I love fall. The beautiful colors, the cooler air, the smell of the great outdoors. Yummy. I also love the upcoming events in the next month. So here is a list of things I am looking forward to:
1) In 11 days the USMC will celebrate another birthday. I love it! Not sure what our plans will be, but I'll find a way to make it special for my Marine. Never did make it to a USMC ball...oh well.
2) Veterans Day is the day after the USMC birthday (which is November 10th btw) and I look forward to celebrating another year with my vet.
3) New Moon premier! (It is the second movie in the Twilight saga if you are unaware.) Been planning on this one for awhile too. I look forward to a night of fun with my Alabama girls. They are my sanity in a place that has taken a lot of getting used to for this Northern girl. I'm so thankful for each of them.
4)Turtle's birthday is coming up and for a few short months he isn't that much younger than me...at least by the numbers anyhow. Better start figuring out a way to make it special.
5)Thanksgiving! I love this holiday (not as much as the 4th of July, but it is still cool) mostly b/c you make a lot of food and you eat and celebrate with friends and family. Ever since we moved away from my blood relatives my friends have become my family and I am happy to say I have family spread across the US at this point. What a lucky girl I am. Truly. This year we have plans to help a friend celebrate his first Thanksgiving as a US citizen. .oO(Wonder if this means another trashcan turkey?)
6) Spring Break 2010!! (March sometime) I can hardly wait. We already have a confirmed reservation from Combs. Wooohooo. I think my dream tradition may become a reality. (I don't know if I want to talk about it just in case it doesn't happen....eeek.) Invites have been sent out to all "my boys" and we have tentative acceptances from a few others. I hope that my boys can gather here in Alabama for Spring Break. Even if we just get Combs here it will be fun, but oh the fun we could have with the whole crew. I already told Bivins I was taking the time that the boys are here off from work. I don't want to miss out on a minute of the fun. I can hardly wait. .oO(Think about the Disneyworld commercials of the kids and parents being "too excited to sleep." Yeah, that will be me when plans are a little more solid and March is a little closer.)
Friday, October 30, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Where the Wild Bivins' Are ~Commentary
Facebook Readers: Please scroll to the bottom and click on "view original post" so that your reading enjoyment is enhanced by getting the full picture of this post. Facebook doesn't always import links and videos included in my original blog postings. I apologize now for the length of this post. It took two days to create and I became rather verbose.
Ok, many of you know that I have been counting down the days until I could go watch "Where the Wild Things Are" in the theater. Since I saw the first trailer in March I have been reading and viewing anything I can get my hands on about its premier. I became a fan of Where the Wild Things Are Movie on Facebook so that I could see all of the updates. I watched all of the trailers numerous times in sweet anticipation. I was truly excited about this movie and after viewing the movie I am happy to say that I still am. If perhaps you have been living under a rock or your own Wild Things world then you can click here to see the original trailer. And it is obligatory that at the end of the trailer you raise your fist in the air and howl, understood? Ok, good.
My love of Where the Wild Things Are began in elementary school. I loved the story of Max becoming King of the Wild Things and all of the imagined adventures he had as such. (Let's be real people...Maurice Sendak's book is only 10 sentences long so the only character really developed is Max's and the Wild Things are merely shown in pictures.) I remember loving the beautiful illustrations and thinking how fun it might be to be a Queen of the Wild Things. I also remember how much fun my teachers had with this book. I remember truly amazing wall and door decorations created by my teachers, often during Right to Read month (the month of March by the way). It is a book that I feel sparked my imagination about a world of fun that every child would love to disappear into at some point. A world where only fun exists and no adults, because let's face it there are many times during childhood (and adolescence) where you feel like life would be sooooo much better without adults around.
I loved this book then and I love this book now. Although now when I read this book my adult mind analyzes it in ways that my childlike mind never did. When this book was released it was surrounded in controversy and oddly enough the movie has been too. I never really understood why people get so hyper about books-so hyper they advocate for books to be banned from school libraries and curriculum. What are you teaching a child when you ban a book from their library? (Seriously, if you have an answer I'd love one.) Banned books are typically fictional stories-or at least the ones that receive the most publicity in the process of becoming banned. I can understand not wanting your child to read a certain story until they reach a certain level of cognitive development. I'm with you on that, but to ban a book entirely seems like such a waste. Teach your child to analyze what they read and the fact that there isn't any harm in escaping to a world of make believe in a book, but that reality does in fact exist. *Ahem,* I'll get off my teacher-wanna-be-librarian soapbox now. Sorry for the mini rant. I just don't get it, never have.
In watching the movie of "Where the Wild Things Are" you must understand that this movie isn't going to merely bring Sendak's 10 sentences to life. If you want a movie that does that you should probably stick to watching Reading Rainbow. If you want to watch a movie that takes the heart of Sendak's story and melds it with a deeper look at childhood, families, adolescence, and so many other things then this is a movie you will love. If you're ready to take that journey to a world of Wild Things only to realize that even there life is troubled then this is a movie for you. I truly LOVED this movie. It transformed me back into a carefree kid ready to tackle the world, all the while knowing that life isn't always perfect-people get mad, you hurt other people's feelings, and people leave, but oh the joy that comes from running, jumping, building a fort, putting holes in trees, and throwing dirt clods at each other. You can count on me owning this movie when it finally comes out on DVD. The Wild Things are so beautifully crafted and watching Max interact with them you become part of the story. Below is Sendak's thoughts on his book and spike Jonze's interpretation of his book...pretty interesting if you ask me.
Should you take your kid to see this movie? I don't know. I would say it depends on how old your child might be and how discerning a viewer they are. There is definitely an undertone of sorrow in this movie. If your child is enthralled with happy endings and is sheltered in the bubble that life is perfect-nope your child shouldn't see this movie. If your child is old enough to realize that life isn't always perfect, heartbreak happens, and sometimes no matter how much we want it to a happy ending isn't going to happen then I think your child would love this movie. If you're still really worried then do that thing you do as a great parent-view the movie first and then decide or talk to a parent whose opinion you trust who has seen the movie, duh.
And now *drum roll please* on to our adventure in going to watch "Where the Wild Things Are." Our night began by meeting up with Noah, Tyler, Lezlie, and Marilyn. (Noah and Tyler are Bivins' friends from high school and Lezlie and Marilyn are friends of Noah's we met that night.) We started out at Buffalo Wild Wings so that we could grab some dinner before the movie and still be close to the theater. Bivins, Tyler and I were the first to arrive so we grabbed a table and some drinks while we waited. Finally, Noah, Lezlie, and Marilyn arrived and we ordered dinner. I was hungry by this point because all I had eaten that day was an apple fritter at 9am and it was now 8pm. (Not by choice, I just didn't have time to eat anything else all day.) Halfway through dinner we realize we need to go buy tickets for the show so Bivins and Noah head over to the theater to do that. They stop at the car along the way and pick up Bivins' Max suit. They come back into BW's and the crowd begins to stare at Bivins. I wish I could have taken a picture of the man across from our table because he openly stared with a "what on earth" kind of look. Apparently he wasn't a Where The Wild Things Are fan. (This was really preparation for the movie, becoming like a child again where all of the adults misunderstand you. Yeah, that's it.) Bivins has had enough beer at this point to feel 10ft tall and as such decides to go to the bar to order a drink in his Max suit. (This step isn't recommended for those under age 21. Mmm-k?) I, as the dutiful wife and ever diligent record keeper, sent Noah along with the camera. This event must be recorded! (It should be noted I wanted to wear my Max suit to dinner, but I knew there was no way that the waitress would believe I was legitimately 27 years old in a Max suit and I knew I really wanted a beer so I left my Max suit in the car.)
Pause for Bivins' silly story: He goes up to the bar to order his drink and is apparently standing in front of some guy's chair. The guy is kind of irritated and says "excuse me." Bivins moves so the guy can sit down. There is (in Bivins' words) a kind of hippie type chick sitting across from this guy. She is sitting on her stool indian style with her legs crossed (criss cross apple sauce style, yanno?) The guy then says "what are you anyway?" and Bivins reply is "I'm f*cking MAX!" The guy kinda rolls his eyes and the chick says "Like from Where the Wild Things Are?" (in a super excited in the know kinda voice.) And the guy takes his drink and walks away. Haha! The chick and Bivins proceed to have a conversation about the fact he is headed to the movie since it came out today. (See the guy seated in front of Bivins? Yeah that's Mr. Cranky Pants and the girl across from him in the flowery shirt? Yeah, that is hippie chick.)
Ok, so the boys return to the table and we finish our drinks and head over to the theater. The rest of the story shall be told in pictures...
We're HERE!
The Whole Gang of Wild Things!
ROAR!
Awwwww, new kissy pic!
Ok, in case you are still debating about going to see the movie you should read this article. Once you are watching the movie it is truly important that you allow yourself to be absorbed into the world of the Wild Things. (I wanted to reach out and pet the Wild Things.) And again, you must raise your fist and howl when the Wild Things and Max all do so at the edge of the cliff, ok? It is vital to the enjoyment of this movie. (Ok, maybe not, but it still makes it a lot of fun.) Enjoy and "Let the Wild Rumpus Start!"
P.S. One last thing. Zeke made a cameo appearance in the movie. One of the Wild Things is shown holding and petting a cat that looks like he could be Zeke's twin. (Can't remember if it was Douglas or Alexander. Random note: Sendak named each of the Wild Things after members of his family. Jonze's Wild Things also have names, but they are not Sendak's original names.) I think I better talk to Spike (who names their child Spike? no wonder he interpreted the story so well) about some royalty money...
Ok, many of you know that I have been counting down the days until I could go watch "Where the Wild Things Are" in the theater. Since I saw the first trailer in March I have been reading and viewing anything I can get my hands on about its premier. I became a fan of Where the Wild Things Are Movie on Facebook so that I could see all of the updates. I watched all of the trailers numerous times in sweet anticipation. I was truly excited about this movie and after viewing the movie I am happy to say that I still am. If perhaps you have been living under a rock or your own Wild Things world then you can click here to see the original trailer. And it is obligatory that at the end of the trailer you raise your fist in the air and howl, understood? Ok, good.
My love of Where the Wild Things Are began in elementary school. I loved the story of Max becoming King of the Wild Things and all of the imagined adventures he had as such. (Let's be real people...Maurice Sendak's book is only 10 sentences long so the only character really developed is Max's and the Wild Things are merely shown in pictures.) I remember loving the beautiful illustrations and thinking how fun it might be to be a Queen of the Wild Things. I also remember how much fun my teachers had with this book. I remember truly amazing wall and door decorations created by my teachers, often during Right to Read month (the month of March by the way). It is a book that I feel sparked my imagination about a world of fun that every child would love to disappear into at some point. A world where only fun exists and no adults, because let's face it there are many times during childhood (and adolescence) where you feel like life would be sooooo much better without adults around.
I loved this book then and I love this book now. Although now when I read this book my adult mind analyzes it in ways that my childlike mind never did. When this book was released it was surrounded in controversy and oddly enough the movie has been too. I never really understood why people get so hyper about books-so hyper they advocate for books to be banned from school libraries and curriculum. What are you teaching a child when you ban a book from their library? (Seriously, if you have an answer I'd love one.) Banned books are typically fictional stories-or at least the ones that receive the most publicity in the process of becoming banned. I can understand not wanting your child to read a certain story until they reach a certain level of cognitive development. I'm with you on that, but to ban a book entirely seems like such a waste. Teach your child to analyze what they read and the fact that there isn't any harm in escaping to a world of make believe in a book, but that reality does in fact exist. *Ahem,* I'll get off my teacher-wanna-be-librarian soapbox now. Sorry for the mini rant. I just don't get it, never have.
In watching the movie of "Where the Wild Things Are" you must understand that this movie isn't going to merely bring Sendak's 10 sentences to life. If you want a movie that does that you should probably stick to watching Reading Rainbow. If you want to watch a movie that takes the heart of Sendak's story and melds it with a deeper look at childhood, families, adolescence, and so many other things then this is a movie you will love. If you're ready to take that journey to a world of Wild Things only to realize that even there life is troubled then this is a movie for you. I truly LOVED this movie. It transformed me back into a carefree kid ready to tackle the world, all the while knowing that life isn't always perfect-people get mad, you hurt other people's feelings, and people leave, but oh the joy that comes from running, jumping, building a fort, putting holes in trees, and throwing dirt clods at each other. You can count on me owning this movie when it finally comes out on DVD. The Wild Things are so beautifully crafted and watching Max interact with them you become part of the story. Below is Sendak's thoughts on his book and spike Jonze's interpretation of his book...pretty interesting if you ask me.
Should you take your kid to see this movie? I don't know. I would say it depends on how old your child might be and how discerning a viewer they are. There is definitely an undertone of sorrow in this movie. If your child is enthralled with happy endings and is sheltered in the bubble that life is perfect-nope your child shouldn't see this movie. If your child is old enough to realize that life isn't always perfect, heartbreak happens, and sometimes no matter how much we want it to a happy ending isn't going to happen then I think your child would love this movie. If you're still really worried then do that thing you do as a great parent-view the movie first and then decide or talk to a parent whose opinion you trust who has seen the movie, duh.
And now *drum roll please* on to our adventure in going to watch "Where the Wild Things Are." Our night began by meeting up with Noah, Tyler, Lezlie, and Marilyn. (Noah and Tyler are Bivins' friends from high school and Lezlie and Marilyn are friends of Noah's we met that night.) We started out at Buffalo Wild Wings so that we could grab some dinner before the movie and still be close to the theater. Bivins, Tyler and I were the first to arrive so we grabbed a table and some drinks while we waited. Finally, Noah, Lezlie, and Marilyn arrived and we ordered dinner. I was hungry by this point because all I had eaten that day was an apple fritter at 9am and it was now 8pm. (Not by choice, I just didn't have time to eat anything else all day.) Halfway through dinner we realize we need to go buy tickets for the show so Bivins and Noah head over to the theater to do that. They stop at the car along the way and pick up Bivins' Max suit. They come back into BW's and the crowd begins to stare at Bivins. I wish I could have taken a picture of the man across from our table because he openly stared with a "what on earth" kind of look. Apparently he wasn't a Where The Wild Things Are fan. (This was really preparation for the movie, becoming like a child again where all of the adults misunderstand you. Yeah, that's it.) Bivins has had enough beer at this point to feel 10ft tall and as such decides to go to the bar to order a drink in his Max suit. (This step isn't recommended for those under age 21. Mmm-k?) I, as the dutiful wife and ever diligent record keeper, sent Noah along with the camera. This event must be recorded! (It should be noted I wanted to wear my Max suit to dinner, but I knew there was no way that the waitress would believe I was legitimately 27 years old in a Max suit and I knew I really wanted a beer so I left my Max suit in the car.)
Pause for Bivins' silly story: He goes up to the bar to order his drink and is apparently standing in front of some guy's chair. The guy is kind of irritated and says "excuse me." Bivins moves so the guy can sit down. There is (in Bivins' words) a kind of hippie type chick sitting across from this guy. She is sitting on her stool indian style with her legs crossed (criss cross apple sauce style, yanno?) The guy then says "what are you anyway?" and Bivins reply is "I'm f*cking MAX!" The guy kinda rolls his eyes and the chick says "Like from Where the Wild Things Are?" (in a super excited in the know kinda voice.) And the guy takes his drink and walks away. Haha! The chick and Bivins proceed to have a conversation about the fact he is headed to the movie since it came out today. (See the guy seated in front of Bivins? Yeah that's Mr. Cranky Pants and the girl across from him in the flowery shirt? Yeah, that is hippie chick.)
Ok, so the boys return to the table and we finish our drinks and head over to the theater. The rest of the story shall be told in pictures...
We're HERE!
The Whole Gang of Wild Things!
ROAR!
Awwwww, new kissy pic!
Ok, in case you are still debating about going to see the movie you should read this article. Once you are watching the movie it is truly important that you allow yourself to be absorbed into the world of the Wild Things. (I wanted to reach out and pet the Wild Things.) And again, you must raise your fist and howl when the Wild Things and Max all do so at the edge of the cliff, ok? It is vital to the enjoyment of this movie. (Ok, maybe not, but it still makes it a lot of fun.) Enjoy and "Let the Wild Rumpus Start!"
P.S. One last thing. Zeke made a cameo appearance in the movie. One of the Wild Things is shown holding and petting a cat that looks like he could be Zeke's twin. (Can't remember if it was Douglas or Alexander. Random note: Sendak named each of the Wild Things after members of his family. Jonze's Wild Things also have names, but they are not Sendak's original names.) I think I better talk to Spike (who names their child Spike? no wonder he interpreted the story so well) about some royalty money...
Monday, October 12, 2009
To Be or Not To Be
What am I doing? Ugh. That is the question that has been gnawing at me for over a year now. I left North Carolina with 2 years of teaching experience and about 6 years of retail experience. I have gone back and forth as to which vocation I should plan to do for this next chapter of my life. I'm currently still undecided. I have been chugging away at my retail ventures here in AL until an opportunity arises in the teaching field. I have been frequently checking teaching job opportunities available in my area as well. (Since the day my certification arrived in the mail-back in Sept.-I have been checking the postings on a weekly basis.) Each time I check it I think, "I really should just get my Master's degree." Which brings up the question as to which degree do I obtain?
So, which degree do I obtain folks? Here are your choices: an English MA or a Special Education MA? An English MA would still allow me to teach reading & language arts for grades 7-12, but it also opens the door to teaching at community colleges as well (at least here in Alabama). I think I would enjoy teaching college students. The Special Education MA would pave the way for me to be certified to teach 7-12 Special Education (it may allow me to teach elementary as well, but I rather enjoy the older kids) and it more than triples the amount of job opportunities available to me. Case in point: There are currently 125 job postings in the state of Alabama for certified employees. Of those 125 jobs I counted 17 for Special Education, 1 for a Reading Intervention teacher, and 1 for an English teacher. It should be noted that the Reading Intervention and English teacher postings are for the southern part of Alabama.
I'm leaning towards Special Education, but I just don't know. There have been many things placed in my path to lead me towards Special Education. During my time as a student teacher (you know when you get to be the teacher, but don't get a paycheck), I had the opportunity to work with students who were identified as being exceptional students (students with disabilities-behavior or learning) and I really bonded with them. During my time as a substitute teacher I was sometimes asked to sub for the Special Education teacher. Again, I worked with the students very well. During my time as a teacher in NC I had two inclusion classes both years. An inclusion class is a mixture of regular ed and exceptional ed students and a Special Education teacher also joins the class. The idea is to differentiate or adapt instruction so that the exceptional students can excel, but those adaptations don't take away from what the regular ed students are learning either. (Well, in a nutshell that is what should happen anyhow.) Once again, I really enjoyed it. I seemed to really work well with my exceptional education kids. My first year the students with behavioral disabilities didn't act up a whole lot in my class...mostly because I didn't play along with how they wanted me to react to their behaviors. (It was my regular ed kids who gave me hell my first year...) I think one of the reasons I enjoy these students so much is that I enjoy unlocking the mystery to what makes them tick and what is going to work best to help them learn. When I hear Susie isn't doing x, y, and z I wonder why? Immediately I begin going through all of the things I have been taught and all of my experiences as a teacher to think of things to try to help Susie do x, y, and z. Regular ed students have mysteries too it is just that sometimes their mysteries are not as debilitating or as mysterious to unlock.
So I'm left with a choice: English MA or Special Education MA?
So, which degree do I obtain folks? Here are your choices: an English MA or a Special Education MA? An English MA would still allow me to teach reading & language arts for grades 7-12, but it also opens the door to teaching at community colleges as well (at least here in Alabama). I think I would enjoy teaching college students. The Special Education MA would pave the way for me to be certified to teach 7-12 Special Education (it may allow me to teach elementary as well, but I rather enjoy
I'm leaning towards Special Education, but I just don't know. There have been many things placed in my path to lead me towards Special Education. During my time as a student teacher (you know when you get to be the teacher, but don't get a paycheck), I had the opportunity to work with students who were identified as being exceptional students (students with disabilities-behavior or learning) and I really bonded with them. During my time as a substitute teacher I was sometimes asked to sub for the Special Education teacher. Again, I worked with the students very well. During my time as a teacher in NC I had two inclusion classes both years. An inclusion class is a mixture of regular ed and exceptional ed students and a Special Education teacher also joins the class. The idea is to differentiate or adapt instruction so that the exceptional students can excel, but those adaptations don't take away from what the regular ed students are learning either. (Well, in a nutshell that is what should happen anyhow.) Once again, I really enjoyed it. I seemed to really work well with my exceptional education kids. My first year the students with behavioral disabilities didn't act up a whole lot in my class...mostly because I didn't play along with how they wanted me to react to their behaviors. (It was my regular ed kids who gave me hell my first year...) I think one of the reasons I enjoy these students so much is that I enjoy unlocking the mystery to what makes them tick and what is going to work best to help them learn. When I hear Susie isn't doing x, y, and z I wonder why? Immediately I begin going through all of the things I have been taught and all of my experiences as a teacher to think of things to try to help Susie do x, y, and z. Regular ed students have mysteries too it is just that sometimes their mysteries are not as debilitating or as mysterious to unlock.
So I'm left with a choice: English MA or Special Education MA?
Friday, October 9, 2009
Recovering Marine
As the majority of you know, Dave has been out of "active duty USMC life" for about about 22 months now. The adjustment to civilian life and no longer being an active duty Marine has been somewhat challenging to say the least-for both of us. There are a variety of reasons why this has been challenging, most of which I have blogged about before. No need to go into them now. If you know and/or love a Marine that is no longer active duty then you have a much clearer understanding of this process and can empathize with my current situation. I finally had an "ah-ha" moment while reading my latest installment of Sgt. Grit's newsletter. (Note: by clicking on Sgt. Grit it will take you to USMC paraphernalia heaven and by clicking on newsletter it will take you to the archive of this week's newsletter.) I love this newsletter because it has reminded me on every step of my journey as a Marine's wife that my path is not unique and humor is required to deal with life as such. This newsletter also has a tendency to make me cry on a regular basis because I am so touched by a story included. Ok, back to the story at hand...
There has been a continuing debate about what to call a Marine once he/she has left active duty life. The saying is "once a Marine, always a Marine" and it is very, very true in so many different ways. Again, this is where the knowledge of what it is like to know and/or love a Marine comes in handy. Do we call this Marine a Former Marine? Well, technically he's still a Marine so no former applies here. Do we call him an Ex-Marine? An ex is something you get rid of. Nobody gets rid of a Marine, he's always a Marine. This is why I have taken to referring to Dave as a Marine who is no longer on active duty. Finally, I have a more apt term to explain his current situation and status as a Marine. He is a Recovering Marine. Please read the following to understand why...
Sgt Grit,
Much has been written about being a Ex or Former US Marine, but after doing 4.5 years in the Corps, I am neither an Ex or Former Marine.
For I go by the title of a: Recovering US Marine and I am still in Recovery.
Since I am in Recovery, with some sort of Recovery plan to deal with my Marine Corps ways, for my family and love ones ... every day is a struggle for these good kind people. But with hope, kindest, care, happy thoughts, love, feelings, and other happy words & kind thoughts ... I will get over being a US Marine, someday, maybe, if I try hard, I can kick it, I know that I can. {Oh, how I love this part. As one of those good kind people left to deal with a Recovering Marine it is good to know my Marine is at least attempting recovery no matter how insurmountable that task seems.}
In the mean time I just tell people, when I am asked: are you an Ex-Marine, I say no, I am Recovery US Marine, I am still in Recovery. And some day, with time, hard work, doing some sort of recovery plan, that I will get over being a US Marine. Maybe, with time, it could take a while, I am working in that direction, I am trying, but someday I do hope, maybe with time to get out of recovery and no longer be a Recovering US Marine. {True Marine spirit hard at work here...never give up.}
So in the time being; I still ring the ships bell for "all hands man your drinking stations, this is not a drill", think fat kids should do rifle PT or throw square bales on a farm, my rifle is still my piece, if you say K-Bar ... I giggle or grunt, I still like M543s, still have a house wife, a rubber lady, can rant and rave on command, I go to the Chow Hall Store, the head is a head, the shower is the rain room, still sweep and swab, and I can still find my sea bag, I think. For the sea bag, may have to field day below decks aka the basement but since winter is soon to be in MN that could happen. {Well, the good news is Dave won't have far to look to find his sea bags. They're still full of his leftover gear from active duty life and easily found in our spare room.}
So, make a Tee shirt out of that! Recovering US Marine. Maybe I should have copyrighted Recovering US Marine, before I told you. But h&ll, I am still in Recovery!
Take care, Semper Fi,
Pete Berg
Deerwood, MN
73 to 78
Note:
We took your advice.. Recovering Marine T-Shirt
Semper Fi Sgt Grit
Sgt. Grit- I love the t-shirt. Can we have one for the wife of a Recovering Marine too please? It should come with a chocolate bar too. I hear chocolate relieves stress and I know my Recovering Marine causes me lots of stress sometimes. Thanks.
So henceforth and so on Dave shall be referred to as a Recovering Marine instead of a No Longer Active Duty Marine. Now if only there were some 12 step program with a proven success rate for kicking this habit we'd both be happier...that or we'd be knee deep in a 12 step program. In the meantime I will be living life with my Recovering Marine and in those especially trying moments when being married to a Recovering Marine becomes almost unbearable I will try to remember that I am not alone in my journey as the wife of a Recovering Marine.
There has been a continuing debate about what to call a Marine once he/she has left active duty life. The saying is "once a Marine, always a Marine" and it is very, very true in so many different ways. Again, this is where the knowledge of what it is like to know and/or love a Marine comes in handy. Do we call this Marine a Former Marine? Well, technically he's still a Marine so no former applies here. Do we call him an Ex-Marine? An ex is something you get rid of. Nobody gets rid of a Marine, he's always a Marine. This is why I have taken to referring to Dave as a Marine who is no longer on active duty. Finally, I have a more apt term to explain his current situation and status as a Marine. He is a Recovering Marine. Please read the following to understand why...
Sgt Grit,
Much has been written about being a Ex or Former US Marine, but after doing 4.5 years in the Corps, I am neither an Ex or Former Marine.
For I go by the title of a: Recovering US Marine and I am still in Recovery.
Since I am in Recovery, with some sort of Recovery plan to deal with my Marine Corps ways, for my family and love ones ... every day is a struggle for these good kind people. But with hope, kindest, care, happy thoughts, love, feelings, and other happy words & kind thoughts ... I will get over being a US Marine, someday, maybe, if I try hard, I can kick it, I know that I can. {Oh, how I love this part. As one of those good kind people left to deal with a Recovering Marine it is good to know my Marine is at least attempting recovery no matter how insurmountable that task seems.}
In the mean time I just tell people, when I am asked: are you an Ex-Marine, I say no, I am Recovery US Marine, I am still in Recovery. And some day, with time, hard work, doing some sort of recovery plan, that I will get over being a US Marine. Maybe, with time, it could take a while, I am working in that direction, I am trying, but someday I do hope, maybe with time to get out of recovery and no longer be a Recovering US Marine. {True Marine spirit hard at work here...never give up.}
So in the time being; I still ring the ships bell for "all hands man your drinking stations, this is not a drill", think fat kids should do rifle PT or throw square bales on a farm, my rifle is still my piece, if you say K-Bar ... I giggle or grunt, I still like M543s, still have a house wife, a rubber lady, can rant and rave on command, I go to the Chow Hall Store, the head is a head, the shower is the rain room, still sweep and swab, and I can still find my sea bag, I think. For the sea bag, may have to field day below decks aka the basement but since winter is soon to be in MN that could happen. {Well, the good news is Dave won't have far to look to find his sea bags. They're still full of his leftover gear from active duty life and easily found in our spare room.}
So, make a Tee shirt out of that! Recovering US Marine. Maybe I should have copyrighted Recovering US Marine, before I told you. But h&ll, I am still in Recovery!Take care, Semper Fi,
Pete Berg
Deerwood, MN
73 to 78
Note:
We took your advice.. Recovering Marine T-Shirt
Semper Fi Sgt Grit
Sgt. Grit- I love the t-shirt. Can we have one for the wife of a Recovering Marine too please? It should come with a chocolate bar too. I hear chocolate relieves stress and I know my Recovering Marine causes me lots of stress sometimes. Thanks.
So henceforth and so on Dave shall be referred to as a Recovering Marine instead of a No Longer Active Duty Marine. Now if only there were some 12 step program with a proven success rate for kicking this habit we'd both be happier...that or we'd be knee deep in a 12 step program. In the meantime I will be living life with my Recovering Marine and in those especially trying moments when being married to a Recovering Marine becomes almost unbearable I will try to remember that I am not alone in my journey as the wife of a Recovering Marine.
Rewind?
Have you ever had one of those days you just wanted to press rewind and start over? Wednesday was my day that needed a rewind button. The moral for Wednesday is that "pride cometh before a fall."
My Wednesday unfolded as follows:
Midnight-6:30am - Woke up at 1 hr or so intervals. It makes me angry to wake up so much throughout the night. I don't know why I woke up so much, except that when I woke up at 3:30am there was very bright lightening and loud thunder. Maybe that had something to do with it.
6:30am - I get out of bed, very unhappy to be awake at this hour. I begin the process of showering and getting ready for work.
7:45am - I am dressed. I have coffee in hand (that is thick and black enough to strip paint off of anything - never let Dave make coffee, he followed the Dunkin Donuts dosage recommendations for coffee ground measurement) loaded down with lots of sugar and creamer. I grab the two bags of trash that need to go to the end of the driveway and I am off to work. I managed to get ready and leave early for work so that I can stop and get gas and still make it to work on time. I'm quite proud of myself. I'm talking really proud.
(From this point in time all times are recorded as "-ish" b/c I don't know the exact time each event occurred.)
7:46ish am - I get out at the end of the driveway to remove the two bags of trash from my car to place in the garbage can. In the process of pulling them from the backseat the card door starts to close and smacks me in the head. I remember thinking "grrrrr, that sucked but I'm still on my way to work early so it will be ok."
7:48ish am - I am driving down our road and a truck is coming from the other direction. I move over to the edge of the road to make room for the both of us on the rather narrow back road. No big event here, just keep reading because this may be a necessary detail to the story.
7:50ish am - I hear a funny noise while driving. I turn off my iPod w/speakers (it is my version of a car radio, apparently I'm no longer cool enough to have a real car radio) to listen. Hmmm, it just sounds like maybe I didn't get the car door shut all the way. You know, the one that hit me in the head. I keep driving.
7:55ish am - The noise is louder. MUCH louder. I'm thinking we have a problem here since it feels a little tough to drive. I pull off to the side of the road (another back country road) and hop out to see what it up. Nothing is up, in fact something is very, very flat. My rear passenger tire is flat, well shredded really. (Remember that pulling off to the side of the road detail, I think I may have done something to injure my tire then.)
7:56ish am - I pull out my cell phone and hope I can reach Dave at home before he leaves for school. I'm approximately 2.5 miles from home. (I'm supposed to be at work at 9am and it takes an hour to get there. I now need to change a tire-hoping that I have a spare- get gas, and still make it to work on time.) Unfortunately, I have already crossed into the no cell service range of my drive. Darnit! Luckily, I have worn flip flops (and planned to change into my dress shoes at work) so I grab my purse, lock my car, and begin walking home. I'm hoping I can get cell service before I have to walk the whole way though or I am not going to make it in time to reach Dave.
8:00ish am - I hear a car on the road behind me. It slows and I hear "hey, you need a ride?" Before I turn I think "please Dear God don't let them be crazy." I say "yes please. If you could just drive me to the end of this road that would be great!" I hop in. He says "I saw the car and wondered what was going on and then I saw you walking." I said "yeah, I got a flat tire." A few minutes of silence pass and then the man says "I'm headed to the doctor this morning because I'm tired of feeling this way." I said "oh, that isn't good." I purposefully did not ask what was meant by "feeling this way" because I was almost scared to ask.
8:04ish am -We arrive at the end of the road. The nice man driving asks "where to?" I said "you can just drop me here because my house is the first one across the street." (If you don't know where I live you know I have to walk a few feet down the road and up the driveway to reach my house.) So he does. I say thanks for the ride I really appreciate it. I begin walking towards the house. I also try calling the house phone and get no answer. I call Dave's cell phone and get no answer. I am hoping and pleading that he will still be home when I get there.
8:08ish am - I make it far enough up the drive to see that Dave's car is still at the house. YAY! I finally reach the door and unlock it. I go in the house and realize he is still in our room. I have a fleeting thought of "I hope he doesn't shoot me." I open the door to see he is brushing his teeth, rather he has paused while brushing his teeth to see what the noise was and who might be coming in his house. No gun in hand, just a toothbrush. Whew! I say, I got a flat tire. I go through the story of what happened. He finishes getting dressed and I go to start calling my co-workers. I was scheduled to open the store with another sales lead so that is great because the store won't have to open late, I just need to get in touch with one of the two associates scheduled at 10am to see if they can get there a bit early. I make some calls and leave some messages.
8:15ish am - We arrive back at my car so Dave can survey the damage. He notes that I do indeed have a spare tire, the ground is soft from all the rain last night, and we will need to locate a jack to change the tire. We hop back in his car and drive the 5 miles to the in-law's house.
8:20ish am - We arrive at the in-law's house. I wish I had remembered to grab my MIL's birthday present (which is STILL sitting on my kitchen table as I type) b/c her birthday was Sunday. We locate a jack. My FIL also comes to help. And we're off to visit my car.
8:40ish am - I determine I have an associate who can open the store with the other sales lead so that store is covered. Whew. We arrive at the car and the boys begin changing the tire. It is a long process. The good news is that my spare tire is a full size spare. Which still means it is dangerous to drive on the spare because it is a different brand and slightly smaller than the other tires on my car, but better than a donut size spare-especially on a top heavy SUV.
9:00ish am - I am sent home with Dave's car (which is actually the in-laws Cougar) which has funny noises and quirks all its own. It is aging. Dave is off to find a replacement tire. I wait to find out if I can make it to work sometime today to at least get my hours in and allow the other sales lead to take a lunch.
10:50ish am - Phone call from Dave. The first place he stopped did not sell Kuhmo tires. He is off to another place to see if he can get a tire to match the others.
11:50ish am - The other place he stopped can get a tire, but it won't be here til tomorrow morning. Ugh. I let work know I won't be in at all today. My FIL has agreed to pick up the tire for us on Thursday.
Dave finally arrives home sometime later in the afternoon. A mere $150 later I will have a replacement tire...sometime tomorrow. I arrange with work to make up my missed hours on Thursday so I can still enjoy a weekend off. I try to take a nap...but every time I am just about asleep the phone rings or something happens and I wake up. Ugh. I really just wanted to rewind the day and start over so that everything could go according to my plan that I was so sincerely proud about following so well early Wednesday morning. I guess I needed that reminder that my plan wasn't really that important anyhow.
Thursday's Tire Update: Still no tire. I cautiously drive to work on the spare. Praying the whole time that I make it there and back safely. I have a pair of tennis shoes just in case I need to start walking again. I did make it there and back safely. I'm thankful.
Friday's tire Update: No plans to go anywhere today. The tire can come whenever it pleases. Dave is off tomorrow so I am sure it will be on by Saturday night. In the mean time I am not traveling far and only if necessary. It is raining at the moment so I am perfectly fine with that. I am supposed to be cleaning out our spare room this weekend anyhow. It has become a storage place for all of the things we have no idea what to do with. Along with many things we have been too lazy to unpack. If I get it cleaned out I am told we may be able to purchase an elliptical machine. That would be very exciting because I rather enjoyed the last one we owned until it broke beyond repair. Owning and elliptical and using it on a regular basis would not only be "heart healthy" but it might also allow me to work off some of this extra stress Alabama living has brought (you should insert the words "massive amounts of over indulging on yummy southern cooking" for the word stress if we're being honest with each other and the reality of those words has meant an extra 15-20 lbs since Dave's deployment and return home over 2 yrs ago now.) We'll see how it goes.
My Wednesday unfolded as follows:
Midnight-6:30am - Woke up at 1 hr or so intervals. It makes me angry to wake up so much throughout the night. I don't know why I woke up so much, except that when I woke up at 3:30am there was very bright lightening and loud thunder. Maybe that had something to do with it.
6:30am - I get out of bed, very unhappy to be awake at this hour. I begin the process of showering and getting ready for work.
7:45am - I am dressed. I have coffee in hand (that is thick and black enough to strip paint off of anything - never let Dave make coffee, he followed the Dunkin Donuts dosage recommendations for coffee ground measurement) loaded down with lots of sugar and creamer. I grab the two bags of trash that need to go to the end of the driveway and I am off to work. I managed to get ready and leave early for work so that I can stop and get gas and still make it to work on time. I'm quite proud of myself. I'm talking really proud.
(From this point in time all times are recorded as "-ish" b/c I don't know the exact time each event occurred.)
7:46ish am - I get out at the end of the driveway to remove the two bags of trash from my car to place in the garbage can. In the process of pulling them from the backseat the card door starts to close and smacks me in the head. I remember thinking "grrrrr, that sucked but I'm still on my way to work early so it will be ok."
7:48ish am - I am driving down our road and a truck is coming from the other direction. I move over to the edge of the road to make room for the both of us on the rather narrow back road. No big event here, just keep reading because this may be a necessary detail to the story.
7:50ish am - I hear a funny noise while driving. I turn off my iPod w/speakers (it is my version of a car radio, apparently I'm no longer cool enough to have a real car radio) to listen. Hmmm, it just sounds like maybe I didn't get the car door shut all the way. You know, the one that hit me in the head. I keep driving.
7:55ish am - The noise is louder. MUCH louder. I'm thinking we have a problem here since it feels a little tough to drive. I pull off to the side of the road (another back country road) and hop out to see what it up. Nothing is up, in fact something is very, very flat. My rear passenger tire is flat, well shredded really. (Remember that pulling off to the side of the road detail, I think I may have done something to injure my tire then.)
7:56ish am - I pull out my cell phone and hope I can reach Dave at home before he leaves for school. I'm approximately 2.5 miles from home. (I'm supposed to be at work at 9am and it takes an hour to get there. I now need to change a tire-hoping that I have a spare- get gas, and still make it to work on time.) Unfortunately, I have already crossed into the no cell service range of my drive. Darnit! Luckily, I have worn flip flops (and planned to change into my dress shoes at work) so I grab my purse, lock my car, and begin walking home. I'm hoping I can get cell service before I have to walk the whole way though or I am not going to make it in time to reach Dave.
8:00ish am - I hear a car on the road behind me. It slows and I hear "hey, you need a ride?" Before I turn I think "please Dear God don't let them be crazy." I say "yes please. If you could just drive me to the end of this road that would be great!" I hop in. He says "I saw the car and wondered what was going on and then I saw you walking." I said "yeah, I got a flat tire." A few minutes of silence pass and then the man says "I'm headed to the doctor this morning because I'm tired of feeling this way." I said "oh, that isn't good." I purposefully did not ask what was meant by "feeling this way" because I was almost scared to ask.
8:04ish am -We arrive at the end of the road. The nice man driving asks "where to?" I said "you can just drop me here because my house is the first one across the street." (If you don't know where I live you know I have to walk a few feet down the road and up the driveway to reach my house.) So he does. I say thanks for the ride I really appreciate it. I begin walking towards the house. I also try calling the house phone and get no answer. I call Dave's cell phone and get no answer. I am hoping and pleading that he will still be home when I get there.
8:08ish am - I make it far enough up the drive to see that Dave's car is still at the house. YAY! I finally reach the door and unlock it. I go in the house and realize he is still in our room. I have a fleeting thought of "I hope he doesn't shoot me." I open the door to see he is brushing his teeth, rather he has paused while brushing his teeth to see what the noise was and who might be coming in his house. No gun in hand, just a toothbrush. Whew! I say, I got a flat tire. I go through the story of what happened. He finishes getting dressed and I go to start calling my co-workers. I was scheduled to open the store with another sales lead so that is great because the store won't have to open late, I just need to get in touch with one of the two associates scheduled at 10am to see if they can get there a bit early. I make some calls and leave some messages.
8:15ish am - We arrive back at my car so Dave can survey the damage. He notes that I do indeed have a spare tire, the ground is soft from all the rain last night, and we will need to locate a jack to change the tire. We hop back in his car and drive the 5 miles to the in-law's house.
8:20ish am - We arrive at the in-law's house. I wish I had remembered to grab my MIL's birthday present (which is STILL sitting on my kitchen table as I type) b/c her birthday was Sunday. We locate a jack. My FIL also comes to help. And we're off to visit my car.
8:40ish am - I determine I have an associate who can open the store with the other sales lead so that store is covered. Whew. We arrive at the car and the boys begin changing the tire. It is a long process. The good news is that my spare tire is a full size spare. Which still means it is dangerous to drive on the spare because it is a different brand and slightly smaller than the other tires on my car, but better than a donut size spare-especially on a top heavy SUV.
9:00ish am - I am sent home with Dave's car (which is actually the in-laws Cougar) which has funny noises and quirks all its own. It is aging. Dave is off to find a replacement tire. I wait to find out if I can make it to work sometime today to at least get my hours in and allow the other sales lead to take a lunch.
10:50ish am - Phone call from Dave. The first place he stopped did not sell Kuhmo tires. He is off to another place to see if he can get a tire to match the others.
11:50ish am - The other place he stopped can get a tire, but it won't be here til tomorrow morning. Ugh. I let work know I won't be in at all today. My FIL has agreed to pick up the tire for us on Thursday.
Dave finally arrives home sometime later in the afternoon. A mere $150 later I will have a replacement tire...sometime tomorrow. I arrange with work to make up my missed hours on Thursday so I can still enjoy a weekend off. I try to take a nap...but every time I am just about asleep the phone rings or something happens and I wake up. Ugh. I really just wanted to rewind the day and start over so that everything could go according to my plan that I was so sincerely proud about following so well early Wednesday morning. I guess I needed that reminder that my plan wasn't really that important anyhow.
Thursday's Tire Update: Still no tire. I cautiously drive to work on the spare. Praying the whole time that I make it there and back safely. I have a pair of tennis shoes just in case I need to start walking again. I did make it there and back safely. I'm thankful.
Friday's tire Update: No plans to go anywhere today. The tire can come whenever it pleases. Dave is off tomorrow so I am sure it will be on by Saturday night. In the mean time I am not traveling far and only if necessary. It is raining at the moment so I am perfectly fine with that. I am supposed to be cleaning out our spare room this weekend anyhow. It has become a storage place for all of the things we have no idea what to do with. Along with many things we have been too lazy to unpack. If I get it cleaned out I am told we may be able to purchase an elliptical machine. That would be very exciting because I rather enjoyed the last one we owned until it broke beyond repair. Owning and elliptical and using it on a regular basis would not only be "heart healthy" but it might also allow me to work off some of this extra stress Alabama living has brought (you should insert the words "massive amounts of over indulging on yummy southern cooking" for the word stress if we're being honest with each other and the reality of those words has meant an extra 15-20 lbs since Dave's deployment and return home over 2 yrs ago now.) We'll see how it goes.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Misadventures of a Gypsy in a Hair Salon ~ Part 2
As the oldest child in a family of 3, er well...3.2 (3 full blood siblings, 2 half siblings) I am all about being fair. The oldest often ends up with a lot of responsibility and sometimes for things the oldest has no control over. So I must be fair and blog part 2 of the hair salon saga. I know you all were on the edges of your seats wondering what was going to happen to my multicolored hair. (So maybe you weren't...it is okay.)
Sunday afternoon I receive a call from the stylist asking how my hair is going. My response "it is ok, but I still have a root problem." Stylist responds with "well, come back in and we will redo it. When is your next day off?" We talk and settle upon a Thursday am appointment time. I am left to wonder all week how this appointment will go and determine that it can't be any worse, right? Worst case scenario is that I have to pay someone else to fix it. (Which is what I would have to do without giving this stylist a redo.)
Thursday morning arrives and I get ready and head to the salon. I am less surprised at my surroundings and since it isn't a suer busy day for the salon ( like a Friday would be) there is less going on and I can observe. I notice my original observation that there isn't a styled person in the building is incorrect. I notice a nail tech and a hair stylist with cute hair and some fashion sense. These two were there on my original visit, but they were lost in the mass of clientel who did not looked styled. I even saw some clients walk in that had style themselves, not just elderly ladies coming in to get their hair washed and styled for the week. (Again, nothing wrong with that...it is just that given too many elderly ladies to style it could make your stylist forget you are well under the age of 50 and don't even begin to look your own age. I'm 27, I swear, ok? No, Katie is not the oldest, no I am not the youngest and yes I am quite sure that Maggie and I are not twins.) Sorry for my mini rant. Ok, so I notice more style and feel less overwhelmed with the entire place. The stylist takes one look at my hair and says something about the color washing out alot and it doesn't look good. The stylist explains that the first round of dye was a blond and a brunette color mixed so that it wasn't too dark and didn't startle me after being blonde. I tell the stylist that I am used to going from blonde to really dark so it would have been ok. The stylist goes off to mix the color, which is just going to be a brunette dye this time, and I sit and wait. The stylist applies the dye, I sit and bake under the dryer a little longer this time, and a little longer out of the dryer, and then we wash it off. Wow, HUGE difference already. No noticeable root line. We dry it and reevaluate. Nope still looks good. We head out into the sun to check how it looks there. On one side you can see a slight difference if you're being super duper picky. I think it is good. The stylist then finishes styling my hair. No bit swoop this time, no hairspray, no flipped out ends, which means I am left with a simple bob like look. Who knew? No Stepford wives look this time. Yay! I am given directions to do my hair the next two days and then evaluate the color. See how much has washed out and if we need to dye it one step darker or possibly add just a few highlights to mix up the stark root line.
It is two days later. My hair looks good. The dye didn't wash out. Yay! I didn't need a sedative this time. Much better experience.
Sunday afternoon I receive a call from the stylist asking how my hair is going. My response "it is ok, but I still have a root problem." Stylist responds with "well, come back in and we will redo it. When is your next day off?" We talk and settle upon a Thursday am appointment time. I am left to wonder all week how this appointment will go and determine that it can't be any worse, right? Worst case scenario is that I have to pay someone else to fix it. (Which is what I would have to do without giving this stylist a redo.)
Thursday morning arrives and I get ready and head to the salon. I am less surprised at my surroundings and since it isn't a suer busy day for the salon ( like a Friday would be) there is less going on and I can observe. I notice my original observation that there isn't a styled person in the building is incorrect. I notice a nail tech and a hair stylist with cute hair and some fashion sense. These two were there on my original visit, but they were lost in the mass of clientel who did not looked styled. I even saw some clients walk in that had style themselves, not just elderly ladies coming in to get their hair washed and styled for the week. (Again, nothing wrong with that...it is just that given too many elderly ladies to style it could make your stylist forget you are well under the age of 50 and don't even begin to look your own age. I'm 27, I swear, ok? No, Katie is not the oldest, no I am not the youngest and yes I am quite sure that Maggie and I are not twins.) Sorry for my mini rant. Ok, so I notice more style and feel less overwhelmed with the entire place. The stylist takes one look at my hair and says something about the color washing out alot and it doesn't look good. The stylist explains that the first round of dye was a blond and a brunette color mixed so that it wasn't too dark and didn't startle me after being blonde. I tell the stylist that I am used to going from blonde to really dark so it would have been ok. The stylist goes off to mix the color, which is just going to be a brunette dye this time, and I sit and wait. The stylist applies the dye, I sit and bake under the dryer a little longer this time, and a little longer out of the dryer, and then we wash it off. Wow, HUGE difference already. No noticeable root line. We dry it and reevaluate. Nope still looks good. We head out into the sun to check how it looks there. On one side you can see a slight difference if you're being super duper picky. I think it is good. The stylist then finishes styling my hair. No bit swoop this time, no hairspray, no flipped out ends, which means I am left with a simple bob like look. Who knew? No Stepford wives look this time. Yay! I am given directions to do my hair the next two days and then evaluate the color. See how much has washed out and if we need to dye it one step darker or possibly add just a few highlights to mix up the stark root line.
It is two days later. My hair looks good. The dye didn't wash out. Yay! I didn't need a sedative this time. Much better experience.
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