Yeah you read correctly, Cindy Sheehan has decided to protest on March 11th at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany. This is just disgusting. I think the Code Pink crap at WRMC wasn't any better and now this.
LRMC is the first place they go usually to stabilize a soldier and either finish treatment there or send them on to the states. This is also the main place that most dependents get care as well. It really makes my blood boil that she's got the nerve to come over here (she's being sponsored) and will make another spectical out of herself.
I plan on being there in counter protest with or without the permit. Who wants to join me?
Soldier's Angels Germany has helped me get the word out.
IWT has also gotten the word out.
The MudvilleGazette has this to say.
The Free Repubic too.
UPDATE: Sadly I can't organize a protest because of work. I can still be there and of course will post any information about meeting times if people "just show up."
I even have a little slogan for my sign to carry "Cindy, support the troops not your ego. Love, a Blue Star Wife"
UPDATE #1: A German Journalist has been working on and should have the permit for folks to counter protest. Appropriately he set that up at the air base. There is no sense to go to the hospital and just cause more angst for the wounded or other patients of the hospital.
Another blogger has told me that she and some spouses are trying to round up a busload to show support. From the sounds of it, they probably will get a busload. Yeah them!
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Decisions & muscles
Last night was the first time in about two weeks that I have worked out since I quit karate. Quitting was a very hard decision but was probably an okay one. I miss it, I miss the internal discipline it gives me, the stress relief and the release of pent up energy. It just got to the point that as my brother put it, “It’s not that you don’t have anymore to learn but that this Sensei has nothing more to teach you.”
For the last year my friend and I have gone to class on a regular basis only to learn 1 form and two knife techniques. Most of the time we teach class, assist in teaching class or end up basically sitting through an aerobic kickboxing class. It became frustrating to sit stagnant in our growth and never get to practice what we had learned. The last time we sparred was November, I think. Back when I was a yellow belt we were told to sit and watch patiently while the higher ranking students went through their forms. He never stopped class so long that it would get boring, but it gave some time for them to practice what they’ve learned. We never got that. We would go through the first three forms 5-6 times and then move on, never touching forms at our level.
After a year of basically attending aerobics class that I paid $80 a month for when I could go on post for free I had had enough. Several students have talked to him about this issue and he would fix it for about 2-3 weeks then back to the same old, same old. I had hoped to leave here a blackbelt but that just was not in the mix. When you add the incident where he drunkenly acted an arse in my own home, plus my spouse and I trying to get pregnant – it really was just time to move on. I can’t test for blackbelt pregnant anyways. I have to be able to fight full force, take hits and falls and a little one in the incubator just wouldn’t be good to take a chance on.
So after feeling sullen and throwing a pity party that I had left one of the biggest loves of my life, I finally got off my arse and did something. I can tell I haven’t done jack crap for the last two weeks. My shoulders hurt, my lower right side of my back hurts (need to look at my workstation too) and I have energy again.
I will find another dojo once we hit the states. I will continue in some form of martial arts again, I just enjoy it so much. I hope to find my style but if not I will try for JKD. I also hope to find a dojo that doesn’t shy away from the more spiritual aspects of martial arts. Sensei was always so afraid that some parent would file a complaint and yank their kid because we did a formal bow in. Formal bow-ins included three bows; One to Okinawa, one to our founder, and one to our dojo. It was hardly religious by any means but I guess just the state of a sue happy world.
Wax on, Wax off but always look eye....
For the last year my friend and I have gone to class on a regular basis only to learn 1 form and two knife techniques. Most of the time we teach class, assist in teaching class or end up basically sitting through an aerobic kickboxing class. It became frustrating to sit stagnant in our growth and never get to practice what we had learned. The last time we sparred was November, I think. Back when I was a yellow belt we were told to sit and watch patiently while the higher ranking students went through their forms. He never stopped class so long that it would get boring, but it gave some time for them to practice what they’ve learned. We never got that. We would go through the first three forms 5-6 times and then move on, never touching forms at our level.
After a year of basically attending aerobics class that I paid $80 a month for when I could go on post for free I had had enough. Several students have talked to him about this issue and he would fix it for about 2-3 weeks then back to the same old, same old. I had hoped to leave here a blackbelt but that just was not in the mix. When you add the incident where he drunkenly acted an arse in my own home, plus my spouse and I trying to get pregnant – it really was just time to move on. I can’t test for blackbelt pregnant anyways. I have to be able to fight full force, take hits and falls and a little one in the incubator just wouldn’t be good to take a chance on.
So after feeling sullen and throwing a pity party that I had left one of the biggest loves of my life, I finally got off my arse and did something. I can tell I haven’t done jack crap for the last two weeks. My shoulders hurt, my lower right side of my back hurts (need to look at my workstation too) and I have energy again.
I will find another dojo once we hit the states. I will continue in some form of martial arts again, I just enjoy it so much. I hope to find my style but if not I will try for JKD. I also hope to find a dojo that doesn’t shy away from the more spiritual aspects of martial arts. Sensei was always so afraid that some parent would file a complaint and yank their kid because we did a formal bow in. Formal bow-ins included three bows; One to Okinawa, one to our founder, and one to our dojo. It was hardly religious by any means but I guess just the state of a sue happy world.
Wax on, Wax off but always look eye....
Monday, February 27, 2006
One Step Closer
The hubby moved to temp lodging this weekend! He is one step closer to coming home. I am soo excited that I can't sit still at work today.
On a goofy side note when he called on Sunday he said he had something to confess. He sounded so serious I thought he had cheated on me, or gave away $1,000 to help an Afghani or something. He then tells me, last week he had a chew! A chew, you gave me a minor heartattack for a chew? Dang that scared me to death but was quite happy for it to be such a minor thing. I thanked him for his honesty and told him not to scare me like that again!
One step closer to home! One step closer to home!!!
On a goofy side note when he called on Sunday he said he had something to confess. He sounded so serious I thought he had cheated on me, or gave away $1,000 to help an Afghani or something. He then tells me, last week he had a chew! A chew, you gave me a minor heartattack for a chew? Dang that scared me to death but was quite happy for it to be such a minor thing. I thanked him for his honesty and told him not to scare me like that again!
One step closer to home! One step closer to home!!!
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
News from the baby front
I called the MRI office earlier this week to see what the turn around time was and found myself pleasantly surprised. It used to be weeks before they could get the films read and sent off to the referral physician, but they now have their read time down to 1 week or less. I was really impressed. The Sgt that answered the phone even checked my record for me after I asked the turn around time. He was a nice man.
My doctor is comfortable with emailing back and forth about my treatment options and pretty much so am I. It's actually nice that you can send a question his way and get an answer a few days later instead of always having to make an appointment or a phone consult. So he has me fairly impressed. Once you finally get him to see you he’s actually nice, competent and interested in your well being. If I had known he existed, we would have tried to have kids a few years ago. I sent out a note that the MRI results should be in his office and that I was calling to make a follow up appointment.
The response back gave me a little bit of a chuckle - I just checked on the results, basically do not find anything consistent with uterine “special-ness” or double uterus, etc. Which has me a bit puzzled. Now what I am saying. I would certainly want to look at the cervix again….
Okay so it’s not great that he can visually find a second hole in my cervix that should not be there but the MRI results don’t show any uterine abnormalities. I was laughing at his use of the word “special-ness” and his informal use of signing his emails now with his initials. I also had to whip out the dictionary to look up his usage of the word “elucidate” (This word kicks booty and I now have a new vocabulary word). I have him puzzled which doesn’t surprise me since my appendix fooled everybody into thinking I had a mass on an ovary but turned out to be a weeping appendicitis. My poor OB/GYN at the time was quite surprised and had to place an urgent call to the on-call internist to remove it for him.
I asked what other options short of exploratory surgery do are there to see what the hell this extra hole is all about. I also told him exactly what and why I am being persistent with my reproductive health due to past and current medical conditions. He recommended an HSG. This is a type of X-ray where they insert a Foley balloon into the cervix, shoot iodine dye into the uterus and watch what happens on a real-time X-ray machine (a fluoroscope, I think). A friend of mine googled this procedure so I would know what to expect.
I don’t know what to expect nor where we would go from there should this test also show nothing is wrong. Maybe I just have a tear in the cervix and it needs to be sewn shut, but hopefully with two tests we can confirm a normal uterus and we can go from there. I am rooting for the normal here. I don’t want abnormal, I want to be plain Jane on this one.
What may sound a little weird though is that this is really interesting to me. If they could put a camera on the man’s glasses like Fear Factor or something, then I could see what he’s looking at and what he’s doing. I spent almost two hours once watching an knee replacement on the medical channel in the states. I was facinated by the fact that someone thought of this, tried it and it works. It also helps that I like to solve puzzles or mysteries and for me this is like a mystery, albeit a biological one but still a mystery. Now you know why I like CSI and keep thinking about going back to school a third time for a forensic science degree.
My doctor is comfortable with emailing back and forth about my treatment options and pretty much so am I. It's actually nice that you can send a question his way and get an answer a few days later instead of always having to make an appointment or a phone consult. So he has me fairly impressed. Once you finally get him to see you he’s actually nice, competent and interested in your well being. If I had known he existed, we would have tried to have kids a few years ago. I sent out a note that the MRI results should be in his office and that I was calling to make a follow up appointment.
The response back gave me a little bit of a chuckle - I just checked on the results, basically do not find anything consistent with uterine “special-ness” or double uterus, etc. Which has me a bit puzzled. Now what I am saying. I would certainly want to look at the cervix again….
Okay so it’s not great that he can visually find a second hole in my cervix that should not be there but the MRI results don’t show any uterine abnormalities. I was laughing at his use of the word “special-ness” and his informal use of signing his emails now with his initials. I also had to whip out the dictionary to look up his usage of the word “elucidate” (This word kicks booty and I now have a new vocabulary word). I have him puzzled which doesn’t surprise me since my appendix fooled everybody into thinking I had a mass on an ovary but turned out to be a weeping appendicitis. My poor OB/GYN at the time was quite surprised and had to place an urgent call to the on-call internist to remove it for him.
I asked what other options short of exploratory surgery do are there to see what the hell this extra hole is all about. I also told him exactly what and why I am being persistent with my reproductive health due to past and current medical conditions. He recommended an HSG. This is a type of X-ray where they insert a Foley balloon into the cervix, shoot iodine dye into the uterus and watch what happens on a real-time X-ray machine (a fluoroscope, I think). A friend of mine googled this procedure so I would know what to expect.
I don’t know what to expect nor where we would go from there should this test also show nothing is wrong. Maybe I just have a tear in the cervix and it needs to be sewn shut, but hopefully with two tests we can confirm a normal uterus and we can go from there. I am rooting for the normal here. I don’t want abnormal, I want to be plain Jane on this one.
What may sound a little weird though is that this is really interesting to me. If they could put a camera on the man’s glasses like Fear Factor or something, then I could see what he’s looking at and what he’s doing. I spent almost two hours once watching an knee replacement on the medical channel in the states. I was facinated by the fact that someone thought of this, tried it and it works. It also helps that I like to solve puzzles or mysteries and for me this is like a mystery, albeit a biological one but still a mystery. Now you know why I like CSI and keep thinking about going back to school a third time for a forensic science degree.
Trolling trhough Blogland
I’ve been tooling about blogland reading some new things and found a small gold mine! Last week I found another military spouse who is right around the same age as me. While reading some back entries of hers I found that she has good taste in music as well as making me bust my gut laughing. I recommend you give her a visit!
Not only does AWTM have hilarious things to say, but she mentioned a great music blog to visit. You must check out 100records site. They have mostly MP3s but it’s my taste of music. They featured the English Beat one time and have bits from the Specials and 7 Seconds! I am punk rock heaven. Someone who knows who 7 Seconds are!!
Lastly, I’d like to introduce you to Punkturns30. It’s a photographer’s dream of punk rock idols, mostly in black and white. I will have to take a little more time and read through the archives here. She's currently got a bit up about female drummers.
…oh wait, hey wasn’t I supposed to be working?
Not only does AWTM have hilarious things to say, but she mentioned a great music blog to visit. You must check out 100records site. They have mostly MP3s but it’s my taste of music. They featured the English Beat one time and have bits from the Specials and 7 Seconds! I am punk rock heaven. Someone who knows who 7 Seconds are!!
Lastly, I’d like to introduce you to Punkturns30. It’s a photographer’s dream of punk rock idols, mostly in black and white. I will have to take a little more time and read through the archives here. She's currently got a bit up about female drummers.
…oh wait, hey wasn’t I supposed to be working?
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
I survived, where’s my frickin’ T-shirt?
This weekend, I assisted my friends by babysitting their three kids: 13, 8 and 7. They went out of town for the first time in like probably a year sans kiddos, two nights and three days. This was sort of a test I guess, if you wanted to think that way about what it would be like to have children. Mom and dad’s parenting style is similar to my beliefs so that was very helpful.
I have to say though that there were some things that made me see that either they need to be my kids in order to have that unconditional love for them; that I still need to get used to “having kids” and the concept behind it; or that maybe I just don’t want them.
My first realization is that I have to feed them and they don’t go away without some kind of food. I don’t eat when my spouse is gone, but these folks wanted food on the dot of noon and were milling about this tiny, tiny kitchen during the dinner hour. They also randomly came up during the day asking for more food. They had prescribed snacks they could have, but they were coming up right after dinner asking for almost another whole dinner. It’s a very different perspective when you have to be responsible for someone else, including feeding them.
My second realization is that parents can’t get a moment alone if they tried. The younger girls spent a good portion of their time playing in the playroom, but it always seemed like just as the good part of the movie or Charmed, whatever was about to play they wanted to come and play in the area you were in. Since the material was not age appropriate, the eldest child was banished to the bedroom with a portable DVD player to watch the rest. I must tell you, I hate all things Pooh at the moment as well as wanting to strangle the idiot that made Barbie in the Nutcracker! Pooh music or anything I can sing too while being half asleep is a horrid, horrid invention by a bunch of sadists!
Number three is that I am so glad I am almost done with my masters! I read the same page about twenty times over during the weekend. Either someone was hungry and needed something other than chocolate, someone was fighting with each other, or the giggles had gotten too soft and too dangerous sounding that it needed to be investigated. There was no time to yourself and someone always needs some kind of attention for what ever the reason.
The last is learning how to deal with them in an age appropriate manner. The teenager can be talked to pretty much as an adult, but when an 8 year old sasses you, it gets tough. I had to keep reminding myself that she is still learning how to express herself and that I need to encourage her talking but not like that! I also had to suppress the urge to throttle her for being such a smart arse! I ended up giving out the consequence of what would happen if she continued to use that tone of voice and to be smart with me – a ten minute timeout at the kitchen table. This would be torture because she couldn’t play with anything there and she could hear but not see the television.
Then the second child works out the issue of what ever pretend toy they didn’t have for the pretend game they were playing. She found something else she could use since the middle child refused to play another game and wasn’t about to share in order to play whatever it was they were going to do. So what do I hear being muttered by the middle child as I start to leave, “I told you I solved it. I fixed this problem; it’s not a problem anymore because I was the one who fixed it….not you.” I was exasperated by that point and just quietly shut the door, walked calmly to the kitchen, opened the fridge and made faces and hand gestures of throttling something in belly of the fridge.
I was rather happy to be back at my house. They weren’t really bad kids, hell it could have been much worse but still it was rather different to have someone so dependent on you and so inseparable from your every move. It was nice when I got home, the dog said hello, we went out for a walk and after dinner she went to take her nap. I didn’t have to worry that she was destroying something, she was content with the food she got and didn’t argue for something else and we didn’t fight over the usage of the television. She was just happy to go take her evening nap. I am thinking dogs may be the better way for us to go. Seriously!
So I survived the weekend with someone else’s kids, where’s my frickin’ T-shirt?
I have to say though that there were some things that made me see that either they need to be my kids in order to have that unconditional love for them; that I still need to get used to “having kids” and the concept behind it; or that maybe I just don’t want them.
My first realization is that I have to feed them and they don’t go away without some kind of food. I don’t eat when my spouse is gone, but these folks wanted food on the dot of noon and were milling about this tiny, tiny kitchen during the dinner hour. They also randomly came up during the day asking for more food. They had prescribed snacks they could have, but they were coming up right after dinner asking for almost another whole dinner. It’s a very different perspective when you have to be responsible for someone else, including feeding them.
My second realization is that parents can’t get a moment alone if they tried. The younger girls spent a good portion of their time playing in the playroom, but it always seemed like just as the good part of the movie or Charmed, whatever was about to play they wanted to come and play in the area you were in. Since the material was not age appropriate, the eldest child was banished to the bedroom with a portable DVD player to watch the rest. I must tell you, I hate all things Pooh at the moment as well as wanting to strangle the idiot that made Barbie in the Nutcracker! Pooh music or anything I can sing too while being half asleep is a horrid, horrid invention by a bunch of sadists!
Number three is that I am so glad I am almost done with my masters! I read the same page about twenty times over during the weekend. Either someone was hungry and needed something other than chocolate, someone was fighting with each other, or the giggles had gotten too soft and too dangerous sounding that it needed to be investigated. There was no time to yourself and someone always needs some kind of attention for what ever the reason.
The last is learning how to deal with them in an age appropriate manner. The teenager can be talked to pretty much as an adult, but when an 8 year old sasses you, it gets tough. I had to keep reminding myself that she is still learning how to express herself and that I need to encourage her talking but not like that! I also had to suppress the urge to throttle her for being such a smart arse! I ended up giving out the consequence of what would happen if she continued to use that tone of voice and to be smart with me – a ten minute timeout at the kitchen table. This would be torture because she couldn’t play with anything there and she could hear but not see the television.
Then the second child works out the issue of what ever pretend toy they didn’t have for the pretend game they were playing. She found something else she could use since the middle child refused to play another game and wasn’t about to share in order to play whatever it was they were going to do. So what do I hear being muttered by the middle child as I start to leave, “I told you I solved it. I fixed this problem; it’s not a problem anymore because I was the one who fixed it….not you.” I was exasperated by that point and just quietly shut the door, walked calmly to the kitchen, opened the fridge and made faces and hand gestures of throttling something in belly of the fridge.
I was rather happy to be back at my house. They weren’t really bad kids, hell it could have been much worse but still it was rather different to have someone so dependent on you and so inseparable from your every move. It was nice when I got home, the dog said hello, we went out for a walk and after dinner she went to take her nap. I didn’t have to worry that she was destroying something, she was content with the food she got and didn’t argue for something else and we didn’t fight over the usage of the television. She was just happy to go take her evening nap. I am thinking dogs may be the better way for us to go. Seriously!
So I survived the weekend with someone else’s kids, where’s my frickin’ T-shirt?
Thursday, February 16, 2006
You MADE me hit you...
I had a complete Friend Green Tomatoes “I’m older and have more car insurance” episode last night. I think maybe I have just had enough of Germany or just enough of this deployment. Either way I had to laugh at myself and then feel really, really guilty for not keeping my cool and using my head on this.
Our mailroom is situated on a small road with parking on one side and enough space for two cars to pass each other. For some dumb reason folks love to park in the fire lane next to the mailroom and the parking spots because they are lazy and don’t want to have to find a real parking spot. I apparently made the mistake of parking in a spot that is right across from the mailroom and the fire lane last night. As I came walking out with my mail and a package, I placed the stuff in my car as a guy was pulling up. He looked right at me, where I was parked, and left his car in the fire lane.
Well, I guess I lost my mind, I swore threw my hands in the air and got into the car. A lady in a van next to me looked at me like I was nuts. I sat there for a minute debating between waiting and trying to fit. I tried to fit while the van lady watched. She didn’t even offer to be a ground guide. I thought I had it, went back another inch and tapped his car. That caused another whole round of swearing and hand waving because now I have to go in, talk to the idiot, etc. This van lady was still just staring at me like I had completely lost (I am thinking she was quite astute).
Here’s what cracks me up and makes me embarrassed all at the same time. As I walk in to find the guy I told him, “Hey, you double parked your car. You MADE me hit your car.” Confused and somewhat pissed he asked how bad it was as we walked outside. I showed him the damage. He could rub most of it off, and could buff the other out at the auto crafts center. I just kept saying that he double parked, he saw me but he double parked and he MADE me hit his car. Finally some where in there I said I’m sorry, although it must have sounded so utterly contrived.
He left after saying everything was okay so we didn’t exchange numbers or info, but afterwards I felt kind of like a jerk. Yes he did double park and yes he stared right at me while he got out of the car knowing I probably couldn’t fit. That does make him a jerk.
I on the other hand could have waited for him or went inside and yelled at him to move his damn car, or even waited for him and then yelled at him for blocking me in. He did not make me do anything that I didn’t choose to do myself by trying to squeeze out of the spot. I am not sure what caused me to lose it. I haven’t lost my temper or became such a spaz for a long, long time. This is normally something that would cause me to roll my eyes not tell a guy how he made me back into his car.
So it appears that my patients for this deployment and people have come to a breaking point. It’s time for the hubby to come home, so I can burrow back into a cave or something and snuggle for a while.
Our mailroom is situated on a small road with parking on one side and enough space for two cars to pass each other. For some dumb reason folks love to park in the fire lane next to the mailroom and the parking spots because they are lazy and don’t want to have to find a real parking spot. I apparently made the mistake of parking in a spot that is right across from the mailroom and the fire lane last night. As I came walking out with my mail and a package, I placed the stuff in my car as a guy was pulling up. He looked right at me, where I was parked, and left his car in the fire lane.
Well, I guess I lost my mind, I swore threw my hands in the air and got into the car. A lady in a van next to me looked at me like I was nuts. I sat there for a minute debating between waiting and trying to fit. I tried to fit while the van lady watched. She didn’t even offer to be a ground guide. I thought I had it, went back another inch and tapped his car. That caused another whole round of swearing and hand waving because now I have to go in, talk to the idiot, etc. This van lady was still just staring at me like I had completely lost (I am thinking she was quite astute).
Here’s what cracks me up and makes me embarrassed all at the same time. As I walk in to find the guy I told him, “Hey, you double parked your car. You MADE me hit your car.” Confused and somewhat pissed he asked how bad it was as we walked outside. I showed him the damage. He could rub most of it off, and could buff the other out at the auto crafts center. I just kept saying that he double parked, he saw me but he double parked and he MADE me hit his car. Finally some where in there I said I’m sorry, although it must have sounded so utterly contrived.
He left after saying everything was okay so we didn’t exchange numbers or info, but afterwards I felt kind of like a jerk. Yes he did double park and yes he stared right at me while he got out of the car knowing I probably couldn’t fit. That does make him a jerk.
I on the other hand could have waited for him or went inside and yelled at him to move his damn car, or even waited for him and then yelled at him for blocking me in. He did not make me do anything that I didn’t choose to do myself by trying to squeeze out of the spot. I am not sure what caused me to lose it. I haven’t lost my temper or became such a spaz for a long, long time. This is normally something that would cause me to roll my eyes not tell a guy how he made me back into his car.
So it appears that my patients for this deployment and people have come to a breaking point. It’s time for the hubby to come home, so I can burrow back into a cave or something and snuggle for a while.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Curses...arrrgggh!
I have been following this one baby book I picked up about four months ago. It’s a 90 day pre-conception book. It goes through all sorts of things you should take care of before trying to get pregnant. It talks about taking your prenatal vitamins, getting a physical (and the girlie one), adding foods, cutting down on foods and of course incorporate more exercise into my life. I have actually been a good girl. I‘ve been taking the prenatal vitamins for almost two months now, got the physical, got the girlie exam, got stuck with the MRI and the crazy doc saying “This is soo cool!” with his head between my legs and have been working on cutting down on the caffeine.
I stopped having a Coke every night and only have one or two during the weekends. I still drink coffee but limit it to one cup a day. I even gave up my 2-3 Redbulls a day habit. I was trekking down this path for at least a month and then this week happened!
Crap I have had more Redbulls in one week than I probably have since before I stopped drinking them. The shoppette at the barracks I work at hasn’t restocked their cold coffee drinks so I started grabbing the Redbull. Bad, bad move on my part. Not only am I drinking the damn things again but I am also noticing the excitability, irritability and that funky feeling high blood pressure can have by having too much of that stuff in my system. Oh don’t let me forget to mention the fact that I am a restless sleeper again, where the caffeine (even a cup at night) doesn’t make me lie in bed for three hours trying to drift off to sleep.
So I am back to square one on the OD’ing on Redbull. I will have to cut back and then stop drinking them (on a gradual basis) or I end up becoming worthless at work. (Make any jokes about me being worthless now and I shall bean you over your pretty little head!)
And how do people drink Redbull and vodka? That’s like a speedball…which makes me think of John Belushi.
I stopped having a Coke every night and only have one or two during the weekends. I still drink coffee but limit it to one cup a day. I even gave up my 2-3 Redbulls a day habit. I was trekking down this path for at least a month and then this week happened!
Crap I have had more Redbulls in one week than I probably have since before I stopped drinking them. The shoppette at the barracks I work at hasn’t restocked their cold coffee drinks so I started grabbing the Redbull. Bad, bad move on my part. Not only am I drinking the damn things again but I am also noticing the excitability, irritability and that funky feeling high blood pressure can have by having too much of that stuff in my system. Oh don’t let me forget to mention the fact that I am a restless sleeper again, where the caffeine (even a cup at night) doesn’t make me lie in bed for three hours trying to drift off to sleep.
So I am back to square one on the OD’ing on Redbull. I will have to cut back and then stop drinking them (on a gradual basis) or I end up becoming worthless at work. (Make any jokes about me being worthless now and I shall bean you over your pretty little head!)
And how do people drink Redbull and vodka? That’s like a speedball…which makes me think of John Belushi.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
The Story of Valentino
This isn’t the story of the famous Valentino, but the Valentino that sits on my nightstand quietly keeping watch as I sleep. Back in 1998 about six months before we were married and broke as all get out we took a vacation. A co-worker had recommended that we stay at this small cute bed and breakfast in New Brunsfels, TX. We had no idea what there was to do there but, (the idea of being somewhere other than thinking about the wedding, how the two of us were going to pay for it, and the family feuds started over the whole damn thing in the first place) it sounded like a good idea. It was only a few hours drive from Ft Hood, so after making a reservation off we went.
My co-worker was right, the place was quiet, had a small town feel and was so girly cute that even the husband was smiling at it all. The town even had a nautical museum so the man wouldn’t get so bored at all the “junk” shops there were. I even enjoyed the museum even though reading about Admiral Nimitz over and over after a while drove me crazy.
New Brunsfels has a large German population. There are several restaurants that serve German cuisine, and we decided to try one. That was my first taste of spätzle which was horrible (the real thing home made in Germany is way better!), as well as having Jäger Schnitzel. We talked about just normal life and attempted to relax. It rained that night and we could hear the rain hitting the tin roof of our room while we snuggled close until we drifted asleep, lulled by the rainfall.
The next day on our way out of New Brunsfels, we wandered through a couple more boutiques. In the middle of this display of bears was this dark red bear. His fur was long, and had large curls in it. His colouring reminded me of the blood red of a red velvet cake. He wore a small red and black checked ribbon around his neck. His head wasn’t sewn on straight and tilted a little to the side. His feet no matter how you placed them, fell to the left. The poor bear was cursed with two left feet. He looked so lonely sitting amongst all these pastel and natural coloured bears, he looked sad.
Unfortunately, he was also expensive. Our money was so tight, we were pretty much paying for the wedding ourselves and didn’t have a whole lot of money to spare. After looking at the price, I placed the bear back into the pile. I was having second thoughts, I wanted this bear, he had to come home with me. I started to negotiate with my hubby how no one would want this bear, that he would go unloved if we didn’t buy him.
Who would want a bear with two left feet and the colour of a red velvet cake? Look even his head is crooked, no one will want him and he will be sent back to the maker never to be loved. How could we leave him there all alone with all those cutesy bears and bunnies when he’s so not cute and fluffy? They might make him ill or he might eat them. Look at him, he’s looking at me with such a sad face, he wants to come home with us. Can’t he please come home with us?
Finally my silly pleading and personification of this doomed bear broke the resistance of my husband. Valentino was coming home with us, I think I even jumped up and down a little and skipped to the register. Gleefully he sat in the bag, his ears barely poking out of the top, riding next to me all the way to his new home. I gave him the name of a famous ladies man to boost his confidence, with his two left feet, his crooked head and all.
Valentino now has a wife in a pretty red dress with white sheer sleeves covered in red velvet hearts and a baby bear who’s an angel. His wings are white with red stitching. Baby bear is the same colouring as Valentino. None of them have gone a day without being loved.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
My co-worker was right, the place was quiet, had a small town feel and was so girly cute that even the husband was smiling at it all. The town even had a nautical museum so the man wouldn’t get so bored at all the “junk” shops there were. I even enjoyed the museum even though reading about Admiral Nimitz over and over after a while drove me crazy.
New Brunsfels has a large German population. There are several restaurants that serve German cuisine, and we decided to try one. That was my first taste of spätzle which was horrible (the real thing home made in Germany is way better!), as well as having Jäger Schnitzel. We talked about just normal life and attempted to relax. It rained that night and we could hear the rain hitting the tin roof of our room while we snuggled close until we drifted asleep, lulled by the rainfall.
The next day on our way out of New Brunsfels, we wandered through a couple more boutiques. In the middle of this display of bears was this dark red bear. His fur was long, and had large curls in it. His colouring reminded me of the blood red of a red velvet cake. He wore a small red and black checked ribbon around his neck. His head wasn’t sewn on straight and tilted a little to the side. His feet no matter how you placed them, fell to the left. The poor bear was cursed with two left feet. He looked so lonely sitting amongst all these pastel and natural coloured bears, he looked sad.
Unfortunately, he was also expensive. Our money was so tight, we were pretty much paying for the wedding ourselves and didn’t have a whole lot of money to spare. After looking at the price, I placed the bear back into the pile. I was having second thoughts, I wanted this bear, he had to come home with me. I started to negotiate with my hubby how no one would want this bear, that he would go unloved if we didn’t buy him.
Who would want a bear with two left feet and the colour of a red velvet cake? Look even his head is crooked, no one will want him and he will be sent back to the maker never to be loved. How could we leave him there all alone with all those cutesy bears and bunnies when he’s so not cute and fluffy? They might make him ill or he might eat them. Look at him, he’s looking at me with such a sad face, he wants to come home with us. Can’t he please come home with us?
Finally my silly pleading and personification of this doomed bear broke the resistance of my husband. Valentino was coming home with us, I think I even jumped up and down a little and skipped to the register. Gleefully he sat in the bag, his ears barely poking out of the top, riding next to me all the way to his new home. I gave him the name of a famous ladies man to boost his confidence, with his two left feet, his crooked head and all.
Valentino now has a wife in a pretty red dress with white sheer sleeves covered in red velvet hearts and a baby bear who’s an angel. His wings are white with red stitching. Baby bear is the same colouring as Valentino. None of them have gone a day without being loved.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
Monday, February 13, 2006
Not really my Valentine's day gift but...
It's still pretty darn cool. A couple of weeks ago my spouse went a carpet shopping. He's been working this one vendor for quite a while now. Finally we found a carpet for our dining room.
(click to enlarge)
It matches our chair cushions really well and it is a beautiful rug. I feel really sorry for the hubby though, because it weighs 5lbs to much for him to send via MPS. We have worked out an alternate travel plan, but the poor man had to borrow friends to help him carry it back to his hut. He's even tried to stuff it into the largest footlocker I could send him and its still an inch short.
He still found a wonderful carpet! He is a good man that's for sure.
(click to enlarge) It matches our chair cushions really well and it is a beautiful rug. I feel really sorry for the hubby though, because it weighs 5lbs to much for him to send via MPS. We have worked out an alternate travel plan, but the poor man had to borrow friends to help him carry it back to his hut. He's even tried to stuff it into the largest footlocker I could send him and its still an inch short.
He still found a wonderful carpet! He is a good man that's for sure.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Dreams of my own
It seems that Sarah and I each bought hoagies from the same place Homer did a few years back. Her dreams have been about war or something surrounding war. Quite pleasantly, I have not been plagued with any dreams of war while my spouse has been away. Thank goodness too, I really could do without them at the moment.
Instead my dreams have been just plain weird which really makes me think that maybe it is something that I am eating right before going to bed at night. All this week, I have been tired. While hubby has been deployed my sleep time has drifted. I usually hit the bed about midnight or so and get up at 0430 for work. This leaves the weekends to stay up until 0200 and get up at 1000 or so. This week my body felt otherwise. I was nodding off on Monday at 2100. So after spending the previous weekend running the satellite through the VCR and running a ton of cables all over hell, I could set the VCR and not miss the shows I was watching. Sadly, I guess this extra time left me time to dream freaky.
Monday night started out with a lucid dream of some kind. I have no idea what, all I know is that I found myself placing my hand on my chest because my heart was pounding. I said to myself "damn they shouldn't do that to people!" I have no idea who "they" were nor what the hell was done.
Later Monday, my second dream had me in the bathroom with a good friend from college. A guy was breaking up with her, she was crying and I knew that the breakup note was taped to the toilet water tank. Funny thing was the guy breaking up with her was a guy I knew in high school. These two have never met and are not each others type. My dream ends at me hugging my crying friend with the open note in her hand.
Tuesday gave me the creepy dream. I was dressed in gym clothes, sitting on the couch of the gym reading the brochure. Their two claim to fames were that they were the first "L" shaped gym. You could stand with your partner back to back and see down to each side of the gym. The second claim to fame was the Cheryl Crow sang there amongst the Nautilus equipment. They had a photo in the brochure, Cheryl with her eyes closed, mouth open in song, hand poised over the guitar strings strumming.
Next thing I know a little girl is talking to me and saying something very medical. I look down and my right knee and left lower thigh are tore up. Just think of the dead but not dead priates in the Pirates of the Carribean. This mess apparently had no effect on me living and didn't bother me a bit either. The dream then switches to a town I grew up next to, I was about to cross the street but instead of pushing the yellow box to change the walk sign, I used a key to open it and pulled out a gym bag and gym clothes. Then I was woken by my alarm clock.
Wednesday's dream was just strange. I was living in the house of my best friend in high school. I apparently needed a bodyguard and this guy looked dead on for my boyfriend in college - Gil. Don't even ask me but some how I knew that it wasn't him, just that it looked like him except taller and older in the eyes. He was mooning over me, following me around the house. When he tried to kiss me, I asked him what the hell did he try that for. His response was that he wanted me to which I replied "So?" I walked away from him and towards my partner who was walking in the door. My darling was Lionel Richie! I woke up hugging my pillow.
Thursday I didn't dream and Friday's I can't remember anymore other than it was just as strange as earlier in the week. Saturday night was game night at the neighbors and the only abuse I had was being beat several times by my neighbors and hurtling insults back at them. I think maybe the Bailey's I drank before bed helped me to have nothing but quiet, forgetable dreams as I didn't remember dreaming about anything today.
Even with all this time sleeping, I have never felft more tired, and drained. It seems I should just go back to the 4 hours a night of sleep if not to stave off having another dream where Lionel Richie is my boyfriend!
Instead my dreams have been just plain weird which really makes me think that maybe it is something that I am eating right before going to bed at night. All this week, I have been tired. While hubby has been deployed my sleep time has drifted. I usually hit the bed about midnight or so and get up at 0430 for work. This leaves the weekends to stay up until 0200 and get up at 1000 or so. This week my body felt otherwise. I was nodding off on Monday at 2100. So after spending the previous weekend running the satellite through the VCR and running a ton of cables all over hell, I could set the VCR and not miss the shows I was watching. Sadly, I guess this extra time left me time to dream freaky.
Monday night started out with a lucid dream of some kind. I have no idea what, all I know is that I found myself placing my hand on my chest because my heart was pounding. I said to myself "damn they shouldn't do that to people!" I have no idea who "they" were nor what the hell was done.
Later Monday, my second dream had me in the bathroom with a good friend from college. A guy was breaking up with her, she was crying and I knew that the breakup note was taped to the toilet water tank. Funny thing was the guy breaking up with her was a guy I knew in high school. These two have never met and are not each others type. My dream ends at me hugging my crying friend with the open note in her hand.
Tuesday gave me the creepy dream. I was dressed in gym clothes, sitting on the couch of the gym reading the brochure. Their two claim to fames were that they were the first "L" shaped gym. You could stand with your partner back to back and see down to each side of the gym. The second claim to fame was the Cheryl Crow sang there amongst the Nautilus equipment. They had a photo in the brochure, Cheryl with her eyes closed, mouth open in song, hand poised over the guitar strings strumming.
Next thing I know a little girl is talking to me and saying something very medical. I look down and my right knee and left lower thigh are tore up. Just think of the dead but not dead priates in the Pirates of the Carribean. This mess apparently had no effect on me living and didn't bother me a bit either. The dream then switches to a town I grew up next to, I was about to cross the street but instead of pushing the yellow box to change the walk sign, I used a key to open it and pulled out a gym bag and gym clothes. Then I was woken by my alarm clock.
Wednesday's dream was just strange. I was living in the house of my best friend in high school. I apparently needed a bodyguard and this guy looked dead on for my boyfriend in college - Gil. Don't even ask me but some how I knew that it wasn't him, just that it looked like him except taller and older in the eyes. He was mooning over me, following me around the house. When he tried to kiss me, I asked him what the hell did he try that for. His response was that he wanted me to which I replied "So?" I walked away from him and towards my partner who was walking in the door. My darling was Lionel Richie! I woke up hugging my pillow.
Thursday I didn't dream and Friday's I can't remember anymore other than it was just as strange as earlier in the week. Saturday night was game night at the neighbors and the only abuse I had was being beat several times by my neighbors and hurtling insults back at them. I think maybe the Bailey's I drank before bed helped me to have nothing but quiet, forgetable dreams as I didn't remember dreaming about anything today.
Even with all this time sleeping, I have never felft more tired, and drained. It seems I should just go back to the 4 hours a night of sleep if not to stave off having another dream where Lionel Richie is my boyfriend!
Friday, February 10, 2006
I want what he's having....
Apparently Maj D has found himself the coffee bar at his interim travel location or has arrived home (okay Germany) and has had a chance to partake in a beer or two. He’s in quite the good humor in his response to my worry about a spouse talking about travel dates on the return of my husband’s unit:
Well, let's clear this up then. It's 34 days from the BOG date which incidentally stands for Big Orange Pumpkin, but it will probably be something more like 23.4 days plus or 1.7 days based on the meteorological algorithm but that has to be converted to Greenwich Mean Time and adjusted for the Borealis effect. Throw in 3.2 days for customs inspections pre-flight briefings and time reserved for the Air Force Pax terminal workers to smile smugly and piss you off then subtract 2.1 days if you happen to have an Air Force O5 or above flying with you on Space A. Of course this doesn't include the mandatory .375 phases of the moon wait at that Purgatory in K'stan and all of this is subject to the whim of the Evil Flight Planning Voo Doo Witch Doctor.
His silly (but much appreciated) response made me just about spit out my coffee which is bad if you deny me my caffeine, but it is a great reminder that yes indeedy my spouse will be home soon. So while Brian is snuggling his wife and kiddos or just his Hefeweizen (until the wife can get there) at the Short’s place, I am making offerings to the gods that the Evil Flight Planning Voo Doo Witch Doctor gets a serious bellyache right around the time my hubby is due to fly; thus, giving up his plans to keep my spouse in purgatory for too long.
Congrats on being so close to home Maj D & continue to fly safe if your travels aren’t complete yet. If your spouse is meeting you in Germany, I would be happy to take the two of you out to dinner & a beer (I think we live pretty close to each other). Godspeed!
Well, let's clear this up then. It's 34 days from the BOG date which incidentally stands for Big Orange Pumpkin, but it will probably be something more like 23.4 days plus or 1.7 days based on the meteorological algorithm but that has to be converted to Greenwich Mean Time and adjusted for the Borealis effect. Throw in 3.2 days for customs inspections pre-flight briefings and time reserved for the Air Force Pax terminal workers to smile smugly and piss you off then subtract 2.1 days if you happen to have an Air Force O5 or above flying with you on Space A. Of course this doesn't include the mandatory .375 phases of the moon wait at that Purgatory in K'stan and all of this is subject to the whim of the Evil Flight Planning Voo Doo Witch Doctor.
His silly (but much appreciated) response made me just about spit out my coffee which is bad if you deny me my caffeine, but it is a great reminder that yes indeedy my spouse will be home soon. So while Brian is snuggling his wife and kiddos or just his Hefeweizen (until the wife can get there) at the Short’s place, I am making offerings to the gods that the Evil Flight Planning Voo Doo Witch Doctor gets a serious bellyache right around the time my hubby is due to fly; thus, giving up his plans to keep my spouse in purgatory for too long.
Congrats on being so close to home Maj D & continue to fly safe if your travels aren’t complete yet. If your spouse is meeting you in Germany, I would be happy to take the two of you out to dinner & a beer (I think we live pretty close to each other). Godspeed!
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Yesterday's MRI
Miss Cole said I was mean for showing pictures instead of talking about my MRI yesterday. Honestly the photos were much more eventful than the test. So here is goes…
A MRI is basically a giant magnet for those that don’t know and the pictures of your internal organs it can take are pretty cool. I have had 4 (now) of these in my lifetime. The first one was not fun for me since I am claustrophobic. I was having (and still do at times) horrid migraines. My doc wanted to check out my melon, but I had to go head first into a little donut looking machine. Not only did they sedate me, but they let my spouse hold my feet while I spent twenty minutes singing songs in my head trying to keep from freaking.
Yesterday’s MRI was just like my first. I tried to get them to stick me in feet first but since they needed a picture of my pelvic region, I had to go head first. I was by myself and couldn’t take a sedative. Thank you so much for the last four years of karate. Yeah, yeah make all the jokes you want but using breathing techniques and running the forms through my mind I didn’t get the chance to have an anxiety attack!
The only good thing out of this was my view. I went into the donut with a civilian tech that was very sweet and keyed in on me asking exactly where the panic button was and used every trick in the book to use soothing terms (but was not a looker). What was even better was ¾ of the way done, I had to come out and get shot up with contrast. I kept my eyes closed the whole time so I couldn’t see how small a space I was in. When I came out for the contrast I had a new tech and man he was a hottie! I didn’t even mind the needle (okay I snorted hard because the stuff stung). I also got to see him again when the test was finished and they unstrapped me from the table. I had some kind of guard that went over my pelvis, I assume to use as a guide for where to aim the scanner.
As I wandered out a soldier in the same lovely gown as I gave a weak, embarrassed smile as we passed each other trying to keep our backs to our respective walls so no one saw our underwear. I had to say something so we both ended up saying good morning to each other. Unfortunately because it was busy I couldn’t ask to see my images, but I did see that they were taking images of that soldier’s melon. Kind of cool to see but of course I got shooed away since it wasn’t my stuff (understandable of course).
So other than running around showing off my underwear, and the reminder that I really miss my husband because the Radiology Tech was looking really hot, I have no answers. See I told you the photos were more interesting than this.
A MRI is basically a giant magnet for those that don’t know and the pictures of your internal organs it can take are pretty cool. I have had 4 (now) of these in my lifetime. The first one was not fun for me since I am claustrophobic. I was having (and still do at times) horrid migraines. My doc wanted to check out my melon, but I had to go head first into a little donut looking machine. Not only did they sedate me, but they let my spouse hold my feet while I spent twenty minutes singing songs in my head trying to keep from freaking.
Yesterday’s MRI was just like my first. I tried to get them to stick me in feet first but since they needed a picture of my pelvic region, I had to go head first. I was by myself and couldn’t take a sedative. Thank you so much for the last four years of karate. Yeah, yeah make all the jokes you want but using breathing techniques and running the forms through my mind I didn’t get the chance to have an anxiety attack!
The only good thing out of this was my view. I went into the donut with a civilian tech that was very sweet and keyed in on me asking exactly where the panic button was and used every trick in the book to use soothing terms (but was not a looker). What was even better was ¾ of the way done, I had to come out and get shot up with contrast. I kept my eyes closed the whole time so I couldn’t see how small a space I was in. When I came out for the contrast I had a new tech and man he was a hottie! I didn’t even mind the needle (okay I snorted hard because the stuff stung). I also got to see him again when the test was finished and they unstrapped me from the table. I had some kind of guard that went over my pelvis, I assume to use as a guide for where to aim the scanner.
As I wandered out a soldier in the same lovely gown as I gave a weak, embarrassed smile as we passed each other trying to keep our backs to our respective walls so no one saw our underwear. I had to say something so we both ended up saying good morning to each other. Unfortunately because it was busy I couldn’t ask to see my images, but I did see that they were taking images of that soldier’s melon. Kind of cool to see but of course I got shooed away since it wasn’t my stuff (understandable of course).
So other than running around showing off my underwear, and the reminder that I really miss my husband because the Radiology Tech was looking really hot, I have no answers. See I told you the photos were more interesting than this.
How about some photos?
Before I went on about my MRI I thought I'd share some photos instead. I loved this photo of a woman in Tanzinia. All the contrasts even so dark made for a nice composition.
This photo was promised almost a year ago when my hubby first deployed. Since I passed out goodie bags I got to be where spouses normally aren't. I cropped the photo a little to cut out some things that migt give away who they were. I just found this so humorous that this poor guy must like to sleep on his belly. This is the only way he could and still have control of his weapon. It's cute to me, I bet he wouldn't say the same!
MsLauren has been musing about spring and sharing some of her photos of it. She's all digital and her photos kick my behind a good majority of the time. Anywho, I took this photo to show my spouse. He was upset that I had planted these but he would miss them when they bloomed last spring. I love planting bulbs, and do it at every place we have ever lived.
This last one is for the momma to be at An Army Wife's Life. Apparently she and I have the same taste in TV. This is James Marsters & David Boreanz Spike & Angel the two vamps in Buffy's life. I was so desperate to do something that required English that I went to a "geek" convention in London about two years ago. So here's a little eyecandy since we both agree Spike was the better looking vamp!
This photo was promised almost a year ago when my hubby first deployed. Since I passed out goodie bags I got to be where spouses normally aren't. I cropped the photo a little to cut out some things that migt give away who they were. I just found this so humorous that this poor guy must like to sleep on his belly. This is the only way he could and still have control of his weapon. It's cute to me, I bet he wouldn't say the same!
MsLauren has been musing about spring and sharing some of her photos of it. She's all digital and her photos kick my behind a good majority of the time. Anywho, I took this photo to show my spouse. He was upset that I had planted these but he would miss them when they bloomed last spring. I love planting bulbs, and do it at every place we have ever lived.
This last one is for the momma to be at An Army Wife's Life. Apparently she and I have the same taste in TV. This is James Marsters & David Boreanz Spike & Angel the two vamps in Buffy's life. I was so desperate to do something that required English that I went to a "geek" convention in London about two years ago. So here's a little eyecandy since we both agree Spike was the better looking vamp!
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Blogger is ticking me off
I wanted to use this photo as my profile icon, but I can't get it below the 50k limit. So instead take look at my abilities as a photographer. This was the head lioness, I have some other photos of her playing around with a cub. Well, actually the cub was playing around with her and she straight up told him to buzz off. You don't even know how big a zoom I had for this camera.
My only shame was I used a new filter which required manipulation (I didn't know). Some photos came out a little dark. I was pissed, because nothing in the the description nor directions told me I needed to mess with the filter while shooting.
Oh well I still like most of the photos and with a little help from some photo editors I can clear up the darkness.
Here's where momma said no!
My only shame was I used a new filter which required manipulation (I didn't know). Some photos came out a little dark. I was pissed, because nothing in the the description nor directions told me I needed to mess with the filter while shooting.
Oh well I still like most of the photos and with a little help from some photo editors I can clear up the darkness.
Here's where momma said no!
Monday, February 06, 2006
There is always one of them no matter where you go
This is so true there is one of them every where you go. At the last VTC this weekend I was running a tad late. I got there with two minutes before my show time. While waiting in the hall another spouse, the FRG Assistant for the unit and I were talking. The spouse asks me with a big grin on her face, “How many days left?” I tell her 43 days. She says “Oh no it’s (blank) days left.” I screw up my face confused, thinking maybe her spouse went in the advanced party. Well its 43 days from the BOG date, I say. Not trying to argue but letting her know where the date came from. Then I get the speech, “Oh well its actually (blank) days because my spouse said they were leaving on the (blank) and then they will be traveling through (Blank) before coming home.” I tried to just let it roll and said “Oh okay well that’s cool.”
You should have seen the FRA’s face. She was livid and I don’t blame her. She properly mentioned that dates will change and then mentioned that the advanced party was more like what she was talking about on dates. The spouse then told her, “Oh no I am not talking about them. In fact they are leaving on (blank) and are set to arrive on (blank).” The FRA when a little pale.
Yes I am a little jealous that her spouse told her the specific dates of when they would be coming home, but then again I know all too well that those dates can change. I know that they could get stuck some where due to aircraft maintenance, weather, etc. I know that he will be home when he is able to be home. I am patiently waiting for that day to arrive and for our life to get back to a little bit of normal so we can screw it all up by getting pregnant.
I also know jealousy aside that they are violating OPSEC, and are putting folks in needless danger. He shouldn’t haven given her a specific date. Email, telephone calls, IMs and VTCs aren’t safe and can be intercepted. Now she may only be saying this information to people within the unit, but still what if she slips? What if it is said while standing in line at Walmart and some terrorist overhears it?
I know people are excited to have their spouses home, I am not the only one that feels this way. We just have to remember (service member included) not to give out so much information that you put people at risk. I wouldn’t intentionally put your spouse at risk by demanding this information and spreading it around and I request that you do the same.
You should have seen the FRA’s face. She was livid and I don’t blame her. She properly mentioned that dates will change and then mentioned that the advanced party was more like what she was talking about on dates. The spouse then told her, “Oh no I am not talking about them. In fact they are leaving on (blank) and are set to arrive on (blank).” The FRA when a little pale.
Yes I am a little jealous that her spouse told her the specific dates of when they would be coming home, but then again I know all too well that those dates can change. I know that they could get stuck some where due to aircraft maintenance, weather, etc. I know that he will be home when he is able to be home. I am patiently waiting for that day to arrive and for our life to get back to a little bit of normal so we can screw it all up by getting pregnant.
I also know jealousy aside that they are violating OPSEC, and are putting folks in needless danger. He shouldn’t haven given her a specific date. Email, telephone calls, IMs and VTCs aren’t safe and can be intercepted. Now she may only be saying this information to people within the unit, but still what if she slips? What if it is said while standing in line at Walmart and some terrorist overhears it?
I know people are excited to have their spouses home, I am not the only one that feels this way. We just have to remember (service member included) not to give out so much information that you put people at risk. I wouldn’t intentionally put your spouse at risk by demanding this information and spreading it around and I request that you do the same.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Reality is upon us
Man, oh man it really hit home last night that my husband will be home soon. Last night I attended a special reintegration FRG meeting. There was a speaker from ACS about the psychological problems that can occur when your spouse first comes home, as well at the Chaplin who talked about our resources available should we notice the signs of PTSD.
As I sat there listening to the ACS speaker I sort of had to laugh a little. Maybe I understand human nature or should have been a psych major in college because, 99.9% of things she was saying I already knew. I had to restrain myself from playing with the baby staring at me from the row in front of me so that it didn’t appear like I wasn’t listening. I am listening but I have found that my learning style is the most annoying (to the instructor) of all the learning styles because I need to “fidget” while listening. Yep, I learn better while I doodle, play with playdough, or squish a stressball. Now you see where the annoying part comes in, it can really distract an instructor or make them feel insulted if they think you aren’t paying attention.
Honestly it got a little boring. I know not to expect too much from him on the first day back. I know my routine will need to be adjusted, that I will trip over his boots in the hallway, share the cable TV, and fight over the covers in bed. We both know that we will test the waters to see where we are in the stages of intimacy, and not push each other into anything.
We also know how to communicate pretty well with each other. During R&R I let him know about the changes that took place in the house, such as leaving nothing in the sink the day the cleaning lady comes. I also showed him what I had done with the bills and budget, and tried to maintain his process that he uses to track our budgeting. In general I also just gave him space. This gave us a chance to mesh our routines together and get used to each other. We both sought out each others company and asked for space when we needed it without giving or feeling guilty about it.
These things all seem like common sense to me, so why do some people act like this was the first time they had ever heard of or even thought of these things? Maybe I am just lucky that my family and my spouse are people that foster good communication with me. Maybe I just talk to damn much and I think that people are hearing me? I guess I just am having a hard time understanding why some folks don’t get what appear to be the simplest tasks. But then this thought makes me feel like a conceited arse. I am not better than anyone else and I am sure that there are things that they could do or know about that I couldn’t even fathom. I guess I feel guilty over understanding how this kind of stuff works.
Anyways, redeployment is on the horizon. In fact it is so close that I could taste it, touch it and give it a good spank. Not much longer now and I can complain all I want about how he makes the damn bed to hot to sleep in and steal the covers when he least expects it.
As I sat there listening to the ACS speaker I sort of had to laugh a little. Maybe I understand human nature or should have been a psych major in college because, 99.9% of things she was saying I already knew. I had to restrain myself from playing with the baby staring at me from the row in front of me so that it didn’t appear like I wasn’t listening. I am listening but I have found that my learning style is the most annoying (to the instructor) of all the learning styles because I need to “fidget” while listening. Yep, I learn better while I doodle, play with playdough, or squish a stressball. Now you see where the annoying part comes in, it can really distract an instructor or make them feel insulted if they think you aren’t paying attention.
Honestly it got a little boring. I know not to expect too much from him on the first day back. I know my routine will need to be adjusted, that I will trip over his boots in the hallway, share the cable TV, and fight over the covers in bed. We both know that we will test the waters to see where we are in the stages of intimacy, and not push each other into anything.
We also know how to communicate pretty well with each other. During R&R I let him know about the changes that took place in the house, such as leaving nothing in the sink the day the cleaning lady comes. I also showed him what I had done with the bills and budget, and tried to maintain his process that he uses to track our budgeting. In general I also just gave him space. This gave us a chance to mesh our routines together and get used to each other. We both sought out each others company and asked for space when we needed it without giving or feeling guilty about it.
These things all seem like common sense to me, so why do some people act like this was the first time they had ever heard of or even thought of these things? Maybe I am just lucky that my family and my spouse are people that foster good communication with me. Maybe I just talk to damn much and I think that people are hearing me? I guess I just am having a hard time understanding why some folks don’t get what appear to be the simplest tasks. But then this thought makes me feel like a conceited arse. I am not better than anyone else and I am sure that there are things that they could do or know about that I couldn’t even fathom. I guess I feel guilty over understanding how this kind of stuff works.
Anyways, redeployment is on the horizon. In fact it is so close that I could taste it, touch it and give it a good spank. Not much longer now and I can complain all I want about how he makes the damn bed to hot to sleep in and steal the covers when he least expects it.
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