Tired of fighting with the Army.

I have a lot to say about how hard it is to get the right services for your Exceptional Family Member over here in Europe but I find after spending hours on the phone trying to get my own situation remedied, I'm just spent.

So instead, an oldie but goodie, personally recommended by A Soldier's Wife. Enjoy the hotness (and if you want to see Adam Ant today, click here)!

A Friday Laugh.

I hate email forwards. With a passion. I usually just delete and move on because I have good friends that just can't resist sending these things on to every damn person in their address book.

But today, my friend T. sent me a whole list of "Mom" postcards. They were pretty funny.

This one was my favorite. I've forwarded it to CPT Dick. But seeing as he doesn't really read email forwards either, I may just have to wallpaper his desk with it.

Tag, I'm it.

A Soldier's Wife called me out on her blog to reveal 7 things about me. Sadly, I can no longer think of anything all that scintillating but here goes nothing.

1. I was once arrested for assault with a deadly weapon after a gang of girls jumped me and a couple of girlfriends in the restroom of a bar. The deadly weapons were beer bottles that lined the floor and sinks that had broken in the scuffle. All charges against me and my friends were later dropped after the cops got a look at the security camera.
2. I love to work-out to really cheesy pop/dance music. I own a Britney Spears CD just for this purpose.
3. I once wrote a letter to a movie critic who said that he had trouble watching "Bridget Jones' Diary" because he was distracted by how large Renee Zellweger's butt had gotten. I told him in the letter that I thought she never looked better (as well as cast some aspersions to his moral and heterosexual character). I received no response.
4. I wear boyshort underwear now. Pantylines be damned -- I am too old to be parading around in a thong.
5. Back in high school, I created a list of the top 100 things I want to do before I die. I only have 11 left. It's either time to off myself or write up a new, more creative list.
6. I'm a pretty bad military wife. I still can't really read a uniform even after taking all those damn AFTB classes. I guess I'm just not applying myself.
7. I am no longer allowed to visit PetSmart on weekends because I had a nasty habit of bringing strays home. At one point, we had no less than 7 pets in a very tiny house. Ironically, right now, we actually have no pets at all.

I don't know if that's revealing or not. You know, of more than me being a wacko.

Go ahead, indulge in that cookie.

Just another reminder that we, as women, are just way, way too hard on ourselves when it comes to our bodies.

If only they made more gadgets for cleaning...

Very interesting little piece in the NY Times: He's Happier, She's Less So.

One line that really resonated for me was, "A big reason that women reported being happier three decades ago — despite far more discrimination — is probably that they had narrower ambitions, Ms. Stevenson says. Many compared themselves only to other women, rather than to men as well. This doesn’t mean they were better off back then."

Maybe I just have to find a way to narrow my ambitions. Something to think about, anyway.

It's not often that a movie will make you cry more than once -- first, from laughing so damn hard. And after all that laughing, from being so damn touched.

I know I'm a bit biased since I'm the girl who thinks that "The 40-Year-Old Virgin" is one of the greatest love stories of all time but "Knocked Up" is right on up there.

Go see it.

On showmanship.

"It's just one of those things that everyone agrees on. Starbucks is better than Seattle's Best. Bringing Oliver on the Brady Bunch was a total mistake. David Lee Roth was better than Sammy Hagar..."

"Wait a minute, I disagree."

"You liked Oliver?"

"No. I preferred Sammy Hagar to David Lee Roth."

"How can you say that?"

"Well, I liked the music a lot better. 'Why Can't This Be Love' is a classic hit in my opinion, really the whole 5150 album. And I prefer Sammy's voice."

"You got to be kidding me. What about 'Janie's Crying' and 'Jump?' Those are rock anthems!"

"Just because they are rock anthems doesn't mean they are superior musically."

"And c'mon, David Lee Roth was such a better frontman. He had pizazz and showmanship. He was a serious lead vocalist."

"Sure, if being a serious lead vocalist involves wearing lime green tiger-striped spandex spants with a red cloth loincloth over it and black net shirt while acting like a total idiot."

More boy crush.

C. emailed me this photo of my boy crush, Joseph Gordon-Levitt with the question about what CPT Dick thinks about my fantasizing over way-too-young men.

He thinks it's funny. Actually, he thinks it's hilarious. One, he's not the jealous type. And two, he's definitely not jealous of some baby-faced actor that I'm never going to meet.

But if I'm honest with myself, I'm guessing CPT Dick is filing my boy crush away for future use. So that when he's off in Iraq and I notice some calendar or poster in his room out of the corner of the webcam (Elisha Cuthbert, perhaps? Or perhaps a younger Catherine Zeta-Jones?), he can ask me how my young friend, Joe, is doing.

An interesting take on the Larry Craig thing.

Yeah, yeah, I know -- you're thinking, "are people actually still talking about Larry Craig?" Yes, they are, and Frank Rich has an interesting op-ed up at the Times about why Senator Craig should be let off the hook.

The part that got me thinking:

The Minnesota sting operation may well be unconstitutional, as the A.C.L.U. says. Yet gay civil rights organizations, eager to see a family-values phony like Mr. Craig brought down, have been often muted or silent on this point. They stood idly by while Republicans gathered their lynching party, thereby short-circuiting public debate about the legitimacy of the brand of police entrapment that took place in Minnesota. Surely that airport could have hired a uniformed guard to police a public restroom rather than train a cop to enact a punitive "Cage aux Folles" pantomime.

So perhaps Craig didn't do anything wrong and that both the Democrats and the Republicans are showing their true hypocrite colors through this case. But the question that remains is should he resign? Should we look the other way while a man may be a closeted homosexual lobbies for limitations to gay rights? While a man whose marriage may be a beard only works to legislate family values?

I don't know.

More musical influences.

This one isn't all that old either -- came out in 1992 -- but it defined an era for me.

A case of the blahs.

I'm just feeling worn out. Not sick, really, or even all that excessively tired, but just like I've been wrung out to dry.

Part of the problem is that I'm in limbo. My life this week is all about waiting for people to get back to me. Like my landlord, who was supposed to get back to me weeks ago about a broken floorboard. And MWR, who need to get back to me about the rental of those stupid inflatable sumo suits. The bike shop is supposed to ring once they get Munchkin's ride-along-seat installed properly. And then, I keep checking my email hoping to hear from not one but two editors, who have comments on pieces for me but just haven't deigned to send them my way. And until they do, the pieces have not been accepted. And if they are not accepted, I am not paid.

And of course, there's always the mopiness associated with the change in the weather. I do love autumn but I just wish the weather could be more consistent throughout. A gradual move to coldness would be preferable.

Anyway, I'll stop whining now.

Following directions.

Well, in the past few months we've learned quite a bit about why my son does not talk.

We learned that Munchkin can hear but he does not like to listen.

He can say words but often does not opt to.

Despite the fact that every Mom/Oprah-watching wannabe behavioral psychologist has suggested that my son must be autistic, he is not.

He's way above board when it comes to physical and cognitive (outside speech) development.

And we've agreed to the developmental Nazis plan to help this matter and somehow, someway, it's helping.

My son can sign. He's been consistently signing please, thank you, help and Mommy since his speech therapy session earlier this week. It is absolutely amazing to be able to have even these simple exchanges with him.

Whaddya know. Things may be starting to change around here.

A blast from the past.

This glorious song of my youth came on the German radio the other day. Munchkin looked at me like I was nuts as I rolled down the windows and rocked out in the car. And when I say rocked out, I wholeheartedly mean it. I rocked out!

The whole event inspired me to find the CD somewhere in the storage room, import it to iTunes and subject my family to it over and over again for the entire weekend. God help them if I ever hear the Misfits on SWR3.

Let them eat cake.

I had cake for dinner. It was AWESOME. I highly recommend it for anyone who needs a pick-me-up.

(And for those sticklers for balanced meals, just remember that chocolate-cherry upside-down cake has eggs [protein!], flour [cereal and grains!], cherries and pineapple [fruit and vegetables!] and some milk [dairy!]. Totally healthy!)