Look out; B-Day Coming Through

The reality that Charley is back in the Army is starting to sink in. DOH! I was kinda hoping that it would hold off until the first deployment orders came in. Cause I know they are coming, I feel it in the air.

Or maybe, it’s the chill of fall in the air. Or perhaps the knowledge that I am about to be a year older. Like that I don’t actually age all year. It suddenly, magically, mysteriously happens one day of every year. That day happens to be Mischief Night. You know, the day before Halloween?

Every other day during the year I can somehow maintain my youth- never growing older, never gaining weight, or circles under my eyes, or crow’s feet. Never. I don’t age. Then every year on October 29^th I go to bed and when I awake something happens. Suddenly an entire years worth of ageing has been shoved into one night.

I have bags under my eyes, I have fine lines and wrinkles, I gained 19 lbs, my skinny pants disappeared from my closet. Oh, wait, I never actually owned any skinny pants- my butt is WAY too big to be seen in those! Whoooooo! Scary just to think about. “Like two pigs wrestling under a blanket!” Name that movie! Perhaps I should get some for my Halloween costume this year…

Anywho.  My day of aging is rapidly approaching. There is nothing I can do to hold it at bay. Except for perhaps buying $2,345.93 worth of Arbonne products from Momma Brown.  Arbonne is gonna take over the world, just so you know. And you know what- I can even get a friends and family discount so that my $2,345.93 will cover the face wash, eye liner (in black pencil- I still haven’t mastered the liquid); AND the thermal heat mask face scrubbing stuff! Sweet! She might even throw in a few free samples of good smelling lotions just to sweeten the deal.

Well, once again this year Charley is off the hook as far as b-day presents. I tell you what. Guys in the Army have it pretty sweet. “Babe, I couldn’t get you an anniversary present this year. We were hit by an IED on the way to *(insert name of some small Iraq village here)*. Happens every other year.

 And what can you say to that? “Yes Dear, I understand you were taking heavy fire but if you really loved me you would have made sure you sent the Hadji version of all 502 Disney Movies for my birthday this year!” Yeah, Army guys have it pretty sweet.

So once again I am going to pretend that my day isn’t coming. I have made another Mom Law. If my hubby isn’t here then I don’t age. No Charley, no birthday. This way he doesn’t have to put himself out there to try and buy me some super sweet present and I don’t have to get any older! At least every other year that is…

Pygmy Marmoset

My littlest punk asked me today if she can have a Pygmy Marmoset. I replied, “What the heck is a Pygmy Marmoset?” because really, coming from a three year old the words Pygmy Marmoset do not actually sound like they should. Its hard enough to decipher words like peanut butter and library. Pygmy Marmoset is taking things to the extreme. And where the heck did she even learn about Pygmy Marmosets?

I will tell you where…. Diego.  As in Go, Diego, Go. As in a cartoon. My kid learned more from a dang cartoon than from all the books I have been reading to her. None of them contain any information about a Pygmy Marmoset. No wonder I am clueless. I will not be topped by a cartoon!!! So hang on while I tell you exactly what a Pygmy Marmoset is…

This is a baby Pygmy Marmoset. I just want to snuggle him!

The Pygmy Marmoset is the world's smallest monkey, head and body length varies from 117-152 mm and its tail length varies from 172-229 mm, or about 13 inches on average. The adult weight is only 85-140 grams or approximately four ounces on average!

The Pygmy Marmoset is one of the cutest primates on this planet, they are no bigger than a soda can.  The Pygmy Marmoset usually has a tawny coat, and a ringed tail that is as long as its body.

Pygmy Marmosets usually have a lifespan of about 6-9 years in captitivity, although a lifespan of 15 years has been recored before. Not much is known about native lifespan of Pygmy Marmosets.

Oh. My. Aching. It Hurts. Must have...

And I will confess something to you. I am getting really good at disclosure on this site. Because my hubby is in the Army we spend lots of time apart. He goes to “the field” for weeks on end or deploys or sent to different schools- whatever the reason, he is gone a lot. And every time he is gone I start thinking that I need another animal. Or a baby. But mostly another animal.

At one point I had three dogs, fish, and three lizards. And I was pregnant. Yeah, he was gone for a year. It did me in, I couldn’t help myself.

Well, I haven’t seen him since May. Its been a long time since May. I have started thinking again. Thinking it might be time for another animal. Not another baby. Animal.

And my youngest punk has given me an idea. I need a baby Pygmy Marmoset. I need one. My arms ache to hold it, and squeeze it, and call him George.

Now I just need to break the news to Charley…

Surprise

I have a secret to tell. But if I tell you then you can't tell anyone. Like ever. Or at least till I am finished with the project. At that point you are expected to tell everyone you know, twice.

Are you ready?


Now?


Come on already......


Okay, here is the deal. I am going to write a children's book. A book that will hopefully inspire younger and older kids alike.

More specifically, a three year old punk and a nine year old punk. But I might need to change that to a four year old punk and a ten year old punk cause I really don't know how long it is going to take me.

Curious? Well, I can tell you it will have a character named Helen Hopper, the Green Eyed Tree Frog. And this guy:




And the super great part of it all is that John is going to do the photography. He is great. He photographed our trip to the Brookfield Zoo back in May. Check out his other stuff here.

As for the rest of the project... Well, I might keep a tight lid on it until I get farther on.... Lots of changes are in the future and I don't want to make any promises I can't keep. Or get your hopes up and then not deliver.

 But this bird friend? He is in like Flyn.

Linking

And here we go dear Reader. I am linking Enjoy the Ride with my new blackberry. We will be connected like never before! That is, of course, if I can get the silly thing to work. Like Regis and Kelly I am a Tech-NO! As in technology and disagree on who is in charge around here. Just give me Time- I will get this pesky phone to do what its told!
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Quotes That Sum Up My Week

The internet has finally been restored!!! Man, 24 hours of no FarmVille and I thought I would lose it! So, if you aren't aware, I have been sick for exactly 8 days and its still going. My oldest punk has also contracted the badness, and so had Beccum. Welcome to the house of hacking cough, fevers, and lots of snot. We all had Doctor appointments on Monday, here is one excerpt from my visit:

Me: I have this really bad cough, and it keeps me up all night. Not to mention the chills and hot sweats from all the fevers I have had this week....

Doctor: Yes, well, enough about you having Swine Flu; lets talk about your double ear infections.

Me: Huh? I'm sorry, my double ear infections have obviously messed with my hearing. Did you just say..... gulp......

Doctor: Yep, you and your son. But I can treat him with Tamiflu, you on the other hand have missed the window of opportunity- instead you are getting a shot in the bottom.

Me: I'm sorry, I really must be hearing things, I thought you just said ....swine flu, and shots in my bottom....gulp...cough.....cough.... flem..... cough.....shot.....

Doctor: Mam, could you please bend over and drop your trousers?

Me: cough.....gulp.....really??....ummm.....cough..... Punk, can you please leave the room? This is gonna get ugly..... cough......

I didn't know what was worse: Swine Flu, Ear infections, or "Mam, can you please drop your trousers?" Does it get any better?

Well, today it did. Get better, that is. The internet repair man came to visit. And guess what! He kept calling me "Shug" as in short for "Sugar" like only guys with a really heavy southern accent can get away with using! Cause lets face it, if my hubby called me Shug it would be a little weird. I'm just sayin.

Army Wives, Well-Wishers, and Red Necks, Post 3

Here is the conclusion to Post 1 and Post 2. Enjoy!

Then there are the Red Necks. Oh how I struggle to hold back the tide of red neck jokes that pour into my e-mail box almost daily. A year ago I wouldn't have even thought to add Red Necks to my list as I didn't know any personally. When we bought our house I was surprised to find that I was now surrounded by them. From a glance they look like everyday working class people, it isn't until you engage in conversation that the Red Neck comes out. The hard to understand broken southern drawl, the lingo that is exclusive to this group is fascinating to behold. I will still scratch my head trying to figure out what the neighbor lady just said, and I have lived here for just over a year now.

There is something appealing about the Red Neck. They have four-wheelers, off-road rigs, dirt bikes, and lots and lots of cold beer. "Get 'er done" seems to be their motto. They are constantly on the go- takin' care of business. Their lawns are mowed at least twice a week, and the cleanliness level in their homes puts me to shame. They are truly the unsung heroes in my neighborhood. When they see me outside pushing the mower with one hand and holding the baby in the other they come running. When my car breaks they just so happen to have all the parts they need to fix it sitting in their garage. When I am trying to carry the 50 pound bag of dog food into the garage they are there to give me a hand.

They are uncomplicated. They expect nothing in return. They even give me veggies that were home grown in their backyard garden. They wait till I am not at home to mow my yard. They are great people and I love them for it. They assess my situation in their own way- "Haven't seen the old man in a while, he gone again?" A simple yes from me is all it takes for them to step up to the plate. They don't ask what I need; they just look around and find stuff to take care of. I don't know what I would do without them. They- the Red Necks-  are my heroes.

Amen.

Army Wives, Well-Wishers, and Red Necks, Post 2

Continued From Yesterday...

The Well-Wishers are almost as hard to deal with as the not so regulars. Well-Wishers are select groups of individuals who, in the course of conversation find out that your spouse is deployed, suddenly look at you differently. Looking down their nose, false (okay, maybe not all false) sense of sympathy pouring from their eyes, thanking you for sacrificing your life with your husband. Letting him go off to a war we can't win- how awful for me it must be. It will be so much better to get Bush out of office so we can bring the troops home- then every thing will be magically better again.

My favorite comment is "I really do support the troops, but I don't support the war." Guess what Well-Wisher; by withdrawing support for the war you are sentencing my life to even harder realities. I now know that my husbands unit doesn't have the funds to provide even simple items, like a flash light or a scope for his rifle. Thanks so much for wishing me well, meanwhile stabbing him in the back. Go ahead a feel really good about your self for supporting the troops. Meanwhile I will sit here not knowing if my husband will be one of the lucky ones to receive armor for his truck. I know you feel horrible about the troop surge, heaven forbid they get more guys over there to secure the area. Your right, instead of putting more feet on the ground we should pull them all out and have the war follow us home.

9-11 was a wake up call for the entire nation; I might even go so far as to say the entire world. Describing that horrific day as a terrorist attack has only made things worse. You see Well-Wisher that day was not a terrorist attack- It was an act of war. Hundreds lost their lives that day, survivors are now dealing with residual health problems. Terrorism? Perhaps in the sense that it defiantly scared the pants off of us, but the truth is war was declared that day. We didn't start it, and now you don't want us to finish it. You ask if there is something that you can do to help me. Well yes, there is. You can stop pretending. You can open your eyes to the remarkable achievements that have been made, the acts of bravery taking place everyday, the hope that we can bring into a harsh existence. You can get involved in finding a solution that will benefit us all instead of standing on your soap box pretending to care.

Come on Back for Red Necks; day 3 of this post.