Some days, things just get crazy.

The third was such a day at work. I had to find my own coverage for lunch, and I didn’t get my break until after 3, as indicated in this photo. That wouldn’t have been quite so bad, except I got off at 3:30. Yeah, I totally could have taken that “break” on my way home, except that would not have been exactly legal. I like to be legal. My penchant for decency and order isn’t one of the side effects of hydroxycut, it’s just the way I am. Usually.

Hey, only 300 more days to go!!

I took this shot as I was forcing myself to clean the house a bit before I watched The Time Traveler’s Wife. As you probably know, I consider this to be possibly the best book ever. I was surprised by the fact that I liked the movie, because I usually don’t if I liked the book. For a two hour movie, they followed the book fairly closely. I smiled and cried in the same places, so….yeah, they did a good job. You may watch it without fear if you’ve been holding out.

Oh, I added “glow” with Picasa to this picture, which mostly effected the already bright sunlight behind me. I like this one, because it looks like I finally feel: at home in my own skin. I’m past the age of prenatal vitamins, not yet ready for geritol, and pretty darned pleased with life.

So what have you up to this week?

This is a shot of the Boy Scout Pack Meeting on the first. We discussed camp and awards were given out. Now, the boys, they like awards, but camp, they love. In truth, so do I, though I pretend not to. It doesn’t do for Barbie to admit she likes to play in the dirt. It’s one of those fun muscle builders with no side effects that also instills a little intestinal fortitude. If you don’t believe me, you try shimmying into pajamas in a tent that’s 4 feet tall when it’s 40ish degrees. And sleeping alone. Although I do refuse to sleep on the ground, and take an air mattress with me. It’s worth the extra weight, because … well, because I have arthritis that doesn’t mix well with the cold ground and I prefer to wake up being able to walk.

The older boys are all excited about moving to “big boy camp” where the will be rock climbing and a huge lake and fishing and and and. Me? I’ll still be over with Batman and the cubs, and I will have to hear about the grand adventures around the camp fire at night.

So, this was my view late on the 27th: knitting on the Clapotis, chatting with Ang. and watching a movie. I think it was Enemy at the Gates.

Now, I watched E@tG because That One recommended it to me. Well, recommended is not exactly the right word. What he actually said was “if you want to see inside my head, watch E@tG and Apocolypse Now.” Because I want to understand his ticking, I said I would, and I put them in my Blockbuster Queue. I’ve been waiting months for them to become available and will likely have to borrow Apocolypse from him if I ever hope to see it.

Now, this is not a “pleasant” movie. It is a brutal and gruesome movie. In fact, both of these are probably ones I’d rather just read the books for. But, then I would not have seen what he saw, only for real. The folks in his “movie” never get up and walk away after the director yells “cut”.

Most of you know I am a veteran. That is, I served, during peace time, and mostly in the reserves. Getting to know an actual combat veteran, it gives me a totally different sense of appreciation for what these folks have truly done for us. Every Veteran’s Day, people say stuff about thanking a veteran, and the other 364 days a year, we tend to forget them. That’s a shame, because combat vets, they carry it with them forever. Forever. It’s never truly over for them, because you can’t unsee a thing, can’t get a do-over.

One of the things that most disgusts me about our country is the way we handle vets. We teach and train them to kill and destroy and then, once they have served our purposes, we turn them loose to try to live normal lives, with a set of life skills that they are then forbidden to employ. We ought to be ashamed. And if I ever get around to being politically active, this will be my issue.

And while I am at it, there ought to be some kind of something for folks who purpose to be life partners with combat vets. Writing this post has made me realize some things. My first husband was a combat vet. Looking back now, I can see that part of his “craziness” was due to that. The thing was, he never trusted me enough to talk about his experiences very much, so I had no idea what was going on in his head. I don’t know if that was because it was fresher for him, or what. Nor do I think it would have made much difference in the eventual dissolution of our marriage. I was much younger and much less patient, way more ignorant and certainly unable to see beyond the end of my own nose. In retrospect, I probably pushed a lot of buttons for him, unintentionally.

So here’s what I have learned:
1) it’s not about you. It’s about a nightmare, lived once in life and over and over again in dreams.
2) it’s not about you, you didn’t do it, and you can’t change it.
3) when he talks, listen. Just shut up and listen. Nod and murmur occasionally to let him know you are still there, but be quiet.
4) when he shuts up, respect that.

Come to think about it, that’s pretty good advice for anybody who thinks they love anybody to follow. We all have our demons, now don’t we?

Oh yeah, one more thing: be careful touching a sleeping man, it can get you hurt.

Umm, hmm. Oh yeah. Man did we ever go through a convolution of differing scenarios before this visit materialized. First we expected Bolivia on Thursday afternoon, which ended up being Beaufort instead. And then we anticipated no visit at all because the load was weird. But then it all came together, and this big ol’ truck pulled up in front of my house just a bit after 6. Yeah, it has a cab, but…well, there’s stuff on the cab that I don’t want on the blog. Safety issues, you know.

On this day the coolest thing that happened was that Batman asked me to play a game with him. And I totally won!

When I ordered the first set of prints from the one my friend took at the military ball, this black and white shot was included in the package. I hadn’t ordered it, it was just there. But, oh, I like it. I framed it right away. The thing about a black and white picture is that you see things you miss in a color picture. The faces and the eyes, devoid of color, tell their own story. This one answered a question for me that I had been asking for months.

Also, it answered the secondary question of why people kept asking me if this (in color) was a wedding picture. I had thought it was the color of my dress, but now I think the fact that we both have that “cat that ate the canary” expression on our faces may have something to do with it. Just for comparison, here is the color shot:

After waking with an allergy headache for several days and sneezing my fool head off for awhile, I finally bought some allergy meds. They work pretty good. Too good almost: my nose is no longer acting as a filter for the allergens and so I am dealing with the asthmatic side effects of that. Sweet, right?