Tucker, Actually

When?

2011-05-25T16:26:00.000-07:00

When do conversations with your parents (especially when dealing with money or real estate or the general plan for the rest of your life) stop leaving you feel like you are a 5 year old getting reprimanded?

The hubs and I have a plan. It is a good plan. It involves a homestead. It involves no debt to banks. It involves working A LOT less (even if that means we don't get Social Security- which may not even be there when I turn 70-something anyway). It involves us doing what will make us happy.

And I then I got ganged up on, told that our plan is foolish. Told that because everyone else is in debt we should be too. That even though retiring at 40 would be great (and a dream come true for most anyone) we would be silly not to wait until we are 50. Who cares if we are happy? Stay in the state you don't like! Stay in the job you hate! Be miserable! Because somehow that is better? How?

I don't understand. Maybe it is generational. Maybe we are just fundamentally on opposite ends of these issues. But either way I am sad that our plan wasn't met with support or excitement, but rather with condemnation and being dismissed as a silly child. I thought that would end after 30.

And? I am so over the drama and stress and frustrations in life lately. I am tired of arguing with everyone (except the hubs). I am tired of the conflict. I am tired of the drama. And I am tired of being treated like a silly, stupid child.

Ellie Goulding.

2011-05-14T07:55:00.000-07:00

Y'all need to check these out. She is awesome. I bought her album a few weeks ago and I cannot stop listening. She is sort of folk meets electronica and it is just fantastic. Consider this my monthly PSA:

These are two of my favorites, but honestly, the whole album is awesomesauce and TOTES worth the $7.99 on iTunes! Enjoy!

Plans? What plans?

2011-05-14T07:49:00.000-07:00

So, the hubs and I have a plan. The plan is to stick it out here, in South Dakota, until Kid A graduated from High School. He has applied for the JROTC instructor position and the odds are at least 50-50 that he can land that job. This would mean we would both be working, Kid A would be in a school he likes (and a school that he is succeeding in), making good money to save up for utopia and it would just be another 2.5 years.

Ideal? No. Do we love it out here? Not so much (though we by no means hate it). Do I sort of loathe my job? Yes. BUT. It is all working towards a bigger goal. One that we can surely attain if we stick to the plan. That is the plan.

But you know what? In the last 2 weeks no less than 3 (THREE!!!!) jobs have opened up back home. One at my old job (which would make me happier than I'd like to admit) and two others in surrounding communities nearer where our ideal, eventual homestead would be. To which I say- what the hell kind of timing do we have?!? Eternally six months off it would seem. Blargh!

Now... as much as I would love, love, LOVE to go back, I also see the flaws. Kid A would be back near (or in) the environment he just left. We would be expected to have him spend a LOT more time with his mom which would only result in backward progress. No thanks. And the hubs doesn't have any job prospects that don't a) pay minimum wage or b) have 100 other people competing for it. So we would be back to square one financially. Which would mean we would be much more than 2.3-3 years away from reaching our goals. Again, no thanks.

But I can't help but think how fantastic it would be to be closer to family and friends again. How wonderful it would be to just be around for all the exciting things that are going on with the people I love most. Holidays where no one has to travel 10 hours to see anyone. Being able to work at a job I love again, with people I have great relationships with. Sigh. Pardon my pity party- but why can't this be easier????

Alas, unless things change drastically, I would imagine that we will stay the course (how very Army of us, non?) and stick it out here. I just so wish all of this would have transpired six months ago.

On Food.

2011-05-14T06:52:00.001-07:00

So, food. Not so long ago I only viewed it as delicious sustenance. Of course it came from the grocery store- farmer’s markets were a luxury! Of course I would eat bananas- they are healthy and delicious and readily available! All of this delicious food has been put in my commissary/grocery store for me to buy and consume! But then books got in the way and the presumable simple act of shopping for food became so much more complicated.

First there was Eat This, Not That. Which was a great book for helping me to recognize how helpful it is to read labels. It gave me ideas what to look for and brands that were good go-to options. It also pulled back the curtains on "healthy" food and keyed me in to the tricks of the food trades. The book was great, the information was great, and it gave me skills I still use today. So I give it a solid B+. And it came with the bonus lack of guilt and easily dropped calories. Hooray!

Then there was Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. First off, it is a great read. And if you are at all interested in gardening or living off the land it is a stellar primer. BUT. It gave me guilt! Which I know wasn’t the point. I wasn’t meant to be some sort of example the rest of us should live by, merely a memoir of a family experiment. But once you know how much goes into getting bananas to the upper Midwest in the middle of winter, it gives you pause when you are in the grocery store. Boo. I like bananas! It also got me super excited about joining a CSA and frequenting our farmer’s markets again. Win! The information in the book is really great and incredibly eye opening. You have no idea the kinds of miles you food puts on just to get to your local grocery store. It will blow your mind. Our society’s steady move towards monoculture will likely freak you out. But knowing that you really CAN make/grow/store the food your family needs to live is incredibly empowering. However, you will never look at the non-organic/free-range eggs and meat in your market the same way again (which, for the record isn’t bad). Eating at Burger King gets a lot harder (it’s a guilty pleasure I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to give up!). Even with the healthy dose of unintended guilt, it is a great book and I give it a resounding A. Read it!

And then there is the Omnivore’s Dilemma, which is sitting on my bedside table waiting for me to crack the spine and get on with it. I’ll admit: from all that I’ve heard, I’m a bit nervous about this read. It is, by all accounts, a tremendous book, but I am still scared to dive in to it. Why? Conflict. Let me explain…

I am conflicted when I go to the commissary or grocery store because I am torn between eating healthy and eating locally/responsibly. Now, I realize that those two things don’t have to be mutually exclusive. Far from it. Local eating is almost always healthier! But what about butter versus margarine? One is local and chemical free… but full of fat (generally the good kind) and calories. The other is full of genetically modified stuff and chemicals… but it is lower in fat, cholesterol and calories. What to do when you are working on getting in better shape. No fruit is in season here for almost half of the year. So then what? What of the bananas in January? Or the March mango? They are so healthy and delicious… and good for my waistline… but decidedly NOT local.

How do you balance the two? Foods you love and have cultivated a taste for (salmon, mangoes, bananas, sushi, tikka masala sauce) and are relatively healthy, but have a huge carbon footprint and aren’t local? Or foods that are solely local, but in short supply during long winters and springs or knowing that something you love just cannot be local? How do you eat a lower calorie, lower fat/sugar diet that doesn’t include gnarly chemicals and products that have put on more miles than the average family vacation? And, how do you balance your desires to eat healthy, local, in-season foods with the desires of a teenager who craves things like Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Velveeta and Vitamin Water? How do you stock a fridge with cheese and not break the budget? We all know locally produced foods are more expensive (and rightfully so)- so how do you marry your desires to support local food producers with your budgetary constraints?

I certainly know I don’t have any answers. I just try to do my best and use my budget in the best way possible. Organic milk, at $3.75 for a half gallon is twice as expensive as regular milk. And when we go through 2 gallons a week, that isn’t the best use of an extra $8 per week. But joining the CSA? Totally worth the roughly $20 per week for fresh, local, chemical-free produce. We only buy the "good" local cheeses for special occasions, but we always buy the free-range eggs. Non-CSA meat is so hard to get here, but we are working on it. God Bless our Freezer! But do we still buy traditional cereals and crackers and pasta and frozen veggies? Yes we do. And I’m not ashamed to admit it (okay, I am a tiny bit ashamed). I think the biggest thing in all of this is focusing on taking steps towards more local food, less processed food… but recognizing that reaching 100% may never happen. And that is okay. At least its okay with me.

And stuff.

2011-05-11T16:53:00.000-07:00

So, first things first. The deodorant? The homemade stuff? WORKS LIKE A DREAM. I'm telling you, it works better than most store bought stuff. No, it won't stop you from sweating (and really, do you want to stop your body's natural mechanism to cool you down? I say no.), but you will not stink. Mine is only lightly perfumed so it isn't as overwhelming as the stuff you get in the store, but it works SO well. Runs, hikes, stressful days at work, just plain hot? This stuff has you covered. So if you were on the fence, GO FOR IT!

Ahem. Moving on... gah. I have nothing! I'm telling you, once you get out of the Army all the stuff you have to bitch about becomes so pedestrian and, well, not really worth bitching about. How's that for boring?

The hubs is applying for a JROTC job that opened up in town. It would mean a lot of extra money in our pockets and get us to Utopia a LOT faster. But we know of at least one other applicant who is already a JROTC instructor- so we have no idea what that is going to mean for us.

Kid A is doing fine... I think. I mean, most of our issues are normal teenager issues, so I guess that is good. The grades are a bit all over the place, but the silver lining is that most of the grades are of the passing variety so that is a huge plus for everyone!

Maisey is a good little pup. She is no Fletcher (who I still miss an alarming amount), but she is sweet and funny and highly entertaining. After a few dicey weeks with a raging infection in her suture site, we are in the clear and back to a healthy, happy puppy. Hooray!

I am anxiously awaiting Farmer's Market/CSA season. It is going to be so wonderful to have fresh, amazing tasting veggies again! Also, I have discovered that the hubs makes the PERFECT hard boiled eggs. I'm telling you- perfect. I plan on exploiting this skill for the duration of our marriage. Lastly, I started listening to a great new(ish) artist- Ellie Goulding. Check her out. Her album is excellent and totally worth the $8 on iTunes. Otherwise put her in Pandora and enjoy your day!

Sorry this is so spectacularly random. Someday I will have more exciting news to share!!!

Gettin' all hippie on you.

2011-04-28T18:35:00.000-07:00

So yeah, I just told the hubs that his wife is turning into a hippie. But not a dirty one!!! See, all these books I am reading about the chemicals in our foods got me thinking about all the chemicals everywhere else in our lives. Frankly, its sort of disturbing!

We've already done away with most of the gnarly household cleaners. That was years ago! Thanks to Beth and a super housewarming gift of Shaklee Basic H awesomeness. Seriously, worth its weight in gold and the best cleaners ever! We also used a lot of Method products for the heartier cleaning jobs (read: bathroom). I love them both and wouldn't go back to the traditional cleaners for anything!

But. Have you looked at the ingredient list on your shampoo bottle? Or your deodorant for that matter? CRAZYPANTS. I mean, talk about ingredients you can't even pronounce! So I am going to try some (maybe) drastic measures and see how going natural in these areas works. How you ask?

1. No Shampoo. Well, no more conventional shampoo anyway. Just baking soda and water... with an apple cider vinegar rinse for shine. And only when I "need" it. Otherwise, cornstarch as a 'dry shampoo'. I know it sounds crazy and like that stinky hippie with dirty dreadlocks you sat behind in your ethics class at Beloit (true story). But all the research I've done says that after a bit of a transition period with a bit o' greasiness- your hair is softer, bouncier, and healthier than ever. So I am in! And no more hair coloring for me either. This is going to be the most interesting (and most long term to see the benefits) of my hippie projects for sure!

2. I made this tonight. Home made deodorant. With only 4 ingredients I already had in the house! I will try it out tomorrow and update y'all with how it worked. Thank goodness it is a Friday, maybe if I stink folks will forget about it over the weekend??? HA! But I have high hopes for this. And it smells delicious- vanilla mint!

3. The hard lotion I made a few weeks ago works wonders and also only has 4 ingredients! I swear it works 10x better than any other lotion you currently have in your bathroom. No colors. No fragrance. No fillers. No water. Just awesome, skin softening goodness. Promise. Both this and the deodorant were super easy to make and pretty cheap too!

So, there you have it. I'm going hippie (maybe bohemian? does that sound better?). And the husband doesn't even mind ...yet.

prayers*

2011-04-14T20:33:00.000-07:00

Well, I had this long angsty post about being a step-mom all written out ready to post. And then I heard of a MilSpouse blog friend who is dealing with something that is SO much bigger, so much more life-altering, so much more overwhelming that I had to shelve it. I won't go into details, butplease send some prayers out there for those in our military community. We should always be doing it, but one of the gals (and her family) who helped me through my first deployment are in serious need of all the good juju you've got.

I am so tired of these wars. I am tired of our families be torn apart, having to deal with seemingly insurmountable issues, dealing with issues that no young families should have to tackle. I am tired of our families bearing the burden of the decisions of our politicians. And I am tired of our military being the world's police. Too many have died, too many wounded, too many will be dealing with the fallout for too long after the deployments are over.

We've had enough.

Budgets.

2011-04-11T17:05:00.000-07:00

So, I have never been one for adhering to a strict budget. This is largely in part to always having a steady income and knowing that I could always pay my bills with plenty left over for fun. Heck, I didn't even get on a budget when I decided to buy a house. Everyone does that, don't they? But I digress.

Lately, with the idea of a home and land we would purchase outright and eventually quitting work all together floating above my head (and taunting me every day at work), I decided the only way to REALLY figure out how long it will take us to get there is to do an old fashioned budget. What comes in? What goes out? How much of whats left can we stick into savings? Pretty basic stuff. But awfully eye opening!

The good news is that if everything stays the same as it is rightthisminute, we can have more than enough to buy the land in 3 years. If the hubs gets a job, we can do it in half the time (or less depending on the salary). If he goes back to school and gets the E5 stipend we can do it in 2. Then? We would just have to work long enough to be able to build our dream house (with lots of our own labor) and build back the savings account to a hearty enough number. So yes, 5 years is a reasonable goal. Which makes me very excited.

What doesn't make me excited? Knowing that the average (moderate) food budget for a family of 4 in this country is $770 EVERY MONTH. Bananas, right? I mean, our budget for food (and booze) alone less than half way into the month is $300. So we are right on track at just shy of $200 per person per month. BANANAS. I am excited for when we can produce a lot of that food ourselves, I'll be excited to see that number drop with every good harvest. But that is a looooong way off!

The good news is that there are quite a few easy ways for us to cut down how much we spend on the silly stuff. Because I am not about to go buy the cheapest everything I can find. Organic milk is worth it. So are free range eggs. And the high-quality dog food we buy Maisey. Spending cash at a farmer's market is worth it. So is paying extra for grass fed beef or free range chickens. However, I can make that latte ~~just~~ almost as good as Starbucks can. And I can make my own oatmeal to take with me when I am running low. We can subscribe to magazines we like rather than paying double for each issue off the stands. We can cut down on eating dinners out (because, really, other than Philly Teds there aren't that many WORTHY places to eat). We already cut out most soda and replaced it with juice and tea. And I am working on making my own delicious noodle bowls instead of the more expensive pre-packaged ones. And I make my own yogurt (which is delicious!).

So, the plan is 5 years. And our challenge to ourselves will be to see if we can do it in less. Obviously if the hubs can get employed here in town, that would make a monumental difference, but happily we can do it in 5 just the way things are now. And that, my friends, is awesomesauce!

Can someone put me in a time out?

2011-04-07T17:29:00.000-07:00

Blargh. Seriously. What is the deal with life lately? I mean, we went from practically no drama/stress to stress and drama and frustration out the wahzoo. Of course adding a teenager into the mix certainly helped that. But good Maude... does everyone else have to jump in and add to the drama?

The latest thing that sent me running to the wine bottle was the husband's dad telling him that he should leave Kid A and I here in South Dakota, drive 10 hours home (one way) so that he can help them cut down wood. To which I said, why can't it wait until June when Kid A and I can join you and see family and friends too? His reply? Dad wants to plant grass in the areas where the tree stumps were pulled. So if we wait until June the grass might not grow. Well now. Isn't it good to know that our busy, working, schooling family nearly 600 miles away is really at your beck and call over some freaking grass.

Gaw. I probably shouldn't even post this. But when your MIL is on your facebook you certainly can't post your bitchery there, now can you?

In any event, I just want things to go back to normal. Which I realize is childish because that cannot happen. But still. Life was just so much more doable then. It was easier. It wasn't a constant source of stress. Now it seems like I am ALWAYS stressed out. I get snippy with the husband. I have less patience with Maisey. I get exasperated too quickly with Kid A. I need a time out. And I fear that is impossible.

How do you Moms do it? How do you find time to get back to some semblance of normal? How do you strike the balance of taking care of yourself and taking care of family? How do you do it without turning into a raging bitch? Seriously. I need tips. And drinking more wine shouldn't be one of them. I've got that part down pat.

Apologies.

2011-04-06T20:15:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry I haven't posted much lately (other than my fluent-in-profanity rant against the idiotic VA). I can say for sure that it is directly related to the changes at home. Somehow working 40+ hours a week and coming home to parent/edit papers/help study/etc leaves me with not a lot of free time. And usually that free time is used up watching TV and drinking wine... with the occasional stint on the treadmill. Which mostly leaves me feeling about like this 95% of the time:

(via Pinterest, as always)

Also, I can't say that the parenting drama makes for riveting blogging all of the time. I mean, part of me wants to get online and outline the portion of the programming that is chock full of the ridiculous, inane and mind-boggling stuff that goes on here. But another part of me feels bad using Kid A for blog material. I mean, he has issues, we have issues, some of them are highly comical... but a lot of it isn't his fault. I mean, his Mom was a complete nutter with a hefty side of lazy and he's spent the last year with his Uncle who is at about the same emotional level as he is. So yeah. Somehow I feel bad using these tales for fodder here.

But here's the latest rundown: We got another dog, her name is Maisey and she is 3 and she is the same breed as Fletcher. She is sweet and funny and nice but she is no Fletcher. Which isn't fair to her, but there it is. Sometimes there is no love like your first real love- at least when it comes to dogs? Kid A's grades are all over the map- which is alternately encouraging and maddening. But the local winery is in full swing so I self medicate with local wares. Spring is here, and it is pretty amazing out in the prairie/foothills we live in. Work is the same. Swiss is waiting to hear from the jobs he applied for. And get this: 150,000 applied for the 3 positions he applied for. Now, there are actually more than 3 jobs because there are a number of cities that have those jobs open, but at best we are talking about 200 jobs. 150,000:200. CRAZYPANTS. And we are also looking into him going back to school which will mean more battling with the VA. Boo hiss. So that is that. There is your update. I'm hoping that soon things will normalize (because GOD forbid this is our "new normal").

Or maybe I just need to find my blogging mojo again???

30%.

2011-03-30T18:32:00.000-07:00

I would just like to put a ginormous FUCK YOU out there into the universe/blogosphere/interwebz to our ever-gracious (and timely- NOT) Veterans Administration.

Why?

Because after 20 years of service, 3 deployments, 30+/- medals, 1 gunshot wound, and countless other injuries.... the VA decided to compensate my husband with a measley 30% disability. Let me give you the highlights:

Gunshot wound (with the bullet still lodged in his leg): 0
Loss of mobility in one wrist and one shoulder: 0
Disturbing grinding and cracking in one knee: 0
Melanoma discovered while in service: 0
Loss of hearing in both ears: 0

Should I keep going? Because I could. But I will spare you.

However, if he had been overweight (which he shouldn't have been because he was in the effing Army) and developed sleep apnea like his former LTC, well then we could have upped our measely 30% right on up to 80%. Yep. Sleep apnea is an automatic 50%. Oh, and if he had a different VA physician like the guy who ETSd after only 5 years he could have gotten at least an additional 15% for tendonitis because "everyone gets that claim approved".

Also, this is my favorite, it was super nice of them to tell us that his numerous ankle, knee, shoulder, wrist issues are not due to time in service. Because Army Infantry PT 5 days a week for 20 years, 3 deployments, and things like earning an EIB (hello 12 mile road march in full battle rattle) would in no way, shape, or form have any hand in wearing down his joints. Sure. Good call.

I think what is so aggravating is that THIS is the payback for 20 years of service? This is how you say thanks? This is how you support our veterans? I'll tell you what VA- if this is how you are taking care of your veterans, you are failing at an EPIC level. But then again, after waiting six (6!!!!) months to get this paperwork, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, should I?

Thanks for the let down. And thanks for making us have to waste another six months going through the appeals process when you should have gotten in right in the first place. Thanks for nothing VA. And screw you too!

sheets.

2011-03-14T16:01:00.000-07:00

Just before we lost Fletcher the weather started to warm up here... which meant mud and muddy dog feet. Fletch was out running around and came back in with muddy paws. Even after the usual towel off, there was still a bit of mud, but sure as the day is long, he ran straight for the bedroom and hopped up onto our bed before I could stop him. The bed made with the cream colored 500 thread count sheets. I wasn't angry when I saw the collection of brown paw prints on the sheets, but I know I would have been a year ago, or even six months ago. I would have been pissed and there likely would have been yelling/gnashing of teeth. But that's not the point of the story.

The hubs got around to washing those sheets today. When I came home I grabbed them out of the dryer to fold them... and there they were: Those same muddy brown paw prints. Stained and permanent. Forever to reside on that fitted sheet.

All I could do was smile. I don't think I've ever been so happy to see stains on anything. And I feel a little lucky to have them there.

Funny how things change, no?

shooting star.

2011-03-13T20:22:00.000-07:00

The hubs and I went to the top of the hill tonight to look at the stars (which are almost always obscenely bright here in South Dakota) and we saw a shooting star. It was so bright and beautiful and I immediately thought of Fletcher. In my mind maybe I thought it was him trying to tell us he is okay where he is.

His muddy paw prints are still all over the patio, his fur all over everything, his uneaten dog treats, his leash by the front door. They are all reminders that he isn't here anymore. I am (obviously) still sad. I break out in tears when I least expect it. I expect to see him every time I look into the bedroom or hear a noise outside. The sharp realization that he won't ever be there again just crushes me every time. Its been like loosing a best friend. A family member. Because that is what he was to me.

However, I just wish I wasn't as angry as I am. The anger gets in the way of the things I'd rather be feeling. But I can't deny that I am just plain pissed off that this happened to him (and us). It wasn't fair and he didn't deserve ANY of what he had to go through because his life before us was harder than any dog deserved. And I am pissed of that we did everything (almost) right as far as pet owners go and we STILL lost our sweet boy after two short years to a vile, horrible tumor. I know folks who are the shittiest owners; negligent, indifferent, careless... and their dogs are 10, 12, 14 years old. Un-fucking-fair. Full stop.

But mostly I just miss him. I miss those big brown eyes. The way he stood on you or pawed at you to get your attention. The way he spun around like a dervish whenever your got his e-collar or leash out. I miss his wet nose and how he always laid thisclose to me when it was bed time. I miss how soft his fur was and how he played with his treats and toys. I miss how he ran in his sleep and how he ate cereal with me every morning. I miss how geeked out he got when we went for car rides and how he always laid on my quilts in progress (the best QC). I miss how he ran like the wind and stalked songbirds. I miss how tiny he got himself when he curled up on the couch. Honestly, I miss everything about him.

The sadness/sense of loss isn't getting better per se. Or easier. It takes more time than what has passed. It is just that life is moving on. Because it has to. But I can't help but look back and wish he was moving on with us. It breaks my heart that he isn't here with us anymore. We were supposed to have him for so, so much longer. We were supposed to go hiking this summer, and go back to Yellowstone and visit Wisconsin and my family again. We were supposed to grow older with him, give him a well deserved, plush, spoiled long life. And I think that just makes me bitter. Because I am tired of life throwing all this crap our way. No, we don't have it anywhere near as bad as just about everyone on this Earth. But things haven't exactly been easy the past two years and I guess I just wonder why the guy upstairs had to be such a bully. Why take our dog? Why put him through cancer and a tumor on his face? Why give him something so bad that there wasn't anything we could really do for him? Why? Who does that??? Why make the sweetest, kindest, most adorable creature capable of such blind, unconditional love suffer through that? Why? How cruel can you be???

Anyway, this post isn't really anything of great substance. Just me venting and trying to make sense of what has happened and all the things that are bouncing around my head. I just guess I had to get it off my chest.

I miss you little guy. And I am glad you let us know you are okay. But I still wish you were here.
xoxo

not today.

2011-03-13T09:55:00.000-07:00

maybe not tomorrow, maybe not this week... but some day.

via Pinterest.

today we said goodbye.

2011-03-11T11:38:00.000-08:00

This has been one of the harder things to go through in my life. I've never been so unprepared and unwilling to let go. Not that loosing someone you love is ever easy, but a life cut short is particularly brutal. Even more so when it was the one being who kept me company during the loneliest and hardest year of my life. Yes, he's just a dog. But he was my dog and I loved him. I suspect that I won't ever get over how unfair this was, nor will I ever get over loosing him so soon. There will always be a Fletcher-sized hole in our lives.

But I will always remember his antics, his painfully adorable face, his ever-wagging crooked tail, the way his feet smelled like fresh-cut grass, the unconditional and unabashed love, his many, many quirks, and the way he wedged himself between Swiss and I every night. I will, in time, only remember the good things, I will remember how happy and elated he was when he ran free. I will remember his lightening quick speed and predilection for peanut butter, and regular butter for that matter. The list of things that I shall remember will be quite long, for he was quite the character. Those thoughts will bring a smile to my face and a tear to my eye. And I will forever be grateful for being entrusted as the caretaker of such an incredible, tender-hearted little creature. Even if it was only for a few years.

So, dearest Fletcher... know that you are missed terribly, that life is so much duller without you in it, and that if love were enough, the tumor wouldn't have stood a chance. Home isn't the same without you. Go run free in the great tall-grass prairie beyond, chase grouse and squirrels, steal butter off the countertops and gorge yourself on vats of peanut butter. Rest your head on the biggest, fluffiest bed you can find and be rid of the pain and discomfort of that horrible tumor. Find a sweet old gal named Sparky and share tales of how silly your owner was and what great belly rubs she gave. Find a sweet Beagle named Bailey (you met him once) and he'll keep you company. And know that you will always be missed, that a spot will forever be yours in our hearts.

With that, I shall say Goodbye sweet boy. You were the best Battle Buddy this girl could have hoped for and I'm so glad that I got to make your life better. I am sorry things worked out the way they did, and none of this was fair to you, but you couldn't possibly have been loved more. And know that your greatest accomplishment in your short life was to turn a tough guy like Swiss into a softie who thought the world of you. You turned him into a dog lover and that says a lot about how wonderful you were. God speed little puppy. I love you and I miss you. xoxo.

Fletcher Colbert

2008-2011

a choice I don't want to make.

2011-03-03T15:57:00.000-08:00

So Fletcher’s tumor is back. With a vengeance. And it breaks my heart. I think I’ve lost half of the water content in my body through my eyes in the past few nights. This is so hard. Even knowing this was an inevitability hasn’t lessened the heartache and sadness.

We are nearing that horrible time when a decision has to be made… one that I doubt I’ll ever really be ready to make. The last few nights I’ve been laying in bed wondering if now is the time- before he is in too much pain or too uncomfortable. And then the selfish part of me says no, just another week, maybe two, maybe more. Maybe the tumor will slow down. Just a little more time. Because I’m not ready to let go.

More time. All I want is more time.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It shouldn’t have happened to him.

It just isn’t fair. I'm not ready to say goodbye.

I don’t know how we will proceed. The Vet visit tomorrow will tell us more. I know I want to believe that he isn't that bad, that he has more time. I just pray that I am right.

solitude.

2011-02-28T19:16:00.000-08:00

So tonight is my last night of solitude before the guys get home tomorrow. By the time I arrive back at home from work, it will be awash in a sea of testosterone. Sigh. I will miss the equitable division of gender-based hormones.

Anyone want to take bets on the first thing of mine that will get broken due to dude-based rough-housing? I'm going with one of the three oversized apothecary jars that have survived four moves.

pup treats.

2011-02-27T18:20:00.000-08:00

As promised... here are the recipes for the Fletcher approved home-made dog treats.

Gingerbread on the Left, Peanut Butter on the Right

They are hella easy to make and waaaaay better for your furbaby than all that preservative-filled stuff on the grocery shelves. So, without further adieu:

Peanut Butter Goodness Dog Treats (slightly modified, from all-natural-dog-treat.com) :

1 1/4 cups whole wheat flour
1 1/4 cups white flour
1/2 cup peanut butter (all-natural or organic)
1 cup water
2 tablespoons oil

Preheat the oven to 350 F. Combine oil, peanut butter and water. Add flour, one cup at a time, forming a dough. Knead dough into firm ball and roll to 1/4 inch thickness.

Cut into 3 to 4 inch pieces. Place on an ungreased cookie sheet. Bake at 350 F for 20 minutes. Makes 2 1/2 dozen cookies.

Gingerbread Dog Bones (from dogtreatkitchen.com):

3 cups whole wheat flour
2 tbsp ground ginger (or less)
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground cloves
1/2 cup molasses
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup canola oil
Preheat oven to 325° F
In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, ginger, cinnamon and cloves until combined. In a small bowl, using a sturdy spoon, stir together the molasses, water and canola oil. Pour the molasses mixture into the flour.
Using the same sturdy spoon, stir ingredients until thoroughly combined.
Roll out the dough to about 1/2 inch thickness.
Use your favorite dog cookie cutters to cut shapes. Lightly spray a baking sheet with non-stick cooking spray.
Bake for 20 minutes. Cool completely on a wire rack.

busy as a bee.

2011-02-27T08:13:00.000-08:00

This weekend I have made an ice cream cake (first time, and it turned out pretty damned well if I do say so myself), made curtains for Kid A's room, did 6 loads of laundry, cleaned the kitchen and living room and dining room and bathroom, rearranged and cleaned the bedroom, ran errands to Target, the fabric store, Lowes, ACE hardware, the grocery store and back to Target, made two kinds of homemade dog biscuits (recipes to follow), made the best banana bread ever, finished the binding on a quilt, made some adorable birds (photos and pattern to follow also), made more of those cool zippy bags I posted before, actually blogged (yay me!) and had enough time to feel quite serene and un-harried about it all. Ooh, and watch the Oscars.

All in all? Not a bad weekend. Now, T-2 days until the full-fledged parenting begins.

Hold me, please.

banana bread that is BAH-NA-NAS.

2011-02-26T18:01:00.000-08:00

Seriously, you guys have to try this recipe. BEST. BANANA. BREAD. EVAH. I found it on Pinterest, which is super awesomesauce and you should check it out because I can't imagine life without it now, but the recipe is posted on the Food Network site courtesy of the bakery Flour in Boston. Regardless of all that jazz, it is the best banana bread I've ever made or tasted. It is gooey and moist and full of chunky banana-y goodness. And I am off to make it now (in between the steps to making a homemade Dairy Queen style ice cream cake for Kid A's birthday... photos will follow). Do yourself a favor and make it this weekend and report back here. I'll be anxiously awaiting all of your delighted oohs and aaaahs. (BTW, I have made it sans walnuts and still totally delicious!)

NOM.

Ingredients

1 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
2 eggs
1/2 cup oil
3 1/2 bananas, very ripe, mashed
2 tablespoons creme fraiche or sour cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2/3 cup walnuts, toasted and chopped

Directions

Set oven to 350 degrees F. Line the bottom of a loaf pan with parchment paper.

Sift together the flour, baking soda, cinnamon and salt. Beat sugar and eggs with a whisk until light and fluffy, about 10 minutes.Drizzle in oil. Add mashed bananas, creme fraiche, and vanilla. Fold in dry ingredients and nuts. Pour into a lined loaf pan and bake for about 45 minutes to 1 hour.

adele.

2011-02-26T06:43:00.000-08:00

So for the past few months I've been on a Duffy/Adele/Amy Winehouse kick courtesy of Pandora. BUT. Now? I'm just on an Adele kick. I downloaded her latest album last night and it is freaking spectacular. Go check it out because this woman has incredible talent and a voice that blows all the other singers out there away.

Of course, she might not be your thing. But if you are at all inclined towards beautiful ballads, strong and bluesy songs, and that sort of poetry-turned-song lyrics. This is the girl for you. So consider this my Public Service Announcement for the week. Go get yourself this album.

You won't be sorry.

For what its worth, here's a clip (via my friend Jenn) of one of the songs sung live. No words necessary to describe this one:

modern family.

2011-02-24T19:36:00.000-08:00

So after hours and hours of Season 1 viewings of the ever hilarious Modern Family, along with diligent weekly viewings of this entirely-too-short-every-week show, I have come to a conclusion: The hubs and I might be Phil and Claire Dunphy (albeit far less attractive and way less funny versions).

Remember the episode where they do the family portrait and Claire asked Phil to try on the pants she bought him before hand, he didn't and then ended up looking ridiculous? THAT HAS HAPPENED. And of course every time Claire has a pseudo-OCD outburst? The hubs looks squarely at me, with one eyebrow cocked, as if to say, "Remind you of anyone? Hmmmmm???" Naturally, every time Phil doesn't listen (like all husbands, amirite?) or has some off-the-wall crazy idea I look at him and point to the TV. Then I give him the "same-same" gesture.

And one day, yes, I do see myself throwing broccoli all over the kitchen. But maybe that's why we find the show so stinking funny- because it hits so close to home and we can find humor in the ridiculousness. I secretly think Kid A is going to be some strange mash-up of Luke and Haley. And hijinks will ensue.

So here's the question to you, dear readers. Which TV show has pegged you and your family?

BTW: I have longstanding love for Julie Bowen, back from her days in Ed as the uber-awesome Carol Vessey, which is the best TV show no longer on TV and sadly not on DVD. :( Miss you Stuckyville!

ch-ch-ch-changes.

2011-02-23T20:46:00.000-08:00

So, for reals. Kid A is on his way here. The hubs is on his way back to Minnesota to get him now. The meetings with the principal are done (HOORAY! Private Catholic School with an Awesome Staff from Top to Bottom!). His room is set up. The computer has its privacy/child controls in place. The legal mumbo-jumbo will be completed tomorrow/Friday. And as of Sunday, I will be a full time mom. To a 16 year old boy. This is finally, really, actually happening. Seriously. Or should I say SRSLY!!?!?!

Let me tell you something: NATURE DID NOT INTEND FOR YOUR FIRST PARENTING EXPERIENCES TO BE WITH AN ANGSTY TEENAGER. That is why babies come out all cute and non-speaking and only requiring diaper changes, food and sleep. To say that I feel utterly unprepared for what will greet me in the coming weeks is the understatement of my adult life.

I feel overwhelmed and a little bit scared and unsure of exactly how to tackle the baggage that is coming with Kid A (and I mean baggage- not luggage). I am worried how this will change/effect the hubs and me and our marriage. I am worried about how stressful home life may become. I am worried about failing Kid A- because we are the last knot in his rope. I am worried about how his actions will reflect on us. I am worried that I am going to mess this up (though, to be fair, the bar has been set incredibly low, the hubs and I are practically guaranteed to do better than those who went before us). Worried. Worried. Worried. And a little bit terrified.

But. This journey (which will be epic, I assure you) will hopefully end up with the hubs and I sitting proudly in some bleachers on a sunny June day watching Kid A walk across a stage and actually get his diploma. And if this happens? It will likely be one of the biggest accomplishments of my life. Maybe not the hubs, saving the world from terrorists and bombs and IEDs... making the world safe for democracy and all, but a very, very close second.

I can promise that there will be drama, the likes of which only a teenager can muster. I can promise that there will be successes, steps backwards, moments of utter frustration, moment of pride. I am sure that there will be tales to tell... some worthy of sharing, some I will keep to myself for the sheer embarrassment/mortification/angst of it all. I can't promise that things will end how we want them to, but I can promise that Kid A is going to know he is loved and what having parents really means.

So... ready or not... here we go.

dreams.

2011-02-22T18:02:00.001-08:00

So did I tell you about the time when I had a cracktastic dream about me and Danny from (the new) Hawaii Five-0 in which I looked alarming like a cross between Kate Bosworth and Kristen Bell (which couldn't be FURTHER from the truth)? And how Amy Winehouse was there and we shared a bathroom (like, I peed while Amy Winehouse put on her crazy makeup)? Yeah. I might be going crazy.

heirlooms.

2011-02-21T18:30:00.000-08:00

So the hubs and I have been dreaming and wistfully longing for the time when we have our own place with a nice yard... there will be guinea fowl and muscovy ducks and lots of heirloom chickens... and a massive garden full of heirloom plants. And since seeds save well, we went ahead and bought us some seeds (which will also come in handy if the zombie apocalypse arrives and everything goes pear-shaped) from the awesomest company: Seed Savers Exchange. We ordered tomatoes and beans and corn and squash and spinach and onions and carrots and broccoli and cauliflower and beets and I am so super excited!

Now, if only we had a nice spot at this house for a garden. Sigh, some day. For now, we've been researching organic gardening methods and chicken breeds and searching for land back in MN or WI. Which totally makes us sound like we are going to go all hippie-commune... I swear, we aren't. But I am awfully excited about some day hashing out a simpler and more outdoorsy life.

BUT. For now, we will settle for a different sort of excitement. I shant talk about it yet- only when it is a for sure deal- but big changes are a-brewin' around these parts!

sew... a needle pulling thread...

2011-02-13T07:43:00.000-08:00

So, things have been a bit crazy around here. Work is BAH-nanas, and not in a good way necessarily. Also, we found out that Kid A (my youngest step-son) is likely going to be moving out to live with us in March. Those of you who have followed me over from T&S know that this routine has happened more than once, each time ending with no Kid A here. But somehow this time feels different. Like it is for reals. And of course that brings along a whole bushel full of issues that need to be dealt with and plans that need to be made. All of which I find reasonably stressful.

So when in doubt? I craft. More like sew. See this nifty cosmetic/whatever you want it to hold bag? I made it. And I made 5 others (two for my SIL). And they are so stinking much fun! I lurve them. And they are awesome stress relief. Creativity does a lot to calm the soul. I forsee A LOT more of these in my future.

Also? Quilting. This one is for a friend who is expecting. I shant disclose who it is for because it is a surprise, but I'm waiting for the new, schmancy sewing machine (TUESDAY!) to get it quilted and sent off. So stinking excited!

I know white isn't the most practical for a baby quilt, but I couldn't resist how the colors popped on the white background. I think it is going to look swell and I hope mom and baby love it!

Otherwise, that is all. Living out here is sort of strange. The wind is crazypants, but on the other hand, it was 53 degrees this morning when I woke up at 6:30am. Hells yeah. So there you go. My coping mechanisms (along with plenty of wine). Viva la crafty therapy!

posted without comment...

2011-02-06T20:31:00.001-08:00

other than AWESOME-FREAKING-SAUCE! GO PACKERS!!!!

restoring faith.

2011-02-05T21:17:00.000-08:00

This Will guy? Totally restoring my faith in the human race. Good stuff.

via pinterest.

Flashbacks.

2011-02-02T15:50:00.001-08:00

So today I was paging through an old pre-Christmas issue of People (one of the ones with Michael Douglas on the cover) while waiting for my chicken curry lunch to heat up in the microwave. Tucked in the back was an article about young widows. While not immediately apparent, it was actually an article about young military widows… how they found out their husbands were killed, how they have bonded over shared experiences, how they have overcome and honored their husband’s memories, etc. I casually flipped through the article and looked at the photographs. It was an article I should have been compelled to read, but I found myself intentionally NOT reading it. Like I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. And then I started to feel it. That twisting, churning, sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. The rush of panic and fear creeping up your spine and worming its way into your consciousness.

You all know what I mean, right?

That is when I realized that I COULDN’T read it. It was too close to home. Still. It was like a low-level PTSD moment for a MilSpouse. Even here, in South Dakota, safely retired from the Army, with no looming deployment… it still cut to the quick. I couldn’t bring myself to read their stories. It was like peering into the rabbit hole… I was afraid that if I got too close I would tumble in. All those familiar and terrifying feelings coming back to toy with me and mess with my head.

No thanks.

I think the thing about this "episode" is that I am amazed how strongly it hit me, even with all the miles and paperwork separating us from our former military life. It was like I was there, back in the midst of the deployment (or pre-deployment workup/misery/anticipatory grief period) in one instant. I mean, even the physical response was there. It was instantaneous. And it blew me away. I wasn’t expecting that while passing the time in the lunchroom, you know?

I think maybe it hit me so hard, even now, because the anticipatory grief period leading up to the deployment was nothing short of epic for me. Newly married, facing the questions, uncertainty and fear of a deployment (while I realized this isn’t new or special to MilFolks, it does make for a particularly noxious combination of emotions). Knowing he got shot the last time, knowing he was the kind of soldier that wouldn’t back away from a fight, but run headlong into it. Dealing with my first deployment on top of dealing with the bliss/confusion of being freshly wed. Being absolutely terrified of loosing it all before we got to really enjoy it. Having the fear and worry and depression wrap its arms around me and squeeze so tight that sometimes it was hard to breathe. Literally. Not being able to stop crying. Not being able to just STOP imagining the black sedan in front of the house, the knock on the door, the Class A’s standing in front of me. I couldn’t stop living out my worst fears in my head. Not being able to think about the deployment, the war, the Army, my husband it without launching into a mostly silent and internal meltdown. (If you can’t tell, I didn’t talk to many folks about this while I was going through it. Actually, I don’t know that I talked to anyone about it like I just have, here on this blog. Huh. But strangely, the pre-deployment portion of the program was worse than the actual deployment in a lot of ways. Sounds like a blog post for another time, no?)

Anyway, maybe the point is that your biggest fear and/or those life-altering experiences, whatever they may be, stay with you. You don’t really get over those things, not entirely. They linger in the back of your mind and rush forward to elicit the same responses as they did years ago whenever the triggers arise*. Even if the trigger is an article in People magazine. I think this is especially true when it is a fear that you have to confront so regularly and earnestly, like we MilSpouses do. And maybe part of it is that loosing your spouse prematurely is the sort of fear that, once out of the military, isn’t necessarily moot. It is a possibility that we have confronted time and time again, a possibility that really isn’t that unlikely when you are sending your husband off to war. Maybe that is why it stays with me. Then again, maybe it is just because dealing with a deployment was something that rather profoundly affected every part of me, it shaped me in more ways than I can count and who I am now is in large part to the (nearly) 2 years that surrounded it. Perhaps confronting it so early in life, when most couples are more worried about mortgages and daycare, makes the effects even more lasting. I’m not sure.

I just know that just because the retirement papers are signed doesn’t mean the feelings go away. It is now clear as day to me that our stint in the Army will have an indelible mark on both of us, in different ways for sure, but the mark of the Army will always be there. Always.

*Sounds a lot like PTSD, right? But don’t be mistake my point; I’m not equating my MilSpouse drama with that of combat troops. Apples and oranges for sure.

comic book weather maps?

2011-01-30T07:37:00.000-08:00

Well, I figure that the demonically cold weather about to swoop down upon us should at least be met with humor. Go check out Gawker's article on Accuweather.com's comically menacing weather maps. It made me giggle, hopefully it will make you giggle too.

And yeah, this one? Totes our weather for the week. BOOOOO! But at least we aren't in Minnesota where, "an ice demon flew over the Northern Plains and threw up poison oil all over Minnesota!" Bwahahahha.

work.

2011-01-25T21:05:00.001-08:00

do better.

2011-01-24T17:19:00.001-08:00

So here’s the thing I hate about America’s relationship with sports: I loathe that if a player is a scumbag and of questionable morals off the field, but wins on the field… somehow all is forgotten. Of course there are loads of examples of this… Cam Newton, Michael Vick, Brett Favre and likely Tiger Woods… the list goes on and on and on. It is just the way things are in American sports culture (and in all likelihood, sports cultures everywhere). But right now, with all the Super Bowl hoopla on the up and up, the one that is sticking in my craw is the ever smarmy Ben Roethlisberger.

I mean, come on America! The dude is thisclose to being a serial rapist. Would you let your teenage to 30-year-old daughter/sister/cousin/best friend alone with him? Would you even leave your mom alone with him? Hells no! And neither would any of the sportscasters spouting off about what a great quarterback he is. Just this fall the guy was serving a (previously unheard of) 6 game suspension levied by the NFL- which got reduced to 4 games- for his atrocious personal conduct off the field. It was that bad folks. And now, just a few months and a few wins later, it appears that most everyone is willing to forgive his no-doesn’t-really-mean-no attitude and let his complete lack of regard for women to just quietly exit stage left. SRSLY?

Since when did professional accomplishments lessen or forgive reprehensible personal behavior? This is a man who had his big, burly bodyguards/friends pick out a woman in a bar and then sequester her away from her friends so Big Ben could have a go at her, with no one there to stop him or hear her yell for help or tell him no. Classy, right? And now that he is Super Bowl bound, all we hear are the stories of his redemption from suspended to Super Bowl. Like some how a gaudy Championship ring washes away all the sleaze and smarminess.

I guess the bigger question is this: Why, in the sports world, do we compartmentalize these athletes? If you are a animal-abuser, serial adulterer, pill popper, gun-toting thug or a rapist off the field that sucks, but if you play well, I’ll still wear your jersey on game-day. How is that sound logic? If that were you or I, that title of thug or rapist or druggie or whatever would follow us around everywhere we went. At work, at leisure, at home. We would be labeled and judged by that standard in every aspect of our lives, no matter how well we performed at work, no matter what we did. No compartmentalization and likely no forgiveness. So why do athletes (and, honestly, all celebrities) get this preferential treatment? Are we more forgiving of people with extraordinary talents? Why? Are we just unwilling to let our "heroes" fall from grace and stay there? Again, why? Who wants a hero who rapes women? Who wants a hero that drowns the pit bulls he raises solely for fighting? Who wants a hero who cheats on his wife and kids with dozens and dozens of prostitutes/strippers? Why can’t they stay fallen from grace and serve as cautionary tales for what not to do and how not to live your life? Or is it that we, as a society, are just THAT in to the redemption storyline? I don’t get it.

Maybe some of y’all have some insight on this that has previously been lost on me… but still… tell me: At the end of the day, would you let a woman you care about alone with Big Ben? Insight or not, I wouldn’t. Even if he added a third championship ring.

super bowl bound.

2011-01-23T15:29:00.000-08:00

and I am loving it! GO PACKERS!

lemonade.

2011-01-20T18:48:00.000-08:00

copied, without permission.

2011-01-18T20:22:00.000-08:00

Copied from the CNN.com Belief blog. Not that I stop by there regularly... but it was a link at the bottom of another story and the title caught my eye. And then the story struck home. This is the exact battle I struggled with during the deployment... and, honestly, the struggle I've always had with religion: accepting that my faith won't change the course of things, my faith won't save the ones I love, won't make right the wrongs of the world. Though her convictions are much stronger than mine, the sentiment is shared. And I thought the story was worth sharing too.

My Take: Hating the war, loving my husband
By Leeana Tankersley, Special to CNN

Unknowingly, I took a bullet to the gut when I married Steve, a shot right through me that has left me tender and – at times – doubled over.

No one ever told me that marrying a Navy SEAL would leave me so vulnerable. At first, the job seemed sexy and noble, being the wife of a clean-cut pirate with health insurance and a retirement. Who could resist his green eyes in that camouflage uniform?

And then we went to war.

I was standing in the San Diego airport the day the Iraq war started. As if we were watching fireworks on the Fourth of July, cheers erupted when the bar TVs announced "shock and awe." I was numb with fear, my sense of pride quickly giving way to panic.

I had no idea where Steve was. He was my fiancé at the time. His last correspondence was a postcard of Cyprus sent from the HMS Ocean, a British naval vessel with which he liaised.

Later that night, breaking news of a helicopter crash belted through the car radio. “Helicopter down in the Persian Gulf. Four British Marines and a U.S. Navy officer aboard. Flight originated from the HMS Ocean.”

I waited for a phone call. None came. I cried on and off all night. I was shot through. Bleeding out.

An e-mail arrived after a few days. He had been in Kuwait the entire time, participating in the invasion. I began breathing again, but never the same since. My first face-off with war, and war was playing for keeps. What a brutal game.

All these years later, the fight still rages. In the meantime, we have survived work-ups, deployments, an overseas tour in the Middle East, lost teammates, trauma after relentless trauma.

Every time I feel the fear, the powerlessness, the soul-bullet lodged in me, I question the cause as well as the cost. Ultimately, I question God. How could he leave us so cruelly vulnerable?

The theology of war is impossible. I have tried to reconcile my faith with the realities of the fight, the inevitability of cost whenever there is a cause concerned. But the clarity does not come quickly or easily for me.

Because I am a believing person, I must face God in the trenches of my faith, that raw place where I am welcomed to wrestle but rarely given the satisfaction of airtight answers.

Efforts of men such as my husband and his teammates produce fresh wells, schools, medical care, safety. These same efforts produce death, violence, damaged minds, damaged bodies. Very little is black and white.

I wrestle over Scriptures such as Ecclesiastes 3: "There is a time to die ... a time for mourning ... a time for war ... God is making all things beautiful in its time ... yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end."

The most difficult thing in all the world is to see a young life snatched up right before you, an entire community left to work through ravaging grief. What could you possibly say to a young widow that would ever assuage, even one tiny bit, her vast loss?

Let me tell you, a sentiment does not exist.

How could any kind of beauty emerge from this kind of pain?

When Steve went to Iraq for the second time, in 2006, I watched him ride the airport escalator to his terminal. I watched every bit of him go, until the heels of his shoes disappeared. I knew there was a chance I’d never see him alive again.

Would I open the casket to see his face one last time if he were killed? I remained haunted by that question.

I crawled into the trenches – weary and wounded – and I seethed at God, spewing out my hatred for the war. I had to accept the fact that my faith wasn’t going to save my husband from harm. A bitter pill.

So what was I believing in then?

I have seen young widows – 25 years old – survive. I have seen war-torn marriages heal. I have seen battered veterans recover.

Perhaps this is the divine beauty-making I am trusting in, a God who puts things back together after they have been so deeply damaged.

I spoke a vow to Steve that promised only death would part us. I had no idea when I took that vow that death could loom so imminently. I had no idea how deeply disastrous our bond would feel on some days. I had no idea how violently this war would break my heart. And I had no idea that God himself would crawl into the trenches with me, binding and bandaging my brokenness.

In this way, I am able to keep going. Hating, loving and asking for the grace to navigate the mystery.

a fighter, and then some.

2011-01-15T19:36:00.000-08:00

So our dear, sweet Fletcher had some pretty major surgery on Friday to de-bulk the tumor on his face. Right now he looks a little like Frankenpuppy as the stitches run from about 1" after his nose to below the back corner of his eye. Like I said, seriously major surgery.

And you know what? Our little guy was wagging his tail before he was even fully out of anesthesia. And the Vet cleared him to go home that night. So he's been lounging around the house all weekend with the hubs and I dutifully checking in on him every 10-15 minutes. He drools a bit and his wounds need a lot of supervision. But he is such a little fighter. He is perky and wagging his tail all day long, jumping up on me to go outside or just for extra attention. He's eating like a horse and, all in all, I am just totally in awe of this little guy. I figured for sure he would have had to spend the night at the Vet. I thought for sure he would be sleeping every minute of this weekend. Instead, he's begging for a peanut butter filled Kong and standing on top of the hubs hovering for attention.

Fletcher's strength and toughness and sheer will is just so amazing. This sweet and sometimes timid little furball has turned into a badass when it comes to kicking this tumor's butt. I know this won't last forever, and this surgery wasn't a cure. But it did give us all a lot more time together and one more chance to marvel at how incredible this little guy is. Viva la Fletcher!

(Fletcher and me in Savannah, GA last year.)

dude.

2011-01-15T07:44:00.001-08:00

I SWEAR I saw my camera battery charger some time in the last 3 months, and now, for the life of me, I cannot find it. Moving messes with your head. You remember seeing something but don’t recall if it was at the new place or the old place. And then you spend 2 weeks looking for one stinking thing and have zero luck finding it. This weekend, it is my mission to locate that damned charger before it drives me to the brink of insanity. Obviously, this explains the serious lack of photos on this blog, right?

So tell me folks, what are the things that have gone inexplicably MIA in your moves/PCSs? Remotes? (Yes, we are missing some of those too) Hardware for curtains? (Took 3 weeks to find those) Kitchen gadgets? Tools? (Took us a week to find those) Share and help me feel better about not managing this move better.

is there a ban on birth control in LA?

2011-01-13T17:20:00.000-08:00

So I’ll willingly admit to reading celebrity fashion/gossipy blogs. I don’t buy People or Us Weekly or whatever… but I totally check out online sites like Pink is the New Blog and Go Fug Yourself and Tom & Lorenzo. I call it quiet time for my brain. Therefore I know more celebrity crap than I should. And I suspect that useless knowledge about this sort of stuff is pushing out important information like basic math skills. Ah well, c’est la vie.

BUT. Here is where I get all judgy. I mean, yes, they are celebrities and they live under a microscope and that must suck and I wouldn’t want everyone on the planet judging my lifestyle and/or clothing choices… but then again, this is sort of the B-side to being FAMOUS, no? But, back on track. What the hell is the deal with every known celebrity lady getting all preggers sans husband (that would be you Ms. Hudson and Ms. Richie). Or the not so sly "I’m pregnant AND engaged!" (Yes, I’m looking at you Ms. Portman and you Ms. Cruz and you Ms. Hayek, Ms. Kerr) I mean, do these folks miss out on the day in Health class where they go over Sex Ed? Or did they miss every PSA out there about this stuff. Did they not at least watch ONE episode of Teen Mom? (Because I just know y’all have watched just one. Everyone has watched at least one. Don’t play.) I mean, come on! Even Britney Spears and Pink and skanky Christina Aguilera got the order on this one right! What’s the deal folks?

Now, this is not to imply that I think folks who get knocked up out of wedlock are wrong or bad or whatever. I’m not advocating Scarlet Letters or anything. I just don’t get the recent rash of (presumably) reasonably intelligent women with a lot of money seemingly unable to avoid getting knocked up. Are celebrities immune to birth control pills? When did this become the norm?

I hesitated to write this as I didn’t want to get too preachy sounding because, well, that isn’t the point. To each his (or in this case, her) own. I just think that it is weird when I see a news story about Jewel and Ty Murray or Rachel Zoe and Rodger getting preggs… I think woah! A married couple announcing they are having a baby. You don’t see that every day! Which, coincidentally, makes me sound like I’m 84. But you get my point.

So what do y’all think about this? Does this trend seem weird to you or am I just prematurely old-fashioned? Come be judgy with me in the comments!

never say never.

2011-01-12T17:07:00.001-08:00

Like how once I said that I would never miss Texas. Yeah, I lied. Sorry. I do miss Texas… or at least parts of Texas. I miss the GINORMOUS Commissary and PX at Fort Hood. Oh how I miss them. Like, long for and yearn for them. No grocery store comes close and loosing Hood’s Commissary has left a hole in my heart (albeit a small one). I miss Jason’s Deli and 5 Guys and Chipotle and Rosa’s Café. I miss them a lot. This town is majorly lacking in good Mexican inspired food. And delis. And burger joints. Insert very sad face here.

I miss the bugles. There is something terrifically endearing about bugle calls at nearly every hour of the day (I think there might have been 11 different ones at Hood?). I miss the Apaches. Sure, now we have B1s from Ellsworth running routes over our house, but that mostly sounds like the Gates of Doom (or Mordor if you like) are opening up. Apaches are much more pleasant to listen to. Also the B1s and Fletcher are now mortal enemies. Meaning the B1s fly over and Fletcher cowers and hides in the basement for an hour. Good times.

I miss the warmish winters and that spring comes in February, summer in April. Especially since its been so cold here that our digital outdoor thermometer only reads “Lo”. I miss the giant Barnes and Nobles. Borders just isn’t the same. I miss Austin and IKEA. Oh my heavens do I miss having an IKEA within an hour drive. I miss the REI there and Jerry’s Art-a-Rama. I miss the alien landscape full of huge prickly pears and funny dwarf trees… even though I was too much of a scaredy cat to walk around in it. I miss the sunsets. Oh boy do I miss the sunsets. I miss the odd kid/bike overpass behind our house. We walked up there so many times every week, enjoyed the views across post, views of the spectacular sunsets, watched deer, watched Fireworks, watched our crazypants neighbors… good times.

I miss the pomp and circumstance of every day military life. I miss all the cars pulling over at 5 to get out and salute the flag. I miss the big shiny gates and the brightly colored patches adorning every wall, door, overpass, gate and sign. I miss the ACUs and the flags and I miss seeing Homecomings on my way to the PX. I miss the fancy Calvary unit, with the beautiful horses and old-fashioned uniforms. I miss the old, ancient, decrepit track the hubs and I used to run on. The one they have since demolished to make way for a new wing of the hospital.

I miss the leggy and skinny jackrabbits that used to taunt Fletcher. And I miss the giant Class 6 with their make your own six-packs. I miss the wineries and I miss Lampassas. Oh Lampassas, you seem like a dive, but you have 3 of the best restaraunts we ever ate at in our year in Texas (Eve’s Café, Alfredo’s Mexican Restaurant and the Firehouse BBQ). Please, please look them up and make the stop if you are ever near Fort Hood. I miss watching the crazy storms roll in. I miss the downpours.

I also miss driving past the 1^st Cavalry Divisions headquarters and parade ground. Every time I drove past them I was reminded of that precious day the hubs came home from Iraq. I got to relive that moment in almost all its glory every time I drove past that parade field. That was an unexpected gift that I very much miss.

I do not, however, miss the hub’s unit. Nor do I miss those silly Stetsons and strap-on spurs. I don’t miss the “waterbugs” (aka: COCKROACHES YOU FOOLS!) and I don’t miss the snakes. Or the spiders. Or the crickets that invade every minute opening in your home. I don’t miss the oppressive heat. And I don’t miss our lawn that turned to prickly dried straw some time in June. I don’t miss watching other units deploy. I don’t miss seeing soldiers gearing up for war. I don’t miss the crazy folk that are inevitably part of the Army. I don’t miss the sign that tallied how many days we had gone without a traffic fatality on post. I don’t miss seeing the sign go back to 1. I don’t miss the rumor mills and the lines and the nitpicky paperwork. I don’t miss the noisy neighbors and the paper-thin walls of Army-issue housing. I don’t miss the sweaty PTs that always littered the house. And I don’t miss the 5 am wake-ups.

But, yes, despite my best efforts, I find myself missing the Lone Star state. And you know what brought all this on? Cleaning out my purse. Because I haven’t done it since before we left Texas. Yep, receipts to Jason’s Deli and Rosa’s Café brought all this on. Now who is the crazypants one?

thanks Pandora.

2011-01-12T17:06:00.000-08:00

For playing me some old school Nelly today and transporting me back to frat parties at Beloit. Pandora Rocks.

for my birthday...

2011-01-11T20:34:00.000-08:00

I turned 32 today. I got lots of sweet presents, but the only thing missing was this shirt. Now THAT would be an awesomesauce present.

ETA: Since a few of you love this as much as I do, here is the link. BUT. I'm warning you, it is a European site (store is in Amsterdam I think?) and I don't know how easy it would be to order it. In any case, if you do order it, you are under STRICT orders to send a photo. Mmkay? Good. Happy shopping!

little house on the prairie.

2011-01-06T16:19:00.000-08:00

So lately the hubs and I have been talking about going old school... trading in our jobs and all the crap that goes along with them for a simpler life. You know, orchards, gardens, acreage, chickens, goats, canning, little house on the prairie stuff. Crazy, I know. Of course, me being the total pansy that I am, I put in a cable/internet/travel stipulation... but if we saved up for a couple of years we really could buy some land, build a house and then live off of the hub's pension and disability checks. Crazypants, right?

But then again... maybe not so crazypants. I mean, we love the outdoors, we totally want all of these things regardless of our job situation, and why wouldn't we give it a go if we could afford it? It would give him a chance to do the things he loves (essentially all outdoorsy things) and for me to do the same. I'd be able to be crafty and artsy and cook again. It would be a semi-charmed life for sure. However, the pragmatist in me isn't too keen on us only having one smallish income... so in my ideal world, I'd be able to swing a sweet part-time job that would be enough for pocket change. Then again, if we were able to save enough in the meantime, we could buy the land/house outright (or close to) so that our bills weren't much to speak of. Oh heavens, are we crazy?

Anyway, I want to know what your family's pipe dreams are... would you move to Paris? Germany? Would you live on the road in a sweet RV? Would you go all Laura Ingalls Wilder? Or would you skip town and head to the big city lights? And while you are at it... tell me if you think we are crazy for actually considering this?

the thing about grief.

2011-01-04T18:03:00.000-08:00

So if you came here from T&S, you know the deal with my sweet boy Fletcher. He has cancer, we can’t cure it, we can only treat him with low-dose chemotherapy to try to slow the tumor’s growth. When we got the news, I was devastated. I cried for days. I cried because it wasn’t fair, I cried because he doesn’t deserve this, I cried because he is too young for cancer, I cried for all the years we were going to miss with him. And of course, I cried because I was sad. So very, very sad. I cried because I was heartbroken.

We got that news around Thanksgiving. So we’ve been living with the knowledge that we will loose him sooner rather than later for just over a month. And that this horrible, evil tumor would slowly take its hold and some day we would have to do the unthinkable. It is like living with a live grenade… you never quite know when it is going to go off. It is both a blessing and a curse. Knowing that we are going to loose him, likely soon, has helped us spoil him rotten and make the most of whatever time we have left. But knowing is also like running a race with Usain Bolt. It always catches up with you. It is also like living with a gorilla. You can't really forget about it for too long.

And you know what? Every time it catches up with me, it is like hearing the diagnosis for the first time all over again. It knocks the wind right out of me and sends me running for the Kleenex. Oh, I know. He is just a dog. But he is my battle buddy, the one who snuggled with me when I was so, so lonely. The one who sat with me when all I could do was cry because I missed the husband so. The one who made me laugh and smile when the chips were down. The one who kept me company and always greeted me with more exuberance than I probably deserved. He was the broken (literally- toes, tail, teeth) and battered sweet soul that sort of picked me, the one who helped me heal and the one who I helped become whole again. The one who saw far too much meanness, anger and unkindness in his short life. Maybe that helps explain my attachment to the little guy. Then again, I don't need anyone to "get it", do I?

I guess it just amazes me... the process of dealing with grief. From the anticipatory grief of a deployment to the actual grief of loosing a loved one... the grief over something that is inevitable and inescapable, the grief of loosing out on the future. I think sometimes you think that the hardships you've dealt with before prepare you for the hardships that (invariably) lie ahead. And, really, they don't. Each grief is different. Each treats you differently, each torments you differently, each takes its own time with you. I can't look back at any of the other times I've had to deal with this gnarly emotion and say that it has helped meal deal with this one. Which sort of doesn't seem fair.

In any event, the past few days have been awfully rough. I discovered a swollen lymph node below the tumor, which my training tells me is nothing but bad news. And we noticed that his eye on the tumor side is receding (which the Vet told us might happen). In short, the signs are pointing in a direction that I am just so not ready to go. Now, with that said, it doesn't mean we will have to put him down this week, or even this month... but after the past month of seeing him romp and play like nothing is wrong, eat like a horse, be his normal happy puppy-self... this is an all too brutal reminder that it won't last. Some day, not too far from now, we will have to say goodbye to our sweet, loving, happy puppy. And you know what? I am not ready. I don't know that I will ever be ready. And I wonder if I will ever really get over it.

my teensey bit of wisdom for y'all & the new year.

2011-01-01T16:05:00.000-08:00

via Pinterest. And oh-so-true.

an ode to 2010.

2010-12-31T21:49:00.000-08:00

Well, 2010 was one helluva year. Like wow.

I spent most of it in Texas. Which was a trip of spectacular proportions. I got to welcome my husband home after a year apart. That was pretty awesome. Then I learned how to actually live with my husband. That was alternately awesome and challenging. I was unemployed for much of 2010. Which was also alternately awesomesauce (times 100) and terribly boring... but mostly awesomesauce. In 2010 we packed up our home (for the second time) and moved to South Dakota. I got thrust into a Supervisor position that I was SO not ready for. We found out our sweet boy Fletch has cancer that can't be cured. In short, it was one helluva year, and not all good.

But, my hopes are semi-high for 2011. I know there are going to be massive challenges, both emotional and physical. But I am also hoping for more good luck than bad for the ones I love and for more calmness and stability. I hope for normal routines in 2011. And less drama.

2011 will be the first full year my hubby is out of the Army, no deployments, no reintegration, no chains being jerked by the DoD (Ha! Just the VA now!). It will be the year we settle down (as much as we can) and it will hopefully be the year good friends get pregnant, family stays healthy, kids get back on track, and puppies make spectacular recoveries. This will be the year other friends bring beautiful babies into the world and the year new traditions are made. This, come hell or high water, will be a good year.

And to that, I say to you... Cheers.

Enjoy your New Year and may this one be the best one yet. And Go Bucky!

teach me how to bucky.

2010-12-28T17:52:00.000-08:00

Go Badgers! Kick some TCU ass in the Rose Bowl!

howdy and how do you do?

2010-12-27T18:20:00.000-08:00

So this is the new blog. Welcome!

Why? Because my old blog just wasn't hacking it anymore. I started it up because I needed a place to vent about the military life that my sweet husband dragged me into. And holy Hannah, that blog did wonders for me... I met the most amazing folks, got to talk about all the stuff that was on my mind, got to rant about the Army to folks who knew all to well what I meant. I got to plug in to the community I was geographically detached from. It was a lifeline for me before and during the deployment that marked the first year of my marriage. But, now that I'm not a military spouse anymore, now that we have closed that chapter on our lives, that old friend of a blog didn't feel like the truest representation of me anymore. Plus it felt really hard to change the course of things... I tried... and every time I blogged about superfluous things I felt like I wasn't being true to the spirit and intent of Tucker & Swiss. So here I sit, at a new blog address, ready to try this again.

I can't say what, exactly, the content will be. But I can say it will be full of the things and people I love. Full of the random content of my noggin. And, hopefully, full of joy and humor. I hope, sincerely, that this will be a place that you enjoy coming to, a place that sparks your creativity, a place that brings a smile to your face, and a place that you find brightens your day.

So, welcome and I hope to see you around!

xo,
Tucker