Proud to be an American

I wasn't going to post today; after all, what could I say that hasn't already been said before. How could I possibly expound on what freedom is or why we have it. But then I read this, and couldn't stop myself. This happens to be my across-the-street neighbor, and no, I haven't checked it against any of the "scam" web sites. It really doesn't matter if it's true or just a good story, now does it?

From someone who has been there, done that, bought the t-shirt, and who is trying vainly to figure out how to give back, it's just good to read how some people still show how proud they are to be American. When we go anywhere with The Dude dressed in his uniform, he is treated with utmost respect. We have been shown appreciation, had our meals bought at restaurants, and saluted, just to name a few. I have been to the airport with The Dude and had people clap and salute him. Unfortunately, it was when he was going to and coming from Iraq. I have also been to the airport when it was my turn to do the clapping and saluting. One of the things I want to do when I retire is volunteer with the USO at the airport. Hopefully by then, there won't be any servicemen and women going to war. Hopefully by then, all the servicemen and women will be shipping off to train, or to keep peace somewhere. Hopefully by the time I retire, the wars will be over and parents won't have to send their sons and daughters in harms way so that we can stay free.

So however you celebrate Independence Day, remember to say an extra special prayer for those who are in harms way and for those they left behind to carry on while they're gone. But for the grace of God go I. Happy Independence Day.

Valentine's Day

Every year, DH asks me what I want for Valentine's Day. Usually, he's not surprised to find out I want to go out to a fancy resturant, no kids, just me, him, and 4,634 of our best friends. Everywhere in Atlanta is crowded on Valentine's Day. Everywhere in Atlanta is usually crowded when it's NOT Valentine's Day. So I started thinking about it early this year; afterall, he hasn't given me a present since Christmas, so time was of the essence.

Imagine my surprise when I started tracking the Nascar season back in early January. I live for Nascar; I love Nascar. I can get so much laundry folded (or sleep so soundly) when there is a Nascar race in the background. Imagine my excitement when I found out the Gatorade Duals would be held on Valentine's Day.

My perfect, romantic evening was planned: Record the Duals because they start at 2:00 - hellooooo, most people are working at 2:00 in the afternoon. I love my DVR. Order pizza. Get in our comfy jammies...sit in front of the TV watching Nascar.

And it was a night to be remembered. Nothing says romance like delivery pizza and Nascar.

Dear Santa

I've held on to this article since the year my daughter was born. I've read it each year since, and thought about the changes of the past year. This year, it's not different...'cept for the fact that I am now sharing it with you lucky internets. I cut it out of the December '94 Family Circle (page 156 to be exact, thankyouverymuch). Enjoy (but be forewarned about reading it aloud with wee ones around...)

Dear Santa,

My 5-year-old boy scribbled out his Christmas list. It's there by the fireplace. The Coke and chocolates are from him, in case you're hungry. You know 5-year-olds these days. The Cheez-Its are from me.
Santa, if you don't mind, I thought I'd go ahead and leave my list, too. It's long, but do what you can. It's all I want for Christmas.

• Santa, let my little boy grow up still believing that he has the funniest dad in the neighborhood.
• Give him many close friends, both boys and girls. May they fill his days with adventure, security and dirty fingernails.
• Leave his mom and me some magic dust that will keep him just the size he is now. We'd just as soon he stayed 5 years old and 3 feet 4 inches.
• If he must grow up, Santa, make sure he still wants to sit on my lap at bedtime and read The Frog and The Toad Together.
• If you can help it, Santa, never let him be sent into war. His mother and I love our country, but we love our 5-year-old boy more.
• While you're at it, give our world leaders a copy of The Killer Angels, Michael Shaara's retelling of the Battle of Gettysburg. May it remind them that too many moms and dads have wept at Christmas for soldiers who died in battles that needn't have been fought.
• Let our house always be filled wth slamming doors and toilet seats, which are the official sounds of little boys.
• Break it to him gently, Santa, that his dad won't always be able to carry him to bed at night or brush his teeth for him. Teach him courage in the face of such change.
• Let him understand that no matter how nice you are to everyone, the world will sometimes break your heart. As you know, Santa, a child's feelings are as fragile as moth wings.
• Let him become a piano player, a soccer star or a clergyman. Or all three. Anything but a politician.
• Give him a hunger for books, music, and georgraphy. May he be the first kid in kindergarten to be able to find Madagascar on a map.
• The kid's a born artist, Santa, so send more crayons. May our kitchen window and refrigerator doors be ever plastered with his sketches of surreal rainbows and horses with big cars.
• Steer him oh so carefully to that little girl who is destined to be his bride. Let his mother and me still be around when he walks her down the aisle. If there is a just God, let her daddy be obscenely rich.
• Grant him a heart that will cherish what his parents did right, and forgive us for the mistakes we surely will have made over a lifetime of raising him.
• Let him not hold it against us that he was born with my chin and his mother's ears. Time will teach him that these are God's ways of girding him for life's adversities.
• Hold him steady on the day that he learns the truth about you and the Easter Bunny. May he take the news better than I did.
• While you're flying around the heavens, Santa, make sure God has heard or prayer for this child: Lead our little boy not into temptation; deliver him from evil.

Be careful out there, Santa. And close the flue on your way up.

David V. Chartrand

It's Beginning to Sound A Lot Like Christmas

I had a meeting tonight after school and was childless; Oldest Child had a dance that DH was chaperoning and Youngest Child chose to stay home for a quiet evening. So after the meeting, I ran to Wal Mart because both of my printers were out of ink...just my luck. Some important papers are being faxed to me and neither printer has ink...wonder where it went? Oldest Child, do you have an answer for that one??

But I digress.Now being in metro Atlanta, you can drive 15 minutes and be at almost any store you want. Only I didn't want to pass my house on the way to WM, so I decided to go to the WM in the neighboring town, thus making a big circle, thus utilizing my time more efficiently. I go, get the ink for BOTH printers, and stand waiting patiently in the checkout lane.

Suddenly, there is a tap on my shoulder. Turning around, this nice young lady said, "Do you know you have something white on the back of your pants?" No, I replied and thanked her for kindly telling me. Thankfully I was headed home, and only my fellow Wal Mart shoppers were going to see the white whatever smeared all over my black pants. Guess Nice Young Lady didn't think she'd made her point because then she uttered, "Yeah, the whole $ % & of your pants is covered in sometin white; looks like it might be sheetrock dust."

I love the sounds of the holidays!