This, this is exactly how I feel:

I know, this is how politics in America works, it's all Iowa, New Hampshire, South Carolina, all the time. But look at the ideological variety on the GOP side, and tell me that if we listen only to the winners coming out of those three states, how can they POSSIBLY produce a consensus candidate for 2008?
...
Just because bat-crazy Iowa loves its Huck and looney-tunes New Hampshire loves to vote for mavericks, this means I'm going to lose any chance at all to support Fred, Mitt, or Rudy in a mere month's time? And this is accepted as normal and sane why??

I've only been interested in politics for a few years, and I didn't have to do much last time except watch my incumbent and wait for November. But now that this caucus and primary rigamarole affects me too, I feel mighty frustrated.

I'm just ready for it to be November already.

Posted by: Sarah at 03:18 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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I'm sure you've heard the joke that there's no such thing as being "a little bit pregnant," but it's not true. I have been returning weekly to the hospital to get my hormone levels checked, and my body is taking its sweet time. Despite the fact that it's been a month since the D&C, my body still recognizes itself as being "a little bit pregnant." And until it stops, there's nothing we can do to try to get a whole lot pregnant.

I find it a cruel trick of nature that, by the time I went to the health clinic to prove I was pregnant and get an appointment, our baby was already dead. The baby that only lived three weeks has taken an additional 12 weeks to finally let go.

And the sad thing is that we thought my husband was deploying this year; his orders not to go didn't get amended until the day we PCSed. We thought he'd be gone for a year and then come home and we'd start a family. Instead he went into Civil Affairs training and we decided to make good use of his time at home. And now here we are, just shy of one year from the day we decided to start a family, with nothing to show for it. According to the original plan, he'd be returning from deployment right now and we'd be starting the journey towards having a baby...just like we're doing right now anyway. Only if he had just come home, he'd've lined his pockets with deployment money, and we'd just be beginning our safe year, not ending it.

Cruel. It just feels so cruel. And we don't even have real infertility problems. It could be so much worse.

Posted by: Sarah at 09:31 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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Bill Whittle lays a smackdown on a commenter. He then goes on to write:

Many people hear or read something like “american’s” rant and think that because it is structured and literate there must be something to it. How many college students today, when presented with such nonsense, would read it and think that they are approaching the days of a Nazi state?

Lots.

Damn it! Lots of them would. Why? Because, like the 9/11 conspiracy “troofers,” no one bothers to call these people out. Thinking about this response took half again as long as actually typing it did: which is to say a few minutes. That is because I know how far from reality this diatribe is. These are things I think about every day, and likely, so do you. Realizing from scratch that his point was absurd, the specifics were easy.

We can no longer afford to let this anti-American garbage pass unchallenged. As a kind and secure people, we tend to let a lot of this go under the bridge, but this kind of crap gets more and more traction, and those days I think must come to an end for a while.

Now normally I do not employ personal ridicule, but I was writing in the heat of the moment and I thought it was no less than such a puerile attempt deserved. These people need to be challenged, factually defeated, thrashed, and mocked.

There was a time when common sense was prevalent enough that arguments this absurd would be laughed at on the street. I mean to return to those times, one self-righteous idiot at a time.

I have struggled with this dilemma for years, ever since I read Carl Sagan's story of the taxi driver. It's the dilemma from the monorail in Vegas, and my husband's right: as long as we keep giving people permission to promote crap, they will keep doing it. I blogged about it before the 2004 election, and now here we're already in another election cycle, battling the same baloney. And I am still struggling with the same dilemma.

By the way, Whittle is back. Settle in and read Forty Second Boyd and the Big Picture.

Posted by: Sarah at 08:20 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Carren Z wrote that she hit a deer yesterday. Luckily no one was hurt, and she didn't mention massive damage to her car, so that is good news too. I started writing in the comments section about my experience with hitting a deer, but the story is just too much for a comments section.

Last night the husband and I were trying to decide what cheesy little story we'd tell Alex Trebek if we were on Jeopardy. My husband wants to use the time they found the dead insurgent's body they were looking for when his cell phone went off. We laughed that he'd freak the bejesus out of the Canadian ponce. But today, after I read Carren's post, I told my husband that my Jeopardy story would have to involve the deer.

It's Halloween 1997, and I call my boyfriend at his college in Iowa to break up with him. He is stunned that I would break up with him over the phone and insists that I drive up to see him and talk it out in person. Nevermind that it's 11 PM; apparently I feel guilty enough about breaking up to think this is a rational idea. And it's Friday, so I suppose I could go.

I set out for the three-hour drive to his school. I am exhausted already when I start driving in the rain, so I stop and buy a soda and a bag of Sun Chips. There is no one on the road so late at night, so I'm cruising along. And this was before I became a fuddy-duddy who never speeds; I was flying.

All of a sudden out of the corner of my left eye, I see a unicorn. No, for real, that's what it looked like. The lights of my car reflecting off the deer made him look white. And the split second I see him, I crush into him. I didn't even have time to react: all of a sudden the car comes to a nasty halt, and Sun Chips go flying everywhere.

I get out and look around, but it's so dark that I can't even see the deer. I start screaming incoherently at the deer, something about how he better be dead because if I find him, I'll kill him. The car looks like hell, but it still works and I pull in to a gas station at the next exit. I asked some rednecks in the store, with hope in my voice, if I can still drive the car. They look at me like I'm insane and say that it will blow up if I keep going. And then they take off to go find the deer carcass.

I have to call the police, who show up and yell at me for leaving the scene of the accident. I explained to them that the deer was already gone and that -- this being the era before cell phones -- how on earth was I supposed to call in the accident if I was still sitting back at the side of the road?

And then I had to call my parents.
Oh lord.

This was also the era before Mr. T pitied the fool who didn't use 1-800-COLLECT. I just made a regular old collect call to wake my parents up and tell them that I was stuck somewhere in podunk Iowa with the totalled car that they'd paid for. Then I called the ex-boyfriend and told him, through my teeth, that now he had to find a way to come get me.

You know how girls love that Alanis Morissette song, how they get righteously angry over break-ups because of "You Oughta Know"? Yeah, well, that song came on the radio as I was riding in the car in silence, in the middle of the night, through Iowa with the boyfriend I had just dumped over the phone. That's his break up song for me.

And then I spent my weekend imitating Huis Clos: I was stuck in a dorm room with no car with the boyfriend I had just dumped.

It was agony.

I also was a moron and didn't know anyone's phone number from my college. I remembered one person's number who lived down the hall from me, and called him. He wasn't home, and in tears I begged his roommate to go find one of my friends to call me back, someone who would come save me from the weekend from hell.

Incidentally, that is why I immediately bought a Casio Databank Watch, so I would always have people's phone numbers handy the next time I am trapped in a dorm room in Iowa with an angry ex.

There are no buses out of this town in Iowa. There are no trains. There was no way to get home except to bribe someone to drive up and get me.

Meanwhile, I'm still breaking up with the boyfriend, who does not at all want to be broken up with and sees this weekend as his chance to talk me out of it.

Yeah, Huis Clos.

Damage to the car: $4500
That five minute collect call to my parents: $80

And the priceless part about the story is that, a week before the deer incident, I got my fishing license violation. My friends all decided that I was a menace to the environment. I would come home every other day to find cartoon drawings of dead deer and articles about the mating season taped to my dorm door. And of course when a Pennsylvania man made the news a month or two later for beating a deer to death with his bare hands...well, I never lived that down.

Having a story to tell Alex Trebek: priceless

Posted by: Sarah at 09:36 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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1 You win! Your deer story is much better than mine.

Posted by: R1 at January 02, 2008 04:10 PM (y1Xat)

2 Wow, this story is even better than my "spending the night, quite literally, on the streets of London" story! . I especially liked the Mr. T pity the fool reference. I'm still cracking up about that!

Posted by: Kate at January 03, 2008 08:53 AM (FmdP4)

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Knitting woes are universal:

I am convinced that all that jazz about the big Christmas Knitting Deadline and the Will it Fit/Will They Like it Debate fluffs up the project so much in our minds that if, when the recipient finally opens their gift, they have a heart attack and go totally blind from from the joy of it all that our knit-gifting experience will never be exactly what we expect. I mean, really, let's be honest. A heart attack and total blindness--add to that a small amount of some sort of incontinence or maybe a swoon or two would fall just a tiny bit short of what we'd expect, once we add up all those skyscraper dreams, etc. that we graft into all those stitches, bulky or not.

I can so relate. This year the two things I knitted for people in my husband's extended family, they didn't even understand what I had knit them. I had to mail their gifts, and apparently both of them spent a week staring at the items and wondering what they heck they were and why I'd made them.

My husband keeps telling me to stop knitting for non-knitters. But when you're a knitter, you can't go out and buy a pack of onesies for a baby gift; you have to make something for baby. So I have to live up to that expectation while balancing the fact that it takes about 60 straight hours of knitting to make a baby blanket.

So I keep going. I'm 3/5 of the way through little Tucker's gift. And it totally doesn't match the nursery. Sad.

Posted by: Sarah at 07:02 AM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
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1 SARAH! Stop freaking out! If it is anyone that will appreciate a knitted blanket to the point of heart failure or blindness, it is me. Tucker will love it, I will love it, and it doesn't have to match the nursery. I'm not as matchy-matchy as you may think. I look forward to receiving it, and even if it takes you four more months to finish, I would rather you enjoy the process than let it cause YOU heart failure.

Posted by: Erin at January 01, 2008 10:59 AM (XRza7)

2 Just wanted to say hello! I read often but don't post a comment. I am a non-knitter and I have always loved your gifts! The boy loves them too! Some people just don't appreciate a gift that is made . . . aren't those the best!

Posted by: Heidi at January 01, 2008 01:20 PM (GnQGs)

3 Sarah, I have a friend who is a knitter and a rather part time blogger. She just asks people what they want... *grin* That way they're expecting it... of course you could always enclose a card that says... "I hope you like wearing this..." If they see that, it will probably fall into place. In any case, Happy New Year! I hope you have a terrific 2008 to make up for 2007.

Posted by: Teresa at January 01, 2008 01:58 PM (rVIv9)

4 This comment is for Erin since I cannot post a comment on her blog; I messed with it for l0 minutes and then gave up. I love the name, love the colors of the room, and love the creative decorating. Very clever! Tucker _________ sounds like a dreamy movie star's name. I love it! Sarah's Mom Sarah, you're too hard on yourself. I've been bundled up all day long in the cream/sand blanket you knitted for me. I love it and it's so nice and warm and special because you made it for me!

Posted by: Nancy at January 01, 2008 03:27 PM (i47jP)

5 Don't worry! Your gift will be loved. And, trust me, your gift WILL be used & therefore, doesn't need to match the nursery given that the little buggers don't spend much time in there anyhow!

Posted by: Guard Wife at January 01, 2008 05:32 PM (BslEQ)

6 Thank you, Momma Nancy. When are you coming to see Tucker?

Posted by: Erin at January 01, 2008 06:44 PM (XRza7)

7 When someone MAKES something, it is an heirloom. At least, that's how I see it. Every stitch that goes into it was a thought the creator gave the receiver.

Posted by: airforcewife at January 02, 2008 08:44 AM (mIbWn)

8 Oh, get this. The other day I dropped off a hand knit blanket with a note for a pregnant friend I used to work with (she was off the day I brought it in). So I went in today, and she said, "Hi Erin." I waited for more, but it never came. "HI ERIN?!," I thought. The nerve. Scout said, "Well, maybe nobody gave it to her. Maybe someone stole it." Heh. That better be what happened.

Posted by: Erin at January 02, 2008 03:19 PM (XRza7)

9 Erin, remember when I made that hat and scarf for the Christmas gift exchange and the lady who opened it said, "Oh...a hat and scarf" and dropped it on the floor? Sigh.

Posted by: Sarah at January 02, 2008 03:48 PM (TWet1)

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The more I look at that other post, the more whiny it seems.

We have many things to be thankful for this year: the husband being home and with a regular work schedule, lots of fun trips with my blog friends, and, as Butterfly Wife said, a knit octopus...and rhinoceros, lion, and wombat.

Life could be a lot worse.

Here's a good New Year's resolution: a sunnier outlook.

My other resolution is to buy less stationery. I'm not sure which one will be harder for me!

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Well, it's the end of what feels like the most emotionally draining year of my life. Way harder than deployment. Way harder.

And hey, in 2008 we have both conception and deployment to look forward to. Whoopity doo. Should be an especially fun year.

Who me, grumpy?

Posted by: Sarah at 09:46 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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My husband told me this morning about the speech Fred Thompson gave on why he wants to be president. I am trying really hard not to get too emotionally invested in this man, because I'm not sure the rest of the country wants the same type of president that I do. And if I want it too badly, I will be too disappointed if it doesn't work out. But I want a president who says things like this:

I approached it from the standpoint of a deal. A kind of a marriage. If one side of a marriage really has to be talked into the marriage, it probably ainÂ’t going to be a good deal. But if you mutually decide itÂ’s going to be a good thing. In this case, if you think this is a good thing for the country, then we have an opportunity to do some wonderful things together.

IÂ’m offering myself up. IÂ’m saying that I have the background, the capability and concern to do this and do it for the right reasons. IÂ’m not particularly interested in running for president, but I think IÂ’d make a good president.

Nowadays, the process has become much more important than it used to be.

I donÂ’t know that they ever asked George Washington a question like this. I donÂ’t know that they ever asked Dwight D. Eisenhower a question like this. But nowadays, itÂ’s all about fire in the belly. IÂ’m not sure in the world we live in today itÂ’s a good thing if a president has too much fire in the belly.

I mean, I just want to quote the whole danged thing, it's that good. He goes on later to say:

If what people really want in their president is a super type A personality, someone who has gotten up every morning and gone to bed every night and been thinking about, for years how they can be president of the United StatesÂ… someone who can look you straight in the eye and say theyÂ’ve enjoyed every minute of campaigningÂ… (laughter) I ainÂ’t that guy. (more laughter) [To questioner] So I hope IÂ’ve discussed that, or I havenÂ’t talked you out of anything. I honestly wantÂ… I canÂ’t imagine a worse set of circumstances than achieving the presidency under a false pretenses, especially if you feel the way I do. IÂ’ve gone out of my way to be myself, because I donÂ’t want anybody to think theyÂ’re getting something theyÂ’re not getting. IÂ’m not consumed by this process, IÂ’m not consumed with the notion of being president. IÂ’m simply saying IÂ’m willing to do whatÂ’s necessary to achieve it if IÂ’m in sync with the people. And if the people want me, or somebody like me, I will do what IÂ’ve always done with everything else in my life. I will take it on and do a good job. YouÂ’ll have the disadvantage of having someone who probably canÂ’t jump up and click their heels three times, but will tell you the truth. And youÂ’ll know where the president stands at all times.

(Hat tip to my husband and Instapundit.)

Posted by: Sarah at 10:09 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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The other day, AWTM and I did indeed start talking about Jim Gaffigan. It was a good way to break the mood when we both got riled up talking about anti-Mormon bias. I made an offhanded comment about people not voting for Romney because of his underpants, which brought us to a serious discussion of temple garments and how offensive it is that people make a mockery of this religious tradition. Is it OK to mock someone for wearing a yamulke? Our Hindu friend from college wears the sacred thread; is that fair game? Or are we really so immature as a society that we have to snicker because we're talking about underwear? I don't get it. My husband insists that people get away with anti-Mormon bigotry because Mormons are "white." He's probably right: Sikhs have special underwear too, but you never hear anyone mocking Sikhs as being religious weirdos.

Sigh. Off the soapbox again...

Posted by: Sarah at 06:08 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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My husband's miserly ways are notorious. AirForceWife even bought us a baby bib that says IRS Deduction. It's so true. When I asked him what he wanted for Christmas this year, he suggested I find some things around the house to sell for cash. He wants less stuff, not more; I can't remember the last time my husband has wanted to buy something for himself.

We came across these conversation cards this morning, little cards with questions to get conversations started. I flipped through them and realized I know my husband well enough to answer most of the questions for him. But I came to one that I wasn't sure of, so I asked him, "Given a choice, would you choose a mountain view, lake view, or ocean view?" He promptly answered, "Ocean view. Higher property values, I could sell it for more." My husband doesn't have a dream house, only a house he can sell.

That man cracks me up.

Posted by: Sarah at 05:01 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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The other night, I couldn't fall asleep because I have too much knitting stress. For pete's sake, Erin's baby gets here in a month and I haven't even started! Not to mention the other babies popping on the scene in early 2008. I have knit myself into a corner and need to get out fast.

So I got out of bed and worked from midnight to 0200 to finish the project I had so selfishly started for myself.

(It's Nakiska from Knitty, unblocked of course because blocking takes time.)

Now that that's out of the way, I'm on a strict baby knitting schedule, five or six hours a day. My husband looked at me today and said, "I think maybe you shouldn't knit so much." He means well, really he does, but I don't know what he was thinking when he said that. He says he only meant that it's a hobby and I shouldn't get so stressed out about an activity that's supposed to be fun and doesn't even bring us any income.

But Erin's baby can't knit for himself.

Back to work.

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232 years ago this morning, George Washington and his Continental army won the Battle of Trenton, effectively turning the tide of the American Revolution and putting us on the road to independence.

From the last week of August to the last week of December, the year 1776 had been as dark a time as those devoted to the American cause had ever known -- indeed, as dark a time as any in the history of the country. And suddenly, miraculously it seemed, that had changed because of a small band of determined men and their leader.

A century later, Sir George Otto Trevelyan would write in a classic study of the American Revolution, "It may be doubted whether so small a number of men ever employed so short a space of time with greater and more lasting effects upon the history of the world."

(from pg 291 in 1776)

I couldn't be prouder to think that 232 years ago, bedraggled and freezing men were fighting to establish the wonderful country I now live in. And were paid $6 per month for the pleasure.

We owe them so much.

Posted by: Sarah at 05:38 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Erin was the first person to call me this Christmas morning.
She is still making my Christmases special.

Posted by: Sarah at 05:58 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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1 That story should come with a tissue warning!!! But it is indicative of the fabric of what makes our country so special. Merry Christmas to you and your family. May all your wishes and dreams for the New Year come true.

Posted by: Mare at December 25, 2007 08:17 AM (bLO1M)

2 Dang. You make us sound so much cooler than we are. I miss you, girl. Merry Christmas.

Posted by: Erin at December 25, 2007 02:45 PM (XRza7)

3 Merry Christmas to you and yours Sarah. Many blessings to you that you get all your hopes and dreams in the new year.

Posted by: Household6 at December 25, 2007 03:51 PM (xzYY+)

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I was able to find joy in the smallest things on Christmases past, be it not having a tree (2006), having a husband in the same room (2005), hitting a milestone during the deployment (2004), or not being able to even write because we had no computer access (2003). So let's see if I can muster that joy this year.

Admittedly, it's been a pretty crappy month in our household. On the day I planned to put up the tree, we instead went to the emergency room and had our hopes and dreams crash down on our heads. Not a great way to start the season.

But we have hope.

Shoot, we don't have anything else to show for the past year. Except a sliver of hope that by next Christmas we will have the prospect of spending future Christmases surrounded by children and grandchildren.

But we have that hope to hang on to, and that's what keeps us smiling through the Christmas season this year.

Maybe we just need to move to Utah.

Posted by: Sarah at 05:39 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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1 Let me wish you a Hopeful Christmas and a happy one too.

Posted by: Teresa at December 25, 2007 09:14 AM (rVIv9)

2 As the card said, memories of Christmases past, and the Christmases to come...

Posted by: FbL at December 26, 2007 08:23 AM (rW1/8)

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Last night we watched Easy Rider. I sat there with a confused look on my face the whole time. Spoiler alert, but what in the holy heck was that? Someone's head gets chopped up with a machete and the hippies are like, "Man, whatever, let's go get some whores and drop acid in a cemetery"? And then get killed by rednecks for no reason whatsoever.

I do not grok that movie at all.

Posted by: Sarah at 05:20 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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A neat blog post. Teaser quote: "I love It's a Wonderful Life because it's the greatest financial services movie ever made."

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I'm a mere 13 rows away from finishing my huge knitting project so I can gift it. Thank heavens. It was meant to be 30,100 stitches made with love and appreciation, but at this point I just can't wait to put it in the mail.

And then I have to make this spider monkey, which someone is paying me to make.

And then I can concentrate on the other five projects I have sitting on my sofa...

The other day I got this ridiculous idea that I still had time before Christmas to make everyone I know a pair of these little mitten ornaments. Thank heavens I talked myself out of that before I even got started. I still want to make them, but everyone can get them next year.

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I'm a few days late in noticing this very touching post, ironically entitled Why I Hate Christmas.
Stupid pregnancy hormones, good for nothing anymore except making me weepy.

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OK, someone needs to submit me for that show Intervention. I couldn't go 24 hours without knitting. I was sitting there in the recliner all jittery and fidgety, like a crackhead in withdrawal. And I finally lost it and made my husband pass me the dpn's. Ahhh, endorphins.

Thank heavens I never channeled this compulsive behavior into cigarettes or slot machines.

Posted by: Sarah at 04:47 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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I think the secret to a good marriage is meta-knowledge.

During a class on cross-cultural communication, we read the book That's Not What I Meant! How Conversational Style Makes or Breaks Relationships. That book was probably the most useful thing I ever read in college; it changed my life. (And people say that all the time, that books changed their life, but usually they're being hyperbolic. I am super serial here.) What this book teaches you is how your metamessage -- the tone of your voice, the way you're standing -- conveys a stronger message than your words, and how men and women typically employ different metamessage strategies. Once you're able as a couple to talk about your metamessages and not just the words you've said, it opens up a whole different level of communication.

This meta-knowledge -- for example, that men listen to complaining to find solutions, while women complain to create a social bond -- is a crucial part of getting along. My husband and I hardly ever argue anymore after reading this book because we are able to step back and actually say nerdy things like, "Right now I am acting like a stupid woman. I know what I am saying is unreasonable, and that you want to try to fix the problem for me, but I don't need you to fix it, I just need you to listen and nod along with me as if you understand what in the hell I'm upset about. It's OK if you just pretend you understand, that works too." Understanding that your emotional systems work differently is a blessing for a relationship.

I am so glad I had to read this book.

Anyway, I thought about this today when I read SarahJ's description of dropping the bookcase on her foot. Now there's a couple with meta-knowledge! If you can fight with this sort of self-awareness, you have a great relationship, in my opinion. You still have a busted toe because you were being a damned woman, but at least you don't have a busted toe and a divorce, right?

Heh.

(Todays links, as usual, found via Conservative Grapevine, the coolest round-up on the internet.)

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