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March 21st, 2011 | Author:
Not My Dad's Horse

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Who has it?  These past couple of months, not I.

2011 started off with a whirlwind and it hasn’t stopped since.  I went to Scottsdale and came home.  February was pretty uneventful other than DaHubby was gone for the whole month.  March, he came home, and we relaxed – for a minute.

Then, I got the call.  My paternal grandmother was ill and not expected to make it.  Within 48 hours, she was gone, and we were on our way to FL.

Driving on Thursday, funeral on Friday, a 2 hour horseback ride on Saturday followed by Saturday night dinner with the maternal family, and back on the road on Sunday.  Thursday and Sunday – 8 hours driving time each day.  It’s a rough trip to do in four days but of course we had to go.

The service was upbeat, per my grandmother’s request, lots of singing and happy stories.  No preaching about fire and brimstone.  And afterwards – the food.  Good, southern cooking.  Blew my points to hell, but so worth it.

Saturday morning (early, not my preference, but I think my dad really needed it), my dad and I, just the two of us, took the horses out for a ride on the local water management property.   I hadn’t been on a horse in a really long time, so I got the placid, “I fall asleep even when I’m walking”, horse.  My dad took his palomino.  Next time, I am totally taking the palomino.  LOL.  Anyway, we stayed out for a couple of hours, just talking and riding.  Best quote from the day:  “You know, that might have been a bear.  Do you want to go back and look?”  No, thanks, Dad – I’ll pass, but thanks for asking.  It took me a few minutes, but I did giggle.

After that, we packed up and headed to my mom’s house.  We got there and half an hour later, DaHubby was like “come on, let’s go to town to the gun store.”  I knew this day was coming but I was hoping that it wouldn’t happen so soon.  Two hours later…. we are standing in Daddy’s Gun Shop (yes, that’s really the name) and I am signing the sales slip to buy him some new rifle.

Yes, I bought him a rifle.  I didn’t even make him promise I could buy a new purse.  Really, I’d have bought him an AK-47 and 200 rounds of ammo if it meant I’d be able to get out of there.  Seriously?  I am bringing that up next time we are shoe shopping and he is like “Just pick a pair, already!”

But we finally got out of there and went to a great seafood place for dinner.  Early Sunday we were on our way home.

Until we found the Le Creuset factory store.  An outlet store filled with this wonderful cookware!  And a 50% room!  Whee!

A dutch oven and 11″ skillet later, we were on our way to Columbia and the PX at Fort Jackson.  Nothing exciting there, I don’t even know why I mentioned it.  But I did, and it sat on the screen while I retrieved my pizza from the delivery man, ate the pizza, and ate the cheesecake, too.  Uh, yeah.   Points-busters. I’ve been full of them today.  Not sure why, but tomorrow is a whole new day, right?  Probably because I cooked 2 healthy, low-fat meals for CK today and had no energy left to cook for us.  (She had back surgery a couple of weeks ago and is still not up to standing for long periods of time, and her husband can’t cook.  Bad combination.)  Oh, anyway, so the mention of Fort Jackson?  I figure it’s earned its keep.

I was home for a week and then had to go to Charleston, WV for work.  Since I don’t blog about work, I’ll just say it was a trip, and now I’m home.  Expect more of those sentences in the near future ….. unless I hit a really good restaurant when I’m out of town for work, and then I will totally talk about that.

So as an aside, I just totally changed the title of this blog post.  Why?  Because I asked TheKidlet to make me a glass of the Diet Pepsi that came with the pizza.  She said, “Why do you always get a Pepsi… Diet Pepsi…. when we get pizza?”  Really?  Kid, I’ve gotten soda with my pizza a whopping total of two times since we’ve lived in this house.  Two.  I gave her this information and said, “Sometimes, I just want a soda.”‘

This totally turned into a random post full of …. nothing in particular.  And I’m not even halfway through March!

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August 20th, 2010 | Author:

But you know, I am a mommy.

You saw it coming, didn’t you?

Yes, well.  OK.

We’ve had a TON of thunderstorms the past few days, and one a few nights ago was particularly bad.  It was loud, and flashy, and stayed on top of us for what seemed forever.

I woke up around 2AM to TheKidlet crawling into bed with us.  At that time I noticed that Henry was trying really hard to snuggle as close as possible to me as he could.  Under the covers.  Cause those are PROTECTION!!!

I doze back off to sleep, only to hear..

TheKidlet:  “Daddy, I’m scared.
DaHubby:  *snore*
(wait 2 minutes, insert symphony of thunder and lightning)
TheKidlet:  “Daddy, I’m scared.”
DaHubby:  *snore*

Finally I roll over and rub her back and she turns and snuggles into me.  A few minutes later, as she dozes off, she readjusts – but not before grabbing my hand to hold onto.

Take THAT, favorite parent!

The next morning, she comes out of the shower and crawls back onto our bed.  She gives me a big hug and snuggles in for a few minutes.  While she’s there, she whispers, “Thank you, Mommy, for holding my hand last night.  It made me feel so safe.  I hope you’ll always hold my hand when I’m scared.

I promised her I would always do my best to make her feel safe.

I got a kiss and she bounded off, because there were cartoons waiting to be watched .

DaHubby asked what the whispering was about.  I said “She told me I was her favorite but not to tell you cause she didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

And I smiled, thinking about a little hand in mine.

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April 23rd, 2010 | Author:

I’ve written before about the friends that I’ve made here – and it seems like every time I turn around I have another story that exemplifies that wonderful group that we’ve found ourselves a part of.

Another case in point:  two days before TheKidlet’s birthday party, DaHubby and I realized that, because of various reasons, she had TWO kids (out of six invitees) say yes, they were coming.   This, after having to cancel the original date because she had the stomach flu.

We had opted for a party at Michael’s craft store and I was saddened for her that there would just be the three of them.  AND…. three 9 year olds?  An odd number of girls is a Recipe for Disaster.  I talked to my bestie, CK, about it and she simply said “You know what to do.  Activate the phone tree.”

I texted GH, CC, and JO – and within four minutes, LITERALLY, she had five additional children coming to her party.  They had a ball, TheKidlet was thrilled, and I called birthday party number nine a success.  Consider me moved to tears repeatedly by these women.

As an aside, I highly recommend Michael’s for parties.  Not expensive, they do everything, and it’s all over in three hours.

After the party, it was Game Night at GH’s house.  There were new people there, out of town guests.  Our kids …. all upstairs playing, the new kid decided to either hit or kick each child present at least once.  The five year old was hit in the face with a shoe.

Our kids?  Locked him in the bathroom.  Now, of course I don’t condone vigilantism in any form, and they have all been reminded that getting an adult is the proper course of action …. but really, when the kids aren’t around, there are high-fives among the adults for the fact that our kids all worked together to take care of a problem.  And warm fuzzies that we know our kids all have each others’ backs.

And lastly, a rant:  we get together for breakfast on Fridays when we can.  We have a favorite restaurant, a favorite waitress, we each have our favorite meals.   This morning, we met for breakfast:  CK, GH, KSC, and myself.  A rare treat these days with my new work schedules, but we made it happen.  Talk this morning was tame, comparatively speaking.  We noticed early on that there were kids behind us and that probably tempered our conversation, however subconsciously.

GH has health problems, medical issues that are treated by a top team of doctors and that require medication.  She discussed the medications briefly at breakfast.  We walked outside when we were done, and there was a note on GH’s car.  This note basically said that her health issues are a result of the things that she says.  And then referred her to a church’s website.  WTF?!?  Who says something like that – something so judgmental and yet so cowardly?  I mean if you’re gonna sit in judgment, do it openly; don’t leave an anonymous note.   I sincerely hope that the entire congregation of this church isn’t as moronic as this person, or there’s a group of people who are cranky from trying to live up to an unattainable ideal of perfection.  Sigh.  This is why I don’t belong to a church and have a dislike of organized religion.

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November 01st, 2009 | Author:

This weekend has been one of complaints.

Mine, hers, his.

Complaints everywhere.

I started thinking about this today, and I had this really weird realization.  That I also had a friend who I had been thinking about all weekend.  I suspect this was my subconscious way of trying to put my own stuff into perspective.

My complaints consist of TheKidlet acting like a brat, mostly cause she doesn’t feel well.   The cleaning lady didn’t vacuum under the end tables.  Some very personal complaints about myself.  Her complaints consist of anger over the fact that we forced her to go trick or treating.  (The nerve, right?)  And that she has to do everything around here.  (Note my second complaint, yes?)  His complaints mimic mine, plus complaints about the dog not getting enough exercise.

Even writing these out, I’m having a hard time seeing why anyone was worked up this weekend, why there were moments of absolute frustration.  But there were, as petty as it seems.

As I said, in the midst of all of this, I wondered how my friend was doing.  I hoped that he is faring well, and I hoped that his wife and new baby were amazing and glowing and happy, and that his two older children were still awe-struck and in love with their new baby sister.

Tonight it hit me, like a ton of bricks.  My friend is incredibly blessed, and when you can get him to be serious for a moment, he will tell you that he is blessed and feels lucky and he has his faith in G-d and overall, he is happy.

And yet, out of the people that I know personally, my friend has reason to complain.  Not a current event, but he has a story.  Yeah, we all have stories, but he has a STORY.  One of a type that most of us never think about, and when we do we widen our eyes in horror and maybe shed a tear for the story-teller.  We might ask a few details but overall, we don’t want to know that these stories are out there, perhaps affecting those that we know.  I think most of us want to believe that these things don’t happen in the world that we live in.

I won’t tell his story here; it’s not mine to tell.  It’s his story, should he choose to tell it.  And his story is not really the point.  My point is that I am spoiled, we are spoiled.  We complain about mundane things, we complain about the trivial.  When in reality, we should be thankful, and consider ourselves blessed.  Because we do have a nice roof over our heads, and we eat very well, and we have time and money to play, and we have the cleaning lady who forgets to vacuum under end tables.  I should not be amazed at my friend’s unwavering faith, I should be thankful that we live somewhere that he is allowed to express it freely.

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September 26th, 2009 | Author:

I got my notice from BlogHerAds that I haven’t posted in two weeks. It didn’t seem possible, but …. yeah. I’m in a …. rut, a funk, a …. something. Pretty introspective. I’ve started a thousand blog posts in my head, even had one that I just knew would ROCK, and if you can figure out what the subject was, let me know. I’ve clean forgotten. It was profound…. I wish I could remember.

I usually get this way when there’s a big change coming and I need to internally adjust before it comes, but I can’t fathom what it is that might be coming …. nothing planned, that’s for sure, and if it’s not planned then I don’t know about it, how can I be adjusting? It’s kind of bizarre.

TheKidlet is in school, doing well, making friends. She’s also back in soccer. DaHubby is working, and in school. I am working, busier than ever, and in school. The freakin’ DOG is in school. The cats are the only beings in the house who aren’t in school.

Excuses and whining. I tell TheKidlet not to do that, so I am going to stop.


TheKidlet and a friend are playing Rock Band. Singing “Eye of the Tiger”. AGAIN. I HATE THAT FREAKIN SONG. Umm but TheKidlet is playing both guitar AND singing. And doing pretty well at it. Wow.

Girl she’s playing with has NO RHYTHM at all.  None.


When I moved to Charlotte, I knew one person – someone I’d met twice IRL, but had known through pregnancy and childbirth and the first years of TheKidlets life online.  Before we even got here, C was generous enough to help scope out rental houses for me even when it meant totally re-arranging her day to make it happen.  Once we got here, we settled into a routine and she even introduced me to all of her friends.

Those friends – the ones I can now call my own as well – made the transition from military to civilian, from ME to NC, from having a group of friends to knowing almost no one easier than I could have possibly imagined and last week was a shining example of this.  One of our friends, K, had a really bad day.  You know the type, the type where you just sit down and cry because nothing else is possible.

I get off work at 1 PM on Fridays, it’s just a rockin’ way to end the week.  At quitting time, I got a call from C letting me know that K had a bad day and needed some girl-bonding time and we should come over after dinner for game night.  I countered with “I’m off work.  Grab J and the kids and come on over and we’ll drink up and order pizza later, and then play games when the boys get here.”  Enthusiasm ensued on both C and K’s part, and soon we had a girl-bonding party over wine at 3 in the afternoon.  There’s nothin’ better.

Except for knowing that you are part of a group of friends that is awesome enough to make a call, say one of us is having a bad day, and within an hour have a houseful of women, kids, and booze.  The night went on into the wee hours but there was no repeat of Labor Day (at least for me!! LOL!) and even the boys had a good time.

More later, peeps.  I promise to pull myself up out of this rut and post more again.

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