My crossover blog event! It was a first and a last! I subtly posted one of my Facebook posts to my personal Facebook page. Can you tell which day:
Not everyone caught on because I didn’t announce, “hey guys! I’m a secret blogger!” But for those who did catch on, some of them did not approve.
And I quote, “What is this Her et al thing? Is this like something you wrote? Because I hate it!”
This is week many of us celebrate religious holidays. So I’m going to completely ignore that and focus my attention on “he, who shall remain nameless:”
Sissy et al. loves this one as Harry Potter is her love interest of the day. But I digress, happy days Her et al.iens!
….and when that fails, I plan on using a taser gun. Having been an ICU nurse in an inner city university hospital, I am familiar with the “accidents” that happen with handguns in homes with small children. In fact, as a child I remember a friend of mind was know for pulling her dads handgun on other kids when her parents were not home. After one particular episode of arguments regarding a lemonade stand, I was the lucky recipient of nearly be ganked by a 12 year old! I grew up poor people, this is not news. Many of us were latchkey kids and spent summers running the neighborhood.
But I digress (I feel so studious when I use that word). Again, I digress. This is quite the world we’ve created for ourselves here, huh? Unless something massive happens (and it wont because of political gridlock), this is our new normal. That sucks, yes. Everyone already knows that, yes. So lets move on from there. We can sit there and ruminate over how times have changed and life was once so good. Or we could do something about it. Everyone biding for that POTUS chair claims that they will be the one person who is going to changed DC and the government and blah blah blah. But we’ve heard that before and here we sit, same boat we were in two terms ago.
Theres too many spoons in the pot to productively stirs this shitpot were living in. Always love first. 100% of the time. Obviously, don’t wait too long trying love before you protect yourself and loved ones. You have to have an idea of what you’re going to do in the worse case scenario. You cant wait until the time is upon you to decide what the best option of protection is for you. That is not the world we are living in anymore. When I was in the city, I used mace. Fully aware that if I was ever approached, I would likely just throw my mace at them and run. Well now that there is offspring in my world. I need something better. A stun gun.
Being a big fan of algorithms (seriously, cant function without my loved algorithm), Ive decided to write one for myself now. On when to use the gun, what to do with it, and what to do once I’ve used it (besides grabbing my babies and running while crying hysterically). I’m not going to post it here. One, because I just cant figure that out. If you’re one of my regular readers, I’ve already subjected you to enough subpar technology and I apologize profusely. Two, I think everyones plan should be different. I fear if I were to post mine here, someone may adapt it to their lives and it wouldn’t be a fit and they wouldn’t realize that until it was too late. Just know that I have mine and you should have yours too.
Now, on to suggestions for stun guns! Anyone out there have any advice for me?
My dad recently passed away unexpectedly. While going through his belongings, we found a pipe. It was made of wood and had been sanded and polished…it was SO him! So I smiled. At the thought of my dad high, with the giggles or devouring a pizza because of munchies.
Let me be clear, we do not live in a state where marijuana is legal. Nor do I or my husband smoke weed. However, being in healthcare I cannot deny the medical benefits of weed. One of those being treatment for PTSD. While it is sometimes consider an antidotal symptom relief, I’m ok with that. Because my dad suffered from PTSD related to the Vietnam war and he felt relief from weed….at least I assume that’s why he was a pothead.
He suffered. From the day he stepped on American soil again, my dad suffered daily. He remembered being in a vehicle that backed over a little boy who was shooting at them. He remembered the man next to him loosing both legs (and likely his life) to an attack. He remembered a pallet of live ammunition being dropped on his hand and everyone thinking it would explode before they could get it off of him…with a crane. He remembered being flown to a hospital after that and staying there for a week and then being sent…..right back to war. For 3 days shy of one year, my dad spent every day and night of his life, under fire. He once told my brother, “they were shooting at us as we were landing and getting off the plane.”
And it never stopped.
My dad didn’t leave Vietnam the same. None of them did. It should be assumed they all have PTSD. People coming home from war should just be seperated into two groups: those with PTSD and those who are “in denial about having PTSD and will be diagnosed at a later date.”
So light one up for me, up there daddy! I’m so glad your pain is gone!
Those girls of mine. Gaw, cuddling on the couch in swimsuits, reading books to themselves.
Could they be more precious? I’m having one of those days where I realize how great I have it. Have those days. Make yourself do it.
Appreciate every time they use their inside voice when they would normally scream.
Appreciate that they washed their hands after peeing without being reminded.
Appreciate your job or your spouses job that provides for your family.
Too many days have gone by me where I didn’t take the chance to acknowledge how some people dream about having a life like mine. Children like I have. And a husband who provides. I’m lucky and I appreciate it.
Oh this? It’s no big deal…just a pic of me sitting on President Obama’s lap at my wedding. Of course he’s checking out my rack (see yesterday’s post). And he clearly approves.