Because my husband won't get his ass on Facebook

I'd write something about them, but, honestly, I am done. I woke up this morning to a dachshund with a swollen eye and wound up running him to the vet to the tune of $600 and 7 pulled teeth. Combine that with the usual Halloween craziness and I am done. Like the turkey's done gone dry done. Like don't even bother with the dang fork done.

I'm going to bed.

Oh, and these pictures are in reverse order and I cannot be bothered to fix it. So. There. Sure hope CAPM MLF likes 'em.

Daniel is Traveling Tonight on a Plane

My youngest brother is, as I type, going back to war. It's the third time he's left the safety of our land to head east, to do the job he is sworn to do regardless of the danger to his body or, perhaps more importantly, to his soul. Last time it was to Iraq. This time it is to Afghanistan. The risks seem to be greater with each assignment. He is smart and brave and knows it is better to fight the enemy through kindness, wit, friendship, and tea than with firearms, hatred, and fear.  I hope his men follow his lead.  They would be wise to do so, and then, he too would be safer.

We who love him must again hold our breath tightly in chests, keeping him safe with whispered prayers and silent tears. We'll busy ourselves, like we did last time, with the holidays and care packages and "Danny Club" dinners.  But mostly, we'll pray.  Fervently, ardently, we'll pray.

We lost one amongst us.  For many reasons, she couldn't do it again and had to leave.  She's missed.  Sorely.  An empty hole where once stood a sister.  Alas, however, it is for the best.  Patriots are a hard lot to live with and most people haven't the courage to continue standing.  You see, patriotism isn't that intense feeling you get when you hear the Star Spangled Banner or see our flag waving proudly over Arlington National Cemetary.  That feeling is pride.  Patriotism is something wholly more profound and challenging.  

Patriotism is the love of country over self, a willingness to sacrifice personally for the benefit of the state.  Patriots don't put magnetic yellow ribbons on their cars and call it a day.  They don't think sending cookies and used magazines to the troops is well enough.  They don't wrap themselves in the flag or the American Legion and then insist that military duty is optional or, at best, falls somewhere after social obligations.   True patriots don't gussy up for the military ball and then refuse to ship out.  They don't disparage their fellow Americans for their religion or their dress or their language, either.

Patriots live within their means, refusing to contribute to our national economic hardships through their personal deficits.  Patriots take government jobs for less pay than private sector jobs.  They work unending hours to make our democracy work.  They run for public office knowing far too well that not only will their reputation be dragged through the mud, but the reputations of their spouses, parents, and sadly, even their children.  Patriots give money to the poor and don't begrudge the IRS.  They vote for property tax increases to better our schools.

And patriots go off to war.  In far away lands.  They put that sworn duty above all else.  All else.  Above money, home, education, family, even God.   Some fight.  Some die.  Some come home broken.  Some are hardly home at all.  But they all have a club, a Danny Club, who join their hands, weeping and hoping, praying and holding breath, till the day they come home.  

And so we stand, till he does come home.  We stand together.  And we wait.   And pray.

And now for something totally different

Okay. So I thought I could handle it till the election. I mean, it is only just a little over a week away.

But I can't.

I can't take one more email. I can't take one more outlandish, outrageous, absurd lie about Barack Obama.

I just can't.

I've laughed till I cried at the daily emails sent to me by my well intentioned neighbor who is convinced that Senator Obama is a Muslim communist terrorist who should get deported, because, of course, he is not an American citizen.

But yesterday I spent the last of my patience with the crazy rumors when I talked to my Irish Catholic, Kennedy-loving mother in law who somehow got herself wrapped up in an email convincing her that Barack Obama is the AntiChrist.

If you don't like Obama because of his politics or his policies or his color or his style or his wife or his gender or his shoe size, then just say so. But please, I beg of you, don't forward internet nonsense. This stuff is winding up in the boxes of the ignorant and vulnerable and it can be downright dangerous. Surely, you haven't forgotten it is a sin to bear false witness on your neighbor.

Firstly, Senator Obama is not a Muslim. I would have NO problem with him if he was, but he isn't. He was baptized in 1988 at Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago. He hasn't released his baptismal certificate because historically no presidential candidates do.

Interestingly, according to Fox News (and you can take that for what it's worth), John McCain has NOT been baptized. http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,296973,00.html

Senator Obama is, and always has been, an American. I know, it is hard for many of you mainlanders to believe, but Hawaii is indeed a part of the US of A. Barack Obama was born in Honolulu, Hawaii (same as my very American kids). His birth certificate can be viewed online, if you don't believe me. http://www.factcheck.org/elections-2008/born_in_the_usa.html

John McCain, however, was NOT born in the United States. He was born in Panama. But you don't see your inbox getting filled up with petty crap about that, do ya? No. You don't.

Oh, and yes, Senator Obama did register for selective service. On September 4, 1980 to be exact. His registration number is 61-1125539-1.

http://pajamasmedia.com/blog/obama-did-obama-actually-register-for-selective-service/2/

And ya know that crack headed email from missionaries in Kenya about Obama being Muslim and Odinga's cousin? Yeah, that was written by the same crack headed missionaries who claim our flag is satanic. And if you want to align yourself with them, well, then, you're a crack head.

http://web.archive.org/web/20070820011329/http://www.lorendavis.com/news_articles_sirius.html

Here's another huge conspiracy debunked... easily. The reason you can't find any copies of the articles Obama published as a professor at the University of Chicago is... drum roll please... because he didn't publish any articles as a professor at the University of Chicago.

Huh.

Senator Obama also really isn't an alien super hero from the planet Krypton. That was a joke.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vws9fTtQgz4

He doesn't eat live goldfish or huff poop. He loves his kids and his country and Chicago pizza. He wasn't born wealthy and didn't grow up poor. He's just a regular, old middle class dude that done good.

Oh, and Barack Obama never said, “My friends, we live in the greatest nation in the history of the world. I hope you’ll join with me as we try to change it.”

http://corner.nationalreview.com/post/?q=Y2M5NTgwNDhkZTJmYWQ1MDcwNjEzOGE0Y2ZhNzc3NzQ=

Did I leave anything out? If I did, please, by all means, clog up my inbox with it. I haven't anything better to do with my time than play research monkey to all the unpatriotic haters of American democracy who obviously sit around thinking of more insanity to add to the mix in order to avoid talking about the real issues that affect real Americans.
And remember, when you forward that crap, you too are guilty of bearing false witness and will have to atone for your actions.

Start with forwarding this email to start spreading a little truth out there.

For all you undecideds out there

Listen to the wisdom of a 20 month old.

Our Sweetest Day Anniversary

As some of you may know, 18 years ago today (October 18th), Mike and I fell in love.

To commemorate the day, I put together a slideshow of our years together. What can I say, my parents are in town and I had a few minutes to myself. LOL!

It's been a long 18 years, but I love him more now than I did then. With him so far away, I miss him, like the desert misses the rains.

As the song says, and I forgive him for being away for far too long.

I love, you. Happy anniversary. You better be home when we celebrate 36 in 18 more years.