I was in Wal Mart the other day, innocently walking through the health and beauty section looking for some reading glasses.
We call them cheaters and I swear the older I get the more I need a pair in every single room of the house and two in the kitchen.
I’m old y’all.
And while I admit I have a hard time reading the fine print on labels, I didn’t have any trouble identifying these products when I turned the corner in search of eyeball magnification.
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Tush toys?
Vibrating rings?
Little suckers?
Shelf upon shelf of …. accessories.
And to think I used to take my mother shopping here.
As well as the ceremony at the Beirut Memorial, my husband’s squadron hosted a reunion dinner. And as you can imagine, being surrounded by old Marines telling stories is just about my husband’s favorite place to be.
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From left to right… Corporal, Gunny, Captain.
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The next day it was a picnic at the marina on base.
More old comrades, more stories.
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And while they were on the air station? A chance to refamiliarize themselves with the big toys.
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The V-22 Osprey, an 80 million dollars per nightmare of an aircraft. My husband worked on this program when the Marine Corps first adopted them to replace his beloved CH-46 helicopter. 30 years of R&D and they were still falling out of the sky. We had one crash down the road from our house when we lived in North Carolina and Marines were refusing orders to fly in them. Meant to assist troop deployment in the Middle East, it was discovered the intake clogged with sand which rendered it virtually useless. I’ve read they’ve finally worked out the kinks. Time will tell.
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A CH-53 Sea Stallion. The first heavy lift transport helicopter to be refueled in the air. I’ve been in one of these, they’re beasts.
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The Bell UH-1 Iroquois, otherwise known as the Huey…. the workhorse of the Marine Corps and beloved by Vietnam Veterans like my husband.
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The twin engine AH-1W Super Cobra with its blades folded down. This is a lean, mean, made for attack machine.
(Believe it or not yours truly can identify which of these choppers is flying over her head by sound alone. That’s what you get from living in a military town for 16 years.)
My husband was flying down to Jacksonville North Carolina for a long weekend to attend his old squadron’s 40 year remembrance reunion of the Beirut bombing.
I went to the 30th ten years ago and as you might imagine, spent most of my time standing around waiting for my husband to stop talking. And though he really wanted me to go with him again, I passed.
Though I did miss visiting with our daughter of the heart, her husband and an old Marine Corps buddy…
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I knew my husband would be better off alone on this quick trip… free to catch up and have endless conversations with fellow Marines without me tapping my toe in the background.
He argued, but in the end I was right and he had a great time.
Here are a few highlights.
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The major event was the ceremony at the Beirut Memorial.
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241 servicemen lost their lives that horrible day in 1983 and the Corps does not forget their sacrifice.
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This statue is a new addition to the park and honors the Navy Corpsmen who treat and protect our Marines in combat.
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The current Commandant of the Marine Corps gave a very moving speech. The husband videoed the whole thing but I’ll just drop a photo.
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The old gentleman in the middle is General Grey. He was the Commandant in 1983 and attends this ceremony of remembrance every single year. He’s 95 years of age now and is positively beloved by the Corps.
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This is my husband with Colonel Gerahty. They served together on the USS Iwo Jima and were standing on the deck of the ship side by side when the building was bombed. I can tell by my husband’s face this was an emotional reunion.
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Being a multi national peace keeping force in 1983, the Italian Navy sent representatives.
Looking back… I realize I must have been a strange child because I honestly can’t think of a single thing.
I was never afraid of monsters under the bed. I always slept in a room by myself, in the dark.
I watched horror movies under the covers, I played spotlight in the backyard.
I liked bugs, and snakes and toads.
Thankfully I grew up in a loving stable home in an era where no one had to warn me about talking to strangers or telling my parents if someone touched me inappropriately.
I had an idyllic childhood and happily sailed through it with no fears.
I have told our contractor numerous times what type of doors we want. He relays this information to the store rep he orders through.
And while the rep was on track with the living room door for some reason the bedroom door is still a problem.
I gave our contractor the door catalog and circled these three styles.
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I texted him this photo from the website.
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I specifically described the shape and style of the top window door we want. I gave him everything he needed to order said door which he passed along to the sales rep… so you can imagine my surprise when he emailed me this.
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Does that look like the door we wanted?
No, it does not. So a few days later he emailed me this.
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Does that look like the door we wanted?
Again, it does not… so a few days later he emailed me this.
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Okay, we’re getting closer… but this half fan model is a bit old fashioned and not the door that we want.
Help me out here. Am I being unclear… or is this a man thing?
Do all pretty windows look the same to the male eye?
I swear this door will be the death of me. Or at the very least the death of my sanity.
We’re still waiting for the oh so special Marvin window reps to grace us with their presence and friends, let me tell you… things are starting to get real up in here.
Last night the temps dropped into the 30’s and the wind blew for hours. And when I say it blew… I mean right into the bedroom through the gaps in the faulty windows that are on either side of our bed.
Cold drafts on my neck? Yes.
High pitched whistling that woke me up at 2:09am? You betcha.
Now I don’t know about you, but I am not my best self at 2:09am. Being a lifelong insomniac means the hours between 1 and 3 are pretty much the only ones I can guarantee to be deeply asleep. So when I have to get up and scramble around the bedroom in the dark looking for something to plug the leaks?
It’s not going to be pretty.
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If you notice anything odd about the picture I took this morning it will be on the right hand side.
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Because at 2:09am in the bedroom in the dark?
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Socks is what I found to plug the drafty whistling windows.
Jesus wept.
This is my life now.
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At daybreak I did manage to rustle up some foam weatherstripping from the utility closet.
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But like every other piece of bad luck I’ve been having, there wasn’t quite enough.
When my husband goes out of town for a few days? I get busy cleaning and organizing. It’s so much easier to do when my resident hoarder isn’t around saying “No… you can’t throw that out!”
First up was our utility (slash pantry slash I don’t know what to do with it so stick it in there) closet. I was merciless and got rid of a huge pile of worthless odds, ends and scraps. And buried under all that crap?
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A whole lotta plastic wrap, tin foil and Ziploc baggies. When the next supply chain apocalypse arrives? We’re ready.
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After that clean out I moved on to our walk in closet. This is always a nightmare because I can’t resist a bargain when it comes to clothes shopping at thrift stores. I rarely take time to try things on when I’m there because hey… when a pair of jeans costs $2 and doesn’t fit? Who cares.
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Turns out our closet shelves cared because they were positively sagging under the weight.
Question- how many pairs of jeans and capris did I have to try on and sort?
Answer- 56.
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Nine bags of assorted jeans, capris, blouses, sweaters, purses and shoes ready to give to charity.
There’s nothing like a good purge.
It’s good for the soul..
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 