09 February 2012

Jiggity Jig

Okay I admit it. I've been holding out.

About a month ago, about midnight, a small group of people gathered at our local after thought of an airport. Waiting for a puddle jumper of an airplane. On which one very tired man arrived, to be nearly tackled by 110 pounds of pure joy split across two small children up way past their bedtime. A half asleep baby, a bunch of his buddies, and I rounded out the welcome wagon.

MilDad is HOME.

11 October 2011

Money Laundering


Pull out clean wet clothes. See something shiny. Fish a dime out of the bottom of the laundry tub.

Stick it in your pocket, go about your cleaning day business. Get incredibly dirty.

Take a long hot shower, after tossing your filthy cleaning clothes in the hamper.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat..........

27 September 2011

Me, Myself, and I

This blog, and everything published on it, is mine. My thoughts, my words. I will occasionally quote things (briefly, with full attribution and a link to the original) or link to things for background material. But that will be clear and transparent. I'm not shilling for anyone.

Also, I don't speak for an organization. The opinions are my own, and don't necessarily represent any organization I may or may not be a part of. And if I'm doing it right, I may well piss off a number of organizations I may or may not be a part of.

Just so you know.

01 August 2011


The first thing I think is "Oh CRAP! What's the speed limit here? Am I under it? When did they take those trees down? He's totally hidden that cruiser in there."

The second thing I think is "I need to make sure I tell MilDad about that speed trap since he drives home this way."

The third thing I think is "Duh. Like he's really worried about speed traps when he's driving right now."

And then I try really, really, really hard not to think anymore.

30 July 2011

As my hand floats above the publish key....

When I started this blog, I saw it as a way to get some of the political and analytical stuff out of my brain and onto a page. There was some fun vignettes, but nothing much very personal. I find that is changing.

What I have been writing is, as they say, much closer to home. Some from the joy of the great family I have, some from the challenges of solo parenting and dealing, alone, with the sheer amount of crap that you have to deal with as a military spouse.

I am also no longer publishing a quasi-anonymous blog. I never worked hard to hide my identity, but I also never put this blog out there as me. Only a very small number of people knew this space as mine. Now I am linking here from places that have my identity.

So it is taking me a while to publish. Some because I am thinking hard about the benefit before I publish something with raw emotion. Some because there are organizations that I think need a good strong airing out and some direct sunlight, but providing that puts some of my volunteer work in danger. I need to make sure the needs I fulfill are covered before risking that.

So there will be a couple housekeeping posts. About how this space is me and my opinions and not anyone else's. And about what I will do with comments (spam deleted, pretty much anything else is a go unless it is seriously ugly).  And the dates on things might be funky, as I dither about what to post and what to just save.

Bear with  me. Thanks for reading. Talk to you soon.

22 July 2011

Packing Day

The bags are out and open. Every clean, horizontal surface is covered. With clothes. With papers. With gear. With stuff.

There are lists. Fifteen of this, ten of that. What to put in which bag. What not to bring.

We ply the littles with movies and snacks. The baby with milk and toys. We are on edge.

You sip a beer, slowly. You won't have another for months.

I look at it all. There will be no boot blackened socks to bleach. No t-shirts to soak the sweat out of. I won't carefully transfer the patches to a clean uniform in order to wash the one you insist you can get one more day out of. How long before I stop bending over to scoop up the pajamas you leave, every morning, next to the hamper? How long before it is real? This empty place in my home, in my heart.

Tomorrow there will be lazy morning coffee. And good food. And wine with dinner. And the beach. And then the next, we will do this. You do this thing that you are called to do. I will be here. Brave. True. Strong.

But not today. Today is packing day.

Today I am undone.

09 April 2011

Starting over

It's been so long. We've been busy here at the home of the Homebody. Bought a fixer upper. Procreated (welcome T-baby, October of 2010). Schooled and unschooled and moved and renovated and prepared to be Home Alone while MilDad is deployed. So much, so fast. It left my words whirling in my head in circles that defied expression. Nothing would come out in coherent form.

But lately, the world has shifted. Not just magnetic north, wandering with the powerful and often tragic shifts in the Earth's crust. But our politics, our communication, our idea of what it means to be a country in the world. And I found that instead of whirling, I was processing. I still am. There are a great many things I want to write about. And I feel the words wanting to come out, instead of whirling away from my fingertips.

How long will it last? I don't know. But I hope to let the words out to play, once again.