Welcome to Wal-Mart

While chatting with M before bed, I happened to look at my cell phone and notice I had 3 missed calls. I checked the call history and discovered they were all from work. Medicaid is coming tomorrow which always creates a buzz as people try to catch up on things that should really already be in order. In any case, due to illness and back troubles I am one of those that needs to catch a few things up very quickly.

I am especially stiff in the morning because I've been in the same position for several hours. So I thought a nice hot/cold pack and a back brace might help provide a little support for the work day.

I decided to get them. I ran down the street to the Wal-Mart. They were out. Zipped down the highway to the next Wal-Mart. Picked up what I needed and got into the Speedy Checkout Lane against my initial instinct.

Silly me.

The man in front of me dubbed it the "jackoff lane," to which I nodded my agreement. He also told those in line that he was about to have a foot problem. When those around him obligingly asked after his foot problem, he answered that he was about to have a foot problem because he was going to stick it up someone's ass.

I do not know what the hold up was further up in the line but it was pretty clear what the problem was 4 people ahead of me. This lady who "cannot tell a lie" apparently cannot read or count either. She had a cart full of items in the 10 items or less lane. She also wanted to discuss the subleties between brand of cigarette with the cashier before deciding which of the cigarettes to buy when the woman running the lane finally located the brands the lady was asking about.

Next in line was an animated young guy. He likes fights at the sports bar. He told his friend "you know what I mean, I mean you know, what I mean because you know and I know what you know I know" etc. He hollered to yet another acquaintance about meeting him at the bar but the friend had school in the morning to which the young man replied "you should go to school so you're not a retard your whole life" obviously speaking from experience. School did at least teach him to count to 10 but he was cashing a check which held up the line.

Next in line was the man's much quieter friend who was also cashing a check.

Then we had Mr. Foot Problem who named the lane the Jackoff Lane because he had "never seen so many jackoffs in one line." He also pointed out that the woman who couldn't lie could not read and they needed a night stick to beat away people who brought too many things to the speedy checkout lane. He was purchasing 10 cans of kitty food, 3 bags of kitty treats and a loaf of bread which adds up to 14 items in the 10 items or less lane - a point I politely kept to myself.

Normally, I have an abundance of patience for this kind of crap but tonight as it became more and more excruciating to stand there I found my patience waning thin.

More Therapy

I spent part of today similiarly hitched. Afterwards, I was ratcheted down to a cushion and asked to lean back against the bonds.

Like yesterday, I feel okay right now. I'm in pain but it is tolerable. Now give it a few hours and we'll see what I feel like then.

I'm sure the benefits eventually outweight the cost but that initial down payment is a bitch!

I felt pretty good directly after PT yesterday. By yesterday evening I started to be in pain. By this morning, I could barely move. Now I begin to understand why people often fail to follow through on their PT.

I did not go to work today.

The most frustrating fact is that I cannot get comfortable or even relatively relaxed. Sitting is painful. Standing is painful. Walking painful. Everything is painful. There is no hiding from this pain, except eventually in sleep if I can finally achieve it.

Therapy

Today, I started physical therapy for my back. I've never had physical therapy before so I was not sure exactly what to expect. My regular doctor's appointment seemed to indicate little wrong. I seemed to be in a lot of pain if nothing was wrong but I'd read that could sometimes be the case with back pain.

The specialist felt otherwise. He said there did seem to be some Sciatica and there were indications of a degenerative condition. After testing my various ranges of motion (bending forward most significantly hindered at 50%) and noting restriction on the right side I started the therapy part.

First up, electrodes were attached to my lower back. A giant heavy heating pad was placed on top which reminded me of a horse being saddled. They turned on a machine to give me little charges under the heat for a good 15 minutes. Then I had to do some stretching yoga-type things. Next up I was strapped in to a thing that looked something like a parachute rig. I was attached to a bar and lifted up a bit. I was asked to walk slowly on a treadmill while harnessed in this matter. I assume the idea was to take as much weight off my back as possible. Today, the pain was shooting down my right leg to the knee so each step on the right was uncomfortable. Next up some exercises where I had to push my stomach out against a belt. A few more similiar exercises and then some icing.

Yes, icing. I have cold urticaria and icing is a hot topic with me. I generally avoid it for the obvious reasons; however, in the case of my back it has interfered and hurt enough for me to actually try icing in spite of the downside. The doctor knew of my allergy but also knew I was icing a little. We wrapped the ice and kept my clothes on so it wouldn't be too direct and I could lean forward or get up any time I felt it was burning/itching too much. They monitored me throughout this process especially.

I was given a few exercises to do at home 2x a day.

I'll be in therapy 3x a week for a while. They are trying to localize my pain - get it out of my leg and into my back so they can get a better idea of what they are dealing with.

In the meantime, P had to come home again today. Stomach flu now. Apparently, going around. Tomorrow is still iffy. And I took Bella for her shots. I mentioned the rather long round worms she passed recently so he checked her out. She has hookworms also. This has to be the wormiest dog I've ever seen, poor baby. I imagine this has complicated her housebreaking a bit. We should get it under control soon. She screamed at the top of her sad little puppy lungs and required two people to hold and calm her while she got all her shots.

They both seem okay now. I got smoothies (Bella got some smoothie too, hysterical when she seemed to have brain freeze - she wasn't sure what to do about that sensation) and brought them home. P is humming and playing a video game. Bella is running around barking and acting like a nut. Chewing my nice shoes again. ><

I'm Done...Really!

Well, maybe just a little over...there...

No, I'm okay with things the way they are right now. There are some future things I'd like to be able to do but it will require learning some skills I do not have the patience for at this very moment.

I liked the widgets because they are more attractive and interactive than the ones we were currently using. They add more color too. I changed the clocks because the original clocks were just ugly.

The helicopter was a stock picture. I wanted a more personal picture so I used one that M took and tweaked the colors and saturation a bit. I'm happy with things the way they are now. M is a little resistant to change but I think he'll come around.

If not...too bad. I don't think he really knows how to fix it. Bahahahaha. /cough

Did I say I was shocked?

I am. I wrote my previous post over the course of two hours. In that time I went to eat, played some ping pong, explained what a noob this one guy was about his warrior...

and I come back to a totally different site!!! AGAIN!

I can't wait to see what it looks like when I hit the "publish post" button. Anyone care to take a guess?

*crosses fingers*

-M

I love more than I could ever promise
and you take me the way I am

Rearranging Our Furniture

Heather is at it again.

I made some changes to the layout. I get tired of looking at the same colors every now and then.

Silly warrior, DPS is for druids!

Side A:

Yes, I'm surprised too by the new little changes! She wrote me an email that said basically, I've been tinkering around on the site, go check it out. So I did. And in the words of the crazy Colonel from Ft Riley, I WAS SHOCKED! Do you like the new little widget thingies? I think they're neat and add a bit of color. I really like the slide show pictures. We have such cute dogs.

But on to the meat!

Last night I got to go to Karahzan on my warrior. This is the first time I've been anywhere really significant with him in... well I don't remember. Sometime before I left for here, I know that. It was with a group of friends that we use to be guilded with that I still talk to all the time. The subject of a late Thursday night or early Saturday morning Kara run was proposed and I immediately jumped!

Well... more like politely asked if I could come. They being the cool dudes they are said sure. It was mainly comprised of alts, but that was cool. We got most of the way through before our raid leader, and his main tank fiancee, had to leave due to a real life issue.

But while I was having fun, it also pointedly showed why I just don't play him anymore. One being that he's undergeared as hell for any kind of DPS role (which I was horribly filling), while two is that I simply miss being around my friends.

The undergeared part is from my decision to be a tank and thus took mainly tanking items. My DPS set is just... lacking. That's the kindest word for it. I know I can get upgrades, but it'll mainly be through PvP because I'm not on when any of my friends are on. And having to PvP in shit gear, by myself all the time... no thanks.

The other part is that I simply miss my friends. I miss doing stuff with them. I miss joking with them. I miss insulting them. This is on both servers that I play on, not just where my warrior is.

Something to factor into this is latency. On my mage, it's not such a problem. I've got distance and enough firepower to down stuff before I have to worry about it. On the warrior though, I have to get right up in the mobs face and when it takes 1.2secs to register if I hit it or not... well the game is still going on while I lag behind. When I see my health starting to get low and think, now would be a good time to take a healing potion, it might be too late. High latency and melee just do not mix.

It's sad that I'm thinking about permanently shelving him because he was my first character. All the places I've seen, it's been through him. All of my most memorable WoW experiences have been through him. MC, BWL, AQ, Ashkandi, Spinal Reaper, server PvP group, Leroy Jenkins, Zinwrath...

So I guess the question is, do you keep playing a beloved toon that you've lost all interest in?

B Side:

I have found my ping pong match. One of our terps who finally got back from surgery a while back, we finally played. Even though he beat me both times, the score was closer than anyone else I've played here. It's finally a challenge and not just going through the motions. He has power and finesse. For most people here it's one or the other. It's going to be fun!


-M

He was out to make a conquest
didn't care what harm was done
just as long as he won...
the prize

Walk Softly & Carry A Whipping Stick

In our relationship as a family, I am known as the push over, the sucker, the patsy. I fall only slightly under grandma in too much lenience. In other words, my 11 year old gets away with murder.

Particularly, now. In our relationship as a family, M is the bad guy, the hard ass, the whip cracker disciplinarian. Also, sometimes called "mean daddy." When he is here we balance each other out. I soften out his edges. Right now, it's just all soft. A fact rapidly becoming too apparent.

P is a pencil hoarder. I have no idea where he gets so many pencils. Instead of bullying kids for lunch money, he must shake them for pencils. 90% of the pencils he gets end up somewhere on the floor in the house. The same place 90% of his belongings end up.

On a typical day, he comes in and drops his coat on the floor where it stays until I get tired of looking at it and throw it in his room. The bookbag also gets dropped on the floor. Pencils and papers randomly vomit onto the carpet at various locations. The couch gets covered in plastic guns, video game cases and controllers. He takes a bath? Socks, underwear, pants get left down the hallway like he's leaving breadcrumbs so he can find his way back out of the bathroom after his shower. Cups all over his room, the living room, my expensive new blocking board and some of his crap is on my blocked piece of knitting. A fact I could have just walked into his room and wrapped my hands around his throat for...

Enter little Miss Bella. She is a puppy. Teething. So along with pencils, socks and random crap all over the freakin house I also have shredded papers and various other presents, as she is still too young to be fully housebroken.

And then there is me. Books. Books and knitting stuff. I hate dishes and laundry and put them both off until they are stacked all about. I will clean the rest of the house. The bathroom is georgous right now. But the laundry and dishes are another matter.

Add to this the fact I have some kind of back injury which will require Physical Therapy which starts on Monday and you have an embarassing mess of a house.

I literally cried as I took 6 bags of trash out (we live on the third floor of an apartment) while he watched and made no offer to help. I returned from the grocery and brought in bags and bags of stuff as he again watched. His friend, T asked if I needed any help. Then P asked if I needed help. He would not have offered had his friend not made him feel guilty by asking me if I needed some help.

This is a monster of my own creation. That is the most frustrating part. I've let him get away with "in a minute, not right now, I'll do it tomorrow, later, hold on." I've let him get away with it. I've let it get out of control without M here to balance my softness out. I've created this monster and now it is mine to deal with.

I'm going to start today. I'm locking both computers again. The TV in here is still out so it has locked itself for the time being. I'm going to try to do some housework today in spite of my back, simply because I'm sick of looking at it and no one is going to help me do it. Once he realizes he's fucked, he will but that will have to come later.

I hate that I have to do this. It makes me so upset that he cannot just intuit or I don't know, have a little empathy for my back, and the fact we let him live here, spoiled, without asking for much in return. But that is my fault too. It is not terribly reasonable for me to expect an 11 year old to be that intuitive and reasonable. He's 11. He's being 11. I am the parent (as M loves to point out) and I have to enforce these things, not expect him to magically become a robot child.

PS. I post this as a means of venting. M dear, I'll handle it as I must. Do not let it frustrate you. It is my part of this job of ours.

Do you have your Whitlin' Chip son?

In the Scouts, before you could carry a knife you had to complete the necessary training to prove you could handle the responsibility of owning/ carrying one. In my eyes that's a good thing. Of course what I'm about to tell you is why I think they should have the same thing for adults.

Last night our internet went out kind of early in the night, so seeing how I had a ton of free time just laid into my lap I decided to watch a movie. I went over to our ever growing collection and found The Guardian. It stars Kevin Costner and Ashton Kutcher, and it's about the Coast Guards rescue swimmer program. Kevin is the old grizzled vet, Ashton the new young pup. It was actually pretty good. Personally I thought it was like GI Jane, just for Kutcher. It kinda played the same way.

About 3/4th of the way through, V starts banging on my door and yelling something. I had my awesome Sennheiser headphones on (the ones that basically block out the entire universe), so it kind of startled me. I pop them off, come out the door to find him holding his middle finger wrapped in about 400 paper towels. He's kind of groaning and I basically say, wtf happened?

Apparently he was doing some "electrical work" which turned out to be him trying to cut a cable with his new knife. Some of our Air Force leaders are visiting us and they gave each of us a new Gerber knife. It's only a little thing, has about a inch and a half, two inch lockable blade. This is like the little brother of the one that I have, which has closer to a six inch lockable blade.

Anyways, he moves back into his room, I deduce what happened, start laughing at him and help him get his shoes on so I can take him over to the clinic. We get outside, I hurdle the pond, get into the tru...

Pond? Yeah, didn't I mention that it had rained all that day and was still drizzling when we left at about 10pm? Oh I didn't? Well yeah, it'd been raining and the area was essentially underwater. Which sucked cause I was in my sneakers, so I got two feet full of nasty ass cold water. Soaked all the way to the socks. But back to the story.

We get in the truck and I drive up to the new security door that we just had installed. I'll post a pic of this beast, but it's a huge ass metal slab on wheels. I hadn't opened this monster yet, but again I'm so glad I've been working out.

Get out through the gate and I revert back to my security forces training. Emergency blinkers go on and my foot goes through the floor. What's normally about a 5 minute ride to the Army FOB was done in about a minute. We pull up to the closed and barricaded gates, I hop out, declare a medical emergency, show my ID and his ID, then jump back into the truck and quickly proceed to the clinic.

We get there, I find the docs and they proceed to patch him up. During the time that I was putting on his shoes till now, he'd been talking about how he was loosing feeling in his finger. Turns out he knicked a nerve. Good news is that in about a month he'll have feeling back, seeing as how nerves grow at a rate of 1/ 10 of a milimeter per month. He doesn't need stitches, but as he explains what happens, everyone gets a good laugh.

We get back to the dorm, I tell our people he's ok and I head back to finish my movie. Fast forward to this morning. A few of us have breakfast with the people that came in and what is sure to be the new running joke for the next month or so is, we all ask, who gave him the knife? Of course we already know the answer cause he all gave us the knife personally, but The Shirt just hangs his head in mock shame, the CE folk proceed to claim they're the only ones who can handle knives properly and then we all proceed to show scars of memorable cuts of the past.

This entire incident reminds me of my youth growing up when my dad would proceed to routinely cut himself every time he picked up a knife. Of course he would use the largest knife possible for any job and in the process cut himself pretty good. (It's Man Law, it's genetics, we can't help it) I can't tell you the number of times I had to use a home made belt tourniquet around the wrist to help cut off a free flowing finger cut. Those are some of my best memories :)

Yeah, I learned early to be careful around knives. It didn't always help, as my nice bright thumb scar from over five years ago can attest, but if I should happen to ask you where your Whitlin' Chip is, don't act too surprised, ok?


-M

That's the truth about men,
yeah that's the truth about us


*PS- I fixed the broken link in the post below. That's what I get for not reviewing my work before I post it. Yeah, yeah, I know. :P

Who the heck are you?

A Side:

Yes, I've been gone for a bit. I just didn't have it in me to post for a while and I hope you understand that. Once that passed though, it was a combination of laziness and that I got distracted.

Distracted by what? Glad you asked! A few of my WoW friends post on this big community board and I've been over there a good bit. We post and chat about WoW related stuff in our own thread, but this board is home to a lot of people who post about all sorts of different things. One of the things that they post about is something that yours truely has an ever growing amount of experience with.

No, not talking about how to identify crappy contractor work (even though my skill level in that has increased dramatically), but Iraq. Mainly my experience here so far. A lot of the people there have a lot of book knowledge about the place, but no first hand, boots on the ground knowledge.

So I'm kind of filling that role for them. They've basically been peppering me with all sorts of questions. Everything from "how's the water" to some vile stuff like, "what kind of music do the troops listen to to kill iraqis?" That latter question helps to reinforce beyond a shadow of a doubt Gabe's Greater Internet Fuckwad Theory ; I tend to ignore those questions.

Mostly it's been thank you for your service and this is a great thread. If I don't know something, I simply say that. If I know it, then I'll talk about it. Of course I'm trying to be a pretty nice, stand up, good example for the service type guy. That's why I save all my true feelings for you guys. It's not that I'm being two faced, but I'm trying to maintain some shred of journalistic integrity there, where as this is my own personal note pad that you guys just happen to read also.

B Side:

So this past weekend, Fri- Sun, I had off. We have two four day passes we can take and I decided to take that here. Mainly because of the fact that, as you can see in the two previous posts, it was our anniversary on Sunday. I wanted to make sure that I could call home and tell her happy anniversary! That was more important to me than trying to get to Qatar so I could get a beer, which I won't drink.

It was three glorious days off. No retarded calls, no 0545 wake up, nothing but sleep, rest and whatever the heck I wanted to do. I almost cried when I had to go back to work. It was just really nice to have longer than a day off.

Now in Iraq here, taking vacation time is called Jazza. The Iraqi military has a pretty damn sweet deal going on right now in that their officers get two weeks of jazza per month, enlisted one week. Yes, you read that right. Officers work two weeks a month, enlisted three. And you wonder why they're not ready to transition yet? They're all on vacation! /sigh

But the part that is funny about this is that last Thursday I was helping my IA counterpart with some radio problems. On a previous visit a few days earlier, V and I had diagnosed his computer with having a bajillion viruses and just needing a ton of help. Well last Thursday I reiterated this fact, that he needed to go take the computer over to the IA help desk and get it fixed.

The terp that I had with me use to work with the IA at that help desk, so he's decent with computers. Our terp promised to take the computer himself, fix it and bring it back (this was at his skill level). My counterpart was like, yes yes! Then you can come back on Saturday and reinstal the radio programming software!

I was like, oops, sorry, can't do that.

They both looked at me like... why?

I said... I'll be on jazza, at which point I produced this huge shit eating grin.

Everyone there just started laughing their asses off.

Why is this so funny you ask? Anytime we (our team) go to do something productive with them, they're always on fucking jazza. Hey, tomorrow lets go do this and this... oh, I can't, I'll be on jazza! Hey, where's (insert Col/ Lt/ Sgt) so and so... oh, he's on jazza! This happens all the damn time!

I was playing them at their own game, which of course they found pretty damn funny. Later I related this story back to V and some of the other guys, and my pass time was called jazza there after. Hey Mike, how's your jazza going? Oh, where's Mike? He's on jazza!

Side note- I told my counterpart that after my jazza ended on Monday, I'd be happy to come back over and help him reload the software. He got this sad look on his face and said he wouldn't be able to.

You've probably already guessed why.




Yup, he'll be on jazza.



><


-M

You can't always get what you want...
but if you try sometimes, you just might find,
you get what you need!

Happy 12th Anniversary to you too babe

Love Songs and Luck

A Side:

Sing me a song without any words
and I'll pretend you wrote it just for me
Paint me a picture with images blurred
so I can see what I want to see

I want to see you and me
Happy together singing love songs...

I want to see you and me
Happy together singing love songs,
together singing love songs...

Tell me that story again the one that has no ending
And that will be the story of you and me,
Never ends and never begins just keeps on going like it is
And maybe that's the way it should be...

I want to see you and me... happy!

Singing you and me so happy... together
(together singing love songs)
I want to see you and me... happy...
(together singing love songs)

together singing... love songs,
together singing... love songs...

Get me out of here
Get me anyplace away from here
I cannot see just what I want to see...

Oh I rely on you to get me where I'm going to
Anywhere with you is where I want to be...

I want to see you and me... happy!

Singing you and me so happy... together
(together singing love songs)
I want to see you and me... happy...
(together singing love songs)

together singing... love songs,
together singing... love songs...


I WANT TO SEE YOU AND ME... HAPPY!
SINGING YOU AND ME SO HAPPY... TOGETHER SINGING
YOU AND ME... HAPPY TOGETHER SINGING
love songs...

I WANNA SEE YOU...
I WANNA SEE ME...
I WANNA SEE YOU AND ME, OH YOU AND ME HAPPY...

Together singing,
love songs

B Side:

One day...
We'll get out of this shitty apartment
One day...
Is all it takes for things to turn around,
now all I know...

Is I got you and you got me babe...

And when that morning comes
I'll make coffee and you'll read the paper...
We'll talk about our plans,
and I'll keep saying how lucky we are...

One day...
We'll get in the car and drive anywhere we wanna go
And then we'll stay,
in a five star mini bar luxury hotel room
Cause all I know is,
I got you and you got me babe...

And when that morning comes
I'll make coffee and you'll read the paper...
We'll talk about our plans,
and I'll keep saying how lucky we are...

How lucky we are,
Oh oh ohh
How lucky we are,
Oh oh ohh
How lucky we are,
Oh oh ohh
How lucky we are

Ooh ooh oh
Ooh ooh oh
Ooh ooh oh
Ooh ooh oh

One day...
We'll turn on the tv and we won't see nothing 'bout war...

And when that morning comes
I'll make coffee and you'll read the paper...
We'll talk about our plans and I'll keep saying how lucky we are...

How lucky, how lucky we are
Oh
How lucky, how lucky, how lucky we are
Oh
How lucky, how lucky, how lucky we are
Oh
How lucky, how lucky, how lucky we are



Happy anniversary baby :)

-M

Every little thing I do,
I do for you

Memorial

Today was the memorial for Maj Andrew Olmsted and CPT Thomas Casey. I didn't go because I was stuck with work, but earlier this morning during our daily get together briefing, the Army commander we work with told us about how Maj Olmsted was a "prolific blogger." That doesn't even begin to cover it.

Below are the links to his true memorial. He was a blogger for his home town newspaper. He was an avid blogger for the past five years and I have a ton of back reading to do now.

Also, the critically wounded soldier is doing good. He had a bullet pierce his neck, but luckily he had turned his head so all the bullet did was kind of pass through the outer edge of his neck. It's more of a flesh wound and sounds worse that it actually is.

As I've been reading all of this information for the past three hours, I've been overwhelmed with grief for people I barely knew. Specifically, Maj Olmsted. I'm currently sitting at my keyboard with The Police blaring from my speakers, trying desperately, but unsuccessfully, not to just totally break down and start bawling. They were people that I hardly knew, but I know that we've lost two incredibly important people.

I've been reading over the comments left at one of the sites and it's from people who new the Maj very well, and people who just found out. It's from thousands of people from all over the world. And the two sites above are but just a handful of the many, many sites who have reported this. If you Google Andrew Olmsted, you'll find just a shit ton links reporting his death and the sadness that people are feeling. People who knew him very well, people who just found out about him.

I'm in that latter category, I'm just know really meeting him and it's too late. It's always too late. I find out about intersting people, but it's too late to contact them because they've just died, or have been dead a while. This time is different. This was a man who was less than 300 yards away from me. I just didn't know. And I'm worse off for it.

He knew this outcome might happen and he left a goodbye message. If you clicked the first link, you've read it. If you haven't read it, take the time now to go do so. I've thought about doing that, but I just haven't yet. I still don't know if I can.

After reading through his though, he was someone I wish I had known better. His team was gone a lot, so I don't think I would've gotten a chance. Still, I wish I had known and tried.

So in honoring his last request, I have some '80's turned way the hell up and I'm going to get a Coke from the chow hall and have that with dinner.

God speed sir.

-M

Oh and I don't want to die for you, but if dying's asked of me;
I'll bear that cross with honor, 'cause freedom don't come free.

The One With The Links & Crazy Fonts...

I spent a large portion of the day on the road today. I drove all the way to the next state only to realize I left my purse (driver's license, credit cards) at home. I had to drive back and then out again which made me an hour late picking up P in Florida.

We wrestled his bike into the car. I have no idea where I'm going to put this thing. We already have one in the way in the apartment as is. I can't wait to move to our next base where we will get a house and maybe actually have room for a bike - one that we don't have to haul up and down three flights of stairs to use. My bike is in storage. I'd love to actually, you know, ride it?

On the way back we stopped by for pizza at Stromi's. I like their pizza. I can get wheat. My favorite wheat pizza is baby spinach, sun dried tomatoes, grilled chicken and portbello mushrooms. P likes Italian sausage and pepperoni. We usually get gelato or Blue Bell ice cream when we go there. I like the cake batter flavor. P usually gets birthday cake and cookies and cream.

We walked to the game store. I let him pick up a computer game since our TV is out again. It worked for a couple weeks then decided to call it quits. I finally picked up my copy of Revenant Wings.

We played a game of Chickenfoot together, in which I lost badly. Very badly. Which means P might actually play the game again. I might try to talk him into playing Thirty-One later. We learned that game at a get together on Christmas Day with some friends of his grandparents.


Jingle Bell is being a terror. I bought her a number of puppy toys and her favorite things to play with are bottle caps and paper towels. She's shredded paper towels all over the house. Tomorrow, I'm hoping to actually feeling up to cleaning up a bit. P will be here to distract/babysit Bella while I get some things done. He can also help me haul things to the garbage. After my urticaria cleared up (and it warmed up again) I ended up with a head cold. I spent most of last night tossing and turning. Apparently, P had the same thing. He has some kind of portable shots of Vicks in a tube which makes me feel like I'm snorting crack but they are relatively effective.

I'm thinking about a nice hot shower to clear out my sinuses...

A Pity And A Pity Party

In case I had settled into any notions that M was in a "relatively safe location" - which of course is an oxymoron in itself, as there is very little safe about that volatile location - this incident just reminds me of the danger lurking around each pile of rubble and dust.

My emotions conflict. I am happy. No, happy is not the right word. Extremely relieved. It is hard to think about how difficult this must be for the families of those soldiers when I'm thinking thank God it wasn't him and please God don't let it ever be him.

To continue that same selfish line of thought, the pity party:

I believe M has mentioned my crazy cold urticaria once before while dreamily discussing living in the Green Mountains after he retires. At one time, this allergy was fairly severe. Then it kind of tapered off for several years, luring me into thinking it was going away, only to crop back up periodically - a little peek-a-boo, just to let me know it was still alive and kicking.

This year it is not only alive but it seems to have gotten a second wind. During the warm summer months it is easy to forget how debilitating this allergy really can be. To avoid the stimulus would be to avoid the gentle breeze, to avoid a nice scoop of ice cream on a hot day, to avoid a nice lap in the pool, to avoid life during the winter season.

Every nippy day that I leave the comfort of my home to perform some duty, I face that which can quickly make me miserable. How easy it is to concentrate while at least half of my body feels like it is being eaten by fire ants! How easy it is to smile with angiodema in my face and a nice rash colored blush upon my cheeks! How fun to touch the steering wheel, the door handle, the desk, the keyboard, the chilly steel file cabinets knowing their demon fire will soon have me clawing my skin off in patches!

This is what I looked like yesterday:
Mmm Sexy.

1-1-5

America lost two of her sons today. Another is in critical condition. I got back from rendering honors at the helipad for one of them.

We were notified at roughly 5:30pm to be out at the helipad in 10 mins. I had just changed into my PT gear to head to the gym when Doc gave me the notice. He quickly gave me a brief bit of info, enough to make my face fall, and I hustled back into my room and changed back into my uniform. V and I high tailed it over where we got a little bit more info on what happened.

From there we waited for the helicopters to arrive as the temperature continued to fall. Thinking we were going to be out there briefly, I only put on my silk undershirt, when what I needed was my polypro. For the next 75 mins, as the wind tore through my garments, I shivered and froze.

But part of what was making me so cold was knowing that the families hadn't been notified yet. It forces me to think of how my own family, Heather, the boy, my parents... how they would respond if notified. It's something that I refuse to face because I know how they will react. It'll fracture whatever is left of my family which pains me in a way I can't express.

At 7:30pm local time, the ambulance arrived. Six men, teammates of the fallen, accompanied the body. I know a few of them because we'd been over to their building a number of times working on their network. I'd met two of the three briefly. They were nice guys.

The remaining team members were the caretakers of their comrade, ensuring he safely got onto his last flight out of here. They took him from the back of the ambulance, his flag covered body strapped to a stretcher, and took him to the Blackhawk. They will be at his side until they load him onto the plane to send him home.

From the moment the ambulance pulled up, we gave him the highest honor we in the military can. We held our salute until they flew off and we couldn't hear them anymore.

They were husbands, fathers, brothers, sons, soldiers, leaders and followers. Remember them in your prayers tonight and always remember the families who will forever be changed by this.

These are the things I carry.

-M