Yesterday's Big Events

Here's a shot of the beautiful bride and her equally beautiful new Mother-in-Law; my best friend Trish.  The two of them together makes me think there is some truth to the old adage...that we unknowingly look for mates that remind us of our mother/father.  I don't think the groom was too far off his mark!

The lovely outdoor wedding, held at a nearby lake, went off without a hitch except for the fierce winds that eventually blew off the bride's billowy veil before the vows were completed. 

Oh, and there was that minor distraction when the whole bunch gathered at the edge of the lake to take the obligatory family photos.  Just about the time the photographer said "Say cheese!" a couple of the native ducks decided to noisily engage in that "Birds and the Bees" stuff right behind them.  It made for lots of natural smiles and somehow it just seemed fitting. 

In Trish's younger, thinner days, she used to model, so I think she can get away with wearing a hat like that.  She said she paid $89.00 for that hat ::gasp:: and I figure she better find a few more big social events to wear it to, so she'll get her money's (or is it monies)worth.  I may even have to borrow it.

After the wedding, I gussied up my face a little more with some "dramatic" eyeshadow, since they say you can do that in the evening and we headed down the mountain to take in the bands.  Arriving fashionably late...at 8:15...we walked in with the festivities underway and the music rattling the walls. 

While paying our $5.00 cover charge, the bouncer carded Tam and at 32 years of age, she was overjoyed.  I wanted to tell the young man that we were sisters, but thought better of it, not wanting to steal Tam's thunder.  After all, I was looking pretty hot.  ::tongue in cheek::    

We worked the crowd for a bit, hugging and high-fiving my co-workers until we found a suitable view of the stage.  And, OMG, the band..."Fatt Katt" and the something or others were good, damn good. 

They really need to be doing that for a living instead of working for the State with me.   They played Rockabilly type music with videos projected on big screens in the background and it all looked so professional that I couldn't believe I only paid 5 bucks for the show.  Geez....what a bargain! 

I sent Tam to the bar to get me a "Sissy" drink because I am just not used to the bar scene.  She came back with a Pina Colada for me and a bottled beer for herself.  I am sure that the bar tender knew that drink was for her mother because there wasn't a noticable drop of alcohol present in that glass, even when I got all through with it.  

And by that time I was uptight enough that I really needed something to calm me down if I was going to manage to stay for any length of time.   So, she headed back to the bar and got me a Margarita, which did the trick.  I loosened up and I even managed to dance a little.  

Then it was time for the next band, comprised of three of my co-workers. Another awesome experience for the same 5 bucks.  They are just soooo good.  The lead singer has got that whole "Rock Star" look and stage presence goin' on and Tam commented that she thought he was soooo "sexy!"  Just wait until I tell him tomorrow in our morning meeting! 

Anyway, I stayed for the entire show, which was just so interesting to watch and see my co-workers in a whole different light.  But, I had to draw the line when one guy from the band, who just happens to work FOR me, walked up to me with his shirt totally unbuttoned and his hairy chest exposed.  I said....."Button your shirt!  Quick, button your shirt!  For GAWD's sake!  I am YOUR boss!"   

My virgin eyes.    

 

 

Steppin' Out

Oh yeah....this green-eyed Okie gril (as my little brother used to pronounce girl) is ready for a big day and night.  I am getting all "painted up and powdered" for today's special events. 

I even bought new makeup! 

Geez...can you tell it's been awhile since I've been out?

This afternoon I will attend the wedding of  Trish's son, which should be beautiful and full of photo ops.  Then tonight, Tam and I are heading down the mountain to a bar ::gasp:: to enjoy the music of two bands comprised of some of my illustrious co-workers.

I am a cheap date.  One drink and I am ready to go home, but I will try to stay up past my bed time tonight and have a good time among drunk adults.  

If anything, it will make for good journal fodder.     

Attached Advertising

In the past few days, my computer has been taken over by a variety of adware, spyware, malware, and tracking systems which are about to put me over the edge. 

It seems as though my journal entries have taken on a life of their own with links to various places highlighted MY words that I did NOT link.  Of special concern are the links to words such as toys.  I am not interested in getting a TOS violation.  So, it's off to Editor Joe to report the problem while I continue to work on eradicating this awful junk. 

Let's see what happens! 

 

(oh my gosh, now it's not doing it!  maybe it knows I am going to tell!)

Count Me In!

I just participated in this weblog survey as suggested by Patrick.  Pretty interesting stuff for those of us with blogs.  Click on the banner if you'd like to participate in this MIT survey. 

Judith Heartsong Entry

If my hot silver tears created a shimmering path to a pure, brilliant white cloak of safety, I’d let them sweep away the molten black cries of your sorrowful heart; which causes you to spill crimson red in an effort to ease your desperate blues.

 

Read all of the entries in Judith's contest here: http://journals.aol.com/judithheartsong/newbeginning/entries/1469

Happy Father's Day Papa

This morning as I lay in bed savoring the last few minutes of total relaxation before hitting the floor to start my busy day, I wondered what I could write about today to honor my father’s memory, on this first Father’s Day since his death. I searched my memories for the perfect “Dad” story, hoping something would surface that incorporated his humor, compassion and love for his children. But, there are too many. How’s that for a legacy?

While I would say that I found my father to be an outstanding dad and a nearly perfect man, he would honestly share that in his younger days he was anything but that nonsensical description.

Following in his father’s footsteps and certainly somewhat cursed by his Native American roots, he struggled with alcoholism. Who knows if the alcohol was at least partially instrumental in his fight and eventual survival of several life-threatening diseases, including Tuberculosis and Renal Cancer, all those years ago.

If he hadn’t survived those devastating diseases, this story would be much different. A truly sad story, where I would tell you that I searched long and hard for the father that I never knew, only to find that he had died, way too young. Fortunately for me, there’s a different ending and I was blessed to have my father in my adult life for 25 years.

Yes, I found my father when I was about 25 years old.

My teenage parents met in the 1950s at a Clock Drive-In, a’la “Happy Days” restaurant where Mom was hanging out with her girlfriends and my dad was trying to make a meager living. To hear Papa tell it, I was conceived in the back seat of a 1947 Ford. For a variety of reasons, the teenage lovers couldn’t make it work. I would become the oldest of 6 children, living a pretty shabby life while longing for my “real” father to rescue me from a hell called “childhood.”

I didn’t happen and rightfully so. As he would candidly admit, he was in no shape to be a father during that time, since he wasn’t even able to take care of himself. After hearing his stories, I had to agree.

Instead, I had the unique opportunity to get to know my father at a whole different time in his life, as a sober, healthy, young loving father, with two small boys at home that he cherished. By then, he had fathered 5 living children. He said the Creator was giving him the opportunity to“eventually get it right!” and make up for the indiscretions of his youth.

He loved being a father to his lively boys. In the mid 1980s he would become one of the first divorced fathers in his area to fight for and win “joint physical custody” of the kids. The boys lived half their time with their mother, and half the time with Papa; with two sets of clothes and toys. It was a new concept back then, but it worked.

It was amazing to watch and he earned my heartfelt admiration as he took on the challenges of parenting and working full-time, while also assisting me with my little ones. We had big family meals together and we would exchange childcare duties as needed. I was blessed to have the support of my father as I also faced the challenges of being a single parent and working in a challenging field.

The Creator blessed Papa with more parenting opportunities, figuring he still had a way to go in the lessons of Fatherhood. In early 1992, Papa and I obtained custody of Abigail, (his granddaughter/my niece) who was just 3 months old. He and I eventually adopted her together, surely confusing genealogists for years to come. She remained the “apple of his eye” until his last moments on earth.

Then came Bubba, Ab’s 8 year old brother, a personable, precocious kid that we welcomed into the family and eventually adopted. “Heck, what’s one more?” Papa said at 60 years of age, when most men would have rather enjoyed their retirement years. Papa and Bubba developed a strong bond. Bubba finally had the unconditional love and understanding, and a permanent home that he’d lacked for so many years.

So, that’s what kind of man my father was. A true hero in my book.  I had the very good fortune of getting to know him at the time when he was fully interested and capable of being a good father.

Really, I wouldn’t have changed a thing.

Happy Father’s Day Papa!   Soar with the Red Tail Hawks!

Summertime Blues, Part II

This kid has way too much unstructured time on her hands.  I hate Summertime for that reason.  Year-round school would probably be the answer, but this town has been there and done that.  I was devastated when "they" decided to return to the traditional school calendar a few years back.

Last night she and a few little girlfriends got all "painted and powdered up" (one of my favorite sayings from my Okie Aunt Mary) and headed for the movies to see Mr.and Mrs. Smith. After what I went through with Bubba during his teenage years, Ab's propensity for depression and for having a real difficult time telling the truth, I have some serious concern and trust issues going on here. 

I feel a healthy dose of paranoia can't hurt, so I give her the expectation speech and threaten her with her life and again advise her of the fact that this mama is crazy enough to snatch her outta a crowd if she so much ventures one inch off the beaten path, while walking to the nearby movie theatre.  I warn her that there better be no miscommunication when it comes to what parent is picking them up because if I something happens where she "has to" walk home (classic manipulation)...she's in some serious, serious trouble.  I see one of the girl's eyes get big as if that original brainstorm was a consideration at one point and I am sure that idea gets squashed once they walk out the door. They think adults are just so stupid.    Been there and done that myself.

Recent attempts at manipulation has been to not answer "her" cell phone because it was on "Silent" and she didn't hear it.  BS.  I remind her that the only reason she has a cell phone is because I pay for a family plan and the whole idea is for her to be accessable to ME.  I don't care for one minute if she can be in contact with her friends.  So, the last time she didn't answer her cellphone "because it was on silent" I promptly drove to where she was, called off the fun, put her fanny in the car, and confiscated "MY" cell phone for several days.   She's learning. 

Her therapist recently said that raising teenagers is like having a two year old again....You have to watch them every minute and keep dangerous things outta their reach!  I thought that was an outstanding analogy.  Especially fitting  this morning, when I found a box that she's decorated with the words..BOX FULL OF SHARP OBJECTS...containing a razor blade..and some of Papa's diabetic finger lancets. 

Arrrgggghhh!  

More later.

Summertime...and the livin' ain't easy!

For some reason this week, people are just pissing me off left and right.  I am just out of sorts and on edge and it's really not like me.   

Maybe I've had too much on my plate lately, but still, I feel I have had some legitimate reasons for my irritation. 

Have I mentioned that I can not wait to be an "empty nester?"  I seriously wonder what is wrong with those women who get all upset when all the kids have left home. 

I think I will count down the days until she goes to college, like I am counting down the time until retirement. Ab is a slob.  Plain and simple.  And, summer vacation is a nightmare for me, because this child needs an adult to follow her around and say..."Pick this up and put it away where it lives.  Wipe up the mess you just made on the counter.  Why are there popcorn kernals on the brand new wood floor?  Haven't you been told NOT to eat in the TV room on the new furniture?"  What DID you do today besides flop your self in front of the computer and EAT?  Do you think you could do at least one load of laundry today?" 

I know I've got to change my tactics with her and actually give her a list of things to accomplish, since her school vacation is no vacation for me.  Maybe I will leave the computer off until I get home and ensure that she's cleaned up her messes and that the house is no worse than it was when I left that morning.  Arrrrrgggghhhh!  

Then, another thing that drives me crazy is that when I get home, she wants to have her "boyfriend" over.  He's 12 and they REALLY like each other. 

They like each other so much that I have to watch them constantly!  Arrrrrggggghhh!  It's like listening for little kids all the time.  When it's quiet in the game room and I don't hear those pool balls bouncing around, something's got to be up!  Sure enough, despite the rules that I give them each time they're together, I'll find them in a lip lock!   Ab says I am "Overly watchative!" which is her latest word.

Last night I called J out and told him that I was fully prepared to send him home, immediately if he didn't keep his lips together on his own face and his hands to himself.  He finally got the message, at least for that visit.  Thank goodness he doesn't live close enough to sneak over in the day time?  Argggghhh again!

I have her signed up for two summer camp sessions and I can't wait until she goes!   Two weeks into the summer and I am already ready for school to start. 

I am exhausted.   

 

He Beat It!

So, the big news today was the verdict in the Michael Jackson case. Considering my line of work, we sat around the TV awaiting the outcome and placing bets. I felt he’d be found “Not Guilty” right along, and I was right. He beat it.

Please don’t think for a minute that I think he’s not guilty of everything they charged him with, because I think he’s guilty as sin. A verdict of “Not Guilty” does not mean he was proven to be innocent. But, I believe the system worked the way it should.

I believe the DA had a shaky case to begin with when he went to trial, and I am sure they did their best with what they had. Shaky, low-life types make incredible witnesses and they had to be a major detriment to the case.

However, it’s important to consider that there was enough compelling evidence against the man to bring the case to trial. For Michael Jackson and his supporters to say that the DA has a vendetta against Jackson is ludicrous. The law enforcement investigators in this case had information to support the charges that warranted the DA’s prosecution. It didn’t happen the other way around.

For Michael Jackson to pay the millions in “Hush Money” that he did in the 1993 case, one must believe that there was substantial evidence that Michael couldn’t afford to have divulged. You don’t pay millions of dollars to someone that doesn’t have some solid goods on your nasty, wacko self.

If he was truly innocent of those indiscretions back then, he could have said “Come on with it! My life’s an open book anyway!” Fighting for the truth and his reputation last time most likely would have ended it all right then…of course…if he was truly innocent of the allegations.

But instead he chooses to pay millions to an alleged victim and then continues to place himself in questionable situations with children.

What was he thinking? What were those close to him thinking in allowing it to happen? What was Debbie Rowe thinking in producing children for such a “man?” And what kind of parents would allow their children to spend the night and sleep in the bed of an adult male who has many of the known characteristics of a pedophile?

I don’t think it’s over for Michael Jackson. He is not untouchable. He will continue his behavior and the truth will eventually triumph, but....at a terrible cost to his young victims.

Monday Photo Shoot-Red

This is a restaurant/bar in North Carolina, which is housed in an old brewery.  It has wonderful food and an interesting atmosphere, with the red accent colors throughout. (Sorry about the glare...Hope it's not hurting your eyes!

A Girl and Her Gown

Graduation Collage

The Graduate

Going to a small town private school has some advantages. At least in my book. I am not so sure that Ab would say the same, but she’s survived 5 years in that environment and I think she’s got a pretty good education for my money. She graduated last night from the 8th grade; one of 15 students in her class. Now she’s headed to high school and I believe academically she’s well prepared.

At 13, she can type 46 words per minute, which is the highest in her class. She’s had 5 years of Conversational Spanish. I’ve yet to hear her carry on a conversation in Spanish, but I believe she’s had some it rub off on her during that time. She’s also made a machine stitched quilt that now graces her bed, thanks to a dedicated teacher who took the time to share her love of the art with her students.

During the morning ceremony the student body gives a hearty, “Good Morning Teachers, Good Morning Parents!” before saying the Pledge of Allegiance. Each day, the kids recite the weekly standard, such as “Praise the work of others!” and they are expected to try to find ways to exemplify the standard in their work and play. Students are recognized for special achievements and on their birthdays when the entire group sings Happy Birthday in honor of their special day.

Private school kids pray in school. They bow their heads and say the Carden Prayer before shaking hands with the teachers as they file off to their classrooms to begin their day; Father in Heaven to Thee we pray, Asking Thy Help, day by day, In all we say, in all we do, Make us kind and generous, too. Make us eager in our work today, Make us joyous in our play, Help us always to follow Thy rule, Father in Heaven, bless our school. Amen.

It’s okay for the teachers and staff to hug the children. And…it’s done regularly and openly. How cool is that? The teachers also stay in constant contact with the parents as they personally walk each child to Mom or Dad’s awaiting car to see them off at the end of the school day.

Special events are very special, with colorful decorations and personalized table favors, like graduation. Each graduate had a family table set for 10 guests, beautifully covered in a crisp white tablecloth, with candle centerpieces surrounded with multi-colored confetti, snapshots of the graduate through the school year. Special poses were framed as take-home gifts!

Congratulatory cards and messages from fellow students and parents were thoughtfully placed. As Ab opened a card from her principal, I cried when I read…“Of all the graduates, I am most proud of you!” in reference to the difficult times she’s endured in her family life in the past couple of years.

The boys, dressed up in their gawky best, proudly escorted the girl graduates to the stage, where each student was recognized for their achievements. Despite the school’s efforts to change tradition, the girls were dressed in formal dresses and were stunningly beautiful. Ab was turning heads in her black and white gown, and she knew it. It was a needed self-esteem booster for this child who often struggles with the dreaded teenage uncertainty.

Later, they would change into caps and gowns and walk to the musical sounds of a string processional to receive their impressively framed diplomas. Finally, a gift from the school…a book entitled, Writer‘s Inc.

Hugs, tears and family photos and then a celebration at a local Mexican restaurant.

We’re done.

No more yukky uniforms, she says!

It’s summertime!

Monday Photo Shoot-Wish I Was There!

I wish I was there, at the ocean in Smith River.  Because..... I'd be close to my dear Uncle Lee, who looks so much like my Papa and sounds like him too!  He's my closest link to Papa, who I miss terribly.  

Hugs to you Uncle Lee!

This picture has absolutely nothing to do with this entry, other than to say I'd much rather be playing with my photos, than working for a living! 

My first day back, after an 8 week absence was nice, because it's obvious that I was missed, at least by my staff and due to a multitude of staff vacancies, I am desperately needed.  Our managers are being spread way too thin and my absence didn't help the situation. 

I felt somewhat guilty when one of my fellow managers told me he had just come back to work after only 2 weeks off for a hip replacement.  Geez....only 2 weeks and I was off for 8 whole weeks!  But, doctor's orders. 

This man is on crutches, but can actually put 50% of his weight on that side, while walking with the assistance of the crutches.  So, it's a little different than my total non-weight bearing recuperation, but regardless, I am very impressed that he'd come back that quick.  Dedication for sure. 

Had an opportunity to chat with Fly Boy for a few minutes on the Instant Messenger this afternoon.  He said morale's pretty bad since the loss of those two men.  It's difficult for him to sleep and even harder for his roomie, who was one of the survivors in the other helicopter, that didn't crash. 

Fly Boy said his roomate suffers from horrible nightmares from the incident, where his copter took 7 "hits."  Fortunately the two pilots survived, returning to base.  Neither had physical injuries, but are certainly affected emotionally.  The surviving pilots were just grounded for three days, before getting back in the saddle!   Three days.  Can you imagine?  

I asked if the Army supplied them with counseling and he said yes, but he says that they do much better just "being there" as support for their "brothers."  They conducted their own memorial service for the two soldiers who died, and that had to be helpful as well.  But, I can't imagine what they are feeling right now.

Fly Boy sounded very down and I had to ask if he's okay.  He assured me that he's fine.  I told him to give his roomate my love and let him know that they are all in my prayers, then told him to be safe to return home soon to those of us who love him!

Last September, just after Papa passed away, Trish and I took a much needed breather by heading up to visit my Uncle Lee and his wife, in Smith River, California.  My grief was so fresh and raw and the ocean views, smell of the salt water and comfort of my family and best friend, helped me deal with the loss of the most special person in my life. 

Trish took this photo of me as I sat by myself on the rocks.  At the time I probably was wishing I could be swept away to join my father.  I know for sure I was contemplating life, and all it's pain.

Anyway, last night while playing with my new Photoshop Elements, I manipulated it to get this effect.  I am pretty pleased with the way it turned out.

An Exciting Oklahoma Night

I mentioned in an earlier entry that my recent trip to Oklahoma was pretty darn exciting. Yep. Well, there’s more!

Since 1988 after my Grandpa Sarge died, whenever I visited my Grandma, I’d sleep with her in her king size bed. She always had the most comfortable beds, including a dreamy “floatation sleep system” which was a partial waterbed. Oh, yeah, a waterbed. Grandma was always really cool.

Sleeping with my grandma allowed for late night “girly” chats and the opportunity to get to know her better, when she’d spill her secrets and life stories. The rest of the family would say….Grandma just tells you everything.

In the past couple of years, since Grandma’s health has declined and she now lives in an assisted living environment, I’ve stayed with my Aunt Mary instead. Grandma’s little apartment, although very cute and comfy for her, is kept way too warm for me at this stage of my life. Aunt Mary and I love to sleep under a huge fan and crank up the air conditioner, so it’s a perfect match.

So, the tradition continues, and now I sleep in my Aunt Mary’s bed. She doesn’t complain about my snoring and is always prepared to give me a hardy shake if I should forget to inhale, every time I exhale. It’s a comforting feeling. We talk and laugh until the wee hours, or until we pass out from exhaustion.

Sometimes Aunt Mary may have difficulty sleeping as diabetes has taken it’s toll on her feet. Neuropathy causes her to suffer with horrible pain that seems to really kick in when the moon comes up. Walking will often calm it down, so it’s not unusual for her to be up and about in the night.

That night was no different, and I didn’t even hear a peep when she left the room. The next thing I know, it's 4:00 a.m. and Mary is sitting on the side of the bed and I hear this very calm, one-sided telephone conversation.....

“Yes, my name is Mary (last name omitted) and I live at (address omitted) and my neighbor from across the street just called me and said that she saw a prowler put something down in my side yard, then go into my backyard. Could you send an officer over here?”

I am instantly awake and up on one elbow, listening with astonishment.

“Well yes. I just happened to be awake, sitting on the sofa and I heard something on the side of my house. I thought I was imagining things, until my neighbor across the street called. She said there was a light colored car in the driveway of the vacant house to the East of mine. That’s right, the East side. But the house on the West of me is vacant too. In fact there are two houses in a row vacant on that side. Do you suppose he’s burglarizing that house? Okay, I will wait for the officers. Thank you.”

I am thinking how impressive it is that these Okies know their directions as well as they do. East, West….geez. Californians simply say….Right side, left side. That’s why Papa, a pilot, always said I was “Geographically Challenged!“

I am also thinking how fortunate Mary is that she has a neighbor who happens to be awake at that hour, because if it were me, I wouldn’t have heard a thing. The burglar would have more likely had a pleasant, stress free heist, hearing the loud rhythmic snoring rattling the walls, knowing no one in that house is waking up anytime soon!

It was then I noticed that the kitchen blinds, facing the backyard were open. Since the bedroom was just off the kitchen and Mary had a light on beside the bed, our prowler who was still likely to be in the backyard, would be able to see right in there where two plump, middle aged women were sitting terrified in their shorty pajamas!

On second thought, I figured he’d probably throw up his hands and run away in obvious disgust at the sight, but I still told Mary to get over there and close those damn blinds!

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door and there stood one of OKC’s finest inquiring about our call. Mary told him the same story as she told the 9-1-1 Operator a few minutes earlier, and pointed out the neighbor’s house, where he could get the details from her.

She told the officer, “I think that’s his light colored car in the driveway next door!” The confused officer said, “That’s not a light colored car, that’s a Taxi!” It was apparent at that point that neither of the aged women had superior eyesight.

Again, a knock at the front door. It was the same officer back with more questions. He’d called in back-up and there was at least 5 cop cars parked in both directions, blocking the street in front of her house. I figured it must have been a slow night in OKC, but I was terribly thankful for their presence and the journal fodder.

As the young officer pressed Mary for details about just where she heard the noises, we heard someone yell “I’ve got him over here!” The young officer nearly fell as he rushed from the porch to help his partners. There was so much commotion, I hollered to Mary, “Close and lock that door!” as I imagined the perp breaking away, running into the house and taking us hostage.

A few minutes later, the officer was back to inform us that he had the suspect in custody after finding him in Mary’s side yard, hiding in the bushes. We breathed a sigh of relief. But, I had to have the rest of the details for an interesting journal entry so I did what any responsible journal writer would do…I got nosy.

I threw on a pair of sweats and opened the front door and stepped into the night air. That’s when I saw something that didn’t quite fit. There was scruffy middle-aged, man with his waist length, graying hair pulled back into a pony-tail. He had a flashlight in hand, shining it around Mary’s yard as the police were grouped up near their cars, beginning their reports and not paying any attention to him.

I couldn’t stand not knowing, so I said, “Okay now…just who are you?”

He said, “I am the Taxi driver! That’s my Taxi!” as he pointed to the vehicle. “That guy stole my taxi from the 7-11 a few blocks away! I had just stopped for gas, went inside to pay and grab a cup of coffee and the next thing I know, this idiot in a TUXEDO has jumped in my Taxi and is driving off! I figured he was after the money, but I had the money on me! Right now I am looking for the keys, because I can’t go anywhere until I find them and it looks like he ditched them and my checkbook somewhere around here where the cops found him!”

I asked him how long ago the taxi had been stolen and he said, “Just 15 minutes!”

“The guy was wearing a TUXEDO?” I said incredulously and gave Aunt Mary a high five, saying she just solved the case of the Tuxedoed Taxi Bandit!

But, I had to wonder out loud why this guy was wearing a tux when he stole the Taxi. My journal entry would just not be complete without “the rest of the story!”

Aunt Mary, a real crime stopper said, “I bet he escaped from one of the local high school proms!”

Well….after all, it was that time of year.

But, when the young cop came to the door for the final time to let us know that they had everything under control and the bad guy was going to jail, I had to ask. “What the hell was that guy doing in a tux, when he decided to steal that Taxi?”

Again, Aunt Mary gives her thoughtful take on the situation, “I think he escaped from a bad date at the prom!”

The friendly cop just laughed and said, “I think he’s a bit old for the prom, but he is pretty drunk. Who knows?”

My guess…………..He’s a runaway groom?

Well…It could happen!

I guess we’ll never know for sure.

Army Memorial Services

Today a Memorial Service was held in Minnesota for CW4 Matt Lourey, a Senior Instructor Pilot in Fly Boy’s unit, who died with his partner; CW2 Josh Scott last week when their Kiowa was shot down by enemy fire in Iraq. Josh’s services are tomorrow in Wisconsin. My heart is so heavy with grief for the families and for those soldiers that they left behind, who must carry on.

CW4 Lourey will be buried at Arlington National Cemetery in the near future. On Memorial Day, my local country music station played a new song by Trace Adkins, entitled Arlington. When I heard the song, I just burst into tears because the lyrics are so touching.

Here they are:

Arlington

I never thought that this is where I’d settle down,

I thought I’d die an old man back in my hometown,

They gave me this plot of land, me and some other men, for a job well done.

 

There's a big white house sits on a hill just up the road,

The man inside he cried the day they brought me home,

They folded up a flag and told my mom and dad, we're proud of your son.

 

And I'm proud to be on this peaceful piece of property,

I'm on sacred ground and I’m in the best of company,

I'm thankful for those thankful for the things I’ve done,

I can rest in piece, I'm one of the chosen ones, I made it to Arlington

 

I remember daddy brought me here when I was eight,

We searched all day to find out where my granddad lay,

And when we finally found that cross,

He said, "son this is what it cost, to keep us free"

 

Now here I am, a thousand stones away from him,

He recognized me on the first day I came in,

And it gave me a chill, when he clicked his heels, and saluted me.

 

And I'm proud to be on this peaceful piece of property,

I'm on sacred ground and I’m in the best of company,

I'm thankful for those thankful for the things I’ve done,

I can rest in piece, I'm one of the chosen ones, I made it to Arlington

 

And every time I hear twenty-one guns,

I know they brought another hero home to us.

We're thankful for those thankful for the things we've done,

We can rest in peace, 'cause we are the chosen ones,

We made it to Arlington,

 

Yea dust to dust, don't cry for us,

We made it to Arlington.

 

   Rest in Peace Soldiers!

I'd Rather Be Taking in the View

I had such limited time last week in North Carolina, so we really couldn't do much sight-seeing.  Although we did take a ride to the Atlantic Ocean, which was on my list of must sees.  We headed to Ft. Fisher and oohhh and ahhhed at the new construction of ocean view homes, not knowing if it was an area being rebuilt after some destructive hurricane, or just recently developed.   It was my first time seeing houses on stilts, which I found pretty amazing, considering I live on the San Andreas Fault...and we wouldn't put anything on stilts around here, due to almost daily shakers! 

It made me wonder how a house would survive there on stilts anyway, considering the strength of the winds in an hurricane.  I am sorry, but I am just not going to live that close to the ocean and have to worry about whether the ocean is going to sweep my house away with flooding or gale force winds.  (Said by someone who's living on one of the biggest earthquake faults in the nation!) 

I did manage to get a few photo ops when we took a ferry from Ft. Fisher across the inlet to Southport, NC.  Here's one of a pelican taking in the beautiful sights of his habitat, enhanced with Photoshop Elements 3. 

My at home recuperation period is coming to an end.  In fact, I should have gone back to work today, but geez...it's mid- week, so I begged off until Monday. 

This practicing for retirement is just great!  The countdown to July 1, 2006 begins!  

Grandma and Fly Boy's St. Christopher Medals

It was so hard to leave Fly Boy in North Carolina last Thursday, knowing he'd be heading back to Iraq on Saturday, May 28th.  But, making a connection in Oklahoma City to visit with my sweet Grandma made it somewhat easier. 

While in OKC, we were devastated to learn that two of Fly Boy's fellow Kiowa pilots were killed when shot down by insurgents who fired on the two copters travelling together. One young man was from Fly Boy's C Troop and the other was a Senior Instructor Pilot, who worked closely with all of them.  Fortunately, the other Kiowa pilots safely returned to base. One of the young men in that chopper was my son's room mate. 

I cannot imagine how my son felt when hearing that horrific news. 

With a sense of guilt, I immediately gave thanks to God that my son was not involved in that incident and cried for the family, friends and co-workers of those who lost their lives in a war that I find harder and harder to believe was ever right or necessary.  My son, however, feels differently and I support him fully. 

The awful circumstances surely put a damper on Fly Boy's remaining time with Fall Girl, and he left with heartfelt sadness, returning to his unit to his buddies who dealt with the loss of their brothers first hand while he was home on leave. 

His pending return to Iraq made me ask tearfully..."Can't you just resign?" (He once told me that as an officer he has to resign to end his military assignment)  "I can't stand the thought of you going back again for 6 months?"  He replied...."Mom, they'd put me in jail!"

It was then I wanted to step into what I call my "Mama Monster" role.  It's a no-holds barred, taking care of business and fully in charge and YOU will listen to me Mister persona, and call the Governor, my Senator and Congressman, the President and his Chief of Staff, Fly Boy's Commander and anyone else who'd listen to a deranged mother and say.........."This is CW2 Fly Boy's Mother and I am calling to tell you he won't be back!  That's right.  I will not let him step one foot back there.  He's done.  He's not playing any more....he's taking his flight goggles and staying home!" 

Instead, I just cried and did what my Grandma told me.  She said in her sweet Okie voice...."Now Lisa, you just take this money and go buy him a St. Christopher's medal.  I want you to get one he can put in his pocket and one he can wear!"

That's exactly what I did. 

Here's Grandma holding them in her precious hands. 

Please pray that God and St. Christopher keep their hands cupped safely around Fly Boy.

Thanks.