Wordswoman

Freedom of Speech: A Primer

Wed, 01 Aug 2012 18:38:46 GMT

Because both liberals and conservatives seem to be having trouble understanding this lately, let's spell it out:

You are free to express any opinion you wish.
Your opponents, even the vilest, are free to do the same.
The fact that people may vehemently disagree with your speech and consider you [an immoral hell-bound God-mocker][a hate-mongering narrow-minded bigot] as a result is not "persecution".
The fact that your free speech may have consequences--for example, in influencing people to frequent or avoid your business, or inciting lawsuits for libel or slander or discrimination--is not "persecution" either.
Your opinion is not the law of the land, no matter how emphatically you express it.

Carry on.

The Emperor's New Alien Movie

Mon, 11 Jun 2012 12:07:12 GMT

Ridley Scott is great at atmosphere and striking visuals. But this movie is so stupid it is nearly incoherent. Supposedly smart scientists do moronic things over...and over...and over. Because if they didn't, they wouldn't get to die in spectacularly gross fashion for our entertainment.

"Hey, there's air here, let's all TAKE OFF OUR HELMETS on this unknown alien world with all these alien corpses lying around. It'll be fine!" "But Bob, somebody who did that yesterday had alien worms come out of his eyeballs and had to be killed with fire..." "Oh, shut up and breathe the sweet air."

"Let's screw." "I wouldn't do you if you were the last man on earth." "Yeah, but the plot requires me to be away from the communications center long enough for two more crewmembers to die horribly." "My quarters, big boy. Ten minutes."

"Oh, look, alien goo. I think I will slip some in a crewmember's drink. Why? No friggin' clue. But perhaps it will have an utterly inexplicable effect that I will somehow be able to predict even though I have been here on this world all of ten minutes, and only a scriptwriter on SERIOUS drugs would imagine it would do any such thing."

"I had major abdominal surgery 2 minutes ago. See how I run!"

This film, like its characters, is too dumb to live.

Honoring the Fallen

Mon, 28 May 2012 13:27:21 GMT

Enjoy the extra day off. Enjoy the family time. But please take a moment to get to know at least one of the faces on this page:

Honor the Fallen.

25 of them died in May alone, in our country's wars, in all our names.

The most recent as I post this, Army 2nd Lt. Travis A. Morgado, was from Theo's brigade.

Web Links for Ft. Jackson BCT Units

Thu, 23 Feb 2012 19:03:08 GMT

"Does my soldier's unit have a Facebook page?" is another frequently-asked question on the Ft. Jackson Facebook page...so I'm compiling all the relevant links to basic training units in one place.

193rd BRIGADE (BDE) BATTALIONS/REGIMENTS:

1-13th: Ft. Jackson Website Page | Facebook Page

2-13th: Ft. Jackson Website Page | Facebook Page

3-13th: Ft. Jackson Website Page | Facebook Page

2-60th: Ft. Jackson Website Page | Facebook Page

3-60th: Ft. Jackson Website Page | Facebook Page

165th BRIGADE (BDE) BATTALIONS/REGIMENTS:

1-34th: Ft. Jackson Website Page | Facebook Page
Company Facebook pages: Alpha | Bravo | Charlie | Delta | Echo | Foxtrot

3-34th: Ft. Jackson Website Page | Facebook Page
Company Facebook pages: Alpha | Bravo | Charlie | Delta | Echo | Foxtrot

2-39th: Ft. Jackson Website Page | Battalion Facebook Page exists but appears inactive
Company Facebook pages: Alpha | Bravo | Charlie (and see also Charlie Centurion) | Delta | Echo | Foxtrot
NOTE: the 2-39th creates new Facebook pages for each training cycle, which means the previous links go bad after 10 weeks and I have to hunt for the new ones. Any companies without links above are ones I have not yet found for this training cycle.

1-61st: Ft. Jackson Website Page | Facebook Page
Company Facebook pages: Alpha | Bravo | Charlie | Delta | Echo | Foxtrot

Families of newly arrived trainees should also see my BCT 101 post.

A note about BCT units: Sometimes a family member will post something like, "My son is in Alpha Co. 1st platoon, where is their Facebook page?" That is NOT enough info to correctly identify the unit! You need the battalion/regiment #. Every battalion is made up of 6 companies named A-F (Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo, and Foxtrot), and every one of those companies has platoons numbered 1 through whatever. There are nine different Alpha companies at BCT, and 36 different platoons called 1st Platoon! So the more info you have, the quicker you will find your way to the correct page.

Just an FYI:

A platoon is about 35-50 soldiers.

4-6 platoons make up a company.

4-6 companies make up a battalion.

5-6 battalions make up a brigade.

Writer's Block: Party of Five

Fri, 10 Feb 2012 03:29:56 GMT

If you could invite four people-living or dead- to a dinner party, who would they be?

View 728 Answers

My dad (still miss him so)
Mark Twain
Cleopatra
Dorothy Parker

A Family's Guide to Basic Training at Ft. Jackson, SC

Tue, 31 Jan 2012 20:42:02 GMT

It's been almost two years since my husband went to Ft. Jackson for BCT (Basic Combat Training). But I remain obsessed with the Ft. Jackson page on Facebook, haunting it in hopes that I can be helpful to other new Army families who are as dazed & bewildered as I was in those early weeks.

I'm no kind of expert. Mostly, what I do is simply direct traffic--pointing new folks to the Facebook link for their loved one's specific BCT battalion and/or company (if they have one). Once I get 'em there, they are in far better hands than mine! But those pages aren't always easy to find, and a lot of questions end up asked on the main Ft. Jackson page--where they may or may not get an answer.

Since the same questions get asked over and over every cycle (heck, every week!), I am collecting my BCT Basics here for easy linking convenience.

It's behind a cut due to length...

My loved one has just arrived at Ft. Jackson for BCT. What happens next??

Your soldier-in-training (SIT) arrives first at what's called Reception, or Reception Battalion. That's where the new SITs do all their in-processing: paperwork, medical/dental screenings, shots, haircuts, being issued uniforms and dogtags, etc. They also begin their orientation in Army procedures & values.

Reception typically lasts a few days, but it can last as much as a week or more. During this time, your SIT may be able to call or text you occasionally...but that's not for certain, and you should not be concerned if you don't get any such contact after an initial "Hey I arrived!" phone call. They are very busy and very tired, and there's no guarantee they will have a phone signal or anyplace to recharge their phones. It does not mean anything is wrong if you hear only silence from your SIT during Reception.

At the conclusion of their time in Reception, your SIT will get picked up by his or her assigned BCT unit to begin training. That pickup marks the beginning of their 10 weeks of BCT (time in Reception does not count).

When will I get phone calls from my loved one?

SITs are supposed to get a brief phone call at these points:

Soon after arrival, just to inform you that they've arrived safely. Sometimes this call comes while they're still at the Columbia SC airport, sometimes later when they are actually in Reception.
Within 72 hours of being picked up from Reception by their assigned BCT unit, to let you know their unit info.

That's it, folks! Lots of of you will get more calls during those 10 weeks. A lucky few may get a call almost every week. But other than the above occasions, SITs are never promised or guaranteed any phone calls. Calls are a privilege awarded at the discretion of their unit's chain of command, and that privilege can be lost if anybody in their unit screws up.

The most common time to get additional calls is at the end of a phase (about every 3 weeks) or if your SIT's unit wins a competition. But it's really unpredictable. Every unit is different. Some believe phone calls are a distraction and award the privilege very rarely. Others are more liberal. There's really no predicting it from afar. So a good motto is, "Hope for calls but count on the mail!"

Other info about calling:

Their personal cell phones get taken away when they are picked up from Reception to begin BCT with their assigned unit.
When they do get phone privileges, some units will hand back the trainees' own cell phones...while others will require the SITs to use pay phones with a phone card. So it's good to be prepared for both possibilities. This means making sure your SIT has important phone #s written down, not just stored in their cell phone, and that he or she has a prepaid phone card to use.

What address do I write to?

You won't know that until your SIT leaves Reception and gets assigned to his or her regular BCT unit to begin training. Addresses are specific to the unit. Typically you will get that info from your SIT, either in that brief phone call mentioned above, or in a letter that will arrive somewhere around the 10-14 day point.

Here is a helpful link for more info about mail:
Soldier Mail
http://www.jackson.army.mil/sites/bct/info/show/6
This page explains how to find out where your loved one is assigned, and how to address your letters once you do. NOTE: Do *not* call the phone # provided on that page unless it's been 7-10 days since your SIT's arrival at Ft. Jackson, and you are immediate family (parent, spouse, sibling) who can provide the SIT's full name and SS#.

Please note that there is often a time lag in their mail at first. Do not panic if you get sad letters from your SIT saying that he's not getting your mail! The time lag is temporary and it gets better soon.

What can I send?

Letters, cards, and family-friendly photos are the best things to send. You can also send phone cards, stamps, and writing materials in your letters.

Although packages are allowed, there are very strict rules about what you can send. No food or candy of any kind, no reading material, no games or other amusements. Most units even restrict what kind of cough drops you can send! Basically, if it's tasty, fun, or entertaining...it's probably forbidden. It's safest to just wait and see if your SIT requests that you send something specific that he/she knows is allowed by his unit.

The sort of things that are typically allowed in care packages are the very basics, like plain unscented toiletry products, foot powder, blister bandaids, cotton swabs, wipes, etc. Bear in mind that your SIT will have multiple occasions to go to the PX to buy essentials like these.

I heard they have to do push-ups for their mail. Is that true?

Maybe, maybe not. Some units make them do exercises for each letter, some don't. It all depends on the Drill Sergeants (DSes). But don't worry...most SITs consider it well worth the price of collecting their mail from home! It's not a punishment, it's an incentive to keep in shape for that PT test they have to pass in order to graduate from BCT.

How do I find out what my SIT is doing?

Well, they will be writing you letters, and if you are lucky you will get some calls, too. You can also follow their unit's progress through the unit's Facebook page, if they have one (not every unit does).

Here are some links that will help.

Basic Training at Ft. Jackson
http://www.jackson.army.mil/sites/bct/
This page gives a general overview of the training calendar, from week 0 (Reception) to week 10 (graduation), and each phase in between. It also gives you links to pages about the specific BCT units. You'll want those links once you know which unit your SIT belongs to.

Fort Jackson BCT Unit Links
http://tinyurl.com/BCTlinks
This is my own compilation of links to Ft. Jackson BCT units, both on the Ft. Jackson website and on Facebook where available. I can't swear that I have found every page that's out there, but I've collected every one that I could verify.

Fort Jackson Facebook Page
https://www.facebook.com/FortJacksonLeader
If you can't find a Facebook page for your SIT's unit, ask on the main Ft. Jackson Facebook page. Some kindly volunteer will probably be able to direct you to the right place.

When will I know the graduation date?

As soon as you find out your SITs unit info, you can look up that unit's Family Day and Graduation Day on the Ft. Jackson Graduation Calendar. To find it, click on this page and look for the Downloads link in the left sidebar. You'll see a link called BCT Graduation Calendar. You should also get a graduation packet in the mail from your SIT's unit with more information about time, place, maps/directions, getting on post, etc.

How much time do we get to spend together at graduation? What happens after graduation?

There are two big days, Family Day and Graduation Day, usually a Wednesday-Thursday. Each day kicks off with a brief (about an hour) ceremony in the morning. At the conclusion of that ceremony, you get to spend the rest of the day with your SIT. On Family Day, your SIT must stay on post. On Graduation Day, you are allowed to take your SIT off post. Both days, your SIT will have to report back to his or her unit at a specified time. The exact time will be announced at the ceremony that morning, but 8:30 p.m. is pretty typical.

Most SITs are scheduled to ship to their AIT (Advanced Individual Training, i.e. the job-specific training that follows BCT) on the day after graduation. Don't be fooled by any dates in their original paperwork that suggest they'll have time off in between BCT and AIT--in most cases they do not! Dates in their original paperwork are only an estimate. They get their final updated orders at the end of BCT.

I heard we can drive our SIT to AIT. Is this true?

It depends. Typically, it is permitted for immediate family members (such as parent, sibling, or spouse) to drive their SIT to AIT if A) it's arranged ahead of time (your SIT will get asked about this as the time draws closer) and B) the AIT location is east of the Mississippi. If this is approved for your SIT, you will get to hit the road right after graduation.

Your SIT's orders will specify a time by which he or she must report at their AIT destination, and usually it's pretty darn prompt so you won't be able to count on a leisurely road trip enjoying each other's company. There is some chance that you will arrive at AIT and get told that your SIT can have a weekend pass to spend more time with you--but you can't count on that, and you won't know till you get there.

This is all really stressing me out, I'm going crazy waiting to hear something, help help HELP!

Hey, there's a reason that the unofficial Army motto is "Hurry up and wait." Keep taking those deep breaths, keep repeating that Serenity Prayer, and know that you will get word soon--and in the meantime, trust that your loved one is in good hands and doing the very important job of learning to be a soldier.

Yes, it's hard to wait and wonder, especially for those who are accustomed to being in touch by phone, text, IM, email, etc., practically every waking minute. But it is very important to learn patience and self-reliance when you are part of a military family. BCT is a long stretch to be out of touch with your loved one, but it won't be the longest and it won't be the last. In your soldier's future there will be field exercises where they disappear for 30 days or more and you don't hear a word. There will be 24-hour CQ shifts. There will be unexpected schedule changes that ruin your weekends and upset your vacation plans. There will be deployments. There will be times of total communication blackout. It will be hard. It will be scary. You will have to be a strong person.

But the more you practice patience and fortitude now...the more you build your support system...the more you learn to handle being alone with courage and grace...the more you learn to keep yourself busy and prevent your mind from straying into those scary places where all your worst fears and insecurities lurk...the better prepared you will be for those difficult times ahead.

Loving a soldier is not an easy road, and nobody will ever pin a medal on you for it, no matter how well you do. But your soldier will know and appreciate it, and your support will mean the world.

Welcome to the Army family. :)

The value of failure

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 01:48:29 GMT

Last academic term, I had recurring problems with student workers underperforming. They didn't show up (and didn't send word about why). Or they showed up and looked industrious, but failed to complete tasks & projects in anything approaching a timely manner.

Finally, I had to fire one and take another to task. The one taken to task responded with a heartfelt apology, and it became clear that he'd become trapped in a vicious cycle of failure--unable to complete the assigned project, but equally unable to 'fess up and ask for help. The longer this continued, the more ashamed he felt about his failure, and the harder it seemed to admit that he just couldn't handle it.

Never one to miss an opportunity to offer up a motherly lecture, I replied with something I wish somebody had told ME at age 18:

That's a heavy load you've been carrying around, isn't it? I'm betting it's a relief to set it down at last.

Look, kiddo...everybody makes mistakes. And everybody gets in over their head on a project sometimes. Or a relationship. Or a--whatever. That's a given.

Also, although it's rarely discussed openly in adult life: Everybody FAILS. Just flat-out fails--falls flat on their ass in truly spectacular fashion. Sometimes it happens in a mortifyingly obvious public way. That feels worse, at the time, but it's really a gift, because there's no pretending it didn't happen. It's when it happens in private that it's so very tempting to play the cover-up game. "If I can just glue this broken plate back together seamlessly enough, Mom will NEVER have to know..."

The challenge isn't how to avoid ever falling on your ass. You can't. Nobody can. Which is a good thing, believe it or not, because we learn a heck of a lot more from our failures than our successes.

So no, the challenge is not how to remain fail-free and fall-free. The challenge is getting up again. And sometimes that calls for a helping hand. Which, yes, does require you to holler and wave--in a sheepish fashion that makes you feel both stupid and conspicuous--with a hearty cry of, "Hey! Need a little help over here!"

But help comes when you do. It almost always does, when you get past the embarrassment of asking for it. And usually the people who help you up are happy to do it, because they are just awfully grateful the fall wasn't their own (for a change).

Learning how to do that--learning that it's *OK* to do that, and necessary, and healthy--is a more important lesson than anything you will ever encounter in a classroom. So, there you go. I have contributed to your education. :)

Name That Tune

Wed, 19 Oct 2011 02:02:37 GMT

I need to find a piece of music that starts soft and anticipatory--cuing the listener that something good is about to happen--then bursts forth with a faster tempo and a lot of energy. Preferably instrumental.

I haven't a freakin' clue how to find such a thing. Anyone?

Not really about September 11th

Mon, 12 Sep 2011 00:09:25 GMT

I wrote on Facebook this morning: "My 9/11 observance is to love my soldier, to count my blessings, and to walk free in the sunlight. That feels about right."

As I write this, Theo has been in the Army 16 months, nearly half of his 33-month commitment. Most days I don't feel like an Army wife, only a lonely one. I still live where we always lived. When I visit my husband, we stay in his off-post apartment, he stays in his civvies (albeit with that distinctively Army haircut, the High Fade), and we spend the lion's share of our time in civilian spaces. I have never attended an FRG meeting, never met his commanding officer, never shopped for groceries at a commissary, never experienced a battalion sendoff or welcome-home event.

My husband is Army, but my life is civilian. And in a pecular way, that parallels the national condition: We are a country at war, a civilian population at peace.

In this strange Army-yet-not existence, I can't help but notice that we live in a nation where our tenth year at war merits fewer headlines than the latest drunken escapades of the Jersey Shore cast or the latest catfight on Real Housewives. Where supporting our troops is a bumper sticker or a lapel pin, not a personal sacrifice. Where the biggest debate about our decade-long occupation of foreign lands is its impact on the federal deficit, not the blood it has shed or the virulent new enemies it has bred.

1% of the population lives (and dies) the consequences of a decade of war. 99% of the population doesn't even have to think about it for days, weeks, even months at a time, except to complain about its price tag--the kind of price measured in dollar signs, not crosses at Arlington Cemetery.

How wrong that feels. How immoral.

When Theo joined the Army, I made peace with his decision--and oh, the irony of that expression!--by telling myself that it is important that we have an all-volunteer military, not a draft. That if men like Theo did not serve willingly, someone else's son, husband, brother, or father would have to serve unwillingly. No one should be forced to serve their country, I thought. No one should be conscripted into a service that may require their very life.

I still believe that. I fiercely believe it.

And yet. And yet. 10 years into this war, I cannot help but wonder: If draft lottery numbers were again being read on national TV, might not this war be likelier to end? If a Congressman's son or a Fortune 500 CEO's son could at any moment be drafted to bleed and die in Iraq or Afghanistan, would we still be there?

I also cannot help wondering: How "willing" are many of our volunteer military, in a nation where the unemployment rate still stands at more than 9%? In a ruined economy, it's as likely to be a paycheck as patriotism that leads someone's steps to the recruiter's office. Or health insurance: 39-Year-Old Joins Army to Save Wife's Life.

More than twice as many American lives have been lost in the Iraq and Afghanistan wars than died on 9/11. More than 6,000 and still counting. The American injured number in the tens of thousands. The Iraqi and Afghanistan civilian dead, in the hundreds of thousands. Civilian injured, perhaps in the millions.

Enough. Enough. By even the most bloodthirsty measure of justice or vengeance, enough.

Strapping on the tool belt again

Sat, 16 Jul 2011 18:16:51 GMT

Today is Demolition Day in the downstairs half-bathroom. I'm removing the old ugly vanity in preparation for a prettier (and smaller) one to come.

So far, with the help of this handy Lowe's how-to video, I've successfully unhooked the plumbing from the sink. Now taking a break to gather my nerve before trying to remove the vanity top and then the cabinet itself. Deep breath....

Before & After Pics

Mon, 30 May 2011 21:30:51 GMT

A few Before and After pics...just from my cellphone camera, but enough to get across the scope of the transformation.

Office before:

Office After:

Closet Before:

Closet After:

Project Lessons Learned (Warning: Includes Small Amount of Profanity)

Mon, 30 May 2011 21:07:20 GMT

The new closet doors are hung, and the downstairs office remodeling is well & truly finished. So it seemed like an appropriate moment to sum up what I've learned along the way.

Power tools are well worth the effort it takes to learn how to use them safely and well. While often loud and frightening, they were invented for good reason: They make every tool-bearing task easier. Make them your friends. Just bear in mind that they are the kind of friends you must always treat with utmost respect, lest they remove your limbs. Mobster-boss sort of friends. But useful.In a class of its own, in this category: The miter saw. Oh my god. I love this tool. If you have to do anything with mitered corners, you will want one of these.

If you cheat and cut corners, you will almost always regret it later. I now deeply regret my decision not to continue the Pergo into the closet. There were more weird angles to deal with in the closet, I was tired, I figured I could just throw a carpet scrap in there, etc., etc., blah blah whine whine. However, this decision came back to haunt me because it required me to add a transition strip right in the closet doorway, to cover the line between Pergo and carpet. This raised the height of the doorway just enough to make re-hanging the closet doors a royal pain in the ass. I ruined the old doors in the process. Extra expense, extra time, extra cursing and frustration. (However, I ended up with prettier closet doors, so all's well that ends well.)

Conversely, there are times you just have to say, "It's good enough." I cut the trim a little short for the piece that fits under the electric baseboard heater. It was my last piece, so unless I wanted to buy more trim, I was stuck. But c'mon, nobody is going to notice that caulk-filled gap unless they get down on their hands and knees to peer under the heater. It's good enough, and it's done.

Every home-improvement task you could possibly want to do has how-to books at the library and how-to videos online. It's a good idea to check out half a dozen or so by different people on a given topic, just to get a feel for the different approaches.

A lot of mistakes disappear under a coat of paint or a dab of wood putty. I committed a multitude of woodworking sins, but most are hidden by baseboards, quarter-round, caulk, putty, paint or all of the above.

It's best to call it a day, or at least take a break, when you are getting overtired or frustrated to the boiling point. Weariness and bad moods should not be combined with power tools. Even if you do no harm to life or limb, you will probably measure or cut badly, and waste materials.

Cussing is cathartic. You certainly find out your favorite curse words/phrases when you do a challenging project. Mine, apparently, is "you pig-fucking son of a whore." Ahem. And me so ladylike, too.

Perseverance is more important than experience. Never underestimate the power of simply not giving up.

The Time Has Come, The Walrus Said...

Sat, 21 May 2011 14:35:05 GMT

I've been deplorable about updating this journal. But here's a random sampler of What's New:

Just over a year ago, Theo shipped out to Army basic training and I wrote this entry. Now, he is completing his application to go to Special Forces Assessment and Selection (SFAS), i.e. the course to qualify for Special Forces training. If you watch this documentary about the two-week version of the course (it's now three), you'll see why I simultaneously A) think this borders on lunacy for a guy who's almost 41 and B) admire the hell out of him for wanting to try.

My office remodeling project is nearly complete. I've painted, replaced ancient carpet with a faux-red-oak Pergo floor, and mounted the trim, baseboards, and quarter-round. Along the way I've made friends with my table saw, jigsaw, and miter saw, which kindly rewarded my friendship by not amputating any of my fingers. Now all that's left is to fill in the nail holes in the trim and apply a coat of paint.

The kids are home from college for the summer, Kristen from Occidental in Los Angeles and Teagan from Allegheny in Pennsylvania. It's a joy to have life and liveliness in the house again. They both had a great year. Kristen has declared as a Japanese major and will enter her junior year this fall. Teagan is following the pre-med track, and despite a lot of cussing about her chemistry class, she finished her freshman year with a solid GPA and a great attitude. I'm very proud of them both. I am also excited that Kristen wants to learn to cook this summer! I got home from work last Tuesday to find the two of them making chicken curry and naan--delicious. It'd been many months since I ate a meal in this house that I didn't cook myself.

I find myself reconsidering my relationship to "stuff," the belongings and physical baggage of my life. I find that many of the possessions that I once worked hard to acquire now feel unnecessary, more clutter than treasure. I've donated and sold a lot of things, even books, which have traditionally been my one truly covetous packrat possession. I find myself asking, "Do I need this? Does it serve a useful purpose? Does it have sentimental value? Would I weep if it were lost in a fire? Is it easily replaceable if it turned out I missed it?" If it is neither useful nor important, and I could find another one if I someday regretted jettisoning it, then out it goes.

Part of this decluttering is mental preparation for moving. With nobody here but me for most of the year, it now feels like more of a burden than a blessing. Paying for it alone is difficult; maintaining it alone is a chore. I'm stuck in it for the immediate future, thanks to the wretched housing market, but I am slowly but surely preparing for the day it can go on the market. I only wish it could happen sooner, and that we had more than a faint forlorn hope of doing better than break-even on it. $30-$40K of equity in this place has just...evaporated. Vanished into the Brave New Economy as though it had never been.

However, it's not all about prepping for an eventual departure from this house. I'm also increasingly drawn to voluntary simplicity, to enough-is-enough living, to questioning the difference between need and want and excess and overindulgence. This is my one wild and precious life, as poet Mary Oliver would say. How much of it do I want to spend serving as an acquirer, caretaker, and storer of stuff? People are more important than things. Doing--living--experiencing--is more important than things. I feel my priorities shifting, toward exactly what I'm not sure, but...shifting.

What Is Government's Proper Role?

Thu, 21 Apr 2011 03:28:33 GMT

In the wake of the barely-averted federal budget showdown, I've found myself pondering a question: "What do I want and expect the federal government to do for me?"

What I do want (and am more than willing to pay for through my taxes):

National Security. I expect the federal government to protect the citizenry from enemies foreign and domestic. This includes maintaining trained and well-equipped military and security forces capable of repelling foreign invasions, providing border control and immigration control, monitoring potential terrorist groups and other threats, investigating and prosecuting federal crimes, etc.

National Health & Safety. The free market would never produce the FAA, the CDC, USDA, EPA, NTSB, the National Weather Service or the FDA. The free market would never provide emergency relief, enforce workplace safety standards, put out raging wildfires, fund massive medical research efforts, make buildings handicap-accessible, or force corporations to clean up after themselves.

National Infrastructure. The free market didn't build the interstate highways or the internet or the sewer system, it didn't electrify rural America, and it sure won't fill that pothole on your street. Roads, bridges, locks & dams, power grids--they are all essential to the nation's productivity, and they all require capital on a grand scale.

Education. Making education free and compulsory for all American children stands as one of the finest achievements of this country--one taken too much for granted today. Yes, it's a flawed system, but not irredeemably so, not if we can make a national recommitment to it, financing it democratically and fairly instead of allowing vast inequities between rich districts and poor ones. The American Dream starts with equal access to quality education for all our children.

Preservation & Management of National Resources. This includes natural resources--national parks and forests and other public lands, rivers, lakes, oil/gas/mineral reserves, biological diversity of plant and animal species--as well as what I'd call heritage resources: the Library of Congress, the national archives, the Smithsonian, and other precious archives of knowledge and history.

A Justice System. Government-run justice may be imperfect, but it is infinitely preferable to lynch mobs and vigilantism.

A Basic Social Safety Net. Nobody in a country as rich as America should have to starve, freeze, or sleep on the street. Nobody--but especially children--should be denied access to basic medical care.

Some of the things I do NOT expect my government to provide:

International Security. I don't believe my government is obligated (or entitled, depending on your viewpoint) to protect or police the citizenry of other countries, except in the most extreme cases of humanitarian need, e.g. widespread genocide or enormous natural disasters. American tax dollars should not be spent to build empires, influence elections, redraw borders, arm rebel forces, or dictate the political structure of other nations unless failing to do so would directly imperil the U.S. (and no, the simple existence of communism or socialism elsewhere in the world does not threaten the U.S., and no, the protection of corporate profit margins is not ample reason for U.S. military intervention). Most of the time, the U.S. needs to butt out and mind the Prime Directive.

Subsidies. Not for corporations, not for any specific industry. The only case I can see for subsidies is to keep afloat an industry without which we would be dangerously dependent on unfriendly nations for a linchpin of our national security or economy (you know...like we already are with oil).

Arts Funding. This isn't a popular position for a liberal like me, but I just don't see this as the role of government. I can see a case for government preserving the finest works of art of each generation, but not for subsidizing its creation in the first place. When it comes right down to it, I believe art has to be tough enough--strong enough--to survive in the real world without help from Uncle Sam. It may be food for the soul, but I think we've established long ago that the government is not in the soul business. I can't justify spending a tax dollar on the arts that might've been spent on housing the homeless or retraining displaced workers or researching cures for devastating diseases. Those who care about the arts need to vote with their own dollars through donations to private foundations and arts organizations.

Limitless support of able adults with no dependents young enough to require childcare. I'm not saying that the poor and unemployed should be cut off without a dime after X number of months. But if an adult of sound mind and body with no childcare expenses is going to continue to get benefits after a reasonable job-seeking period has elapsed (and the length of that period could/should be extended during economic downturns like this one), then I think the taxpayers ought to at least get something worthwhile in return, like public service. What if, after X months, an unemployed person who wanted to continue getting government aid had to do a mandated amount of volunteer work that benefits the community, like picking up roadside trash or doing odd jobs for the elderly/infirm or delivering Meals On Wheels or planting trees or swinging a hammer for Habitat for Humanity?

Tax deductions for home ownership. Owning a home is a privilege, not a necessity of life, and it is entirely possible to live a perfectly nice lifestyle in rental property. Why then should people get a tax break for having a mortgage? I like my mortgage interest deduction, sure, but I don't feel entitled to it and I don't feel the government ought to privilege my lifestyle over that of a renter.

Tax breaks for...just about anything. Set fair tax rates and stick to them. For everyone, individuals and corporations alike. Close the loopholes, eliminate the exceptions, and get the tax form down to a single unambiguous page: Your income. What tax you've already paid in. What % of your income you owe in taxes. Difference between the two.

Undoubtedly I'm forgetting a dozen equally important issues, or being hopelessly naive about why government should (or shouldn't) be involved in any of the above-mentioned. But for what it's worth, this is my list. What's yours?

Freedom Sale

Fri, 08 Apr 2011 21:10:58 GMT

Theo can already see the online pay stub for his April 15th Army paycheck, and it's been cut in half...i.e., it's his pay for April 1-8 only, in anticipation of the shutdown at midnight tonight.

Congress will continue to get their paychecks. But my husband and his fellow servicemembers--including those putting their lives on the line in war zones while Congress bickers--will have to work without pay after midnight tonight.

"Freedom isn't free," one of my Army-wife friends posted to her Facebook status, "but it's on clearance. 50% off!"

Pergo Progress

Mon, 21 Mar 2011 20:05:29 GMT

It's coming along nicely! And not only do I have most of an office floor, I still have all my fingers (knock wood...er, Pergo).

Next, I will need to master the art of installing baseboards. I suspect it'll be more finicky than removing them.

Houston, We Have Liftoff

Wed, 16 Mar 2011 02:59:35 GMT

Woo hoo, I have safely operated power tools!! I am inordinately proud of myself considering that I haven't actually laid a single Pergo plank in place yet.

However, I successfully changed the blade on the table saw and accomplished three kinds of practice cuts on my scrap wood: rip cut (lengthwise), crosscut, and a 45" mitered angle cut. And I still have all my fingers and both my eyeballs. So I'm going to count that a victory, and call it a night.

In theory I could've tried a few real cuts tonight--it's not that late--but I've decided on a firm No Power Tools When Tired rule, and I'm sticking with it. Tomorrow night I'll attempt the real deal, and at last we'll see if this flooring really snaps together as easily as advertised.

Two Steps Back

Sun, 13 Mar 2011 04:17:33 GMT

What I really need right now is somebody with a bullhorn shouting, "Step AWAY from the internet. Repeat: Step AWAY from the internet."

Because honestly, I cannot remember another news cycle in my life that has depressed and enraged me so much as the past month. I feel as though I've fallen into an alternate universe where every headline comes straight out of a dystopic novel or a disaster movie, some circle of hell where I am forced to act simultaneously in productions of The Handmaid's Tale, All The King's Men, 1984 and Lucifer's Hammer.

Missouri wants to repeal child labor laws. Republicans want women to prove their rape was really forcible enough if they want to avoid carrying their rapist's child to term. Wisconsin's governor thinks his corporate cronies should get hefty tax cuts funded by crushing unions under his bootheel. Georgia wants to criminalize miscarriage, while South Dakota wants to legalize the murder of doctors who perform abortions. And an appalling number of self-proclaimed "Christians" think the proper response to an article about the devastation in Japan is something along the lines of "That's what they get for not believing in Jesus."

Sometimes I just want to resign my membership in the human race.

Time to stop reading news headlines and go pet my dog.

Tina Ten-Thumbs

Sun, 06 Mar 2011 16:23:31 GMT

When it comes to home remodeling projects, I've done a lot of painting and not a lot of anything else.

I could blame this on a lamentable adherence to traditional gender roles, were I not such a tomboy in other ways. The truth is, I'm just sort of lazy. All about the path of least resistance, me. So when there was a handy man in my household willing and able to fix the leaky toilet or install the kitty door or rewire an outlet, I was perfectly happy to have him do so, and not at all inclined to wrest the wrench from his hand with a cry of, "I am Woman! See me plumb!" Likewise, Theo was generally content to leave most of the gardening and baking and budgeting and decorating to me.

Now I'm on my own 90% of the time, though, and that means if anything needs doing--from shoveling the driveway to installing the new smoke detector to troubleshooting why the cable internet is on the blink--I'm the one who's gotta get the job done.

Sometimes this just makes me tired. I like my weekends filled with Want Tos, not Have Tos (see above re: lazy), and a lot of those Have Tos are just damned unpleasant. The thought of going up on a snowcovered roof to check for ice dams, or replacing damaged drywall, makes me want to go back to bed and pull the covers over my head. Until June.

But lately, seduced by HGTV and glossy home-improvement books from my local library, I have caught the remodeling bug. I suspect I was rendered vulnerable by my long stretches of solitude, the silent evenings and weekends reminding me that if I hope to live in the same state with my husband before 2014, I've got to get this albatross of a house sold. Not a small feat, in this housing market. Especially not with a comfortable but unremarkable mid-1980s split-level whose original owners cut corners on materials, probably choosing to trade quality for square footage. The remodeled kitchen and living room are quite nice, but everywhere else the details--doors, cabinets, trim, carpets, countertops, fixtures--scream cheap, cheap, cheap.

So I am embarking on a program of gradual improvements, carried out at a pace that my budget and (I hope) body can handle. My mental tally of weekend-sized projects includes:

Installing a new vanity in the downstairs bathroom
Replacing countertop in the upstairs bathroom
Fixing the frost-heaved section of chainlink fence (come spring)
New cabinet doors in upstairs bathroom and on hallway linen closet
New closet doors in master bedroom
Repainting downstairs
Repainting and reflooring office

That last bullet point is in progress now. The repainting is done, and I've torn out the old carpet and pad--both original to the house, I'm sure, and as nasty and smelly as you'd expect after 25 years--in preparation for the flooring work. I also pried off the baseboards, carefully, since I haven't yet decided if I will reuse them. Meanwhile, 8 cartons of Pergo flooring are acclimating to the temperature and humidity of the room, to minimize the odds of significant shrinkage or expansion after the install.

So this is when it gets scary.

This is when the serious power tools come into play. The ones with shiny deadly blades spinning at frightening, life-threatening speeds.

*GULP*.

And OK, logically and rationally, I know I can wield power tools. I am intelligent. I can read, understand and follow directions. I own safety glasses. I know how to find excellent how-to videos online. If I can drive a car and operate a lawnmower, I am capable of using a circular saw without severing a limb.

It's just that I've never done it. And they are loud, and dangerous, and make things happen way too fast for this novice's liking.

*GULP*.

So I'm nervous. But I am damn well going to do this, because the thought of taking a handsaw to 150 square feet of laminate flooring is just...ridiculous. And unnecessary.

This weekend will be over before the flooring is done acclimating, so I get a week's reprieve. But if I'm not heard from by the end of next weekend, somebody come over and make sure I'm not in pieces on the garage floor, OK??

I am Woman. Watch me saw.

*GULP*.

My Husband, The Unicorn

Mon, 07 Feb 2011 23:03:02 GMT

Every so often, I think to myself, "My husband is a mythical beast. Something like a unicorn, except without the virginity fetish."

Last sighting of this rare and elusive creature (except on Skype) occurred on Christmas Day, 2010. Two weeks more and we get a long weekend together and ohhhh, I am so ready. He's doing fine and so am I--well, for most values of "fine"--but damn, I could use a hug, and a conversation that doesn't require technological intervention, and his scent, and his warm body in the same bed. Not to mention a reason to fix something more exciting for dinner than Lean Cuisine.

I've tried a few times to tap into the military-spouse support system during these long lonely stretches between visits, but it's problematic for me. I'm 20 years older than your average first-time military wife, more liberal and less religious than most, and I've chosen (if you can call my situation a choice) not to move with my husband. This makes me an outsider three times over. Nobody is unfriendly, but they don't exactly relate to me either. Anyway it's not easy to build a support network from afar, while not living on post or even near one. Most of the military-spouse forums suffer from the same syndrome as 90% of all online communities: a drama-to-support ratio that's just way to high to be worth the trouble.

So I just try to keep busy and attuned to my state of mind--which these days has strayed as close to genuine depression as I've ever ventured. Close enough to make me vigilant of straying even further. Some roads are hard to come back from.

Spring will help. So will good work. And most of all, the next unicorn sighting.

Tue, 04 Jan 2011 17:19:19 GMT

The Christmas episode of Dr. Who made no logical sense and broke every previously stated rule about changing the past or meeting one's self. But it had a flying sleigh and a shark to pull it with--not to mention the truth about the invention of the Sonic Screwdriver. So I have to love it anyway.

Caramel Bliss

Sun, 02 Jan 2011 04:11:29 GMT

Hell's Kitchen restaurant in Minneapolis (no connection to the reality show) serves, among other delectable dishes, the best caramel rolls I have ever tasted. I make embarrassing noises of gratification when I taste them, noises heretofore heard only by my husband in far less public circumstances. They are that good.

And now I have the recipe, in owner Mitch Omer's Damn Good Food cookbook, along with the recipes for our other HK favorites: Mahnomin Porridge, Lemon-Ricotta Hotcakes, even their famous homemade peanut butter. Mmmmm. Ohhhhhh. Yesssssss.

Ahem. Sorry. Hell's Kitchen is a sensual experience, what can I say?

Orders at last

Sat, 23 Oct 2010 15:57:10 GMT

Theo texted me yesterday: "Ft. Lewis!"

That was almost the sum total of his message, except "I love you." They're on an intensive 8-day field exercise, so that brief update was all he had time to give me before he went incommunicado again. But it was enough. Now, at last, we know.

I know literally nothing else--not what unit he's assigned to, when his report date is, how much leave he can take to come home, etc. Those are important details, of course, and I'm keen to hear them. But for the moment, just knowing he has a destination is such a relief. After all these weeks of waiting and wondering and seeing so many others get their posts, we were beginning to assume that he would be held over at Ft. Huachuca after graduation with no orders yet in hand--stuck in limbo while all his battle buddies went their separate ways.

And Lewis? Lewis is good news. Fort Lewis, Washington, was #1 on Theo's official preference list of CONUS (Continental U.S.) posts. Midway between Tacoma and Olympia, Lewis is less than an hour's drive to the heart of Seattle, one of our favorite cities. We've vacationed in the Pacific Northwest and loved it there. We honeymooned near Port Angeles WA, and our best family vacation was a trip to Seattle and the nearby San Juan Islands. Mountains. Ocean. Temperate climate. City life. It's one of the best possible places for his quality of off-duty life, and one of the best places for us to enjoy together when the girls and I visit.

Knowing that I can't move with him for next few years, some family and friends have expressed surprise that a post 1700 miles from home was his first choice. The thing to understand is that the largest concentrations of Army posts are in the east and south, with virtually no true posts (vs. arsenals, depots, National Guard training facilities, etc.) anywhere in the upper Midwest. So we knew that getting anything within roadtrip distance of home was highly unlikely. Instead, he focused his preference list on places that A) weren't in the middle of godforsaken nowhere and B) didn't turn into a sauna in summer (10 weeks in SC in summer was quite enough for my northern boy). Lewis topped that list, followed closely by Ft. Carson CO, near Colorado Springs.

Another point to understand is that an assignment to Ft. Lewis does not mean he's immune from going to Iraq or Afghanistan. It all depends on what unit he is assigned to and if/when they are slated to deploy. When they deploy, he deploys with them. But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Until we know his unit, we've got no way of judging how likely he is to deploy in the next year or two. If they're just back from a recent deployment, we can breathe a sigh of relief and know that no deployment is imminent. If it's been a while...well. Again, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

So now, at last, his real work in the Army is about to begin. Six months of training, six months away from home, six months of not knowing the answer to "Where next?"--it's all drawing to a close. There will be other questions. Plenty of them. But it's a relief to have this one thing settled and his next destination known at last.

(And yeah, I know the Army can pull last-minute switcheroos. I'm just choosing not to think about that!)

Three Cat Night

Fri, 22 Oct 2010 13:05:15 GMT

This is not the empty nest I'd figured on: Me, three cats, and a dog. It's way too quiet around here, and godawful furry besides. It's astonishing how much fur can collect on the floor of a house with four animals. Yesterday I swept up a pile the size of a small terrier (although it was the color of a black lab). But no matter how much I sweep and Swiffer, five minutes later another pet-hair tumbleweed drifts by.

My daughters check in regularly with updates about classes and activities and colds and homework and friendships and flirtations. They're doing well, and I am proud of them for how wisely they are navigating young adulthood far from home. It still feels like a long long stretch until I see them at Winter Break, though. Technology makes the distance feel smaller most of the time, but two months into the academic year, I do sometimes envy the parents whose children are easy roadtrip distance to collect them for a weekend home. That includes most of their high school peers, who are in Minnesota, Iowa, Wisconsin, and the Dakotas, close enough for Homecoming and Family Weekend visits or just hey-I-miss-you visits. Not so California and Pennsylvania, from which every visit home requires shuttles and plane tickets and extra days.

I'm not sorry they chose their distant colleges, and neither are they. It was the right fit and the right choice, and I'm proud of them for being brave enough to venture so far afield, to broaden their horizons and their experience of the country. But there's no denying I miss them often and deeply.

Meanwhile, Theo is on an 8-day FTX (field training exercise), the final hurdle before he graduates from AIT (Advanced Individual Training, i.e. his Army job training). So unless something unexpected happens, I won't hear from him until late next week. Already I miss the predictable buzz/chirp of my phone receiving his texts first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Those messages never said anything all that important except I love you...but what else IS important, really?

This radio silence would've been easier to take if he'd actually received his orders before going incommunicado, but the Army--in its finite wisdom--is still keeping us in the dark with his AIT graduation now less than two weeks away. Many of his platoon know their fate already, scattered all over the map: Colorado. Washington. Georgia. Korea. Kansas. South Carolina. Germany. Alaska. Hawaii. As word comes in of each new assignment for a battle buddy, I try that place on for size in my mind. "Kansas wouldn't be bad. Kansas is roadtrip distance. We could see each other so much more." "Oh, not Korea and not Alaska. Too far and too expensive to fly there." "At least everybody would want to visit him in Hawaii." "Theo would hate the summers in Georgia, but we'd know people there." "Think of all the places that are an easy train trip to visit from Germany." "Ohh, c'mon, Fort Lewis...you'd be great...please please please..."

And for all of them, the same afterthought: "At least it's not Afghanistan." But the reality is, any of those posts could lead him there, or to Iraq. He'll be assigned to a post and a unit, and when they deploy, he'll deploy. But until he knows his regiment/battalion assignment, there's no guessing how likely that is to happen in the next year. If he's lucky, he'll join a unit that's just recently returned, and therefore unlikely to deploy again in the near future. We hope for that, without really counting on it.

Until the orders come, all the options hang in the air, equally possible. But soon we'll know.

Sun, 03 Oct 2010 16:39:06 GMT

As much as I miss my husband, this article makes me profoundly grateful he is no longer job hunting in the civilian economy:
The Horror Show

I've been away from LiveJournal so long that my LJ-only friends probably think I fell off the planet. I'm sorry for the silence. Before Theo left for the Army I wanted to spend all my free time with him, and after--well, I've been adjusting. Suddenly becoming a new (and long-distance) Army wife at 40something is strange and lonely and challenging and sometimes absurd. Interesting, too, as it always is to explore a new world, and I've tried to throw myself into this one as best I can from afar. But it takes a lot of energy, mental and physical, to navigate a change of this magnitude.

So I've been quiet, and a bit withdrawn from things, including this blog and large portions of my normal social life. Depressed? Maybe. I have no long experience of depression. Being sad and overwhelmed on a regular basis feels like a perfectly natural response to this situation. Part of the adjustment to a major life transition--i.e., a difficult phase to endure, but not a clinical mental-health problem.

But fall is here, and change is in the air. Literally, in the autumn snap I feel in the breeze. And metaphorically, with more transitions in my family life. Last month I delivered my youngest child to her new college, and sent my eldest back to hers. And next month my husband will graduate from AIT (Advanced Individual Training, i.e. his Army job training) and move to his first real duty station. Where? We don't yet know. He'll get his orders any day, either to a continental U.S. duty station--from Ft. Lewis WA to Ft. Stewart GA, Ft. Irwin CA to Ft. Drum NY--or to a foreign post like Korea, Germany, or any of two dozen other far-flung places.

Oh, this upended life. This changeling life, is how it feels. I honestly want to make the most of it, embrace it for its positives and possibilities. Foremost among those: the change in my husband, who now stands so strong and proud and determined compared to the exhausted jobseeker of a year ago, defeated and angry by turns. He's come so far, committed so much, and has such important work ahead of him. I have never loved him more.

But I can't deny it's difficult and lonely and sometimes frightening, and there are days I'm not convinced I am up to the challenge. Today, thankfully, is not one of those days.