August 31, 2008


A great point from Morgan Freeberg:

I do NOT see any conservatives expressing newfound reluctance now that they have to have to vote for a girl. I have not seen so much of a speck of evidence for that. C'mon guys, we're supposed to be a bunch of d*mned sexists here. Doesn't living up to a reputation mean anything to anyone anymore?? Well, I'll live up to mine -- I'm an equal-opportunity sexist. Palin's a good running mate for McCain, but if somewhere there was a man who would make a better one, I'd say he made the wrong choice. There isn't. She was, as I said before, the best choice he could've made, and being a woman has nothing to do with being a good Vice President. I hope, while the Republicans gulp this intoxicating elixir of identity politics by the gallon, they don't get punch-drunk on it like the democrat party has been since the 1950's. But...they probably will. That's bad for the G.O.P., over the long term, because it diminishes what distinguishes them from the democrats. But good for the country if Palin shows the kind of leadership she's been showing in Alaska. That's a trade I'll take.

I have a dream, that one day our children and our children's children, will judge each other by the content of their character...and not by the configuration of their genitals.

He makes 11 other points in the post worth reading too.

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I haven't been blogging because I have a friend in town this weekend. I also am unrelatedly kitten-sitting, which has been an interesting experience. Charlie desperately wants to wrestle this 4 lb kitten. And he even more desperately wants to eat her wet food.

For a laugh, read Palin Facts. My favorite was the Tom Brady one; my husband's was the Terminator one.

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August 29, 2008


The husband logged in to chat to talk about Palin! So exciting to get to share that with him. He kept inserting Jonah Goldberg quotes into the chat. It was fun. And here's how we ended:

Sarah says:
  I love you and I am so excited about Palin and I'm glad you got to see me with brushed hair
Husband says:
  me too
Husband says:
  for both things
Husband says:
  mostly Palin though
Sarah says:
Husband says:
  I don't care what your hair looks like

He's the greatest and I miss him terribly.

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Sarah Palin?

I'm kinda doing that thing Cartman does where he runs in a circle and says "you guys, you guys, seriously."


Man, I wish I could call my husband.

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Watched Obama last night. The various authors at The Corner summed up everything I thought during the speech. VDH even said "Hope and Change Become Gloom and Doom" like I said yesterday. And overall, I thought that the speech was great, as long as you don't know anything else about Obama. But my laugh-out-loud moment came from this Jonah Goldberg gem:

And My Fellow Americans...
If we all work our hardest, we can make this the best yearbook ever!



Another good line from Five Feet of Fury:

I can't be the only one sick of hearing speech after speech out of the DNC, regaling America with cringe-inducing anecdotes about one-armed, one-legged, dying, dirt poor pathetic losers.
I'm getting sarcastic emails (and hearing similar comments on radio and around the web) saying: "Gee, here I thought I was living in America. After listening to the speeches this week, I realized I'm living in Rwanda and didn't even know it! Thank you, Democrats, for telling me what a pathetic failure of a nation I call home!"

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August 28, 2008


I got to see my favorite mug in the whole wide world last night, for the first time in 3 1/2 months.


My man can dimple.
And he thinks he's Rick James, which cracks me up.

I told him that, up against that white wall, he looked like he was making a martyrdom video. Which prompted him to tie a sock around his head and start waving a book in the air. The man is hilarious.

Oh, and "show me your dimples" was followed by "show me your boobies." Snort.

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August 27, 2008


I waited all afternoon to watch the DNC tonight. Once it started, I lasted ten minutes before I wondered why I was giving myself an ulcer sitting through this gloom and doom stuff. Hope is out the window; tonight all we've got is change. Tonight it's all about The End of the American Dream.

Bill Clinton said we need to "rebuild the American dream." Joe Biden said "the American dream is slipping away."

Biden talked about people who can't pay their bills and said, "These are common stories among middle-class people who've worked hard their whole life and played by the rules, on the promise that their tomorrows would be better than their yesterdays. That promise is the promise of America."

And I suppose Joe Biden just summed up why I will never be a Democrat.

The greatness of America is not that everyone's tomorrows will be better than their yesterdays. It's simply not; that's not something you can promise. The greatness of America is that everyone has the opportunity for better tomorrows. The chances are there for the taking, but it's not a promise.

The Democrats want to promise you that they will make all 300 million of our lives better. That's absurd. But Barack Obama is all about "the world as it should be." He'll promise you some ideal that can never be lived up to, something that doesn't exist. Some America where no one makes less than twenty bucks an hour and everyone is guaranteed a low interest rate on a McMansion. Where everyone's health care is free but no one's taxes go up except for Exxon executives'. An America of no trade offs, no opportunity costs at all. Flowers and sausages for everyone, once Obama's in power. A full 180 from the gloom and doom we live in now. Come January, life will be perfect.

Audacity, indeed.

Frankly, I'm disappointed that all the Democrats can talk about is changing America. If there's even a whiff of that at the Republican convention next week, I'm afraid I'll cry. The United States of America is already the greatest country on the planet. I'm weary of hearing speech after speech about how we need to change it. How it's "downright mean." How we need to set a better example for the world.

How the American dream is dead.

I don't want to change anything about our country. I don't want the government (spit) to promise me my American dream, to promise me the picket fence and microwave oven. I only want my government to assure me that all the dreams I could ever want are at my fingertips if I work hard enough and make good decisions. And then get the hell out of the way and let me work towards them.

That is the promise of America.

And that is why I'm not a Democrat.

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We're home, and we're tired.


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August 25, 2008


The time has come to head back home. Let's hope my windshield survives.
I can't believe I scheduled my three-day drive home for the nights of the DNC. Dumb.

Oh, but there's something fun to look forward to when I get back: my husband just got his new laptop in the mail, which has a *webcam*! I get to see his dimpled face for the first time in three months.

And then it's almost time for SpouseBUZZ Live: Hampton Roads!

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August 24, 2008


Obama vs. Baldilocks: "A blogger's African dad came here on the same airlift as Obama's dad. All similarities end there."

I've read Baldilocks since the beginning, which I guess means I've "known" her for about five years. I'm glad she got the publicity for her project, and I will be making a donation.

She's a cool blogger, and seeing this article just makes me feel bummed that I don't read her more often. There are so many good blogs out there that I simply don't find time for.

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August 23, 2008


I hate meeting new people or catching up with old acquaintances. It's the worst aspect of coming home for a visit.

I, she states emphatically, am not enterprising. My shame is that I would've made a terrible pioneer and probably would've never crossed the Atlantic for the New World. I don't like adventure, and I'm not the least bit entrepreneurial.

I am a born follower.

When our future children start school, I will get a job. Not a career, a job. I have no interest in a career whatsoever. I fancy myself a sort of Renaissance Lady who likes learning new things for the sake of learning, but I am not ambitious. I went to grad school merely to kill time while my husband finished school. I liked school and was good at it, but I can't imagine myself in any sort of career.

I say all of this to set the stage for the question I hate most: "So, what do you do?"

I don't do anything. I don't know how to answer that. I do a monkey's job two weekends a month. I don't make money. I have no job to speak of.

I was voted Most Likely To Be President by my graduating class. I have no idea why. I am certain I am a disappointment to them.

But I am fine with my life. My husband likes me the way I am, though I am sure he will enjoy the extra money once I get a job. I have no regrets at all about where I am in life. (Except if I'd known it would take more than two years to have a baby, I would've gotten some sort of job at this duty station.)

But any time I get the "What do you do?" question, I feel like I need to explain all of this. I feel like I need to prove I'm not a bum. Or I have to explain the two dead babies, so at least I have an excuse for not working.

Yesterday we ran into the mom of a kid I went to school with. "So, what do you do?" I fake laughed and said, "My husband is in the Army, so I follow him around for a living." She looked disappointed. "I just remember you were so successful in school."


I'm just typing this to get it off my chest. I hate that question. I hate not having an answer to it. I hate the look people give me when I don't have an answer for them.

Sometimes I answer "I'm a trophy wife" if I think I can get away with it.

I hate how the question makes me feel inadequate when really I am happy with my life. I shouldn't let it bother me, but it does.

I just need to hurry up and have a kid so I have an excuse for staying at home.

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I always seem to be on the road when big things happen. A few weeks ago, I got to my destination to find out that Russia had invaded Georgia and John Edwards was in hot water. I was also gone yesterday and came home to find out Obama has a VP.

A comment from Scrapiron over at Flopping Aces:

There goes the ‘D.C.’ insider rants.
There goes the he’s too ‘old’ rants.
There goes the ‘Bush’s’ war rants.

Hooray. I also saw at RWN via Gina Cobb that Biden got an F in ROTC class, so there's no chance for all the John Kerry Reporting For Duty, importance of military service stuff that the Dems trumpeted last time. Hard to out-awesome McCain in that category, even with an A in ROTC (which I got...heh.)

I've been reading everyone's refresher posts on all the dumb stuff Biden's said in the past few years, and I'm feeling pretty good here. Not cocky, but good. Better than I felt in '04, actually. And great once I read this gem:

Crowley's TNR profile concludes with a striking example of Biden's foreign policy sophistication. In the wake of 9/11, in a meeting with his staff, Biden experienced an epiphany:

Biden launches into a stream-of-consciousness monologue about what his [Senate Foreign Relations] committee should be doing, before he finally admits the obvious: "I'm groping here." Then he hits on an idea: America needs to show the Arab world that we're not bent on its destruction. "Seems to me this would be a good time to send, no strings attached, a check for $200 million to Iran," Biden declares. He surveys the table with raised eyebrows, a How do ya like that? look on his face.

Now if McCain can keep himself from doing something asinine like picking Lieberman, we might be good to go.

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August 22, 2008


Yesterday I had lunch with my best friend from high school. I hadn't seen her in almost nine years; the last time I saw her I wasn't even dating my husband yet. We reconnected via email around the time I started trying to have a baby. She has been a good friend to have in my life over the past two years; she had to undergo monstrous amounts of testing and IVF to have her two children, but the sting of infertility is still fresh with her. She didn't dust her hands off and get over it after her children came along, and she keenly understands my gripes and frustrations. And she lost her first baby, so there's that angle we share too.

In short, she makes me feel normal.

With my husband gone and babymaking out of the question, I haven't given much thought to the babies we lost or the one we'd like to have soon. It's been a non-issue for me as my HCG level steadily declined and there was no chance of getting pregnant again in the meantime. I haven't talked about the issue with anyone in a long time, but my visits with Guard Wife and my friend from high school, two women who've been in my shoes, brought the issue to the forefront for me again.

And this morning, the fertility clinic called me and said they have an opening when I get back, so I scheduled an appointment to see if we can figure out this crazy puzzle.

Time to get back on the horse.

Oh, and Darla and I are totally going to have triplets at the same time and move in together while our husbands are deployed. Take that, Jon and Kate.

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August 21, 2008


So I made some calls re: the windshield. Naturally there are two hitches: both my sticker to get on post and my state inspection sticker are on the broken windshield. I can only get a new inspection sticker if I get the windshield replaced in my state, and since our vehicle was registered at our old post, I have to go in with umpteen documents to get a new sticker at our current post. Pain in the neck. So I decided to just wait until I get home to get the windshield replaced.

But would you even believe that, while driving today, another rock hit me and made another chip in the glass in a different spot? Thank heavens I hadn't already fixed it; I would've gone through the roof.

Don't ride with me, I'm a rock magnet.

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A good 2nd Amendment story via CG: Guns in the hands of good people:

I believe that those of us who grew up in the'60s and'70s have been lax in protecting each other and have passed this attitude on to our children. Some of us developed this complacent attitude that someone else, especially the government, is responsible for supporting us or solving our problems. But they are not.

Read the whole article about how the author had to take a life and the responses he's received after his story came out.

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August 20, 2008


We were teasing my mother the other day that her eulogy is going to be a laugh riot. We have so much hilarious material on her, including the fact that this week I threw out some canned goods in her pantry that expired in 2001. And how she argues with her GPS: "No I should NOT turn left here!" And how she whistles under her breath all the time. Oh, the whistling, it drives me nuts.

She pouted and said that we can't wait for her to die so we can make fun of her.

But yesterday, I saw a side of my mother that I love. Through her work, she's befriended a family from Tanzania. We stopped by their house because my mother had done some school clothes shopping for their daughters. My mother is so entirely generous that way: she invites this family to Thanksgiving, she bought them a Christmas tree, and she's always popping in on them with new clothes and toys for their kids.

And I just love how these two little African girls climb all over my mother and call her Grandma. And my mom kisses them and reads books to them and loves on them to death. It is such a beautiful sight to see this little black girl throw her arms around my mother and shout, "Grandma!"

Don't worry, Mama. We'll include good stuff like that in your eulogy too.
Just please stop with the whistling.

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Absolutely what she said.

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On Sunday, the final wedding event was the Walima, a sort of brunch reception that takes place after the consummation of the marriage. No, seriously, thatÂ’s what the speaker said at the thing. This event seems to be the groomÂ’s familyÂ’s doing, and it ended up being fairly military. My friend just got out of the Army after being Special Forces, so his Army buddies were in their dress blues, and they performed the saber arch as my friend and his new wife arrived. My friend also wore his blues, and his wife again looked stunning in a bejewelled robin-egg blue dress.

Some of my friendÂ’s cousins and friends got up and spoke a few words, like you would do at a toast during a Western wedding. I made some jokes about high school and what a good friend heÂ’s been over the past 16 years. And then there was Pakistani food and merriment again.

After my little toast, several people came up to me to thank me for my husbandÂ’s service, which is always nice but especially nice to hear from the Muslim community. In fact, during the wedding ceremony on Saturday, when the officiant mentioned that my friend had served his country, it got a round of applause during the sermon. Those things just affirmed my good feelings for everyone I met this weekend.

And my friend asked the wedding photographer to take a photo of two of the guests: his cousin, who wears a traditional turban, dishdasha, and long beard, and his SF buddy in his dress blues. Everyone laughed as the two men symbolically shook hands and then threw their arms around each other for a photo.

So that was the wedding. As I bid my friend and his wife goodbye, I got tears in my eyes. I was overwhelmed by the emotions of the weekend, and I sadly donÂ’t know when IÂ’ll get to see them again. His entire family made me feel so welcome this week, and I hate to say goodbye to them.

But heÂ’s kept in touch over the past 12 years, so IÂ’m sure we can manage in the future.

What an awesome experience this whole event was. I am so glad that I came home for it and that I got an inside glimpse at the local Muslim community and their customs. It really gave me a perspective on some things IÂ’ve only considered in the theoretical before.

(See also the Mehndi and the wedding posts.)

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Instapundit: Those Sadly Ill-Informed Foreigners

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August 18, 2008


Oh how I wish this were made up. I really do.

I don't know that I can come up with one that's that bad. I once met a Canadian my age who'd never heard of the Berlin Wall. I said, "Did you not watch any TV in 1989?"

Shoot, I was embarrassed during the Olympics opening ceremony when I didn't know where to find countries like Benin or Comoros. I felt like a dunce.

Every time I feel like I'm on the lower half of the intelligence bell curve, something reminds me that maybe I'm a little too hard on myself.

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