Ving Rhames for the Oscar!

So I'm watching "I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry," which, by most accounts, is not the best movie in the world. But oh my goodness, Ving Rhames nails it. I laughed so hard as he grooved in the shower to "I'm Every Woman," that I lost it.

If you are feeling down, I highly recommend it.

As for me, whenever I need a pick-me-up, you'll hear me start to sing, "Whoa, whoa, whooooo-aa." That's right. It's all in me.

Dear Busybody Spouses:

Why does everyone automatically seem to think I'm going to get knocked up when my husband takes R&R? What makes you think I want a second child? That I could even have a second child? Why am I viewed as so strange when I say CPT Dick and I have no plans to that effect?

Sheesh.

Month 3 of a 15 month deployment. Guess we all need ways to make things a little more interesting. Mine, of course, may be to beat the living shit out of the next person who asks me if I'm going to get busy during R&R.

To date, there has not been one sighting of Swedish fish.

Munchkin and I spent a few days traveling about Sweden. Not for any particular reason. Mainly to find another way to make the time pass.

It was a lovely trip. I highly recommend it. Especially the Junibacken -- a storybook tribute to Astrid Lindgren, complete with Pippi's own Villa Villakulla. It was so much fun.

But seriously. Not one Swedish fish. Unless you count all of the char, which being a Swedish fish purist myself, really do not.

To the creators of the Elmo deployment video...

Would it be too much to say both "thank you" and "fuck you" at the same time?

(I don't mean to seem so ungrateful but, goddamn, by the thirtieth viewing of the day, I start to hate that little red monster with a fierce passion).

Make mine chunky.

So Munchkin has picked up one of those summer illnesses. And honestly, hanging out at home (out of this unfamiliar sunshine and heat!) wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't a pukey sickness. To date, Munchkin has hurled on:

His bed.
My bed.
The guest bed.
The couch.
CPT Dick's car (lucky for me, I took that one to ferry Munchkin to the pediatrician, no?)
The pediatrician's examining table
My laundry chair
underneath his bedside table
and, of course, me, several times.

(But never once the toilet, no matter how hard I tried to get him there).

They were right about parenthood being an adventure. I just didn't expect the day-to-day of it to require so much Swiffering.

Reasons I should not go shopping while having my period.

1. Forgot the carrots for the Japanese curry rice.
2. Was somewhat grossed out by all of the chicken in the poultry case.
   
3. Took advantage of the $1/bag sale on Doritos.
4. Found myself with a case of Snack Packs left over from the case lot sale.

(Make that half a case now).

He was high, right?

'Cause I'm just not sure I can come up with any other explanation.

(And you know, I'm really kind of wondering what Oasis thought of the rendition).

Mistakes I will never make again.

Mistake #1: Not having a shitload of wine in the house before making the call-out to inform our spouses that we lost two of our community's soldiers.

Mistake #2: Deciding to watch a movie since I couldn't sleep afterwards. And throwing in my newest Netflix. Which just happened to be "Grace is Gone."

On waiting by the phone.

In the past few weeks, I've missed quite a few phone calls from my husband. It's the combination of a few things -- 1, much as I love my husband, I ain't sitting around all day and waiting by the phone for someone whose job only allows the most random of occasions to call and 2, the stupid git will never call my cel phone.

Before CPT Dick left, I made him a laminated phone number card. Yes, you read that right. A *laminated* card that had every phone number on it that he could ever possibly wish to call. Our home number. My European cel number. My stateside cel number. His parents number. His sibings' respective numbers. My sibling's number. Everyone's, really. Hell, as a funny, I even put Graceland's phone number on there. After all, you never know when you may need to commune with Elvis.

Even with that card tucked neatly in his wallet, he only ever calls the home number. I could not begin to explain why. But I have a feeling it has something to do that part of his brain which makes him throw all dirty clothes on the floor an average of 8.6 inches away from the hamper.

But I just learned I can forward my home phone to my cel phone. I know some of you, more experienced in the whole deployment-inspired art form of waiting by the phone without ever literally waiting by the phone, may be like, "duh!" But it just hadn't occurred to me.

So yesterday, I forwarded all calls to my cel phone. But then we went to the pool with friends. And you know, I now know from experience that it is impossible to chase a toddler around a large body of water and keep an ear out for the phone. Yes, I missed another call.

Oh well. I guess there will be plenty of time to talk when he gets back next year. Or maybe, if I miss enough calls, he'll pull that stupid card out of his wallet for a change.

Inheritance? What inheritance?

I was very tickled to see that "Your Money: 8 Reasons You Should Not Expect an Inheritance" at the top of the NY Times' most emailed list.

And then I pretty much peed my pants when I saw that the story was waiting in my inbox this morning, courtesy of Mom. Think she was trying to tell me something?

Hrm, I wonder what target demographic is emailing this story around...