A whole weekend of mandatory fun.

This weekend is going to be exhausting. We have back-to-back farewell parties, convocations and various other stuff where we need to see and be seen.

But there should be a lot of beer and, provided Munchkin doesn't overindulge, maybe it won't be so bad.

How sweet it is.

What's "hot" in jail? The orange jumpsuits (orange is the new pink after all)? The landscaping work details? How the Simple Life producers are going to work this little jaunt into the script? Or perhaps just the very large and ornery woman that is going to finally claim Paris as her own chew toy?

Who reads books?

There was a recent blog about a "read-in" held in Atlanta. Who reads books? I do. Right here. Yep, me.

What have you recently read?

The greatest minds of the 16th century.

I named my post "the greatest minds of the 16th century" because some politician, and I don't remember who, quipped once that religious Islamic countries had some of the greatest minds of that age -- and not much had changed today. Their heads were still back there in medieval times.

But you know, people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. A CNN article today about the Republican debate included this sentence:

The field split on another issue, with Brownback, former Arkansas Gov. Mike Huckabee and Colorado Rep. Tom Tancredo raising their hands when moderator Chris Matthews asked who did not believe in evolution.

Since when did being a Republican mean that you were anti-science, religiously wacky and against individual rights?

When they finally move, they do move quick.

So my husband's commander tells me today that we'll probably be moving in mid-June. Mid-June? We don't have orders yet and we have to give 30 days notice on our rental house. Not to mention the fact that we have to set up all those pesky transportation appointments to get our shit moved from A to B in a timely fashion.

It should be a very interesting next few weeks.

CPT Dick owes me a helluva lot of back pay.

Salary.com understands. Why doesn't my husband?

Finally, well, sorta...

CPT Dick has been told that the paperwork is in for his next assignment. Of course, we have no assignment instructions or orders. Or, even a timeline of when he will need to show up and/or take command.

So in theory, I guess we know where we are going now. But it doesn't make me feel any better because we're still technically in limbo-land. A place, but nothing else. Argh.

And, oh yeah, a demand from CPT Dick that I be FRG leader again. *sob*

I would totally bottle it.

So despite the fact that my son has not eaten much in the past few days, been running out of both ends despite that fact, waking up at night and skipping naps, he is so gosh-darn chipper. His coloring is good and he's a little fireball of energy.

But me? After a couple nights of being woke up 3-4 times and what seems like hours of clean-up duty, I am totally knackered.

Ahhh, youth!

More posturing.

Bill passed. President vetoed. The only interesting thing about this is to wonder what will actually happen next.

So there's hurling and then there is runsing.

My son's projectile vomiting has evolved into serious diarrhea and even more projectile vomiting. I was up all night cleaning up his bed, four sets of weather appropriate jammies, the floor around his bed, the toilet, the floor around and leading up to the toilet and his poor, wittle bottom.

Never let it be said that this kid is an underachiever.

Pearl is mean.

Apparently, people are up in arms over this video. They don't think that a toddler cursing is funny. C'mon, people, lighten up! It's a joke. And also, not unlike Saturday nights at our house. Except my husband won't let Munchkin wear a dress.

You thought it was bad, and then...

So last week, CPT Dick hit something with my car. No matter that it had just come back from the shop and was all fixed and pretty. It was dark out, he ran the front end into something, and whee!, the whole front of the car is broken. Including the A/C.

But while I wait for the parts to come in, I can still drive it. And I think, it's a gorgeous, hot, sunny day -- Munchkin and I should go to the playground! So I get him in the car, open the windows and get going.

And then, just as I pull into the park. He pukes. Great, solid gobs of puke that have cascaded down his front, into every nook and cranny of the car seat. And somehow after I cry a little, I get his clothes off without getting too much vomit in his hair and I do a precursory wipe of the car seat. I put down an old blanket so he won't be too wet and uncomfortable on the ride home. Of course, it's a nice blanket that I would rather not be pukey, but it's all I have.

But just as I'm ready to head home, he sees the slide. As if he's seeing that big, silver behemoth for the first time and he will die if he does not manage to climb it's laddery peak. The fact that he's naked save for a diaper is no deterrent. But I can't do it. Too many Moms there, too much judgment. So I return him to his carseat and he's none too happy about it. I don't blame him.

So we drive home. In my black car. That stinks of puke. And when I open the window, Munchkin protests because he's pretty much naked in a wet seat. So the windows are closed, the car is black, the sun is hot and that puke is smelly. And just as I think it can't get worse, I notice something. That? That smell? Oh yeah.

It was fish stick day at school. With Tartar sauce.

Breaking news: Iraq is fucked up.

Like, duh.

At least this one they can't blame on the military.

Here's my question: How can President Bush and Vice President Cheney -- especially ol' Dickie Baby -- get these kind of reports and still insist on staying the course? Does a positive outcome involve overspending, flushing medical waste down toilets and tens of thousands of dead?

On respective marriage roles.

"CPT Dick, have you seen those claim papers?"

"No."

"I had them on Friday when we went down to JAG. I just can't seem to figure out what I did with them afterwards. I don't even remember taking them out of the car but I've checked and checked and they are not there. Any ideas?"

"I have no idea, babe."

"Then can you maybe help me retrace my steps? What did we do after we got back on Friday?"

"Ummm, honey, whenever I need to retrace my steps I rely on you to remember that kind of stuff."

"C'mon, you can do better than that. This is important!"

"Exactly, which is why if I were in your position, I'd totally be calling my wife right now."