Sunday, July 23, 2006


Tagged by Christina

Five things in my purse wallet
1. lip gloss
2. money
3. pictures of my family
4. ibuprofen
5. chuck e cheese tickets

Five things in my refrigerator
1. milk (my boys drink gallons and gallons of organic whole milk!)
2. apples - boys' favorite fruit
3. grapes - same reason
4. string cheese
5. tequila

Five things in my closet
1.piles of shoes on the floor
2. boxes of heels I can't walk in but can't resist buying
3. Terry's old uniforms
4. a mirror
5. clothes - duh!

Five things in my car
2. Wet wipes
3. About ten maps
4. napkins
5. CD's

I tag...Melanie, Suburban Joe, Julie Anna, Sweatpants mom

Thursday, July 20, 2006

This is MY bubble

This is probably a mistake given I just had a drive by blogging yesterday, but I can't resist opening up my blog for comment on the Bush massaging/groping/rubbing German Chancellor Angela Merkel. If you haven't seen it on YouTube, all you're missing is 4 seconds of Bush awkwardly grabbing her shoulders i.e. the "massage" followed by her instantly tensing up her shoulders and looking like she's about to do the chicken dance.

People are making a huge deal out of it, but I just think it's hilarious...I mean you'd think he grabbed her butt and called her an old brod or something. Tacky? Yes. Sexual harassment? No.

Bush kissed one of the other wives at the Tball event we went to and gave me a nice side hug. It's a wonder he hasn't been sick half his presidency with all the "groping" his doing. He must be washing his hands a lot...:)

This is timely "news" since today at my "support group" (I hate that term) for deployed soldiers' wives, we learned about Iraqi culture and customs. One of the funny topics was personal space. The men kiss, hug, hold hands, etc. and will stand thisclose to you in person. I've laughed at Terry when he's on the phone with me and starts yelling at them to get away from him. It's like he's shooing a dog away or something. (I'm sure that will piss someone off. hehehe)
But I couldn't stop thinking about this woman in that very class who not five minutes before would take a step towards me every time I tried to back away from her stank cigarette breath. BLECH. (No offense to smokers, it just smells much worse when it's mixed with the remnants of your last meal.) I backed up into a couch and she didn't notice that I was leaning over the arm like a terrified limbo contestant.

How about you? Any invasions of your personal space or offensive action on your part?

p.s. I apologize for the Britney Spears overuse of quotes.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Job hunting requires actual weapons

Today, I spent 10 minutes looking for parking in a packed metro lot and resorted to stalking a woman to the point of offering her a ride to her car just to get her spot, opened my car door to a blast of air so hot it can only be described as the breath of Satan after a bag of Spicy Nacho Doritos, and thought, "If I turn back now, I can still catch the 1:30 of You, Me and Dupree before the boys need to be picked up." That was my mental state as I dragged my butt to a job fair downtown.

Today, I nearly went on a killing spree on the train. First there was the metro driver who was clearly testing the government's committment to never fire anyone. To add to this vomit inducing brake-gas-brake-gas ride two young women walk on hollering their conversation to the other five riders in our car. You know the type I'm talking about. They usually sit behind you in the movies and both talk on their cell phones the entire time. The cherry on top of this ice cream sunday ride into the city was a young man who announced his presence on the train - with drumsticks. He beat, rat-a-tat-tat on the doorway coming in. He tappity-tap, tappity-tapped his way to his seat before playing a full set on the window until the next stop. I turn my head and talk to my wrist, "Sniper, fire at will." (Actually I decided it would reflect badly on America in general if I did not survive a downtown train ride wearing heels and an Ann Taylor suit, while my camo-clad husband and his M-16 makes it safely back from war.)

Today, I met a man at the job fair. He's good looking and I'm already thinking about how to let him down easy. I learn his life story. He moved here for his wife whose family lives here and thought it would be better for their two boys (ages 2 and 6), and then she promptly divorced him. He asks why I moved here. I say because of my husband's job - and watch his reaction. Steady face, good, good, responds with an appropriate question to hide the dissapointment. Two incredibly beautiful women walk up to us. Both know him. Wow, this man has got GAME! And apparently his wife wasn't playin'.

Today, I saw a man actually reading the Art of War.

Today, I realized my apathy towards getting a job has crystallized.

21 Days until Terry is home and I will reconsider getting a job outside the home

Thursday, July 13, 2006

My name is Monique and I am a HGTV crackhead

I started a 12 step program. I mean I formed it, and then became its first member. It's new, but I think there are millions suffering from my addiction - I Burn Through Home Projects Like Chocolate Covered Crack (Deep Fried.)

It started with a simple desire to have the home ready for Terry. Call it nesting. But replacing the lamp shade led to painting the side table, which led to realizing the matching lamp was still in the box (since Jan) which meant I needed to get another side table, which meant I had to move the plant, etc. etc., to the point that I no longer eat and I'm up till 2am doing the laundry that should have been done during the day when I was dragging my children to every home and garden store within a 20 mile radius twice a week (after swimming lessons of course.) Exhaustion and starvation forced me to look at my list and ask myself, "If I were a man leaving a year of 130 degree heat, doing his business in a bag, dodging snipers and IEDs, would I care if that particular lamp shade were 12 inches or 11 at the base?" Probably not.

But just to be absolutely sure, I asked him what his expectations were. This was his answer, "I want to not be constantly on edge for fear of my life. I want to eat steak and ice cream and drink a beer. I want to lots of sex. I want to sleep for 13 hours. I want to not be sweating my balls off."
And with that kind of eloquence he won my heart. Anyhoo...

To wean myself off the HG Crack, I made one last trip to IKEA to find an end table for that lamp. And while I swore to only buy a cheap end table that would be nicely hidden by the couch's extended, sloping arm, I ended up at the cashier with that, four seat cushions, four placemats, and a kiddie bench with room for baskets underneath. I put the cushions and placemats back. Progress!

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

A dearth of One interesting blog topics

Correction - This is worth mentioning Basic trainees carry legacy of Vietnam vets

I have nothing interesting to write about. Here are my options and none of them are appealing enough to spend brainpower on, tell me what you think:

  • My broken vaccum cleaner and the anguish I go through in deciding whether to repair or replace.
  • How tired I am of driving everyday to Gabe's swimming lessons, but how happy I am to see him enjoy and challenge himself.
  • My perpetually filthy house and why I will have to hire help when we get a bigger place.
  • The 10 mile run that have not been training for and must either start training for, give my spot to someone else, or eat $50.
  • The diet I am (sort of) following and how after doing it for a couple of days my body rejected my favorite indulgence - nachos - and now my brain says no and my body says yes to more of, something like that.

See, nothing exactly compelling...sigh. You know what that means? Pictures

This isn't Terry ( I don't think, that's not his wedding band), but it's a cool picture I found on my harddrive.

The day he left for war. If we knew what the next 15 months would hold, we would not have been smiling...strange to look back at what you thought you would think, do, feel during a deployment when you'd never been through one before. "It's only a year and a half. 15 is a small number, more than a dozen, less than 20. We'll just watch a lot of movies. He'll sit on a base and train Iraqis from the comfort of an air conditioned room. He won't have to travel. He'll be one of those guys on the news swimming in one of Saddams old pools." Right. But you know what? We're 27 days from over and his body and mind is pretty much whole. That's something to be glad for.

Back in the days of tank commanding. I think he wishes he would have remained in that branch...

One of my absolute favorites of me and Gabe when he was about 2 (self portrait)
And my fav of Ash...

Sunday, July 09, 2006

Nothing goin' on here

Not much is going on here. Just housecleaning, decorating and checking tasks off the to do list that's been building for about 400 days.

30 Days till Terry gets home

Monday, July 03, 2006

July 4 2005

When I was thinking about what to write for the 4th of July, I realized that Terry was home on leave from training that weekend. We celebrated Gabe's birthday early, went to an amusement park and stayed inside for the fireworks. Actually that was our last night. He had to leave the next morning and we knew we wouldn't see each other until he was home on leave from Iraq. It was very emotional, but not as much as when he left back to Iraq seven months later.

So here we are full circle. Compare photos of the boys from then to now.

Ash Then (mohawk afro)

Ash Now (total 'fro and rooting for England)

Gabe then (somewhat toothless)

Gabe now (still somewhat toothless!)

And me? Well I look fabulously the same of course

July 2005

July 2006