Well, I'm a soldier now...

Tuesday afternoon at work, I got a phone call from my son. 

"Where are you?" I asked him. 

"Home again."

"Yeah? How'd it go?"

"Well, I'm a soldier now." 

He had just gotten back from an overnight spent with two busloads of other new recruits, out near the airport. During their day and a half together, they sat around, bored, while the officers were getting all kinds of paperwork assembled and filled out. 

Then they had extensive physical check-ups, some basic testing of their physical condition (how fast can they run a mile, how many pushups and situps, etc). 

And then he signed three years of his life over to Uncle Sam, eight years if you count the commitment of inactive reserve status. 

He's going to be a CBRN Specialist. Impressive sounding, eh? Here's what the Army has to say about it:

Chemical, Biological, Radiological, and Nuclear (CBRN) Specialist (74D)

As a CBRN Specialist you will plan, employ, and coordinate CBRN defense systems in support of joint and combined arms operations including CBRN reconnaissance systems, biological agent detection systems (BIDS), obscurant systems, CBRN decontamination systems, and other CBRN hazard detection and warning systems. In addition, CBRN Specialists coordinate assets and efforts for weapons of mass destruction (WMD) force protection programs, CBRN defense support to civil authorities, CBRN vulnerability analysis, CBRN sensitive site assessment/exploitation, WMD elimination, technical escort operation, CBRN reconnaissance, and CBRN decontamination. The Chemical Branch provides the Army with a highly trained corps of CBRN experts.

My baby's going to be a specialist in chemical weapons.

Lots of people ask me how I'm doing with it. Since it's been a couple of months that he and I have been talking seriously about this possibility, I'm doing much better. Actually, in this whole anxiety producing process, once the decisions were made and action taken, the anxiety lessened considerably. The fear comes with the unknown.

My son let me come with him to the recruiting station when he went to pick out a job. I think he may have regretted that decision when I was was finding yet more questions to ask the officers. But hey, if I'm not going to question things for my son, who is? He doesn't want to appear like too much of an arrogant jerk, but I don't really care what they think of me. I want him to have the best opportunity possible.

And it didn't help when I got to the recruiting office, and all the officers were babies, under 30 themselves. It was much more comforting and helpful for my peace of mind when we were able to spend time with an officer over 40, who had close to 20 years of service.

Another help in this whole process has been being able to email and phone a good friend who can give me her insight and wisdom from the perspective of being an enlisted soldier herself. She's been in the Air Force for some years now, and gave us good advice about things like jobs to check, questions to ask, and things to expect.

So in a few months, I'll be packing up my boy and kissing him goodbye as he leaves for Basic Training. When he's done with that, he'll go to school for 20 weeks to learn how to deal with all kinds of dangerous and hazardous materials. 

Because I'm an external processor, I've been talking everyone's ear off about this whole change of direction in his life. The nice thing is, I've been given tons of support from my friends. And both he and I have been prayed over more in the last couple of weeks than in a long time, I think! 

We are blessed with our friends and our family. Without them, this would be a much more difficult process. 

I Think I Love You

...so what'm I so afraid of? I'm afraid that I'm not sure of... a love there is no cure for. (da DUM, da da da DUM DUM, da DUM!)

Wowee. David Cassidy used to make my heart go pitter pat (kinda still does, if we're being honest here).

And Davy Jones! Squeee! The cute Monkee. You know, the short Brittish one who played the tambourine. *sigh* I play the tambourine, too.

Such a huge flood of teen and tween memories accompany those two names. Remembering, in both cases, my sisters and I so looking forward to the new television season because we'd heard about the new show with the cute singer(s). Being envious of the girls down the street who had every issue of Tiger Beat and 16 magazines - their dad owned candy and smokes store, so of course they got theirs for free. Hmph.

I was just young enough for the Monkees that I listened to my sisters' lps, but The Partridge Family was totally my era. My next oldest sister and I bought a teen magazine if it published lyrics to their songs, and we'd make up our own tunes if we didn't know the real ones. Singing on the stage of our beds with our next door neighbor, our hairbrush as our microphone.

David and Davy both lived pinned up on my wall for who knows how many years. Among my very first record albums. Definitely my first crushes. Such sweet innocent times! :)

And two nights from today, both David Cassidy and Davy Jones are going to be IN CONCERT, one night only, just half an hour away from my house. And there are still tickets...

(ED: If I'd not been sick as a dog, I absolutely would have bought tickets; as it was, I was able to get tickets to another show from the same era, JCSuperstar, which I will write about at a later date...)

I'm Wol-ver-ine!

This has got to be the best, funniest opening number I've ever seen on the Oscars. I haven't ever seen any of Hugh Jackman's movies, but his fabulous performance last night has made me a fan. I may even have to rent X-Men!



Sexiest Man Alive, you betcha!

I'm Dreaming of a Green Spri-ing

Yes, it's only February 21, but I don't care. It's snowing today, and we'll end up with around four inches of the white stuff. I've already cleaned several heavy inchess off my car this morning, tomorrow morning will necessitate the same. 

And I'm thinking of Spring. 

That's the thing about Chicago Winters. We were treated to a few gorgeous days that reached the sixties. Trees all over the place have little knobbly buds beginning, because they were faked out by the warm weather. Lawns throughout the city shone emerald from the mixture of precipitation and sun they'd received. 

People want to burst out into our own form of Spring-selves, too. Our faces smooth, our eyes lose their squint, our backs straighten as we stand taller, reaching for the sun and its warmth...

"Faked out again," the snowflakes silently taunt us as they continue to coat us back into our Winter-selves. 

I won't bow down to the snow and cold. I've set the picture below as my desktop wallpaper, reminding me that inside, it's warm, it's green, and full of life!

(If anyone feels so inclined to use this photo as their desktop wallpaper, please be my guest - it's quite calm-invoking.) 

New Years Tradition

For the first time in years, decades probably, I spent New Year's Day curled up in front of the TV, watching the Tournament of Roses Parade. When I was a kid, I guess I thought that's what everyone did, that's what you were supposed to do on New Year's. We watched lots of parades, it seems. (Maybe that's because there were four channels to choose from, not 250 channels, and a much limited list of programming.)

This year Bob Eubanks was one of the announcers, and was one of several familiar faces, which also included Cloris Leachman and Jack Hannah.

It was fun to watch and listen as an adult, and learn all kinds of interesting facts about the participants in the parade:

• The Tournament of Roses Parade is now 120 years old. The Vally Hunt Club created the parade as a way to advertise Pasadena's great weather, even in winter. I thought it was particularly fitting that the Anchorage, Alaska, Visitors Bureau had a float in the parade!
  
  
• The Rotary Club was started in Chicago, and derived its name from the fact that the men would rotate homes in which the met? (it's true!)
  
  
• The hooves of the horses in the parade are painted with black shoe polish (not sure why, though).
  
  
• John Philip Sousa once played in the USC Marching Band (who participate yearly, I believe)
  
  
• Sons and Daughters of the Old West are a riding club made up of descendants of TV and movie Westerns.
  
  
• The Lions Club reproduced a newly discovered photo of Helen Keller and Annie Sullivan on their float.
  
  
• Andalusian horses get darker as they age.
  
  
• An Essex, England band financed its trip by going on a TV reality show and won 40,000 in either dollars or pounds.
  
  
• Another band traveling a long distance was from Puebla, Mexico - the Aguilas Doradas, Golden Eagles. They win the prize for best headgear, for sure!
  
  
• A number of bands, including the band from Hawaii, are specifically assembled for this parade - which means the musicians only have a couple of days to play together as a group.
  
  
• Bob Eubank's wife traveled with Bob Hope and the USO.
  
  
• Huntington Beach has been known as Surf City since 1925, ever since a legendary surfer from Hawaii moved there, bringing his surfboard and his sport.
  
  
• The word "buccaroo" is originally derived from the Spanish word "vaquero", which means cowboy.
  
  
• June Lockhart's parents were set up by Thomas Edison.
  

Some other highlights for me were seeing the Penn State marching band, football team and cheerleaders.


"We are!" "Penn State!"
"We are!" "Penn State!"








Watching the fabulous band from Prairie View A&M University. They were definitely the most energetic of the bands, in my opinion.

I can imagine walking, even marching, for 5 miles, but dancing!?


My favorite floats, judged on beauty and interest, were The Bollywood float (the photo at the top of this entry, the Vera Bradley float,





the City of Duarte / City of Hope float,










and the Rain Bird Corporation float.







Watching the parade was enjoyable not only because of the nostalgia factor, it was fun and interesting and beautiful all at once. Maybe I'm going to have to revive this tradition!

(All photos from www.marching.com website)

Being Known, Being Loved

Some people have an eye for gift giving - or gift choosing, perhaps I should say. I am kind of gift giving challenged. Almost every year for me, it's the same old thing as Christmas approaches, racking my brain trying to think up interesting gifts to get for friends and family.

In the past few days, I've been given a couple of gifts that astounded me. Not because they were so fancy or costly or rare, but because my friends saw something that so reminded them of me, they were moved to get it and give it to me.

I had to miss the annual "girls' day out" with a small group of friends. They told me that they had missed me, and gave me a little present to demonstrate it. It was perfect - a little ornament in the shape of a front door with a wreath hung on it. It's just too cute! My friends know I have a thing for doors and windows, and have several door-like objet d'art hanging on my living room wall that this ornament matches perfectly.

Then last night another girlfriend and I exchanged gifts. Since she likes monkeys, I found another silly monkey-related present for her (a pair of slippers that look like sock monkeys, which she assures me are very comfy!). She gave me an object whose purpose was a mystery for a moment. It was a designed rack of some sort. My first guess was a plant rack, but it wasn't really the correct proportions.

It turned out to be a teacup rack that displays four cups and saucers. I was very moved because while she and her husband were browsing antique shops on vacation in August, she saw it and thought of me. She knows I have a number of old teacups that used to belong to my Mom. While the store had a number of antique teacups for sale, she knew that a more meaningful gift would be a way to display the cups from my Mom.

She also bought me a vintage glass Christmas ornament in the shape of Big Ben, because she knows I've been planning a trip to the UK (unfortunately delayed till the US$ gets a little healthier).

Now these three gifts are proudly set out on my living room table. My former pastor used to say that being known is important for us humans. Exchanging gifts with friends is fun, but much more meaningful than having the gifts is having friends whom I know and love, and who know me and love me. I feel very blessed this Christmas.

(To my special friends: you know who you are and that I love you!)

Drastic Changes

I hate playing around with my hair. That's basically the reason I grew it so long. Of course, once it got growing, it got to be a little contest with self to see just how long I was willing to let it go.

A couple of years ago when I cut a considerable length off of it, I was able to donate it to Locks of Love. However, I only had 6 inches, instead of the preferred 10 inches. That's okay, they Locks of Love can sell it 'to offset costs', as they say. But this time around, I wanted to give enough hair to make a wig.

So yesterday, my favorite hairdresser, Olivia, put my hair into a bunch of smaller ponytails - after asking me about sixteen times if I really wanted to cut that much off - and made my head several pounds lighter. (It will be interesting to see if it makes any difference in frequency of headaches.)

Even though I've been through this once before, fairly recently, I was still surprised at just how much hair that made, when gathered all together. I've been told I've got a lot of hair, but blonde hair tends to be smaller in circumference than other colors, so it appears thinner... not true here.

We ended up with a big hunk of ponytail about as big around as my wrist.

Here are some of the fun residuals. I posted the photo of me and Olivia on my Facebook page, and have gotten a bunch of comments on it. One of my friends said that she'd done the exact same thing yesterday. If I'm reading her comment right, my appointment was at 1:00, and hers was at 2:00! I wonder if she went to the same shop...