Tuesday, November 23, 2004

Hi and Bye (for a few days)

Hey, F.O.T.E.s! I know I've been AWOL for a bit--sorry I haven't updated. Just wanted to let you know The Flock will be going to see The Ram for Thanksgiving, so we'll be absent awhile. Also, Dear Friends, my email is being testy, so if you email and I don't email back--that's probably why. Or, if you email and get told I rejected it--that's also why. If you leave me a comment here, I'll try to email you from Points Unknown.
Have a wonderful, blessed Thanksgiving--and remember...we're thanking GOD, not the native Americans. ;-) (Who are wonderful people, they're just not God!)
Y'all keep your wool dry!
The Gonna-Go-See-My-Honey Ewe

Thursday, November 11, 2004

Veterans' Day

Blessings, F.O.T.E.s!
I apologize for not posting in a while. There have again been complaints. :-) We're doing well and staying very busy.
I woke up this morning thinking about it being Veterans' Day and, as I have every Veterans' Day, thinking of my dad. He was on a battleship during the Korean War...(oops, I mean "Korean Conflict." No, it wasn't a war...even though Daddy was shot at and many troops killed. Sorry, sounds like war to me, no matter what the official title is.) Anyway, this year my mind also brought up the picture of my dear Ram. We have been soooo blessed so far to get to hear from him nearly every day he's been gone. We're only beginning to get a taste of what this separation means. I definitely have a more acute appreciation of the sacrifices made by military families from the beginning of our history as a nation. Our generation now ("Kids these days!!" LOL) really knows little of what it means to sacrifice. Generally, we're pretty bloated on the easy life. Food's plentiful and easy credit makes it "possible" for us to have the things our parents and grandparents had to work decades for. The "American Dream" is not so much a dream anymore, but something young families feel entitled to. Let's think hard about what our nation's founders went through to leave us this legacy we now enjoy. Just because it came easy to us, doesn't mean it was a "cheap gift." Let's take this day to reflect on the legacy our Veterans have made possible for us. Hey, and offer up a prayer for my friend, Mrs. K whose husband made the ultimate sacrifice almost exactly a year ago. This one year anniversary is tough on her. Regardless of your politics, realize that there are folks out there watching your back. Keeping you "covered." Who have "your six." You know...when I went to the market yesterday, I didn't worry about a car bomb detonating in the parking lot. Our troops are giving their all to see that I don't *have* to worry about that. Could it happen? You betcha. It happened 3 years ago in NYC. Am I more aware today of what goes on around me when I'm out and about? Surely. I'm a vigilant mama. BUT, I am thankful for the relative calm our country is blessed to enjoy. I know this is rather disjunct...look in my profile... it says "ra-ra-ramblings." :-) I will end this with a quote that I came across yesterday:
"War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral
and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse. The person who
has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own
personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made so and
kept so by the exertions of better men than himself." John Stuart Mill (1806-1873)

Y'all keep your wool dry and HUG A VETERAN today!!!
The Red-White-and Blue Ewe

Tuesday, November 02, 2004

Bush vs. Kerry/Musical vs. Marsupial

The Plan: The Ewe and The Flock munch popcorn and watch t.v. on Election Night and discuss government, politics and social studies.
The Reality: The Ewe herds The Flock to the emergency room, squirting Germ-X every few minutes to ward off influenza and discussing how antibiotics work, what a "gurney" is what the term "nocturnal" means.
The Background: I, The Ewe, was cranking up the computer and television, readying The Flock for a night of election-return watching and education in the workings of government. The girls told me they were going out to feed Georgette. Next thing I know, there is fierce screaming coming from the front door. I growled, thinking the girls were providing the neighbors with a knock-down-drag-out bit of entertainment. I got my game face on and marched smartly into the front room, ready to "be angry to them." I found that they were not screeching at each other, rather at some Monster on the front porch. Lovable ran up to me, screaming, "Musical got bitten!! A 'possum bit Musical's toe!!!" I thought surely I was misunderstanding something. I joined the girls in their display of sheer panic. "WHAT?! How do you know it was a 'possum?!! Where is it?! What happened?!" ACKKK!!!! Carnival and Lovable began spilling out details, while Musical stood bleeding on the white linoleum, wailing. The rest of us were much too busy panicking to comfort her. (Poor thing. Eventually, while I was calling the e.r., Carnival loved on her.) Seems that Musical had stuck her foot into the Taj Mahal--a house the girls made of cardboard boxes for Georgette. Musical was playing with the cat and the cat (Georgette) bit her toe. Carnival whisked off the top of the Taj Mahal to administer some much-deserved corporal punishment to the cat, but discovered, "EGADS!" it was *not* Georgette, but a Georgette-sized opossum. In fact, at about that time, Georgette came padding around the corner to see what the hubbub was about. The story goes that the girls and the 'possum all wore the same shocked expression when the truth was suddenly learned. After the initial shrieking, Carnival and Lovable ran into the house, leaving the wounded Musical on the front porch to fend for her dazed and bleeding self. (Whatever happened to "never leave a man behind?") Finally, she got her wits about her enough to come inside. My understanding is that the 'possum was, at that point, still in the box, hissing at the confused cat. Anyway, the doctor on the phone said we should come in for antibiotics, at least. I'm embarrassed to admit that we didn't even clean the wound before we left. I try to be a well-prepared mother, periodically rehearsing what to do in case of choking, or bleeding or head injuries, but I had never rehearsed wild marsupial bites. You just can't anticipate everything, I guess.
Finally, we'd calmed down enough to begin movement toward the van. Problem was, it was parked in the back and the outside flood light had burned out. So, we had to find the flashlight, which was not in its assigned placed. It had been moved during a thunderstorm last week. Finally, I found it. Armed with both the flashlight and a broom to fend off the swarming throng of crazed opossums which was sure to be circling out there, we went forward in a moving huddle toward the van. I wished, at that time, that I'd listened closer to The Ram's descriptions of the proper way to move troops. Even without the proper technical knowledge, we made it to the van and began the drive to the hospital.
A few hundred yards down the road, I ran over a 'possum.
When we got to the hospital, I had to retell the story. I could tell the emergency room personnel were trying not to enjoy it too much, what with an injured tot standing right there and all. Two hours later, we left, with a prescription for an antibiotic in hand. Part of what took so long was that the doctor had to get in contact with "The Experts" regarding the chance of rabies in opossums in our county. Thank goodness, the consensus was that rabies in an opossum here was highly unlikely. As we left, a gentleman we had waited alongside in the e.r. waiting room advised Musical to look first before she stuck her foot in any more boxes. She agreed that that was a good idea.
By the time we got home, the election was done with, except for Ohio, which is still not official. I waited up until 1 a.m. for the word from the Buckeye State, then gave up and went to bed. Definitely not the election night I'd envisioned, but exciting, nonetheless.
Well, must run. Y'all keep your wool dry...and watch out where you stick your feet.
The Ewe