Oh Yeah! Oh No! Okay.

Meet John Henry. He is a couple weeks old and currently lives in Pennsylvania. But in September, he's moving. To Pensacola.

For almost two years our puppy policy has been:

Me: Can we pleeeeeeeeeeeease get a puppy?
The Hus: It's not the right time. We need a fenced-in yard. Puppies tie you down. We'll get a puppy later.
Me: *mope*

The other day, seemingly out of the blue, the Hus says, "Maybe we should get a puppy." I laughed and agreed. But then he was serious. I very heartily agreed and offered a backrub. We looked online. Two days later, we put a deposit down on John Henry, our little yellow lab from Pennsylvania. We bribed my sister to pick him up (it takes shockingly little to bribe people to pick up puppies) and bring him to Charleston. I will drive up and meet her and our little John Henry, whom the Hus will call Hank.

But here's the funny thing about how the Hus and I make decisions. It's goes like this: Oh Yeah! Oh no! Okay.

Oh Yeah: We get the idea into our heads, usually an idea we've been non-verbally mulling over for at least 6 months. Then, seemingly all of the sudden, the mulling of the Hus comes to an end (my mulling takes 6 hours, his takes at least 6 months) and we say, essentially, "Oh.. this would be a good idea. Let's do this."

Oh No: Once we research the idea, the price and the inconveniences, the negatives growl at us and we cower and think about reconsidering, "Oh no!" we say, "We just received a high credit card bill. Are we ready for a puppy/baby/cathode ray television?"

Okay: Having gone through the obligatory cowering (it's very important to allow oneself to be scared by the upcoming decision, at least for an hour or two), we look at the situation logically and, all things having been considered, decide that, "Okay... this is a big decision, but we're quite ready to be responsible now."

Oh yeah. Oh no. Okay.

It's psychology.

This is precisely the way we decided to start trying to have kids (Which was a year ago. Uteruses do not always cooperate and apparently do not run on the same fast acting principles as do the Hus and I). This is the way we decided to get a new computer and this will be the way we decide to buy or not buy a house, buy new cars, and so on for the rest of our lives. Although I hope we never have to decide on nursing homes this way, since I plan to never BE in a nursing home, unless accompanied, not only by the Hus, but all of our lifelong friends, so we can have wheelchair races and tease eachother's grandchildren and pretend to be senile.

I say that to say this: Introducing, Mr. John Henry. I can't wait for September 5th.

One Time in a Helicopter

The Hus relayed the following story to me the other day, and I am retelling it using words that I understand.

So the Hus and the Dan (the Hus' flight partner) were flying the other day. The instructor usually turns the communication frequency to a certain channel, which happens to be an AM radio channel, which is only important because it is possible to click over to listen to AM radio stations on the individual pilot's headset while flying. This particular time, it was tuned to an alternate frequency. The Hus and the Dan debated for a while whether to ask him about it or not (one doesn't like to correct one's instructor, you see) and so when the instructor got in the 'copter again, the Dan casually said, "Uh, Sir.... did you want me to switch the frequency to (random number)?"
Whereupon the instructor replied, "No... leave it... it's Rush Limbaugh."

I love the military.

Goggles Make the Beach More Fun

The Hus and I really are starting to take advantage of the beach lately. Yesterday we brought goggles, which the Hus utilized to catch these little critters. He handed me a couple shells first, which I tucked into my bathing suit top, so as not to lose them in the water. Once ashore, our hands full of hermit crabs, carefully held by the pointy end of their shells, we laid them out on the beach blanket. When I pulled the shells out of my bathing suit to examine them, I realized that they ALSO had hermit crabs in them. Which, thankfully, refrained from pinching me whilst I unknowingly held them hostage in my suit.

It is to be noted, as well, that I am becoming very brave in the Gulf ocean waters. The Hus bribed me (with BBQ ribs) to swim out to the second sand bar, which is beyond some very deep water (I mean... maybe 20 feet?). Deep water is where sharks live. And I had a bright orange tube, which I am sure attracts mean, hungry sharks. Needless to say, the food incentive was sufficient and I count myself quite brave now.

Afterwards, when once again in standing depth, I yelped when I saw a bunch of seaweed float by, but I don't think that has any negative effect on my bravery. It just happened to be all used up by then.Isn't their tininess so epic in the picture? It should be a movie poster. All photos are compliments of the Hus and his new camera. The top is our computer wallpaper... haha...

Grandma

I think I skipped all the steps to being a good mom and have gone straight to being ready to be a good grandma.

I make quilts now. This is my first one. It still reminds me of Megan.

Also, I love making cookies and feeding people.

Also, I am good at spoiling other people's kids.

But mostly, it's the quilt. I even know how to knit.

At Least in the Navy We'll Always be Near the Beach

Today we did this:
It was a good day.

Also, the Sister just sent me the following photo. I have no idea when or why it was taken, but I'm sure you will enjoy:

My dad thinks we're just a couple of kids playing house in Florida. I wonder why...?

Ich Habe Genug

Blasted Thievery

"Pelosi said only "a very few" of America's wealthiest people were being asked to pay a new surtax to help foot the healthcare reform bill, while House Majority leader Steny Hoyer said lawmakers would push for more healthcare cost savings in the final version of the legislation." (Reuters)

And yet she also wants to drop the income level classifying a "wealthy" American to $200k/year, which is hardly "a very few". When a government starts "equalizing" money distribution, earned honestly by its hard-working people, it's one GIANT step closer to socialism. Which, in case Pelosi has never read a history book, has never worked in the history of the world.

Sure we need healthcare reform. But stealing from the rich to care for the poor is still stealing.

I know that I'm opinionated, which is why I usually try to stay away from political commentary. But, really folks... Really...

I wonder how you email congressmen...

Overheard

Walking out of the Navy Hospital today ("severe allergic reactions" keep me comin') I overheard a woman say:

"Ugh! Whenever I see a Marine I get pissed off at my son all over again... I could just beat that child!"

I still think it's funny.

It is Monday

These are the reasons that chocolate cake is always better than chips:

Chips require dip. Rarely am I content to eat chips alone. They don't slide well down the back of one's throat without dip.

Here's the problem with dip: If you don't make it yourself (and who does on a Monday when alone all day?) *ahem* If you don't make it yourself, the inevitable short or broken chips, which deserve dip just as much as the whole ones, are incapable of reaching deep enough in the jar to scoop anything out. Which means you either have to scoop the dip out into a separate dish (Monday. Alone. Make more dirty dishes? Not a chance.) or use a larger chip to scoop an extra amount of dip that will be enough for itself AND the handicapped chips. This is how that looks:

I grab a handful of chips. Mostly broken. Saving the large one, I put the rest in my mouth and, trying not to chew or salivate on them, I quickly use the whole chip to scoop enough dip for all of them and shove it in my mouth with the others, only then chewing. This way they all have dip.

Here's the problem with that: I am reading a book. I do not have enough hands or attention span for the complicated chip/dip relations. I disapprove of junk food taking up too much attention. It's junk food because it's easy. Non-easy junk food is worthless.

And we come full circle: Chocolate cake requires no frosting. It requires only one hand. It tastes better. It lends itself well to being eaten while reading a book.

Consider yourselves well-informed. Feel free to cite this post in future term papers on the matter.

I Like to Share Music

If my soul was a song, this would be it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PnYG5bBeq7E

Listen through 'till the end. It's my soul we're talking about.

Thirty-Four Cents

I spent thirty-four cents for all of this today. I love "CVS-ing".*

In other news, this photo was taken with Jon's birthday present. Jon and I are both camera hogs.



*moneysavingmom

Breathe a Sigh and Bathe in Oatmeal

Upon the return of my two-week trip, I have these words of wisdom:

1. When clearing out overgrowth with a machete (!) don't assume that just because you have never gotten poison ivy, you cannot get poison something else. A week later.

2. When driving south of Atlanta, don't assume that just because the speed of traffic is 20 over, your cowing to peer pressure will not get you singled out as the one the nice cop man decides to pull over.

3. When pulled over by the nice cop man who asks if you went to UVA, if your car is comfortable to drive in and chats with your sister's boyfriend about the Army, while standing in the rain, don't assume he will let you off with only a warning. But he might. And he did.

4. When let off with just a warning, count it as one of those "good and perfect gifts" that James talks about and let your husband drive the rest of the way home.