#@$$%$%&$%^*&$%&$#%^$#@

I am not, by nature, an angry woman.

I am so frustrated with my ex that I could just scream.

As a cheerleader and touchy feely support system for our son, he is superb...And that concludes our recap of his good points.

Wrestling is Big O's thing, he gets that from his dad's side of the family, and I support it enthusiastically if not always with full comprehension. I also foot all of the bills because things just aren't looking up right now for his dad financially. Things have not looked up for him financially since... jeebus, since he decided to pursue real estate.

I pay for a gym membership so that Big O can train in the off season. For his birthday, his father joined the same gym, not knowing how he's going to pay the membership dues, but because if he joined it came with one free session with a personal trainer. Which is what he gave Big O for his birthday. His Free session.

I did not mock or make fun. Turns out, this MAMON of a trainer (That's basically cocksucker is spanish, if you were wondering) told my son that he could make him a champion for the bargain price of $1350 for a 90 day session.

Guess who promised his son that he'd do his best to make it happen?

Now I am the great Satan for telling my son the TRUTH. That if $1350 is too rich for MY blood it's waaaaaay too rich for his father's.

Now I am the Shiva of Dreams and aspirations.

Am I wrong to be honest with my son?

I like to fix things. How do you fix *ssholes?

Last night, Mrs G was back in France, 1944.


She was hiding with her 3 month old son in the woods, not because the soldiers were after HER specifically, but because that was what you did when the soldiers came to town, you made sure you stayed out of sight.

She woke up in the hospital, having been knocked unconscious when the bombs hit. No one could tell her where her son was.

The man to her left was dead, and they were trying to amputate the leg of the man to her right. Then the next bomb hit the hospital. She dropped her burning robe and leaped from the second floor.

She wandered the eight miles to her home in a daze, naked except for one slipper.

She was 21.

When she got home, her neighbors had found her infant son in the woods but had not been able to find her. He was fine.

*********************

Saturday afternoon Mrs G called the Honey and told him maybe a stroke?

By the time I made it next door, her speech was gone, except for one word, the name of that son safe at the neighbor's home so long ago. I called 911 and the last few days we've been visiting her in the hospital.

Her daughter, who lives a few hours away drives in every other day, making preparations to move into her mom's home for a while, until her mom is feeling better.

Mrs G had lost her speech but was still able to write, so she has not been completely locked into her own mind. She is still sharp as a tack. But last night her speech came flooding back to her and she told me the tale she says she has never shared with her children.

The son from that story, the story that drew huge wracking sobs from her, lives in town and still has not been to see his mother, has not called to inquire.

I would like to hunt him down, but Karma or the deity of his choosing will see that he gets his. My role in this is just to make sure that her cats get fed and that she knows that we love her. But it's hard. I'd like to do more.

Am I just getting old?

My sense of humor has always been slightly off track from that of most people. It's another thing I owe to my father's black humor, I suspect.

So I think I know where they were going. I can just envision the meeting, possibly over some sort of alcoholic beverage, where someone tossed out the phrase and got a big laugh.

But in the hungover light of day, didja STILL think it was a clever and socially acceptable Christmas promo (to run for weeks) to be talking about giving presents from Santa's Swollen Sac(k)?


************************************

I know the Illinois Governor is a scandal of pretty epic proportions, but why is no one talking about This???

So we have a sleazy politician (gasp!) selling himself and his influence? Well I never...Oh, no wait, 80% of America already assumes that happens.

But the Department of Defense KNEW that Roadside IEDs were going to be an issue before we went, and even after we SENT kids over, did nothing to attain the basic things already available to keep them safe?
WHY IS NO ONE GOING TO JAIL FOR THIS SHIT?
This is directly responsible for lives lost, and we're all going to shrug like it's another $30,000 toilet seat? Those crazy kids in government...

On a related note, did anyone read the artcle in Rolling stone that in addition to his investment banking background that everyone mentioned, the guy Dubya put in charge of the Big Fat Bailout has worked for Dubya before... wait for it...

He was in charge of the independent contractors rebuilding the infrastructure in Iraq! And now he's overeeing $700 billion of your money! Hooray! Hey, maybe he could get Brownie a job...just to clinch the deal. Good job, Brownie.

(Um, I'd post a link to the RS story but while I am fighting insomnia here, I am waaaay too fucking lazy. I still get actual paper magazines sent to me, delivered by fossil fuel burning vehicles. I know, bad californian.)

I love reading the things GI Kate posts. They break my heart, but I just don't understand why more of this isn't in the headlines. (I stole the link to the DoD stuff from her.)

Random madness...

I was wandering through Safeway, and I thought I'd make the Honey a little chocolate pick me up.

I don't think I offended him, but I certainly startled the man in the baking aisle when I shrieked "Are you FUCKING kidding me?"

Okay, I didn't exactly shriek it, but I hadn't meant to say it out loud.

I'm all about adding a little goodness into my family's ready to make treats. I read my labels and make my choices based upon the best options I'm willing to cook.

But a TEN dollar brownie mix?

That thing had better massage my colon and buff and shine my lower GI like one of those riding floor polishers you see in high rise lobbies after hours. You know what? You STILL better throw in a coupon, beeyotch. Haven't you heard there's a recession?

**************************************



On a separate, glorious note, Little O consumes books like candy.

I am so tickled. One of the sets we ordered from Scholastic was Skippyjon Jones. He's a siamese cat who thinks he's a chihuahua superhero named El Skippito Bandito. Totally cute. Until Little O is reading (excellently and with different voices!!!) to her father, and she says "you are keeling me!"

The Honey casually pulls the book away from her to take a closer look, and yep. It's typed as keeling. My man who doesn't have a politically correct bone in his body (really, I've seen the x-rays), suddenly has a bug up his butt about Skippyjon Jones and his accent.

I think it's hilarious--the bug, not the accent.

Sob!

Forget AIG, save Mother's Cookies!!!!

(Okay, I bought the Halloween ones for the kids a couple of weeks ago and almost blogged about the wierd sensation of growing up, because they seemed greasy to me for the first time in my life. The bag is still on top of the fridge...)

Oh, the joy of seeing that striped bag in the basket (Yay!) and then finding out mom had bought the mixed bag (Boo!). Trying to beat your brother to the bag so there would be one or two pink and white frosted tigers or elephants, or--hell, who could tell what they were supposed to be, but oh, they were the ultimate treasure. Once you got down to the bottom of the bag, and found that one last broken bit, long after all the whole animals were gone? Score!

I'll bet no Mother's Cookies employees went on a four hundred thousand dollar spa week...

Let me speak out of my ass for a moment...

Siberian Tiger
Originally uploaded by pixelstate.

I know, I promised more positive posts, but that's in 2008.

I am NOT an animals-first type person. I think PETA does some fine work, and I think PETA is full of crack pot lunatics with waaaay too much time on their hands. If I find out that baby kittens were tortured to find the cure for cancer, I will feel bad. Right up until someone I love gets Cancer. (Sorry, Gretty)

But I took my O's to the zoo when Little O was Tiny Toddling O , and I swore I'd not go back. The animals were magnificent, but looked unhappy. The people were horrific, and I almost got into fights over people teasing the chimpanzees. Those primates are probably smarter than you and the fact that they are stuck over there does NOT give you the right to hoot and leer at them. They are demonstrating a great deal more dignity that you, you fat redneck hick. Nice mullet.

I suspect the kid who died in San Francisco was probably the best of the three, but I don't know how much credit I can give him beyond that. The brothers sound like fucking scum of the earth, and if that shoe print up on the wall matches, I hope the zoo sues THEM for the cost of a Siberian Tiger and lost business. The fact that they are being uncooperative with the authorities just confirms to me that they are more that a little at fault, and now a tiger following it's natural instincts, as well as a poor stupid boy, are dead. Those fuck-up brothers are going to sue the zoo out of existence. The fact that the dead boy's dad called looking for him on CHRISTMAS DAY, and he was dodging calls, and the brothers bold faced lied to his dad, says to me that the kid was not the snow white angel his family makes him out to be. Still doesn't mean he should be dead.

But neither should that tiger.

This has been a post from Jen, speaking out of my ass too soon on a news story that we've still only heard half of. I may regret it, much like my post on the HPV shill--who turned out to be totally legit, and is my secret vice to read. But I say again I think those boys had some role in taunting that tiger.

Let's get Real, shall we?

Reality TV is the deep fried Twinkie of junk food TV.

The Bachelor is such an appalling show. People are up in arms because the latest guy declined to choose in the last episode, taking a pass on both of the "heartbroken" women.

Right.On.

What is wrong with these women? How can one human being be such a vapid ball of quivering need? They are crying in the limo on the first episode, because they went home in the first round. They don't even have the ovaries to say they are embarrassed to be rejected in the first round, they were hoping to buy themselves a new pair of tatas from their fame, and now no one will know who they are. No, they sob that there had been a real sense of connection when they chatted at the cocktail party.

Even if you DID make it to the final round, what in the fucking hell is wrong with you that you think six weeks or SIX MONTHS in front of TV crews is going to establish a long and lasting relationship? How many of these have there been? I think there has been one successful couple? These women are so screwed up in their priorities. Where is some pride? Some...dare I say it... common sense? Where is the grandma who, on the home visit, says her granddaughter is acting like a damned fool over a guy she just met?

(See what happens when I accidentally log on through AOL?)
All of the trailer park commentors talk about how eeevil this guy is.

He's a tail chasing dog--who ever thought anything else about a man going on reality TV to find a mate? If anything people should give him props for saying upfront that he's not interested, instead of faking it for the six weeks after the show finishes so ABC gets to pretend it was a love match.

The girls are always horrified to learn that he was kissing another woman the same way he kissed them. The junior high lesson in social diseases should tell you that you have probably (in effect) kissed every girl in the house--since this isn't one of "those" blogs, we won't talk about what else your little microbial community may have shared.

The fact that they televise this shit so some little girl whose parents aren't paying attention will soak it all up like a sponge and think that life is like this....ack. Probably the same little girl who's wearing the Bratz line of pre-teen thong underwear. sigh.

I want to get the Honey cable for Christmas. I do. But then Little O will be soaking up whatever that sweet sixteen crap is on MTV. Say what you will about telling your kids "no" and controlling their TV viewing, but if it's on, they will FIND a way to watch. Don't kid yourselves.

PLEASE lord tiny baby jeebus, give me the ability to teach my daughter to THINK. I see the Honey's nieces dumbing themselves down the older they get, and it KILLS me. At least three of them would sell a kidney to go on one of those shows. Maybe not their own, but hey--that's what parents are for, no?

Wednesday Hero

This Weeks Solider Was Suggested By Robert

Lt. General Lewis B. "Chesty" Puller
June 26, 1898 - October 11, 1971


Lieutenant General Lewis B. "Chesty" Puller was a colorful veteran of the Korean War, four World War II campaigns, and expeditionary service in China, Nicaragua, and Haiti. He is the only Marine to win the Navy Cross five times for heroism and gallantry in combat earing him the distinction of being the most decorated Marine in the history of the USMC.

A Marine officer and enlisted man for 37 years, General Puller served at sea or overseas for all but ten of those years, including a hitch as commander of the "Horse Marines" in China. Excluding medals from foreign governments, he won a total of 14 personal decorations in combat, plus a long list of campaign medals, unit citation ribbons and other awards. In addition to the Navy Crosses, the highest honor the Navy can bestow, he holds its Army equivalent, the Distinguished Service Cross. A list of his awards can be found here.

Born 26 June 1898, at West Point, Virginia, the general attended Virginia Military Institute until enlisting in the Marine Corps in August 1918. He was appointed a Marine Reserve second lieutenant 16 June 1919, but due to force reductions after World War I, was placed on inactive duty ten days later. He rejoined the Marines as an enlisted man to serve with the Gendarmerie d'Haiti, a military force in that country under a treaty with the United States. Most of its officers were U. S. Marines, while its enlisted personnel were Haitians.

After almost five years in Haiti, where he saw frequent action against the Caco rebels, Puller returned in March 1924 to the United States. He was commissioned a Marine second lieutenant that same month, and during the next two years, served at the Marine Barracks, Norfolk, Virginia, completed the Basic School at Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and served with the 10th Marine Regiment at Quantico, Virginia.

In July of 1926, Puller embarked for a two-year tour of duty at the Marine Barracks, Pearl Harbor. Returning in June 1928, he served in San Diego, California, until he joined the Nicaraguan National Guard Detachment that December. After winning his first Navy Cross in Nicaragua, he returned to the United States in July 1931 to enter the Company Officers Course at the Army Infantry School, Fort Benning, Georgia. He completed the course in June 1932 and returned to Nicaragua the following month to begin the tour of duty that brought him a second Navy Cross.

In January 1933, Puller left Nicaragua for the United States. A month later he sailed from San Francisco to join the Marine Detachment of the American Legation at Peiping, China. There, in addition to other duties, he commanded the famed "Horse Marines." Without coming back to the United States, he began a tour of sea duty in USS AUGUSTA of the Asiatic Fleet. In June 1936 he returned to the United States to become an instructor in the Basic School at Philadelphia. He left there in May 1939 to serve another year as commander of the AUGUSTA's Marine Detachment, and from that cruiser, joined the 4th Marine Regiment at Shanghai, China, in May 1940.

After serving as a battalion executive and commanding officer with the 4th Marines, Puller sailed for the United States in August 1941. In September, he took command of the 1st Battalion, 7th Marines, 1st Marine Division, at Camp Lejeune. That Regiment was detached from the 1st Division in March 1942 and the following month, as part of the 3rd Marine Brigade, sailed for the Pacific theater. The 7th Regiment rejoined the 1st Marine Division in September 1942, and Puller, still commanding its 1st Battalion, went on to win his third Navy Cross at Guadalcanal.

The action that brought him that medal occurred on the night of October 24-25 1942. For a desperate three hours his battalion, stretched over a mile-long front, was the only defense between vital Henderson Airfield and a regiment of seasoned Japanese troops. In pouring jungle rain the Japanese smashed repeatedly at his thin line, as General Puller moved up and down its length to encourage his men and direct the defense. After reinforcements arrived, he commanded the augmented force until late the next afternoon. The defending Marines suffered less than 70 casualties in the engagement while 1400 of the enemy were killed and 17 truckloads of Japanese equipment were recovered by the Americans.

After Guadalcanal, Puller became executive officer of the 7th Marines. He was fighting in that capacity when he won his fourth Navy Cross at Cape Gloucester in January 1944. There, when the commanders of the two battalions were wounded, he took over their units and moved through heavy machine-gun and mortar fire to reorganize them for attack, then led them in taking a strongly fortified enemy position.

In February 1944, Puller took command of the 1st Marines at Cape Gloucester. After leading that regiment for the remainder of the campaign, he sailed with it for the Russell Islands in April 1944. He went on to command it at Peleliu in September and October 1944. He returned to the United States in November 1944, named executive officer of the Infantry Training Regiment at Camp Lejeune in January 1945, and took command of that regiment the next month.

In August 1946, Puller became Director of the 8th Marine Corps Reserve District, with headquarters at New Orleans, Louisiana. After that assignment, he commanded the Marine Barracks at Pearl Harbor until August 1950, when he arrived at Camp Pendleton, California, to re-establish and take command of the 1st Marines, the same regiment he had led at Cape Gloucester and Peleliu.

Landing with the 1st Marines at Inchon, Korea, in September 1950, he continued to head that regiment until January 1951, when he was promoted to brigadier general and named Assistant Commander of the 1st Marine Division. That May he returned to Camp Pendleton to command the newly reactivated 3rd Marine Division in January 1952. After that, he was assistant at division commander until he took over the Troop Training Unit, Pacific, at Coronado, California, that June. He was promoted to major general in September 1953, and in July 1954, assumed command of the 2nd Marine Division at Camp Lejeune. Despite his illness, he retained that command until February 1955, when he was appointed Deputy Camp Commander. He served in that capacity until August, when he entered the U. S. Naval Hospital at Camp Lejeune prior to retirement.

In 1966, General Puller requested to return to active duty to serve in Vietnam, but was turned down because of his age. He died 11 October 1971 in Hampton, Virginia, after a long illness. He was 73.

These brave men and women sacrifice so much in their lives so that others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am proud to call them Hero.
We Should Not Only Mourn These Men And Women Who Died, We Should Also Thank God That Such People Lived

This post is part of the Wednesday Hero Blogroll. To find out more about Wednesday Hero, you can go here.


I often type my own little addition to these posts, marked as mine by the color green. I wish this could be a BIG addendum. In the years that I worked at the bookstore, I sold many biographies about this heroic man. Then one day another heroic Puller wrote a book. It was Chesty Puller's son, Lewis. He was a man who had a superhero for a father, who went to Vietnam, and was nearly killed by a landmine. He lost both legs and much of his hands. He was really conflicted about what had happened to him and his book won the Pulitzer prize. I was saddened to hear of his suicide in the early 90's. His family understands why his name is not on the Vietnam wall, but they feel that he died as a direct result of Vietnam.

The reason I bring him up is that there are several efforts to streamline the benefits process for disabled soldiers, efforts to make benefits automatic instead of having to fill out thirty one page applications about why an amputee vet might deserve a little help from the government he sacrificed a limb for. There was a story on NPR about it today. Find out what your congressman is doing to make sure these things happen. Regardless of your opinion on this war, these men and women deserve everything we can afford to give. Probably more than that. I highly recommend following
Charles' links. There are stories there that will give you screaming fits.

(I can't believe I wasted my 400th post on Northern California's hippie/meth/trash population)

Today the part of Jen will be played by a moody, whiny little bitch.

I am blue.

I think it's a combination of things, several having to do with money and housing, but I also would like to blame my co-worker(s).

Work: I think my base line personality is pretty happy and pretty mellow. I can roll with your verbal punches, and if you throw one too many at me, I'll smack you back.

What stresses me out to no end, is having to listen to you throw them at someone else. Someone who is too classy (and bound by certain labor laws and working conditions) to slap the ever-loving shit out of you, even in a verbal sense. Even though she could make you cry and you would deserve every bit of it. I know it's not worth the drama to stir shit up. It will all be over soon. But you ruin every goddamned day that I have to sit and listen to you spew your bile. Have you EVER focused on the positive things in your life? EVER?

ahem.

I would like my man, my partner, my one and only, to help me around the house. I am tired of being the only one who does dishes. That's why they aren't done. Because I am tired. Not sleepy, TIRED.

I adore babies. I could eat them with a spoon. I loved every single second of being pregnant. I would LOVE to have another one. But we cannot afford it. Can.Not.Afford. We are a couple of bounced checks away from being on the Government dole, and I can't do it. If I won the lottery I'd be pregnant yesterday. Sigh.

I want the TWO books I have started to POOF! appear in front of me. I don't WANT to start a third. I want my very good books to come back to me. Where in the hell did I put them? Why don't I have any clue here?

Um , crazy ass recycle man? SHUUUT UP. It's FREE, asshat. Stop talking to me.

Sensitive new age guy ex husband who cannot earn a living because you insist on chasing your dream? Grow the fuck up.

Crappy mothers who have bred and then mistreated girls who turned into amazing women without any help from your sorry asses? Shut up and leave them alone--you do not deserve your incredible daughters.

Here is my list of demands:

Be nice. Even to the person helping you at wally world, even if they seem to have a family tree with only one branch. Be nice.

Be considerate. Think about the other person. Whether that's me or someody else.

Be patient. Are you really so important that you can't wait three seconds more?

Less is more. You don't need more stuff, you need to pay more attention to what's in front of you.

Shut up. Listen. No, REALLY listen.

bleah. This has been bitchy moments with Jennifer. Your usual psychotically chipper (hmm, that's probably more real life Jen than Blog Jen) girl will be back shortly.


*********

On a completely unrelated note?
My throbbing blog-crush on Greg Beck is only deepened by his confession about poetry. He needs (other)Jen's Tuesday Work Sucks Haikus.

Wednesday Hero

Lance Cpl. Hatak Yuka Keyu M. Yearby
21 years old from Overbrook, Oklahoma
3rd Battalion, 3rd Marine Regiment, 3rd Marine Division, III Marine Expeditionary Force
May 14, 2006


Hatak Yuka Keyu Martin Yearby was remembered in funeral services as a small town boy who balanced his Choctaw tribal heritage and his military life.

He did traditional American Indian dances with grace, compassion, discipline and free spirit — "the way he lived his life," the Rev. Timm Emmons said Monday.

"He had a desire to be in the military since he was a young boy. And he believed in what he was doing. He was a warrior, and he was a hero and he finished the course."

Yearby was killed by a roadside bomb, along with fellow Lance Cpl. Jose S. MarinDominguez Jr., in the Al Anbar province of Iraq, two months after he arrived in that country.

Friends and family, fellow American Indians, teachers and classmates filed past his open casket for an hour after the funeral while a U.S. Marine Corps honor guard stood at attention.

About 1,000 people attended a funeral service meant to celebrate the life of the 21-year-old newlywed from Overbrook in southern Oklahoma’s Love County.

Those who spoke in the packed Marietta High School auditorium talked of how he loved to hunt, but never came back with anything. He played tricks, won dancing awards at powwows and appeared on a recruiting magazine for Upward Bound because of a headdress he made from a T-shirt.

Nine of his friends stood on stage to remember Yearby. Jake Barber spoke for them, pausing several times to regain his composure.

"Many great words describe Hatak. The only real word you need to say is 'brother'. He will always be known to us as the ace of spades, the most important card in the deck. He touched us so dearly that words cannot explain,".

These brave men and women sacrifice so much in their lives so that others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am proud to call them Hero.
We Should Not Only Mourn These Men And Women Who Died, We Should Also Thank God That Such People Lived

This post is part of the Wednesday Hero Blogroll. To find out more about Wednesday Hero, you can go here.

He was 21 years old. Killed after only 2 months in Iraq. I feel evil that I sent up a little prayer of thanks for my nephew who returned safe when I read that. Not so guilty about the pleading whiny one about the nephew yet to go.

Just remember the sacrifices being made. It doesn't matter if we should have gone over or not at this point. Let the historians debate that. What matters now is that we are there, and we need to find an honorable way out. Equally important, we have to take care of the people WE sent. I didn't vote for Dubya either time, but if I am an American Citizen, and I value what that stands for, if I drive a car, if I claim any part of this country, then I think I must claim it all. I sent those boys to Iraq as much as anyone, because I didn't fight harder against Dubya. I sent them to Iraq because they are there for me and my kids, and the concepts I want to teach them--be free to speak your mind, don't kick a guy when he's down, help him to his feet. Those things are part of the America I want to live in.

MMMMMust RRResist.....Don' t DO it, Jennifer!

Okay, nope, gotta be a harsh judgemental bitch about people in crisis.

So I just saw this blurb about the British couple vacationing in Portugal, who have lost their four year old daughter. Because they left her in the hotel room with her two year old siblings.

WTF?

I feel like I have a certain license to speak, as I am currently PARENTING a four year old daughter. So I say again, WTF?

They went to dinner at the hotel restaurant, and left the kids alone in the room? I still get a twinge letting Big O watch her when I run to the market around the corner and he is eleven. What do you do if the hotel catches fire? What food is so important that you leave your kids alone ANYWHERE when the eldest is four? FOUR.

Now everyone is offering money to them to offer as rewards, and if it gets her back, bravo. But then you bring the almighty smackdown on them for leaving their children alone in a strange place, and make sure that they do not keep the leftover money, so they can breed more kids to lose.

I debate taking down my header about Darwin every once in a while, because I am not always about the ranting so much as the rambling, but you know what? These people are exactly what I was talking about.

Fucking unbelievable.

Well whaddya know....

Our local representative takes a step in the right direction!

I have to confess, I was pretty underwhelmed by Jerry McNerney. I voted for him, but only because Richard Pombo, that soulless bloodsucking black hole of a Congressman, needed to be gone.

What a pleasant surprise to see an elected representative actually representing ME.

Now I have to go...I'm trying to figure out how to initiate a recall if Arnold pardons Paris Hilton...

Wednesday Hero

Spc. Josiah H. Vandertulip
21 years old from Irving, Texas
2nd Battalion, 7th Cavalry Regiment, 1st Cavalry Division
October 14, 2004


Louise Vandertulip fussed at her son about his spending. He bought wild, overpriced hats that had flames on them or horns coming out of the top, she said.

While in Army basic training, he bought portraits of himself. His mother told him to save his money.

She's glad he didn't listen.

The hats and the pictures are all a part of her memories now.

Spc. Josiah H. Vandertulip was killed in Baghdad when his patrol came under small arms fire.

Josiah Vandertulip joined the Army right after his graduation from Irving High School in 2002. He spent a year in South Korea before being stationed at Texas' Fort Hood in February. Against his mother's advice, he volunteered to go to Iraq. She told him to wait, to go to college.

"When he was determined to do something in his heart, he would do it and hell or high water couldn't keep him from it," she said

By going, he knew someone else with a young family could be saved from serving, relatives said.

He always had the important things right, Louise Vandertulip said.

"There's a lot of rest in knowing that he died doing what he believed in and doing what he thought was right," she said.

"We have a much more real sense of the cost for the freedom that we enjoy now," said his father, Robert Vandertulip.

"Josiah was the first brand new soldiers I received as a dismounted team leader in Korea. He was one of the Best soldiers I have had the honor to train and work with. He loved being a soldier as much as any guy I have met. He was a great leader in the absence of his superiors. I could always count on him to make sure the mission was accomplished. I watched him change over the year I had him from a goofy kid, to a hard charging soldier."
Sgt. Nickolas Faul

These brave men and women sacrifice so much in their lives so that others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am proud to call them Hero.
We Should Not Only Mourn These Men And Women Who Died, We Should Also Thank God That Such People Lived

This post is part of the Wednesday Hero Blogroll. To find out more about Wednesday Hero, you can go here.

Crap. Just in time for Mother's day. This man was someones baby. His mother has pictures and memories of his first wobbly steps, and I'm sure there are some Tee ball pictures of him grinning like a loon. There are those gawky pre teen years, when he became unsure of his smile, and then that sober faced senior portrait, when he was trying so hard to look like an adult. I'm glad he took those portraits for his mom, once he had started to figure out who he was and what he wanted to do-but she is missing the other half of those pictures. The ones with his arms wrapped around the girl of his dreams, with his hands on her big belly. His mom won't get the snapshot of his infant son or daughter wearing one of his goofy hats.

Those are the things that would kill me, I think. The photos that would be missing from my albums. I admit, I get a little overly sentimental when I imagine my self as the mother of a soldier. But it's not just one or two mothers who will be thinking about things like this on mother's day. There are THOUSANDS of moms with their hearts aching. All I ask is that we remember what they have lost. Honor our vets and the military families that support our troops every day.

Think about the military family who DOESN'T lose a son or a father, but a different man returns, sometimes physically, but almost always mentally. Tony Blair has brokered a peace in Northern Ireland for his legacy. What, exactly, will Dubya leave behind?

Preschool Whorez

Bratz of the brat
Originally uploaded by nickurt.

I hate Bratz. They have been banned from Little O's life, and let me tell ya, If I thought I could get away with banning Barbie, I probably would have. But every little girl loves barbies, and at least they pretend that she has occasional lapses of cognition. There are still a lot more dream date/beach babe/princess barbies than Dr./Lawyer/Veterenarian.

Bratz sink it to a whole new level. They have Baby Bratz! Diapers and Half shirts with Angelina Jolie lips painted blood red!

There are two posts that I really loved, that I am linking to.

Scholastic, the people who send out the book order forms into schools, have picked up Bratz as a brand, and are making little Bratz novellas.

Izzy Mom says it much better than I could.

The other link I am giving you is to a lovely movement called Moms for Modesty, because the fashion world insists on dressing our children like tiny adults. Or maybe like tiny video whores. There is no cause, ever, for a leather miniskirt in a size four. My only problem with this organization is that part of their mission statement is that it's unfair to boys for girls to dress provocatively, and that statement creeps me out. To me it condones the whole "she was dressed like a slut so she was asking for it" thing. They state very clearly that if you disagree with any part of their mission statement, they would prefer you not to display their stuff. So be it. But Moms for Modesty still has some very good things to say.

Thursday Thirteen -Giving Back

This was a Christmas post, originally, but I could not find thirteen Charities that had gotten to me as thoroughly as the ones listed below. So I put it off. Number Seven made me decide to post it anyway, because it was such a powerful reminder about the little things.

I honestly do not need more STUFF for Mother's day. If I got a day without fighting, where someone else did the dishes, my kids played all day, and (okay, get me some flowers) Cheerios in bed, I'll still be the luckiest girl in the world. So if your mom knows how much STUFF she has, consider some flowers and a donation in her name to one of these charities.
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We are all, each and every one of us in the blogosphere, with our computers, our heat, our food, so lucky. I read an amazing post by my blogfriend Sayre, Which you can read here.
You know that brother-in-law who has everything? Bake him some cookies to unwrap, and buy him a cow, or a goat.
Is there a veteran on your list? Give them the privilege of buying a wounded soldier some needed toiletries as they recover in the hospital.
Does someone in your family love kids? Buy mosquito nets for a mother who loves her kids in Africa.

Here are thirteen ways you can beat the Christmas Machine that starts grinding us up in July (not as much of an exaggeration as it used to be!). I hope one of these will strike a chord as something eminently DO-able this Christmas season, without invoking Sally Struthers or that nice bearded man who creeps me out with the children's photos he pimps.

1. This is the story of a goat that changed a girl's life, probably all of her families' lives, and quite possibly her entire village. It was made possible by Heifer. (No, not that cow that cut you off in traffic, she was a heffa, this is www.Heifer.org)

2. Send things to the wounded soldiers at Walter Reed. I copied this straight from an email my boss sent me.

Things they need:

WISH LIST FOLLOWS (Please, no used items or money.):
1. Prepackaged candy, cookies, and crackers (no homemade) (See NOTE Below)
2. Weight lifting gloves (for wheelchair patients - and there are many of them)
3. Pillows stuffed with polystyrene beads (very soft)
4. Postage Stamps
5. Pre-Paid Phone Cards (120 Minute and up)
6. Flannel Pajamas
7. Shoes (size 9-12)
8. Sweatshirts / Jackets (zipped & hooded)
9. Break-away trousers (snaps or zips along legs)
10. Coats & Jackets (cold weather)
11. Gloves (cold weather)
12. Scarves (cold weather)
13. Backpacks (all black with single strap across the chest)
14. Carry-on size luggage (with wheels if possible)
15. Electric Razors
16. Umbrellas
17. Credit Cards, Prepaid (Gas, Gift cards & Food for Giant & Safeway nearby)
18. Portable DVD Players
19. DVDs -Action to Comedy (use common sense as far as content and subject)
20. Portable CD Players and CD’s