Welcome Back, Murphy

What a sad little TV show that would be!  Welcome Back, Kotter was great.  Welcome Back, Murphy?  Not so much.

With everything that's been going on lately, I had not even uttered Murphy's name lately.  When I do, it is in the vein of Seinfeld's uttering Newman's name.

I Really Do Try to be a Grown Up

Situations happen to me.  They just do.  I have very little control over this fact, and I've learned to live with the ridiculousness that life throws at me.  It was always my dream to embody the cool elegance of Audrey Hepburn or the classiness of Grace Kelly.  However, it seems to be my destiny to be Lucille Ball.  On my good days, that is.  On my bad days I'm probably more like Joan Crawford, with complete strangers feeling oddly compelled to drop mini-curtsies my direction and call me, "Mommy Dearest."

But I digress.

Anyway, who knew that merely going through the grocery check out line could cause an existential crisis?

Dear Children

I realize that I'm the only adult in the house at the moment.  I understand sometimes you have questions that only an adult can answer:  like, "May I go outside and play?" and "May I have those leftover Pixie Stix since they didn't get into Halloween bags?" and the omnipresent favorite, "What's for dinner tonight?" (this one is usually asked at 8:30 am).

You may also find yourselves in a situation that only an adult can handle:  for instance, like that time when Daughter #1 shaved off her eyebrows and The Informer (Daughter #3) couldn't wait to spill the beans. 

But I beg you, please.  PLEASE contain yourselves until I leave the bathroom to ask me these things!  I'm doing stuff in there, stuff that you really aren't helping.  In fact, and this may surprise you, sometimes I go in there when I don't actually need to go in there just to get some privacy and solitude.  Which, I have to admit, is somewhat spoiled when you stand outside the door saying, "Mom!  Mom!  Mom!  Mom!  Mom!" 

As always, there is an exception for emergencies.  Like that time The Boy made a paperclip chain and decided to stick each end of it in a socket.  That calls for interrupting my Mom time in the bathroom. 

But otherwise?  For your own safety and well being I heartily suggest you take a chill until I come out.  I promise, I won't take too long.

Love, Mom

I Need a Do-Over!

At 10 am this morning I realized that I needed to go back to bed and start all over.

The  (bad) dog (which doesn't belong to me, but to a certain person who is taking an all expense paid extreme vacation) peed on the carpet right in front of me. 

When I got the Little Green Machine to clean it up, I dropped the dirty water ALL OVER THE FLOOR, which ran right to the baseboards I had been painting five minutes before the dog peed.

As I cleaned up the entire mess, I brushed up against the door frame I had painted and got Behr Snowfall Semi-Gloss all over my hair and back.

Then the evil blond child spilled my coffee on one of my books.

My stomach hurts.  I'm a little nauseous, too.  And I'm sicksicksick of grading papers already. 

I so totally understand Alexander, who had that terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.  I think I might have a sign made so people know when not to knock on my door.

WARNING!  AIRFORCEWIFE IS HAVING A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD, DAY!  PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK!  AND BRINGING CHOCOLATE MIGHT HELP!

So.  I think I might head back up to bed and put my current DVD'd season of choice on tv and pretend today hasn't really happened yet.

The End of an Era - Changing My Venn Diagram

Yesterday my 6 year old son told me something that nearly made my heart stop.

"Mom," he said.  "I think I want a normal haircut now."

Shhhhh. Be vewy, vewy kwiet.......

.....my Verbal Exchange Student is back in school.

*cue seasonal music*

Air Force, We Need to Work on This

I've been trying to find a Cub Scout pack for my son, which is not as easy as it sounds when you home-school!  You tend to miss all the neat-o reminders and such that go home in backpacks from the classroom.

However, I think I may have found a pack; and because I believe in full disclosure I let them know by email that I would not be very available for volunteer time this year while Air Force Guy is deployed and that I understood totally if this was an issue (can't do these things without volunteers, after all!). 

Proving once again that it is a small Air Force, the person who emailed me back let me know that they understood our situation totally, as they were an Air Force family themselves.  Well, cool!  And I felt this urge, this urge to say something that would bring us together, something that denoted a shared experience and a sisterhood.  Something like "Oorah" or "Hooah".  Something... But there wasn't anything to say.  The Air Force does not seem to have a club house password, and it can be a bit awkward at times.

Well, that's not entirely true.  Air Force people seem to say "Outstanding" a lot.  It's just not the same thing, though.  I've seen my Army brother hold entire conversations with people using only facial expressions and the grunts of "Huh and Hooah."  "Outstanding" just does not have the same breadth of expression.

Air Force, we need to work on this.

Marvin K. Mooney, Will You Please Go Now!

Having already established that my life is like "If You Give a Moose a Muffin," a new book has been added into the mix at our house.

Marvin K. Mooney, Will You Please Go Now!

Trust me, I'm not trying to get rid of my husband and I really would like to keep him home with us for a bit.  But if the last two deployments he went on busted the schedule by having him leave earlier than anticipated (and quite suddenly in the case of the first deployment), this one has tried to make up for that by continually setting his date to leave back.  This means several things...

And the Geardo Saga Continues

Air Force Guy missed 5.11 Day.  It was a big blow, but luckily the guy at the store selling 5.11 gear put everything he needed (ahem, it should be "needed", if you know what I mean) on back-order. 

This, of course, meant that we spent the last four days going into the 5.11 store every day for AFG to run in excitedly and ask, "Is it here yet?  Is it here yet?"  Today his things finally came in.  And we're at the point where the amount of gear in this house has surpassed critical mass. 

Just when I thought our experiences were unique....

Almost 20 years ago, when I became a new military bride, my mother gave me a clipping out of an old Wives Club newsletter from way back when she was a new military bride.  Recently, while trying to sift through all the clutter that has gathered in the house in the few years we've been here, I found the poem.  I was shocked at how similar it all was to what we all endure today!  So, I thought I'd share my blast from the past....

'Magazines' Has Two Definitions

Before my husband deployed, he decided that one thing he'd like to spend his own money on was PMAGs, polymer magazines for his rifle.  He was excited about buying these, and it was fun to see him enjoying his new toy.

My mother called that day and I was telling her about the errands we'd run, and how happy my husband was that he bought new PMAGs.  Then I realized she wouldn't know what that meant, so I tried to clarify by saying he'd gotten P-Magazines.  My mom doesn't know guns, but I thought that by now, after being an enthusiastic military mother-in-law for seven years, she would recognize the word 'magazine' to mean 'ammo cartridge.'

A few days later, my mother gingerly brought up the fact that I had been so nonchalant about my husband buying porn magazines.

Oh good heavens.

Never in a million years did I imagine that PMAGs could've been interpreted as pornography.

And thank goodness my mother was brave enough to ask for clarification!

AWTM cracked up when I told her the story; she said she could just imagine what my mother had been thinking in the interim, while she thought I had dutifully gone with my husband to pick out porn for him to take with him on deployment.  My mom laughed and said, "Well, I sure thought you were an awful understanding and supportive wife!"

When militarese goes bad, it goes very bad indeed...

The Hostility in this Household Must Stop!

I love having my husband home and not deployed. I really, really do. But, I've found things around the house are always a little different when he's home. Specifically, there are several items in the house which seem to prefer that my husband be far, far away from home. They like me. They do not like him. When he returns, they suddenly disappear. I'm not sure what he's done to them, exactly, which causes them to perform their vanishing act. 

But they do. And it's getting to be problematic.

Now That's Can't Be Normal!

A few weeks ago my husband brought home a piece of paper he received after his records were reviewed when he transferred into a new detachment.

The piece of paper said (paraphrased):  Your qualification on the Uzi has been revoked because you have failed to requalify within the required amount of time.

After several hours of having seen that paper and not noticed anything unusual about it, I realized that the fact that we had that paper in our house and didn't see anything unusual about it was probably *not normal.*

On the other hand, it is OUR normal.  Just like moving every few years, decorating our house like  Middle Eastern Applebee's, and eating copious amounts of delicious Afghan food.  It's very odd to my family and quite a few of my friends from "before", but it is our normal.

In fact, I realized that a lot of the things that are "our normal" are so, well, normal for us that I never even notice they might be off until a socially awkward situation develops (see also:  ruck - humping; misuse of).  Since I'm all about preventative measures to avoid embarrassing situations (like it ever works for me), I'd like to hear things you've discovered about the military that don't always translate to the outside world.

What's your normal?

The Miss-O-Meter

I spent last week visiting my husband on his final pass prior to his leaving for his overseas deployment.  When I returned home, I picked up the mail that the Post Office had been holding for me.  As I thumbed through the bills, magazines, and junk, I saw it.

A big envelope with Deployment in the "From" field and my name in the "To" field. 

I ran my hands over the envelope and realized what had finally arrived.

The Miss-O-Meter.

This is My Brain

With Air Force Guy coming and going on a very frequent basis, it has become accepted fact in our family that my brain is the repository for all things... well, all things.  Need to know how old the roof is?  2 years.  Family blood types?  Four B negatives and an O negative.  Need a kennel?  A mechanic (I found a great one, by the way, who doesn't overcharge or cheat us!)?  Who is our doctor?  Husband has a headache - what could have triggered it?  Oh, and by the way, the minivan is about ten miles overdue for an oil change.  AND DON'T PUT THAT IN THE DRYER!

Unfortunately, keeping all this information on ready access alert in my head (I do write everything down as well) means that most days I engage in quite a lot of stream of consciousness thought.

For instance:

Make That Two Suitcases

My husband starts block leave today, and next week we're jetting off for our first hotel vacation in four years (you know, as opposed to the go-visit-family vacations that military families usually spend their leave days on.)  Since airlines now charge for suitcases, I assured my husband that we would be able to fit all our stuff in one big suitcase.  It's only a week, right?  And it's summer, so there's no bulky sweaters or coats.

Apparently I didn't think this one through...

Putting Down the Yo-Yo

Since early this year, my family has been enduring the predeployment yo-yo.  You know the one.  Two weeks of training.  A weekend at home.  Three weeks training.  A weekend at home.  A month of training.  Five days at home.  A month of training in a different state.  A few days' pass before heading overseas.

I'm not going to lie.  I was never a big fan of yo-yos.

A Conversation With the Air Force Kids

Overheard today at the Post Office:

Son:  What does APC stand for?

Blond Daughter:  Armored Personnel Carrier

Son: How do you know that?

Blond Daughter:  Don't you ever watch Daddy's shows with him? 

*APC at the Post Office means Automated Postal Center

Permanent Change

I put an update on Facebook right after I wrote my I'm a PCS Worrier post, saying that I was already freaking out about PCSing.  A civilian friend contacted me with excitement and surprise because he had looked up the term "PCS."  And therefore, we were going to be permanently stationed somewhere.

And I had this hilarious realization: permanent change of station has the word permanent in it.  Ha!  Why on earth is that?  There is nothing permanent about PCSing!

I had never before realized how absurd that term is.

Only the military would put the word "permanent" next to the word "change."

From Kid in the Candy Store to Disgraced Grown Up

My husband and I recently returned from a once-in-a-lifetime vacation. We planned our trek across Europe almost a year ago, and finally it was time for our adventure to begin. Every second of every day had been pre-planned. We knew exactly where we wanted to go and what sights we wanted to see. I was certainly looking forward to driving on the autobahn without any fear of blue lights appearing in my rear-view mirror...

One day, we decided to deviate from the plan and pop in on a military installation just because we were nearby. That's where the trouble began, and that's where I shamed myself and proved I'm unworthy of milspouse status.

Is That...?

The microwave repairman just left my house.  He wasn't much less perplexed when he left than when he walked in (and he has to return next Tuesday to install the proper piece, too). 

The poor man had no idea what he was getting into when he took this appointment call.  He was obviously quite disconcerted to walk into my entryway, glance into the dining room, and see a giant poster of Saddam Hussein on the wall.

Front Gate Fun!!!

Awhile back, I wrote a post about having a problem at the front gate.  You know...the upside down ID card means distress" problem?  Friday, I had a whole new problem with my ID card.   

I Am MilSpouse, Hear Me Roar! (*sputter*)

Two days ago, on  the way to prepare dinner, I somehow managed to slip and fall down the stairs at my house.  Because I tend to do most things in a big way, the result was that I somehow managed to smash my tailbone into every step on the way down, only stopping because I ended it by crashing into the wall. 

Very typical.

And it hurt.  A lot.  My pride most of all.  Anyway, I had things to do (like feed a roiling horde of hungry children) so when after a short break to regain my breath (and my dignity), I hitched into the kitchen to make something to eat.  As any milspouse will tell you whenever something happens - life goes on.

Luckily, yesterday morning I felt a little stiff, but otherwise fine.  Life goes on, right?  I had a bathroom that needed the wallpaper scraped off, so I set to work.

Big mistake.  Big, giant, BAD mistake.

Last Chance To-Do List

No pressure or anything.  My husband's last pass prior to his final weeks of training begins this weekend.  This will likely be the last time he will set foot in this house for over a year.  No pressure.

I have a tendency to create a monstrous and ridiculous to-do list when my husband is due home from deployment.  I'm promising (in writing no less) NOT to do that this time IF, and only if, I can pretty please have some karmic intervention to accomplish the following to-do list before he leaves in a few days.

The LAST Straw

I can so sympathize with Andi's post!

Some days just stink.  And have you ever noticed that when all Heck breaks loose, it is usually some silly little thing that sets it off?

Sometimes it seems like we can weather the apocalypse, only to completely fall apart (momentarily, of course) when you open a box of Mac and Cheese without the packet of neon cheese powder in it.

George Burns Had It Right

I was shopping for a card a few years ago and saw a great one emblazoned with a quote by George Burns on it:

Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city.

Of course, this quote is the preface to yet another story involving my mother-in-law.

A Little Disoriented

My husband, who is deployed right now, had to come to Washington, DC, for a meeting.  And since we live near DC, this meant that he was coming home unexpectedly.  As you can imagine, I was delighted.  Okay, delighted with reservations.  He's only been gone two months, so I have made close to zero progress on my whole "get skinny-clean and decorate the house-save a bjillion dollars-transform the children into model citizens" plan.  But those aren't really the important things, so I was truly delighted when he climbed into the car at the airport.

The first night, (when I'm sleeping on my own side of the bed instead of his side, where I sleep while he's gone,) I wake up in the middle of the night and realize that there is someone in my bed and it isn't a child.  I clearly wasn't entirely awake because I'm perplexed.  I'm pretty sure that I know who this person is, like his name and his personality, but I'm not exactly sure how he's related to me or why he is in my bed.  In my delirium, I figured I'd better go sleep on the sofa.  As I'm fumbling around for my glasses, it occurs to me: maybe I'm married to him.  Since this sounds vague familiar, and I'm really tired, and the sofa is at least twenty five feet away, I just put my head back down on the pillow.

Fortunately, my confusion was gone when I woke up properly the next morning.  However, it made clear to me how hard it must be for my husband's brain to keep track of the upheaval of his life.  And it was funny, in retrospect.  Plus, I remembered who he was for the whole rest of the visit. Yeah!

The Virtues of Situational Awareness

As I was traveling this weekend for SpouseBUZZ LIVE Hampton Roads, I had a V-8 moment. Airports are not hell to maneuver because there are mobs of people. No, it's because there are mobs of people with no situational awareness. The people in the security lines who do not have their stuff in order so they can get through the line as painlessly as possible (therefore making it as painless on us as possible). Then, there are the ones who forget to take the change out of their pockets and set off the magnetometer.

Then there are the families or groups of people who are traveling together and insist on fanning out, side-by-side and "strolling" through the airport, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they have caused a huge pile-up of people behind them who are uninterested in a leisurely stroll. Then there are the people who decide to stop mid-walk and text their friends, causing human crashes. On and on it goes. You see, if everyone had situational awareness, airports would run efficiently.

Tips Here and There

There are a few things that I wish people had told me before each PCS we've made.  Things like:  rain is not a seasonal event confined to the months between December and March in most places, so plan outdoor events accordingly.  Or things like:  salad bars as a one course restaurant do not exist in great quantity outside California.

I can't tell you how long I've been craving Fresh Choice or Sweet Tomatoes here, people.  It's becoming an obsession.

I'd love to see the collective power of SpouseBUZZ at work on this.  In the comments section, let us know what lessons you've learned about new places in the course of your PCSing.  It's all good -  you never know who is getting ready to move where you already know the scoop.  You may be able to answer the question someone else doesn't even know they need to ask!

I'll get this started:

FACT:  In Texas, all soft drinks are referred to generically as "coke".  If someone asks, "Would you like a coke?"  they are not referring to only one product.  Your "yes" answer will most likely be followed up with, "What kind?"

FACT:  If you go searching for Carl's Jr and can't find one, it's probably because in the new place Carl's Jr is  Hardees.

You Know You've Been Air Force Too Long When

You have a conversation like this:

A Day in the Life

You never get a second chance to make a first impression.

And in the military life, we get LOTS of chances for first impressions!  Case in point...

Feelin' Funky And Not In A Good Way

Sometimes having the funk is a good thing...as in a Parliament "We need the funk!  Gotta have that funk!" kind of way.  Other times, though, a negative, non-germ related funk envelopes you and you find yourself fighting the funk.

I'm up to my hairline in the funk and I'm asking you for some funk-busting methods.

Dear Nikki

One of the best things I found on my Fitness Journey (which has turned out to be a long and wandering road complete with lots of mud-holes and rest stops along the way) was Nikki Fitness.  I spent a good three months floundering around without much to show for it prior to using Nikki's Military Wife Workout DVD - and then seeing results within a month was what I really needed.

Nikki has also done several SpouseBUZZ Talk Radio shows with us, and she is just full to the brim with advice that has made a huge impact on my workout.  Plus, she's just plain fun to talk to!

But I have a few things I have to get off my chest.

Dear Nikki:

An Open Letter

Dear Deployment,

Although I understand that we are not strangers, I did want to set forth a few ground rules and observations before you officially begin your timeline.  First and foremost, please remember that I despise surprises so should you feel the need to visit again before my husband retires, a little notice never hurt anyone.  Frankly, I'd appreciate it if you would just take the hint and make yourself scarce, but I understand that you have a job to do and you sometimes find it necessary to do it repeatedly and on your own terms.

In Which airforcewife Declares War and Reaps the Whirlwind

I know I mentioned that some nasty bit of germ warfare has been making its rounds through Air Force Family.  Over and over and over again.

Making a lot of rounds.

Well, because I have a lot of things to do (family coming to visit, cookie mom for one daughter's Girl Scout troop, various other activities), on Saturday I declared war on those germs and decided to eradicate them from my house.  I was SO DONE.  Done, I tell you!

However, someone forgot to tell the germs.

We Interrupt This Broadcast...

Remember when THAT message used to interrupt your favorite programs and make you roll your eyes?  I feel like I had one of those moments this weekend at my husband's deployment briefing.  I purposely had not "tuned in" to the fact that today marks the start of his last full week at home for at least a year.  Before Saturday, I was blissfully ignoring how entirely tiny the month of February actually is and how March was ready to roar in like a lion.

Then, the briefing and suddenly, it was like I was jolted from my happy land of denial over and over.

Time for a laugh

As many of you are aware, the last six months for my family have been .... well, rough.  This came into my Inbox yesterday and gave me such a belly-laugh.  So, I thought I'd share.....'cause we can all use a good giggle or three for one reason or another these days.

The Plague

My husband spent the entire last weekend in bed, convinced he was suffering through what could only be a re-emergence of the Black Death.  In his misery, he was sure that that the illness that decimated Europe in the Middle Ages was making a come-back and he was Patient Zero. 

I'll admit it.  I'm a bad person.  I spent a lot of time laughing at the poor guy's predicament.  Of course I was sympathetic!  When he was able to keep fluids and food down again I brought him Gatorade and chicken soup.  I went out for crackers and sourdough bread.  I made sure he had a buffet of pills to choose from.

But whenever my husband gets struck down with one of his bouts of "just kill me now!" illness, I do find the irony giggle inducing.  He spends so much time in nasty situations with his motto being "Suck it up!" that being knocked down by a stomach bug seems so... anti-climactic.  And after talking to other mil-spouse friends it seems that he is not the only one this happens to.

My New Family Rule

I have made a unilateral decision that no one in my family is allowed to change their cell phone numbers.  Ever. 

It's not like they need to - you can take your number with you anywhere.  And I have a good reason for this. 

Now I'm Scared

It takes a lot to scare me.  I mean, I go through life like anyone else.  Like most military spouses, I just don't have the time to let my emotions do what they've been urging me to do.  There's just too much to do.

But this morning I woke up, and I still can't shake the odd feeling that something is just not right.

It all started with my kids...

Military OneUpMan-ship

I was raised a miltary brat.  Which is to say that I was raised in..."Dignified Poverty".  After all, that was the era of white glove inspections and tea parties for the wives clubs (and they were wives clubs back in the very old and not so good days!).  At any rate, this is the tale of the military brat (specifically my sister) all grown up!

My sister lives in a suburb of Dallas. One day she was having luncheon with a few of her friends - none of whom grew up military. They were exchanging stories of their growing up years and the neighborhoods in which they grew up. The conversation spiraled into a cycle of "I lived better than you", typical female stuff, but all in a good-natured way. As only my sister can do, she had the best one-up line ever.  As they all talked about their posh neighborhoods and gated communities, she came up with, "When I grew up, I lived in a gated community too....but our gate guards carried M16's and had close air support back-up if necessary!"

Who'd have thought that growing up in the Air Force would have put one in such an exclusive neighborhood!?!?!?  What are your funny memories of military childhood, if you were fortunate enough to have been raised in the service?  What do you think your kids will talk about when asked about their neighborhoods growing up?

She Wins

We've heard many crazy stories about homecoming, from AirForceWife tripping and falling as she ran to her husband to some saucy stories told at SpouseBUZZ Lives about interesting undergarments (or lack thereof).  But I have never heard of a wife nearly getting arrested for disorderly conduct on the way to her husband's homecoming...until now.

Glad that all worked out for you, Sara.  And enjoy your time with your husband!

Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus

2008 was the year of weird TDY trips. First there was this, then just before Christmas came another bizarre incident. Bizarre might not be the right word, humorous is more like it. Only it would be my husband, not me, who got the last laugh this time around.

My husband went on a TDY assignment in late-November and called me that evening when he got to his hotel room. He was grumbling about the fact that he had left an essential item at home.

When Militarese Goes Wrong

It was bound to happen sometime -  the fact that my first language fluency is Militarese has gotten me into a bit of a job pickle.

Well, it's not really a pickle.  But there was a brief situation of concern.

You Mean I Have to PAY to Drive Here?

Before my life as a military spouse, I was born and raised and grew up in California.  Not Northern California, either.  The part of California where most people live - in various towns back and forth between the coast and the Central Valley.  I started life as a military spouse with all sorts of pre-conceived California notions.  Like:

Snow is exotic and interesting and fun!

Rain is wonderful!  We don't get enough of it!

Toll roads!  Ha!  What a novel idea!  I supposed it's a good idea if it helps to keep the roadways fixed!

Tortillas and fresh guacamole are staples of life.  I'm SURE we'll be able to get them wherever we end up stationed!  I mean, we're still in the CONUS, right?

Homonym, Acronym, Synonym....Oh My!!

Everyone has their own niche, their own aptitudes, talents, etc. One of mine happens to be the English language. Or more precisely, the written English language. My family and friends will swear (at me) to the fact that I can be a *little* fastitidous. (they use *another* word, but this is a family web site) I am the "Designated Editor" for term papers, letters to whomever, resume's, etc., and I have been known to correct letters, upcoming announcements, flyers, etc. that come from SWHNOB's school and send them back. Many are the times, after my little red pen and I are done, that I've been accused of getting a paper cut and bleeding all over the page.

I Always Think the Worst First

This doesn't make sense to everyone, but even though I'm an optimist I always plan for the worst case scenario to happen.  In fact, I expect it to.  That way when it doesn't I feel like I'm the luckiest person on earth.

For instance - if I have to take my car in to the mechanic, I always assume it will take the entire amount (to the penny) of whatever we have in savings to fix it.  That way when the mechanic calls and lists some amount that would normally cause my heart to completely stop, I feel like I got off easy.

Usually this helps me save my sanity.  Today it made for some very amused conversation.

Service Wars: Bust-A-Move Edition

Post bumped from original publishing date. I needed a laugh this morning, how about you?

Nominees in the "Best Performance" category are:

The United States Marines:

The United States Navy:

The United States Air Force:

The United States Army:

The United States Coast Guard (with Army Spouse):

airforcewife Humiliating Moment #18976

We're moving.  Again.

Well, actually I'm in the process of moving stuff and fixing stuff as we were able to buy our first house and it needed some work.

I have a laminate flooring now.  I have painted walls.  I have eight of my bookcases and my couch.  I even, as of Wednesday, have internet and cable tv.  And the story of my FiOS installation is what I'm about to tell you.

It's All Over But the Memories...

Sure the calendar has bid a fond farewell to the month of October, but that doesn't mean your memories of Halloween '08 have to say bye-bye too.  After all, don't you have SCADS of candy lying around?  And, is your trick-or-treater donning his/her costume and parading around the living room today?

Just how might you want to chronicle this year's Halloween festivities?

Military Crop Talk has your answers!