Yup, I Really Did...

Thanks to everyone for your kind comments about the blog. As an English Prof, it can be easy to forget how hard it is for your students to turn over their “babies” (their papers) to you. It’s just another assignment to the teacher, but not to the students. These are very personal items. Nobody likes being told his or her baby is ugly, so writing this blog is forcing me to put my babies out there, a few per week, to be judged, as well. It’s good practice in humility. That, along with shooting, cooking, and sewing are keeping me really, really humble, y’all. I think the blog has made me a better reader, too. I’m a little more willing to forgive a student’s claim of writer’s block if I’ve suffered it myself recently. It’s also easier to overlook a few grammatical errors when I make them myself. Trust me -- sometimes I re-read something for what must be the fortieth time and STILL screw up comma placement. Comma-splices, my left butt cheek! I like commas, so I’m gonna use commas!! Take a breath, insert a comma. ‘Nuff said about that,,,,,,,,, :-)

But, I digress…Back to you, my lovely readers! My friend just asked today whether the story about the pickle jar is really true. Yup, I really did smash the pickle jar open with a hammer on my patio. I was out of options, people! As I thought about the veracity (not voracity…as I’m always freakin’ starving. I’m a vegetarian, after all; I’m almost always hungry.) of the stories and strategies I’ve been building for you, I wanted to make it clear that the stories are true. Yup, I really do a lot of ridiculous things that I’m willing to share with you, because…what the hell? Ya know what I mean? The more the merrier. I’d love to think that you could learn from my mistakes, but I don’t even think I’m learning from them just yet. So, for now, it’s about the humor in the simple things in life, relationships, and deployments.

So, yes, I really do keep a hammer in the kitchen drawer, right next to the Saws-All and the Band-Aids. My husband is smart enough to know not to laugh when I ask him to unscrew a jar for me. He usually even lies and tells me that I must have loosened it for him. Laugh it up, Sweet Cheeks! You have to sleep sometime!

And, I really did paint my walls, with the help of my fantabulous sister-in-law, the color of macaroni and cheese. As her comment said, “it was officially the scariest can of paint we ever looked into.” I’m not willing to half-ass anything, and I’m hoping that comes through in my advice to y’all. I really mean it when I say, “go big or go home.” It’s just paint. You can raze the house and start over if you don’t like it. I’m sure we could find a great deal on an earth-mover. I feel that way about my hair, too.

I really did dye it every color of the rainbow in the last few years since I’ve been out of the military and probably some very illegal (or un-reg-like) colors while I was active duty. I got in more trouble over my hair than anybody out at Schriever AFB probably ever has. I kept a copy of an LOR in my shin pocket at all times, just to remind myself that not everybody “loves on” the hair like I do. But, my students and university bosses have always liked it; you can tell very quickly how my class is going to be run by looking at my hair on the first day. If it scares you, you’re probably in the wrong classroom. Don’t let the door smack you in the butt on the way out. If it makes you smile, stick around, and we’ll probably have some fun.

Speaking of pockets, yes, I really did fit everything AND the kitchen sink into my flight suit. If they give you pockets, they mean for you to fill them up. Don’t they? I haven’t actually weighed my old flight suit, but hefting it, and then hoisting the fattest of the cats is about the same amount of “holy crap, this is heavy!” (Mama loves you, Zoe! You’re a pretty girl!) Even this many years later, I haven’t had the heart to clean everything out of the pockets, so if I find myself in need of something, anything, really, I start by hunting through all of the uniform pockets; I usually find what I’m looking for, too. Strange, maybe that’s where the socks that get sucked into the dryer empty out: my right flight cap pocket. I’ll test that later in my VERY scientific fashion. Trust me!

I really did ask my husband to marry me. It really was the scariest thing I’ve ever done. In my mind, I was going to be very suave and debonair, I had a ring and was ready to get down on one knee, as I was asking him to be my wife, not my husband…long story. Let me know if you want to hear the whole story in another blog…and then he can tell you how it REALLY happened!

I really did pass out getting the tattoo. Yeah, it was funny. Yeah, it hurt like a bi!@%. Yeah, it was worth it. Now, it REALLY, REALLY itches!!!! But, it’s still worth it…really.

And, definitely, the universe really did have to get involved in my relationships! My ability to select well for myself had been a little suspect prior to the name tag sealing the deal for me. Wawawa…bad joke! Seal the deal? Really? Yeah, my sense of humor is actually that awful. Just ask the Seal Hubby. He groans in his sleep now. I think I might have marred him for life with my ghastly jokes. Ah, well. Take the good with the bad, Baby! ;->

I really do have three cats who run my life, and I’m really learning to swear at them in Gaelic. The going’s a little slow, because it really is the most outrageous language I’ve ever taken a crack at. We haven’t even gotten to lessons on commas. Oh, shit! At that point, I think I’ll just throw in the towel -- if one of the cats isn’t sitting on it at the time.

And, last but not least, my husband really is deployed. It really does suck sometimes, but writing only partially-ridiculous advice for other people does make it more fun for me. And, I really did make a toilet seat out of bread. Oh, wait…did I tell you that one yet?