Let’s Say Thanks

There is always more we can do for our deployed troops, especially during the holidays. This is one of the easiest ways to show you care. At this Xerox site you can pick a card, add a message, click send and that’s it. It couldn’t get any simpler. So even the procrastinators out there (pointing at myself) can do a good deed. And even the lazies out there (pointing at myself) can lift spirits without even getting off your couch.
AND, if the card doesn’t arrive by Christmas, oh well! Our troops could use support throughout the year. Actually, bookmark this site and visit it regularly!

Where is my bleeping brain?

There comes a point in time when you realize that it is not possible to pay to become smarter. In common sense that is. I graduated from college, I really did, with honors even. That proves that I have some kind of book smarts, or at least I know how to study to pass a test or something. College apparently does not increase one’s common sense, as I have proven today.

Remember yesterday when I drove one hour down to Fredericksburg to our storage unit to get our lovely Christmas boxes? Those magical red boxes that contain the secret to life’s happiness, of which if we did not have them the wonderment of the holiday season would never materialize? And when I got down there, remember, I could not find those boxes? Remember how I drove a whole hour back and then searched the attic, thinking maybe I was a loon for not checking the attic before driving two hours out of my way? And remember how the boxes weren’t in the attic?

I was right about one thing. The boxes indeed were not in the attic. I can attest to that because I drove an hour down to Fredericksburg again this morning (and an hour back) ready to either lose my mind completely or file a police report. I double checked the house before I left. I checked in miniscule areas of closets just to make sure we didn’t shrink the beautiful red boxes in order to make them fit into our tiny house. Apparently, in my world, that could happen. I checked my purse to make sure I had the combination to open the gate to access the storage unit. I checked my purse to make sure I had the key to unlock the one-inch thick padlock guarding our earthly treasures. I checked to make sure I had Jeeves, our handy GPS unit that would remind me how to get there, although I could remember because I had been there not even 24 hours ago. Then again, maybe I wouldn’t have remembered. I checked to make sure both kids were strapped in their car seats because, well, you know.

Everything seemed in order and I even remembered to fill up on gas so as not to run out on the way down. The truck was low with all the useless driving around I’ve been doing lately. My main motivation for going today was that I didn’t want what was about to happen, to happen when Du would be off work and able to come down with us. Because you can play off stupidity in front of your kids, but it’s a little harder when your spouse is standing right there wondering whether to commit you or not.

I rolled up the door to the storage unit and went immediately to the boxes I had inspected yesterday. Yesterday I saw boxes that had “Gar”, meaning “garage”, written plainly on them. Today those boxes magically had X-MAS also written on them.

I bet you can see that without even squinting can’t you. Shut up. I could swear to you that X-MAS wasn’t on that box yesterday but that wouldn’t mean much would it. I can’t believe I missed that yesterday! And it’s not like the boxes are hidden by anything. See that empty spot over on the left?

That’s the front of the unit. The boxes were there. In plain view. Waiting for someone with more than two neurons bumping together in empty skull space to find them.

So, here are my excuses. Ahem. If you’ll notice, the boxes are not a beautiful Rubbermaid red. Naturally, I was looking for red and simply overlooked the cardboard brown. Also, when we pulled up there were two dudes loading boxes into their truck. I had to park right next to them. And, not wanting to offend them by locking my truck. . .obviously my attentions were elsewhere when I was searching. And add to that Reagan telling me, “I thought our Christmas stuff was in the attic.”

And, why did I care what those dudes thought? I had just drove an hour. And why didn’t I see that huge “X-MAS” glaring at me? Why didn’t I consider that the packers might have put our pretty red boxes into their own cardboard boxes? Because I’ve lost my bleeping brain. You know, “they” say you lose half your brain when you give birth. Well, I’ve given birth twice, and I can do that math.

I managed to get every box that possibly has Christmas stuff in it. And if any crap beautiful holiday decor is left down there, well then, it just wasn’t meant to grace our house this Christmas. Now, I must go and find horizontal surfaces to place all of this…holiday merriment… Fortunately I’m not a big decorator in the first place and therefore there shouldn’t be a whole lot of stuff to place. And that’s a whole ‘nother story, where to put the flippin’ tree.

We crashed the Walter Reed Thanksgiving meal

Our intentions were good: let’s go visit the wounded troops on Thanksgiving and help them feel appreciated and loved on a day when many might not have family around!

There were seven of us. I had even called in advance to make sure we were allowed to visit on Thanksgiving. The lady on the other end of the phone told me the best thing to do would be to have Thanksgiving lunch with them. She told me the price, the dress code and that’s pretty much it.

We were all excited to go and, to be honest, a little be apprehensive. I mean, unless you’re a professional motivator, what can you really say to lift someone’s spirits and not be all awkward and weird at first. We were determined to make a go of it though. We drove through DC admiring the architecture and the fact that there were very few cars on the roads, both beautiful things. We finally made it to Walter Reed Army Medical Center and found the proper gate for access.

As we parked and started walking towards the main entrance I think we were all excited about the possibilities. Where would we end up sitting? Who would we end up talking to? What conversations would we have? How easy would it be to get past the pleasantries and down to real good talk? I never once thought about the food and if it would be good. I’ve heard stories of military chow halls.

There was a volunteer welcoming everyone into the building and guiding us to the proper floors. We were told which floor to head to for the dining facility. In my head I had envisioned a cafeteria-style experience. With rows and rows of tables, stark, bright lights and corny decorations on the walls. The seats wouldn’t be attached to the tables like in elementary school though. I envisioned us going through the line, like in school, picking out what looked delicious, skipping the mystery vegetable. I envisioned sitting down with the troops, a low din would fill the cafeteria as people ate and talked and made merry during a holiday meal.

As we proceeded down the corridor and found the waiting line to enter the dining hall we found ourselves being presented with a cheese spread and a tray of smoke salmon wraps. This was beginning to make me question all the pictures I had drawn in my head. We waited for five or ten minutes until lunch began. This is a military facility, therefore lunch begins precisely when they say it is supposed to begin. In line I noticed that there were no patients. Lots of people who didn’t look like they were patients were lining up, chatting and laughing. No one was looking at us though like we were out of place.

11:00 rolled around and we made our way through the dining doors. We did go through a line for our food, but it was more like a nice buffet restaurant (where the bosses and people in charge serve the food), not cafeteria. The room was large and dimly lit and there were no corny decorations on the walls. In fact, there was an ensemble playing Christmas music in the corner, and an ice sculpture on one of the dessert tables. The tables weren’t end-to-end rectangles a la elementary school. It was more like a restaurant. There were dozens of “waiters” milling about making sure glasses were full and the bread and butter was passed around.

The food was delicious and the ambiance was beautiful, but where were the wounded troops? We saw two obvious wounded soldiers and they were there with their families. We were beginning to realize that our plans would go unrealized this Thanksgiving. I flagged down one of the helpers and asked where the troops were, and would it be possible to seat one with us if s/he came in without family. Five minutes later she came back, with answers but without a soldier.

What we found out is that the Thanksgiving lunch at Walter Reed is basically for the staff and workers of the facility. It’s for the people who have to work and be on call and on duty on Thanksgiving day. Apparently people like us with no affiliation at all can come too (you must have proper id to access the base though), and they seemed genuinely happy that we were there. After thinking about it everything makes sense. This is a hospital, not a normal base where everyone is healthy, ambulatory and can all come to the chow hall at the same time. There are strict guidelines about meeting and visiting the wounded troops and we weren’t going to get access to them on Thanksgiving day.

We had a wonderful and delicious Thanksgiving meal, just not with the people we had hoped. Lesson learned. When you’re wanting to do a good deed make sure to get all the facts straight beforehand. Visions that you spin up in your head may not reflect reality at all. I hope that there is something special done for the wounded soldiers on holidays when family may not be around and spirits may not be all that high. I’m not sure what we’ll do next year, but I don’t think we’ve given up yet.

Holiday Interactivity

The Simon and Schuster publishing company was kind enough to send me two cool books. I did not ask for them, but was very thankful to receive them. Both books are by David Carter and both are pop-up books.

This intrigued me when I looked through it, and I have to admit I didn’t get it beyond the artwork when I first looked through the book. It didn’t take long though to realize each page opens up to make different noises, and it’s the white part of the page that makes the noise, hence the title. Carter has created a series of color books and this latest installment pays tribute to the former books. In White Noise Carter has hidden images that refer to his other color books.

This isn’t your traditional pop-up book for little kids. My seven-year old enjoys making the noise on each page and finding the hidden images. A great book for any art lover and kid at heart.

Honestly, what pop-up book is for little kids though? I do not buy them for my kids because there is a cheap frugal part of me that does not want to spend the money on a book that will be destroyed by a child who just doesn’t get the idea that all parts should remain intact (example to come). If you are brave or just not weird like me, then this next book is for your toddlers…and seven year olds.

Snow Bugs is a cute winter book that allows kids to explore different winter scenes. Different tactile and visual stimulations are on each page and my two-year old daughter had fun opening, folding,

pulling, touching,

and tearing…

This is what you want to prevent with pop-up books. That arm and leg don’t belong on the left page. They belong on the bug with another arm and leg that are missing.

The bright side is that my kid loves this book so much that she really works each page. I’m not trying to insinuate that this book is ill-made, it is not. My kid is just a destructrix. Did I just make up that word?

So check these out. They are great ideas for presents or stocking stuffers. And they just may be changing my mind about pop-up books. What is childhood for if not exploring your world, right?

Next Year, Tech!

I have to say, it doesn’t feel good to lose, but I can take it like a big girl. Last year GA Tech beat Georgia. And I celebrated. It felt good! Over on that huge social media site that rhymes with “spacelook” though, my friends, who happen to wear red, were not happy at all. Kinda ugly actually.

This year Georgia beat us.

They’re still being ugly!

It’s all in fun though; that’s why it’s called Clean, Old-Fashioned Hate. Well, that doesn’t sound too fun. But it is what it is.

I have to admit, I enjoy being the underdog. Or the underJacket, I should say. Even though we have had a much better season (than they) and are heading to a conference championship (and they aren’t), we will always be the underdogs in this rivalry. It makes it that much more of a joy to win. And the sorrow over loss, while still sad, doesn’t leave me whining about it for days.  There’s always next year!

I am so happy we have CPJ (Coach Paul Johnson), even though I don’t think I’ll ever understand how he had enough balls to try what he did during the last plays of the game. He’s. not. a. sissy. He’s goes for it on the 4th. And I like a team that’s going to go for it. So, even though his strategy didn’t work this time I’m going to trust him to lead Josh Nesbitt and Jonathan Dwyer and the rest of the team next year. We rock.

So,

GO JACKETS! On to the ACC Championship game!

There’s nothing like a Yellow Jacket girl!

BTW: Yellow jackets are so much more fierce than overweight, inbred dogs, don’t you agree? One of the two cannot be outrun. Har har. Go Jackets, Fight!