Aging Squid

See, I told you I'd spotlight my Squid at some point. And this isn't just to even the score. I really am struck this week with this little lady. She went and got all old on me. She finished Jr. High and has started summer Driver's Ed all in one week. What the heck?!

This girl is really something special. She is so considerate of everyone around her. She could care less about football, but she dons the official family team colors and smiles because she knows it makes her dad happy. 

And she is always always willing to pose for a photo opp for mom, especially if there's humor to be found in it. Who else would find the giant weed growing in the driveway funny?

She has always had an amazing sixth sense with animals. She can calm any critter that crosses her path. It is precious the relationship she has with her Ella. Here she is with Ella and the fancy bday hat she made for the dang cat. Miss Ella turned 8 this year. They've kind of grown up together.

She's kind of that girl that we all "hate." You know, the one that's gorgeous and good at everything! Squid has mastered the piano, excelled at violin, and now she plays a mean guitar. She was blessed to get musical genes from Grandma Mary. Did I mention the 4.0 she graduated Jr. High with?

Always the goofball! Those would be Mommy's genes coming through!!!

Just plain wonderful!

 Love you Squid! Go ahead and stop growing up any time now!

My Smallest Person

Being a mom is a tricky business. One minute one kid will pop in the room and I can't believe how much I love her and I only want to spend the day with just her. But then the other little munster will pop in and I can't believe how much I love her and I only want to spend the day with her. Then you put them together (and wait till they're done bickering) and I can't believe how much I love them as sisters and I only want to spend the day with both my babies. What's a mom to do?

Well tonight it struck me that I want to show off my little Bear. I'll keep it even-steven and showcase Squid at a later date, don't you worry. But for right now, I can't believe how much I love my little blondie and I only want to talk about her.

She can really rock a beanie, especially one that's pink and flowery and oh-so-girly.

 How beautiful is she?! I am so proud of this little lady. She has really begun to shine in Jr. High and has impressed me so much with her flute playing. I still can't make noise come out of that dang thing, and she's playing it like crazy all the time!

She is so much fun to watch in the kitchen. She is always baking up something yummy, and of course it's always cute!

 And then she picks up my camera and figures out how to take artsy-fartsy photos with my new camera lens before I can even figure it out.

Whaaaa????  What happened to my teeny-tiny baby girl?

Seriously, she'll be driving this thing for real before I know it. I'm not going to blink for the next four years and hopefully not miss another minute of her growing up!

I love you Martian!

December What?

How is it mid-December and 50 degrees? Don't mistake that question as a complaint. I'm just curious. It makes it very difficult to yell at my children for wearing shorts to school when it is nicer outside than it was on several summer days this year. Typically, Christmas decorating takes place with two feet of snow blanketing the yard. This year, not so much. Exhibit A:

Stretch on a ladder, no coat, no gloves, hanging our funky giant ornaments outside. Not a cloud in the sky, nor a flake of snow to be seen anywhere.

But groovy ornaments, huh!

Now, these two munchkins will have to put away the puffy winter vests with the fur-lined hoods for another day. Perhaps save them for their next trip to Siberia - OR - the next time Mom gets camera-happy!

Never Doubt My Magical Powers

It seems there are some out there who might have, at one time or another, expressed some doubt regarding my decorative abilities. I do believe the evidence to follow will once and for all set the record straight.

For a year, I've been promising the munsters I would decorate their bedrooms. Thanks to Stretch and his unending energy that drives him to just jump in and start projects at the drop of a hat, the ball started rolling - rather, the paint roller started rolling while I was away on business - and I had no choice but to finish the endeavor. With color on the walls finally, the girls were getting pretty antsy to see a finshed product. 

I have to admit, I was a little intimidated by the thought of pulling together a decorating scheme for a bright pink room and a two-tone purple room. Neither are my cup of tea; if I had my way, they would both have rooms that are extensions of my rustic country arrangements found throughout the house. I'm sure Squid could sense my anxiety because she really didn't think I was going to pull it off to her satisfaction. Let's just say, she's not worried now. I think the pic below of the 'blindfold moment' says it all.

Enjoy.......

And now for the Bear's big reveal moment ....

Someone In A Club Tonight Has Stolen My Ideas

’ve had the itch to write all day today. Right about the time Legacy spit me out on 215 this morning, I had an overwhelming impression that I needed to put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard as the case may be, and tell a story. This urge will hit from time to time, but usually only serves as a maddening reminder that I have two tremendous book ideas with which I have done nothing! Writing an actual book that contains organized thoughts and fully developed story lines seems such a daunting task. I give up and quit before I even start. Instead, I peck out these little blurbs that come together quickly and recap goings-on with little more than a few paragraphs and 20 minutes of commitment.

So what zippy fast tale needs telling today? Nothing really. So I turn to my most recent photos to provide inspiration. Have I mentioned I love my camera? I so want to be a great photographer, but that same waning commitment level connected to my writing translates directly to my photography skills. Regardless, I keep snapping pics where ‘ere we go.

It seems the theme of the week is fishing. The fact that I am enjoying the heck out of it is most ironic. Fish freak me out! But for some reason, I don’t mind fishing from the bank of a lake. I guess knowing that I’m going to eat the trout soothes my subconscious by suggesting I have ultimate power over the creature. Conversely, all other fish out there in the world, fish that I will not consume, hold all the power over me. I won’t go in the ocean - even just ankle deep, I won’t swim in lakes, I steer clear of the fish aisle at the Petsmart, and do I even need to mention my aversion to Sea World? Yes, this fishy fear extends to sea mammals; possibly more so. Whales and dolphins drive me to seek psychotherapy. Don’t know why. Do you think there’s a word for whale-phobia? Maybe they can name it after me.


Back to the theme. The itty-bitty city of Mantua, Utah (for some reason it’s pronounced man-a-way) houses a darling little reservoir. For a fun weekend activity two weeks ago, we drove the 35 minutes to the dam and dropped four lines in the water. How’d we do? You decide……

We had such a great time, we returned for more this past weekend. Soooooo many fish!!! These fish were so much fun to catch. The instant they took the bait, you’d see the fish break water before you even realized your line went tight. Then they would fight all the way to shore. It was awesome.

Well, not only was the fishing good, but just getting away from the stress of life for a few hours became somewhat intoxicating. For this reason, three days straight since then Stretch has made his way to the rocky bank of Mantua dam and limited out every time. Not just limited out, threw back five times the limit and still brought home the limit of rainbows. We’ll be sending invites to the fish fry very soon.


To further the theme of the week, I coincidentally stumbled across the show River Monsters on Animal Planet.

I am inexplicably drawn to this show. Typically, all my natural reflexes send me running the other way when aquatic critters skitter across my TV screen. However, whether it’s the soothing tone of the host’s voice, his brilliant European accent, the ruggedly magnificent logo font and design, or maybe all the cat food commercials with cute kitties interspersed throughout the broadcast, there is just something about this show that lures me in (obvious, lame pun intended! Booooooo!). It’s like a train wreck, I can’t look away. The morbid curiosity overrides my irrational phobia and I watch for hours on end as this Jeremy guy catches the most gruesome, enormous, alien looking chondrichthyes and other river dwelling genuses on earth! (Spell check doesn’t like that word, but it’s correct, I checked – you can also use genera as the plural for genus. See even if you’re not entertained, you did learn something new today!)

Oh fantastic, as I’m droning on here, Jeremy’s talking about whales in a lake in Germany. Huh? That's okay, my writing is far more important. Wuh-oh, wait, nevermind, now he has his shirt off........gotta go!



So, in summary: fish are freaky. River Monsters offers a kind of ‘face your fear’ therapy.


There, story told. Itch scratched.


Thank you and goodnight.

Easter Has Been Cancelled

In an effort to defend my crown as Mother of the Year, I have cancelled Easter henceforth and forever.

Don't misunderstand, I am grateful for the resurrection of our Savior. The celebration of this great miracle should and will continue, not just each year on the first Sunday following the full moon that occurs on or after the spring equinox, but each and every day, as it should be.

When I strike Easter from the calendar at my house, it means there will be NONE of the following:
 - egg coloring
 - egg hiding
 - egg finding
 - jelly beans
 - easter grass
 - tacky baskets
 - pastel colors
 - bunny visits
 - early morning sugar rush

Before you pass judgement on me for enacting such an edict, let me make it clear that it was adopted by unanimous consent in our home. Yes, my children were perfecting willing to forego the festivities with the promise that we would allow one bag of Robin's Egg Whoppers. The other stipulation was our genealogy egg would still be completed. Aside from that, EB is off the hook!!!

Ever since I could remember, I have hated Easter. As I revisit the feelings I had as a child on this holiday, a familiar anxiety sets in. As a young girl, I didn't know what I was feeling or how to explain it. As an adult who now knows I suffer from depression coupled with periodic panic attacks, the feelings I remember from the old days can easily be defined. I finally understand why I hate Easter. The first inklings of my unbalanced chemicals began on a spring day as I searched for colored eggs in the backyard. Associations are made quickly as a kid. Subsequent Easters only stood as reminders of those first moments of such an icky feeling. Thankfully, Mr. Pharmacist takes good care of me nowadays, but the effects of that early Easter linger and I've decided this year there's no need for me to endure it.

I can't tell you the relief I feel right now. I'm blogging up a storm whilst countless kitchens are filling with the unmistakable smell of vinegar. As moms everywhere supervise children watching colored pellets bubble and dissolve, I am planning a shopping trip with my girls and maybe some iceskating later on. I'll be happily driving away about the time those moms have to clean up spills and keep wet eggs from rolling off the table.

I'm not ruling out a late night trip to Wallyworld tonight. But it won't be to fight over the last remnants of Easter candy and tacky baskets. It will simply be a routine Saturday night excursion for lack of anything better to do.

The ultimate plan for Easter holidays to come is to pack up the camper trailer and get out of Dodge. I'm hopeful a new family tradition will be born and our children will have beautiful memories of Easter weekend. Maybe they'll even cancel Easter in their own homes when they're grown. I'll be so proud to cheer my girls on as they claim their own crowns as Mother of the Year!

Ode to DC

Top 10 Reasons I Should Quit Drinking Diet Coke

10 - The mountain of cans in the garage I'll never recycle

9 - I would not miss important photo opps of my children because I'm waiting for the foam to go down

8 - I won't be late to work because I have to stop at Maverik

7 - I won't have to hide my stash at girls' camp

6 - There'd be less stains on my carpet from the cats tipping over my leftovers at night

5 - I could keep my hands at the appropriate 10 and 2 position instead of protecting the cup when I turn

4 - I wouldn't have to pee half way through every movie

3 - It won't be the end of the world when my Applebee's switches to a Pepsi joint

2 - The Pepsi/Coke debate wouldn't tear apart our home

1 - Maybe I would hydrate with real water more than once every two weeks

But there's only one good reason why I don't quit. I DON'T WANT TO!!!

Like It Never Happened

For all those wondering, yes, Stretch is home!!! As you can imagine, I haven't felt much like keeping up on the blog. Certainly you can understand there have been far more pressing matters to attend to. And that's all I'm going to say about that.

Amazing how after about 5.5 minutes, it felt as though Stretch never left. All the whining I did over the course of 2009 was all for naught. That paradigm shift really took me by surprise. The only way I can describe it is this:  It's kind of like when you are stressing out before Christmas trying to make it to all the parties, enjoy the seasonal activities, buy all the presents, make all the food, and do it all before the stores close on Christmas Eve. Then suddenly, there's a drop dead moment when none of it matters anymore because the stores are closed and Santa is on his way. No matter how much you prepared or how many things you still wish you had done, Christmas has arrived, and all the anxiety and stress of being prepared just stops. There's nothing you can do at that point but just sit back and enjoy, and then you wonder what the heck you were so worried about. That's what it feels like. I spent all year identifying myself as the "wife of a soldier who is gone for a year." Then in an instant, I'm someone else. That other girl is gone and I can't remember why she even existed. I feel foolish for ever having thought it was so hard to be that girl. Just like Christmas morning, you can't remember why you were so stressed to get to Target before it closed the night before.

We have slipped back into family life like old pros. Stretch I'm sure is overwhelmed with the transition, but he masks it well. I'm sure that returning to a normal and mundane routine is comforting after such a long deployment.

So, we move forward now. We can actually make plans without the caveat that a year long interruption is headed our way. It's going to be ineteresting to see how life progresses outside of our usual state of limbo. Well, whatever happens, we're together now, and that's all that really matters.

It's My Day!

Hmmmmmm, another birthday. As a "grown-up" I think that is how I'm supposed to refer to having a birthday. Make it sound like I'm not at all happy about it. But if you know me at all, you know that I love my birthday! I make a big deal about it just like when I was a kid. I mean, come on......presents, flowers, cake. What is so discouraging about that?

Ooooh, the age thing? Ya, I've just chosen to ignore that part. As I said in a previous post, my maturity level peaked years ago. I don't feel anything like a "grown-up". However, that being said, I suppose I should admit there are a few behaviors I find myself engaged in from time to time that would indicate I may have, somewhere along the line, slipped into adulthood.

For example:

• When taking my daughters or even myself shopping for, ummm what's an appropriate term here........underclothing, I have no problem browsing through the merchandise to find the right size or holding it up to see if I think it will fit. This mortifies my children (which I understand. I remember feeling that way as a young'un). I just don't care anymore if I'm discovered by perfect strangers perusing the undies section.
• While looking at items in a store aisle, I don't care to move when someone comes along and seems to want to look at the same items. I was there first; they can wait! I used to feel obligated to move aside as if the approaching shopper were somehow far more important than myself and deserved to be there more than I did.
• I find myself yelling at the kids to turn their music down.
• My kids' teachers at parent-teacher conference don't intimidate me. I'm the authority figure now, not them. They need to listen to me and answer my questions, not the other way around. (Squid & Bear - this applies to me, not you. You still need to listen to and take direction from your teachers!)
• I find SpongeBob has lost his appeal.
• If I find something I like, I don't care what anyone else might think. If I like it, I like it. Exhibit A: My ugly zipper purse. Clearly I don't care what anyone thinks, or I definitely wouldn't carry this around.

As I look around and take inventory of my life as it is today, I really can't be discouraged at all. I am living the dream! When I was 10ish, I remember imagining what my life would look like when I was this very age. I remember envisioning myself married with children, living in a cute little suburban neighborhood, and working in a job where I could organize papers and use machines with lots of buttons. Well, I have all those things. Sure, I have other ambitions in life now. But everything that really matters in life has already come my way. Any future successes at this point are icing on the cake!

So there it is, all in writing: how I feel about life as I begin being 35. Just in case I hit a low point somewhere down the road, I can read this and remind myself that I don't have it so bad.

My Pitch Against Government Run Health Care

It's absurd to me that the government thinks they can do a better job of running health care than the private sector can. Actually, no, it's not absurd that they think that; of course they think that. They think they are the all supreme masters of the universe. What is unfathomable is imagining what health care will become if this stinking reform bill becomes law.
Now, understand, the following tirade comes not from a seasoned military insurance beneficiary. My blanket remarks toward an entire federal system come from only two brief, one year stints with Tri-Care.

To begin with, there's not one single entity which knows how the entire system works. You can't just call up "customer service" and get a step by step explanation of how to obtain the insurance, much less how to receive medical services. Staff at one phone number knows just enough to make you think you have all the information, when in reality, it's the tip of the iceburg. Being armed with what you assume is a full knowledge arsenal, you head off to the clinic on (insert military installation name here).

If you paid attention to the mail, you would by now know who your Primary Care Manager is. Oh, you don't now what that is? Well, you will have to revisit the phone tree approach to service and get a PCM assigned right away. After all, your assigned PCM is the gatekeeper to your entire physical/psychological well being. You cannot have any services without this guy/gal's authorization. However, the "system" can automatically bump you to a new PCM without your knowledge as they see fit. So don't get attached to a particular doctor, because you may soon have to part ways. Nothing is more heartwarming than retelling your entire medical history to the new PCM so they can pick up where your last doctor left off.

On occassion, you may have what you consider to be a serious condition which requires, in your non-educated, unprofessional opinion, immediate attention. Well, good luck with that. You'll still need a referral. Even if you call to get a referral to an urgent care off-base, they sucker you into waiting until the next available appointment with your doctor, because "it costs them too much" to have you go to an urgent care. Once at the doctor's office, you're then told that the custom medical equipment you need isn't covered on Tri-Care. Go buy it yourself. Thanks.

But, here's a little trick. Go to the ER at a hospital, take up their time and resources for a non-emergency, but kind of serious issue, and the PCM will have to authorize it after the fact. Sneaky, sneaky and not even close to cost effective for the system.

Once you have experienced the joys of all of the above, it's time to fill your prescriptions. It's great fun to get free drugs! Wait, not so quick. First you must wait for the doctor to send the Rx through the fancy computer. Once your Rx actually arrives at the pharmacy, you have to do what is called "activating" your prescription. It sounds like some kind of missionary effort. Now you are ready to wait for the pharmacy to fill it. Yay! Just wait for your name to pop up on the giant flat screen (I'm sure it's the taxpayers-didn't-really-pay-for-it economy model) and then you can go wait in line again to receive the goods. It may behoove you to note at this time that at each check point along the way, from signing in at reception, to getting labwork, to Rx activaton, and then finally pick-up, you will be asked to present your ID and "yellow card", which is the magical key that accesses top secret treasures (even though this card is handwritten and contains the same darn information as the computer system they use when they plug in your ID info.)

Are you tired yet? I know, this story is way too long and not noteworthy in the least. Now you understand how the government system will make you feel. Now imagine that you have to pay for this fine program. No, wait, not just pay for it, but be required to purchase it and pay for it under the penalty of law.

Should there be any doubt regarding the ridiculousness of this all, may I submit Exhibit A:  a sign posted at the pharmacy with instructions on how to . . . wait for it, wait for it................ How To Wait in Line. No, I'm not kidding.


I'm telling you, if this catches on, I think I'm going to start taking the fam to the vet with the cats for our continued health care. I'm sure it would be an upgrade.

What I Learned in 2009

• If you want warm feet, you’re going to have to break down and buy the expensive boots.
• Not all Mollys are really Molly. Watch your back and follow your gut.
• You’re good at what you enjoy.
• Army deployments are one year because that is the absolute maximum amount of time an Army wife can last before she spontaneously combusts! Six months, no problem. Nine months, eh…not bad. Eleven months…..getting dangerous. Twelve months…..almost insane. Almost. Twelve months and one day…….BOOOOM!!!!
• An ipod shuffle dropped in the grass in October, snowed on, and recovered in the spring after the snow melts will still work.
• Oneida has a website.
• Elliptical trainers are way cooler than treadmills.
• Deer hooves are funny.
• The pencil test lies.
• I think that dentists and periodontists give each other kickbacks.
• The internet pretty much rocks. Hulu. Enough said.
• Some people are just way too impressed with themselves.
• The Lord puts strength near us when sometimes we’re stupid and won’t accept the strength He tries to hand right to us.
• My maturity level peaked years ago. Thus, I will never feel or act like a grown-up.
• Despite the aforementioned epiphany, I must act more like the grown-up; certain teenyboppers are counting on it.
• Noodles and Co. is the best kept secret in town.
• Monkey see, monkey do.
• Ebay gives frequent buyer miles.
• It’s sad when a movie is supposed to be great, but even my 14-year-old can see right through it and be ticked off at the lame policital messages being shoved down her throat.
• I am not the motivator of me. I’m only half.
• Manual focus is really cool.
• Technology got away from me about 12 years ago.
• I judge all people who walk down the street.
• I don’t know how DownEast Basics outlet stays open.
• Two cats is heavenly. Three cats is not.
• I’m addicted to Diet Coke, not caffeine.
• I like making lists with bullet points.
• I have started four books this year and not finished one.
• I learned that I can make big changes that are difficult and sustain it, but slip once, and it’s all over.
• When it comes to people who frustrate you, sometimes it’s just easier to play their game and try to make their life easier and suddenly they aren’t so frustrating.
• Whiplash is real.
• I cave too easily.
• I’m an earwax collector.
• I don’t want to get old.
• Football is fun to watch.
• Expensive vacuums work better.
• It takes three repeats of each season to wean yourself from America’s Next Top Model.
• There is no need to wean yourself from Friends.
• I like jewelry. Lots of it. Not all at once, but lots to choose from.
• You can do everything right, but people will still misunderstand situations and you take the fall as a result…..aka….life’s not fair!
• I don’t understand wearing bracelets with long sleeves.
• Christmas without a new doll is like a birthday without cake.

Important Letter

Dear Old Man Winter,

I am uncertain if you're the one to whom I should direct this letter. To be honest, I don't know what your job is. Maybe I should be launching my complaints with Mother Nature. Do you work together? Are you maybe a project manager in her corporation? Regardless of the relationship and since I have no one else to blame, you get the brunt of my rant.

I would like to lodge a formal grievance relative to the amounts of extremely heavy and wet snow now canvassing my property. Some pretty, fluffy flakes softly blanketing the ground is one thing, but this watery mess weighing down the trees as well as my shovel is, quite frankly, ridiculous! You've got it out of your system now, so I will assume the remainder of the storms you have planned for the season will be appropriately fluffy and sparkly; not slushy and liquidy.

Thank you for your consideration of my request. With that being said, I suppose it would only be fair to temper the above with some favorable comments on the snow situation. Don't let this go to your head, remember that I am still an unhappy winter customer.

1. I re-discovered my free balaclava (thank you Outdoor Retailer Show and Snowfish). It actually kept my nose warm while shoveling.

2. My hours of work in the gym have translated to the shoveling arena where I poop out a good 20 minutes later than I used to.
3. I am reminded once again what wonderful neighbors we have. Thank you to whomever keeps plowing us out before I can get to it. I feel like a slug when that happens, but it frees up my time, which is needed to clear the back patio to prevent flooding.
4. I get to put my new 4-wheel-drive Rav4 to good use. It really loves the snowy roads. Makes me feel safe and in control.
5. There's just nothing cuter than kitty paw prints in the snow.
6. The girls are so happy these days when they're sledding or building an igloo in the backyard. If nothing else, I should be grateful for the snow because of this.



7. I get to imagine my neighbors laughing in the warmth of their family rooms while they hear me grunting, groaning, even yelling out loud with each scoop of the shovel. It's like listening to a Williams sisters tennis match.
8. Despite my dismay at the manual labor, I can't help but think of how lucky we are to have our health.

Like I mentioned earlier, Mr. Winter, don't let these thoughts of gratitude lead you to think I want more sticky, wet snow. A nice fluffy coating on Christmas Eve will be welcomed, but after that, you can be done.

Kind Regards,

Snow Recipient #11675

Mundane Musings

I feel like writing, but I don't have a topic. No story to tell. Nothing. I'm just sitting here with my fingers on home row tapping on the keys waiting to be inspired. A cat walks by. That only reminds me that GusGus ran away for two days, but now he's back. That's not interesting. I just made chili. Also pretty lame. Delicious, but not interesting. Hey, look at that: four lines already. It's as if I was writing. If I were at the airport or in a Starbucks, someone would think I'm important because I have so much to type. They will think I have colleagues with which I converse via email. They would be wrong. I'm just typing to hear the cool clicky sounds the laptop keys make.

Oh, grapes! We didn't discuss the grapes. How could I be so careless? See me ponder the wonder that is the perfect bunch of grapes.

And then bask in the glory of the green grapes......................................

...............................and then the purple grapes.

These all got squooshed and became the 2009 troupe de juice - extra pulp.

And now, basket-o-fluff.

And..........footstool-o-feline.

My eyes are itchy. Gotta go, bye.

Exercise Enlightenment

I love my 30's! So much wisdom is found in these years that so stealthily (is that a word?) crept up on me. There is so much knowledge amassing here that I will be able to take my 40's off from acquiring knowledge to simply wallow in my elderly status.

One such awakening occurred last night at the gym. You've all seen this chickie at the gym, right? I'm sure her name is probably Mindy or Holly or something irritatingly sweet.

We hate her, right? Stupid girl, with her tight buns and her effulgent perkiness! Ya, she's a real bitch! And there I am on the elliptical with my non-tight buns and perkless presence huffing and puffing away. It was in the throes of this agony at mile marker 1.33 and heart rate 148 that it dawned on me: I should be thanking this girl we all hate. As long as she is prancing around in her tight little suit, with her perfect assets drawing the attention of everyone else in the gym, nobody is gazing in horror at the sight of me fighting the battle of the bulge.

It's bad enough having to go to the gym and exert actual effort, but the added terror of people staring and ridiculing the fat chick makes it all the more unappealing. But thanks to fitness gal, the only thing I have to worry about is becoming exhausted and falling flat on my face on the treadmill. Now that would be a sight I wouldn't blame people for watching.

Serendipitous Occassion

The official stance of the administration is:  I hate to travel. Oddly enough, despite the administration’s aforementioned declaration, every time I travel, it seems there’s a contradiction in this position. I cannot travel without being entertained by the display of peculiarity that the public so freely offers. At this time, let me insert the fact that I myself provide plenty of fodder for other bloggers’ observational musings. I am that person who seeks the perfect, isolated seat and will circle and backtrack until it is found. Yes, when I get to the end of a terminal having not located this elusive resting spot, I will pull out my boarding pass, or check my watch, or look quizzically at the gate number so as to appear that I have another purpose in that moment besides just wandering. Or how about the scene of me bending over to adhere a secret, smiley-face sticker on the wall in an inconspicuous place for my husband to find next time he flies through that particular airport. I fully expect TSA to approach me one day and take me away for questioning.

But my own eccentricities are beside the point. Or maybe they ARE they point. I haven’t quite figured it all out.

One thing you should know:  the trip I speak of today, heading for Columbus, Ohio, began on my seventh wedding anniversary, 10/11/2009. (10/11 chosen for its idiot proof consecutive numbers). I told Stretch that my present for him this year was to travel two time zones closer to him; we’ll spend the night together – only seven hours apart. What can I say? I’m a romantic at heart, and so very thoughtful.

Anyhooo, this trip began with a note in my car from little Bear. Beside the note was a bag of eight cookies; one snickerdoodle and seven Chips Ahoy. She wrote, and I quote, “Dear Mom. Happy Anniversary.  I love you and I will miss you a lot while you are gone. So here are 7 cookies each represent each year you have been with dad. And the snikerdoodle is for the road. I will miss you A LOT. Love Mom.” How cute, I left myself a note. Or Bear was in a hurry and wasn’t being paid to proofread. How cute is that?

Off to a good start, I’d say. The remainder of the day brought many fantastic occurrences, ie: fashion-gone-wrong, confused and angry travelers, $4.00 bottles of water, toilet seat wrappers (no, not seat covers – plastic wrappers that automatically rotate around the bowl for each new visitor), pooches who must have an aversion to doggy-daycare since they simply must travel with the pretty people on the plane, “guacamole holders” (aka – chips) at the Mexican restaurant in the Chicago airport, and of course the latest on the Jon and Kate plus 8 divorce drama as told by People magazine. I should have warned you to take a big breath before that last sentence.

If you're struggling to tie in the title of this post, I'll make it a little easier for you now. It may have been my anniversary upon departure, which is exciting enough in and of itself, but my return trip fell on Columbus Day. How many of you can say that you spent Columbus Day in Columbus? I'm just the coolest ever! To commemorate the occassion, I purchased myself a "Nothing Tips Like a Cow" t-shirt in the Columbus airport. Yup, just the coolest!

A little life lesson for you: be grateful for each day and take advantage of the little life lessons along the way. Are you listening? I’m talking to you - very unattractive couple wearing the matching, smiley-face bandanas on your heads. This is your little life lesson: do not ever, ever wear those again! In fact, it is important that you get rid of them as quickly as possible! Not even a muppet would be caught in public looking like that! Advice for myself: a post with two smiley-face references means it’s time to close the laptop and find something meaningful to write about.

With that thought in mind, I bid you adieu from Dallas, where I sit waiting for my flight which has been delayed two hours. Did I mention I hate to travel?

Best Random Event of the Day

Am I wrong to think this is weird?

....... And let me preface this by saying that I am certainly not in a place to pass judgement. I am only making an observation and adding my opinion on top of it. That's not passing judgement, is it?

So I'm at the Maverik minding my own business (or secretly watching everyone else's business) waiting for the "slowest-drink-filling-customer-ever" (I believe that was their full name). Seriously, he waited for every last bubble of carbonation to wear off and then squirted three more shots of pop into his cup and waited for more bubbles to die down. You know who I'm talking about. Finally he filled his cup to the brim with beverage-not-foam so as not to waste any of his $0.89 on 1/16th-inch of an empty drink cup. At this point you think he'd move out of the way and let the tall, attractive, Rav4 driving woman behind him access the ice. You would think, but no. He continued to stand in front of the whole fountain whilst he reached for a lid and carefully attached it to his cup. Don't get me started on the agonizing task of de-wrapping a straw. I began to wonder just how much I need the fountain, caffeine free Diet Coke, or at what point I will actually clear my throat very loudly, say,"Excuse me," and push him out of the way. Just as I nearly decided to ditch my empty cup, he scooted aside to reach the paper towels which were employed to wipe the drips off his cup. I did not have time to follow up on the disposition of the drink, but I am quite certain the Queen must have enjoyed her perfectly prepared beverage very much.

I am sure you are thinking, "This happens to me every dang day. What is so interesting about that?" To which I might reply, "You are right, it's not interesting. But what happened next is actually the point of my story. I was just trying to see how long you would stick with it."

Continuing on........I made my way to the beloved ice dispenser where another guy snuck in next to me. I was very considerate (unlike some people) and gave him as much room as possible. From the corner of my eye I saw him grab a 32 oz. cup, fill it partly with water, swish it around, then dump the water out. This motion could only have been done in an attempt to rid the cup of Maverik cooties or those pesky germs plastic cups pass to one another by being stacked on top of each other.

Oh well, not a big deal. I just happened to notice it.

When I got to the checkout stand with my Garden Salad, not Chef Salad - because the turkey chunks are gross - and the long anticipated caffeine free Diet Coke (baby steps people.....I've cut out the caffeine, the carbonation still holds a special place in my heart), Mr. Cootie-phobe appeared again. This time, he's holding his very clean cup, a Red Bull, and one of the Maverik classics - the flat bread with melted cheese on top.

Back to my original question.......am I wrong to think this is weird? If the guy is so very concerned with what he puts in his body, as was evidenced by the cursory cup washing, it's hard to believe that his lunch of choice consisted of a toxic energy drink and a deliciously cheesy dish which, when gone, leaves behind about 1/4 cup of grease in the little paper tray. Once again, I have NO room to judge. I'm just sayin'....................

You saw this grandtastic photo from the last post. What you didn't see was the even more awesome quote I found to go with it. I love when someone out in cyberland pegs us to a T better than I ever could have!
In case it's not blaringly obvious, I miss Stretch so bad it hurts! Having him home on leave was heaven, but also a little bit of hell (aka, the airport scene!). Even though it hurts now, I sit here feeling overwhelmed with gratitude for our life together. In the past two weeks I've seen reports of families going through unimaginable tragedies. These two in particular have stuck with me for some reason. One military wife loses her husband in a motorcycle crash after he finally gets home from several deployments. Another family this week lost their 12-year-old son in an automobile/bicycle accident. Have I told my family I love them today? We run around so busy, worrying about our "problems", when in reality, we have the world by the tail. We have eachother, we have love.

Girls, you are my angels. You are my light and my joy. I'm sorry you've had McDonald's for dinner twice in a week. I'm sorry I yelled yesterday. I'm sorry I bought the fancy mascara when you warned me not to. I'm annoyed that you knew why they make the garbage can holes small and round at restaurants. I hate when you use common sense to solve problems I couldn't figure out because I was overthinking it. I am so happy that you let me take pictures of you where ever we go. I love watching you when you feed the bunnies. When I watch you two argue, I laugh because it's like watching my own sister and me 25 years ago; then I ache over the pain I must have caused her, then rejoice because we are now best friends, which gives me hope for you two! Your giggles from downstairs, when you don't know I'm listening, warm my heart like nothing else. The way you halfway get ready in your own bathroom and halfway in the upstairs bathroom baffles me. I love how you strive to do a good deed every day; even if it's not for each other. It's fascinating to watch as you learn about the world around you. I know I'll never be lonely when I pee because you'll always be there to sit on the side of the tub and talk to me. (I know, TMI, but really, it's like Pavlovian response.......I go potty and there they are!) I'm thankful that you understand why I work full time and am even more thankful that you have grown up so well adjusted considering the years of daycare dropoffs.

Bearyboo, you are so darling sitting across from me in your witch cape. You are so sweet to have put up all the Halloween decorations and picked a load of grapes tonight. It kind of creeps me out how fast you can type. Your little fingers going a million miles an hour is a little freaky, and why that doesn't translate to the piano is a head-scratcher. Your debate skills are incredible. I pray you will harness that power for the good. I can see you as a lawyer, just like Elle Woods, pink everywhere with a little dog in your bag, winning every case you argue. I just melt when you leave me little notes. Your checklists make me smile. I love that you have become the babysitter everyone expected your sister to be. Your daily poo cracks me up. Your midnight puking does not. I love the way you still sleep with your hands nestled under your head just like when you were a baby. I rejoice that your forehead still smells the same when I kiss it as it did when you were two.

Squiddles, I only bought the purple and pink shirt because you looked so cute in yours. I love that you say good-bye to your sister in the mornings when you leave for school; even when just seconds earlier you were fighting with her. I marvel that you always do what is asked of you even when it's your sister's mess I ask you to clean up. I can't believe you are already in size 10 shoes. Sorry about passing you all the tall genes, Stretch Jr. Your sense of humor is so refreshing, yet I sometimes worry about the monster I've created! I wish I could take away the angst of struggling in English class. Your relationship with that Lello-cat is the sweetest thing ever! I think it's funny that you wear mismatched socks. It's such a contrast to see you with such long spindly fingers and such a tiny button nose? I worry about how you sleep with all the covers over your head. I love that you shoot wrong-eyed and are still a wicked good shot!

To my lobster, you complete me. You complete our family. It's a whole different home when you're gone. Even just three days later. I love how you love your truck. I envy your energy. Your retard finger is so sad, but lucky to be hooked to you, otherwise, it never stood a chance. Your shower wisdom still teaches me more than any college degree ever could. I am grateful to you for working so hard for our family. My heart aches to think of what you endure while you're over there. I burst with pride talking about you to others. I can't believe I loved that dang shotgun! I think it's funny what an effect you have on Harley. I never followed football; now I feel a chill run through me when I see black and gold. What the heck's that about? Only for you would I agree to a "shrine" in my family room. Our girls are the luckiest kids in the world to have you as their Dad. I love that my Dad loves you, and that no matter how hard I tried not to, I married my Dad anyway. Thank you for always being you; and for figuring you out. Thank you for helping me figure me out. Thank you for buying me the buffet, and the juicer, and the little Wyatt Earp. No husband has ever been more thoughtful!

So, if that doesn't cover it, let me say it again: I love you, family! Each of you separately, and all of you together.