CHILDCARE!!!

Found this gem on Craigslist this morning. If anyone is looking for a childcare provider who sounds uber responsible and mature, maybe this is for you:

(Please note, however that if you have only one child, it's a great deal, a mere $15 per day, but for multiples the price jumps to $110)

CHILDCARE!!!

"hi and thank u for reading my post. I am looking to babysit a few kids in my home. I have LOTS of experience with children. Ive babysat my little sister, nephews, friends children, friends kids and so on. Ive also been babysitting since I was about 10 years old. I know some people are charging $5 an hour. But my cost for 5 days is $100. Not sure for weekends but if you needed someone to watch your children id only charge 15 for the whole day. If you have more then 1 child the price will b 110. Infants- you must bring diapers, forumla, and a change of cloths. toddlers i will provide lunch and snakes (depending on the time in the morning breakfast) If you have any questions feel free to email me! thanks again for reading & ahve a great day"

There are just not enough good things to say about this ad. I’m especially impressed at her ability to capitalize and punctuate. Her spelling is marvelous and it’s very creative to use “u” instead of you in her ad, it really gets one’s attention. I’ll admit that I’m a bit concerned about her providing the children snakes, but of course, that all depends on the time in the morning breakfast.

DITY Move: The U-Haul Horror Story

One of the perks of being in the Army is the moving service. The Army makes you move, so they also move your things, which is awesome, but even better is moving your stuff yourself. Yep, that’s right, because the Army will actually pay you a percentage of what they’d have paid a moving company. This is called a DITY move, and we will never do it again, according to hubby.

Our first step was to rent the trailer, which meant we had to answer questions like how much my truck could tow (about 4,000lbs), what kind of hitch it had (none at the time, $40 later we had one), and which size trailer we wanted. We rented the largest trailer U-Haul would give us. Hubby had to leave before I could, so our plan was that he would take the trailer, the dog and the truck to Kansas while I spent my last few nights with my best friend, then I’d take the car and join him in Kansas.

Hubby is a talented guy, he’s smarter than anyone I’ve ever known and I think he can do anything. He was not, however, raised pulling trailers; there just aren’t many reasons to in the city, so this is not one of his finely tuned skills.

Normally it takes less than 8 hours from point A to point B, but towing that trailer hubby had to stay under 60. This put him arriving at the entry gate around 11:30 that night. Anyone who had just driven all day and night through the worst part of Colorado and the worst part of Kansas with a drooling dog and a trailer would be more than ready to call it a day, so you can imagine his disappointment when the gate was closed. There are multiple entryways onto the post, but only one is open 24/7, and the one he was directed to wasn’t that one. Almost an hour later, my inexperienced-trailer-driver hubby finally finished backing the truck/trailer over the bridge and back onto the main road.

When 1:30AM rolled around, hubby was checked into the hotel, but still had to do something about the trailer. It would have to stay in the parking lot for almost a week, and there were no pull-through spots, only single spaces. Hubby could either A) Park across 5 or 6 spaces and make everyone hate him, or B) Back the trailer into a spot, remove it and leave it there until the time came to hook it back up and take it to our new home. He went with option B.

Putting the trailer on the truck was easy when he rented it; he lifted it with just the help of an older gentleman. But 3,600lbs later, he and Justin had a hard time removing it, and when they finally did, it proceeded to roll out into the parking lot. Since they couldn’t just leave it there and it was now almost 2am, they decided to hook it back on the hitch and just take up as many spots as they needed, no longer were they concerned for the other guests, they just wanted some sleep.

Heads up if you ever want to try this: a full trailer is hard to get back on a hitch.

The boys grunted and sweat as they tried to lift the U-Haul. Justin had a car jack, but it buckled under the weight of all our belongings in the trailer. It flew across the parking lot, bent and broken. Somehow, I don’t know how, they finally managed to lift that thing up onto the hitch (WOW), it wasn’t entirely on, but it was enough. They reconnected the chains and called it a night.

A week passed and our land lord cleared out the garage in our new home so we could drop our things off and return the trailer (The current renters were still in the process of moving out). We drove our things to our new home (!!), ordered a pizza and enjoyed some beers with friends who came to help us empty our boxes. We finally said goodbye and see-you-soon to our new house and began the trip to U-Haul to rid ourselves of the trailer hubby now despised.

While the trailer was not quite properly attached to the truck since the night in the parking lot, there hadn’t been any problems on the 15 mile drive over; we assume it was because the weight was so much that little bumps didn’t move it around too much. Sans-our-stuff, it was much lighter. On the way to the U-Haul lot, something jolted the trailer right off the hitch, and in the rearview we watched it swaying across the highway, sparks flying! Thankfully, Justin was right behind us and quickly helped hubby take control of the situation. With the trailer empty, thus easier to lift, and properly attached, we continued on to drop the DA^M thing off.

The girl at the desk told us to leave the trailer anywhere there was room, only problem was, there wasn’t any room, at least not enough to back a truck and trailer into. We decided we would back in as far as we could, remove the trailer (because a light trailer is much easier to move) and guide it into the space. We unhooked the chains, lifted, and began leading it towards the place we could finally leave it.

The trailer started picking up speed.

Because we were on a hill.

We held on, we pulled, it was no use. Hubby let go, I sat down, hoping to stop it (Why did I think that would help?), Hubby yelled for me to just let go, too. We watched in horror as it gained speed, headed right for a blue house across the alley….

Thank God it stopped. There must have been an incline at the end of that alley, because the trailer didn’t reach it. I, still sitting on the ground, laid back and laughed. I laughed like I hadn’t laughed in a long time. Hubby didn’t think it was quite so funny, but when you watch a trailer that has caused nothing but problems roll down a hill, surely to crash into someone’s home, there’s really nothing you CAN do but laugh.

A year has almost passed, and now Hubby can chuckle when we talk about it, but you can be sure, no matter what they Army offers to pay us, there’s no way he’s ever going to do a DITY move again!

Solitaire and My Personal form of Voyeurism

When I play solitaire, for as long as I’ve played solitaire (since early childhood), I’ve had to arrange the stacks like this, from left to right:

Hearts, Diamonds, Puppy-Feet, Spades. (Puppy feet sounds way cooler than Clubs).

If someone gets out of order (I also personify everything, by the way) I will use the undo button, or even pull cards down, back into play, so I can rearrange, even though this deducts from my score (Especially when you have to bring cards back down… ouch). Heaven forbid it being too late to fix the problem when I notice. That means I have to end the game and start over.

A few more quirks:

I have to chomp my teeth twice, big exaggerated chomps, after brushing my teeth.

I am highly secretive about trimming my nails. My preferred time to execute this task is when I’m home alone, however, under emergency circumstances, I can clip in the master bathroom with the door closed and ventilation fan on (But only if our bedroom door is also closed and hubby is downstairs).

My personal form of voyeurism is watching hubby trim his nails. :)

Certain sounds make my ears feel like they are bleeding, worse than nails on a chalkboard: “The Reason” by Hoopastank, Sun Chips new packaging and our bedroom fan on the high setting. I also can't stand the sound of people chewing their food.

If I’m eating Nachos, I’m also having M&Ms to go with them (Or CRAVING them, if there are none around). I think this is the best taste combo pretty much ever. No. I’m not pregnant. And

When brushing my teeth with a regular toothbrush I brush each area in 32 times, in counts of 8. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, repeat 4 times, move to next area. (Hubby and I recently switched to electric, so I don’t have to do this anymore),

No matter what the temperature, I can’t sleep unless I’m under a blanket (something more substantial than a sheet), with one leg outside the covers.

Skittles and Jolly Ranchers always give me the hiccups.

I don’t like pancakes with syrup, I prefer them dipped in over-easy egg. This grosses hubby out.

Fish scare the $hit out of me. We actually have one now, Lt. Shiny Sides, but only after months and months of “exposure therapy” with hubby. (And there are not one, but two lids on his tank). Most of my nightmares are of walking down a narrow aisle lined to the ceiling with tanks of fish, who start jumping out and onto the floor in front of me… *Shivers just thinking about it*

Sox vs Yankees

This was one of the new images shared on Sunday’s PostSecret.

I married a Catholic. I changed religions to get hitched to this guy.

But a Yankees fan?

No. F’ing. Way.

Just for the record, hubby and I are BOTH Colorado Rockies fans. That’s how we met, and if they hadn’t gone to the World Series in 2007, we never would have been where we are today…

::aw, yeah, that's totally sappy::

Moo!

Since marrying a man who loves to eat, the chef in me has emerged. Being single meant my meals were mostly made up of raisin bran cereal or canned green beans with garlic powder, no need to cook an entrée, side and dessert for one, but now I’m a regular Paula Dean.
Know what else has emerged? An extra 25 pounds. Yikes.

It’s not simply the change in diet, but my exercise routine has changed dramatically in the last 18 months. I used to run, visit the gym where I held a membership and I was an avid hiker. In the winters, I cross country skied with my dog. I’ve got a knee injury now that leaves me popping pain meds and wearing a big blue knee brace that makes me look uber-sexy.

So the thing is, I am not skinny but I’m not morbidly obese either. I’m somewhere in the middle, with a few extra pounds around my middle (Why can’t move UP my body a little… Like, to say, my boob area?). I may have some chub, but I take care of myself; I dress nicely and make sure my hair and makeup are done before I leave the house.

Remember I said we were going to St. Louis? Well, by the time hubby and I reached the area where he was going to camp with his friends on Friday night it was past 10 o’clock, I’d been up since 4:30 that morning and we’d been driving for 7 hours. To top it off, we’d had to run a few last minute errands, which meant walking around multiple parking lots in the pouring rain. I wasn’t looking my snazziest, but I couldn’t believe what happened when we pulled up and I got out of the car to help unload.

(Let me mention real quick that the “men” I will refer to now are NOT hubby’s buddies. They are acquaintances of hubby’s buddies. Hubby’s buddies are good guys, and I enjoy seeing them.)

Since this was a guys’ drinking night, I wasn’t entirely shocked or horrified when the comments started, “Hey, we got some PU$$Y here,” made me embarrassed, but I quickly went to infuriated when they started MOOING at me. Yes, mooing.

Hubby didn’t hear any of this going on, he was catching up with his friend, finding out which tent to put his stuff in, etc. If he had heard it, A$$ES would have been kicked.

I thought about kicking some A$$ myself (And since I’m such a large girl, I probably could have, right?), I thought about exchanging some words, or maybe a good old middle finger. But in the end, I decided to not even turn to look at them, I held my head high, helped unload a few things, and cheerfully wished hubby’s friends a good time before I left.

I then cried the whole way to 7-11 to purchase some Jalapeño and cream cheese taquitos, because, OMG those are dee-lish. Yes, I probably should have gone and thrown up anything I had eaten that day. I should have done 100 crunches and another 100 sit ups. But hey, that’s not nearly as comforting. Sadly, just when I thought my night was at rock bottom, the 7-11 clerk informed me that they pulled that flavor of taquitos from the shelves mere weeks ago. Since those are the only ones I liked (Loved, actually. Those things were freakin’ amazing), I got back in the car and cried all the way to Wal-Mart where I purchased a 6 pack of Sangria.

Note: Don’t ever, ever buy Sangria in a 6-pack. Especially from Wal-Mart…

I told hubby later about the guys. He said he wished he’d heard them, he wished he could have done something, he was furious. He told me I’m beautiful, he told me he loves me and he told me he wouldn’t change a single thing about me. Maybe he’s lying, but I choose to believe he was telling the truth. I have such a wonderful hubby.

Will I work harder now to get back in shape? Probably. Will I let the mooing get to me? Truthfully: probably.

This makes me think of scene from the movie “Weather Man” where a little girl and her father, out clothes shopping, are having a conversation about comments from her classmates, calling her camel toe (If you don’t get this reference, Google it). Dad asks why she thinks they call her this:
She answers:

“ Because, camel toes are tough. They can walk all over the desert and all the hot rocks. I'm tough. “

Cows are my favorite animals anyway, and who doesn’t like a good NY Strip Steak (Except me. I’m a vegetarian)? They probably meant it as a compliment. Thanks, boys! :-)

Mormoncy

I was raised protestant, started spending time in the Baptist church as a teen, eventually I got sick of the whole idea of organized religion. I love God, I believe there is a creator and I’m certain there is more to life than this, but I am not, nor do I like “Bible-thumpers”, or as hubby refers to them as, Too Protestant to Function (“Too P to F”). I got tired of people telling me I was going to hell for piercing my ears and discouraging me from inviting “unholy” people to youth nights. Sadly, many churches (of all faiths) are full of judgmental hypocrites, so I just stopped going for a while.

Hubby pulled me out of my religious slump when I started going to Catholic Mass with him (voluntarily, he never pressured me). I converted last year, now we are both Roman Catholic and proud of it, but we don’t ever bash people over the head with it, either.

This post is not to say that I think Catholics are perfect or any better than any other string of Christianity (or other religions) but it’s a better fit for me. I like the kneeling, the structure of Mass and the general vibe that’s there. I also love the churches buildings, the way the Priest sings, the incense, the candles, and the other formal traditions. I’m relieved that there is no 15-minute meet and greet where everyone out of their seats to chit-chat in the middle of the service, and I love that in the 18 months I’ve been going to Mass, no one has ever asked me if I’ve “felt the Holy Spirit” that day. I think it’s cool that people mind their own business.

(For the record, the one major thing I’m not into is the treatment of Priests who are found to be molesting children. They need the ultimate punishment. I am embarrassed by the slap on the wrist treatment they get. If it was up to me things would play out quite differently….)

Catholicism isn’t for everyone but it works for me. I don’t believe that you have to be a Catholic, or a Baptist or a Protestant, or even a type of Christina, to go to Heaven. This is something of a new concept to me, since growing up I was taught that if you weren’t a member of my particular church, you weren’t going anywhere good. I regret being so closed minded, but am happy to say I’ve come a long way.

In my changing ideas of religion and acceptance, I’ve become very interested in Mormons. I don’t really know why I’m drawn to them, but something about them is intriguing. I’ve done some reading and I follow a few blogs written by real-life Mormons. I don’t mean to imply that I plan to convert, or that I necessarily agree with their beliefs or practices, I simply find it interesting. Plus, I’d never actually MET a Mormon before, which fueled my fascination even more.

I was quite excited a few months ago to learn that my husband’s Platoon Sergeant is a real live Mormon, with a Mormon wife, and Mormon children! Even better, we were having them over for supper the following week! I couldn’t wait to ask them about their Mormoncy (Which I KNOW is not the correct term; I was just so excited it slipped)! Hubby persuaded me to not bombard them, or make them uncomfortable, but perhaps a few polite questions would be appropriate. We had a wonderful visit, but sadly, the conversation never led us to religion, and I am way too shy to have simply come out and asked about it. We’ve seen them since, but again, the opportunity never presented itself. If only I wasn’t so freakin’ hesitant to ask my questions!
I can obviously find the basics anywhere, but I want to know what life is really like as a Mormon. What is it like to live as a polygamist? For the more mainstream Mormons, how to you decide what practices to strictly follow, and which are more like guidelines (Rated R movies, caffeine, etc.)?

If I, as a Catholic, followed all the rules, I would opt for Natural Family Planning as my method of birth control, pray for those in purgatory and fast on Fridays. I don’t do those things; most Catholics don’t do all the Catholic things we’re supposed to. So what is it really like to be a Mormon?

A Day in the Life of Lady Fromage

5AM: Alarm goes off. Dreaming that hubby is a professor traveling to grade schools to talk about astronomy and marine life. He’s running late for a presentation for a 1st grade class to discuss sharks. Hit snooze. I accidently kick our new kitten, Toby, who is at my feet underneath the covers.

So tired. Hubby and I were up late… Use your imagination. Made my way downstairs, greeted by the dogs, who believe it is absolutely time to get up when mom comes into the kitchen, whether it’s at 1:00am, or 5:00am, they go nuts.

Notice Allison, our black rat, has escaped the cage again. We recently obtained for them what was supposed to be a small ferret cage, but it is actually almost as large as our dog kennel -appropriate for dogs up to 100lbs… Allison is ready to go “home” and see her sister, Holly.

Return Allison to her cage.

After wrangling the animals, in the short amount of time while hubby is shaving and dressing, I make 2 lunches - 2 sandwiches, 2 bags of chips, 2 desserts, 2 snacks. Breakfast, 2 granola bars. Spill a whole tray of ice cubes on the floor. Can’t find his Nalgene bottle, it’s in the car… I go out to the driveway in nothing but a short, spaghetti strap nightgown. Since it’s 5AM, I don’t worry about being seen. Oops. Our neighbor is in the Army too, he leaves at the same time as hubby. “Hi, good morning,”

Hubby gets out the door on time. I scoop the dogs’ food and bring them inside, head upstairs to cuddle our older cat, Gary, for 10 or 15 minutes before my day starts. (Making extra sure Gare doesn’t feel ignored, with our new addition around)

Quick shower, rushing because I forgot that today is Erika’s day care day. Normally she goes on Wednesday, but I had a meeting after work yesterday and wouldn’t have been able to pick her up before they closed… Moved her reservation to today and totally forgot. $hit.

Nothing to wear since I forgot to run laundry last night. Throw on my go-to favorite black and teal dress. Can’t find a cardigan, problem because the dress is a halter top - which is totally not work appropriate. Finally dressed.

7AM: Still rushing, grab plastic grocery bag containing my lunch and Erika’s left over breakfast for her lunch. Open the front door, it’s pouring rain. Erika runs a few laps around the truck before hopping in, leaving muddy prints on the driver’s seat. Thanks, E.

Erika doesn’t want to go to day care. She cries and almost slips out of her collar as I’m leaving.

Hear “You Don’t Have To Call Me Darlin’” on the way to work, makes me smile. We saw David Allan Coe a few months back. I love old country music.

8AM: Make it to work with only a few minutes to spare. Driving in was a nightmare. “Slight chance of showers, less than 20%” should have been “Monsoon. Best mode of transportation: Rowboat”

Try to order appliances for construction department. Website wasn’t working yesterday, down today, too. Spend 40 minutes, most of which I am on hold for, trying to arrange an order for 5 new homes.

9AM: The “slight shower” today has interfered with my company’s ribbon cutting ceremony for the community garden, changing location, going indoors. Spend the next hour in the pouring rain, moving garden things, including a tree, to the gym. Freezing because I’m in a sun dress. Bad wardrobe choice. Hair has become soggy, look like a wet dog.

10AM: Head back to my office to look for a comb, clip, tie, anything to attempt to fix my hair. Hair becomes dry, weird not-wavy-not-straight frizzy mess. Make up running everywhere. Text my friend, Sara, and listen to Garth Brooks “In Pieces” CD a few times while I compose an email to Whirlpool, detailing all of the appliances I need. This is all done in numerical code, of course, because it would be way too easy to ask for “Electric Range”, when I could find the item number in a document as large as a phone book. Sure, that’s way more fun.

11:30AM: Lunch time. Reach for my bag and find... Surprise! not my lunch, but a half jar of peanut butter, empty squeeze bottle of jelly and bag of mini-candy bars that has split open and spilled everywhere.

11:31AM: Go back out into rain, drive to commissary to purchase something from the food court. Remember that hubby was meeting friends for lunch today. Occurs to me that the 2 lunches I carefully, lovingly, prepared were a waste of time.

11:45AM: Return to office with a greasy, over priced sandwich only to find left overs from the ribbon cutting ceremony. In the break room there is fresh fruit, bagels and muffins from Panera and other goodies. 2 home made lunches and $7.50 wasted today. Enjoy part of my to-go lunch and a bowl of fruit with Splenda.

12:30PM: Lobby is like a rainforest. Painters are here, so all doors and windows are open to release fumes. We can hear the rain pouring just outside the door, and the songs of the barn swallows who have nested in the overhang above the front door.

1:40PM: Coworker chooses to mount maps on corkboard using spray adhesive in the lobby. Paint fumes and spray adhesive. Awesome. Also, one of those sweet Jimmy Dean commercials is on, where everyone is dressed up like planets and stuff…. I love those.

2:30PM: Still can’t get doggy day care’s webcam to load. Hope Erika isn’t having TOO horrible of a time there today. Also hope I remember to pick her up after work… Also, I need a nap. Having a hard time keeping my eyes open. Yesterday was crazy busy, and today, there’s very little going on. Browsing craigslist .

3:40PM: Got the $HIT scared out of me. Get a text from a number I don’t recognize, no message, just a picture of my old house. Can’t reverse look up the number, it’s a cell phone. Freaking out. Calling hubby, calling mommy. Turns out it was my brother-in-law, who assumed I had him in my phonebook. He was in my old ‘hood, wanted to show my how my little house was doing… F you, D. You freaked me out. Send a message with it next time you do something like that, dude...

4:49PM: Headed home. Finally.

5:40PM: Arrive home to find that Garrett has peed on my sweatshirt and shorts. Thanks, G-money. Change into sweatpants, go downstairs and find a puddle of dog pee. Thanks, Buford. Mop. Remember to run the washer so we will have clean clothes for our trip this weekend. Out of laundry detergent. Start getting grumpy.

6:30PM: Dog sitter comes over to get instructions for the weekend. She recently graduated (Congrats!), but will now be working and can’t take care of our dogs during the week as she has been (Our dogs have a nanny who comes to play with them at lunch time during the week because we’re cool dog-parents).

Note to self: Need to start looking for new dog sitter for weekdays.

While showing dog sitter where everyone’s things are for the weekend, realize we are out of cat food.

7:00PM: Frozen pizza for dinner, watch an episode of the Office.

7:45PM: Trip to Wal-Mart for cat food. Also buy bobby pins and a few other things for this weekend’s wedding. Forget the cheese and pepperoni stick hubby asked for. Feel like a terrible wife. Sigh.

8:30PM: Return home and feed cats. Begin packing for weekend. Tried and grumpy, plans for bedtime activities out the window, just want to go to sleep. Carpooling with hubby in the morning, means alarm will go off at 4:25.

9:30PM: Bedtime. Fall asleep before the lights go out. Goodnight, moon…

Small World

From the time I was in middle school, until I left for college, the town I lived in was made up of me, a boy named B.C., and 119 other people. This was actually a huge step up from a place we lived previously, where the population was some 100 less than that.

B.C. liked me in high school. This was probably because he at one point dated my then-best-friend and wanted to make her jealous. The fact that there were very few candidates for a high school crush may have also contributed to his attraction. I was also too passive to tell him to get lost. He was an ok guy, and yeah, I would say we were friends, just didn’t have butterflies for my classmate/neighbor/besties-ex.

Important to note, he was freakin’ annoying. I used to hide from him at school during Senior Year when we had a mutual free hour (Thank you, Ms. Myer, for letting me duck into your art room to study in peace!). My running route in the afternoons put me in his line of sight for about a block. I first tried wearing headphones in an attempt to thwart his conversation when he inevitably caught up to join me. He didn’t get the hint, he just talked LOUDER. I began to simply ignore him but he didn’t catch on then either. Finally, I just ran faster and occasionally left him in the dust.

After graduation, I went to California and B.C. went through ROTC. We were friends on social networking site, but didn’t really keep in touch anymore.

Hubby, who was Fiancée at the time, was at Fort Knox, KY completing the Basic Officer Leadership Course when his friend, Justin (Same Justin from the Airport Syndrome post) introduced him to a “really cool guy” he met. This “cool guy” was said to be from Colorado, “A small town past Denver.” Hubby explained that his beautiful-wonderful-amazing-ubersexy fiancée (maybe not his exact description) was from a small town outside of Denver, too….
Hubby called that night to tell me he met B.C., who he described as “a cool guy”. I tried to warn him that B.C. was alright, but absolutely not a cool guy and he would certainly become a severe annoyance if they let him hang around. Hubby didn’t believe me at the time, but later, B.C. would prove me right. Hubby and Justin soon loathed his approach as much as I had at one time. The last straw came on the night of their graduation party.

B.C. was pretty drunk and began telling stories to the group about his (alleged) romance with me! Apparently, he told of our “mutual” feelings and what fun we had when he took me to Senior Prom… Hubby was patient and quiet as B.C. spoke on and on of “our relationship”. Finally, hubby texted me, he knew I hadn’t actually dated B.C., but wanted to make sure he got his details right when he spoke up.

Between the fits of laughter, I responded to hubby, putting to rest any doubts. No, we never dated. He often joined me, uninvited, on my runs, he stalked me at school and yes, we occasionally hung out, but never as boyfriend/girlfriend. As far as Senior Prom goes, if we went together, where was my corsage? Why didn’t he pick me up? No dinner? I seem to remember attending with about 7 of my, ALSO DATELESS, friends. He drove me home, but not because he was my date, it was simply for convenience sake since we lived in the same tiny town in the middle of nowhere.

B.C. was quite embarrassed when the group broke into fits of laughter after seeing the text containing the truths of “our relationship”. I’m told his “man card” (A game being played that night) was taken away, and he passed out naked on the front lawn.

Hubby and Justin anticipated a dramatic confrontation when I flew out for their graduation, sure that B.C. would approach me and things would go down… Instead, hubby shined as the honor graduate of the class (Congrats, Hubby! I’m so proud of you!) and when B.C. saw me, he quickly diverted his eyes and walked away. No drama, sorry, boys!

Of the millions of people walking this earth, why is it you run into THOSE people all the time?
People I’d actually WANT to run into:

Ringo Starr
Tim McGraw
George Strait
Garth Brooks
Jenifer Aniston
Any current or former Colorado Rockies player, but especially Yorvit Torrealba or Todd Helton
Any of my awesome friends I never get to see anymore
Mario Batali
Jeffry Steingarten

Army Marriage

Hubby finally came home late Saturday night and promptly left again at 3am on Monday morning. He’s supposed to come home tonight, long after I fall asleep. This ends the field training, thank goodness, but I’ll loose him again soon when the Army takes him to LA for 3.5 weeks (and no, not the fun city, the humid, swampy state, bleh.)

Albeit a short amount of time I’ll have him back, I made some fun lotto cards that I saw on this blog, to give hubby when he gets home. We’re not having much luck with the Powerball, but I’m pretty sure he’ll be happy with my home made scratch off version! The blogger I got the idea from has way too much time on her hands and is so creative it’s sickening. I spent all afternoon browsing, taking notes, and stealing her cute ideas. Thanks :) ! Check her out for some super creative and charming ideas to brighten your hubby’s/boyfriend’s/fiancé’s day!

Before my return to single-wife living, hubby and I are going to St. Louis for the weekend. Get this, we’re going to a 1940’s/WWII era themed wedding and reception! How cool is that going to be, right? (*I* totally would never do it, but it’s freakin’ awesome that they are!) I’ve got a super cute dress and hubby has a WWII uniform. I’ll post pictures upon our reentering the 2000’s

Speaking of weddings, I want to share with you the Army Wedding Vows. Not the ones we read at our wedding, but perhaps we should have. They’re pretty accurate…. Enjoy!

Army Wedding Vows

Dear family and friends, we are gathered here today in the sight of God and the Department of the Army, to witness this exchange of vows, and see the love that these two dedicated, loving people have for one another.

"Wilt thou, __________, take ___________ (who will now be referred to as the "dependent"), as your family member, to dwell together in so far as the Department of the Army will permit?

"Wilt thou love her, comfort her, via the postal service or over the phone, make sure she knows where the commissary, PX, and church are, and what time she is scheduled to use the laundry room the day she arrives, wherever you are stationed?"

"Wilt thou attempt to tell her more than 24 hours in advance that you will be leaving for two weeks, beginning the next morning? This especially applies to the years you will live in a foreign country!

"Wilt thou ____________ , take this soldier as thy wedded husband, knowing that he is depending upon you to be the perfect (well almost) Army wife, running the household as you see fit, and being nice to the commander's wife? Furthermore, you understand that your life with your husband (little that you may have together) will not be normal, that you may have to explain to your children, not once, but twice, and more often in the same day, that mothers do have husbands, and that children do have daddy's, and that the picture of the man on the refrigerator is not the milkman, but the same individual who tucks them in at 2200 hours, long after they are asleep. This soldier is their daddy, who loves them very, very much.

"Wilt thou love, respect and wait for him, preparing his favorite cookies and pictures of yourself and the kids, so he can remember what you look like? And last but not least, put on the outside of your door his "Welcome home" sign when he's due to arrive?

"I, ____, take thee ____, as my independent wife, from 1900 to 2200 hours or as long as allowed by my Commanding Officer (subject to change without notice), for better or worse, earlier or later, near or far, and I promise to look at the pictures you send me, maybe not when they get to me in the field, but before I turn the lights out. I will also send a letter, if time permits, and if not, to somehow, some way, make the time.

"I, _________, take thee _________ as my live-in/live-out husband, realizing that your comings and goings and 0330 staff meetings are normal (although absurd to me) and part of your life as a soldier. I promise not to be shocked or taken by surprise when you inform me that, although we've just arrived at our new duty station, we will be leaving within the month. Yes, I'll have you as my husband as long as while you are away, my allotment comes through regularly, and that you leave me a current power of attorney and the checkbook at all times. I am a family member and proud of it, dependent upon myself and my resources. Although I miss you when you are away, I know I can handle whatever comes across my path.

"Now then, let no man or woman put us under what God and the Department of the Army have brought together. The Army hereby issues you this lovely, dedicated, independent woman, knowing that she'll be an asset not only to your marriage, but also to the mission of the United States Army, which is, as you all know, to remain in a state of "Readiness." By the authority vested in the Bible, elaborated in the regulation and subject to current directives concerning the aspects of marriage in the Army, you are now a Soldier with a Family Member. Best Wishes and good Luck."

In a Funk

I’ve been in a funk the last few days. I miss hubby, a friend just announced her upcoming divorce and out land lord is coming on Sunday for an inspection of the house. I’m kind of stressing about the house thing. Here’s hoping that A) They don’t raise the rent, B) they let us sign for 2 more years – otherwise we’re moving and I don’t want to do that. (If we sign another 1 year, our lease will come up while hubby is deployed. So not down with that)

I try not to gripe too much about the Army, because I’m proud of what hubby is doing, and let’s be honest, the pay’s not bad, the benefits are pretty good (Although I will talk about my feelings on the health care another time), there’s no fear of downsizing or layoffs… Things could be worse. But I’m getting tired of sleeping alone at night. I miss hubby.

His platoon is on a lame training schedule right now. Thus far: Left early in the morning to go to the range, stayed 3 days, then had staff duty on Friday night, came home dog-tired on Saturday mid-morning. Sunday night, bed time was 7:30pm in preparation for our hella-early wake up, so that he could be at work by 3:30am. He came by to see me at work on Tuesday, and we spent less than 3 hours together before he left again. He was supposed to finish up last night, coming home this morning, but due to a rain storm, things got delayed, so now, hopefully, he’ll be home sometime tomorrow. Monday is another early morning, beginning the 3rd and final week.

As soon as he finishes with this work at the range, he gets one “normal” work week, and then flies off to LA (The state, not the city, bummer) for 3 ½ weeks for a training. Ugh.

I know this isn’t anything like a deployment and we’ve been through a lot more than this before, but someone, please give me my husband back!

Maximum Capacity

We are almost an official Noah’s Ark, with 2 dogs, 2 rats, and with our newest addition, 2 cats. We only have one fish, mainly because Betas must live alone.

We’ve been talking about a second cat for a while and hubby was home for the weekend, so on Saturday we picked up a darling, 3 month old boy we’re calling Toby (unless we decide on something else). He’s a short hair gray, or brown tabby, it depends on who you ask. (Hubby thinks he’s gray, I think hubby is color blind). Forgive me not posting a picture, hubby took the digital camera with him out in the field.

So far, all signs have confirmed that Tentatively-Toby was meant to be our cat. A) He pooped in the car on the way home, B) He threw up in the car on the way home, C) He pooped AGAIN on the way home, and finally D) He likes hubby better than me. He’s also uber laid back and unshakeable, which is kind of necessary to live in our house. Last night Tentatively-Toby met our German shepherd, Erika for the first time. I assumed that he would be terrified, due to her crazy, hyper self, but they loved each other. They played, actively played, for more than 2 hours, and when I finally separated them to bring him upstairs to “his” room, Tentatively-Toby was drenched in slobber. I was proud of Erika for being (somewhat) gentle, and impressed at Tentatively-Toby’s cool attitude.

Besides our new addition, there’s not much to tell. Hubby’s been gone (although he came home Saturday morning, he had to leave again Monday at 2:30am) so my schedule is all wacky. I had chips and cheese for supper and stayed up until 11:30 last night watching 16 and Pregnant. I’ve also been doing some gardening, I don’t have green thumbs but there are a few pansies and some other pretty kind of flower that, but I’m not sure what it’s called, in the flower bed out front.

Since my last book post, here’s what I’ve been reading:

David Sedaris: Me Talk Pretty One Day
David Sedaris: Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim
Who Moved My Cheese?
Marlena de Blasi: A Thousand Days In Venice
Ann Rule: Every Breath You Take (Currently working on, almost finished)
Yan Martell: Life Of Pi

And of course, every month’s issue of Cosmo, cover to cover, as soon as it’s on the newsstands…!

God and a Gun

As I mentioned in the Family Pictures post, hubby is gone a lot. He’s gone right now, as a matter of fact. This time apart is an easier one than normal since he gets to come home on the weekends (Except this one, boohoo).

When I’m home alone, the time I miss hubby most is bed time, I just don’t sleep well alone in our big bed, it feels too weird and makes me miss him like crazy. I fall asleep in the wee hours of the morning, counting the nights I have left before he comes home, or if I’m lucky, I drift off with the TV on. I rarely sleep in our bed, and if I do, I’m on his side. Besides being entirely too sappy and dependant, I’m also terrified to be left home alone.

Before we got married, I lived in a cozy, charming house in Denver, Colorado. I loved my pale yellow bedroom and lying in a hammock on the front porch. What I didn’t love was the location. Things were never boring during my 2 years in the Sherman house. Once the police searched my yard for a gun they thought was dropped there as a shooter fled the area. Another time news crews covered a shooting that happened at a child’s birthday party only a block away. Then there was the neighbor across the street, involved in drug deals and murder – she shot and killed her lover’s girlfriend on the side. My personal favorite was my neighbor on the left, one house separated him and I; on two occasions (maybe more, that’s all I actually witnessed) he locked himself in his attic and shot at vehicles and pedestrians on our street. The SWAT team responded both times; the man wouldn’t come out and once made me late for work since the entire street was shut down. I finally drove through the bushes in my yard to get out, since he clearly wasn’t going to settle anything any time soon.

Another time, things hit too close to home when my house was robbed. Not once, but twice, in the same day.

I can count on one hand the times I’ve been really drunk, or stayed out all night. One of those times, I came home in the morning and my front door was open, my house was a wreck and most of my stuff was gone. Cops came and went, a report was filed and questions were asked about the dog (“No, Sir, I’m sure she wouldn’t do anything. See how she’s lying on the couch right now while you’re here? I’m sure that’s what she did for the robbers, too”). Considering that most everything I owned had been dug through and taken, I handled things pretty well. I pulled myself together, closed the house up and left for Home Depot to get new locks and pick up some pizza for lunch. Despite it being daylight, and that the cops had only just left, someone was stupid enough, or brave enough, to go right back in! With little left to take, they stole my new coffee pot, found my diamond earrings, and were interrupted by my return so the attempt to get away with my microwave was not successful (I found it unplugged, pulled off of the counter).

You can see why I might be a little leery of staying home alone.

I’m happy to say that now, hubby and I live in a nice neighborhood and the only time we’ve had to deal with 911 is when I accidently caught the stove on fire (I’ll save that story for another day), however, the assertive attitude and readiness to protect my home has stuck with me.

Something woke me up around a quarter to four this morning; it upset the dogs, too, who started barking. My old response would have been to hide deep under the covers and hope the dogs would do their job. Even though I don’t have the utmost confidence in their abilities as watch dogs, both are more likely to do something than the dog who was there for the burglaries! But do you know what I did? I retrieved the pistol from its top-secret hiding place and I went downstairs. I checked the whole house, ready to shoot at anyone I came across. I kept my cool, stayed calm brave. I checked rooms carefully, and I made sure I cleared areas before I turned my back.

I never did find out what woke me up, or what upset the dogs, but I remembered my ability to protect my home and take control of the situation, to not let myself be a victim, and I remembered how to handle the gun. (I’m a good shot at the range, and now I know what I can do under pressure, too)

So guess what? Our home is protected by God and a gun; you’ll meet them both if you mess with me tonight.

Family Pictures

Hubby is gone a lot. At this point in our relationship (from first dating to now married) we’ve spent almost exactly as much time together as we have doing the long distance thing. On the one hand, it’s great because our communication is spectacular! Not that we’re perfect at things, but we’re way ahead of the game when it comes to talking, because there’s not much else you can do when you’re 2 time zones apart. On the other hand, it sucks. C’mon, no one likes being apart, especially when you’re missing stuff like my joining the Catholic Church or his graduation from Tank Commander School. I sent pictures via cell phone from Coors Field when our favorite baseball team, the Colorado Rockies went to the ’07 World Series while he studied for a test in New York. I don’t know what’s worse, missing the fun stuff, or when the rough stuff happens; pets die, basements flood and the fact of the matter is, life doesn’t go on hold until you’re together again.

Lately we’ve been staying busy and his work schedule is getting intense, focused on preparing for an upcoming deployment. It’s obviously on our minds that before too long, before we’re really ready for it (are you ever ready?), he’s going to take his troop overseas for 12 months, and I’ll be here. As if the deployment wasn’t approaching quickly enough, he’s also being sent out in the field for training, to other posts for training, and even when he’s just at the office, the hours can be long. We’re not quite ready to slip back into long-distance mode yet, and in an effort to have some fun and capture our time together for when we are long-distance again, we had pictures taken on Sunday.

We found a great photographer here in the area, La Brisa Photography, and met with her at the park on Sunday afternoon. We took the dogs with us, because they are an important part of our family too. Although he is also a special part of the family (and the favorite pet, but shh, don’t tell the dogs!) the cat had to stay home.

Things went really well at first, the weather and sunshine were wonderful, the dogs were staying relatively calm and we were getting some good shots, then we let the dogs loose while we took a few pictures without the “kids”. A few minutes into the humans-only shots, we lost sight of Buford, our black lab. Normally, when we call them, both dogs come running, but this time we only caught a glimpse of Erika (See last post to learn about Erika) at the edge of the trees. We grumbled as we went over to collect our German shepherd and look for Buford (AKA, Ben), then “SPLASH!” a frightened goose came flying out of the river and Ben started crying! He’d jumped, or perhaps fallen, at least 15 feet into the river! By the time we made it past all of the trees and bushes, we weren’t sure where he was in the water. The 3 of us took off running for a clearing where we could access the water; our photographer already had her pretty sandals off in case of an aquatic rescue! I slowed my pace to look more closely at the other side of the river bank, when I heard his labored breathing behind me (Ben is, and was when we got him, slightly overweight and out of shape!). My baby was alive! Soaking wet and smelling like, well, a wet dog, but alive!

Most of our pictures will depict a soggy black lab and cuts and scratches on my legs, and the shots we’d hoped to get in the sunset barely happened, but we had a great time anyway. Enjoy these teasers we got this morning!