Neal Boortz was talking about the lottery earlier today as I drove home from the commissary, and I couldn't believe my ears. He said he had read a study a while back that said that 50% of respondants said they planned to use lottery winnings to retire. I've been searching and cannot find this study, but I did find this:

Twenty-one percent of those surveyed said a lottery would be the most practical strategy for accumulating several hundred thousand dollars, and that percentage was higher among lower-income people, with 38% of those who earn less than $25,000 pointing to the lottery as a solution.

Some Americans "both greatly overestimate their chances of hitting a lottery jackpot, and greatly underestimate their ability to build six-figure wealth by patiently making regular savings contributions over time," said Stephen Brobeck, executive director of CFA, in a telephone press conference.

Knock me over with a feather.

This ties in nicely with a blog post AirForceWife sent to me yesterday. FrugalDad wrote a blog post called Language of the Perpetual Poor, which contained this gem:

If you are ever around a gas station on Friday night you see them lined up at the counter forking over $20 of their hard-earned paycheck for their chance at financial glory. And just try telling them that $20 a week in a mutual fund averaging 8% growth for 30 years adds up to $130,000. Who can afford to invest in mutual funds?

So there you go, there's your six figures. Shoot, you'd be better off putting the money in a coffee can, as one commenter said she started doing instead of going on on the office pool.

In searching for these shocking lottery statistics, I also came across this anecdote to put it all in perspective:

"'Suppose you have one friend in Canada. If you put the names of everyone in Canada in a hat and draw one name at random, you are 2.5 times more likely to draw your friend's name than you are to win the Big Game,' according to Cal State-Hayward statistics professor Michael Orkin."

Heh.

A big problem is that people are so mathematically ignorant that they don't even understand these odds. Here's how bad it is:

The study also identified a strong relation between financial literacy and retirement planning. Persons who understood finances more were more likely to take charge and plan for their retirement. Financial literacy was judged on the basis of being able to answer simple financial questions including:

“If the chances of getting a disease are 10 per cent, how many people out of 1,000 would be expected to get the disease?” Answer: 100. (Percentage of people answering correctly: 84.)

“If 5 people all have the winning number in the lottery and the prize is $2 million, how much will each of them get?” Answer: $400,000. (Percentage of people answering correctly: 56.)

“Let’s say you have $200 in a savings account paying 10% per year interest. How much would you have in the account at the end of two years?” Answer: $242. (Percentage of people answering correctly: 18.)

This is just basic stuff, people. Yikes.

There are only two tricks to investing for long-term financial success: early and often. The lottery doesn't enter into it.

Posted by: Sarah at 07:03 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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An astute observation on how Obama and Clinton are tearing the Democrats in half:

Also, heard from a smart conservative strategist a day or so ago... this is what happens when your party is made up of groups that want government to do things for them (and spend time and resources) vs. when your party is made up of groups that want government to get off their backs and go away.

Government dollars, even with high tax rates, are finite. Sooner or later, a dollar has to be spent on either environmental protection or worker retraining programs, on scholarships or on expanding Social Security, on government-run health care or foreign aid, on infrastructure programs or on open space preservation. Sooner or later, a Democratic leader can only split the difference so much, and more resources will go to one instead of the other. Someone will feel shortchanged, resentments will build. Besides money, there's the finite resource of time, focus, and energy of lawmakers.

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Peggy Noonan is good squishy today. I'm not even going to excerpt because you need to read the whole thing.

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I wrote over at SpouseBUZZ about my pre-deployment stress. With the fertility and my husband leaving, I have not been at peak mental performance lately. So how could I make it worse? How about reading the most stressful and awful book I've ever picked up.

I found the book The Airman and the Carpenter: The Lindbergh Kidnapping and the Framing of Richard Hauptmann for fifty cents at the Goodwill. I thought I'd grab it and learn a little about the Trial of the Century.

I can't read this book for more than a chapter at a time. I cry too much. I get knots in my stomach and shortness of breath. I cry out in anguish and my husband has to ask me what they did this time. When I set the book down at night, I rant endlessly to my husband. I pace the room, I raise my voice, and I can't calm down.

I've even dreamt about Charles Lindbergh.

The Trial of the Century was a joke. It was a farce and a disaster. They executed an innocent man because they had no better suspect. Everyone who took the stand lied. Flat out lied: cops, expert witnesses, Lindbergh himself. God, how this book has made me hate Charles Lindbergh. They planted evidence, coached witnesses, tricked Hauptmann into damning himself, destroyed documents and evidence that exonerated him, and laid out a boatload of perjury as the truth.

And Hauptmann lost his life.

This website does a pretty good job of laying out the absurdities of the case and lining up the questions that Hauptmann's defense lawyer should have asked. Only he didn't, because he too thought Hauptmann was guilty. So throughout the entire trial, he only spent 40 minutes conferring with his client.

This book has gotten me in such a tizzy that I can't stand it. I find the whole thing so disgusting and reprehensible. I can't even recommend the book because it's too painful to read. I'm glad I learned about it, but it literally makes me sick to my stomach to read it.

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Just this morning, I was thinking about that mom who got arrested for leaving her child in the car while she put money in the Salvation Army bin. I watched a mom strap her kid into the car at Walmart, take her groceries out of her cart, and then leave the cart right in the middle of the parking lot instead of pushing it to one of the cart corrals. I hate when people do this! But I got to thinking, would she get in trouble for leaving her child unattended as she put her cart away? That's the same distance as it was to the Salvation Army bin.

I seriously thought about this all day, about moms who don't stray from child's side. I thought a lot about my own childhood, and about CaliValleyGirl's (she should regale you with tales of her childhood independence), and about leaving a child alone in the car for a few moments.

So I was fascinated to find this article this evening:

Would you let your fourth-grader ride public transportation without an adult? Probably not. Still, when Lenore Skenazy, a columnist for the New York Sun, wrote about letting her son take the subway alone to get back to her Manhattan home from a department store on the Upper East Side, she didn't expect to get hit with a tsunami of criticism from readers.

"Long story short: My son got home, ecstatic with independence," Skenazy wrote on April 4 in the New York Sun. "Long story longer: Half the people I've told this episode to now want to turn me in for child abuse. As if keeping kids under lock and key and helmet and cell phone and nanny and surveillance is the right way to rear kids. It's not. It's debilitating—for us and for them."

I honestly think it's cool that she let her kid ride the subway. I was only a little older than he when I rode my bike to school, an event which I immortalized when I previously wrote about letting kids have freedom:

On my last day of fifth grade, my mom let me ride my bike to school. Some of my friends who lived closer to the school got to ride their bikes often, but we lived in a neighborhood that was further away and so I was a bus-riding kid. (Oh, and every day my brother and I walked down the street to the bus stop and waited alone.) But finally my mom said I was old enough to earn the right to ride my bike to school. I just google mapped it, and it seems I rode roughly two miles. And I felt SO COOL. I was one of the big kids now. I was independent. I had Done Something Awesome. And without a helmet.

My mom and I talked about that not too long ago. She says looking back she can't believe all the parents let their kids ride bikes to school. And she's not sure she'd let me do it today. Even she has a hard time remembering when cartoon characters didn't need helmets.

I needed to ride that bike to school. Heck, I still remember it. As a crowning achievement, as a milestone, as a step on the way to Growing Up. The thing that scares me is wondering if I will be able to let my kids take those steps too.

The Newsweek article says this:

Back in 1972, when many of today's parents were kids, 87 percent of children who lived within a mile of school walked or biked every day. But today, the Centers for Disease Control report that only 13 percent of children bike, walk or otherwise get themselves to school.

My husband is pretty adamant that we won't be driving our kid to his bus stop. And likely we won't have to; the local bus stop seems to stop every 100 feet to let a new kid out right in front of his house. We want to have a relaxed and groovy approach to parenting. (Ha, the last thing Sarah is is relaxed and groovy.)

Of course, these feelings are all theoretical. I want to be a cool, independence-fostering mom. But I've also been plagued by hovering thoughts.

I know a couple, they tried for eight years to have their daughter. She was born dangerously premature, and she ended up being their only child. She's now 30, and when I think about how hard it was for them to have this child, I wonder how they ever let her leave the house. How did they let her ride a bike or start driving or go to college? How did they ever let her out of their sight? She was irreplaceable. Literally.

Since having a baby has proven so hard, I can imagine it will be even harder to let my kid become independent. I will have to really work at not smothering the kid.

I will have to remind myself how I felt when I rode that bike to school. My kid needs to feel that too.

UPDATE:

Oh good heavens: I Left My Son in San Francisco.

Posted by: Sarah at 12:29 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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The last time my husband left, it was buying shampoo that made me realize he was leaving. This time it was tortillas.

I pack lunches for my husband to eat at work, and usually I make him wraps. As I bought a ten-pack of tortillas today, I realized that that's all he'll need. There are about ten more work days until he's gone.

Boy, that hit me like a ton of bricks. It snuck up on me fast. The shampoo realization came four months ahead of time. This time I've been a lot more distracted.

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1 <>

Posted by: Vonn at April 24, 2008 09:11 AM (gNLi0)

2 HUGS

Posted by: vonn at April 24, 2008 09:11 AM (gNLi0)

3 Mine was red bull. He lives on the crap I cant stand it. I bought a big pack and only once I got it home and in the fridge did I realize that a lot of it was going to be sitting around. for a while. hang in there

Posted by: lea at April 24, 2008 09:38 AM (NJQf+)

4 Man! Leave it to tortillas. We're here to listen...or, well, read anyway. {{Hugs}}

Posted by: Guard Wife at April 24, 2008 09:54 AM (boSOD)

5 ouch, that is coming fast I hope you enjoy those last days... somehow my dh and I always manage to fight as if that will make the disengaging easier. I wish some good memories for you both before he goes.

Posted by: dutchgirl at April 24, 2008 10:29 AM (+usWx)

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I finished my Magknits t-shirt yesterday, and I am loving it. I already have plans to make another.

It's not easy to take a photo of yourself with the camera timer and try to get the dog to look cute, your new sweater to look cute, and to not look like you have a bald spot. Two outta three ain't bad, right?

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1 Loving that t-shirt!!! I all three look great.

Posted by: Guard Wife at April 23, 2008 05:18 AM (BslEQ)

2 I'm dropping words apparently...I think all three of you look fantastic.

Posted by: Guard Wife at April 23, 2008 05:18 AM (BslEQ)

3 My husband used to work for a paycheck advance company. For many it was helpful and no one was forced to take out a loan. At one point a politician decided the military should not be charged the current rate and made the rate to low for the company to make money. They would lose money at the rate required. So what did the company do? Stopped loaning money to soldiers. The net effect? No loans when they may have needed it.

Posted by: Amy at April 23, 2008 03:17 PM (dgUV8)

4 Opps! Wrong post!

Posted by: Amy at April 23, 2008 03:18 PM (dgUV8)

5 So cute!

Posted by: Erin at April 24, 2008 03:31 AM (y67l2)

6 That is so cute. I might have to make one. I'm trying to find a local source for soysilk at the moment.

Posted by: Mare at April 24, 2008 05:25 AM (EI19G)

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John Stossel echoes a point I was trying to make via email to Sis B:

Politicians love a "crisis." John McCain, Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama all think that the government should bail out homeowners who can't pay their mortgages. When they say the government should do this, they mean the taxpayers, including those who are paying their mortgages. They also think the government should regulate the lending and investment industries further.

Why?

Because "crisis" justifies making government bigger.

It's why we now have a global warming "crisis" and in previous years we had "crises" over avian flu, the Y2K threat to computers, imaginary cancer spikes caused by pesticides, killer bees flying up from Mexico, and uncontrolled population growth leading to a "Population Bomb" that will bring "riots and mass starvation" by the year 2000.

In my email, I mentioned the HBO series John Adams and remarked how deeply it struck me when John Adams told Congress that it wasn't his place to give his opinion when they were deadlocked. Imagine any politician today saying it's not his place to give his opinion! Nowadays, politicans tie millions of dollars to their opinions and give both out freely. And imagine telling our early presidents that they need to help people pay for their homes or stop the spread of disease. No way that was the government's job back then. But it sure is now. Hurricane hit your city? Free trailers for everyone. And here's a voucher to go buy a new Gucci purse.

The term "predatory lending" just gets my goat. Forced lending? Ha. You can't make someone borrow money from you. If you make $30,000 a year and bought a $400,000 house, it's no one's fault but your own. I wish John Adams could be here today to stare incredulously at those people's faces and tell them to get real.

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Lileks is a gem:

You know, it may be hard to find a candidate who doesnÂ’t belong to a church whose leader delivers eyebrow-singing speeches on the evils of America and also built a house Jim Bakker would approve, and it may be hard to find a candidate who doesnÂ’t move with ease in the same social circles as some people who bombed the Pentagon, but it canÂ’t be that hard to find one who doesnÂ’t do both.

Speaking of gems, my husband's ego grew about two sizes after the previous post. Now he's walking around the house talking about how great he is.

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Once again, I have the perfect set-up to rave about my husband. The internet makes it too easy, I swear.

John Hawkins found the most horrific article about why men don't do housework. Now there's room for complaining about my husband and his violent toothbrushing (the man brushes his teeth so hard that he sprays everywhere, showering the bathroom in white spots), which I have been known to gripe about on the phone with certain valley girls from Cali. But this article, it's just too much.

And yet everyone acts as if Jeremy deserves some kind of medal just for making a run to the supermarket. No one has ever suggested that I’m a heroine for doing the things every mother is expected to do. I admit that my husband helps out more than many men, but here’s another news flash: It isn’t because he’s such a fabulously enlightened being. Left to his own devices, he would doubtless park himself in front of the TV like some sitcom male-chauvinist couch potato while I did all the work. The reason Jeremy “helps” as much as he does (an offensive terminology that itself suggests who’s really being held responsible) is simple: He doesn’t have a choice.

Wow.

OK, I'll say it. My husband does deserve a medal for helping me around the house. I do most of the housework, and I'm darned lazy at it. Right now I am blogging in the middle of the day with election coverage on the TV, and I just set down my crochet project to pick up the laptop. La-zy. I did do several loads of laundry earlier, cleaned out my husband's dresser drawers, took out the trash, weeded the front flowerbeds, and unloaded and loaded the dishwasher. But really, I still had time to watch two Laws & Orders, make a preemie hat, talk on the phone with Erin, my mom, and my mother-in-law, and eat several pieces of candy on the sofa. The fact that my husband helps make dinner, change the sheets, and load the dishwasher is indeed a sign of his sainthood. Because he woke up at 0430 this morning to spend more than 12 hours at work and then will come home to study for an economics final.

I'm the one who would doubtless park myself on the sofa all day, watching cop dramas and knitting to my heart's content. I clean up the house because I don't have a choice. It's my job since I don't have a job. And once he deploys, I won't have anyone around to shame me into doing housework. The house will probably be a disaster. Charlie sure ain't gonna pull his weight.

I'm lucky my husband puts up with piles of yarn, laundry, and dirty dishes at all. He could easily chew my butt for not working harder around the house while he's at work all week and getting his MBA on the weekends. But he doesn't care, as long as food's on the table and his socks are clean. And he'd have every right to ask me to do more. The oven needs cleaning, as do the windowsills.

I am the one who counts my blessings around here.

My husband is a dream.

Posted by: Sarah at 12:16 PM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
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1 Lazy housewomen (I'm not a wife) of the world, unite!

Posted by: Anwyn at April 21, 2008 01:32 PM (dzxw9)

2 See...the funny thing is, if this woman changed the oil in their car, she would believe she deserved a medal and accolades too. However, she doesn't seem to think that Jeremy deserves any props for doing his chores...it's like she acts like he doesn't do ANYTHING in their relationship. I mean, does he maybe pack the car, when they go on a roadtrip? Book their travel plans? Hook up their new DVD player? Figure out the digital sprinkling system? I mean, there have got to be loads of things the guy is doing that she is too blind to see, because she "takes them for granted", just as he might be doing with her housekeeping...

Posted by: CaliValleyGirl at April 21, 2008 02:15 PM (U2RJu)

3 I've never wanted to have a wife who did not have her own career. I've always wanted to be in a marriage where we would each juggle our jobs, housework, the kids, everything. That being said, if one of the partners is not currently employed, then the other partner has every right to expect the vast majority of the housework to be done by that unemployed person. She may be right. She may contribute more to the relationship than her husband. However, it seems unlikely to me that if he works and she doesn't, and if he contributes (whether through intimidation or through generosity) around the house, that the disparity is so great to be worthy of a newspaper column telling the world how bad her husband is. It sounds to me that they need to get some counseling to get an outside perspective.

Posted by: Rob Howell at April 21, 2008 06:19 PM (eRTMi)

4 I am the housekeeper by default, too, for the same reason--I happen to be here. My frequent bouts with domestic laziness never gets comments either, like you, and also promotes the hubby to rock star status. Lucky for me, he has an immense amount of patience. The DH has his chores and I thank him every time he does them, just so he knows that I notice and appreciate that he does it in addition to working, taking online college courses, and now coaching little league. Rock stars, I tell you!

Posted by: Ann M. at April 22, 2008 11:07 AM (HFUBt)

5 As usual, the Bible has something to say here: "...for no man ever hated his own flesh." If my wife is doing nothing but chores all day and I don't lift a finger to help even though it's not my responsibility and my work/chores are done, then I know better than to go fondle her breasts and grab her rear and expect her to hop in the sack with me when she's finished (cuz women are so turned on by that, anyways). But if I go out of my way to regularly help, she knows it's not something I have to do but I do it because I value her as a wife and not as a maid. And quite often it means I get fondled while helping out. And being a man that IS a turn on. So I enjoy helping with 'her' chores for intrinsic as well as selfish reasons. And the end result is a happier and cleaner household.

Posted by: Lame-R at April 22, 2008 12:03 PM (nt98J)

6 I'm in agreement that she didn't go about this in the right way. I do, however, sense some exhaustion and frustration in her voice that I've felt myself from time to time. In my lifetime so far, I've been a stay-at-home mom who did 99.8% of everything around the house, even when my husband was home. And, just this week, I finished three years of law school in two years with two kids, a couple of dogs and a household as well. It is not fun to try and pull something like that off for the betterment of your family's bottom line only to realize you still have ALL your household responsibilities whether hubby's on vacation from work or what not. It's even harder after that same husband was deployed for a year and you singlehandedly kept a full-time job, ran the house, etc. and the kids were much younger. I know it isn't a peeing contest or that someone should be keeping score, but there has to be a balance of some kind agreeable to both or that frustration can turn to resentment and rot a marriage from the inside out.

Posted by: Guard Wife at April 23, 2008 05:26 AM (BslEQ)

7 I think the problem is Leslie Bennetts attitude and emasculation of her husband, rather than her irritation that he is not chipping in enough. Every family dynamic is different, and she may be run ragged by her job and kids and housework. She also lives in midtown Manhatten and has more than enough money to hire a maid two or three times a week. So she's also not the best example to set forth of a woman who is oppressed by her husband's lack of cleanliness, she's just the bitchiest example.

Posted by: airforcewife at April 23, 2008 10:02 AM (mIbWn)

8 I suddenly feel the need to give my husband a big hug when he walks through the door at whatever time today. (Rotation began this week) We both work long hours - yet mine are spent at home in front of a computer and his are spent training soldiers and defending our country. Somehow, he still comes home and sweeps, mops or does a load of laundry all without a harsh word, complaint or even a mumble. He doesn't do it because he has to, but because he wants to. We take pride in what we have and since WE earned it WE both take responsibility for keeping IT clean.

Posted by: Vonn at April 24, 2008 07:29 AM (gNLi0)

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I don't understand stuff like this at all.

Officials with Marriott International have agreed to meet with pro-family leaders to discuss the hotel giant's policy of selling in-room pornographic movies to consumers at some of its properties.
...
The letter stressed that pulling the plug on pornography would be in keeping with Marriott's public statement of "promoting the well-being of children and families."

What a bunch of meddling busybodies. If a businessman alone in his hotel room wants to pay outrageous sums of money to watch a dirty movie, why is it anybody else's business?

I mean, don't get me wrong, buying those movies at a hotel is dumb. They're expensive! Shoot, all in-room movies are expensive. Last week the Red Roof Inn wanted to charge us $5.95 to watch an episode of Dexter. Uh, no. But people have the right to spend their money however stupidly they choose. And if they want to spend it on certain types of movies, that's their business.

I just don't get how offering these movies, for a fee, harms children and families who stay in the hotel. This is like the easiest way to prevent your kid from watching dirty movies. If you share a room, there's no way the kid will see it. If the kids have their own room, you'll know about it immediately the next morning when you settle your bill. That's easier control over your kids than you have at home, where any kid at school can hand your precious baby a DVD to take home and hide.

And they're the easiest thing in the world to avoid. Don't want to watch them? Don't buy them! What a novel idea. Just skip that selection on the menu. It's not like the dirty movies are on every channel for free. That will only happen when you take your kids to Europe on vacation.

This kind of stuff drives me nuts. If you don't like sex/violence/nudity/Nip Tuck on TV, don't watch. Change the channel. But seriously, don't try to pressure advertisers and hotel chains to make it so no one can watch. That's manipulative and pathetic.

Incidentally, one time when I was in like high school or something, my family was at a hotel and tried to order an in-room movie. We hit the button, and the movie started, but something wasn't right: it was grainy, and the music was...funny. And then the name of the movie showed up, and gosh I wish I could remember what it was. Something erotic. Obviously the wrong movie had shown up on the screen. So my mom calls the front desk, but she's left the movie playing while she's dialing. My dad was like, "Uh, I think you might want to stop this from playing," while my younger brothers are shushing him and staring intently at the screen. Ha.

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So apparently that miscarriage art, it was a hoax. I don't know what is sicker: really inducing your own miscarriage for art, or just pretending you did to get attention.

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Via Insty, an excellent comment on taxes:

Clearly the government wants us to spend ourselves broke and throw ourselves on welfare. Then they will stop fining us every year. They fine us for speeding, for spitting in the streets, for doing things they don't want us to do: they also fine us for improving our property, investing money to grow the economy, saving money; the implications are pretty clear?

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I knitted two socks last week on vacation.

Yeah, I never said they matched.

The red one has the StL Cardinals logo on the heel. The black one is made with that fun Tofutsies yarn made out of crab shells. I just really wanted socks made from seafood.

And I imagine someday I will make the partner for each of these socks. But right now, there's work to do. I thought my baby knitting was winding down. Both my cousins had their babies last week, so that only left one more preg lady to knit for. And then I got two wedding invitiations in the mail. And found out someone else is pregnant.

It never ends.

Also in knitting news, while on vacation I went to the Toy and Miniature Museum. I knew that some of Althea Merback's work was there, so I dragged my husband's family to see tiny knitted gloves. This was the sweater we got to see, but there was so much more. It was The.Best.Museum.Evah. (My husband laughed when I said that; "You've been to the Louvre," he joked.) But some statue with no arms has nothing on a six-inch-tall working printing press. Or tiny working musical instruments and cameras. My in-laws are lucky we showed up two hours before closing because I could've spent all day there. And the whole time, I kept wishing I had the AirForceKids or Sir Rowland there with me; they would've loved it.

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Any soldier worth his salt doesn't get wrapped up in ribbons and accolades. I learned that long ago, when I saw medals thrown haphazardly in a foot locker. And I took notice when a guy from my husband's armor unit showed up at his new finance unit and tossed my husband's OIF medals on a desk for him. Finance wanted to have a big ceremony for my husband; armor knew the medals were an afterthought. The men who earned the medals, they knew that the pride came in the work they had done, not the bits of ribbons they received for it months later.

Soldiers wear their uniforms with pride, making sure that everything is proper and in its place. But rarely do they care which ribbons they wear. In fact, I was appalled recently to overhear one soldier belittle another for his paltry chest collection, because I had never heard anything so vulgar in my life. I had never before seen anyone point to his hardware as "proof" he was better than someone else. (But this soldier proves himself a douchebag, time and time again.)

Remember when Mr. Miagi said that karate was in your head and your heart, but never in your belt? Real soldiers think the same thing about their ribbons.

And over the past few days, I have read a couple of slams on GEN Petraeus for wearing a chest-load of commendations when he testified before congress. Badger6 is right that the people who write these columns have no idea what they're talking about. It's not like Petraeus can simply decide not to wear parts of his uniform for fear of intimidating the public. Oh gosh, better leave a couple of these stars off my shoulder, lest someone think I'm trying to show off with four of them. I guess two of them will do for today; I'll leave the other two at home.

Badger6 is dismayed that a wine critic somehow got paid to write an opinion column about Petraeus' hardware. Me too. Because it seems obvious that this fella has never even met anyone who has ever been awarded a medal:

In more contemporary times, decorations have suffered a fraught reputation among the rank and file: nice to get but awkward to display if the memories associated with them are of violence, loss and the ineptness of commanders. There have been isolated incidents of Iraq war veterans returning their medals, and, of course, Vietnam War vets were better acquainted with this kind of protest.

Oh yes, the only reason for medals is so you can throw them on the White House lawn. I forgot. Silly me.

Cassandra found another piece griping about Petraeus' uniform. (You really must read her entire post: A Suspension of Contempt.) She says this:

Challenge the good General on his testimony. Challenge him on the facts if you wish. But check the ad hominems at the door. Just because he wears the uniform of the day doesn't give you carte blanche to take cheap potshots at medals that commemorate battles where better men than you will ever be have fought and died for ideals they believed were worth fighting for, even if you do not.

Petraeus doesn't wear those ribbons because he thinks he's better than everyone else. He wears them because they're a part of his uniform. And I bet if you asked him about them, he'd be humble and dismissive.

Go on, critics, ask him which ribbons he got for getting shot in the chest and breaking his pelvis. None.

It took me a couple of years of being in the Army community before I really grokked ribbons. I should've learned the lesson from watching The Karate Kid for the umpteenth time, but it took a while for it to really sink in. It took seeing real heroes brush off praise over the medals they did receive -- heroes like Neil and my husband -- and seeing those precious awards being treated like the hunks of metal that they are for me to truly get it.

I'm not surprised that some wine critic doesn't grok.

Posted by: Sarah at 03:54 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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1 unfortunately, too many Americans don't grok. At all. I thought General Pace's actions after leaving the Joint Chiefs explained it best: http://excaliburrd.com/cs/blogs/excalibur/archive /2007/10/17/general-pace-retires-remember- s-his-troops-killed-in-vietnam.aspx

Posted by: airforcewife at April 19, 2008 05:39 AM (mIbWn)

2 It's so funny that you should write about this today. Just the other day, I was going through some items that C had stuffed into a box in the dresser. Inside, I found everything from loose change to a couple of chains that had gotten tangled up and in the mess were some medals and a couple of coins he had gotten from a couple of generals. I fished the coins and medals out and said something like, "Don't you want to keep these in a safer place?" and his response was, "Yeah, do whatever." And to think that I have every award I've ever gotten (not too many)either framed or carefully packed with that acid free paper....lol.

Posted by: Nicole at April 19, 2008 09:04 AM (sBJ2p)

3 Thanks for another great post. I think there's one other element that you gloss over a bit as to why soldiers brush aside medals, particularly valorous ones. Most of them really look at it as "just doing my job." I think there's a line of thought in that that says, "How could I have done other than what I did in that situation?" And some also brush them aside because they hate what they had to do that led to receiving it, even though they believe they did the right thing. I have a friend who absolutely refuses to tell me why he won a rather impressive medal--says, "I did a job that had to be done, took out a threat. Period. I will not talk about it." And then there are the issues of medals that are the equivalent of "good job pushing that paper," which generals have usually collected in great number on their way up the ladder. That is something these "critics" also don't get at all.

Posted by: FbL at April 19, 2008 11:23 AM (rW1/8)

4 What a great post. I love Mr. Miagi!

Posted by: Tonya at April 22, 2008 07:48 AM (KV0YP)

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Today is our stinker's 3rd birthday.

His birthday kinda snuck up on us this year, so he doesn't get the same treatment he got for his 1st or 2nd. But he is getting steak for dinner. And he loves his birthday present: a stuffed beaver.

Here's to many more, Chuck.

Posted by: Sarah at 11:46 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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1 Happy birthday, Charlie!

Posted by: Green at April 18, 2008 12:12 PM (6Co0L)

2 Happy B-day, Little Man!!!! What a good looking boy!

Posted by: Guard Wife at April 18, 2008 12:49 PM (BslEQ)

3 Enjoy your steak, Charlie!

Posted by: Nicole at April 18, 2008 02:48 PM (sBJ2p)

4 Happy Birthday, Charlie!

Posted by: pam at April 18, 2008 02:57 PM (l6NIn)

5 Any story behind his name?

Posted by: Jed Steven at April 20, 2008 12:33 PM (bT2o/)

6 Happy Birthday Charlie!!!

Posted by: Mare at April 21, 2008 05:57 AM (EI19G)

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This morning we had an appointment with a fertility doctor.

I wanted closure. I wanted reasons. I wanted someone to pore over my charts with me and help me find the definitive a-ha as to why we haven't had a baby yet. And honestly, I wanted a big fat neener-neener "I told you so" that I could say to all the people who told me to just relax and stop stressing. I wanted there to be something wrong with us that we could fix.

But I didn't get that. Instead we got hemming and hawing and maybe you could get pregnant on your own but maybe you couldn't and you got pregnant once before but actually these test results don't look so good, well they're not the worst we've ever seen but they're not great and when are you deploying and for how long and hmmmm and uhhhhh and...OK, fine, you're candidates for fertility treatment.

And I guess the reasons ultimately don't matter so much. After 15 months, the ends justify the means, and whatever means it takes us to get a baby is fine by me. But I really wanted answers. Because as of now, we're still living with the same amount of uncertainty that we've dealt with for the past year. If there's nothing absolutely, definitively wrong with us that can get fixed, just some low numbers here and some less-than-optimal conditions there, then we just blew it. We had an 85% chance of getting pregnant this year and we blew it. That sucks.

And even though we're getting an extra dose of Science to help us on our way, it's just going to be more finger crossing and hoping for the best.

So my husband's leg of the journey ends here, but I must soldier on. Like Frodo with the ring, I will continue to carry the burden while my husband goes off to fight the battles of men (this analogy is totally working for me.)

And I'm ticked because we're right where I absolutely didn't want to be. We did everything we were supposed to do, and raised all sorts of concerns along the way. I took all my charts to the doctor last August and begged someone to listen to me. After the miscarriage, we pleaded with someone to hear our case. And now, now that my husband leaves for Iraq in less than a month, now they decide to help us. Now that the last 15 months have been one big fat waste of time.

And I can't help but be annoyed that if someone had just listened to me last year, our journey could've been more like this:

At any rate, we are where we are now and we have to make the most of it. At first the prospect of multiple babies freaked me out, but now I've gotten really used to the idea and I think I really want twins. Give me all the babies I am ever going to have in one fell swoop so I can be done with this horrible procreation process once and for all. Sorry, Mark Steyn, but I just don't have the stomach for it.

But it's funny; if we do end up having a baby, we will have Mark Steyn to thank for it. America Alone is the only thing that's kept me going. I asked my husband the other day what happens if we go through this entire stupid process and then only end up with one baby, do we go through it again? And he sputtered, "But...but...one child? But...Mark Steyn..." Ha, that book really messed with our heads.

So it's America Alone and now Sarah Alone, headed into Mordor with a burden that grows heavier with every step.

I start treatments the day my husband deploys.

Posted by: Sarah at 09:55 AM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
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What is this, f-ed up art day? First these wacko artists and now another one. Apparently some girl put a bunch of American flags on the floor for people to walk on, as art. Several people are talking about it, but I really like what Kat had to say. Please go read her whole post.

As for the provost who called the flag "just a piece of cloth"...

Typing that hurts my heart.

You know, I've lived in a couple of countries and I've met people from all over the world. And most of the ones I've met, they don't give a flying fig about their flag. Some of them were downright ashamed of their national identity and wanted no part of flags. When a friend and I found a shop in the Netherlands that sold flag patches from all different countries, we bought respective flags for all our exchange student friends. Some took those patches gingerly from our hands, half smiling and half wondering why on earth we would've bought them such a weird gift.

But my flag, it is not just a piece of cloth.

You know what the coolest part of that Aftermath program was? The end, where they said that once all traces of man are wiped from the face of the earth, when nothing is left to show we were here, there will still be an American flag on the moon.

I spent about ten minutes just now trying to find a story I'd heard once. I finally found it: The Mike Christian Story. And as I finished reading the story, I got a jolt when I realized it had been told by John McCain.

And it's times like this when I feel sad that we're relieved that some people didn't walk on a flag on the ground, when other people risked beatings and death in order to salute the flag.

It's not just a piece of cloth.

It's not.

Posted by: Sarah at 12:30 PM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
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Wow. After the Dem debate last night, a bunch of Democrat focus groupers talked about why they'd consider voting for John McCain. Check out the video.

I am putting my fingers together like Monty Burns and saying, "Exxxcellent."

Posted by: Sarah at 05:40 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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My husband is on block leave right now, using his vacation days before he deploys. Three guesses as to where he is right now. Yep, he's at work, just like he was yesterday and just like he will be tomorrow. But in civilian clothes, cuz he's on vacation. Whoopity doo. Then he gets to come home, take an economics final, and work on a group project.

You know your life is particularly stressful when the pep talk you give is, "The next few weeks are going to be insane, but you just have to make it through them. And then you leave." When deployment is the light at the end of the tunnel, you have too much on your plate.

Poor husband.

Posted by: Sarah at 05:26 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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