Life is Like a Cup of Coffee

Yesterday I was doing some grocery shopping. Kids were complaining of a decided lack of sustenance in the pantry, mainly junkfood. I was complaining of a decided laziness in their bones that prevented them from actually cooking what was available. But I was running very low on coffee and creamer and decided my needs outweighed my crankiness, so off I went to Walmart. Why there? because I didn’t feel like putting on make-up, ok??

Anyway, I got some general school supplies, some new anti-wrinkle cream, just random crap. Eventually I make it to the coffee aisle, whereupon I begin to make my selections: Donut House coffee and some hazelnut cappuccino for Eldest. Standing in front of the vast selection of K-cup coffee is an older couple, looking a bit dazed and confused. Having been in a similar circumstance when I first got my Keurig™, I decided to offer any help in picking out coffee. I’m not a connoisseur by any means, but I figured I knew a bit more than they did. I asked them if they needed any help, and the gentleman turned to me to thank me and asked me for advice.

That’s when I noticed his cap. He was a Marine, and had served in WWII and Korea. He was a little stooped, but when I asked him about his service he stood a little more straight as he spoke of his time in the Marines. He never spoke of the gore and the violence, though. He talked about the field, and his friends, and how even now he sometimes put coffee grinds between his gum and cheek so he wouldn’t wake his wife by using the coffeemaker. He talked about how the only fights he had were over who got the first cup of joe before patrol (first one done, was first one out on patrol). Coffee, he said, kept him sane and kept his world going. As I shook his hand to wish him well, he noticed my Aggie ring. He asked what class I was, and then proceeded to tell me of the Aggies he knew from his time in service: the Aggie who rescued cattle at the expense of a truck’s tires; the Aggie who made pigeon stew; the Aggie who sang before battle. He told me that every Aggie he knew was made from something he could never define, but that was easily recognizable. I told him I felt the same way about my Marine friends. He laughed and told me I was probably right. As I thanked him for his service, he asked me to thank my husband for his. When I asked him how he knew my husband was in the service, he pointed to my purse: Hubby’s Purple Heart, which I always carry with me, was sticking out. I laughed and thanked them both for a lovely time spent in the coffee aisle. They waved and wished me a good day.

In truth the medal could have been my dad’s or my brother’s or mine. But he is a gentleman of another era who learned that only men go into combat. His memories will soon leave us without record but that of what he chooses to leave behind. In that moment, I felt very small. I had been in the presence of greatness by virtue of history. I pray his story is told for a long time, and that children learn good things from it, like the reason those men fought over a cup of coffee.


Tuesday Sithy

You know, if this were an actual league, I would buy jerseys and give a darn about a team, or five.

the vaders football helmet

You can find them all here. Originally found at Imgur.

Now I’m off to go to the DMV to get Son’s driver’s permit. I have been trying to accomplish this for a week, which is why I have been remarkably absent around here, and which is also why y’all get a Sithy today. Otherwise I would be ranting and raving about government offices and no one has time for that ;)


I’m Not Old Enough For This

I am a bit freaked out today. Today marks a turning point in my life, and as much as I wished to be ready for it, I don’t think I am. No, nothing bad has happened. Everyone is in good health and accounted for. Also, I have my vehicle back so I am once again mobile, as in mom taxi. No, I am simply overwhelmed by the fact that today is my Eldest’s 19th birthday.

woman crying

WHAT HAPPENED????

It was just a while ago that she was catching lizards and geckos outside. Wait, that was literally two or three days ago. But I still remember her coming to me and asking for a pony tail, and picking out her “on”*. I still remember her asking for her sippy cup. I remember going Easter egg hunting and finding ladybugs to catch instead. I remember her crawling into bed with us when she heard thunder. Now she runs outside to take photographs of rain clouds and lightning. It wasn’t too long ago that she was asking for my help in shopping. Now she drives herself and gets whatever she needs.

*sobbing uncontrollably*

I’m not old enough for this. She was the first to make me a mother, and the first to make her way into the world. Her path to adulthood has not been without mistakes, but she has learned from those pitfalls and in that she has shown a maturity that is beyond her years. My baby is growing up, and all I can do is kick her out of the nest encourage her to fly.

I’m not old enough for this. But I do have to accept it. I take comfort in the fact that I will always be her momma. She may think I am a fuddy duddy and don’t know what I’m talking about right now, but just wait. She will face up to my wisdom soon enough ;)

*An “on” is a pony tail holder or hair clip. When they were little, I would hold one up to the girls and ask, “Do you want this on?” They understood “on” to be the name of the item. And they do call them by that to this day :)


The Art of the Insult

Before I begin, I wish to stress that this is a PG blog, and I do tend to monitor-slash-censor for the sake of my kids who do happen to read my blog. No I don’t force them to do so. Nor do I bribe them. I simply let curiosity get the best of them. I’m sneaky like that.

Anyway, I was watching TV last night, and heard a common and rather trendy insult being bandied about: douche bag. Now, being a gal, I am well aware of what an actual douche bag is. But I fail to see why it is considered an insult. A douche is designed as a cleansing agent, the bag HOLDS said cleansing agent. It is sterile and clean. The bag itself never becomes contaminated. It is an object that helps to aid in cleansing, people. How is THAT a bad thing? I think we are losing the art of the insult when we adopt terms from people who do not understand the true meaning of it. That’s just lazy. And we can and have done better than that. Shakespeare created hundreds of new words in his works, and we are letting them go to waste.

shakespeare insult lol

My blogger friend Nicki is a master of the insult. This blog post gives you an example of her linguistic prowess (warning: salty language). Just today she introduced me to another one at the social-site-with-faces. One I can’t repeat here, unfortunately. And let’s not forget our friend BC over at The Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler!! As scathing as cursing can be, one doesn’t have to rely on cussing to get a good insult across. The classic “bless your heart” goes a long way towards insulting someone, but it’s rather colloquial. I used it on a friend from Philly and he thanked me for my kindness. Sigh….. My son once told a bully that he “had the vocabulary of a head of cabbage.” Before the bully could digest that, Son simply walked away and was never bothered again. Language can be like a scythe when used effectively.

So put some effort into using the vastness of the English language. Heck, just a little effort is all you need. Instead of calling someone a douche bag, call them a colostomy bag. Think about THAT for a moment, and appreciate the beauty of how devastating an insult that is ;)


But Wait! There’s More!

As most of y’all know, the word “gullible” doesn’t exist in my dictionary. I am prone to be trusting. Sometimes that’s a good thing, and sometimes it’s not. This can be a bad thing with people, so I try to be on my guard as best as I can manage. But it is especially bad when it comes to….. commercials.

Cindy Crawford with some new skin care? I want to rush out to get it.

New ceramic cookware? Sign me up!

A new shampoo made from the tears of alpacas?? GOTTA HAVE IT!!!

I do draw the line at the Jockey™ custom bra dealio, though.

Seriously, I am very susceptible to that crap. Luckily there’s the Internet. I have to force myself to look up information on every blingy thing that catches my eyes. And yes, I do mean “force”. Sometimes the Internet is a huge time suck and the next thing I know it’s dinnertime and the kitchen still has the morning dishes in the sink. So I try to limit my time on the laptop. Shut it, I typed “try”. Advertising has com a heck of a long way since the Tootsie Pop™. And the fact that computer graphics are used willy nilly doesn’t help much, either. Seriously, Slim Jim™ jerky sticks do NOT make for a good rope. Trust me on this.

I was hoping that the older I got, the less gullible I became. Sigh…. fending off ageing makes one far more vulnerable to this crap. I should give up and let Nature finish the furrows on my face. But not until I try that new stuff from Neutrogena™ :D


And on This Day, We Celebrate

Let’s remember what our forefathers were fighting, against and for.

god bless america

It seems that lately we are forgetting to bless what we have. We have forgotten why we fought for independence. We have forgotten to be not just a beacon but also an example to others who are struggling to be free. Instead we find ourselves wondering what the government will do for us now, and how it will take care of us.

We need to remember that WE are the stewards, not the government. WE THE PEOPLE. We need to begin taking care of ourselves again. Remember: that which gives you everything, can also take it away.

The Tree of Liberty seems to be wilting, and it may be time to water it again.


Family Reunion, Binding Since 1809

No, not since 1809. I’m pretty sure the reunions began in the 20th century. Still, Hubby’s family has hosted a reunion since well before I joined it, so it has that going for it. I think. Anyway, this past weekend was especially fun, since my sister-in-law came down for a visit and attended it as well.

family reunion

It was fun, but also very bittersweet. The group was smaller, and some were older, and others gone on. Remembering them was especially hard for some of us that had not attended the reunion in the past few years, but it was also a chance to make resolutions to not let time go by and try to keep in touch with extended family. It was also a chance to learn new things.

The EPA has only 200 armed agents in its Criminal Division.

Play-Doh™ colors fade after a few months.

One is never too old for Play-Doh™.

Lemon pound cake is the equivalent of crack.

First dibs is totally legal.

Memories become sweeter with time.

But most important, Time never stops for anyone. I still live with the regret of waiting to connect with someone because “there’s always next year”. Yes, next year is sure to come, but one isn’t guaranteed the chance. Don’t wait to do tomorrow what you can do today.

Unless it’s the dishes. There’s paper plates for that :)


Women, Handbags, and Shoes

I took Little One shopping for clothes this past weekend. Seems she is growing and I can no longer ignore the fact that she is not a little girl. That meant taking her shopping to places were I like to shop.

For myself.

Don’t freak out. I restrained myself. I didn’t get anything.

Ok, I got ONE shirt.

And PJs. Stop judging me!!

Moving on, she got quite the haul: jeans, shirts, sweaters, camis, and PJs (she’s my mini-me, after all). She was very amiable to my advice for once, until it came to getting accessories of any kind. It was like she became a burro. Seriously, THAT stubborn.

Me: You should get a nice purse to use in high school, honey.

Mini-Me: Why? I don’t like them. Besides, I think policy is changing to all-clear bags.

Me: What did you say??

Mini-Me: All-clear ba–

Me: No, before that!!

Mini-Me: I don’t like purses.

Me: WHERE DID I GO WRONG???

She just rolled her eyes and laughed at me. But that got me to thinking (I do that on occasion, you know). Why are most women so hung up on purses, and shoes as well? Think about it: they are utilitarian items that we take to fashion extremes. Shoes are mainly used to protect our feet, and purses are used to carry stuff we need that we can’t fit in pockets easily. That’s it. Most men have under four pairs of shoes. But not most women. It’s like a drug. You get one pretty pair, and you just HAVE to get another, and another, and another until your closet looks like Payless™ puked. And the same for handbags! Witness what happened to me, remember? It’s like a moral imperative. And as I thought for the reason as to why we are so enamored of such accessories, I finally came to a not-very-flattering conclusion:

We buy the purses and the shoes in order to justify purchasing the outfit.

Tell me I’m wrong. Someone, PLEASE tell me I’m wrong!!

Because the shirt I bought this weekend really goes well with my new sandals, and I’m hoping I’m not that shallow :D


Weekend Hijinks, and Why I Can’t Have a Chandelier

This past weekend was the sort-of-annual Rott Fest™, where members of the Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler blog get together to catch up and have fun. This year was no different. As we do every time at least two Rotties get together, we went to a gun range to expend a healthy amount of ammunition.

Actually this happens whether or not Rotties get together.

Anyway, esteemed K.o.R. Crunchie brought his Israeli friend Uzi for us to meet. I had met her before in Florida, but I needed a proper introduction in order to enjoy her charm. Boy howdy, was she fun. She ate 9mm with all the gusto of a coloratura soprano at a Thanksgiving feast. I almost needed a cigarette after that. Almost.

After the range, we retired to the hosts’ compound to enjoy a BBQ repast. Ok, we enjoyed an alcohol repast supplemented by BBQ. I finally got to meet long time FIF LC Staci so that was definitely a plus for me. She and I share an uncommon bond, especially when it comes to Urban Decay™. And jewelry, even home jewelry. Talking about non-weaponry items caused the gents’ eyes to glaze over, but it was still nice to talk about other things besides 9mm versus .45. She and I see eye-to-eye on the NEED of having a chandelier somewhere, anywhere in the house, but that is something Hubby will just not allow. Why? Because the room I want to put a chandelier in is the bedroom, and he is adamant on having a ceiling fan. But I may have found an acceptable compromise.

Chandelier-Floor-Lamp-Photo

Yep, a floor lamp. I saw it on an HGTV show and now it is under my skin. Where I would put it, I have no idea. How I would buy it, no clue either. I foresee a project in my future.

So yes, we had a great time visiting old friends and making new ones, and once again I was foiled in my attempts to glamorize my bedroom. I will have to stick to the cursed ceiling fan. It’s a small price to pay for harmony :)

 


At Least It’s Not Tuesday the 17th

And Bianca’s not toast*.

I’m not a superstitious gal. Ok, I’m just a little stitious*. I like black cats, walk under ladders, have broken enough mirrors to have supposed “bad luck” until the year 59,326 AD, spill salt all over the kitchen, and open umbrellas indoors in order to make sure they work before I step into rain.

Who wants to be caught in a downpour with a broken umbrella?

Apparently there is a convergence of Cosmic Karma™ this evening. Not only is it Friday the 13th, but there will be a full moon as well. That means we will be going outside with my awesome Celestron™ telescope to watch the moon.

Moon in color

M-O-O-N!! That spells “moon”*.

I hope y’all enjoy the evening, and if you see any werewolves, send them to Trader Vic’s* ;)

*Leave a comment if you get the references!


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