random

I just realized I have a lot of couple friends with couple-y names: Jaime and James, Chris and Christine, Nick and Nicole, Jess and Wes. It's slightly amusing.

quickie

My kids are seriously spoiled. Aaron got more toys today than he can possibly know what to do with, and KCB got a ton of cute clothes and she ISN'T EVEN BORN YET.

Oh well, it's all good. Mama got S1 of Chuck, an iPhone docking station, and a post-natal spa package. So I guess I'm pretty spoiled, too. :)

Come On Now!

I apologize that I haven't had a whole lot to blog about the past few months. Deployments are so day-to-day, that just getting through the monotony of the day itself without writing about the leaky toilets, recurrence of kidney stones, etc., is key.

But, I digress. The reason for my return to blogosphere is this:

I. HATE. PHILIP. RIVERS.

And, honestly, that's not entirely accurate. I don't hate the man; he does a lot of community service in and around San Diego, so I'm sure he's not a horrible man. I just can't get over the amount of fawning, praising, almost worship-like quality of not only the Chargers fans, but the announcers, sportswriters, and sportscasters as well.

Now, I am by no means an authority on the man's skills, nor do I have a vault of stats in my head to back up any of the claims I'm about to make, so please feel free to throw some numbers at me, tell me I'm wrong, way off base, or just plain mean.

It seems to me, that at 6-6, Philip Rivers just isn't that good of a QB.

Good quarterbacks find ways to win games. Now, I suppose I can't lay the blame solely at the feet of the quarterback; there is only so much one person can do (right, Steve Johnson?). But Rivers consistently overthrows his targets, and is a stinking hot mess when it comes to making big plays in the red zone. He can't rely on kicker Nate Kaeding; one Sunday, Nate's the only one responsible for putting any points on the board whatsoever, and the next, can't sink a field goal to save his life.

Now, I know that the Chargers have had an unfortunate amount of injuries this year. Still. Tom Brady's got a bunch of rookies and hobbits on his OLine and seems to be doing ok. For the life of me, I cannot understand the Philip Rivers love fest that takes place every year in December. If Philip Rivers is such a good QB, how come he can't win a game that matters in September, October, and November? Even if the Chargers win every game left in the regular season, they would still be 10-6. Nothing to sneeze at, obviously, but not stellar in my opinion.

All week, all I've heard is how Rivers is so good, Rivers is the best, Rivers is 18-0 in December. The REAL Philip Rivers is about to show up.

Well, the Chargers were stunned at home today by the Raiders, 28-13, and the REAL Philip Rivers is nowhere to be found.

And, as I and a nation of Patriots fans can tell you, 18-1 ain't all it's cracked up to be.

Hiatus

Stealing my husband's lingo for an extended absence from blogging, I'll just say that I've been on "a hiatus."

Said hiatus pretty much began the day Ian left. Early in the wee hours of that morning, the call of nature woke me from my slumber and I peed on a stick. The results woke me up faster than a triple shot of espresso injected directly into my veins. "I'M PREGNANT???" WAIT, I MEAN "I'M PREGNANT!!!!!!"

So, yes, I'm pregnant. Needless to say, it was quite the emotional roller coaster that day. We were ecstatic to find out the good news, and were able to celebrate for about 15 hours together before Ian got on a bus destined for Japan. (Well, the bus itself wasn't going to Japan...he had to get on an airplane...oh, never mind.)

Prior to and after Ian's departure, I had East Coast friends visiting. The last one left San Diego just a few days before Aaron and I packed up and headed to the East Coast ourselves. Over the course of about six weeks, I went to two weddings (Congrats Benny and Nick and Blake and Mary!!), spent a week at the family cabin in Maine, saw lots of familiar faces, spent time with family, and even squeezed (squoze) in a week in Newfoundland.

We had a FABULOUS time seeing everyone, but boy, oh, boy, was I glad to get home. There really is no place like home.

But, now that we're here, we've finally had time to let it sink in that Daddy's really and truly on his adventure. I'll be especially blue this Friday, on the 30th anniversary of my love's birth, and I really wish I could spend it with him. Not drinking. Because I can't. Which sucks. But I would TOTALLY DD for him.

At least football season starts soon. (11 DAYS!!) But it won't be the same without a Sam Winter in hand. Well, I suppose it COULD be in hand, just not open. Which is just not as fun.

48 hours

Ian deployed on his second tour of Iraq in February 2009, a mere 9 months after his return from his first tour in May 2008. As a result, he was "guaranteed" (as much as anything in the Marine Corps is ever guaranteed) at least one year stateside before he had to deploy again. 367 days later, he will deploy to the Asian Pacific, and it seems I can't accuse the USMC of not keeping their promise.

Shake, shake, shake

It appears that I will have to start dressing a bit more nicely to lounge around my house, since it seems my presence may be required outside at a moment's notice:

Maybe the Mayans were right...

Whippersnapper

A month or two ago, I bought a membership to the local YMCA. I figured it would be a good time; they have youth programs in addition to a workout facility, a pool, and a sweet playground for the kiddo. In fact, Aaron just finished up a 6-week program called the Y's World of Sports. He spent two weeks each playing soccer, t-ball, and basketball.

More importantly, y'all, they have this glorious thing called Child Watch.

With the family membership I purchased, we get two free hours of child care EVERY SINGLE DAY. They'll watch your kid while you work out or shoot some hoops or whatever it is that you do. They do stipulate, however, that you must remain on the YMCA premises. They're not that dumb. You just sign the kid in, hand him some goldfish and a capri sun, write down your phone number and where you'll be (I haven't yet gotten up the nerve to simply put "napping in my car" in the location field...maybe next week), and off you go.

So off I went.

Today, I tried out the 8:30 am Water Aerobics class. One of the many brochures I was handed along with my membership ID card was the Aquatic Center schedule. It was in this multi-colored brochure that I first saw that this class was an offering. "Designed for ages 12+," it advertised. So I pulled out my new summer bathing suit (yes, it's hotttt.) and headed off.

At 27 years old, I was easily the youngest person in the class. By a lot. Like at least 30 years. The lifeguards must have thought it was "bring-your-great-granddaughter-to-water-aerobics" day.

Apparently, the instructor who usually teaches the class was absent. In her place, Diane the Italian New Yorker, who is everything you're thinking (i.e., accent, talking with hands, Giants fan) gave the lesson. Fully clothed. On the edge of the pool. In long sleeves. She refused to actually get in to the pool.

So imagine the scene if you will. Lifeguards overlooking a heated pool on a balmy Southern California day. Geriatrics and an overweight twentysomething performing such maneuvers as the loud-mouthed, hand-talking instructor called "The Cheerleader," "The Rocking Horse," and "The Penguin."

Maybe I should look in to the 6:15 pm class. I'm pretty sure everyone in today's class would be asleep by then anyway.

In Memoriam...

1st Lt. Jared Landaker, USMC

February 7, 2007

Capt. Kyle Van de Gisesn, USMC

October 26, 2009

This Memorial Day, please take a moment to remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice so that the country they fought to protect would remain safe. R.I.P. and Semper Fi, Jared and Kyle.

You MIght Be a Military Wife...

There are, no doubt, a million of these lists floating around the internet, but below is my own personal list of experiences that have defined me as a military wife. Without further ado, you might be a military wife if...:

• You can't make it through a rendition of the national anthem. Sing it? Can't even make it to the third line without choking up. Same goes for "America the Beautiful," and "My Country, 'Tis of Thee." Play Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the USA" to watch me dissolve in a pool of tears.
• You know that a 96 is an urban legend.
• Your heart breaks a little each time you have to tell your three-year-old that Daddy is on a "trip."
• There is one side of your bed that is significantly more creaky than the other.
• Similarly, your master bathroom has dual sinks, and one of them has seen a lot more use than the other.
• You know to avoid the base commissary on paid weekends.
• Your relationships with women you've known for 6 months are stronger than with the friends you've known all your life.
• Your closest family member lives on the opposite coast.
• Your address book is written entirely in pencil.
• You can have an entire conversation in acronyms. Ex.: "We did a DITY move instead of using TMO when we PCSd."
• You know that Memorial Day, Independence Day, and Veteran's Day are more than just excuses to have a barbecue.
• You recently saw SATC2, and truly couldn't believe it when Carrie was whining about falling into a routine with her husband. Me? I'd give anything to order takeout and watch tv in bed with my husband every night. Two days per week away? Not on your life, sister.
• You read the news feverishly and have your google alerts set to display "Afghanistan," "North Korea," "Iraq," and "Marines."
• You don't turn your phone off. Ever.
• Said phone accompanies you everywhere: the bathroom, the shower, to the kitchen to get a glass of water...
• You consider Westboro Baptists the absolute scum of the earth.
• You welcome your husband home with joy in your heart, but you know that it means that one of your friends is losing hers for awhile.
• You know all the words to the Marine Corps hymn. All three verses.
• You curse when you trip over steel-toed combat boots, but you always straighten them back upright.
• You got married at Christmas, but your wedding colors were red, white, and blue.
• You cheer for a sports team from across the continent.
• You couldn't be prouder to be one.

Life Lessons

THINGS I LEARNED GROWING UP IN THE SOUTH:

• If you can get ready and out the door in under 30 minutes, you shouldn't even bother leavin', sugar.
• It's called a "po'boy."
• (Regardless of flavor) It's called a "coke."
• Thou shalt not be seen in public without make-up or with wrinkled clothes.
• There is no excuse for not writing a thank-you note.
• An iron skillet is a must-have in any kitchen.
• College football is a religion and the SEC is God.
• If the forecast calls for snow in any amount, your presence is required at the local supermarket.
• Tornadoes can happen at any time. Keep cold beer in the basement.

THINGS I LEARNED AT COLLEGE IN NEW ENGLAND:

• If you were unfortunate (or stupid) enough to take an 8:30 class, you slept in your sweats and set your alarm for 8:25.
• It's called a "grinder."
• It's called a "pop."
• There is no excuse for rooting for the Yankees.
• Sam Adams is a must-have in any kitchen.
• The Red Sox are a religion, and Curt Schilling is God.
• If the forecast calls for snow in any amount, you yawn and roll over.
• A blizzard can happen at any time. Keep cold beer in the basement. (Or wherever.)

THINGS I HAVE LEARNED LIVING IN SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA:

• Wearing mini-skirts and Uggs is "fashionable." (I HEARTILY DISAGREE.)
• It's called a "sub."
• It's called a "soda."
• There is no excuse for not eating organic food.
• Avocado is a must-have in any kitchen. Also, don't eat the sushi if you live more than 30 minutes from the coast.
• The Chargers are a religion, and Norv is God. (But it seems they'll NEVER make it past the first round of the playoffs.)
• A "marine layer" is COMPLETELY different than "smog." "May Gray" and "June Gloom" are things you'll just have to get over since the other 10 months of the year are beautiful.
• An earthquake can happen at any time. Keep cold beer in a doorway.

Points of Order

Just a few thoughts:

1. Yes, I stole the idea for this month's header from Meghan. Yes, I think she'll get over it. They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
2. Irish people should always wear sunblock. The 2nd degree sunburn on my shoulders agrees.
3. I am currently torn between really wanting to return to work and continuing to stay at home for awhile. In the pro column for gainful employment is the second income that our family has been used to for awhile now, and the incessant stream-of-consciousness ramblings of my toddler will be much more bearable in smaller amounts. In the pro column for staying at home, I can plan an extended trip to New England and Newfoundland in July and August. And, you know, not having to...like...work.
4. I support Arizona's new immigration law. There. I said it. Maybe I have a slightly different perspective living less than a hundred miles from the border, but the way I see it is this: drug cartels and gangs = bad. By toughening up our immigration laws, we are cracking down on the number of corruptive influences that make their way into the country. Yes, I realize that a number of people come here to find work to support their families. Well, here's what I have to say to that: DO IT LEGALLY. No, I do not think that I should have to support you and your family and have my taxpayer dollars fund your health benefits when you aren't even in this country LEGALLY. I understand that Arizona's new law raises concerns about racial stereotyping and can sympathize with those who are here legally who may be subject to unfair treatment. But on the other hand, these legal citizens have probably been through the ringer in getting legal status, so if it were me and I did all that work, I might be kind of pissed if someone were reaping the advantages not having put in the work.
5. This "Everyone Draw Mohammed Day" is Stoopid. You're just fueling the fire, people. Stop being immature and leave well enough alone.
6. The Library of Congress recently archived all tweets. So that years from now, our children's children can look up what we had for lunch on any given day of the year.
7. This is awesome. I would like to meet this Nerdlington J. Techsupport.
8. Boston has no drinkable water. And MORE IMPORTANTLY, Bostonians can't get their Dunks and Sam Adams has stopped brewing. This will have HUGE repercussions, people. HUGE. Thankfully, Dunk has found another way for people to get their fix.

Quake

This is a screenshot of the big earthquake we had here yesterday, and all the following aftershocks. Yay.

Yesterday, as I was making Easter dinner for my family and friends, we had a 7.2 earthquake here in SoCal. Since I had, only a few minutes before, clogged our garbage disposal and Ian was tinkering with it, the two of us originally thought that the shaking was just the disposal trying to purge its contents. But when I looked up and saw the lights hanging from our ceiling swinging and heard the plates rattling, I knew we were having an earthquake. Ian and I both kind of froze for a minute, but when things started getting going, I sprinted for a doorway while Ian went to grab Aaron from his bed, where he was napping.

Let me just say: I HATE EARTHQUAKES. Growing up in "Tornado Alley" outside of Atlanta, and spending time in North Carolina, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts, I can deal with tornadoes, hurricanes, blizzards, nor'easters, etc. I can deal with the potential to be sucked up into the sky, buried under feet of snow. But having the earth fall away at my feet IS NOT COOL.

For the record, neither is being burned up by wildfires. I miss the east coast.

Return

I had hoped that when I had something important (to me, at least) to blog about, it would be a happier subject. But the past few weeks in North County have been anything but.

On February 25, a local high school student was reported missing, and the following Tuesday, March 2, her body was discovered in a hollow grave on the south shore of Lake Hodges, which we can see from our house. The Chelsea King case provided renewed interest in another teen missing since February of 2009. Saturday afternoon, the remains of Amber Dubois were discovered in Pala, and the local rec park, to which we often take Aaron to play, had its ponds drained in the search.

And the man suspected in both of these cases, John Albert Gardner, a registered sex offender, lives with his mother about 5 miles from our house.

As a parent, I hope to never have to know what Chelsea's and Amber's parents are going through right now. Their grief is compounded by the community's outrage that Gardner was free to commit these heinous acts in the first place. In 2000, Gardner was sentenced to six years in prison for molesting a 13-year old. In that case, a psychiatrist recommended that Gardner receive the maximum sentence, 30 years, indicating that the callous demeanor and lack of remorse indicated that Gardner would continue to be a threat to young women. Instead of receiving the psychiatrist-recommended maximum sentence, Gardner walked after serving five years.

And now, because the justice system failed in its civic duties, two teenagers are dead, and another is recovering from an attack. This despicable creature, who should never have been allowed to see the light of day after 2000, has pleaded not guilty to charges of rape and murder. This is detestable.

The system has failed both Chelsea and Amber. If Gardner is not given the death penalty for this, the system will have failed all of us.

Postseason Airing of Grievances

I realize that Festivus has come and gone, but I have a few grievances I would like to air:

• Indianapolis and the Great Forfeit of 2009: I have never seen Peyton Manning so close to tears. Jim Caldwell and Colts owe the city of Indianapolis a bit more than a shrug and a statement that they've only got their eyes on the prize. Why wouldn't you want to make history? Despite their support of the coach and the organizations, you can tell the the players are exceptionally disappointed in the decisions made by the Colts' organization.

In general, I think it's a complete cop-out not to play your starters. By not playing at 100%, teams like the Colts are giving other mediocre teams that shouldn't make the playoffs a get-out-of-jail free card, and a pass straight into the postseason. Weak.

I'm typing this as Brian Hoyer is currently playing quarterback for the Patriots and as Wes Welker sits in the locker room waiting for an MRI on his left knee. If Wes Welker misses the postseason because of this, he can take solace in the fact that he put up some of the best numbers the league has seen in years. Although I don't agree with Brady sitting out, at least there's a legitimate reason--dude's been playing with three broken ribs for weeks now. I'd still like to request that he suck it up, but, for some reason, Belichick doesn't consult me on these matters.

• It is currently 80 degrees outside. And yes, this is a grievance. It is January 3.