Semper Bellus

One of my very favorite things about being a part of the military family is the way humor comes into play in most situations.  Gallows humor?  We all got it.  And while inter-service rivalry is definitely there, even in the spouse world, a well placed joke about it will bring everyone together rather than creating hard feelings.   Yeah, sure, my Army brother likes to tease Air Force family about the amenities available to airmen worldwide while emphasizing how hard core Army life is.  But all we have to do is mention that we have more cable channels and the contest is over.

So, of course, this is the first thing that entered my mind when I read that the Air Force is looking for a motto and taking suggestions.  It's a serious question - it really is.  I know that.  But I couldn't help going for the funny first.  Like, for instance, the title of this post "Semper Bellus".  I think "Always Pretty" describes us pretty well. 

I'm also partial to, "Our Toys are Shiny."

But I'm an equal opportunity sarcastic motto creator, here.  Like, when I think about a new motto for the Army, I think that the Green Machine penchant for howitzers and the like totally warrants the motto, "We like the cars, the cars that go boom."

What are your motto ideas? 

What Military Men Want: We Write the List

From Shine, we learn what men really want. Click here to read the reasons, but below is the list:

1. A moratorium on drama 

2. Sexy sex 

3. Romance 

4. Truth 

5. Silence 

6. Dinner 

7. A sense of humor 

8. A listener

9. Matrimony 

10. An end to game-playing 

Okie-dokie.....

Well, let's turn this on its head a bit, shall we? What's important to Military Men? I'll go first:

Oh, Now it's ON

I have been chronicling my husband's love of all things Gear in The Geardo Chronicles.   It's truly ridiculous.  There's gear in every room of my house, and no matter how hard I try to pack all this stuff out of the way, it creeps back into every nook and cranny.

I've learned to live with it.  I can deal with finding holsters in my child's bedroom.  I understand that where other people use bungee cords to tie things down in pick up beds, we use 550 Cord.  I understand that body armor is bulky, and that the uniforms, boots, chem gear, and whatever else looked cool the day they had some to give out will take up a decent amount of room. 

But this time, Air Force Guy's gear has gone too far.  The other day I took out my sewing box to put some of those awesome sarcastic patches on my boxing bag, and I FOUND PIECES OF GEAR IN MY SEWING BOX.  Is nothing sacred?

Superpowers

A couple of years ago I wrote a post where everyone had to describe themselves in exactly six words.  Mine was, "I have not yet been arrested."

It's still true.  Barely.

Anyway, something Guard Wife said awhile ago got me thinking.  It seems Guard Wife has this amazing ability, and really I would call it a super-power, to always choose the best and juiciest watermelon from the supermarket.  And in summer, especially a truly yucky summer like this one, I think that superpower is an amazing one to have.

So, I got to wondering...

Virtual Road Trip--Who Wants Shotgun?!

Some of my fondest memories from childhood were the road trips.  I especially remember my mom's habit of stopping at the brochure walls at restaurants or highway rest areas, collecting the ones that were "on our way" either to or from our final destination, and stopping at some really incredible places.  Sometimes, they were historical and other times hysterical, but memorable nonetheless.

Last summer, we were in the official beginnings of my husband's deployment to Iraq.  Fast forward to this summer and we've added a kindergartener to the fold and my husband isn't traveling anywhere.  Because of our until-further-notice sentence of being housebound, I've become even more nostalgic about summers past and have already begun fantasizing about future summers where we can actually have fun.

I realized I'm likely not the only one whose summer is passing by at warp speed with nothing good to show for it.  I thought maybe someone in the crowd would want to join me on a virtual road trip and maybe we could have some fun without spending money or packing bags.  And, for those in our group who can go places or have already been traveling, pull out those travel tips and be ready to share!  Military families are some of the most well-traveled folks in any given room, so I KNOW you know how to have a good road trip.

Whose coming along for the ride?

 

Fit Club - Tips You Can Use

In the interests of covering all aspects of the fitness journey, we here at SpouseBUZZ like to make sure we pass on any tips we come across that can help reach a fitness goal or make the fitness journey more enjoyable.

For instance:  if you happen to have a really hard workout, then take a luxurious hot bath to relax, complete with exfoliation...

DON'T apply Ben Gay to your sore back or leg area afterwords. 

Learn from my mistakes, people.

No Howard Hughes Here

I have someone coming over to visit and my house is a wreck.  I'm going to be completely honest here and say my house is ALWAYS a wreck.  I know people who have clean houses.  In fact, I know people who have clean houses AND children!  And jobs, too!  But I'm not now and never have been one of them.

Also, it smells kind of funny here, and I can't quite track down why. 

I've been cleaning.  I've been tracking that scent like a bloodhound.  But things don't seem to get or stay clean.  Which is really embarrassing.  If my guest opens my refrigerator, I think I'll cry.  And that reminds me - I need to scrub out the microwave, too.  Ooops.

I would really appreciate it if, (1) someone could tell me I'm not alone here.  Also (2) if someone has a solution to the fact that every time I leave a room it magics itself into some kind of cleaning fiasco, that would be great. 

Thanks in advance. 

Imagine My Surprise!

I'm due a lot, and I do mean a lot, of back pay.

Oh, and we don't have "people," either....

But a gal can dream.

Pop Culture Suffers During Deployments

A couple of weeks ago we were sitting around the house having drinks with some friends of ours the night before they left for their PCS move. Our husbands were recently deployed together. Someone said something funny about pants and their girls launched into the "Pants on the Ground" song and dance, which was funny. At least most of us thought so.

Turns out, the guys were engaged elsewhere when the whole thing went down (pun intended) and missed the viral nature of Pants on the Ground. I'm sure dad was wondering why his pre-teen and six year-old daughters were singing about pants being on the ground....

Baffled...But Maybe It's Just the Heat?

The only light in this room right now is my Mac.  Lighting is too hot!  Our AC decided that it needed a break tonight.  Never mind that it has been steamy (literally) here today after several thunderstorms that only added to the humidity rather than dispel it.

My husband has been trying to connect with a buddy for two months.  He's wanted to have that "Hey!  I'm home from Iraq with all my pieces and parts" beer with him and tonight is the night! 

Then, the AC went out and my husband, in all seriousness and sincerity, said, "I'm going to call Jon and tell him I can't make it.  I can't have you home alone waiting for some repair guy to come!  It's almost eleven!"

::Blink, Blink::

Hello?  Have we met?

Your Kid Might Be a Mil-Brat When...

You are watching the news at the doctor's office and your child turns to you and asks, "Shouldn't Major Garrett have been promoted by now?"

Touche,  AF Child.  Touche.

Male to Female Militarese

Over the years, we at SpouseBUZZ have addressed the issue of the language that exists for those who serve in or are affiliated with the military (for short, called Militarese).   We PCS, our spouses go TDY, we get BAH, and if someone is out of line they get a Come to Jesus.

One thing we haven't really gone into, though, is the gender differences within Militarese.  Because I can tell you right now that I don't speak the same language as my husband. 

For instance...

We Interrupt This Programming With a Special Bulletin...

No, military personnel serving overseas are not granted occasional conjugal visits with their spouses. However, most of them are given a mid-tour R&R break. You may refer to that as a two-week conjugal visit if you so choose.

**************

This has been a special bulletin from military spouses worldwide. We now return you to our previously scheduled programming

**************

Carry on.....

Mollie Gross: Military Spouse Humor

Below is a portion of Mollie Gross' performance at SpouseBUZZ LIVE Nellis AFB on May 1:

 

Very funny lady..... 

You can purchase Mollie's book here.

English to Militarese FAIL - Case Study #2543

One of the instructors at my gym is a Marine currently awaiting information on the packet he submitted for OCS (or do Marines call it OTS?  I get all the different service terms confused fairly frequently).  He is a very nice guy and a great coach - he's already got quite a following in the kickboxing classes and he's only been at our gym about six weeks!

And it's not just women who swear by his coaching either, so although he's really is a cutie, I don't think that's the only reason for his following.  His classes are hard, and they are effective.  He's very good at leading, and kids in particular think he's the greatest thing since sliced bread.

Anyway, sometimes he and I have some service-related conversations going on;  he likes to get all "Oorah" and I like to remind him that the Air Force has better cable channels.  He waxes poetic about the Beef Rav MREs and I remind him that the Air Force has this thing called a "cafeteria" where hot food is served (although the Navy's lobster dinners totally win in that category, I think). 

We were having one of those conversations last week when I experienced a major English to Militarese FAIL.

Up In The Air

Although it is grammatically incorrect and it may make a nice title for a movie, the title of this post is not my favorite way for things in my life to be.  The end of deployment is upon us.  I'm not trying to be sly when I say I'm not sure when my husband will be home, but that I just know it's soon.

Not that I have to tell YOU that because you get it.

It's everyone ELSE who seems to think I'm keeping secrets.

Jumping the Deployment Shark

We have discussed Deployment's relationship with Murphy quite a bit.  And, even when everything that can go wrong does, there may come a time in deployment where we are lucid enough to realize that we have Jumped the Deployment Shark.

Maybe you remember the scene in Happy Days that spawned the phrase "jumping the shark", but if not, good old You Tube can refresh our memories: 

Join me after this post's jump (pun intended) to see if you, too, have jumped Deployment's Shark.

The Bra in Review

A few weeks ago Andi asked me if I'd be willing to try out a new sports bra and review it for a fit club post.

Um,  YES!  The quest for the perfect sports bra has been a top priority in my fitness journey since,  well, since I needed a sports bra for the first time.  I've been... blessed, you see.  And after breastfeeding four kids and weight yo-yo'ing like an Olympic Sport, I've become very sensitive to possibly developing the dreaded "envelope boob syndrome".  Especially with Air Force Guy gone so often, I don't want him to come home and exclaim in shock, "What happened THERE?"  I have my answer ready - "Gravity!", but it's still something that I'm not ready to contend with.

Add in a sport that's fairly high impact and you can see how finding the perfect sports bra becomes a full on quest.

Um, Hello? Snowmaggedon Here!

Last night I got a phone call from Air Force Guy.   He said, quite brightly, "So, I see you're getting some snow!"

Hearts Aren't For Sleeves

I can tell the end of this deployment is in sight.

Aside from the long to-do lists, the bags beneath my eyes, the new white hairs popping up all over my head (note to self:  root touch-up tomorrow night...STAT!), and my constant desire for but inability to sleep, I'm also not explaining myself anymore.

I've kind of decided it isn't anyone's business what's going on with me and, especially if you don't know me, if you have an issue with how my show is running at this point?  Well, too bad.

Coming in Last Place for the Mother of the Year Award

I'm pretty sure that you'll see, tucked in whatever-millionth place on the list of all American mothers this year, my name.   Number whatever million and three - airforcewife.

Thank you very much.

When Retraining is in Order...

When my husband came home from his last deployment, I noticed something that became a minor irritation to me. On those rare occasions when he replaced the toilet tissue, (doesn't it always seem like it runs out on your  watch?) he began placing the roll facing over, instead of under. 

I'm an under girl. Always have been. What can I say, it's how I was raised. I've often wondered about you over people. Don't you find that you're constantly having to re-stack the wad of toilet paper that just continues to roll even after you make your tear? We under people don't have that problem. Clean tear every time. No waste. No re-stacking.

I'm not sure how my husband became an over person while away, but he did. It took several weeks of retraining, but he finally got it and we reunited in the under-world. 

So, I amused myself a couple of days ago when I found that Cottonelle is conducting a Roll Poll. The videos are hysterical. You can even vote, or start a throwdown. Go on over. Vote. Laugh. Throwdown...

I'm deflated to see that my beloved under-world is losing. Badly. 

Heartache!

An Open Question

Just how many unit, deployment, event, and military themed t-shirts does one service-member need?

Seriously.  I really need to know this. 

Because 17 years from first signing the dotted line, I'm finally going through these things and I'm pretty sure I'll hit 100.  At least.

When Homeschooling Meets Military

We have four children, and they have all been home-schooled.  It works for us.

Anyway, one of the books we use for early reading is called "Explode the Code."  My kids LOVE Explode the Code (and I would heartily recommend it for early reading even if your children are attending regular school - it is fun and it works wonders), which uses silly sentences and pictures to teach all sorts of reading rules before the children even know they are learning. 

One of the exercises the books use is to take silly sentences (like:  Do Barby and a classmate ride horseback in rowboat?) and then ask the child if the sentence makes sense.  Today we got an interesting question:

Can an army on the hillside see in the darkness?

My six year old son said yes, the answer book said no.  My son, very exasperated, argued his point, "Haven't these people heard of NIGHT VISION GOGGLES?"

Touche. 

Slumber Parties?

Just before my husband came home for mid-tour leave, I went to a charity bull roast/silent auction fundraiser that a very old friend was organizing.  I love silent auctions for charity - it is fun to spend money for a good cause, and there are frequently good deals to be found.  They had all sorts of auctions - silent, live, and the raffle kind where you buy a ticket and drop it in a box/bucket/bag for the item that you want and one ticket is drawn out.

Militarese to English FAIL

When Air Force Guy came home on R & R it was great.  He came bearing gifts (yay!  early Christmas!) and he came bearing illness. 

AFG always comes home from deployment bearing some kind of illness to pass around the house.  We like to call it "The Crud".  Specifically, we call it the "Wherever-He-Was Crud."  So far we've passed around the Iraq Crud, the Korea Crud, the Afghanistan Crud and some kind of weird sneezing-with-cold-shivers thing we assumed was the Greenland Crud. 

We also all got sick when he got home from an extended training in Georgia.  I assume that was the Georgia version of The Crud.

Making the Funnies

I spend enough time online and know enough about communication to understand that many things, when written, do not end up being translated properly by the receiver.  Usually, I am apt to point this out to the receiver (usually my deployed husband) and remind him to ask for clarification if my written words do not make sense.

Guess I should take my own advice?

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.