True Grittier

It's time once again for my totally unqualified, totally random movie review.

This past Christmas weekend the husband and I had one last opportunity for a date night before his boarding a plane for places less American, so we decided on the classic dinner-and-a-movie combo.  I, being the completely off-the-charts awesome wife that I am, let him choose the movie.  Mostly because I knew he was going to choose the new "True Grit", and I wanted to see it, too.  I was a fan of the John Wayne version as a kid, as well as the follow up, "Rooster Cogburn", and I'd heard surprisingly good things about the remake.

In a nutshell, it was a VERY good flick.  The casting was superb.  The dialog witty.  The filming gritty and at the same time artful.  And, perhaps the best gauge for rating a movie - I'd like to see it again.  It's got to be downright difficult to take an already good movie and redo it, keep the story the same, yet improve it enough to reach the status of being an excellent stand-alone film.

Of course, upon my discussion of the film with hubby, I had to voice a few complaints.

#1) This first complaint has nothing to do with the actual movie, it just deserves a rant.  Either more idiots are attending the movies, or we have insanely poor seating choice.  The last three movies we've attended we've sat in close vicinity to Professional Talkers, who insist on practicing their craft throughout the movie.  True Grit was no exception, as the folks behind us not only insisted on talking, but narrating.  In addition, one lady found it necessary to repeat every funny piece of dialog throughout her narration.

#2)  I had to wonder if it really is possible to cut all of a person's fingers off with a knife in one big chop.  Hubby voted yes, on the condition that the knife was sharp enough and had enough mass. I still vote no.  Maybe one finger and deep deep deep cuts to the rest.  Maybe all fingers with a hatchet.  And, maybe if the knife is brandished point down in a more powerful grip.  But I am dubious this feat can actually be achieved with a large knife wielded in the position one would assume if they were cutting bread.

Mythbusters may prove me wrong on this point, but I remain a Doubting Thomas.

#3)  I was hoping this remake would somehow replace the big snake-bite scene with something better.  I'm partial to snakes, and it hurts my heart when movies take an irrational fear - such as the one most people have of snakes - and use it as a story prop.  By taking this avenue, numerous snake myths are prolonged and accepted as universal truths:

Snakes Are Scary And We Should Shoot Them All.


Of Course Snakes Like To Hide In Dead Bodies.  Because They're Evil.


You Should ALWAYS Cut On The Bite And Suck The Poison.  Everyone Knows That.


Once You Disturb A Snake Out Of A Hibernation-Induced Stupor, They Are Never Sluggish And Don't Want To Hide Or Avoid Conflict - They Will Instead Move With Lightening Speed And Will Stop At Nothing To Bite You Viciously And For No Good Reason.  Because They're Evil.

It's safe to say I could've done without that scene.  Regardless, I'll probably buy it, and It'll become a favorite in our collection.

Digital Christmas

My Personal Battle with Spandaphobia

I posted a few months back about my incessant drooling over purchasing a new mountain bike in order to replace my old clunker, and to take advantage of the awesomeness that is the local biking trails. I must say, I'm not a huge fan of Little Rock so far, but the excellent biking opportunities are really softening my harsh attitude toward the area.

Recently, I finally procured my new mountain bike.  Turns out my new job at the bike shop, which comes with some pretty perky perks, enables me to do a one-time-a-year employee purchase directly from the factory.  I'm guessing the Big Bike Guys figure that if we salespersons are going to plug their bikes, it's better that we experience them first-hand.  I couldn't agree more.  It also meant that a MUCH better bike now fit into my self-imposed new mountain bike allowance, and I spent several weeks giddily trying to make a choice (which nearly drove the hubby bonkers).

In the end, after much agonizing deliberation, I ended up with the carbon-frame, full-suspension, 29" wheel (as opposed to the 26" wheels mountain bikes used to have), Specialized "Epic" Comp.

I must say, the name "Epic" is a truly perfect name for this bike.  It's...well...EPIC.  I've been out on the trails a few times now, and love the bike more every time I ride it.  I'm also kicking myself for letting life get in the way and missing out on years enjoying this sport.

However, there is one thing I'm not loving so much - biking attire.  Back in the day when I dabbled in trail riding, out of a desire for modesty, I wore padded riding spandex shorts with baggy gym shorts over the top. But now, it seems, most bikers just wear the spandex shorts, or in cold weather, long tights. I've gotten used to people coming into the shop wearing their riding gear, or as one old guy termed them, "Ridin' britches."

At first I was resistant to wearing spandex, at least without something over the top.  "So my butt and thighs are just going to be hanging out there?"

"Oh come on...don't be a Spandaphobe.  Nobody wears pants - dress for the sport!", I was told with eye rolls and contempt.

And it's true...in the biking magazines, as well as in snapshots displayed around the shop, all the photos of riders and racers show them wearing only spandex, and looking pretty cool.  But coolness isn't the only reason - wearing baggy shorts can be a liability, getting caught on various bike parts or trail obstructions.  Lastly, there is also comfort in numbers - if you're around others in nothing but their ridin' britches, you tend to feel less conspicuous.  You are now a part of a herd. 

And so, crumbling under the peer pressure, I've now entered the realm of people who wear spandex in public.  Swimmers.  Ballerinas.  The actors in the new Tron movie.  Extremely obese women driving those little carts through Wal-Mart.  But lately I suffered a blow to my growing spandex confidence, when I took a ride in Burns Park located just outside of post, and realized once I got close to the post gate that I'd forgotten my military I.D....which meant I had to leave the comfort of the car and walk into the visitor center, in my riding tights, with no extra duds to throw over the top, and nobody with me to offer strength in numbers.

I attempted to be nonchalant, but my conversation with the base cop who was waiting to hear the reason I was standing there, sheepish and uncomfortable, at the (very low) desk went something like this:

"Um...we live here, but I forgot my I.D...Um...I was out riding...riding my bike...which is why I'm dressed like this.  Really."

"Is that warm enough?"

"Oh yeah.  But I should probably throw some pants in the car.  Or not forget my I.D."

"Probably."


In any case, I'm probably just going to have to get over my Spandaphobia.  My brother suggested the possible addition of a cape to go with the tights - just to give people something else to focus on, and to look that much cooler. Might not be a bad idea.

"Then it’s hi! hi! hey! The Army’s on its way!"

I know, I know....I'm a bad bad blogger.  I consider myself properly chastised by impatient readers. My excuse is that the past few months have been beyond hectic, with last-ditch attempts to get our house somewhat under control, and trying to prepare for my husband's deployment - the first deployment during our marriage.  I'm afraid blogging fell by the wayside for a while.

Now, however, the good Major is on his last leg of training before heading east....extremely east. When the average "civilian" thinks of a soldier's deployment, what most commonly comes to mind is the image of the brave soldier stepping on the bus, waving goodbye to loved ones before heading off into the sunset.  In actuality, a deployment starts waaaaaay before the troops actually board the bus or plane, with months and months of prep, training, work, and worry - especially when said husband is the Operations Officer, which I've discovered the hard way is the most labor-intensive duty in the whole deployment she-bang.

While outwardly brushing off those offers of sincerest wife-of-a-husband-deployed sympathies, I've found myself popping awake in the wee hours of the morning playing the "what if" game, ranging from the probable to the absolutely ridiculous, trying to run through every possible scenario I may have to handle.

 "What if a pipe bursts?"


"What if the fridge breaks?"


"What if the roof falls in?"


"What if I suddenly develop unexplained and total amnesia?"


"What if I'm attacked by rabid garden gnomes?"

I'm a little surprised at myself, having been a capable, independent, single woman for so long before getting hitched. Having been married for a few years, while I still think of myself as independent, I'm surprised to see how much couples come to rely on each other, and that you really do become a true team.  Now my teammate has been called up to the majors for a while, and I'm finding my way back to self-reliance.  It's kind of weird and a little disorienting.

It really makes me appreciate the sacrifices made by soldiers and their families in our country's past. Nowadays we have the benefits of email, world-capable cell phones, and video chat, which will allow us to communicate often and in real-time from half a world away. This of course takes the absence of a loved-one from extreme hardship to temporary and bearable.

In any case, I know that during this deployment, even if the gnomes do attack, the sun will still rise and set, and the world will still turn.  I have loads of projects to keep me busy aside from work, and I plan on tanking up on books and movies.  Once I start having in-depth conversations with the pets, some of you may expect a phone call.

Goodbye Cruel World...

...Hello favorite fishing hole!

Forgive my recent unbloggyness, which has plagued me heavily lately, but this time I have a good excuse.  Last week Marden and I traded in Little Rock for a few days in the woods at our favorite fishing spot.  While many of Marden's fellow soldiers are hitting the tropics with their significant others for their big pre-deployment vacation, we instead stayed semi-local and low key, heading to Montauk State Park in Missouri - the headwaters of the Current River.  A cold, clear stream, beautiful fall weather, copious amounts of trout fishing, relaxing, campfires, and eating grilled fresh-caught fish and junk food with the hubby were the essential ingredients for beating those old living-in-the-city-house-isn't-finished-don't-know-anyone-pre-deployment blues.

Montauk isn't the fanciest place, nor is it the absolute best or nearest place for trout fishing.  Arkansas has some darn fine trout fishing spots, but unfortunately they're almost all tailwater rivers below hydroelectric dams - which means a fisherman (or woman) is constantly battling fluctuating and unpredictable water flow.  When the generators are running, fishing is impossible for wade-fishermen like us.  Many times I've spent half an hour getting geared up, stepped into the river, only to have the horn blow signaling a rapid water rise.  When you're planning a fishing vacation, the last place you want to find yourself is sitting morosely on the bank, watching high water.

However, Missouri is blessed with many natural cold-water springs, four of which have been developed into state parks with hatcheries that raise and stock trout.  While the result isn't quite up to the wild-trout stream standards of some other semi-local waters, and certainly not anything like the famous streams out west, it's still a guaranteed good time for scenery, nostalgia, and fishing.  All without that maddening drive across Kansas.

Without going on and on like I'm channeling Thoreau, I'll just say it was a week made to order, with perfect weather and fall colors so vibrant they took your breath away and you feel like bursting from beauty overload.  There were times I just quit fishing in order to sit on the bank and take it all in - not just the colors, but the sound of the crystal-clear water, the flash of a trout sucking a bug off the water, wood ducks gliding along the bank, minnows scooting between moss-covered rocks - absorbing it all to remember during the cold and drab winter that's just around the corner. 

Here's a video of one of the many springs at Montauk.  It's not the main spring, which is much bigger, but these little bubbling ones are pretty cool:

Best Reality Show Ever

I like to keep a "Best Things Ever" list, and recently I've found a TV show that makes the cut.  If you find yourself with nothing to do at 9:00 (Central) on a Sunday night, turn over to the History Channel and watch Swamp People, which showcases some backwater characters of the Louisiana bayous and swamps as they hunt alligators during the month-long season.  We're addicted.  Perhaps it's our recent migration from country to city that's got us needing a good dose of Ultimate Redneckness, but we're hooked.  Any show that before the opening gives a disclaimer about some images being disturbing really gets my attention.

I'm sure this show offends some sensibilities, offends some anti-hunters, offends those life-long city dwellers who don't realize not everyone lives in an apartment or suburbia, and offends those living in that fantasy world where meat comes from supermarkets and leather comes from a factory.  As for me, it's a very interesting look into the lives of people living on what could be considered the "fringes" of society, who still rely mostly on the land for their livlihoods, and family for their happiness.

In any case, I think it's a good way to pass an hour.

Ho Hum

Yes, I'm still here.  Every other day or so I come look at my blog, try to think of something to write, and end up mumbling "Meh..." to myself and go on to something else.  To say I've hit a blogging dry spell would be a pretty massive understatement.

I'm not sure what has brought on the ho-hum attitude.  We're still settling into our new house, and I'm settling into my new job, and into city life.  City life is just that - city life.  I still feel about as comfortable as a bowl-raised goldfish thrown in the ocean.  While the city has a lot to offer as far as good restaurants and improved shopping, I still really miss living in the country and the comfort of a small town.  I'm sure time will improve my feelings toward living in the city, but I don't think I'll ever be feeling the warm-fuzzies for congested traffic and poor manners I often encounter.  So far, it's like swimming alone in a sea of uncaring strangers.  Time will likely fix that, too.

I've also been bummed by the weather.  When viewing a weather map, my eyes instinctively go to where we used to live, and I see the area enjoying rain and cooler temperatures, while Little Rock remains dry, dusty, and hot, hot, hot.

As far as home improvement goes, things have been slow but steady.  Aside from flooring, we haven't done anything major - just a lot of the small, sometimes tedious things that are slow to come together.  Paint touch-ups, new electrical outlet covers, trim, and organization issues have been the main thrust as of late.  And with hubby's busy schedule, including a pre-deployment two-week trip to the mid-east (which reminded me how much next year is going to suck rotten eggs), these home improvements have fallen mostly on my plate.  During his absence, I addressed a major headache in my life - the dreaded pantry.

Like Mom, I like to keep a well-stocked pantry, but the folks who lived here before weren't so concerned about neat, tidy, easy-to-access kitchen items.  They were fans of one of my arch nemeses - wire shelving (bleh!).  Wire shelving which encourages cans to fall over, small items to fall through, and filth to gather in nooks and crannies.  I couldn't walk by the pantry without averting my eyes and suppressing a dramatic shudder.  After researching some shelving options, I instead bought a drill press, some 1x12 boards, white paint, and went to work building fully adjustable shelves.  I'm pretty satisfied with the results, if I do say so myself.

Here is the pantry before:

Here is the pantry after:

Hey, I can brag a little, right? 

Get a Job!

For the past few years, I've been basically unemployed.  This phenomenon has been partly by choice, partly by circumstance.  Once the husband and I got hitched, moved, and I quit State Park rangering, I'd planned on taking a couple months break from the workforce while we redid our house in Mountain Home.  Those two months turned into two years of unemployment, with a few sporadic stints as a substitute teacher and some freelance arty things.

Recently, now that we're starting to get settled in Little Rock, I've been thinking that it's time to get back at it.  The title of Army-Wife-Who-Does-Home-Improvement is getting old, and I planned on looking for at least a part-time job in earnest.

Turns out I didn't have time to look - one fell straight from the sky into my lap.

The other day I stopped into Arkansas Cycling and Fitness to continue my incessant drooling over mountain bikes, and walked out with a resume request, which quickly turned to an offer for a part-time job.  I'd been trying to decide where to look for a job that I'd enjoy.  It was a no-brainer that I don't belong in an office environment...I'm definitely happy getting my hands dirty and doing stuff.

So far I've been on the job three days, and I LOVE it.  "Bicycle Shop Salesman" never entered my mind previously as a career choice, but I think I was born to work in a bike shop.  The employee discount isn't too shabby, either.  I'm sure it'll eventually get old, but it's such a busy store I don't think it'll ever be mundane.  Yesterday I officially made my first sale.  We don't work on commission, but I helped a lady for two hours find her perfect bike and fit it to her so she could ride the river trail with her husband.  She'd never had a good, properly fitting bike before, and had never had anyone take the time to thoroughly answer all her questions.  In an age of ginormous discount stores, it's refreshing to work in a place where true customer service on quality products is placed above all else. 

See?  I already sound like a salesman. 

Back from an Adventure

I'm back from another blogging break, this time due to the crapping out of my computer.  It's been ailing for a while, and finally gave up the ghost.  I'm now on a borrowed computer for a borrowed amount of time until I decide on a new one for purchase.

I'm also back from a small adventure.  I took a few days to attend the Restoring Honor rally put on by Glenn Beck in Washington D.C.  Depending on what news organization you choose to watch, no doubt reports about the event have varied wildly.  I've already seen a few of them - part of me can't believe the inaccuracies that have been reported, and another much more cynical part of me isn't the least bit surprised.  All I can accurately report is what I saw and heard.

Like many Americans, I've been bothered by politics the last few years.  Things just seem to get worse - from the corruption, the ever-widening gulf between Democrats and Republicans, the fact that most politicians see no need to listen to their constituents, and most especially the increasing venom and hate being hurled around with wild abandon.  Personally, I don't like being called a hate-monger or a racist or downright stupid simply because I don't want to be a backdoor Socialist, I don't believe in the principles of Marxism, and I do strongly believe that the ideas and principles that our founding fathers put forth are still valid and applicable today.  So, instead of sitting on my duff and continuing to complain about the state of things, I heeded Beck's call to rally.  I needed a positive experience, and like a great many people, I was tired of feeling helpless.  I wanted to DO something.

So, I went to D.C. for several days with my mother and aunt.  It was surreal - walking in the shadows of iconic buildings and monuments, seeing the wonders of the Smithsonian, and meeting countless crowds of people excited about attending the rally.  We encountered so many people that we started to worry about getting a decent spot on Saturday.  Since we depended on the Metro Rail for transportation, and were staying way too far from downtown to consider walking, we were extra worried since the Saturday Metro didn't run until 7:00 a.m.  Even though the rally didn't start until 10:00, we got a little antsy...antsy enough to get out of bed at 11:30 p.m., get dressed, and catch a Metro to the Lincoln Memorial in the middle of the night, armed only with a blanket and backpacks full of water and snacks. 

We found several thousand others had the same idea, and we joined in and staked out an area to wait out the night.  (Actual camping on the mall is not allowed, but park rangers allowed "waiting.")  Talk about surreal - I can honestly say I never thought I'd spend a night under the stars, under the iconic cherry trees, beside the reflecting pool, moonlight the only thing illuminating the Lincoln Memorial and Washington Monument - but strong convictions will make you do some strange things.  We chatted the night away with people around us who were from all over - Ohio, Pennsylvania, Montana, South Carolina, Florida, Minnesota, even California.  About 5:00 a.m. I got restless and took a walk, and ended up sitting for more than an hour on the top step of the Lincoln Memorial, listening to the gentle but growing murmur of more and more people joining me on the steps and the mall quickly filling up as the crowds streamed in.  Once I watched the sun come up, I made my way back to our "camp" to eagerly await the start of the rally.

Our campout turned out to be a good thing - we heard reports of Metro lines the length of football fields, and people waiting hours just to board, not to mention gridlocked traffic even keeping taxis from getting in.  We also had a fairly good view thanks to our long night's wait, though the folks with the REALLY good views had been there since Wednesday.  Rally-goers were a pretty diverse group, despite what any press may report.  I saw young along with old, and all ages in between.  Black as well as white, Hispanic, and Asians.  Speakers were all colors and backgrounds, starting with a prayer given by a Native American.  And, I'm not sure, but I think I was sitting next to two gay guys. :)

I won't give minuscule details of the whole rally, but it was honestly the most amazing event I've ever attended in my entire life.  The speakers were wonderful, including Sarah Palin, who spoke only as a military mom, not as a politician.  Alveda King was simply unbelievable - it's astounding she's currently enduring death threats for the message of peace and unity she gave.  And those were just a couple.  Other speakers such as Marcus Luttrell (the "Lone Survivor") and ballplayer Albert Pujols also blew us away.  There were many other speakers, singers, and performers equally as inspiring.

Beck ended the rally, which was an overall homage to the military and an distinct call to peace, unity, charity, honor, and honesty, with his presentation of the new Black Robe Regiment - a group of clergy from multiple faiths who have pledged to preach about individual God-given (not government-given) rights and personal/individual responsibility.  Christian preachers linked arms with Muslim Imams, linked with Jewish Rabbis...and on and on - 240 representing his thousands of church clergy, male and female, who have made the same promise.

In the very end we were treated with special patriotic singing from Jodee Messina and a couple other Nashville stars.

On our very slow way out with the masses, I couldn't help but notice how clean everyone was leaving the grounds.  All trash was picked up and put in bags next to trash cans - everyone stayed afterward to clean up after themselves.  Crossing the mall we encountered the first rally protesters - a guy and girl with a megaphone, yelling pretty hateful things.  I won't repeat any of it, but all the rally-attendees simply ignored or smiled at them.  Apparently they didn't listen to the rally.

I know not everyone agrees with the rally, or is receptive to the message.  You may be smirking your way through this whole post, having decided that I'm just another Conservative cheeseball.  Just the fact that it was put on by Glenn Beck is enough for some people, despite the positive message of peace and unity, and the fact that $5.5 million dollars were raised for the Special Operations Warrior Foundation, which provides college educations for fallen special ops soldiers.  But, for me it was a wonderful, life-changing experience, and that fills me with hope.

Running Update

It's been a few weeks now since I posted about my newest quest to get in shape through barefoot running.  I'm very proud to say, despite the broiling temperatures, I've actually managed to stick with it.  Running with the Vibram FiveFingers has been hard to get used to, but lots of stretching and a little patience is the key.  I'm now up to a strong two miles, even able to sprint the last tenth.

Best of all - no shin splints!  For me, this is a small miracle.  In addition to no shin splints - no achy knees, and no painful hips.  I've been studying a bit about proper running form, and of course - in years past I've been doing it all wrong.  Running without shoes has made switching to a more "proper" gait easy and natural.

If you visit running forums, you'll see not everyone agrees that barefoot running is all that great.  I agree, it's probably not the answer for everyone, and if you're a habitual shoe-runner already, it's going to be hard to make the switch.  In fact, if you're running successfully in shoes with no issues, there might not be a reason to fix what isn't broken.  I'm just judging from my own success, and for me, I'm not going back to shoes.

My next step - to get off the track and on the trail.  The track is getting boring.

Moving is Hard

I've been resisting the urge lately to whine in my posts, but I think today the whine is going to win out.  I may just have to get some cheese to go with it. 

Moving is hard, in a seemingly infinite variance of ways.  Large home improvement jobs, such as painting, laying floor, and making repairs eventually give way to smaller repairs, unpacking boxes, and trying not to get stressed and overwhelmed by the fact that we have WAY too much stuff, and where is it all going to go?  Now we're getting down to the parts I really find annoying - replacing switch covers, installing trim, and trying to keep up with housework and laundry while cleaning up construction mess and unpacking boxes of things I don't really need.

And, while the inside of our house is coming together slowly, the outside living areas are still a major disaster.  The decks are in bad need of a powerwashing and coat of stain.  The two storage buildings are a wreck.  The back yard is mostly dirt peppered with some sickly Bermuda.  The walkway from the back porch to the back gate where we park is an obstacle course, since someone in the recent past decided to make the walkway out of those ugly concrete paving stones, held in place by ugly white landscape rock, which have since washed out all over the yard, leaving the paving stones sticking up ready to catch a toe.  After the major work of redoing this house nearly single-handedly (husband has helped where he could, but has recently been greatly preoccupied with pre-deployment training and working insane hours), I'm worn to a frazzle, and I can't quite stomach the thought of tackling the major work of making the outdoors presentable.

My goal of a nice garden with a few chickens is getting farther and farther away, and it's hard not to feel a bit down-and-out.  Being stuck in the bubble of Camp Robinson doesn't help, seemingly forgotten by some busy friends I could really have used over the past few months, if for nothing but moral support.  I'm starting to agree with the notion that Facebook has ruined the idea of real friendship.

So, just bear with me - I'm just in a funk.  I'll keep plugging along.  Maybe I just need copious amounts of chocolate.

Who Needs a Spa?

I stole this video from Stephanie's Pointed Meanderings blog (Stephanie I hope you don't mind!).  I'm not usually a blog thief, but this video was too awesomely sexist to pass up.  Finally, someone has found the key to relaxation...making your husband the perfect cup of coffee.  Here I have been stressed over getting our house in order, finding a job, living in the city, anxiety about being able to make new friends, and most of all - hubby's impending year-long deployment - when all I really need is instant Folgers.

(By the way, instant Folgers tastes like feet.)

Too Hot to Blog

I know that's not a good excuse, but holy cow.  This summer is sucking my motivation faster than an egg can fry on the hood of my car.  I really hate being one of those people complaining about the weather, but I'd hoped against hope that our past weekend's slight reprieve from three-digit temps would be an indication that the heat and humidity was subsiding.  But the bright side - it is August, and the Bass Pro and Cabelas hunting catalogs in our mailbox remind me that cooler weather is that much closer. 

Instead of incessant griping, I'm posting this video of a dog who has the right idea.

It's Hot.

Last night during a phone conversation with my brother, he aptly described the absolutely insane heat and humidity blanketing the south:

"It's like being stuck in the Jolly Green Giant's armpit."

So True...

Mullets Alive!

Well, despite moronic politics, mullets still run free and wild.  My last phone was not conducive to capturing mullets, but with the acquisition of a new phone equipped with an awesome (and silent) camera, I'm back in the hunt.

These were all captured on our recent trip to South Alabama/North Florida - an area very rich in mullet habitat.  Mullets grow as thick as the peanut fields.  Here are three captures of notable specimens:

Fort Rucker Mullet:

This mullet was serenely gazing at static displays in the Ft. Rucker Aviation Museum, where Trent's graduation was held.  I had to feign interest in the display text I'd already read just to make sure it wasn't one of those deceptive hat-mullets, where a wig is actually attached to the hat.  I was able to personally verify the authenticity of this mullet. 

Navy Aviation Museum Mullet:

Mullets seem more at home in certain situations - such as truck pulls, Nascar races, and county fairs.  I'm going to go out on a limb and make a scientific claim based on my own observations - mullets are also attracted to static displays of military airplanes.  This femmullet was glorious, but safest when viewed at a distance.

Rockin' Biker Mullet

This is a classic biker mullet.  Rugged, tough, and windblown.

This next photo is obviously not a mullet, but was a sight that proved definitely photo worthy.  I would also guess it might be driven by a mullet.  Yes, it's a cat car.

Complete with a cat butt.  You have to give extra credit for anatomical correctness.

Just Call Me Stupid

Recently a reader questioned my avoidance of political posts.  I haven't been consciously avoiding commenting on politics - it's been more of a "head in the sand" attitude lately while we've been moving, redoing our house, selling a house, and dealing with all the stresses that come with it.  But, rest assured that many of the recent goings-on in politics has my head spinning, and should have every American's head rotating rapidly, whether your preferred animal is the elephant or the donkey. 

Unless, that is, you're a Progressive, Marxist, or Socialist...all of which seem to be (most disturbingly) gaining ground as an acceptable alternative to our current system that made America great in the first place.  It no longer seems to matter what the majority of Americans want - this administration has made clear that it is going to do what IT wants, when it wants, how it wants, with or without going through the proper channels as mandated by the Constitution.  President Obama ran on a platform of transparency and holding government accountable, and thus far he's run an administration behind closed doors, has out-and-out lied, and has put in place policies hidden in "reform" that allows government agencies to operate without accountability.  Many more of these policies, and we can officially kiss the idea of "Freedom" and determining our own destinies goodbye.

So many issues today just defy common sense.

The latest thing I just simply can't understand is all the hoopla and angst over the Arizona immigration law.  Call me stupid, but I just can't wrap my mind around why there are thousands marching to protest Arizona's attempt to hold the Federal government accountable for the law they're supposed to be upholding, but refuse. 

I'm not heartless, as liberals like to call conservatives.  I understand why people want to come to this country, and if I were on the Mexico side with a starving family to feed and work across the border, you bet I'd be risking my life to get to the other side.  And, I believe they should be able to legally immigrate.  Our immigration system definitely needs an overhaul - an overhaul where everyone wins.  Immigrants should be able to come and work if they so desire, but we should know who they are.  They should pay taxes, have a social security number, and everything that comes with being a U.S. citizen if immigrants expect to have the rights of a citizen, period.

But, what we have on the border is a hostile takeover - not just innocent families trying to make their way to a better life, but drug cartels, gangsters, and human traffickers, even snipers, all heavily armed, literally reclaiming American territory for Mexico.  Again, call me stupid, but shouldn't we be defending our territory?  Why is this concept so hard? 

Other questions I have - would anyone else reasonably expect to immigrate to another country and not be expected to go through certain channels, show documentation, and answer to authorities?  I would not in my wildest dreams travel to Australia, refuse to show documentation, and then not expect to be thrown in jail.  I would surely not expect to be given free healthcare and other benefits.  In other words - I would not in my wildest dreams expect to "fly under the radar" without repercussions in any other country.  Why is this expected of the United States?  How is this fair to those immigrants who DO go through the proper channels?

When you get pulled over by the police for just cause, do you show your driver's license?  That's proper documentation - why are illegals not required the same as legal citizens?  As it is now, illegal immigrants in the United States are afforded more rights and services than legal citizens.  Why is this even a debate?

If anyone has an answer - without crying "racist!" and "bigot!" - please let me know.

My New Running Shoes

Any long-term readers may remember my former quest to start running (again) and to get in shape.  That, of course, fell by the wayside....what with preparing to move, looking for a new house, actually moving, persistent back problems, and all the other stuff that's made my life into The Crazy Roller-Coaster of Stress ride over the past year.  Sounded like a good enough excuse, until I realized it was just that - an excuse.  So, here I go...again...with the running.

My biggest problem is that I HATE running.  HATE it.  I know there are other things to do to get into shape, but running is the quickest, and you don't need a bunch of equipment, or a pool, etc.  (I do wish I had access to a pool - I love swimming workouts).  Mountain Biking is a great cardio workout, but I do need a new bike, and a new bike (well, the one I want) is temporarily financially out of reach.  For running all you really need is just some shoes and a bit of motivation.

My brother and sister-in-law are bona-fide runners, and have been trying to inspire me to pound the pavement once again.  Recently they've approached running in a new/old way - barefoot.  Minimalist running has been in vogue for a long time, but seems to be getting a bigger following as of late, and after reading up on it I decided maybe that approach was worth a try.  I mean, it does make some sense.  Running shoes keep getting "better" and more complicated to reduce all kinds of pain running causes, which seems kind of silly when you consider we were already born with all we needed for running and walking - our bare feet.  For example - running shoes have all kinds of heel padding to minimize the shock of hard heel striking - when barefoot running eliminates the heel strike altogether.  The general consensus seems that during all of human history human feet were just fine, and in just the past 200 years or so we've really started messing them up, even changing their shape with shoes, which works against the way our feet were designed to function.

For me the biggest draw is the promise of "no shin splints", which have been the bane of my running attempts my entire life.  So, all scientific evidence and hoopla aside - if I can escape shin splints, I'm sold.

My brother and his wife don't actually run with bare feet, for obvious reasons - sharp rocks, glass, gum, bugs, dog poop, roadkill, and all the other stuff you may find on the road or trail.  Instead, they use slip-on footie shoes called Vibram FiveFingers.  (I still haven't gotten a good answer as to why they're not called "FiveToes.")  There are numerous minimalist shoes currently on the market, but the FiveFingers are supposed to be the closest thing to barefoot other than actual bare feet.  The individual toe slots - a feature unique to the FiveFinger - train your toes to spread apart, adding balance, stability, and strength.

First, when I strapped these puppies on, I thought, "No Way.  Not going to work."  Not only did they look stupid, I usually hate the feeling of things between my toes.  But, after a few minutes they started to feel pretty good.  After walking around for about ten minutes, they felt DARN good.  They felt freeing...I got the strong urge to flit and skip around the store with my arms in the air.  Instead I calmly walked to the register, handed over my debit card and purchased these:

I can sum up my first run in one word:  OUCH!!!  Holy Moly!  While it felt great running with just my toe-shoe footies on, the different foot-strike I naturally used caused me to heavily use muscles that have been lazy.  My calves in particular screamed for mercy.  It's essential to ease into minimalist running, especially when you consider most people have lived a majority of their lifetimes in shoes.  This really works for me, since I've been away from running so long I have to ease in, shoes or not.  So far I've been at it for a week, alternating running/walking short distances.  Even if I'm on a running workout off day, I still try to put on the FiveFingers to at least walk around the house.  Despite their idiotic looks, I'm liking the results.

If anyone else has tried this approach to running, I'd like to hear your two cents.

For a good article about the science behind minimalist running, click this:  LINK

Wussing Out

Today is officially day #2 of having no air conditioning.

I'm usually pretty tolerant of hot summers.  We're in the south.  Every summer is hot, some hotter than others, and I try to take them in stride and refuse to incessantly complain about the heat as some do.  The Minnesota/N. Illinois/Wisconsin immigrants that are so prevalent around Mountain Home complained about the weather loudly from May until October to anyone in earshot.  It was always hard not to respond with a suggestion to go jump in the lake.

Now, if I had a lake, I'd definitely be jumping in.  This summer is getting to me.  I'm not sure if it's the sustained heat with no breaks and very little rain, stress, or a combination, but I'm wussing out.  And, it's worse in a trailer - something like sitting in a metal breadbox in the middle of the Mojave.  I don't know how old-timers did it, but they were tougher than me!

Now, excuse me while I go put my head in the freezer.

Surrounded by Apaches

I think I'm sufficiently recovered from my the bash to my writing ego, so here goes:

Last week we took a short break from the never-ending grind of home improvement, and headed for south Alabama to attend my brother's graduation from Apache helicopter flight school.

As if it weren't cool enough to be a combat-decorated green beret, my brother had to go and start flying the coolest of the cool in fighter helicopters - the Apache.  With the other brother currently navigating a B-52 and fixing to go on to cooler things himself, my feelings of being the underachieving boob of a sibling have been greatly magnified.  I'm also green with envy - Fort Rucker's skies are an aeriel traffic jam of awesomeness in the form of all kinds of helicopters, and my brain was constantly occupied with trying to imagine how thrilling it would be to be able to at least ride in one, let alone PILOT one.  It's still hard to believe that the brother who was once the bane of my existence, who's favorite prank was to rub my toothbrush in soap, and who has the greatest count of stitches given to siblings (we all caused each other to get stitches, but Trent's count is highest), is so accomplished in the impossibly-hard, and is just generally a certified badass.  Yeah, despite my jealousy and feelings of inadequacy, I'm still very much a pretty proud big sis of both of the brothers.

Here are a few pics from graduation:

Hannah pinning on Trent's wings:

The Fam

As I mentioned, the skies at Fort Rucker were full of copters, and I never got tired of watching.  Even after the last few months of living on our own military post crawling with constantly active Blackhawks, I'm still fascinated enough to run outside like a kid to watch them fly over the house.  Perhaps I missed a calling.  Despite my fascination with helicopters, I did get very tired  of the Apaches buzzing our lakeside cabin at night every few minutes, low enough and loud enough to rattle the windows, cause items to vibrate off the nightstand, and to rocket you from sleep with the first instinct to dive for cover.  How my folks slept through that is a mystery to both me and Marden, but after two nights we were weary.  We later invaded Trent and Hannah's house for the remainder of our stay, where we were out of the flight path and the copters were merely a distant rumble.

Crappy Writing

I'm still reeling a bit from my writing analysis which compared me to Stephanie Meyer.  I know it's just a simple Internet analysis, and I don't have any illusions about being a great writer, but still.  And it's not that she's just AWFUL...while her writing kind of annoyed me, and some of her characters REALLY annoyed me, she could tell a good story and keep me interested enough to read all four Twilight books and see the movies.  If it's a good story, I can forgive some pretty bad writing.  I've read much worse from other authors making millions.  I just don't want to annoy people.  I also don't want to populate the world with any more crappy writing.

True, Stephanie Meyer is laughing all the way to the bank, despite her critics, but I tend to be a romantic idealist.  This might be different if I were pursuing a living as a writer, but I think I'd rather be critically acclaimed and broke rather than told over and over that my writing stinks, even if I made money off that stinky writing.  This is weird, because I'm the complete opposite with artwork.  I spent my college years being told by the majority of my snooty art instructors that my artwork was "baseless", "irrelevant", "boring couch art", and on one occasion told by my Advanced Figure Drawing instructor - in front of the whole class AND the nude model no less - "Just because you can draw better than anyone in this class doesn't mean you're an artist."  I kept my grade in mind and my mouth shut, but I wanted to ask if the person who'd just had a show in the student gallery could be called an "artist" because she built two columns, glued pieces of broken mirror to them, then sprinkled dead leaves around on the floor and called it "art."  With artwork, critique from the "experts" doesn't matter a lick to me, as long as I'm satisfied with my own work and the Average Joe or Jill likes it.  Maybe it all boils down to confidence.

I was joking about not blogging anymore - I'll still blog because I enjoy it.  But please, PLEASE someone tell me if, like Stephanie Meyer, I start using too many ridiculous metaphors, create an extremely annoying character, or begin to rave about handsome sparkly vampires with piercing amber eyes and snow-white marble skin, frosty as the arctic winter breeze...

I Write Like...Crap, Evidently

Having taken the "who do I write like" test posted on Stephanie's "Pointed Meanderings" blog, my bubble is totally burst.  I don't know whether to laugh or sob uncontrollably.  It may just be the end of this blog.

My results were Stephanie Meyer.

*sigh*

My New Mechanic

Amos will do a pretty good brake job for Friskies.

Tomato Jerks

Wasn't it just last week that we were griping about the bitter cold and unusual amount of snow?  It seems summer has brutally descended on us like a big, wet, wool blanket.  It occurred to me how ridiculous the temperatures have been when I looked at the long-range forecast and realized I was viewing temps in the lower 90's by the end of the week as "relief."

If the trend continues, we may be in for a long miserable summer.  I'm already missing being in close proximity to the lake.

Luckily my tomato plants don't seem to mind the excessive heat.  I was excited to see - despite some adversity in the form of an aggressive tomato hornworm invasion - a ripe tomato.  You might notice the lack of leaves on this Arkansas Traveler plant - a result of a nighttime munchdown from those voracious little green jerks.  They met their maker upon discovery the next morning.  At first I was squishing them (with a tiny bit of remorse - the moths they turn into are pretty cool), but then I decided to try chucking them out in the yard to the side of the house.  The fat caterpillars have enough mass to make a pretty long flight - right into the path of a mockingbird who just happens to have a nest in the vicinity.

All my tomato plants on the deck suffered significant damage, but this particular plant seems to have gotten the worst of it.  My two plants on the front porch remain untouched.  From what I've read and heard first-hand from other gardeners, hand-picking the worms off the plants is the most effective method of control.  The problem with that method is having to remain extra vigilant, and if you have to leave your plants for a day or two, just a couple of missed or newly-hatched worms can totally strip a plant of leaves and stems as well as tomatoes.  But, I seem to have caught them all for the moment, and the stricken plants are already putting on new leaves.

Tomato growers, be on the lookout:

House and Mouse Wars

Aaaaaaand....I'm back once again.  Despite any reports to the contrary, I am still alive, and despite my best efforts still somewhat sane.

So much blog fodder has floated by lately, but I've not gotten a whole lot of computer time or a whole lot of motivation to devote to the task.  I'm still mostly stuck in my own little personal bubble of battling this house, slowly plodding toward the big finish.  Marden has FINALLY finished the year+ long military class that's been keeping him so busy and driving me out of my mind, and now we're at last getting some good chunks of time together - a phenomenon which has happened way too little over the past year.  It's too bad it has to be spent on this house.  But, we'd be a whole lot farther from the finish if it weren't for the help of my parents - who are still coming to my rescue, despite the huge eye rolls and sighs from my brothers.

Mom spent last week here helping me while Marden was in New Jersey at the Army's beck and call, and we made some awesome headway - I painted two rooms and laid flooring with wild abandon while Mom cleaned, organized, put-away, and did an excellent job of painting doors and trim.  Not to mention she fixed all our meals - it's a great help when you don't have to stop what you're doing to make a salad or sandwich.  We're now down to finishing the flooring in the main part of the house, changing out the sliding patio door, laying vinyl floor and installing a new vanity in the small bathroom, and installing trim throughout the house.  Ok...when put that way, we still have a LOT to do....but it's still on the downhill side of what we've done.

One thing I discovered during Mom's stay - a mouse in the house can instantly turn two adult, self-sufficient, strong women into screaming little girls.  One night right after we went to our beds, exhausted from a long day, we both got up to investigate a big ruckus coming from one of the un-floored rooms.  Puck had cornered a mouse, but he didn't quite know what to do with it.  We didn't know what to do either, so Mom yelled, "Puck has a mouse!", and I yelled, "EW!"

Anyone should be able to tell pretty quick that I'm very much a critter-person.  I love animals, and have always had and likely will always have a menagerie of pets.  I don't get wigged out at bugs in the house (except roaches), and on several occasions I've gently removed spiders to the outdoors for my husband.  If it's not a brown recluse, it gets a free pass.  (Sorry brown recluses - you get a squish).  It used to greatly disturb hubby that I let those little black jumping spiders live in the house with us, but he's gotten used to my spider-tolerating  antics.  HOWEVER - I draw a big fat line at roaches and mice.  If I'm outdoors, a mouse can be my friend.  Indoors - it's war. 

Back to the mouse - Puck was alternating between catching the mouse and letting it go, while Mom and I danced around, following the battle in our pajamas and making noises like, "OH!" and "EEK!" and "GAH!"  During one of it's escape attempts, it ran into my bedroom and Mom saw fit to yell, "HAHA!  It's in YOUR bedroom now!", while I yelled, "NOOOOOO!" The mouse must've heard, because it immediately did a one-eighty for Mom's room, and I yelled, "HA!  Now it's in YOUR bedroom!"  Mom wasn't so smug then.  The mouse/Puck conflagration made it's way all over the house, pausing now and then for both combatants to rest, while Mom and I had short, frantic discussions on what to do, both of us being barefoot and unarmed.  It's difficult to keep an eye on a darting mouse while looking for a weapon, though at one point I did don a pair of flipflops and attempt what Mom could only describe as to Riverdance on the mouse.  The battle finally ended up as a cat-mouse standoff in a bedroom closet.  I could see Puck losing interest, and the mouse was terrified, looking to bolt, so I ended the chase with a whack from a piece of hastily grabbed laminate floor.  Anyone wanting to scream "animal abuse!" has never had a mouse skitter across their bare toes.  I suppose I'm a hypocrite for all of my "thou shalt not kill snakes" preaching while displaying extreme intolerance for mice, but I've never had a snake get in my cabinets, chew through stuff, sample my food, and leave little "presents" laying around.  To my knowledge there have never been mass snake infestations laying waste to crops and spreading diseases.  In fact, snakes are extremely important for keeping rodent populations in check.  And snakes can be pretty and don't have fleas.  So there.

Speaking of snakes - I offered the poor deceased to our pet corn snake, Orville, but he turned up his nose.  I guess when you're used to being served freshly thawed, sterile, white mice from the pet store, a freshly-killed wild brown mouse is below your standards.  I wonder if they're lower in cholesterol?  Orville evidently is not interested in health food.

Anyway - the house now seems a mouse-free zone, though I've set a few traps in cabinets just to be sure.  The former residents lived in such squalor we're probably lucky to have only seen one so far.  The adventures just never end.

Garden Update

Even though this year's garden dreams were utterly dashed by all of the house redoing, never ending packing, and epic moving, I did manage to plant a few of my heirloom tomato seeds.  To my great surprise they all sprouted, and (after thinning and culling) for the first time ever I was able to keep them all alive.  Most of the fragile baby plants survived the move and "hardening off" process, and I now have nine big strong heirloom plants grown from seed and planted in tubs.  (If you can't tell I'm quite proud of myself). 

I planted two Arkansas Traveler, Mule Team, Cherokee Purple, Mammoth Gold, and one Moonglow.  I'd have planted more but I ran out of containers and dirt - and believe me, dirt is hard to come by around here.

The most exciting thing is - I HAVE GREEN TOMATOES!!!  The rest have blooms, but no 'maters just yet.  Still, to have good-sized green tomatoes by June 1st is the best tomato luck I've ever had.

In other garden news, it took me hours and hours and buckets of sweat to re-plant my gooseberry bushes.  First, finding a halfway diggable, all-day sunny spot really narrowed down the options.  Second, "diggable" is saying way too much for this ground we now live on.  It took a pick, mega elbow-grease, and more patience than I thought I had to dig holes through rocks the size of my head.  Anything else I plant is going in a raised bed - this time not because I want to, but because without owning a backhoe it's going to be the only option.

Check out the ridiculousness of the rocks:

If You Give A Girl A Paintbrush...

Nearly everyone has to be familiar with the kid's book, "If You Give A Mouse A Cookie", the ingenious story where if you give the mouse a cookie he'll likely want a glass of milk to go with it, which progresses to the mouse cleaning the whole house (where can I get a mouse like that?).

I recently had a day like this, right in the middle of our EPIC MOVE.  Our realtor, who I must say has bolstered my spirits by being insanely upbeat and optimistic about being able to sell our house without losing our pants, did ask that I repaint our front door.  I admit that the door needed painting - BADLY.  It's been on my to-do list for two years now.  It wasn't a good paint job to begin with - the former owners of our house were inexcusably sloppy painters - but what really made it bad was that we'd changed out door handles and locks.  They are a completely different shape than the old ones that the former owners just painted around rather than removing.

So, while Mom continued to cram stuff into boxes, I sanded down and painted the front door, as well as the side window panels.  It looked so good that I decided to also paint the inside of the door with some leftover paint I'd found in a closet.  Then I decided to touch-up the white railings to the porches, which made the badly stained porches look all that much worse.  A trip to Sherwin-Williams had me supplied with deck stain.  A a whole day later I had all three porches spiffed up.

I must admit, it now looks darn good - everything is new, crisp, and clean.

In the process, I also discovered a new item to add to my "Best Things Ever" list:  Frogtape.  I'm not usually one for painting gimmicks that promise straight lines and "easy application", but for some reason I decided to give Frogtape a try.  Everyone who has panted anything and tried the blue tape knows it doesn't work...this stuff does.  It's kind of high-dollar, but worth every penny!

Tomorrow is the EPIC MOVE.  Anyone travelling along Hwy 65 beware.

Memorial Day is coming up - of course the first offical start to summer!  For my family it means *drumroll* gooseberries are ripe!  I know...nobody knows what a gooseberry is.  THESE are gooseberries (watch out for the stickers):

I had to jump the gun a few days on mine this year and pick them before Memorial Day so I could yank them out of the ground for transport.  Did you think I'd leave them???  Not a chance.  My scrawny bushes actually produced enough for a pie and a half this year (this was only halfway through picking):

They make a deliciously tart pie, and eaten fresh out of the oven covered in a good layer of half and half is pure perfection.  The only thing better is to mix half the gooseberries with blueberries and make a "blue goose" pie.  Also with half and half....nom nom nom...

Take THAT, Move

I've been in Mountain Home for the past few days packing up more stuff.  With no pets, no television, and sparse furnishings, it's not been the most fun times ever.  At least I have sympathy...a local radio DJ was talking about his own move, and how he and his wife are trying to improve the house they're moving into, thus drawing out the move into a long arduous process akin to "Japanese Water Torture."  If my cell phone worked worth a darn here, I'd have called to share pity parties.

But, we have decided we can no longer stand the torture and we must change tactics.  We're going to smack this move in the face with a roundhouse Chuck Norris kick by renting a U-Haul, and hiring some burly movers to move our approximately 5 bajillion ton safe and equally heavy Temperpedic bed - which is something like trying to wrestle with a massive jello jiggler.  We need to get our *$#! down the road and into storage until our new house is done so we can sell this house and absorb the financial kick in the pants with what dignity we can before the selling season passes us by. 

I can't wait for our beach vacation!  Looks like I'm going to have to settle for a shoebox of sand and a wading pool.  *sigh*  Did I just whine again?  Sorry.

Just to prove we are making progress, here's the floor in the bedroom/hobby room.  We were very proud to get the closet done: