Weekend

The kids' rooms are cleaner than my living room right now. This morning Princess said "Tag! Don't forget to clean your room just in case the House Fairy comes by to visit." They spent all the time they could, getting things straightened up before school which made my little heart go pitty-pat I tell you what. They are most certainly getting a surprise from the HF today.

On Saturday I went to support the Army-dillo (sounds like armadillo) by walking in the 2 mile race to support the Sentinel Foundation. The person doing the registering at the PX assured me that lots of families with kids walked. Well, someone forgot to tell the rest of the families that, so I ended up being the only walker. Man came with me... but I'm not sure why. Duty? Obligation? I told him he didn't have to come but I was taking the kids and we were going to have a good time. He wasn't happy to be there. His argument: "I have to walk for PT every business day of the week and now someone wants me to pay to wake up early on a Saturday and do more PT?" We got a t-shirt out of the deal though. I carried Tag part of the way (poor little asthma lungs), pushed a two seater stroller, and we had to get off the road several times as the 2 mile runners passed us up going and coming, and then the teams passed us up, and finally the 10k runners started passing us up just as the finish line came into sight.

I actually forgot to turn in my racing tag to be scored. I took it over to the score board and the man there got a little flustered. I said "don't worry. I was dead last. We crossed after 47 minutes." "Oh, well, that's ok. Just put it over here." We were a good 20 minutes slower than any other 2 mile participant so we ended up on the score board anyway. The 10k winner looked twice as old as any of the young military there but he won by several minutes. I was most impressed.

There was that family.... kind of in the way, the wife was overweight, the kids slow and one looked sick, the soldier is injured, BUT THAT'S OK. Do you know why? We Army families may not win races, but we finish them. And supporting the Sentinel Foundation was the point of the whole party, right?

The kids played in a bouncy castle, Princess and Tag got to ride Pistol the horse, Tag did some rock wall climbing, and the horse guy asked me if I'd like to try riding Pistol. I said sure, why not. Left foot in the stirrup, swing the right leg over... fail. I made the saddle slide around the horse. My face burned as I refused to look at all the athletic young things surrounding me and my foot got stuck in the stirrup. I laughed and tried to make it look intentional. Um, which it was....n't. The horse man said he could just tighten the saddle and get me up there with a heave. I laughed again, told him I'd try later in life using a mounting block, and let it drop. After that I was all funned out and we went out for Ice Cream. Which always helps bruised egos. Especially if it's a cute little place called (I kid you not) Marble Slab. We go there because the ice cream is just as good, they have cards that get you your 6th cone for free, and they have military discounts. Double dark chocolate ice cream with caramel chip mix in... bliss.

After we got home I mowed the lawns. It's dry enough now that we don't have hurricanes every week that I was breathing in a steady, thick cloud of chaff and dirt. Allergy heaven.

A shower and a batch of rolls later, I was off to the dinner before Women's Conference. I met new people as well as some from California. That was a bit surreal. There was even one sister there who was in CA as missionary, then she came back to live, met her fiance, and now she's living here with her husband for his training. It was just an odd circumstance.

As I was leaving the conference, several of the ladies kept staring at my chest. Which was unspeakably weird. Women can always tell when someone is staring at their chest no matter how discreet you think you're being. I finally looked down to see if I had grown a third bosom only to find the Freida had somehow managed to open my button up shirt right where everyone could see my bra. Lots of my bra.

The next day at church was the first day of our new callings as Sunbeams teachers (which was actually quite delightful. We re-enacted the parable of the Good Samaritan), Man got to be the ward chorister (during which Freida started screaming to high heaven, which meant I had to leave three kids in the chapel with a calling-bound husband and a room full of very kind people who are still largely strangers). I also got to play the piano for singing time which everyone assures me wasn't as bad as I thought it was but I know lousy piano playing when I hear it. I kept a stiff upper lip and did my best to play despite deficiencies and shaky hands, and the kids didn't seem to mind too much when they'd suddenly go acapella.

All in all, it could have been a really rotten weekend. But we had fun and made the most of things. And I got a re-reading of Ender's Game in which was awesome. I gave myself the luxury of a frozen lasagna for dinner one night and fish sticks for another night. Much cheaper than eating out, for sure and it was nice to have a bit of a break.

So, back to the grind. Except I feel like I'm resting today more than I got to all weekend. And I'm watching season 4 of The Office while I fold laundry. Woot!

pics

Mmmmmm, banana cream pie. If I see the cheap bananas in a bag, I grab one and make a pie and a batch of bread. Yes, old bananas are loved in my house.


It was a Monster Tag. (a monster tag!) He was a grave yard lad. (a monster tag!)


Just a random pic of my cute Freida.


She kept this bandaid on for a week. It literally fell of her finger and wasn't helping at all there at the end.

Names

When my sister was younger, she thought her name was [first name] [middle name] McGillicuddy O'Toole Flanagan because my dad would call her that every now and then.

I have a cousin who, until he was 5 years old, thought his name was Presh (short for Precious).

Pebbles just pointed to a picture we have in our home. "Is-sat Jesus Christ Amen?"

All is calm

Today I printed out my Michael's coupon, checked my grocery list twice, and headed out. Freida fell asleep on the way to the store, so walking up and down the rows and rows of delightful craft supplies was calm and brilliant. Pebbles (who is lately more of a Bam-Bam) had fun exclaiming over and fingering yarn, beads, ribbons, buttons, and odd-looking fake pumpkins. Freida woke up about half way through the store but was distracted by colors and shapes enough that she remained quiet. I walked away with a tidy handful of treasures -- just enough for one small project. I'm giving myself time.

At the grocery store we walked up and down the aisles, adding in one or two extras (primarily horchata), painstakingly avoiding the Halloween candy aisle, the chip aisle, the soda aisle, and a good portion of the bakery. I had already had a near miss with Dairy Queen which was advertising a banana split blizzard. But I drove away, dear readers, because I noticed this morning that despite my best efforts to drown some anxieties in ice cream, I'm starting to slim down a bit from walking kids to and from school, keeping a bigger house, and mowing a lawn with a really weird grade in it. I don't want to ruin this blessing and how good I'm feeling.

I realized halfway through this trip that I could walk as slowly as I wanted. The nursing baby was with me and content, the older kids were off doing something constructive, Man was safely at work, and Pebbles was amusing herself by waiting to see if I'd forget her in an aisle and then running to me with a grin and a giggle that made my heart glow. Grocery shopping is not my favorite pastime but I'm so glad that today there is peace.

Chore Charts Part.. oh, I don't know. Let's call it 37.

In my continuing search for the perfect chore chart, I have finally given up and just printed something off the computer. I know, I know, it isn't cute, fancy, it isn't the workmanship of my own hands, it doesn't use cute stickers, cute pictures, or even a gimmick of any kind. How non-Utah is that?

I don't know how to make a file downloadable from a blog (any ideas?) but here's a picture:



The above is Princess' chart. The best part is, it has worked for a whole one day! I've coupled it with the House Fairy idea, but after watching just one HF video I've ingested enough saccharine to go into a sugar coma. Fantastic idea and I'm thinking of making a donation out of pure joy, but I'm still feeling a little ill. The basic idea is that the kids never know when the HF is going to come and see their rooms. If they are clean, the HF will leave a surprise. If not, they'll get a little note that says "better luck next time!" I've told mine that I'm going to pretend to be a HF since we don't do the whole "some mythical person is watching you, so be good or else" thing.

Man asked why I didn't just leave the Fairy bit out and just tell them that they'd be getting surprise inspections. The soldier flavor of that doesn't agree with me either.

I love the positive reinforcement of it though. The kids woke up this morning, having cleaned their rooms yesterday, and perfected them before going to school.

Now, you have to understand that these kids get woken up at 6:15am in order to be ready to walk out the door by 7am. This morning they were ready to go by 6:40 (shoes and all!) and wanted to put a dent in their chore charts and make sure everything was Fairy-worthy. Tag even started a load of laundry for me. That right there was worth the entire effort of printing these things out.

Now, today is day two. If we're still doing ok by these ideas by next week, I'm going to throw myself a little party.

It's either perfect or finished

I've talked about my perfectionism a lot over the past couple of years. It's something I struggle with on a daily, minutely basis. If I know it won't turn out perfectly, I don't start it. If I see it isn't developing perfectly, I quit. It's pathological, it's caused me and the people I love a lot of pain, and it's severely limiting. I analyze everything I ever tell people -- I torture myself with remembering what I said wrong or stupid and it makes me sick. I don't finish knitting projects that have errors at the beginning, and if I tear it out I can't bear to restart because I now know that I might do it imperfectly. I had to quit rereading my blog posts several times to correct errors because it tripled my blogging time and didn't help a whole lot anyway.

So, let me say again something I said yesterday: I finished a project.

Now that the older kids are in school, I've found freedom and time that I never knew I'd have ever again in my life. Slowly, some of my creativity is coming out to play and the first thing I've done with it is make a new Family Home Evening Chart Thingy of Power. Why of Power? Because I freakin' finished it, booyah!

I started with an oval board, painted it burgundy, but couldn't find the little wood cutouts I wanted. I ended up making little dangly things with our initials on them out of beading supplies, but then couldn't find cup hooks in the right size or color. Apparently no one makes the tiniest cup hooks in anything but brass. So I did a redesign. I also decided that my handwriting was too lousy to actually paint or write on the board itself and got stickers, but was not pleased with how they looked so I actually used my very own handwriting on the darn thing in silver paint pen. And yes, it's done. It's DONE!!

But I can't show you a picture until I have better light for pictures. The stinking thing is so very imperfect and I did have to make some concessions on its appearance because it could either be perfect or done. I chose what I've heard is the higher road. It isn't the highest road (perfect AND done, darn it!!) but it's higher than tossing it in the heap of all my other projects.

I'm tempted to just start all over again but this time find all the things I need and change the colors to allow for the brass hooks. But what would I do with two of them? I'd put the first one in a box and move it 3-4 times around the country before getting tired of the guilt and throwing it away. No, my beloved little project deserves more than genesis and immediate rejection.

Maybe I could sand it and just start...

No.

But I do need to touch up the paint over there...

Leave the Chart of Power alone.

Just a little? Just enough to straighten out that one crooked word?

SILENCE!!!

But...

Tsssssh! No! No. Negative. (Thanks, C! I say that all the time now)

Now... we need to start having Family Home Evening.


Oh, by the way, Man and I have new callings at church. We team teach Sunbeams (the 4-5 year old kids), and he is ward chorister (using only his left arm) and I am primary pianist. Boy, they sure didn't waste time heaping a few of those our way, did they? Man also already has a full home teaching route and I'll be getting my visiting teaching route in a couple of weeks. And the primary presentation is at the end of October!! Ack! Can I learn the music by then? Not perfectly, I'm sure. Ha!

Finishing things

Pebbles always falls asleep on the way home from walking the kids home from school.

I finally finished a project. I think it's the first time I've finished a project in a very long time. It all started...

Oh, bother. It's almost 11 and I have to sleep. But don't let me forget to tell you all about the FHE Plaquish, Plaguish, Shan't Languish, Chart of Power!

It isn't as impressive as it sounds, but... ok, more on that later. To sleep, my dear ones.

GPS

GPS. In the very first care package my mom sent me when I moved out on my own, she included a compass. Why? Because I'm directionally impaired. I usually have to drive somewhere (actually behind the wheel) 3-4 times before I can do it on my own, depending on how complicated of a route we take. So, with all the moving we've done/will be doing, we decided that a GPS would be a good purchase. We got it before the move out here and I tell ya, it saved our tails on a number of occasions even with Man ("he with pizzaboy/cabbie directional sense") in the van with us.

This female robot voice gives the directions. Which I think is hilarious. You know, a female voice giving the driver directions. On the other hand, I'm sure that it's mostly females using the device in the first place, so maybe it makes women drivers less irritated if it's one of their own making the suggestions.

She sometimes says weird things. When she says "as soon as possible, make a legal u-turn" which really sounds like "as soon as possible, make illegal u-turn" which I'm sure wouldn't hold up in court at all, unless you really want to tell a judge about the voice that tells you to commit moving violations.

It tries to take you on what it's sure is the fastest or shortest route, and you can also have it take you on a route using a few as or as many highways as possible. Getting to know this city a bit, I've learned the fastest way to get to the mall despite the GPS's earnest desire to take me on a ridiculous surface street route, so I go to the highway and then pay attention. Sometimes I like to take a street that I know is parallel to the one I'm going to have to end up on anyway because there are fewer stop signs. The GPS doesn't know about the stop signs so at every intersection it says "approaching left turn", then readjusts the route and again tries to get me to take a "left turn". After it exhausts all the left turns, it sometimes tells me to make "illegal u-turn", but sometimes it just gives up and tells me how to get there how I want to get there.

I can't wait for the day when the female robot voice says "well, forget you woman. See if I care. DON'T take the approaching left turn and DON'T blame me when you roll into Albany when you were trying to get to Abilene. If you need me, I'll be mapping you a route to HECK, lady. Yeah, oh, by the way, here's another left turn you could.... oh, for the love of Pete! I just don't get any respect..."

You know, if female robots ever PMS. I'm sure that's what one would sound like.

Goofy Glasses

Today was Goofy Glasses Day for Tag. They are learning the letter G all week (all week?? Princess had a letter every day. But I digress.) but I couldn't find any goofy glasses at the store despite a none too tiny Halloween section. So, I improvised.




If you click on the picture to see a larger version, notice what parts of his face you can see in the light of the glow sticks.


And another Texas sunrise. Just gorgeous. These Ike clouds are so fascinating.

I spy, with my little eye....

I was going through my site counter stats and noticed with a shock that someone from the Department of Veterans Affairs has been looking at my blog!! And someone from Denmark! And someone in Alaska! Ok, so I know who the person in Alaska was, but the DVA thing made me wonder, all of a sudden, if Man has superiors who are just checking up on me every now and again.

I suddenly want to either do something extremely goofy, or go and erase all of my goofy stuff. Do you ever have that feeling? I guess I havn't quite outgrown a slight impulse to laugh at authority.

And who the heck do I know in New York, you know? This whole blog thing started out with just a handful of friends and relatives taking a peak every now and then and I keep forgetting (you know, every time I come here to bleed) that someone I don't know quite so well is taking a peek into the depths of my life and thoughts.

Ok, so maybe not the most brutally honest, clandestine, yet (ahem) wonderfully intricate and profound workings of my mind.

But I did something stupid the other day. You want to hear about it? Of course you do.

I was going to visit post one day. There's something in the military called Force Protection Conditions (you can read about them here) and we are in FPCON Alpha, which means there is a low level of general threat. Which makes sense, us fighting something like 7 wars at once and all. As a result of this, we have papers posted everywhere reminding us not only what FPCON we're in, but also how to recognize a Muslim extremist (as opposed to the vast majority of perfectly nice, Muslim moderates) and what to watch out for in unidentified, unmarked packages left in public places. (I call them UUPs, not only because I like to name everything, but also because it's fun to say "watch out for the UUPs" which is pronounced like "yoops" as in "yoops, I shouldn't have left that brown paper wrapped Christmas parcel in the front seat of my car, because a bomb squad is here to detonate my vehicle, so how am I going to get these groceries home?") These signs are all over the commissary. Which is totally something I want to think about while grocery shopping, especially if I do something dumb and bring all four kids with me.

Anyway, back to me being stupid. I was going through the ID check point at the front gate (which is always an intimidating experience, being faced with three layers of road barriers arranged in a maze, as well as tire spikes and even more road barriers that rise out of the ground with a click of a button. I'm sure it's a red button.) and handed my ID to the security guard. He looked like a nice guy, and there was a fully armed and armored service person standing right next to him. I was exhausted and right in the middle of last week's "please ceiling, fall on my head" personal drama so I do what I do best: make stupid jokes to alleviate my stress. So I recalled Bill Cosby's funeral bit ("Doesn't the deceased look like himself?") and smiled and said "don't I look like myself?" The security guard sort chuckled nervously, looked back at GI Grim (who, did I mention, had an M-16 in his hands?) and said "ma'am, I'm sure you do every day of the week." I thought about how I woke up this morning looking more like a brutalized banshee, laughed a said "well, I don't know about that. Have a nice day!"

As soon as I started to drive away I realized that right about then I should be crashing into a road barrier and hearing huey's descend upon me, just in case I still looked like a banshee and they thought that meant that I was a Muslim extremist. Which I'm not. Besides, I'm a very tall white woman with 4 white kids in my minivan. How extremely Muslim could I look?

I kicked myself in the rear all day about that and couldn't bring myself to mention it to Man, in case he thought they would try to detain him the next day on account of having a wife who doesn't know when to shut up. If GI Grim can't keep me quiet, what would?

-sigh-

So, if someone from the DVA is reading this and I have "made stupid remark to gate guard" on some sort of secret, personal record, just know that I'm very sorry and it won't happen again.

A farewell

Farewell! Unloved, undeserving, underserving, broken, worn, and helpless.

Farewell! Wasted space, cursed ineptitude, dizzying spirals of futility.

Farewell! Crowded, weeping, scraped up masses.

Farewell! The stain of my hands, your untimely dysfunction, that damning scrape of impotence that grates on my ear.

Farewell! And darken my pencil cup no more.

(I'm replacing all the broken pens with ones that work)

just a couple of pics

I feel like I've left Frieda out of the pics a bit lately. So here's some make up.

But first, a Texas sunrise:




She found some cereal on the floor and was happily munching.


I don't even know what this face is about. Something stuck in her teeth? Something taste funky? Was it my breath? Who knows.


More big eyes. She liked the camera but not the flash.


Is this not a Tag face? She looks a lot like her brother.

A couple of easy recipes

Since moving here I've tried to keep the cooking as cool as possible. Here are a couple of things that are still hot but don't heat up the house too much. They are also stinking easy which is what I'm all about right now.

That's Cheating! Calzones.

This is actually an idea I took from Rachel Ray, but couldn't remember all the specifics. I thought it was brilliant.

8 ounces ricotta
1 egg
1/2 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp dried parsley
1/4 tsp gounnd pepper
1/2 pound ground sausage
8 ounces mozzarella cheese
20 ounce jar of spaghetti sauce (I use prego, and never the whole jar)
6 largish, crusty buns

Mix the ricotta, egg, and spices together. Set aside. Cook up the sausage. Set aside. Cut the tops off the buns (don't cut in half, just slice off the top bit), run a knife around the inside of the bun to define the borders of the bowl you're about the make, and rip its guts out. Put a spoonful of the cheese mix in, pressing down to fill all corners. Add a spoonful of sausage, pressing it in. Top with the mozz cheese and the bread "lid". Wrap in foil and bake at 250° for about 20 mins or until they are nice and hot. Heat the spaghetti sauce in the sauce pan and add in any leftover sausage. Slice the buns in half and dip in the sauce. We ate this with some asparagus stir fry.



Chicken Alfreida

1 jar of premade alfredo
6 large boneless, skinless chicken thighs (if you use breast, make it 4 pieces instead)
1 tsp dried oregano
1/2 tsp black pepper
1 tsp garlic salt
1 1/2 tsp onion powder
1 pound angel hair

Sprinkle the chicken with the spices. Brown on both sides over med heat and then lid until cooked through. Remove to a plate and cover with foil to rest. Add the alfredo into the skillet and scrape up the yummy bits. Let that heat over low while you give the chicken a rough chop, then add the chicken and any juices from the plate to the sauce. (in the mean time, make your pasta. Don't forget to salt and olive oil the water) Stir it up and let it heat through. If you want you can wrap a loaf of french bread in foil and let it heat in the oven while you're doing all this. Steamed squash goes well with this or a bowl of sliced fresh fruit. I'm going to try this with half shrimp one of these days.


Also, something I'm using this week when has taken a load off my mind is http://www.menus4moms.com/ . We currently have her ratatouille in the slow cooker in the garage.

Yes, there is AC in H land

This past Friday I got a knock on the door at 9 am. I had been nervously looking at the temperature and weather all morning, wondering if the weather man would be right for once in predicting 91° and thunderstorms. It was still in the upper 70's when the AC guys came to the door. It was the same guy who came to trouble shoot and a younger helper. It wasn't raining and wasn't threatening rain either so they set to work as quickly as possible before Ike became a problem.

Younger Guy: Hey, can you hand me a screwdriver? [he was in the furnace closet in some weird stretchy pose, trying to get the roof repaired since the whole unit had to be replaced]

Older Guy: Where's your tool bag? [older guy is a former Navy sergeant, or whatever the Navy calls their sergeants.]

YG: Outside, from when we were putting the unit together. Can I just borrow yours?

OG: You may not. Why didn't you keep track of your stuff? Do you see what I have to work with? [stumps off in a huff to go find the other guy's tool bag rather than lend his own tool]

Me: Yep, [speaking to younger guy] and I see what you have to work with. That's what you get for working with former military. Now he's going to get on your case if it's dirty, too.

OG: [coming back] Why isn't your bag very organized? And there's grime on this one.


The two little girls when to bed for naps and I went to take a shower. After dressing I saw that it was raining outside. I had been told that if it rained they couldn't install the unit, but the actual machine was already in the closet by this time. I plaintively asked if they had to take it out and come back later. OG told me yes, see you Monday. That was actually reassuring since the older guy had a tendency to deadpan irony.

All in all, it took about 8 hours to get the whole thing put together, including the little platform it sits on. They kept ribbing each other the whole time and never stopped for even a single break.

I think my previous depression was due in large part to hormones. But then, a lot of what was going on it finally resolving -- we are in possession of our second vehicle, the AC is fixed and it's actually a much more efficient unit (thank goodness!!), Tag's asthma attack is very slowly but surely diminishing as the long term meds help and the air in the house goes back to being filtered, and I finally got a good night's sleep last night.

The kids went with us to WalMart yesterday and we found the Halloween stuff. Tag got blue hair paint, Princess got glitter hair paint, and we are never getting the glitter stuff again. It gets everywhere. I prayed it on their hair ourside and the glitter actually hung in the air for several minutes. Tag actually got blue hair with sparkles over the top of it, so his if blue with gold parts. I had a hard time explaining to them why they couldn't have their hair like that at church.



Tag lost a tooth.


Princess has developed a seriously loose tooth she wanted to share with the blogosphere:

Pebbles got a hair cut.

Frieda is asleep so you'll have to wait to see her.

How're y'all today?

This is therapy for me. Feel free to disregard. It's more whining.

1.) Go to change the AC filter, find water dripping. AC man takes precious time to arrive, 3 days later. Finds that AC is broken, water could cause motor to start house fire, no AC use is allowed. Will replace entire AC unit by Friday (which = 3 days of no AC here in west Texas) OR when the rain stops, whichever happens second. Ike is coming to visit by Saturday. We're just getting over the last hurricane. Shall we be without AC until next week? Find out in the next episode.

2.) Man is in training. People who are in training here are not allowed to walk anywhere without being marched by a sergeant. Not even senior enlisted people. They are also not allowed to use their POV (personally owned vehicle) during the duty day, which means that I either have to get self and 4 children up by 4:45am to give Man ride to work or do without, no exceptions. We've gotten two freebies when he brought me the van during lunch (don't do that, Soldier) and between PT and the morning formation (don't do that either, Soldier). Soooooooo, we get to buy a new vehicle because we sold the last one. And this, right after the fridge and the lawn mower and the big move which we had to pay for out of pocket until the Army reimburses us, which we've heard can take over 6 months. By then we'll be moving again.

3.) I was right in the middle of running several over-due errands today with one of my freebie van days when the school called to inform me that Tag was experiencing an asthma attack. After two nebulizer treatments and still retracting, I call the physician on duty to ask advice. I get a call back right when I'm in the middle of helping baby with a flaming red sore bum so Man answers my phone, says "it's ok, he isn't retracting anymore" and hangs up. Then he tells me that the person who called back was not the on call physician but some sort of Army trained PFC. I fume. And tell Man that if we're going to do that sort of thing then we're going to buy a pulse oximeter because Tag IS retracting but Man doesn't want to deal with ER visit. I fume some more. Tag is doing well enough that I havn't pushed the issue but I still want the comfort of some MD advice. Which of course I won't be getting from a PFC. Next time I'm calling friend C or SIL-RN.

4.) Van AC puked the very day we arrived in this city.

5.) Still dealing with packer mess. Have no idea where my first aid kit is. Still have linen closet where linens have been dumped in big pile. Have Man Box filled with Man Things that have no idea with what to do. Have no dishwasher, no garbage disposal, and am on cooking/dish strike for the past day or two. Pizza and pancakes. Kids have no clothes in which to dress. Am behind on laundry.

6.) Man treated like infant by superiors with TX-size chip on shoulder.

7.) Feeling guilt for not having missionaries over for dinner, but have no AC and no dishwasher, and fear resenting feeding another 4 men and doing dishes by self. Not worth it.

There are other issues. There are other things causing stress in my life. Today, as I was laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling and wondering what it would feel like if it fell on me, I realized that my capacity to deal with my life was being far outstripped by the challenges I'm being called to endure.

I could call a chaplain, but then I'd have to figure out how to drive up there (taxi?) to counseling sessions which may or may not be remotely helpful. I could call ArmyOneSource and talk to the faceless voice trained to care about me. I could call any of a dozen friends and just whine and cry. I could also call my bishop, except there's such high turnover in our ward that they don't even have a ward directory.

I've made a friend here, but mostly our boys are friends and she invites me to Mary Kay parties and invites me to window shop at the mall with her friends where she spends all her time making Mary Kay contacts while I try to not look like I'm with the group that's soliciting in a mall. The little girls and I check out the weird shops, weird people, and take pics of things like the astroturf dog at Victoria's Secret (pics forthcoming, when figure out how to get them off of phone).

Am overwhelmed and don't know how to articulate it well. Need some counseling. Will get some tomorrow over the phone because I'll be stuck here in 95° weather, 60% humidity not only just in case the AC man comes to give us new AC but also to wait for a loan check to come so we can buy this truck that Man found. Little loan for little truck, but loan nonetheless. And I'll be praying that Tag's asthma stays in check enough that the school won't send him to the hospital because if they do I freakin' won't have a stinking way to get to the darnation hospital because the babysitter, I mean sergeant won't let my husband drive our tarnation van during the duty day, no exceptions. If she says she won't let him go if Tag goes to the ER, you can bet that the 1st sergeant and commander will be getting an earful from this angry civilian. But then that's picking a fight that hasn't even started yet.

And now I'm rambling because the kids were up all night last night from being hot and having asthma attacks, and I wake up at 5:40 to shower before I have to wake the kids at 6:15 so they can get to school on time.

There's only so much shutting down I can really do before it's unacceptable. How filthy can the house get before I admit I'm in trouble? How bad can the rest of life get before I ask for help?

I keep waiting for that ceiling to hit me in the head. Might take my mind off things.

Just some angle/texture/playing with lighting shots.

You Know You're in Texas When...

... You go for a drive in the country after dark, and you stick your hand out the window in gratitude for the cool air, and at least 6 bugs hit your hand before you can yank it back in the car and immediately roll up your window.

... You've heard "y'all" at least 10 times in one day, possibly from the same person, and it means "you", "your", "you're" and "yours".

... About half of the kids at school have some sort of Texas football item of clothing, backpack, or lunch box.

... You've quit trying to keep the flies away from your face, quit worrying about fire ants because you've built up an immunity, and when you see a 3" mosquito you can say with authority "eh, that's a little 'un."

... You've been greeted with a smile, nod, and a "how y'all today?" by almost everyone you pass.

... You've heard and are convinced, by enthusiasm alone, that Texas has the best chili, barbeque, football, rodeo's (not roe-Day-oh's), people, and speed limits in the country, nay, the world.

... At least 6 people on your block have either an RV, a boat, or a "spare" car.

... Each of your neighbors has a grill, and 90% of them also have a pool of any size in the backyard, and 90% of them also have a dog or dogs.


Anything to add, my dear readers?

If Then

Men are so strange. They are the ones who likely first came up with "if, then" philosophy (btw, Hi Sophie! -waves-) but when women use it to explain something to men in their native language, they act as if logic has imploded. (for those who don't know me extremely well, yes, this is all tongue in cheek. Mostly. I've had several complaints from friends and family over the past few weeks that my humor is so dry and obscure that it's simply much harder to get and then laugh at. Please, feel free to laugh during the course of this monologue even if you don't get it. And if you get it, please feel free to explain it to me as well.)

From Wikipedia:

We call X the antecedent, and Y the consequent. The material conditional is also commonly referred to as material implication with the understanding that the antecedent (X) materially implies the consequent (Y).

In other words, "if X, then Y", or "if X is true, then Y must follow and also be true." Let me give you some examples:

Ex A - If my hair looks shaggy and limp, it is time for me to get a hair cut.

(Man doesn't think that this is logical. He thinks that "if my hair looks shaggy and limp, I need to grow it out some more and just braid it." Never mind that logic as it applies to him would state "if my hair looks shaggy and limp, it is time for me to get a hair cut." He thinks that logic, though by its very nature absolute, somehow changes with his opinion and whim. Yes, I know that he and I are variables with different laws of the universe applying to each of us, but go with me on this. )

Ex B - If my house is a mess, it must be cleaned by all who are present until I become comfortable with it once more.

(Man's logic: "if my house is a mess, I should become comfortable with its current state rather than fighting the natural progression of lived-in houses.")

Ex C - If I look tired and grumpy, I should put makeup and a nicer shirt on. (So that my outward appearance reflects my inner desire, if not my current inner state.)

(Man's logic: "if I look tired and grumpy, I should go for a walk or write out a plan of attack concerning the thing I'm grumpy about or otherwise fix it or get over it. As long as it doesn't involve makeup. But you can wear makeup if you want to honey, it's just that you're beautiful without it and makeup is a mask you're hiding behind but you can wear it if you want to. Why are you looking at me like that? I'm just being honest."

And thus we observe the Man creature unwittingly digging his own grave, nailing his own coffin, and asking "may I pull the trigger for you, ma'am?")

Timeout for a second. Last night I actually was tired and grumpy. What Man did say was "Annie, should I go get some chocolate? I'll be right back." Which is more along the lines of "and thus we observe the Man creature doing everything in his power to satiate his mate with humble and considerate offerings. The Woman creature's feathers and fur smooth noticeably at this remarkable gesture and we hear surprise in her voice as she mumbles "something with peanut butter, please." The Man creature is learning wisdom.

Ex C - If we have money, we should spend it on bills (including savings and retirement) and then reserve the rest until next month when a new influx of money arrives, at which time we may spend the previous month's surplus on entertainment and pleasure.

(Man's logic: "Ooooo, money! I need a bigger TV!")

Ex D - If the lawn needs to be mowed, Man should mow it.

(Man's logic: "If the lawn needs to be mowed, we need to rent a goat.")


Men and women readers alike, are there any contributions you'd like to make?

Self Restraint Is...

Self Restraint Is

Waiting to use the NEW shampoo and conditioner until the OLD stuff runs out.

I don't know why, but this one is so hard for me.

I've been using Herbal Essences recently. Though it is more expensive than Suave, it is far thicker and more effective and smells better and thus earns its keep a lot more. There are few products for which I am genuinely willing to pay extra and feel that my money is well-spent and this is one of them.

So I've been using None of Your Frizziness and loving it. I'm going to try their Totally Twisted as soon as the old stuff runs out but the other stuff just keeps lasting. These small bottles of product have lasted for (counts on fingers) almost a month and I have half bottles left!! With Suave, I was going through about a large bottle a month. It's not as thick, see?

If I use the new stuff for just one day I might not finish the old bottle and then where would I be? I'd have 4 bottles in my shower, Man would get irritated, I'd get irritated, and I wouldn't use the old stuff at the correct rate for both the shampoo and conditioner to be done being consumed at the same time, my OCD would have a cow, and then I wouldn't be able to enjoy the new products as much as they deserve.

-sigh- It's just for the common good that I be a bit jittery in anticipation of the new shampoo and conditioner than to give in and use them before their time. Though I long for the thrill of newness, I shall remain steadfastly monogamous, or the shampoo equivalent thereof.

Then I'm going to dump its silly butt in the bin and have a party with the new fellow! I mean, shampoo.

Part 3

Monday brought a visit to Zion's National Park and our only real scare during the trip. It seems that someone mis-threaded the gas cap, so every time we went up a hill and rolled the windows down so I could take pictures, we smelled gas. I was so worried about it that I could hardly enjoy the tremendous majesty of the park. Imagine our relief and chagrin to realize our error.

We journeyed through one part of Arizona which was far more beautiful than I thought it would be. Folks, if you get a chance, go see it.

That night we stayed in Holbrook, New Mexico. This was our first night in a Holiday Inn Express which ended up being my favorite kind of hotel. The shampoo and body scrub smell awesome, their continental breakfast was also quite enjoyable, and the rooms were spacious and comfortable. This was also the beginning of the end concerning our kids' ability to be quiet and well-behaved in restaurants. We were all sick of road food.

At some point on our trek through Arizona we saw a sign that said something like “THBQE Next Right”. We burst out laughing and tried to figure out what it meant. Neither of us remembered the exact letters.

Me: Maybe is was the conference center for the Dyslexic Acronym Society.
Man: Otherwise known as SAD.

We busted a gut over that one.

We got to El Paso on Tuesday. All I saw of it was a major high way and what was directly off of it, but it looked awful. This was the second time I was truly worried about our vehicle even though it was in sight of the highway, our room window, and well-lit. It was pretty neat to see Mexico just over the river and sad to see the great contrast between the buildings that were mere yards from each other. Overall, I was pretty glad we were NOT moving to El Paso. However, it was comforting that a great sunset could be seen even in as dingy and cramped a city as this.

El Paso Sunset

The next day we traveled to our final destination for at least 6 months, if not longer. We journeyed through a handful of tiny one horse specks of towns and lots (and lots and lots and lots) of dry scrub and sandy dirt. I was beginning to think we'd end up in some backward little hole in the face in a state with which I was, thus far, less than enchanted. Shortly before arriving, our van's odometer rolled. That was kind of fun to watch. Later, in town, Man glanced down to see 100111 and declared with amusement that it was in binary. Yes, folks, we were that road-weary.

This place is a bit of a phenomenon. I've never before encountered a city that could be so completely hidden until you actually stumble into it. We only had 5, then 3, then 1 mile to go and it was nowhere in sight. We were beginning to doubt that we had taken the right road when, all of a sudden, we were surrounded by city. As we have wandered about it in the past couple of weeks, the same thing has happened a couple of times over again should we stray outside the city limits. The darn thing just disappears. If I didn't have a map or compass (or, heck, maybe even if I did) and someone put me ½ a mile outside the city, I probably wouldn't be able to find it.

We arrived at lodging and swarmed into the blessed air conditioning only to find that our quarters were intended for one person or one married couple. There was a double bed in a tiny bedroom barely big enough for the bed, a tall chest of drawers, and two itty night stands. I've seen welcome mats bigger than the kitchen or bathroom. There was a living room with a small table, couch, and tv. Man called lodging to see if anything large was available. Nope. -sigh- Princess and Pebbles shared the couch/hide-a-bed, Tag slept on a crib mattress provided by Lodging, and Frieda was in the travel crib. When we put the kids to bed, Man and I were confined to that little bedroom and as much cable tv as we could stand. Talk about motivation for finding a place to leave ASAP.

Yes, that's right. We journeyed half way across the country only to have no house to call home. Again. Thank goodness we found one the very next day. Man calle

d me up and he was very excited about it. Fenced back yard! Larger bedrooms than the ones in California! Carpeted floors! (does anyone recall my chagrin with all wood floors? Allow me to remind you. I hate HATE having all wood floors. The only kind of floor I think I'd hate more is dirt, or mud. Or maybe straw. With mice in it.) Garage! 2 blocks from the kids' school! It sounded really great, especially once he told me the price tag. I had my doubts once I heard the price but he assured me that despite a few flaws, it was great.

The first thing I noticed when we got here was the smell. It smelled like old pets, sweaty feet, and unwashed human. Each sink in kitchen and either bathroom had severe water damage under it, and it had all of the defects associated with an old house in general long-term wear and tear, and even disrepair. There's also this weird sort of nature paneling in the living room featuring ducks in different seasons, all of which manage to be barren and cold-looking (which I guess is better than desert scenes, given the temperatures we've had lately). The previous occupants had left in a hurry, leaving behind several items in the drawer under the stove, a (very pretty, I'm keeping it) spoon rest, a nebulizer chamber (ack!! someone with breathing problems! was the house causing the breathing problems??) several bracelets belonging to a small girl, and an old gift card to Victoria's Secret. They also didn't clean. Anything.

Man had already signed the lease, so I sighed and started mentally preparing for what it would take to leave this place in better condition than we found it. After a trip to the store to replenish our cleaning supplies (and a hummingbird feeder for Man) I set to with scrubbing, wiping, spraying, and scraping. I now thoroughly appreciate the cleaning guidelines the Army sticks to. On Monday, a man came to do a shoddy job of cleaning the carpets and the kids started school. On Tuesday, our household goods arrived. The electric company refused to turn on the power until Thursday. We refused to check out of Lodging until we had AC at the house. The people who brought our household goods over were supposed to unpack for us as well, but that ended up being a joke and a half. They just sort of stacked things everywhere they could find a place and I'm so glad I refused to let them touch my kitchen. It would have been even more of a nightmare. All week I had mini panic attacks every time I looked around my house because the landslide of absolute chaos was almost more than I could bear. I had gone to such great lengths to organize my house before the packers got there only to find that each box had such a horrible mish-mash of only heaven knows what and I just felt sick about the whole thing.

We've decided that since it was such a horrible experience that, in the future, we'd pack our own darn house and then hire strong backs to help load the moving van. It'd be far less of a pain on either end. We also found that the packers packed a few things verboten: jars of oil and sugar the kids gave me for mother's day, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and a quart-sized glass bottle of balsamic vinegar. They were indiscriminate concerning which plastic totes they would empty and which they'd leave full, and which ones they'd stuff with other random things to pack the contents more tightly. Half of my beading supplies ended up in a plastic tote containing our metal bar puzzles, the other half went into a linens box. The kids' clothing, books, and toys were all thrown together. They emptied out our Christmas boxes and farmed the contents out among other books. Man's books from his previous courses were literally mashed together in a box and are permanently bent. Our dance pads are melted from the temperatures our things were stored at and the kids' computer monitor is warped and broken from those same temperatures. My craft supplies were taken from the drawers they were in, stuffed among computer things, and the drawers were refilled with random items they couldn't stuff anywhere else.

You who know me well will understand that I was on the teetering edge of simply fleeing into the night, screaming in pure, gibbering terror.

It was then that we decided that nothing is worth this level of pain and frustration. As much stuff as we had, we have less. As much stuff as we have, we shall have a mere fraction. Ruthlessness is the word, and every week we will throw away at least one box of stuff. Something that surprised me though is that we only had 6,000+ pounds of stuff. We're authorized 8,000. Can you freakin' imagine another 2,000 pounds of CRAP??? What would I have done with myself?

So, anyway, we've met our new ward which is just tiny and so friendly. Our landlord is a very nice old man who is so good with the kids and came over right away to fix things up for us. The kids' teachers are very nice and the school is really great. I think that the lunches here look so much healthier than the ones in California (in CA, they had fried foods at least 3 times a week; here, they have fried stuff only once a week or less and both a fruit and a vegetable with every meal) and Man will have just the tiniest bit of homework to bring home relative to the 6 hours every night he used to have.

All in all, I'm pretty pleased with how things are going so far. It could have been worse, it could have been better, but I'm setting to with a will. We have no dishwasher or garbage disposal, we had to buy a fridge and a lawnmower, and I'm still sorting my way through the landslide. On the other hand, we already have three families of friends, the weather is cooling a bit, we have 4-5 hummingbirds who love Man's feeder, and we're happy.

I still have time to plant some summer squash but, you know... “I have enough work to do today” as the hymn goes.

Whew! And now, on to the hum-drum adventures!

Pt 2

Thursday was a nice day. Man went to the house and waited for the movers. By the time they were done and we got to the house, I was psyched out to tear into the cleaning. Despite weeks of trying to wash all walls, dust all cobwebs, deep clean both bathrooms, and wash all blinds, clearing everything out of the unit was depressingly revealing. What's more, there was a ton of stuff that got left behind including several (clean) trash cans, my hand brooms, cleaning buckets, and many, many pounds of dried food that couldn't be taken because it was open. It was all piled on the front lawn.

I set to with a will and a fear. A pay and go cost $170. Could I earn $170 in two hours? I was sure going to try. I said a little prayer in my heart: “Lord, I am going to do this. I'm going to put my effort into this and the rest is up to You. I'd like to pass inspection and prove to myself that I can leave a place clean. This home has served us well and I'm grateful for it but please, I'm tired. Carry me.”

I started to sing Come, Come Ye Saints.

Come, come ye saints.
No toil nor labor fear.

I thought that this was a very appropriate beginning as I began to wash the floor in the master bedroom. Right in the middle of the floor was a tube of KY Jelly that the movers didn't load up. That was pretty embarrassing.

But with joy wend your way.
Though hard to you this journey may appear,
Grace shall be as your day.

I thought about this. All of the stress of getting medic

al records and clearing quarters, all of the difficulties we'd faced while living here drifted through my mind. I thought about the grace that I'd experienced in the form of friends who I love so dearly, and growth so dearly bought.

'Tis better far for us to strive
Our useless cares from us to drive.

After singing that part I realized that worrying about passing this inspection was not a care I particularly wanted to be burdened with. I smiled and suddenly it was easier to wipe more hand prints off of the walls and scrape up ancient nail polish drips.

Do this and joy! Your hearts will swell.
All is well, all is well.

We borrowed a wagon from a friend to ship all of the leftover useful cleaning supplies up the street to a neighbor who could use them and started hauling all of the leftover garbage up to the dumpster that lived several blocks away. The inspector arrived and frowned at the trash all over the front lawn but I set my smile and kept hauling. By the time I came back for the final load, he was done inspecting and was driving away. In my head I was picking a fight with him, thinking about all my arguments for why I should pass regardless of his stinking rules. Man greeted me with a grin, hugged me, and thanked for me saving us $170. I could barely even smile at that, wearily said a “thank you” prayer and finished the last of the hauling. We loaded up the kids in the van and headed home. Home, to our hotel room because that's the place we all gathered together to sing songs and pray that night. The next day, we enjoyed our time as much as we could (meaning, we were virtually comatose from exhaustion) before Man signed out from post, and we started our trip for real.

The drive to Bakersfield, CA was a pain. It was our first real taste of the bitter heat the rest of the nation was enduring. We had to stop to nurse the baby to sleep that night and even 15 mins of parking after the sun had gone down was enough to choke us with plain, stinking HOT. We stayed at a Hampton Inn, which sounded really posh. They had those washcloth fans in the bathrooms and ugly but expensive looking decor.

The one thing the Hampton has going for it in a major way is the really great continental breakfast. They have an awesome, hot, tasty continental breakfast which was easily worth $30-40 for the 6 of us, which made up for how much more expensive the room was.

Saturday, we drove through Nevada and the Mojave Desert. I taught Princess how to put water in her hand and wet her neck and face to cool off. Freida also loved this trick and we learned quickly how to help her calm down if she got uncomfortable at rest stops.

Las Vegas appeared to be just as we left it about 4 years ago: Sin City. I'm sure it has its good points, but the billboards are not one of them.

St George, Utah was a nice town. We stayed at the Hampton again, but this one was newer and wasn't ugly in the slightest. Sunday morning we decided to take an outside table for breakfast which was a great idea, since we ended up spilling so much cereal and juice that I'm sure they had to hose down the ground after we left. This is the hotel where I discovered that Orange and Spice Celestial Seasonings tea with hazelnut creamer is one of the tastiest beverages I've ever consumed. This is also the hotel where we took the kids to the pool an

d Pebbles and Tag learned the hard way that going into the deep end before learning to swim results in lungsful of water. Pebbles hasn't requested a trip to the pool since. No 911 calls or anything, but plenty of coughing and cuddling afterward.

We had an excellent visit with Man's grandparents. I'd never before had a chance to get to know them without a whole lot of other family around and it was neat to see them on a more personal level.. I got to see plenty of pictures of Man's father and heard all kids of stories from the last 80+ years of this nation's history and one man's personal history. I

was surprised at how enjoyable the whole experience was. And it was my first ever visit to Chuck-A-Rama. That was some good eats. Man's grandpa is a man who has known power and control his whole life. His descent into infirmity has been very hard on him. He still attempts to walk with stability and strength and left the room when he had to go on his oxygen or take another handful of pills to ward off what looked like heart attacks. He was so kind to our children and just loved talking about history, politics, weather, geography, and human nature. Grandma is a bright, sharp lady whose understanding, kindness, patience, determination are just brilliant to behold. Her hugging muscles are still working just fine after 86 years of practice.

The BIG trip summary. Part 1

Feel free to disregard. This is something like 3 weeks worth of blogging in just a few posts. I'll break it up and pepper with pics, because I love you, my readers.

The great migration.




It all started when Man got his orders. Yay! I thought. We finally know where and when. But no matter how hard I tried, it seemed that simple upkeep of the house consumed my entire day and very little headway in preparation was possible. Random things kept cropping up, like the pilfering and subsequent consumption of a little tub of Crystal Light (as evidenced by blood red fingers, face, clothing, teeth, and the floor immediately surrounding one Pebbles), the necessity of purchasing clothes for my Amazon child and my man cub whose skinny rear finally outgrew his 3T shorts, and Frieda sensing our anxiety and her own discomfort from teething and requiring constant attention in order to not scream. (Frieda has not been our most graceful teether, but oh well.)


We sorted through our belongings, making piles of things to donate, throw away, sell, take in the van, and organizing the rest of the house bit by bit since we were told that “as organized as your house is, is as organized as the packers will be.” That made total sense to me. We went through all the kids' toys and put them into organized tubs, made neat piles of linens, washed every last dish and item of cloth and kitchen appliance, and even drained all the water from the hose after washing down the outside of the house.


In the midst of these preparations we had our “pre-final” inspection, where a housing manager came to let us know what sorts of repairs we'd be responsible for taking care of with either elbow grease or with our wallet upon final check out. It was then that we were told that the housing office would be closed the very Friday when our final check out was to take place. Ack! We had packers coming on Wednesday, movers loading up our house on Thursday, and we had given ourselves a whole day to clean the darn place to pass inspection. Our new time frame gave us 2 hours. I frantically picked up the pace and ran errands and cleaned at a pace where I sometimes checked to see if I left smoking tire tracks behind myself.



Tuesday came and we packed all our bags, started packing the van, and came to the inescapable conclusion that between all of the things Man was required to bring (every item he'd been issued) and all of the luggage for a family of 6, not to mention a few things that we were sure the movers wouldn't take, we were in desperate need of a car top carrier.



REI carries one that we fell in love with.

Wednesday came and brought the packers with it. They were some nice guys who really went to town in a way I hadn't imagined. In all the times I've packed up my home I never could conceive of the idea that the whole thing could be boxed up in 6 hours. The main packer guy was nice and chatty, and we learned that he was an EMT until a couple of DUI's made him virtually unemployable. That's a great thing to know about the man who just packed my china and was then inventorying almost every earthly possession I own. Nice guy, though. Great with the kids.


That night we stayed on post lodging. It was a really sweet set up, in an old duplex complete with kitchen and our own washing machine. I was thrilled. And cable! The kids loved watching cartoons and were instantly addicted. Our determination not to have TV hooked up in our home was once again validated, especially when we felt the pull ourselves. This is also where I taught the kids how to wash their hands with bar soap. We always use liquid hand soap. It never even occurred to me that I hadn't had the chance to teach them the ancient art of bar soap use. It was a strangely bonding experience.


Before we left we took one last tour of a nature reserve here called Point Lobos which is what all of these pictures are from.