Fat Tuesday

I haven't seen too much posted about what anyone is giving up for Lent. Myself, I'm undecided as usual, amd will probably start by giving up several things in the hope that maybe I can last 40 days with at least one of them. Just to make it interesting, why don't you leave your suggestions in the comments about what YOU think I should give up? This should be an easy assignment; my vices are legion.

Bloodspite has an EXCELLENT post up today. Please go take a peek- he's got the gloves off!

Craft Blogging- A New Low

I'm sure this picture looks like one big red blob, but it's really Buddy Poppies. Kind of like the ones the veterans distribute on street corners, but with a difference. In the center of each poppy is a picture, and underneath the flower is a tag with a name and date on it. These are the men and women from Illinois who have come home forever from the Long War. These are the flowers that will go in my heartbreaking garden, which I will submit as a poppy display in April, and then again in June at the VF*nW State Convention.

I started this in August, checking numerous sites for Illinois veterans that had been lost, and collecting heir pictures. So far there are one hundred.
There's SGT Jeannette Winters, the first one; as I remember, her family's home was broken into during her funeral.
SGT Jacob Frazier stares out of his picture as though flirting,a gorgeous young man. He's been gone from us for three years now.
SPC Brian Romines looks lost in thought, his fist to his face, until you realize that hand grips a shoulder in embrace.
Pfc Collier Barcus is pure mischief in his white cowboy hat.
SGT Landis Garrison made it as far as a plane in Kuwait when his MP unit was redeployed back to Iraq at the height of the Abu Ghraib scandal.

I know all of their names, and by now I know most of their faces too. Some pictures are from high school, some from basic- I know firsthand from my living room wall how the boy in the basic training picture looks nothing like the soldier who goes to war. Others are in their battle rattle, still more looking at the camera in a random instant, caught off-guard.
Doing these displays have long since stopped being about winning; if I can make someone stop and think for minute, about what it means to serve, to sacrifice, that's good enough for me. If I make someone cry or feel the heartache of their families' loss, so much the better. I want people to remember. We all need to remember these kids, and remember why it is that they had to leave us.

I'll have more pictures as I start "planting" my flowers.

Hot For Teacher

My daughter is in the home stretch of her college education and will be graduating from Northern Arizona University in May. This is The Princess plying her craft at a recent concert:



We are VERY proud, needless to say!

Oh my!

Just getting on the computer this morning when I read from T1G that the Exalted King of All Crap, the Acidman himself had linked my crap post!

Two things here- I am honored beyond belief that he would even bother. And second, let me state a little bit of truth. Reading Rob is kind of like masturbating. Everyone does it, but it's really not discussed in polite company!

With Lent Coming...

I found this over at Omnibus Driver's and just had to know the destination of my soul:

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Fifth Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Moderate
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	Moderate
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Moderate
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Moderate
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Very High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very Low
Level 7 (Violent)	High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Moderate

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

Good Heavens, sometimes it doesn't pay to be honest with these things.

Bwa!! Hahaha!

While cruising the web this morning, I ran across a word that I have seen before, but forgotten about. Courtesy of Captain Ed:

Sitzpinkler!

See, I have a German daughter-in-law, and I really do make an effort to speak the language!

Swamp Chronicles

Alas, some good things come to an end before they become an institution. I really had high hopes for the Swamp Chronicles being a regular feature, but it just hasn't happened. For starters, nothing blogworthy has happened on Thursday nights lately. Well, Ruthie's a redhead now, and apparently picked up the temper to match it. Not that she needed much help!

The Swamp, aka Karla's River Road Pub, is one of the old roadhouse style saloons that were so plentiful in our area- sorry, T1G, it's more East End then Fritz's- the kind of place that you could never get the stale smell of cigarettes and grease out of. It used to be called Al's, and I can't remember what is was before that, just one of the local landmark watering holes that have always been there. Shortly after I came back to Illinois, a brassy loudmouthed woman from Itaaaaaasca bought the place, hence its reincarnation as Karla's. She cleaned the place up, started serving pretty good chow at a reasonable price AND began the bane of my clan's existence, Big Beer (Thirsty) Thursdays. Every Thursday night, you will see the construction class elite out in full force making Ruthie's life a nightmare.

But change comes to us all, and Karla has apparently had enough of life in Hickville. She's sold the place, and I think when the new owners take over, we won't be back. The couple that bought it have been in the restaurant business for years here, and should you think that's a good thing, filing bankruptcy every few years and shutting down your business isn't a confidence builder with these folks. Plus, Old Sarge has been to court enough with them when they had their last establishment over pouring grease in the sewer lines, it just ain't gonna happen. Cooking grease doesn't not a Happy Poop Plant make.

I'm hoping to get one more good post before it changes hands- I owe it to Ruthie!

Sidebar Update

I know I don't update the Rogues Gallery often enough. Getting into the Template scares the bejeebus out of me. As a matter of fact, I think that's the main reason I didn''t ask to be a Bad Example Clan Member- I would have had to figure out how to put the tartan up!

But there are some good folks I've been reading lately:

Blue Tige- because I got to win a contest there!
The Tanker Brothers- I like their attitude
Jack Army- getting ready to deploy soon
Og- was kind enough to link my crap post
And Bad Catholicism- well, I saw BAD CATHOLIC and figured he was a kindred spirit.

UPDATE:
Opps, I forgot James at Silent Warrior, because I never know if I want to hug him or smack him up side the head.

WTF?

Curses! I have also found out that I am known at Fritz's as Upset Mother. Isn't that kind of like Jack the Scratcher or Attila the French?

A Dirty Job

So I am sitting here, minding my own business, when T1G IM's me. He seems very pleased with his latest post and asks me to read it . Folks, sometimes being T1G's friend is a SHITTY Job!

Me: You're IM-ing me from the bathroom, aren't you?
T1G: heheheh

So, dear friend, this one's for you, an oldie but a goodie. Folks, if I left out any classics, please leave them in the comments!


THE TYPES OF SHIT

Ghost Shit
You know you've shit. There's shit on the toilet paper, but no shit in the bowl.
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Teflon Coated Shit
Comes out so slick, clean and easy that you don't feel it. No traces of shit on the toilet paper. you have to look in the toilet bowl to be sure you did it!
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Gooey Shit
This has the consistency of hot tar. You wipe your ass 12 times and it still doesn't come clean. You end up putting toilet paper in your underwear so you don't stain it. This shit leaves permanent skid marks in the toilet.
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Second Thought Shit
You're all done wiping your ass and you're about to stand up when you realize it.....you've got some more.
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Pop a Vein in Your Forehead Shit
This kind is the kind of shit that killed Elvis. It doesn't come until you're all sweaty, trembling and purple from straining so hard.
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Bali Belly Shit
You shit so much you lose 5 kilos.
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Right Now Shit
You better be within 10 seconds of a toilet. Usually it has its head out before you get your pants down.
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King Kong or Commode Choker Shit
This shit is so big that you know it won't go down the toilet unless you break it into smaller chunks. A coat hanger works well. This kind of shit usually happens at someone else's house.
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Wet Cheeks Shit
This shit hits the water sideways and makes a BIG splash that gets your ass wet.
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Wish Shit
You sit there all cramped up and fart a few times, but no shit!
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Cement Block or Oh God Shit
You wish you'd gotten a spinal block before you shit.
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Snake Shit
This shit is fairly soft and about as big around as your thumb and at least three feet long.
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Cork Shit (Also Known as Floater Shit)
Even after the third flush, it's still floating in there. My god! How do I get rid of it? This shit usually happens at someone else's house.
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Mexican Food Shit (also called Screamers)
You'll know it's alright to eat again when your asshole stops burning.
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Beer Drunk Shit
This happens the day after the night before. Normally your shit doesn't smell too bad, but this shit is BAD. Usually there's somebody standing outside to use the bathroom. This kind of shit also usually happens at someone else's house.
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The Frightened Turtle
The kind of shit that just pokes its head out then quickly goes back in
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The Bungee Shit
The kind of shit that just hangs off your ass before it falls into the water.
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The Ring of Fire Shit
The kind of shit where you eat really spicy food and your asshole feels like the inside of a cigarette lighter.
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The Crippler
The kind of shit where you have to sit on the toilet so long your legs go numb from the waist down.
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The Big Bobber
The kind of shit that no matter how many times you flush it always floats back to the surface.
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The Shitty Shitty Bang Bang
The kind of shit that hits you when you're trapped in your car in a traffic jam.
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The Incredible Hulk Shit
The king of shit that sits in the toilet overnight and mysteriously expands to twice it's normal size.
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The Jack the Ripper Shit
The kind of shit that yanks out the hair of your ass as it pushes its way out.
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The Party Pooper
The giant shit you take at a party. And when you flush the toilet, you watch in horror as the water starts to rise.
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The Toxic Gas Shit
The kind of shit that makes you pass out and fall of the toilet before you finish, and then you wake up in some strange South American town.
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Dirty Bowl Shit
The kind of shit that comes out in a million pieces a second, reminiscent of an avalanche - but with rocket propulsion, and splatters all over the toilet bowl.
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The Windy City Shit
When you sit down, and fart for so long and hard that you no longer need to take a shit.
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Oh Shit! Shit
You shit so much and wipe your ass so furiously you run out of toilet paper and you say OH SHIT!
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The Never Ending Shit
It's the shit that keeps running out of your ass like pee, and just when you start wiping your ass your stomach gargles and splash, more shit runs out. This always happens after eating at K.F.C.

The Bombshell
A shit that comes as a complete surprise at a time that is either inappropriate (i.e. during sex or a root canal) or you are nowhere near shitting facilities,

The Pyramid
The type that somes out like toothpaste and just keeps on coming. You have two choices: flush the toilet and keep going OR risk it piling up to your butt while you sit there helpless.

Life's Purpose

Found in my email this morning:

* It may be that your sole purpose in life is simply to serve as a warning to others.


Hmm. Okay, you ALL have been warned!

Dreaming of Retirement

I've been giving in to flights of fancy at work this morning. There's not much worse than being chained to a desk for 10 hours with very little to do. Eh. They pay me, all is well. But I was thinking of where I would be right this moment if this Train Wreck of Life didn't demand my presence here.

Heaven

Or, the establishment just across the street, most likely.

While spending the weekend in Galena, Old Sarge and I stumbled across this place while exploring the back roads. There isn't much- the general store, the saloon across the street that for the life of me I can't remember the name of, and the oldest church built in Wisconsin. A few houses standing, and many that are not. Looks like a place to water the horses, so to speak, when you're out biking in the summer. A flyspeck on the map. Deliverance meets the Cheddar Curtain.

But there is a definite appeal for me in the NW Illinois/SW Wisconsin area. The hills are taller, a little more wooded; you can convince yourself that having a little place set off the road in that stand of oak trees just might be as close to Heaven as you can get on this earth. Standing at the top of a hill, the wind lifting the hair from your head as though daring you to take wing, looking down on a pasture below, a creek running fast and narrow through a tangle of trees...I think God must vacation here.

I'm thinking a little trip might be in order. At least we won't have to spit on the floor of the saloon this time, as newcomers must.

Of Craftiness and Train Wrecks

Imagine standing on the train tracks, watching the train come straight at you, but you are not allowed off the tracks. All you can do is stand there and wait for it to hit you.

Yep, that's my life lately. One anxiety attack after another. No way off the tracks.

So, in an effort to get my mind off my miserable life situation, I am going to employ my considerable artsy-fartsy talents and get busy. My deep dark secret? I have skills, I have a seweing machine, I can crochet, embroider, cross stitch, paint...well, basically I CAN'T knit. So my hands will hopefully be making beauty out of bad mojo.

One little project I've been prepping for is a heart breaker. Every year for the VF*nW (do I have a trademark on that phrase yet??) posts are asked to make displays out of Buddy Poppies, you know, those little red flowers distributed by veterans. The displays can be promotional, inspirational, whatever. Last year, we did a chest filled with old letters, medals, dog tags, a Bible, etc, and Letters From Home played in the background. This year, I'm making a flower garden. Not to be too enigmatic, but the background research on my "flowers" has been pretty devastating. Pictures later.

Presidential Trivia

In honor of me working and my husband having the day off, oops, I mean Presidents Day, here's a little trivia to keep you busy. The winner may possibly get the Jeff Gordon beer cooler I won yesterday because Raging Mom hates rainbows and the number 24.

1) George W. Bush is the 43rd president; however, only 42 men have served as president. Why is that?

2) What is the most common religious affiliation of presidents?

3) The ancestry of our presidents is limited to seven heritages, or combinations of them. What are they?

4) Who are the tallest and the shortest presidents?

5) What president was never married?

There, easy stuff, I promise!

Rant alert

Well, I didn't get my fire, and I didn't drink a glass of wine, but I did go to a Daytona 500 party at the VF*nW yesterday. And it isn't even that totally bogus black flag against Kyle Busch in the last few laps, which, had he won the race would have put many dinars into my pocket, which has me pissed off. Nope, it is the National anthem.

I could have a seriously righteous rant here on the singing of it; it's a challenging song, not many people can do it well, and the ones who could or should seem to want to make it a showcase for themselves, not the anthem of our nation. I personally can't stand the Whitney Houston version of it, which seems to be the benchmark performance lately. Just sing the damn song the way it is meant to be!! Better yet, have a band play it and give me lots of harmony! Don't fuck with my national anthem!!

I just said this wasn't going to be rant on how it's sung, didn't I? Okay, back on track, I'm not sure who sung it yesterday for the race. I'm sure I should know, but I don't. She did a passable job, not too terribly many warbles and screeches added in. What really got Old Sarge and me steamed up was- no one stopped talking and paid attention while it was being sung. And we're IN THE VF*nW!! People who should know better!

A few years ago, Old Sarge was at the Carroll County Fair, where one of the area VFW's had a food pavillion set up. Good spot to recruit for membership. That night was the demolition derby, I believe, and Old Sarge and another member of the VFW were standing outside the grandstands when the National Anthem started, talking. My dear friend Pat, who I love very much and am scared to death of, came rushing out of the kitchen and smacked my husband and the other man with him right in the back of the head. Pa turned around and asked her what that was for, and she tore him a new asshole:
Pat: "They're playing the National Anthem! Stand at attention and salute!"
OS: "But I can't even see the flag! I'm not in the grandstands!"
Pat: "Who gives a shit! You know it's there, and you KNOW what you're supposed to do when that song is played, regardless of where you are."
Whereas Old Sarge promptly removed his hat and held a salute.

So, when so many of my friends and acquaintances were being oblivious yesterday, Old Sarge and I got off our stools and stood up. I could hear the bar quieting down somewhat, and when that gal got done singing, there was applause. Now, that was more like it.

There IS one song I love very much, which I think was perfectly okay to take some liberties with. The arrangement was done by Carmen Dragon, yep, the Captain's dad, and is one of the loveliest things I've ever heard. Here it is, performed by the USAF Heritage of America Band:

America the Beautiful

Have fun, kids!

For all my friends heading out for The Howl on the Prowl, have great time! And, if Raging Mom can turn into Solicitous Mom for just a minute, DRESS WARMLY! Had I been a little more up to speed, I could have sent a bottle or two of Grandma Rage's Snow Snake Anti-Venom and Attitude Adjuster. Damn, sorry about that.

Much as I love wolves, I'll have to content myself looking at the one tattooed on my back if I want to see one. I see a fire in the wood burner and maybe a nice glass of wine in my future this weekend. Brrrrrr!

Spoke too soon

My weather gremlin from the satellite just announced that there is a tornado watch in effect until 16:00.

This is just too much.

Unbelieveable

On Tuesday, it's so warm- 62 degrees - that I'm walking around downtown in a long sleeved shirt. Today, we've had it all- ice, snow, sleet, hail, thunderstorms, I think we missed a tornado, but it's early yet.

It may be boring living in a small town, but NEVER because of the weather.

Gauntlet thrown down

Or at least, it seems like Dunklezahn is waiting for me to rush to the Vice President's defense. I have only this to say:




Yes, that IS a big gun in his pocket and he's very happy to see you.

I am oboe, hear me squeak

Found at Ktreva's. I have to admit, I just take these because I have nothing to say, but my musical children might like this one.

You scored as Oboe. Oboe. You're an oboe. yup.

If you were in an orchestra, what instrument would match your personality?
created with QuizFarm.com

Happy Belated

Did everyone have a lovely Valentine's Day? Sure hope so. Except for a brief and all-too familiar court appearance, where I DEMANDED a jury trial by my peers, (not exactly, Judge Kaufmann is a very nice lady) hoping that said peers, at least one or two of them, have also had a bad experience with The Cops Gone Wild in my small burg, I had the afternoon off. I was able to do some much needed errands, buy my honey an obscene amount of chocolate to position strategically next to his recliner and attempt to get my shaggy mop shaped. I knew my regular mane tamer was out of town- I've been trying to see her for two months and just couldn't schedule anything that worked time-wise- so I called a few other places. Nothing. Walked down the main drag to the place that "Welcomes" "Walk-ins". Um, not so much, they don't. So, with a couple of hours left before Old Sarge would be home, I took matters into my own hands. Literally.

After searching Poverty Flats in vain for something resembling a comb, I retreated to the bathroom armed with the sharpest pair of scissors I own and had at it. If you haven't met me and are thinking, "Dear Lord, that's insane!" please, I have some of the thickest, waviest, curly hair you've ever seen, it's like whacking away at an overgrown hedge! You really can't make a mistake here that anyone would notice. I think it looks awesome, at least the parts I can see. Maybe not perfectly even, but I can't tell. The purchase of a comb will help me even it up, and since I can't see what I did in back, screw it. Not troubled by what I can't see.

Since I figured I saved a bunch of money, I talked Old Sarge into going to the VF*nW here in town and gambling. Good call! Won money!! Even though we no longer belong to this particular Post, it was a HOOT last night. Apparently, some of the ladies (they are in their 60's and 70's) had a tea party earlier in the afternoon. Well, at the least the lady whose house they were at, said she had hot water on and had found some tea bags, but was pretty sure they weren't used. Imagine five Grandmas laughing and whooping it up, okay, they were pretty bagged to be honest, telling "Earlene"(Earl) and "Eleanor"(Elmer) they'd better stop by for the next party, well, it did my heart good. I can only hope to have as much fun as these gals when I'm their age.

And even though I noticed it's getting pretty difficult to give my honey a good hug due to our respective roundness, I'm still glad he's my Valentine!

Who'd a Thought?

I found this over at Bou's this morning and thought I might try it on for size:

Your Candy Heart Says "Hug Me"

A total sweetheart, you always have a lot of love to give out. Your heart is open to where ever love takes you! Your ideal Valentine's Day date: a surprise romantic evening that you've planned out Your flirting style: lots of listening and talking What turns you off: fighting and conflict Why you're hot: you're fearless about falling in love

What Does Your Candy Heart Say?

Sometimes I really wonder about these things. I LOVE fighting and conflict- well, not so much at home, but everywhere else. Total sweetheart?? My ass. Couldn't be farther from the truth.

A Good Start

Politics always makes for a good debate in our household. Old Sarge is slowing but surely breaking out of his Irish-Catholic-Democrat mindset that was spoon-fed to him as a child, but occassionally it rears its head. Since we were out of the loop this weekend, we didn't know the Vice-President had a hunting accident:

TV:"...Vice President Dick Cheney has shot a man..."
Old Sarge: (snort) looking at me, raised eyebrow
Me: (shrug)"I'm sure he had a good reason."
TV:"...the Austin attorney..."
Me:"See??"

Weekend Recovery

For once, I had a pretty relaxing weekend at a VFW function. Well, except for Old Sarge's snoring being a seismic event, that is. We got in a little after 7 on Friday night, just late enough that I couldn't go to the dinner planned for the National President. Sorry, $30 for a so-so dinner, plus the expense for a new gown wasn't in my plans. So we met up with friends and went up to the Hospitality Rooms. It is such a switch when we are at these things- I become the voice of reason, rarely drink and am in bed early; Old Sarge, however, with no driving responsibility, hooks up with his buddies and is a real animal. We're up in the 10th District's room, Sarge has had several beers at this point, when our 6th District Commander comes in. He's an older man, very wealthy, but you would never know it from his appearance.
Now, remember Wayland and Madame? No?



My dear husband looks at our Commander and blurts out, "Where the hell are your teeth??" And I swear to God, without his dentures, he looked EXACTLY like Madame. Several us of were either snorting beer through our noses or pretending we had no idea who my husband was. The Commander, however, just grinned a little more and said he was all the way to Dixon (he lives in Rockford) by the time he realized he left his teeth at home and didn't want to go back. The rest of the weekend, every time I saw him I envisioned a plumed turban on his head.
Saturday was...strange. Politics runs rampant in the VFW. Add in visits from the National President and Commander, and everyone is on edge, trying to put on a good dog and pony show. My friend Sandy and I went to the Ladies meeting, hoping to be able to report on our respective chairmanships. An Illinois teacher had just won Teacher of the Year for National Citizenship Education, which is part of my program. A big deal, I thought. Sandy was having some problems with her program that she wanted to address. Well, I was told there wasn't time for my announcement. Sandy actually made it to the mike, but was cut off before she was done. We met at the hotel bar later, and wondered how two people who were District Presidents of the Year last year could fall so far out of favor with the changing of the guard. Eh. I already knew by choosing not to attend every event that's been scheduled so far this year, I was in the dog house. My family has come first this year. After two years of deployments, we have that coming.
Old Sarge and I opted to miss ANOTHER mediocre dinner event on Saturday night, and I took him out to eat. At Hooters! I figured there was something wrong that I had been there and he never had. I think he really enjoyed it, but said he felt like a pedophile. Well, those gals WERE young! We went back to the hotel bar and met up with friends who, like us, were playing hookie fron The Dinner. I left quite early, hoping to get a few hours of non-snore aggravated sleep, and Old Sarge did himself proud and closed the bar. At least this was one VFW event that he kept his clothes on, or was at least dressed like a man for a change.
So, I expect the next few days to be fairly quiet as my dear husband agonizes over cutting loose and having hisself some fun.

A New Home

It seems that there are angels in Tennessee- or at least one that I know of. Eugene and the other veterans have a new home, and it sounds very promising. Please go read this for your "feel good fuzzy" of the day.

Phew!!

I'm DONE! General Orders are in on time, all my resource material for the weekend is ready to go- all I have to do is put in half a day tomorrow and we're off to Springfield. It's seems that last year, on my old blog, I was constantly getting ready to go to a VF*nW meeting somewhere. This will be the first Conference I have gone to this year. I mean, for the last 8 months, it's like the Pope not going to Mass. I think I may be getting a little burnt out, or maybe just not quite as tunnel-visioned. At any rate, I'm happy to being going and will be happy to get back home.

And I'd like to thank those of you who went to my son's site and left a comment. I'm sure he's mortified, and my invitation to visit is revoked. Hehehe.

Oh, and I am cleaning up my language here. I was like #5 on a Google search involving mothers, sons and the F-word. That's embarrassing, not to mention sick. So get ready for lots of Heavens To Mergatroid, Sufferin' Succotash and whatnot, Raging Mom is going PG.

Business Ethics...Or Not

If you've been reading here lately, you know that my company was put in a bad position- going from three trucks down to one, option to replace not available at this time, and the WORST driver having the most seniority. This guy has cost the company so much money. He's usually off a minimum, I kid you not, of two months a year on some sort of injury, mostly back. He's totaled one truck and trailer, basically is just very hard on equipment. And, he defies me. He tries to handpick the jobs HE wants to go on, not the ones I need the truck on, and if he doesn't get his way, the truck "breaks down". If he doesn't want to work, he parks it, whether we're done or not. On top of everything else, Favorite Driver no longer works here because of all this.

So...I've been documenting everything. The refusal to load, going home early, unauthorized shop time, and most importantly, how fast the $/hour went down once he came back to work. I don't even have to make it personal, just lay it out in black and white how much money we're losing.

Ultimately, I won't be getting my good drivers back. My best guess would be that the company decides to no longer own any of its own trucks, and everything will be delivered by brokers, should they fire this asshole. It may make customer service a little more challenging, but I think I can compensate.

The question is, would YOU do it?

Health Alert!

It never ceases to amaze me what charismatic, intelligent, thoughtful children I have been blessed with. Gentlemen, for your reading enjoyment, please check out my real life son, Young Sarge, who has a very insightful post that may save your life, if not your manhood.

Oh Dear God...

Is it ever EARLY! Wardrobe coordination and meal planning at 3:30 in the morning sucks as bad as it ever has.
The county roads have been posted since early in January, earlier than I ever remember. That means several of the subdivisions under construction have not been able to get stone AT ALL. The county, however, has been...generous enough to let us run the roads between midnight and 10:00 a.m. as long as it stays cold. Wonderful. That means what little reprive we get in the winter from getting up before the butt-crack of dawn has just gone out the window.

Much crabbiness to follow...

Monkey on my Back

I'm not normally a procrastinator; I hate for things to be left unfinished with a deadline approaching. Unfortunately that's the position I'm in now, and the closer the deadline comes, the more bereft I am of words on paper. Damn! Just now I am mentally roaming the aisles of the local pharmacy, looking for that magic bottle that relieves constipation of the brain.

So if anyone has a suggestion what I can write in General Orders that would inspire the good Ladies of the VFW Auxiliary in the entire state of Illinois to send their friggin' Americanism reports in on time, I'm open to anything at this point.

The down side of taking a day off is that the work is still here waiting for me. So...while I get caught up on things that gotta get done, get yourselves over to Shayna's for the latest Eugene installment.

Do you ever wonder why, courtesy of the Internet and blogs, we are able to get so wrapped up in others lives without ever having met them? I am so upset over what is happeneing to a veteran in Tennessee that I am completely distracted by it. Please, take a minute to read that post, drop Shayna a note to let her know what an AWESOME young woman she is, and then report back here. I want some ideas, I want an action plan, on how we can help Eugene and so many others like him.

Ahh!

I'm taking the day off today, doing some much needed cleaning and sorting. Always better to do this without, um, witnesses.

However, if anyone ELSE is idle today and would like to do lunch...

Pot soaked clothes???

You Are a Freedom Rocker!

You're stuck in the 70s - for better or worse Crazy hair, pot soaked clothes, and tons of groupies Your kind showed the world how to rock Is that freedom rock?... Well turn it up man!

What Kind of Rocker Are You?

God, am I old!

Courtesy of Shayna

That's What I Meant

I was truly struggling with what I wanted to say yesterday; Juliette has it nailed over at her place.

Nose...Grindstone

I'm here, just not making alot of time for reading or posting. I actually have work AT work! Aside from that, I'm catching up on paperwork for VF*nW meetings. I have a District meeting this Sunday- HAVE THEY NO SHAME??- which means a report due on VFW National Home For Children. Ever heard of it? The VFW has a home for children and families in Eaton Rapids, Michigan. Awesome place, awesome program. And, General Orders are due soon for Department of Illinois- I'm the Americanism chairman for the state. More writing!!

So if you have the preconceived notion that all folks do in the VF*nW is sit around, drink and tell war stories, you're only partly right.

Side note to Richmond: Respect WAS a much better choice of word, and no, even as Contagion's identical twin, I would wear an arisaid, not a kilt. ;)

What a doll

T1G discusses the concept of wife swapping and blow up dolls all in one post. Honey, I hate to be the one to tell you, but just down the road at the VF*nW, blow up dolls not only exist, but are perfectly acceptable companions:



"Pearl" knows how to party!