No blog for you!

Not yet, anyway. I'm doing the do-si-do with Time Warner once again. 'Net should be back up at home tomorrow or Friday, and I'll get a good post then. (I'm using SAC's net right now, and it's slow and makes Blogger hate me.)

Artifacts.

My car has regained lawn ornament status.

It died yesterday afternoon, thank God at the bank o' mailboxes up by the front of the trailer park. It was, to say the least, a hell of a surprise. I hadn't been having any trouble with the car, that day or at all last week or in recent memory. (Hey, it's 14-years-old. Trouble is to be expected.) So to get in and turn the key and have absolutely nothing happen was a bit of a surprise, to put it mildly.

The landlord helped me get the car home. We tried jumping it, and I was able to get back enough juice to roll up the windows. So it's probably just a dead battery. I jump-started my cousin Becky's car a couple of times in the recent past.

But when I have a problem like that I think alternator as well, as far as possibilities go. So while I was sitting there waiting for the landlord to come up from the back of the park to give the car a shove, I opened up the glove compartment to dig for the warranty for the repair work to the transmission and new alternator that was done about a year and a half ago. I didn't think it was there, but it gave me something to do.

It wasn't, but a lot of other crap was. Buddy Bucks, the current insurance card as well as a couple of old ones...the usual detritus.

I also pulled out a sheet of paper from a little Lisa Frank notebook that Bobbie had a couple or three years ago. I wasn't sure what it was, so I unfolded it. It was an address, a set of directions. With Rob's handwriting on it.

You'd think, more than a year after the divorce was final, that all his stuff would have been successfully sifted out of my stuff. And 99% of it has been. But there are odd things here and there. I recently made Linda a dress using a pillowcase he left behind. A black work sock or two lurks here and there. A book. I refuse to give back the photograph of the battle group he was once attached to; I rather like it.

That paper's the only thing I can think of with his handwriting on it. There's a time finding it would have hit me like a punch to the gut.

Not anymore. It's just a strange little thing to find, a reminder of a bygone era. One I'm rather glad to be past, to be honest.

I am easily distracted.

Oooh, SHINY!

I am also badly in need of caffeine. Gah. Three straight days of going to bed at midnight or later feel a lot different at 30 than at 18, I'll tell you what. On the plus side, I do not have to get up tomorrow. And I am home now, so I do have access to said caffeine (precious, darling Diet Coke, a la Dr. Grumpy).

First exam in Chemistry, taken care of.

First exam in Math, coming up in two weeks.

First story in Creative Writing, written and awaiting scheduling for Workshop on Monday.

Screw this, I'm gonna go see if Murphy's updated his blog...You should too. Maybe if there's a slight (as that's all I can provide) jump in his stats, he'll start blogging more often. Then again, he's about the only one out there making me look productive...

Your stupid's showing.

WOAI had this one yesterday.

The War on Christmas has started early around here.

There State Board of Education is proposing a slight change in the World Cultures curriculum. (There was no such thing when I was in sixth grade; if I recall correctly it was one of our two Texas History years.) Apparently, there's a portion where cultures are studied through the lens of religious holidays.

The change being proposed will have this look at said holidays study one from each of the world's six major religions (Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, & Jainism). Currently, two from Judaism and Christianity are studied, and apparently none from Hinduism, as the insertion of Diwali is what's being debated.

It is being proposed that Rosh Hashanah be scrapped, and I guess that's OK 'cause those people don't even cross themselves right. Or something.

But we can't drop Christmas! According to Jonathan Saenz of the Texas Free Market Foundation (which, as a "libertarian" group, really shouldn't be in favor of teaching any religious holidays in school, methinks), "it's hard for anyone to argue that any other holiday has the same significance that Christmas does, especially in American societies."

He is right, of course. Christmas's importance in American society stretches far beyond religious observances. Virtually everyone here celebrates the holiday in some form. Even neoPagans do this, some of whom erect a "solstice tree" and proclaim the evergreen's ties to a whole bunch of religions they don't practice. (It's okay to co-opt a symbol that's been Christian at least since the Reformation, so long as you proclaim it to have in turn been co-opted from pagans by the Catholic church. But I digress.) Certainly, it's a Federal holiday, and there is always a Christmas tree in the White House and typically at each State capitol, and of course at every friggin' mall in existence, not to mention Wal-Mart...It's all over in the US.

And it is precisely because he is right about Christmas's significance that he is wrong that it should not be dropped from the curriculum.

Apparently, sixth graders aren't the only ones who need to be taught what Christianity's holiest day actually is.

Random shit.

I don't feel like exercising my brain enough to string together something coherent, so you're going to get a bunch of, well, exactly what it says. Fair warning: almost none of these things are connected to any of the others.

• I just got a flirtatious little message with the subject line "Do you like Marines?" *checks* Yep. Still female. Still got a pulse. Of course I like Marines. Are there women who don't? Still, I must admit, the overwhelming urge is to send the boy over to Murphy to be put through his paces. Oh, and to giggle like hell, because it's just funny (the message happened to come from a 22-year-old).

• High up on my list of things I figure will get your ass pulled over fast: Not just running a red light in front of a cop, but cutting him off so sharply you almost clip his front fender as you are making a right turn out of the center lane while running said red light. I was wrong on this.

• I keep getting phone calls from an 860 area code. This is Connecticut. Specifically, this is the area of Connecticut which includes Groton. Googling the number, it seems to be telemarketing, which is what I figured, and why I never answered. Still, possibly-Groton phone calls make me nervous. I figure I'll answer anything that is caller IDed as US GOVERNMENT, and the hell with the rest of it. Oh, and I'll gladly ship them Rob. Just for the record.

• One of my Facebook friends is disgruntled with the NEISD because she had to pull her children out of school today in order for them to listen to the President's speech (apparently unaware it's posted on the White House website). She's writing a letter. Of course, she didn't see fit to advocate for airing the speech last week, when the decision was being made. Easier to complain after the fact?

• Thanks to the Pistolero, I am remembering how much I love George Strait. That man is so damn talented. I do not think he's done a single thing I don't like, and I can't say that of anyone else.
  

• Speaking of which, my long lost twin brother, why are we not Facebook friends?

• My friend Marie makes the most amazing Tunisian-crochet Afghans. She made one for a fellow overseas, from a patch he sent. The afghan has a picture of a vehicle I really should know the name of (I know what it's for, just not what it's called); underneath it says "Route Clearance Vehicle Modernization Program. (It's actually called a Route Clearance Vehicle, isn't it? Am I that dumb?) The very idea of something called that amuses me greatly. For some reason it puts me in mind of Super ServMart.

• I should probably quit reading Alex's blog. It seems to always either depress me or piss me the fuck off. Or both. Of course, this is not Alex's fault. Yet again I'm reminded of one of my favorite Larry Barksdale quotes: "Sometimes I get nostalgic for my days in the Army. And then I beat my head against the wall until it goes away."

• If FoxNews is supposedly so right wing and supportive of the military, why the hell did I have to hit CNN's website for this story? (I heard about it on the radio earlier today, but I guess they got bored with it, because it didn't last past noon, & I was trying to figure out what the hell happened.) Even scrolling down past the lead stories to "world news," I couldn't find it.

• I realize I'm reading a lot of LEO blogs, but it seems the nearest fellow is Texas Ghostrider, and he's in Houston. I read three cop blogs out of California. I should be embarrassed. Anybody know if anyone on SAPD is blogging?

• Speaking of SAPD, robber ran out of a Valero this morning in front of a rookie police officer who probably just wanted coffee. Poor fellow wound up with what I imagine was a metric butt-ton of paperwork to fill out instead. The news story contained the line "the victim has died of his wounds." Let's be a little more clear with this, please. This is how you say it next time: "The dumbass who pointed a shotgun at a police officer is no longer wasting the time of a trauma team at BAMC."

• Although I grasp the issues with speed and death that exist, I still smile every damn time I see a soldier on a motorcycle. I am not sure why.
  

• I bought my own birthday presents this year. This involved a lingerie store and, eventually, a dirty martini. And Fred was as appreciative as a man can be long distance.

• I have four pages of fiction due tomorrow. I had a page and a half due Friday. I actually had three pages on Friday (it was an entire scene). I actually finished the story Sunday night and can now print off pages as required. The short story is 16 pages long. I seriously doubt it will go beyond the class, but it is something I am proud to have written. I am also lucky enough to have paired up with a very smart and talented girl for a critique partner. I am having visions of a writing group that lasts beyond the end of the semester.

• While picking up the girls from school last week, the woman in front of me at the sign-in window complained to the woman in the office that she'd parked out in front of the school, come in to pick up her child, and returned to find a parking ticket. Mind you, there are signs which say NO PARKING ANY TIME about every 10 feet along the street in front of the school. Perhaps that should have been a clue.

• It is good to be back at the gym, and yet a reminder of why I am not like other women. For a grown woman at least my size (if not a little wider) to try to hide behind a half-size locker while wrapped in a towel so that nothing shows while she's getting dressed...well, I didn't laugh. I'm proud of myself. I was, however, disgruntled that because she was so obviously uncomfortable with nudity I couldn't, in good conscience, strip down at my locker like I usually do before heading in to the showers. Women, please. We've all got the same equipment.

• And while I am on that subject. How the hell long can it take one woman to get dressed? I came in, I took off my shirt, socks, & shoes and grabbed a towel, went and took a damn shower, including washing my hair (it comes down to my butt, so this is not a quick thing). Came out. She's still wrapped in a towel. I got dressed. I was waiting for my mother to finish with an appointment, so I went outside to the lobby and read for about ten minutes. Went back into the locker room. She was still there. It took the woman about forty minutes to get dressed and primp and leave, during which time she spent at least five minues straightening out the zipper on her jacket, 20 minutes in front of a mirror doing her face and/or hair, and somehow managed to leave greasy smudges on the full length mirror by her locker. I do not get women.

• Tropical storm Linda? Funny. Tropical storm Fred? Heh. Learning about both on the same day? Hilarious. Seriously, I have been giggling about it since this morning.
  

'Tis all for now, folks.

This is either sublime or ridiculous.

So I'm sitting there in church today, listening to the sermon and crocheting and trying to corral the children, when I hear the door open and someone come in.

Now, the service I go to, we don't actually get to use the church for it. We're in the parish house, in Tom Gish hall, which is set up with a table/altar, some chairs, smaller tables, projection screen, etc. It's pretty laid back. After all, they put up with my kids boogie-ing in the corner on a regular basis.

Still, there are some things you don't think you'll see.

So I heard this noise of someone coming in and looked up to see who it was. It was Tony. Which actually didn't register at first. Because of what he was carrying: a pet carrier. So my first thought actually wasn't "Huh, I thought Tony had deployed already," it was "How is Jonathan going to work a small animal into the sermon?" Only then did it register who was carrying it.

I'm not sure what it says of me that as soon as I realized who it was bringing the carrier into the service that it all made perfect sense.

So Tony sat the carrier down and sat down, and I looked over to see what he had with him. He had two cats. One black. One white. Both very, very quiet, for which I was grateful. Not so much for the sake of the sermon, which was one of those eye-rollers (A battered woman came to you for help on a Sunday morning and you had to stop and think about it? Really? Good priest! No wonder you thought it was OK to compare Obama to God.), but mostly for the sake of my children and my sanity, because the last thing I wanted to deal with right then was three small, cat-crazy little girls catching sight of a pair of kitties.

Ever hear "Mississippi Squirrel Revival"? My imagination pictures something very similar, only with more claws & sharper teeth.

Still had to pull the girls away from the carrier during the Peace, though.

And I am not 100% certain whether bringing a brace of felines into the service is the coolest thing ever, or the weirdest.

One more time...

Marine, a graduate of Judson, is killed.

Retired Air Force Lt. Col. James Grace, senior aerospace science instructor at Judson, remembered (Christopher) Baltazar, 19, as a quiet, respectful young man who seemed more comfortable in camouflage than a military dress uniform.

Using a compass and map, Baltazar and his JROTC orienteering team from Judson would compete against other schools in timed land-navigation drills at Camp Bullis. They would run virtually the whole time through a rugged course extending at least a mile or two, Grace said.

“He was more into the idea of getting out there and being a hardcore military guy,” he said.

***

“He was always a real funny, joyful, happy person,” (Will Weber) said. “He was so excited about being a Marine. He believed in honor and serving his country.”

Christopher's mom is in the Army. He came by it honestly.

Most of us are aware of the phenomenon of the military running in families. My ex-husband's father retired from the Air Force. Rob was in the Navy. Both my parents were in the Army at different times; my brother was in the Air Force. (My mom was also an Army wife once upon a time, I guess I followed in that path.)

I can't imagine how his mother feels right now. Well, actually, I can. It's a fear I think is common to every parent out there, to outlive your kids. Ssgt. Beatriz Alberts, his mom, works at Walter Reed. I'm certain she knew exactly what he was risking.

I'm sure she is proud of him.

San Antonio calls itself Military City. I'm sure we're not the only ones. We earn it, though. We send lots of men and women off to serve our country. A willingness to confront evil is writ in the history of this town.

Christopher Baltazar is the third San Antonian killed in Afghanistan in a month. I will leave discussions of that war to better minds than I.

I am tired. I dislike death. I dislike our men who want to make the world a better place dying while it all falls to hell. I'm already at my "give the women & children 72 hours to clear out and bomb the place into a glass parking lot" point. (Oh, but let's make sure the AP stays behind to take pictures of it, OK?) Granted, it might put a small dent in the world's heroin supply, but I think somehow we'll manage.

Wordless Wednesday: Tuesday's Sunrise

Heads OUT of the sand!

I'm in an argument on Facebook right now over a link I posted that one of my friends re-posted.

It was this story from Alex's blog: The Politics of Purse Strings.

I shared his post with hopes of getting the word out about the problems with the new GI Bill. You really, really need to read the whole thing, but here's a small part:

Under the old bill, Chapter 30, the student must call a hot line on the last day of the month to certify that their status has not changed since the previous month. The payment is then sent to the student in seven to ten days. It has become a ritual for veteran students, a promise to see that beautiful deposit in a week's time. But today, some who have submitted paperwork for Chapter 33 might find the certification for Chapter 30 a bit of a challenge. My school's VA counselor assured a seamless transition - he told me those who were switching over would get paid for the months they already paid tuition for. Once again, someone forgot to forward the memo. Since my claim for Chapter 33 is still being processed, I'm locked out of Chapter 30. Even though I paid for the summer semester, I am not getting paid for August. My case is in limbo, familiar territory for the VA. My bills, on the other hand, are very clearly defined. They pile up as fast as the VA's backlogs.

You know, this is the sort of shit anyone who supports the military needs to be up in arms about. It pissed me the hell off when I first read about it, and I've been considering posting about it & checking Army of Dude and Rucksack to Backpack to see what they said about it, with the intention of adding my voice to it.

It does no good to say "But the new GI Bill is great! My husband will be able to transfer his benefits to me!" Let me be clear: I know that. I knew that before it was ever signed into law. I know what the new GI Bill is SUPPOSED to do. What it's SUPPOSED to do is wonderful. But what it's DOING is fucking people over yet again.

I am not content to say "Oh, well, the system works most of the time!" Because, you know what? It doesn't. Only someone who has zero experience with the Veterans' Administration would ever say that. Now that those words are out in cyberspace, a bunch of people who work at the VA are now laughing hysterically, and they're not quite sure why. Never before have I seen the VA accused of competence!

Further, I was told that we need to spread the good news, not concentrate on the bad stuff. Fuck that. No, what we need to do is spread the good news when there is good news, and shout it from the goddamned rooftops when our guys are being bent over again. The military doesn't use lube, y'all.

This isn't just Alex's problem. It's the problem of damn near a quarter million veterans. According to the VA, almost 500,000 vets will be attending college this year. This means a minimum 40% of the applications have yet to be processed. I've been told the issue is one faced by a minority (and, quite recently, that it's probably their own fault). Forty percent is a substantial quantity. (And if the projected increase falls short, it only grows--minus the projected 30% increase, the number of unprocessed claims would jump to about 60% of all college-going veterans.)

I don't think it's doing them a disservice if we all ask where the hell their money is. They fought and bled and buried their friends for us, the damned least we can do is pay attention to what they need and be willing to fight for it. Really.