Miracles

I just sat here for 20 minutes watching my son sound out "freeonlinegames.com".
He's learning to read and write. He's such a smart kid, and I have been waiting for this for years. It's one of those little explosions of joy that come from parenthood and watching your kids grow. It makes me feel all giddy and silly inside- seeing him try and work so hard.

Even TV is a world of new things for us, as when we see words on the screen he can sound out and pick out quite a few- assuming they are on the screen long enough. Then he says "Fun with dog doesn't make sense"- so I explain that it said "Come out and have fun with your dog."

Wow, this is all I wanted for Christmas- Santa can cancel that pony order for me.

Of course- now he has to use his kid browser, "Bumpercar" to surf, and never our computer anymore- lest he misspells something and ends up on some donkey-screwing, sexual freaks of nature porn site, and starts asking questions about THOSE words.

Re: PING

Previously, I went on a mission to get TKS to institute ICMP for on base users of their cable modem service. Until now, theyhave been blocking internal IP addresses on base housing from seeing each other.

Not a good idea for those out there who want to play online games with people living on the same base as us. I can imagine many a teenager has been pissed off when they go out and spend that hard earned cash, (from screwing up my order at Burger King,) on a game to play with their classmate down the circle, only to find out they can't. I tried getting it fixed. TKS told me to get bent- so I went to the Army. I have been pursuing this ever since, and yesterday I got this eMail.

I'm happy to let you know that USAREUR has issued the required guidance to
allow TKS to activate PING on all of the on post networks in the foot
print. I have already sent this on to TKS and expect them to tell me today
when the service will be activated. I'll let you know the date and time just
as soon as I get it later today.
Best,
George

All the online gamers in the KMC will forever be indebted to me for being able to play games with their neighbors...
You're welcome.
AND Thanks ever so much to Mr. George R. in Mannheim for helping me get this done.

Lack-o-post

When we moved into base housing in the KMC we discovered one of many disturbing facts. Germans use emulsion paints... These kind of paints don't wash- unless you intent is to wash the white off the walls all together. It is a terrifying revelation the first time you take a wet sponge to a fresh crayon mark to have the sponge turn white from the paint you wipe off, and leave the crayon mark untouched and completely in tact. These walls DO NOT wash. Not a sound plan in my mind for a family housing unit, but what the hell do I know?!

My first plan? Let's go get washable glossy paint... no such animal in Germany. All paints available in the self help store are flat matte emulsion paints- even the thicker "ceiling paint". There is certainly no Sherwin Williams in the local strip mall. So I made a few phone calls to he housing office to start throwing my "nice-as-you-please" fit.

Something many people who live in base housing in Germany may not know... you are allowed to paint your walls what ever color you want, so long as you sign a form and agree to put them back to white when you leave.

I think that it came out rather nice... and I am sure it will be much more kid friendly. In any case- it explains the lack of new posts this week. It has been a harrowing project, but I am glad it is done.

Bush Still Sucks

This Article talks about the methods researchers are having to use to get around the "ethical" blocks placed on their research by the moral majority ass-bags in the administration.
Too bad they can't be using all that grant and research money on USING the cells in stead of figuring out how to get them by playing with mouse embryos... I hope Bush comes down with something that could have been cured with stem cell research if he hadn't stuffed the project on his moral high grounds.
It is Science, not religion. They (the courts) will keep bibles and God out of schools- but when it comes to the laboratory- they let Bush open the door to the religious sect and invite them in- on high horses and all.

What a bunch of Bona Fide Schmucks.

Morning Wood

As the sun rose to it's zenith yesterday, I went in to our bedroom, quiet and darkened, to awaken my husband from his long slumber- as I was tired of him sleeping while I struggled to keep the children quiet. I laid down behind my man, ever so gingerly, and gently began to wake him.

Now, my husband being a strapping, albeit typical man, rolled from beneath the protective warmth of the sheets, and the front of his shorts stuck out, in pitched tent style, as he bumbled off to the bathroom... of course I had to make a comment about the boner he was sporting, and giggle. Kevin said something about "Shut up..." and "Stop picking on me...".

(Cue comedic element: children.) They came into the room, curious about why mommy was laughing, just in time to hear daddy say in a hilariously pathetic tone from the bathroom "I can't pee."
"Why not?"
...dramatic silent pause... "Because, I can't pee."
Let it begin. I was laughing my ass off, face buried in a pillow to stifle it. His statement had sent the kids into fits of giggling... "Ha,ha,ha. Daddy can't pee.". This was not the end of the big funny.

Kevin shuffled out of the bathroom, and though he had attempted to hide his morning wood under his shirt and sleep shorts, it was still blazingly apparent... not just to me, but to the kids as well- Now, thankfully they are far too young to understand what that is, or why it is that way- but they found it side-splitting funny. Between her gasps for air, Rachel announced, "Daddy's Pee-pee is all pumped up!", while pointing at his shorts. Indeed, he looked ready for a human joust. Our son had to join right in and chimed in with the "Pumped up" statement while pointing his own finger. They were both on the floor doubled over as Kev left the room with a heavy sigh, sporting an embarrassed smirk and his prize winning boner.

Although I felt kinda bad for my poor husband, being the butt of the kid's joke, I couldn't stop laughing (screaming laughter) myself. I have now seen a 5 year old girl make a grown man blush, and run away like a little kid who got de-pantsed on the playground in third grade.

Email Received

Got this in the mail, and thought I would share... Sucks too, as I am a big Anne Rice Fan. I am sure her French Quarter Mansion is fine, by the by...
*******************************************************************************************************
Anne Rice blames America, not local officials.

"To my country I want to say this: During this crisis you failed us.
You looked down on us; you dismissed our victims; you dismissed us. You
want our Jazz Fest, you want our Mardi Gras, you want our cooking and our
music. Then when you saw us in real trouble, when you saw a tiny minority
preying on the weak among us, you called us "Sin City," and turned your
backs." - novelist and New Orleans resident Anne Rice
Let me get this straight.

Ms. Rice, you live in (what was) a very attractive city which lies
below sea level. On one side you have a giant lake; on the other side you
have the Gulf of Mexico. Running through the middle is the Mississippi
River. All of which are above you.

Preventing those giant bodies of water from flooding and drowning you
are levees. These levees are described as "century-old." People have been
warning about the devastating effects of a direct hit from a hurricane for
decades.

I've heard a great deal of complaint in recent days that the federal
government may not have allocated enough money to speed up the upgrades to
those levees. This does, however, raise the question of why city and state
residents were waiting around for the federal government to send enough
money to upgrade this, instead of paying for it themselves. I mean, it was
only your homes, businesses, and lives at stake. Perhaps these upgrades
would have been expensive. If only this city had some sort of events to
attract tourists, from which to collect taxes.

Anyway, your state and local officials decided to spend your tax
dollars on something else that they (and presumably you) found more
important, and then they waited for the rest of the country to pay for
these life-preserving necessities.

Your beloved city and region has a colorful political history, in
which there is, oh, a wee bit of corruption. I'm from New Jersey, so I
can't throw stones at that glass house. But you guys have managed to pick
leaders who give you the worst of both worlds - they're scandal ridden and
incompetent in a crisis. Look, Rudy Giuliani might have run around with
Judith Nathan before his divorce, but he was a hell of a leader in our
darkest hours. You know the National Review crowd isn't a fan of Pataki,
but the man was a rock after 9/11 compared to Governor Weepy
I'll-Evacuate-Eventually and Mayor It's-Everybody's-Fault-Except-Mine.
Nobody's throwing around the adjective "Churchillian" about any of your
officials these days. We didn't pick your local officials; you guys did.

Rice asks, "how many times did Gov. Kathleen Blanco have to say that
the situation was desperate? How many times did Mayor Ray Nagin have to
call for aid?"

Ahem. What about those buses left unused, less than a mile from the
Superdome? JunkYardBlog notes that it's written in the Southeast Louisiana
Evacuation Plan that buses are supposed to be used for evacuation of those
who don't have personal vehicles. As JYB observes, "there is something very
peculiar about a city and a state that have a plan on the books for years
that outlines what to do when a hurricane is about to strike, yet when a
hurricane comes roaring in, the responsible officials just chuck the plan
and try winging it. Delaying and then winging it in the face of a monstrous
Cat 4/5 hurricane is never, ever a good idea, especially for New Orleans."
(See more here.) Ironically, Nagin told CNN, "I need buses, man," when he
had plenty sitting around unused before the storm hit. Now they're flooded
and useless.

But it's not like state and local officials could have seen this
coming. They have never had a hurricane bearing down on them before and.
oh, wait, there was Hurricane Ivan just last year. And after that dodged
bullet, Blanco and Nagin both acknowledged they needed a better evacuation
plan.

I would note that we've seen some pretty intense disasters in other
parts of the country, like planes crashing into skyscrapers and
subsequently collapsing, earthquakes, tornadoes, blizzards, and yet
somehow, none of these disasters had the total breakdown of law and order,
civil society, etc. Jonah Goldberg's early joke about a Mad-Max style
post-apocalyptic tribal anarchy may have been in poor taste, but it has
turned out to be nightmarishly prescient.

We failed you? No, oh brilliant creator of Exit to Eden, you failed.
You might not think of it this way, but: Your leaders failed to upgrade the
levees. You elected a bunch of weepers and blame-shifters who lost their
head in a crisis.

Over the past decades, your elected officials have let a criminal
element incubate and grow until they ruled the streets, instead of the
forces of law and order. In pop culture, a New Orleans thief is always a
charming rogue with a devilish smile. In reality, they're a bunch of thugs.

If the number of residents who are looting thugs were such a "tiny
minority," we wouldn't have seen this widespread, relentless anarchy.
Madam, a noticeable number of your neighbors saw this disaster as an
opportunity to smash a window and run away with a television, an act that
reveals much about the inadequacies of the local school system, since that
thief won't be enjoying that television with any electricity anytime soon.

I would also note that this is one hell of a police force your local
officials hired and that you and your neighbors tolerated. 50 percent
turned in their badges during the crisis and quit. Your police
superintendent is conceding that some cops were looting. Just want to
refresh your memory - four years ago, New York and Washington, planes
falling out of the sky, thousands dead, no idea what the hell is coming
next. and the cops, among others, showed up to work.

To save you guys now, I - and a lot of other Americans - will pitch
in. We are witnessing the biggest mobilization of civilian and military
rescue and relief crews in history. But I have a sneaking suspicion you're
going to want the rest of us to pay for the rebuilding of your city. (In
the near future, we're going to have to have a little chat about the wisdom
of building below sea level, directly next to large bodies of water.) And
if you're going to come to the rest of us hat in hand, demanding the rest
of us clean up after your poor judgment, I'd appreciate a little less "you
failed us" and a little more "we've learned our lesson."

- Jim Geraghty is reporting from Ankara, Turkey, where the locals
keep asking him how something like this could happen in America.

9 and 16 days...

The countdown has begun for me, and like a ticking clock to my personal armageddon, I am racing to beat the odds.

We have about 9 days until I have to get my big ass in the car and drive to Frankfurt to pick up my father who is inbound for his vacation... Which means all those little projects I have been putting off now have a new found urgency. Not that he cares if my planters on the patio are full of ragged dead shit- it almost compliments the impending season of scare- but I hate looking at it. So, as I head outside to fill my fingers full of dead rose thorns and cover my jeans with potting soil, I chastise myself for having put it off so long.

16 days until Halloween. I have just put the finishing touches onto Rachel's sleeping beauty costume. Between her and Heidi, I have been looking at pink fabric so long that I may be going for a nice rest in one of those small white padded rooms on the 1st of November. I have still yet to start Kevin's or Scott's costume- and there is always the matter of my dad's. I have bolts of fabric standing against my walls- like soldiers there to remind me of the work still to be done, and quietly drive me insane with glaring stares.

It is increasingly difficult to make house projects and spring cleaning type things happen at the same time as throwing bits of thread and fabric on the floor. And so, I return again to the mental argument between me and myself of why I put off the "projects" for so very long... The store room, the patio, rearranging my whole kitchen... I may end up shortening that list, as it threatens to keep me awake like a crack fiend for weeks if I don't set a few priorities.

Ultimately, it comes down to the core of what has always been the idiom of my life- If it weren't for the last minute, nothing would ever get done.

Men's Oddity

It has occurred to me why so many more women then men are bulimic. As it is a disease one hides from those around them, men would be too easily found out. I am curious to know why they do it, but they do it for sure.

Every man I have ever known- from my father up to my husband and my friends- EVERY SINGLE ONE- finds it necessary (perhaps uncontrollable), to scream into the toilet bowl when they puke. Not just a little hurl noise, as you might hear from behind the closed door of a woman's sickness, followed by a splash, but a full on wall rattling holler, that eclipses the noise of any splash.

I remember nights of my father having the flu when I was a kid- I used to think he was being slowly killed in some torturous painful way... perhaps gutted by a savage with a bowie knife. As I lay in my bed pretending to sleep- using my pillow over my face to muffle the giggles, I would listen, knowing I would wake up with a terrible gut ache from laughter.

My husband? Sounded like he was being stepped on by an elephant while trying to scream for help... as if some giant beast was mashing him to death under some great weight in the bathroom. This noise, of course, is only amplified by the acoustics of a toilet bowl and a small tiled room. Me? I sat on the floor in the bedroom immobilized by laughter at the sound. Sure, I felt bad that he was ill- but was overcome by the horrifically hilarious noise across the way. The only thing funnier than that, is the after thought that the bathroom window was wide open, and I sure he scared the piss out of at least a few cats... I can imagine them running for fear of death from the great growling screaming monster echoing through the woods.

I am a terrible person... but holy shit, it was funny.

First Times, and a "Moment.."

Captain Morgan is an evil bastard, and I think we shall no longer be socializing with him. He has provided me a fun filled morning full of hung over man, and scrubbing the husband's vomit off the door jamb of the laundry room.... The husband will of course be miserable, as this is the first time in his life he has puked from liquor consumption. I have done it many times- thankfully, not recently. I have to take it easy on him, though.... being his first time and all- he now knows the pain I have experienced.

"The Moment"
Ever have one of those nights when you or those around you drink too much- to the point having that "moment"? In "Wayne's World" it was the "I Love You, Man," Moment... however in the real world, just saying Thank You is never enough.

It's that night when your buddy drinks WAY more than you, then decides to corner you on the way to the bathroom, to have one of those "moments"? Slurring they say... "You know what? You're alright. I really think you're pretty cool." Then they come at you, stumbling like the movie zombie, arms outstretched to lock you up in a bear hug. A very odd hug, indeed, as the inebriated hugger takes the mostly sober huggie on a bobbing and weaving adventure in balance control. He is of course, during the hug, slurring and spouting more words of undying devotion and friendship into your shoulder. It's sweet, but there comes a time, very soon when you want them to let go, as you fear they will take you down with them in a spin of death slam to the floor.

It was not only Scott- because when I got home, Heidi called to tell me Scott was walking about the kitchen hollering and looking for food like a grizzly bear invading a campsite, and told me that it was about time that her husband cornered me for "a moment", as Kevin has been doing it to her during our partying nights together. Except that her moments are more along the lines of Kevin thinks she dislikes him in some way, and he is very apologetic about... something... but she doesn't know what- as by that point she is laughing her ass off.

The worst were the moments they had to have in front of us with each other- I swear I saw a tear in their eyes. Male bonding at it's best. "I love you, man. I am gonna miss you so bad when you leave. You're my best...(sniffle)... friend I have ever made in the Air Force..." blah blah blah, then they grab each other as if in the throws of a fight to the death and hug each other- and try not to fall down doing it.

Back Pat

There are those rare moments in life that I stand back and look at my own ingenuity and impress myself. Today's moment came as I laid and tried to take a much needed nap- all the while the rumination of the dress I am making for my friend kept regurging in my head.... How to fix the fit to compensate for her enormous tits?! (Starting out I didn't realize how big they were.)

It came to me in a flash exactly how to alter the pattern to make it just right, and since I couldn't sleep anyways with my brain running at mach 4, I went ahead and added an extra 6 inches to the bodice top. (Tig-ol-biddies). I am so thoroughly impressed with the result of my brain fart, that I had to come on and blog about it....

Now if I could only figure out the perfect (and marketable) way to stop the CONSTANT fighting and mess making of (my) children, I could be a millionaire.

Not Fair

Now, being a wife, and not active duty, I can say pretty much anything I want, but I do need to disclaim that this is MY site, not husband's, and my opinion is my own- not his... so if you know who I am, and who he is- don't jump his ass for what I write.

It has become increasingly apparent that my husband's boss is a great big Pain In The Ass.
Most people in the KMC are off work today. It's called a "Family Day"- which is a friday off before a three day weekend. Is my husband home helping me corral the children? No.

His commander, in his infinite wisdom has decided that they will not be taking the day off- but will have a mandated fuck off day- but they have to do it together. Today, they are bowling, instead of spending the family day with their family, like 95% of the rest of the workers in this area of Germany, (including the kids- as there is no school). This guy has to be different. He has to be a p^$@!.

"Well, I (I- I am so important), don't think you should have the day off, no matter what the rest of the base is doing- so let's go waste out collective time playing softball or bowling. You all enjoy spending what should be your free time with your co-workers, right? Especially me."

With many of the things that have gone on in that shop, it has become painfully apparent this guy is a total megalomanic. He is completely high on himself ad his "power" over the minions...he really thinks much of himself. I think the whole thing sucks.

Hate the Wait

Why would a pediatric clinic tell you to check in for your appointment 15-20 minutes early?
Especially when you call them and ask for an afternoon appointment, so you don't have to take them out of school- but DO have to bust ass getting them to the clinic after class, in order to meet the requirement of 20 minutes early.

His scheduled time was 3:30. I arrived at 3:06... not just on time, but early to boot. Yay, me. We sat, and watched Monsters, Inc. Tickity tick tick.... 3:25... 3:30... 3:40. Tickity tick, assholes. Getting more and more steeped as I sat there stewing in my bitchery soup, I walked up to the window at 3:45- (pre-armed with the information that 3:30 is the last appointment of the day).

I nicely asked how much longer it would be, as the children's boredom had me worried they would begin to lick the paint from the pretty art work on the walls at any moment. The Air-baby at the counter said we were next to be called. I managed, with this news, to pull my anger down to a simmer, and headed back to the seats my children were flipping turns over and bouncing on. Fuck em- they make me wait this long- they can buy some new ugly couches...

The technician came out- I grabbed my purse, as she said "Conners", and took another family back in the office. (WTF does "next" mean to you?) Credits were rolling across the screen of Monsters, Inc. Another 10 minutes I waited to watch yet another child and parent be taken back to be seen- The TV was doing that fabulous white noise thing that I normally would find soothing, were I not in the waiting room of the ninth ring of hell.

All the clinics were closing. The lab shut their front window, and still I sat there.

By the time they finally called me back, I was back to a rolling boil. Absolutely livid. My boy's temperature, weight, height, BP and other such routine physical things we taken. I wasn't there for a routine physical, but might as well get it done now. She said the doc would be in soon and disappeared.

Tick, tick, tick, tick, fucking TICK. 20 minutes, and the kids trying to get into the medical equipment, and seeing if they could fly by flapping really hard and jumping off the medical bed... Mom had become Vesuvius on legs. Poking my head out of the door was reminiscent of those horror movies where someone is locked in the corridors of an abandoned hospital in the middle of the night... I swear I heard a cricket chirp. Like the heroine in those shitty movies, I went in search of ANYONE. Only took me 10 minutes.

I asked how much longer I would be, and was told the doctor I was scheduled with was in with another patient. Now, either this was one worrisome basket case of a parent, or this doctor is painfully slow, as she had been in with same said patient since BEFORE I got to the clinic.

I, as pretty as you can imagine a crazy pissed off bi-polar woman with two kids climbing walls could be, asked the tech to find me another doctor, as all I needed was a referral to someone else. She sent in another doctor- I think she realized the jeopardy her life would have been in would she not have done so.

The doc I got looked like any other pediatrician would look after a long day of treating sniffles and sneezes and ADHD kids- tired. She asked my son to walk for her, but with his jeans, she couldn't see his feet. So, we asked him to take his pants off, and the child who not 3 days ago walked butt-assed naked and dripping into the living room, developed a sudden case of modesty. Even after sending his baby sister into the hallway, I still had to pin him down and wrestle a him for his pants... Imagine one of those nature shows where men wrestle alligators... You would have thought I was trying to pull his very skin off. Once this had been accomplished, she carried him to the far side of the exam room, and told him to walk to me- which he did- HEEL, TOE. Not the normal tip toe-tip toe gait that had brought us to the appointment in the first place.

Ever hit that point of pissed where you have to laugh? The frustration level is so high that there is nothing left but a chuckle at the situation? That snicker that starts out quiet and races upwards until it turns into a steam vent and a scream- usually with the self mutilation of hair pulling.... We walked out of the building at 5:24, from our 3:30 (and be 20 minutes early) appointment.

By the time we got to the car I had resorted to bribes. I paid for my children's silence on the drive to the commissary... and by that point I was happy to fork it over, as I knew once we got to the store, they would be over flowing with lots of great ideas of what we can buy today, like great jet fountains, their mouths would run over.

Gee, boy, I can't wait to get ahold of Tri-care on monday when they try to refer me off-base for his physical therapy, and I have to convince them that it is the WRONG thing to do... after today, I pity the foo' who tells me no.

Fickle

One thing I have noticed during my marriage to my husband- and he assures me it is the same with all fans of New England Sports Teams... when they are winning, they are heros. When they lose, they are the biggest scum sucking, useless, candy ass whores on the face of the planet. There is a unique and deeply ingrained fickleness to these fans.

Tonight, we had to watch the Patriots suck, and get walked all over by San Diego. Tom Brady got called every name in the book, (and a few besides)- including retarded, a useless asshole, and a piece of shit. It is not just the Patriots- I have heard the Red Sox called many a dirty name these past nine years as well. Even from one play to another- talk about hero to zero, (in 2.5 seconds flat).

Having inquired about this love/hate relationship with his teams, my husband has told me it is the crux of being a sports fan from Bean-town. It is a normal thing, apparently where he comes from. If you are winning, you are a gem- losing, you're a detestable worthless, brainless, helpless, hopeless sack of monkey-shit... (not to mention a terrible disappointment). The fans don't just root against the other team, but the begin to hate the members of their own team as they make a downward slide towards defeat. These fans take it personally.

The game tonight was a shambles... Kevin may end up burning my Brady Jersey in effigy.