Pajama Pants

Pajama pants. You all should know what I am talking about. The pants you sleep in, usually made of flannel or cotton material, that showcase a cartoon character dancing across one's ass with every step. So, why do people wear these sleep pants to the store or school,hell, in public?!? I understand if you are in the comfort of your home, even the comfort of your front porch, but please refrain from wearing them in public. We all know that they are pajama pants, we all know that they are comfortable, but we also question whether you showered that day or not because you are still in your sleep wear. I understand if you are making a run for your neighbor's house, by neighbor I mean no more than like five houses down, and you don't really plan on being spotted. That's ok, I've been there, done that. But really, how lazy are you that you can't even change your pants to go to the store? It's not a sexy look to wear your pajamas in public, hell it may not even be a sexy look to wear them at home either, but that's not the point. Point is pajamas pants are for sleeping in or lounging around the house in, not for the whole world to see. So please, please stop the madness.

False Sense of Security

April 24: " 'There was one soldier shooting his weapon, and he shot and wounded another individual, and then shot and killed another person. In the housing area,' said Fort Bliss Maj. Gen. Howard Bromberg.
The one person killed at the scene was a Chapin High School student [just walking to school]. The person injured was identified as a Fort Bliss soldier and was taken to William Beaumont Hospital for treatment."

This shooting occurred in an adjacent neighborhood to ours. Our family takes walks through that neighborhood. It's funny to think that many military families believe that they are immune to these type of incidents. Many feel, I included at times, that we are safe because we live on a military post or military off-post housing. We have developed a false sense of security, a mind frame that no bad can happen to us. But, bad things do happen. They happened about five blocks down when we were at Polk, and they happened down the street when we were at Lewis. They happened at the Bliss PX (post exchange) and now in the adjacent neighborhood. We are not immune. We never will be.
Another thing. In some ways we should put up our defenses, be on guard. Who is going to protect us from us? Who is going to prevent the soldiers coming back from Iraq or Afghanistan that suffer from PTSD from cracking, pushed to their limits? There is a desperate need for some type of help, something to get these soldiers as close as they can to who they once were, provide support for them every step of the way, let them know that it's okay to feel the they do.
I know that PTSD is not the cause for all the incidents that happen on military installations. I know that military housing is not too different from non military housing, that anyone can snap, go crazy. Sometimes, though, I can't help but live in my bubble.

oh so tired

i'm tired. maybe i will write more tomorrow. and ryan, i'm jealous.

Ahh, weddings...

So, yesterday I had my first real major job as far as photography goes-- a small, backyard wedding. The sun was not working with me, almost too bright, and unfortunately, I have some glare on some of my shots (I really need to work on that). I was able to take well over 300 shots, so I have a lot of weeding out to do. I thought I would post these two images. They are not great, one a bit blurry, but I wanted to show the chaos, almost a behind the scenes look, of the bride getting ready.

Haircut

"Want to hear a real freak tragedy. My cousin’s friend Barry…” he paused, “I think his name was Barry.”

He threw his arms up over his head, giving up in the detail of the name.
“Shit, I’ll just call him Barry.” Frank nodded.

“Well Barry’s wife went to go get her hair done at some high fashion salon. The stylist asked her to tilt her head down, and then BAM, Barry’s wife dies right there. Apparently her carotid artery just snapped. Hell, can you imagine? One minute you’re cutting some lady’s hair, maybe talking about the weather, and then the next minute she’s slumped over dead in your chair.”

“Do you think the stylist got paid?” Frank asked.

“Hell, I don’t know.”

“She sure as hell didn’t get a tip,” Frank said.

Twenty-eight

Twenty-eight. That's how old I am today. It is not that big of a deal. It's just a number. It's just a day. I am not celebrating the usual way. No cake, no special dinner. I did get a new camera lens (thanks mom and dad) and a tripod (thanks hubby and kids), and I can't wait to play around with both of them. Other than that, today really is like an ordinary day. I woke up at 0633, took the kids to school, and am now on the computer. Exciting, no?
That's my life. Right now it works, but damnit, I hope it changes up a bit soon.

Alas, no more dishes!

I hate washing dishes. I am sure some of you are aware of that. Perhaps my dislike goes as far back as when I was a child, just tall enough to reach the sink, that I was put on dishwasher duty by my parents. I always joke how my parents planned to have three children because they had already prepared our dish washing fate. Each night we would take turns. One would clear the dinner table, the other wash/rinse the dishes, and of course one puts the dishes in the dishwasher. Well, if you were stuck doing the washing and rinsing that included all pots and pans. Holiday events were always dreaded due to the large increase in dish use. So, now as an adult and parent, I am almost always stuck doing the dishes. Did I mention I hate doing dishes? I hate when I am scrubbing along on baked-on-grease infested dish, and somehow I manage to scrub too hard causing the nasty dish water to splash back into my face.
Well, my friends, I now have some good news. My son likes to do the dishes. He is almost too eager at times. So, the time has come where I get to pass the super scrubbing sponge to him, my oldest, my one and only son. And let me tell you, I couldn't be more happier to do this. Yes, there may be a bigger water puddle left on the counter, the sink may be lined with food, and the soap that is supposed to last six months only lasts a week, but all that is okay. Why? Because I hate doing the dishes.

crickets, ants, and roaches, oh my!

when we first arrived at our new house, it was infested with crickets. yes, those little boogers where everywhere. they clearly thought they owned the joint. since it is said to be bad luck to kill the little boogers (notice my politeness here, because what is a more appropriate name for the crickets was little *BLEEP,* and i feel like keeping this more PG rated), my husband and i would take turns catching them, and disposing of them outside. i called housing, and they sent out some people to take care of the issue at hand. so, in all technicality, i did not kill them. anyway, so, that problem was solved for a while. five months later, we catch one or two ever so often, in addition to ants in both bathrooms, and a roach that scattered its way across the kitchen counter. so tomorrow, i am calling in the pros. oh yea, those little boogers are all gonna die. yes, they do deserve to live, but not in my house. so PETA can, well they can FUCK IT! (so much for PG, i know).
it's not like i'm killing a dog. i really didn't. i just found the little dog running down our street, called the number on the collar, the previous owners were contacted because the current owners where not reachable, the previous owners agreed to give the dog back to the current owners, but instead, the previous owners gave the dog to the pound, and the little dog was killed off before the current owners could claim him. how do i know all this happened? well, when we got back from christmas break our house had been tagged (graffiti), and the neighbor called the MPs. that neighbor got to talking with my husband and come to find out that it was my neighbor's dog. so, i've decided not to help out little dogs, cats, alligators, hell any stray animal running about.
where was i? oh yes, crickets, ants, and roaches...you're days are numbered.

World Tour

At my son's school they have a World Tour event. This consists of each classroom choosing a country to represent, creating projects to represent that country, and a stage production. This school is small. Preschool (age 3) to Kindergarten in one classroom, 1st 2nd and 3rd graders in the next, and 4th and 5th are together. This is called the Lower School. I went a little off track I know. Anyway, the World Tour was wonderful. We were able to sample foods from Nigeria, Italy, Sweden, Russia, Germany, Ireland, and Mexico. The Upper School contributed as well as other faculty members of the Lower School, ie Spanish teacher. We were even given passports so we could enter each country and had them stamped.
Well tonight, we all gathered at the Upper School to enjoy a stage production. My son, whose class represented Germany, did the story of the three little pigs by the Brothers Grimm. I am so proud of my little guy. Though he did fumble his words a bit, he stayed on the stage the entire time, no tears, no hiding, no nothing! He did great! At his age (6), I remember crying on stage so bad that I had to join my parents in the audience. He has really come out of his shell. At the end of the show, everyone did the chicken dance, and I mean everyone. Old ladies in the audience shimming down and flapping their arms. It was funny, yet so cool to see.
So, that is how I spent my night. It's funny, I used think that going out and partying all night was the best way to spend a Friday night, but I was wrong. I had one of the best nights of my life tonight. I am so proud of my little guy!

Funk

Well, I didn't post a blog yesterday, so I guess I lost the challenge of posting every day. I have no good excuse, just pure laziness. That seems to be my excuse for everything lately. I have been a bit unmotivated, lazy, blah, if you will. Frankly, it sucks. I used to go to the gym EVERYDAY in Washington, even given the nickname AB Freak. Five months later, after our move to Texas, I have been in the gym maybe 5 times. I occasionally go for a run, only lasting about two miles, and that involves walking as well. I cannot seem to get out of my workout funk. Hell, my life funk. I have two hours to myself a day, the gym is less than 2minutes away, and yet, I can't get off my butt and workout. I don't even leave the computer for the 2 hours unless I have to. I have been in a writer's block too, and I haven't really used my camera for about two weeks (trust me that is quite unusual). I have noticed changes in my body and emotional status. I need to workout. It puts me in a better mood. Obviously, it makes me look better too. The year + that I trained developing a kick ass body has now felt like a big waste in some ways. I no longer have all the results I once had, which I should accept considering I haven't kept up my training regime.
My life is full excuses I tell myself. I have excuses coming out of my ears! I have become one of those people who bitch and complain, but do nothing to fix the problem. I'm not proud of that, but this funk that I am in has just done that to me. So, here's to hoping the funk will pass.

Windy Night

It is extremely windy right now, so I am keeping this short because if the the power goes out, the computer goes off, you get the idea. Tomorrow will be a better blog post. Much more entertaining. Good night.