July 20, 2008


There's just too much to say about this article, and most of what I want to say will make me sound mean. I'll limit myself to a few points: As wars lengthen, toll on military families mounts

If the burden sounds heavier than what families bore in the longest wars of the 20th century — World War II and Vietnam — that's because it is, at least in some ways. What makes today's wars distinctive is the deployment pattern — two, three, sometimes four overseas stints of 12 or 15 months. In the past, that kind of schedule was virtually unheard of.

Honestly, I'd rather my husband do all the time he's done in Iraq than do one tour in either WWII or Vietnam. I can't help but think of Easy Company from Band of Brothers. They were only deployed for a year, but that year included D-Day, Market Garden, and Bastogne. No way. I'll take two years in Iraq over that one year in Europe anyday.

"Infidelity is huge on both sides — a wife is lonely, she looks for attention and finds it easier to cheat," she said. "It does make even the most sound marriages second-guess."

Um, no it doesn't. Speak for yourself, honey.

"Deployments don't help in strengthening a marriage, but they do not have to kill marriages," [Col. Ronald Crews, one of several chaplains called from the reserves to help with family counseling] said. "That's a choice a couple has to make."

Again, speak for yourself, Chaplain. I know a few wives who've said that deployment strengthened their relationship; CVG even called deployment "couples therapy." I really disagree that separation can't strengthen you.

When my husband left, I posted "A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning" on my site. To me, that is the perfect deployment poem. My husband is the roaming foot of the compass, and I the fixed foot that hearkens after him. Our love is the "gold to aery thinness beat" and we don't need "eyes, lips, and hands" to remind us that we're still in love. And our relationship is just as strong, even though deployment "doth remove those things which elemented it."

I don't need my husband in my house to know that I love him. I also don't need him here to know that I oughtn't cheat on him, or to strengthen the bond that exists between us.

But then again, we don't have "dull sublunary lovers' love."

[article via LMT]

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I've never grown anything edible before, so I am fascinated by my new little garden. I go out and look at it constantly, mostly to marvel but also to be on the lookout for hornworms!

So I was tickled pink to come home from DC and find that my little buds and marble-sized peppers had turned into this:


Four on one little plant! How is it standing under all that weight? And the little pepper that I took a photo of a month ago?


He's red! He's still only the size of a golfball though. But this farmer thing is addictive.

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July 19, 2008


The Girl and I have a running motivational speech, wherein we admonish each other not to live in an alternate reality. Hers is that if her husband hadn't deployed and gotten stop-moved, she would be back in the US now instead of still languishing in Germany. Mine is that I would already have a baby instead of still being in not-able-to-be-pregnant hell. We have to constantly remind each other that, even though we don't like it, we have to live in the reality that is.

But this is hard for me today, because my husband just found out his next deployment schedule. He still has six months left on this one, and he already knows tentative dates for the next one. And I can't help but be overwhelmingly disappointed that this baby we were pregnant with a month ago would've worked out so perfectly. Baby would've been born right after the husband got back, and he would've been here for the birth and then maximized his time at home before he left again. Now that we already know when he's leaving again, it's like another sock in the gut that I wish this baby had worked out.

I am still planning on getting fertility testing done, and perhaps heading into Mordor this fall. But if things go perfectly well, and I get pregnant on my own in a doctor's office right away, the baby will be born right as my husband is deploying again. That is not a reality I care to live in. In fact, that was the exact reason that we started trying to have a baby when we did, so we could avoid such a crappy situation. But there it is. Perfect Baby is no longer with us, and now we get Undesirably Timed Baby. That is, if Baby even works out for us at all.

I promise you, The Girl, that I am trying really hard not to dwell on that alternate reality, where my husband actually gets to enjoy the birth and early life of his child. And I swear, I was doing really well and was practically over the fact that I am not pregnant anymore. I was moving on, but this is something that makes me wistful for the alternate reality I almost had.

However, I take some vicarious comfort in this: no matter how we slice it, you will be back living in the US before any sort of baby enters our home! And that is something to definitely look forward to.

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Yay, CaliValleyGirl finally graced us with her presence, and she even included a picture of her baby wearing the sweater I made for him. Um, the sweater that was supposed to fit him this coming winter, at six months, not six weeks. He's a big'un.

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Via Beth, a must read: Patton Oswalt's graduation speech

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Dear AirForceGuy,

You know how you were ashamed that my Tibetan terrier kicked your pit bull's butt? I have a piece of news you'll be interested in. Remember how Charlie kept scratching his ears the whole week? We went to the vet yesterday: he has a yeast infection in his ears.

Trust me, our dogs are equally emasculated.


Poor Charlie, that's just not cool at all.

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One of the bad things about having a deployed husband and no job is that I don't have to do anything. Time is just one big fluid thing, and the distinction between separate days becomes arbitrary.

I have always been an insomniac, but having a husband with a set schedule helps keep me on a system. Now that he's gone, there's no reason to go get in bed. I end up promising myself 'just one more episode' or 'just one more chapter.' My bedtime creeps ever so later: 1AM, 2AM. Same with when I get out of bed; if there's no job to go to, and I stayed up until 2AM, why not sleep until 9:00? It's a bad cycle.

But last night, I found myself exhausted. I felt like I was drugged, I was so tired. Maybe it was the midnight drive home from DC catching up to me, I don't know. But I shut the lights out last night at 8:45, before it was even dark outside. And I woke up this morning at 7:45. That's a heck of a slumber.

Oh, and trust me, I am enjoying it while it lasts. There's my silver lining to not having kids yet; I can sleep for 11 hours if I need to.

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July 18, 2008


The husband sent me a good link today, under the simple email subject line of "Krauthammer rules": Who Does Obama Think He Is?

Incidentally, I watched North By Northwest last night -- such a good movie and can I point out how Cary Grant makes me melt? -- and I had a good chuckle when I remembered Obama's bonehead question of how they had filmed the movie on top of Mount Rushmore. I hope he hadn't seen that movie in a long time, because the Rushmore they used was comically fake-looking. It is entirely obvious it wasn't the real deal.

But hey, at least Obama didn't ask to see the entrance where Nicolas Cage found the city of gold.

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July 17, 2008


Thomas Sowell is so smart.

One of the most naive notions is that politicians are trying to solve the country's problems, just because they say so-- or say so loudly or inspiringly.

Politicians' top priority is to solve their own problem, which is how to get elected and then re-elected. Barack Obama is a politician through and through, even though pretending that he is not is his special strategy to get elected.
Perhaps a defining moment in showing Senator Obama's priorities was his declaring, in answer to a question from Charles Gibson, that he was for raising the capital gains tax rate. When Gibson reminded him of the well-documented fact that lower tax rates on capital gains had produced more actual revenue collected from that tax than the higher tax rates had, Obama was unmoved.

The question of how to raise more revenue may be the economic issue but the political issue is whether socking it to "the rich" in the name of "fairness" gains more votes.

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July 15, 2008


Ralph Peters on "the audacity of hope":

Audacity is for innovators, risk-takers and crusaders - for those willing to stand in the fire of public opinion and tell a million people they're wrong and here's why. Audacity's not for the passive mob hoping government will fix everything (while blaming government for everything).

Hope is the opposite of audacity. It's passive, an excuse for inaction.

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July 14, 2008


My time at Heather's house was so nice; we just sat and crocheted together for three days. I joked to her husband that we were going to get bedsores! It was so relaxing and nice to just talk. And her husband used to be Civil Affairs, so we compared notes.

I'm here at AirForceHouse now. There was an "incident" tonight: Charlie was wrestling with their dog and their dog's foot got caught and it ripped his toenail completely out by the root. Ouch! AirForceGuy is mortified that our Tibetan terrier managed to take down his pit bull. Heh.

More later.

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July 11, 2008


I don't feel so great today. Unsettled, disappointed, depressed. Getting lasik surgery was supposed to be my consolation prize for losing the baby; now it looks like I don't get First Place or the consolation prize. No prizes for me. No silver lining, no green grass, no happy ending. They told me to come back in a week and they'll re-run the eye tests to be certain.

Thank goodness I already had something good planned for this week.

I leave tomorrow to go visit friends. My first stop is Heather, the recipient of all those squares I've been crocheting. We will have a nice couple of days of pure crafting, and I can have some precious company while I get some more work done on my afghans. My next stop is AirForceFamily. AirForceGuy has even arranged a Top Secret excursion, something that even required some sort of security clearance. I am so curious to see what it is. (And so is my husband, apparently!)

You know, I was supposed to take this trip in May, but a dead baby threw a monkey wrench in it. I am really glad that I happened to reschedule for right now, because I could use the distraction and the joy in my life.

Today will go down as a really bad day in my life: the day I felt extra salt in my wounds. But if this is the worst day I ever have to face, then I will have lived a very good life.

It just sucks today.
But my vacation will help boost my spirits.

And I'm taking the laptop, so I hope to stick around the 'sphere...

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Well, this cheers me up today. I clicked on Instapundit and my heart literally skipped a beat when I saw that Mark Steyn was hosting the Rush Limbaugh show today. I ran to the radio.

Also, this sent me into fits too.

I am not what you would call outdoorsy. If I wanted anything that was outdoors, I'd hire someone to bring it inside where civilization lives. [...]

Anyway, on my recent trip to Branson, we were staying at a hotel with both an indoor and an outdoor pool and spa. You already know which one I used. As I sat in the hot tub, inside the air conditioned building, I realized I was a full two layers away from nature, and I liked it. The air conditioning protected me from the heat outside, and the warm water of the hot tub protected me from the air conditioning. In time, the hot tub became too hot, and I wished I had some sort of thermos suit I could wear to take the edge off.


I guess I ought to specify: they were fits of laughter. Maybe I have a weird sense of humor, but I thought that was darned funny. Take that, Al Gore.

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I can't carry a baby.
And my corneas are too thin for lasik.
I hate my body.

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July 10, 2008


When I first started blogging, I read every single blog on my blogroll every single day. I was fastidious. Nowadays, I am so blog-scatterbrained; I don't think there's one blog I read every day. Thus I haven't read Varifrank in a while, so forgive me that these links are old.

I wasn't the biggest fan in the world of There Will Be Blood, but God how I love that "I drink your milkshake" line. I love how you can use it now and it sums up a whole concept in one little silly line. I just get tickled pink every time I see it. (Not to mention that you can also explain the concept using the names J.R. Ewing and Monty Burns.)

Varifrank, from a month ago: Canada to US: I Drink Your Milkshake! And you know exactly what the post will be about. I just love that line.

(Of course, my very favorite use of There Will Be Blood is this blog post from iSteve. Oh my, that was clever. I mean, that deserves an award or something.)

Oh, and Varifrank wrote a doozie two weeks ago when Wesley Clark opened his yapper. Priceless.

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I thought this was an interesting article: When The Man is One of Us

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File under "I wish I had thought to say that." Lileks on Obama's "merci beaucoup" inanity yesterday:

In the context of English-as-a-national-tongue laws, itÂ’s an interesting assertion: Apparently it is right to expect people who visit Paris to speak French the day they get there, but it is cultural chauvinism to expect people who want to live and work in America to understand English well enough to navigate a ballot.

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July 09, 2008


My mother and I planted a vegetable garden while she was here, and I had four thriving, big tomato plants on the back fence. I go out there tonight and find this.


Every second plant was stripped completely bare. No leaves. Huh? I move in for a closer look.


Two of the fattest, grossest caterpillars took up residence in my garden. Both totally engorged with an entire tomato plant. They were about four inches long and as thick around as a Tootsie Roll.


Naturally, I pried them off with a spatula and dumped them over the fence into the neighbor's yard. They don't have anything planted in their yard anyway.

I'm bad.

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I talked to ArmyWifeToddlerMom this evening. She is unable to get online at her father's house, so she has been in non-internet limbo for a long time now. She's itching to get back. And I'm itching to hear from her again, because she always kills me.

One of AWTM's charms is her filthy mouth. Sadly, she's now going to have to curb her enthusiasm, especially for her favorite insult. Her son, Sir Rowland, is apparently cut from the same cloth as she is, and his inner-AWTM is starting to shine through. They were eating in a restaurant the other day and the waiter took a really long time to bring the kids their plates. As the waiter handed her son his dish and turned to go, Sir Rowland muttered under his breath, "Thanks, douchebag."

Ha. He's exactly like his mama.

We miss you, AWTM.

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Oh yeah, I forgot how this works.
First time at the gym after a hiatus = fun
Second time at the gym = ouch

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