I Wanna Be President!

So here's today's thought....hold on its a doozy!
I've mentioned before how when someone hears you are an Army wife, they start asking your opinion on political matters. There is of course, the economy, Don't Ask/Don't tell, an my favorite Border Patrol!

Now, I'll say one more time, being an Army wife does not give us the inside track to the White House. So our opinions really aren't any more important than any other US Citizen. If they were, you would have seen an Army wife in the White House by now!

I've previously stated my opinion on Don't Ask/Don't Tell, and it remains the same. I DON'T CARE. So, since these other topics seem to be of dire need of my opinion,
lets discuss them, lol.

In a perfect world, we wouldn't have the need for such things as Border Patrol, INS, and Homeland Security. But....we don't live in a perfect world, we live in America.

I will admit before 9/11 I could care less who came and went within our borders.
My favorite movie quote was from Clueless: IT DOES NOT SAY RSVP ON THE STATUE OF LIBERTY!~ (yes I quoted Clueless,don't judge me!)
I fully believe that anyone who is truly searching for a better life, should be free to find it. I don't care where you come from, what you look like, and what your religion, you should be welcome to achieve that dream, and we should be free to welcome you to that life.
Now the problem here, isn't good people who want a good life. But people who want to cheat the system.

So when I run for President, my border patrol platform will be this:
You have 90 days to declare yourself. All CURRENTLY within the borders, will have Amnesty, up until that point. If you have not declared yourself, within that timeline, it will be assumed you have a reason for not wanting to be recognized as a US Citizen. One would have total freedom, be here legally, and take advantage of all we have to offer, unless something darker is on their agenda?

Now what about after 90 days, and the illegals coming in the borders?
Now I know all illegals do NOT come from Mexico, for one to assume this is prejudicial and morally wrong. However, since the vast majority do come from Mexico/Central America, I will use this as a reference.

The US spends billions of dollars each year attempting to secure the borders, deportation and other random immigration related charges. Border patrol agents are currently supposed to cover a 1969 mile stretch. Now, the border between Mexico and its neigboring countries Belize and Guatemala are a mere estimated 674 miles.
How much easier would it be to patrol almost 1300 LESS miles?
Yes I know I sound crazy, but hear me out...

If we took the money we spend annually and put it towards the purchase of Mexico, we could be out of the red in no time. Now I'm not saying we make Mexico a state, just merely a US Territory. We could then profit on tourism, the massive import/export opportunities and in this one location, I would advise legalization of drugs.
Mexico has a HUGE drug situation. The legalization of drugs would not only shut down the cartels, but make a huge profit for the country itself.
Don't get me wrong, in most instances I AM COMPLETELY AGAINST DRUG USE! However,I do believe in this area the best option would be legalization.

Now I know there will be a lot of people who read this and think, I've lost my marbles, but I'm ok with that. They may be right.
Like I said, my opinion doesn't matter anymore than anyone else.

However, I think I would make an awesome president. Not only for Border Patrol, but Naked Fridays are sure to be a hit.

So when you hit the voting booths, think Army Wife! (Be careful of the Marine's though, those women are crazy! Just kidding, seriously put down the weapon Um...Semper Fi?)

I Don't....

When people hear you are an Army Wife, the first question is usually, "oh, is he here with you?" When you say no, he's deployed, the conversation can go a couple of different ways. Occasionally you get the hateful remarks with reference to "fighting another mans war" and those are disheartening, but I don't typically take them personally. But, for the most part, the response is something to the effect of
"oh wow, how are you, are you ok, and how do you do it?"

The response, to these questions are pretty well canned responses at this point.
I'm good, it's rough, and it's not easy". Although I am grateful for their concern, regardless of how I sound, there are just not many answers you can give to these questions.

The most interesting statement, I've heard is how do you stay so strong? While again, I do welcome a compliment of this nature, there is still only one response....

I Don't.

People look at me and think I am harsh, rigid and sometimes downright hard. Maybe I am. I appear strong, because I don't have a choice. Now I'm not saying I can't hold my own, but I have my moments just like everybody else. I'm not an emotional person, but I do have emotions. I prefer, movies with lots of explosions, action, and excitement, but even I like the occasional love scene.

I'm not as "strong" as some would like to believe. In all honesty, I think I hit the wrong side of crazy a long time ago. But, I do the only thing I can, I tell the voices to shut up or I'll stab them with a Q-Tip. (seriously, just kidding...I don't condone violence)

So the better question to ask Army wives, is simply.....do you have enough Ammo? When is your follow up appt? and Do you know what day it is???

If she says yes, gives you a date, and tells you the right day (with in 2-3 days of accuracy) then its safe to proceed with the conversation.

If she says No, I don't have one, and its the day I pistol whip your ass with my unloaded handgun, there's a good chance you should discontinue this conversation, and possibly relocate.

I WANNA BLOW STUFF UP!

After a lot of thought and careful consideration regarding my career path, I've decided a change may be in order.

Here I am with a constantly deployed husband, 3 small children and a relatively useless degree in Legal Studies. Now a sane person, would think, the next step is Law School, right? Luckily for all of us, I'm not that sane.

I WANNA BLOW STUFF UP!

Now I'm not saying that in a Terroristic Fashion. Burkas will make me look too hippy and there's the whole exploding head thing, so suicide bombing just isn't for me.

I could of course, join the military, but when they yelled at me at 5 am, and I(accidentally) "busted a cap in their ass", I'm thinking that may not have the best outcome one would hope for either. Besides, since I had a degree, I would attempt to go in as an officer, which would be bad for several reasons. The biggest....I already outrank my husband at home, is it fair for me to pull rank at work?? (hi honey)

I could, look into Construction work, obviously. I've always had a dream of sitting on a platform yelling sexually explicit profanity at strange men walking by, not to mention the awesome tan. Ohhhh, and the bulldozers! But, that looks like it may be physically exhausting, and it gets hot outside. I'm obviously a very delicate female (stop laughing!) and I just don't know if its for me.

So....what can I do with my life. I like to sleep in, temperature must stay between 70-80 degrees with a low humidity. I don't like "uniforms" that make me look hippy, I have a useless legal degree, and I wanna blow stuff up.

Maybe I could do freelance work.

Letter To Bin Laden

I found this online and thought it was too funny not to share. I don't know where it originated but it just makes some good points!

WATCH IT, BIN LADEN. WE JUST MAY BE CRAZIER THAN YOU

To those extremists that perpetrated this crime against our nation, I have a warning for you. There are those of us who look at your actions as irrational, twisted, and completely inhuman. By all measures, what you have done can only be seen as insane. I have news for you. We're more nuts than you, and it should scare you s***less.

You may think that when you die for your cause, you go to Paradise with 72 virgins, can leave reservations for 70 members of your family, all your sins are forgiven, and you sit at the side of Allah. Big deal. We had 39 guys who rented a Beverly Hills mansion, cut off their nuts, built a web site, and proceeded to poison themselves to death to hitch a ride with aliens out on the Hale-Bopp comet.

You shoot guns into the sky to celebrate victories over enemies, and people are killed by the bullets raining down on them. We not only do this for New Year's Eve in some cities, but we burn houses down, tear up streets, loot and sack our stores, and beat our selves senseless when our sports teams win championships. Sports teams! We made a sequel to Police Academy 5. We gave an award for singing to two guys who never even sang. We put little sweaters on dogs. We shot John Lennon six times and didn't even aim for Yoko Ono. We think Elvis is still alive. We put Braille on drive-up automatic teller machines. We think that a simple button on a web site that says "Do not click if you're under 21" will do anything but cause a person under 21 to click on it. We take a large chunk of the island on which those buildings you destroyed sat and pretend that it isn't a part of our country after all, let people fly in to our airports that we want to kill, drive them in limousines to speak against us on this "pretend territory" land, let them drive back to our airport, and let them fly them back home without a scratch. We sell hot dogs in packages of ten and the buns in packages of eight.

We can't even decide if pitchers should have to bat for themselves or not. All those baseball fields we've got. none of them are even remotely the same size. We gave millions of dollars to a guy that told us that God was going to kill him if he didn't raise enough money. When he didn't get enough money, he didn't die. So we gave him more money in celebration of the fact that God didn't make him die. We've managed to keep the formulas for Coca-Cola and Kentucky Fried Chicken secret for decades, we encrypt the most banal communications on our Information

Superhighway, and yet we given away our most important nuclear secrets to the Chinese and Russians at the drop of a hat.

And yet, with all this on the A-1 Psycho balance sheet, you still think you're more nuts than us that this won't result in your complete and utter annihilation? One way or another, your way of life will be over, period.

Freedom's kind of a crazy, kooky, nutty thing when you look really close at it and all the bizarre and loony things that can result from it, but it's better than any other ideas anybody else has come up with. It's been that way since 1776, and built to last no matter how insanely we try to screw it up on a daily basis.

We are even so nuts and ruthless enough as a nation to start insanely tearing at those of ourselves that even remotely resemble you in such rancorous, deplorable, and angry ways that will make you wonder if Allah has enough glue to piece enough of you back together for a flesh paperweight in Paradise. We may not know where you are now, but when we do I guarantee you that the majority of our high school children will still have no idea where on the globe where you are or where you will end up being buried. But we will send them anyway, and we will allow those of them that went into the armed services because they didn't manage to get into college *still* rain down Hell and fire on your worthless hides. It will all come down on you, because we're nuts enough to give all four of our branches of military services extremely powerful and deadly aircraft even though only one of them is actually called the Air Force.

Picking a fight with the most insane nation on Earth with the hope that your message and influence will spread throughout the world, well, that's just downright stupid.

Conspiracy!

I've decided there is some sort of Army wide conspiracy just to piss me off, or drive me crazy at the least.
At times I imagine a council, of sorts. All sitting around a table, taking votes "all in favor say I, all opposed say nay!"

In general, there are very few things will set me off. So I believe the game plan is to see how many little irksome things can be piled on top of each other to create one mass clusterf@#$.

In all my time with the Army, Lord knows I've dealt with insane issues. For the most part, I've handled it pretty well....I believe. We've had deployment after deployment. Babies and surgeries, alone. Insane late night phonecalls from concerned spouses. Emails from moms, dads, and in-laws wanting random information. Break-ins and even a drive by shooting and I've never really complained, and I've definitely never crumbled.

So...after all this time, I've decided IF YOU CAN'T BEAT THEM, JOIN THEM.

From now on, I will be the wife who calls Rear D because her toilet won't flush. I think I will call the FRG Leader at 3 am, because I am concerned for my missing cat. Then at 4, I will call her back because I realized I don't even have a cat. I will call the hospital appointment line to schedule a blood pressure check, then strip down and tell them I need a physical instead. When they refuse and tell me to get dressed, I will call Rear D. Why? I DON'T KNOW!
I think I will call housing, because there is a racoon stealing my underwear, and I wanna know what they are gonna do about it. Then I'm gonna call ACS, tell them I wanna sign up for soccer. When they tell me I dialed the wrong number, I'm gonna yell at them for picking up the wrong phone.
I'm going to call the MP station and tell them my deaf neighbor is making too much noise, and complain because the blind one keeps driving over my bushes.
Then, I think I will call everybody in the troop, and tell them how AMWAY has changed my life.

So to all you who I know are plotting against me......YOU CAN NEVER OUT CRAZY ME!

Now if you'll excuse me, there is something with a child-proof cap that is calling my name.

Day 2

Well its been over 24 hours now since my hubby has headed back to the other side of the world. Last night was a long night. My youngest comes to me at bed time and says
"mommy, since daddy's goed byebye, I should sleep in yous bed". *smile*
So, once I put her in her OWN bed, I turned in for a night of tossing and turning.
Finally about midnight, and after a strategically timed sedative, I got some rest.

I rise early this morning, with a mental list of all I need to get done. I am not ashamed (well maybe a little bit) to admit, these last 2 weeks, I have done absolutely nothing. On a normal day, my floors are mopped, laundry is done and bathrooms are cleaned. I have done NOTHING since he was home. So today I get my groove back.

Floors done, laundry started, dishes washed, lunches made, kids off to school. Woohooo! I'm on a roll. Thats all done, so now what?

I think I will redecorate the Bathroom!! So I head off to the local Wal-Mart, which is of course where all the uber-classy Army wives go for bathroom decor. I'm off to a good start.
New Rug-Check
New Seat Cover-Check

Now its off to the decorations and scented candles. This is where I get distracted.
I couldn't find just the right decor for to match the vision I have for my potty, so I head to the candles. As I'm looking at all the different types, scents and arrangements, I catch a glimpse of the food scented candles. Now I understand, these candles aren't "necessarily" for the bathroom and can be placed anywhere in the home.
However, I can honestly say, I've never thought to myself.....

"do you know what would make pooping even better....pumpkin pie". So now that I will never look at pie the same way, I've settled on a grapefruit medley that will be both pleasing in aroma, and makes me feel a bit healthier for having it.

There's a good chance I should not be left unsupervised on a regular basis. I wonder what epiphany I will have on Day 3?

And We're Back

The appearance of the "uniform" has an odd effect on a person. You see a police uniform, you immediately slow down. A fireman, you look for smoke, a soldier....your heart drops.

Got up early today, took my shower, got dressed and walked downstairs to see my husband in uniform sitting on the couch with 2 of our 3 children. He had gotten them up early, gotten them dressed and tried to spend the last few moments he had with them.

After everybody was ready to go, he picked up his backpack and we headed to the truck. That drive to the airport seemed to take forever, but flashby at the same time. He drove quietly, as I played with my cellphone. The giggling from the backseat reminds you of what they are sacrificing. The silence in the front seats was deafening. Only broken up by the occasional sigh, and generic conversation.

We arrive at the airport, check in, and head to the terminals. Luckily the family members are allowed to wait with the soldier until boarding. I can remember a time, not long ago, when we weren't allowed that opportunity. The kids occupy themselves by watching airplanes, singing silly songs and pestering other soldiers awaiting their flights.

Finally, after about 2 hours they make the boarding call, and reality sets in. My husband gives his final goodbyes and goes to stand in line. You look at the line and see not one, not two, but more than a dozen soldiers standing in line to board the same flight. The numbers themselves are disheartening.

My two youngest are calm. They've occupied themselves with the airplanes and countdowns to Christmas. My son uses it as a marker for when Daddy will be back. How many days til Christmas mommy? So how many days after Santa will daddy be home?
My oldest however took it pretty hard. She's just old enough to really start to understand why daddy is gone. She understands his purpose for leaving, but that doesn't make the pain go away. She cries, and makes a run for the boarding line for one last hug. We wait for a few minutes and his line to board seems to be in slow motion. So the kids get antsy, and they all want daddy. Why is he just standing there? Can we give him another hug? I finally agree to sneak them over for one last goodbye.

The most touching part of the farewell, wasn't the soldier holding back tears. Wasn't the children who weren't fully aware of the surroundings, and it wasn't even the heartbroken little girl. But it was a stranger. An older woman, sitting alone watching the situation unfold. I'm walking away from my husband, trying to usher my 3 children back to the window to see the planes, and I see her. Fighting back tears of her own. She looks at them, looks at me and just whispers a simple "I'm so sorry" while large tears stream down her cheek.

Its funny, I hear things like "I feel so bad for you", "tell your husband thank you", and "I don't know how you do it", but nothing matches that statement. I don't believe she has any reason to be sorry. I don't think I deserve to hear her say she is sorry. But for the FIRST time ever, it seemed someone outside my boat was able to feel my pain. Finally, somebody gets it. I walked on, continued my attempts at lighthearted conversation until the plane disappeared, and we left the airport.

My children, dried their tears and being the little soldiers they are, returned to school. I went to the commissary, made dinner and put them to bed. Nearly 12 hours later, I close my door, breathe deeply, and shed a tear. Odds are, it will be one of very few tears I shed. Not because I don't want to cry, but because we aren't afforded the luxury.

Tomorrow morning, I will rise, get the kids ready for school and we will soldier on.