it ever mattered to me. You are mine. Just as much mine as anyone could be. I still feel that way, but I have my guard up now. You were the only one it mattered to. How sad. My insignificance is not my doing. That said, you can't be puppetmaster of who I love. Or who loves me back. Being there to open Christmas gifts and do silly things like pile up on the matriarch's bed just to hear her gripe at everyone and curling hair and playing games and building legos and eating and parties and graduations are what place one in another's heart for all eternity. Genetics, not so much. There is no eraser big enough to erase me- and my fat ass from hearts. And that's ok with me too.

Hard as you try, you can't un-love me. But I can un-trust you.

Oh, and the ones you mentioned and what you said, they already know you in a way you could never imagine. No one taught them hate and there is none there. But you can't hurt them the way you think you can. Because at 25 divided by 2, they are far stronger than you.

and maybe I didn't know the one you ache for the way you did. Stop. You didn't know him the way I did. Square?

I love you.

And I am protecting me now.

Currently listening : Game Related By The Click Release date: 1995-11-07

Zombie-mode

2008-08-26T11:15:00.000-07:00

Just when I thought it was safe to take a breath (that I had to schedule just to take) I was wrong. I am in full freak out mode right now. Travis will be home in a week. That means I have a week to finish packing and cleaning and painting and sprucing so we can meet with the Realtor when he is home to get this thing on the market. I have so much to do.

As I mentioned before, I went to my endocrinologist yesterday. He didn't have much to say other than all the labs drawn look really good and that it was time for a new full-body scan. I didn't know I would have to follow the I-131 diet again. That sucks. Nuclear Medicine wanted to schedule my I-131 dose on the 3rd. The very day Travis' plane lands. I simply asked the receptionist if the low dose could potentially be dangerous to him (you know, close contact and all) in the days following my dose. You'd'a thought I asked for a dissertation on the half-life of irradiated iodine and the usefulness of the modern-day Geiger counter. A simple, "Yes," would have been fine, but I guess they are nothing if not thourough. I'll quit griping about that. We got it rescheduled for the week after he leaves again.

What I will gripe about is what I started griping about in the first place. I gotta go on the I-131 diet again. Bleah. It isn't hard, I just can't eat anything packaged other than frozen veggies and one ounce of cheese per day. I have to limit my consumption of meat products and basically work from scratch on everything. I've done it before, I'll get through it this time.

I also have the good fortune of receiving not one, but two doses of Thyrogen (a synthetic drug that stimulates the body into believing it is in hypothyroidism without actually discontinuing thyroid hormone replacement medication which would actually cause hypothyroidism, see?) while I am on the ever-so-cranky-makin' I-131 diet. Yay. So, I'll be sick of life and sick at my stomach and lethargic all at the same time. And all during the first week the house will be on the market. Ah, I am so blessed.

Oh, and did I mention I have three blood draws (ever looked at my veins? I, like, don't have good ones) and two injections within five days? OOOOhhh, and one more, on the last day of the diet and pincushion test, I get to lay completely (like, I'm like, totally dead) still for an hour in the absosmurfly cold Nuclear Medicine department for my scan.

I know it is all for my own good and that I really do need the follow-up tests to ensure that I have no thyroid tissue or cancer regrowth and I am grateful for it. I just really hate having to be a zombie while I am by myself, otherwise proclaiming my ability to do it all on my own. I have good friends and I love them all for what they do and have always done to give me a hand. It is just really freaking hard to ask. I. hate. asking.

Oughta be fun!

Guffaws, Flat-Out Flipping Guffaws, I'm Telling You!

2008-08-26T06:19:00.000-07:00

Current mood: amused

Oh, I do love mornings when laughter inside my head drowns out the moans of my children in reference to getting up and ready for school, when just yesterday they sprung forth with anxious anticipation of the glory that lay ahead.

Visit this website, I found it on a friend's MySpace page. I think you will at least giggle, likely to do so out loud.

www.stuffwhitepeoplelike.com

Oh, my eyes are so full of tears that I can barely make out my keyboard!

Currently listening : The Marshall Mathers LP By Eminem Release date: 2000-05-23

2008-08-25T22:06:00.000-07:00

Current mood: crappy

All I wanted to do tonight, once the kids were done telling me about their first day of school, and cleaning the kitchen and starting on odds and ends for lunches tomorrow, was to sit and watch tonight's coverage of the DNC. I started the DVR recording shortly after 9:00, thinking (like a stupid idiot) that my wonderful children whose 8:40 bedtime was so generously (on my part) extended to 9:00 would just be quiet and let me watch. Yeah, good thing the DVR has a pause button, huh?

Ted Kennedy took the stage first and I must say, even thought I have never liked any of his doings, he looked extremely well. He's been through a medical hell. I'm not familiar with his type of cancer, but I know that radiation sucks. Chemo really sucks. Brain surgery? Pretty sure that one pegs out on the suckometer as well. Good for him and better for his family that he is pushing so hard against the odds he faces.

I really hate watching the conventions. I always have. I watch, when I watch, not to so much hear the speeches, but rather to pick up on the candidates' and their spouses' subliminals and body language. I like to hear their inflection and intonation. I want to learn what makes them who they are and watching a speech, as opposed to listening to one, helps me figure people out. I the necessity of political conventions as a platform to announce a candidate is somewhat outdated with the forms of media currently available, but they do serve my purpose for viewing well.

I've watched Michelle Obama in interviews and on the View and I just haven't liked her. Tonight didn't change my mind. I can't really pinpoint what the problem is. And that aggrivates me most.

Her speech was a good one. She delivered it extremely well. I am not naive enough to believe she was 100% responsible for all the verbage. The campaigns do have people to take care of that kind of thing, but if anyone was capable of writing that colorful a speech, it would most likely be her. Her training in all things law have given her a strong abilty to speak well on a grand scale.

I, along with countless others, represent just the people she spoke of in her speech. My father was also a blue-collar worker. Many times he would leave for work by 3 or 3:30 in the morning and when there was lots of overtime available, he would take it and not be home until well after dark. My mother stayed home until I was in the sixth grade. She worked at Motorola after that and until she retired. That was hardly a light-duty job. On those days when my father was home at a reasonable time, he would spend hour after hour on the phone. He held various positions in Arizona Pop Warner Football and later in Arizona Youth Football, the last of which was Federation Commissioner for many years. Every moment on the phone or at the Federation office was done out of love. And all of his work was volunteered. My mother helped with my Girl Scout troops, carpooling, she took me to softball practice and made sure that whenever I was participating in some event, that she was there. I knew my parents worked hard. I knew how important everything they did truly was, so I understand what Michelle Obama said about community and personal involvement.

And, I am one of the many military families she referenced. I've done that. I've been there. Just a bit of advice to everyone who uses the sense of "military pride" to force their agenda- Stop it. You piss us off. Incredibly. Yes, we are here and we appreciate those who appreciate us and our spouses. We hope people are inspired by our sacrifice. We are strong. And if you haven't lived it you will never fully understand. Please, musicians and politicians and retail entities and everyone else, do show your appreciation but don't use our lifestyle to further your position in any capacity. Simply tell us, "Thank you," in word and deed.

Somehow I just can't help but think that her speech was so very contrived and even though she really worked hard to make it look natural and conversational, parts of it just seemed so saccharine. I was disappointed. I wanted to be wrong about her. I wanted to see in her something genuine. She gave a stellar effort to the task but I took next to nothing from her words.

I hate when the parties (both of them) use the minor children of the candidates or elderly parents of the families to show the softer side of the candidate or their spouse. It just annoys me. It annoys me the same way that I am annoyed when sappy movies try to force the viewer to feel something. It feels like the parties are trying desperately to push the candidates' "organic-ness" down our throats.

I can't help but believe there is nothing organic about the faces painted on these candidates. I am also not stupid enough to think that this is an epidemic of our modern era. It all just bugs the crap out of me.

I do think the Obama kids are way cute, though.

I am sure I wont be any more pleased when the Republicans take the stage next week. I do already like Cindy McCain, even though she has had some serious personal issues. Perhaps those issues are why I like her. I don't know.

And no, I know I wont be voting for the candidates' wives. And I wont make my voting decisions based on what I think of them.

I'm just sayin'...

Currently listening : Shut Up By Black Eyed Peas Release date: 2003-12-09

This is Why Army Wives Rock

2008-08-25T15:55:00.000-07:00

Current mood: sad

Kori called me this morning and I could tell when she asked me to come over that something was very wrong. She told me she needed me to come take a peek at her Heeler pup, Holi, so I could tell her what I thought. I put our dogs up, grabbed my glasses and keys and went right over.

Kori (and Darin, her husband) has been my friend for just shy of six years. She moved in next door when her youngest, Dillon was just a few months old. It didn't take long for Darin to give Travis and I the stamp of approval. That just means that we didn't set off his psycho-meter, so we were safe enough to have over for the occasional barbeque. There have been many times where there was only one man between us to remove carcasses or move heavy things.

When I had my kidney stone treatments, she took my drugged-up butt to the commissary and just watched while I let loose on a foggy Percocet rage against the cashier for some reason which was important only to me. She doesn't let me forget that. My kids weren't even with me when it happened, but they could tell you the story because they've heard her tell it so many times. Travis was deployed, but she took care of my kids and made sure to stumble through the rocks between our houses in the darkness to make sure I took my meds when I needed them.

When I had cancer, she was there to help Travis and my parents with everything. She drove kids to and fro, she checked on me, she ran errands and never kept score. She understood my favor mantra: it all works out in the end. She also applied it to our relationship.

Those are only a couple of examples of the kindness she has shown me and my family. And, I am one of only two non-family personnel allowed to watch their kids. The other is Travis.

I knew Holi hadn't been feeling well, but we thought it was nothing serious. She hadn't had her first heat cycle yet, so that idea was on the table. She's a chewer so we wondered if she had gotten into or ahold of something which disagreed with her tummy. We looked up various afflictions based on her symptoms and they all pointed to taking her to the vet.

I had a prized Endocrinology appointment with my new doctor (I really miss Dr. Oliver) this afternoon, so after an hour or so at Kori's, she headed for the vet and I to the house to get ready for my appointment. As soon as I hit the first light between our houses I felt awfully guilty about not going with her to the vet. I got home and showered as fast as I could. I got dressed, did my hair and called her to tell her I was on my way.

She giggled when I told her I was coming because Erin and Jessica were already there. So when I got there the door to Holi's exam room was open and there my girls were. Holi had been triaged but they were waiting on the doctor to come find out more. After a while Jessica had to leave to pick her little one up from his first day of pre-school and not long after that the doctor came in. He assessed her and ordered tests to see if there was a bacteria or parasite involved. The tech took her from the room and the tests were done and they returned her to the room.
I'll spare you the details, but it was pretty clear after that the situation was more serious than we had thought before.

Eventually the doctor returned with the diagnosis. Holi had Parvo. Ultimately, the doctor and Kori agreed on euthanasia. By the time they had her catheter in place, Jessica had returned from picking up her son. So, there we were, four Army wives from different backgrounds and different age groups, three of us joined for the simple purpose of helping our friend get through the day.

And it was a rough day.

Currently listening : What About Your Friends By TLC Release date: 1992-11-13

This Week

2008-08-22T21:20:00.001-07:00

Current mood: tired

Monday is the first day of school and after the last week or so I am certain that God is good. My precious angels will be out of my flipping hair for eight hours a day, five days a week again.

If we make it that far.

So, yes, I am still feeling grateful, especially after hearing more details about last week's horrible news. This has given me chills, crying jags, sorrow, and has sent me to my knees more than once. This is a feeling I will never forget. And I don't want to forget, for many reasons.

I've found a suitable substitute for new siding on the front of the house. I still have to do a few things to the missing siding in the back, but I think I can spruce it up well enough to do. Yay! I got paint for my bathroom and the dining/kitchen/hallways. Now, at some point I just have to build up the gumption to get the job done. I still also have to strip the paint from two doors and the corresponding trim. I got my scrapping table set up the way I have wanted it for ages (and never had) and have nearly finished the scrapbook I have been working on for my sister to commemorate Bob's life and services. I am very proud of it.

I've been trying to remember to make my bed every day. I think I've got about an 88% on that.

I am also trying to be better about bedtime. Next week is going to kick our butts.

On Tuesday I was passed counterfeit bills (note, plural) at a store. I found out when I tried to buy a gas card at WalMart and one of the bills. As I was taking it from my wallet, I straightened the bill out and it tore in two pieces. The clerk told me he could not accept the bill and sent me to the bank at the front of the store. They said they would be happy to exchange it and then they told me it was counterfeit. They told me they had to keep it. I told them they were going to give it back to me or give me a statement that I had a counterfeit bill so I could go back where I got it (and yes, I am positive I know exactly where I got it) and let them know I wanted to recoup my loss. They checked the other bills and BINGO- all fakes. I had no idea that when you get passed counterfeit money you are out that money. You can't go to the Federal Reserve and ask for them to replace it and the Secret Service can't do it either. Seriously. I was ticked. If I pass the bills on, then I can be prosecuted as well. Not spending them, not even going to think of it.

The Home Depot became even still bigger fans of our family as I blew wads of money there to help me finish off the projects I've been working. Fun. Until the bill comes. Lets hope the house sells quick.

Nolan's first football game is tomorrow against the Raiders. I'll let you know how that goes and hopefully the camera will have ample space on the memory card (provided Amanda has enough pictures of herself in her mirror) and ample batteries and then I'll post even more annoying pictures of my kid in his brand new uniform with his teammates. I know you are on the edge of your seat for that.

Amanda asked Travis if she could re-join the El Paso Youth Symphony Orchestra. He said yes, because he is away and wants to make his little princess happy, I am sure. It could also be that he wants to make my life a living hell. She was grounded out of it for failure to comply with my requests in May. Maybe April? Don't remember, but it was his decision. Anyway, as if I needed more craziness and miles on my truck, tomorrow's the day. They are heading down to Juarez to perform next weekend, but we are not allowing her to go. Juarez is a scary place these days and I am not allowing her to travel in a bus or anything else over there. Nope, nope, nope.

Her pal B is spending the night, then we wake early, have breakfast, make lunches to eat in the car, pack up, take B home, hit the practice field to pick up the new uniforms, hit the game field for warm-ups, play the game, leave the field for the rehearsal hall, eat in the car, wait for the end of rehearsal, come home and collapse.

Sheesh.

Currently listening : You Drive Me Crazy By Britney Spears Release date: 1999-11-30

2008-08-13T21:59:00.001-07:00

Current mood: sad

No, we aren't on a deployment right now, but many of Travis' brothers and sisters are. He wanted to be with them. He tried everything he could to stay here, then go there. God, fate, kharma? I don't know, but it wasn't meant to be.

Travis' former unit deployed for the thrid time to Iraq in June. This was one of the only Military Police companies in the entire Army which hadn't suffered a fatality in Iraq. Yes, there were some serious injuries between the last two deployments, but everyone came home and moved forward. Everyone.

Sadly, we can no longer claim that proud moniker. I was at home today when Travis texted me that he had just found out 978th had a loss. As the afternoon passed he told me who it was. He was a young MP named SPC Hale.

I don't know much about him, just that he had a wife and at least a couple of kids. I don't recall ever having met him, myself, but I may have. There have been so many young guys I've met that sometimes I lose track of which face and which name go together. I am really going to put some serious effort into being better about that, although I do pretty well most of the time.
I also don't know how he died, but I know enough to have a pretty good idea of the basics. I do know two others are in critical condition, so please think of them as well.

My heart is breaking. This is one of the worst days I can recall. I've cried today for his family and for the Soldiers who will remain in Iraq to carry on, while they carry his memory with them. Suddenly the disarray in my house and my bruised foot don't seem like all that big a deal.
I wish there were something I could do to help this young wife without intruding. I know the last thing she needs is someone she doesn't know needling in and that is not going to be me. I would like to help make casseroles and clean toilets until she is more up to it.

I really do hurt for her. I hurt for her babies too, because I think they are all very young as well.

A few weeks ago, we learned of another death in the MP family. SSG Warren was outside Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri on a motorcycle ride with a friend. He was killed in a collision with an SUV making an illegal turn on the interstate. He also had a family. They had stayed behind in El Paso and weren't with him when he died.

So, as you read this, please take a moment and think of these men, both of whom had seen combat more than once. I think it is certainly appropriate to be grateful, this day, for what we all have and to thank our military for everything they do. I know most of us wouldn't take the job.

Currently listening : Greatest Hits: Every Mile a Memory By Dierks Bentley Release date: 2008-05-06

P.P.H.P.H...what the heck, can I leave now?

2008-08-08T15:47:00.000-07:00

Current mood: sleepy

Yeah, so today was early registration for athletes at the high school. That means us. I'm gonna say something that might piss some peeps off, but oh well... I can hardly believe cheer is like, totally considered a sport. Yeah, band is too (but not orchestra?). I guess it is kinda legit.

Sorta.

Anyway, our high school requires students to take their "sport" as a "class," thereby allowing them to register early to allow the school a chance to make sure they get the schedules they need to accomodate their "sport." I hate that crap, should just be register when Freshman register and call it a day.

Registration was from 8-12 for A-L. We slept a little late and didn't get there until 8:45. We had everything in order. We were ready to go. The cover letter on the packet said the process would take 30 minutes. Lying bastards.

I left the man-child at home becuase one thing I really needed more than exposure to 200 high schoolers was to take my eleven year-old into that environment. Someone shoot me now. Oh, by the way, the batteries on BOTH the cordless phones have died in the last six weeks, leaving me with effectively no land line. Bubba doesn't have a cell phone. He got to wing it.

At 10:04, when the football teams (yes, both of them) came in and the collective odor-ometer pegged out to "extreme," I started to wonder if we were ever going to be finished. With the waiting portion of registration.

Evah.

Our system (mastermindingly crafted, by the way) required one to obtain a ticket with a number upon entry to the cafeteria. One would then proceed to the seating area and seat. And seat. And seat. When one's number was called, one would proceed to the first station for forms inspection, then on to the nexts of about ten other stations. We go there at 8:45, 'member? Our number was 102. They called 38 when we left the number-giver-outer-guy. He didn't call another number until about ten minutes later. No one told me there would be a nap station for registration, and I am a little pissed at that. I could have brought my peeloh and gotten some shuteye.

10:00. Number 52. No, seariussly.

10:15. Number 53.

10:45. Number 60. Son of a biscuit maker, we movin' now!

Psyche.

Sew, it was 11:15 when we got to Number 102. Jesus heard me. Just not as fast as he heard the others cuz I gots no rosary.

Once we began to circulate through the stations, we were doing ok. Until. IDs and Fees. The ID card matching started acting like a teenager and decided to stop all activity. "Jew can go ahea threw dee udder stashuns and affer jew have jews techsbuhxes and get jews ID." Whu?

Next was the lunch station. See, we don't qualify for reduced or free lunches any more, so I thought we could skip that one. Nope! "I knee jews ping cheet so I can sheck it off, meehah."

Kelly was there, trying desperately to get the Tomster and Pimp Daddy T registered, only to learn she would have to wait until next Friday. You see, when her father was diagnosed with terminal cancer, she packed the three Ts (Tommy Jr. [15], Terry [14], and Thomas [10]) up and went home to 'Bama to care for him, thusly disenrolling them from the ever-so-streamlined Ysleta Independent School District. That means she has to register on Incoming-Out-of-State Registration Day. Major suckage. They practice with the football team. Oh, and the basketball team. They have for weeks now. Does that, then, not qualify them as "Student Athletes?"

After the lunch lady, we rocked on through the rest of the process and got the... Wait for it... 748 pounds of books La Princessa will require. Oh, and her schedule. What the heck, she's taking French? I didn't know that. Neither did she. Oh well, French it is. And Geography and Algebra and English (AP) and Orchestra and Cheerleading (yes, the class). Then we got the beloved ID. Chee dodent reely like eet, but den chee ees a deenasher.

I think it is cute, but then I am just a mother.

We got home at 12:32.

I sleepy.

Currently listening : Grease (Original 1978 Motion Picture Soundtrack) By Olivia Newton-John Release date: 1991-04-16

Startin' to Wonder

2008-08-06T08:49:00.000-07:00

Current mood: angsty

Ugh. No, really, that's all I can muster. Sort of.

That little jerk is back at it again. I'll have to be vague here. Trust me, if you knew him you would want to.............. I am not going to go there. But I want to.

Diggin in when it isn't your place and saying things to hurt someone really prooves what kind of class A wanker you are.

You said it was because you wanted to say some things knowing you would never again have the chance. It isn't. The reason is that you want to stir things up all over again. You lay the blame on another when you were the one to throw all the stones. Say what you want, little turd, you started it and then you blame the one who was innocent in your little ploy and tell her hurtful things to make her second-guess herself and me. Yeah, me. That's right. Do you remember that I can get the cops involved if I want? I wont let go either. And, when it comes to bite, I can put yours to shame.

You say her allowing me to control her is what defines her. That's pretty profound for a child. Your reasoning is that she didn't "stand up" to me for you. Well, Junior, I'm the one with the uterus and the debit card and until you can produce both those items as well as a few other things, shut it. My parental involvement does not make anyone a bad person or a lesser person. Maybe the fact that you've never been expected to comply with effective and structured parenting shades your vision of the world. But, that is not my problem and I will not allow it to be hers either.

Here's the funny part. You could have let this go and moved beyond. You have chosen not to do so. OK, that's fine. But what you said, you said to be hurtful and then said there would be no way for her to contact you. Why would she want to contact you? And, what are you afraid of when you block her? The truth? You hurt her beyond belief. You made her question herself and made her feel as if she would have no friends if she weren't friends with you. Well, alot you knew, right?

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Love me or hate me, you still say my name.

Currently listening : Keep on Moving By Bob Marley Release date: 2003-12-09

SgtBeesWife is a Great Big Nut Job!

Monday's Thursday Thirteen

Truck Crew Woo-Hoo!

155

Mud Flaps

Listing

T13 Woopsie

Ting Tang Walla Walla Bing Bang

Thursday Thirteen, Part Deux

Thursday Thirteen

Starving into Chunkdom

Just*Can't*Stand*It!

... And There You Go

Sighs and Signs

Things I Haaa.... Don't Like Much

Spiral

A Calming

Booberiffic

Lucky 13

So They Say

Junk

You KNOW Me

Genuinely Tiny Knickers

My Snoopy

Ryan and Moore

Long Haul

Winding Down?

So We Were at the Troop Medical Center

FaceSpace-MyBook-BlogHoo

Weekend Musings

Yup, You Rock

Nerves of Jello

Looking Forward

If You Can

This and That

Playlists

Tuned In

TLB

Listingly

Bronze and Silver City

And We're Waiting

Wrap Rap

What the?

Blah-dee-blah blah!

Miscellaneousosity

Say It or Shut Up

Ironman

Grit

Big Bird and Whorin' Around

Egg Free and Loving It

Purdy Good

Updating

Yummylicious

I'm Not Sleeping

Quick and Frenzied

Cha-Ching

Unhappy Cows

But on the Content of Their Character

So, Ummm, Yeah

Mascara and Lipstick

For Crying Out Loud... No, Really

Can I Sleep it Off?

Can I Sleep it Off?

Fostering

I'm Radioactive, Don't Lick Me

I am Caring Less

Homestretch

Sarah

Hasta

Zombie-mode

Guffaws, Flat-Out Flipping Guffaws, I'm Telling You!

This is Why Army Wives Rock

This Week

P.***P.H.***P.H...what the heck, can I leave now?

Startin' to Wonder

JustCan'tStand*It!

P.P.H.P.H...what the heck, can I leave now?