Momentary Rant: My Pet Peeve

O.k. I'm not really one to get on a soapbox and rant, but sometimes there is something that sticks in my head and I can't shake it. There's not much that I let get to me, but the more I hear this the more it gets to me ... Maybe I should start at the beginning.

Sometimes you will meet people in the military who are "old school" they believe that enlist should stay with enlisted and officers interact with officers. I have, on a few occasions, be told that I should have more officers spouses as friends, but since I work with Soldiers and Families I tend to find friends in those I have common interests with ... go figure, what an archaic system!

That still doesn't get to me as much as when people comment on me being able to pay for stuff because my husband is an officer ... whether it's a meal, something for the house, a "me" gift, or my masters. Even friends have said it to me ... jokingly of course, but it still gets to me.

I don't know why it gets to me, maybe it's because I have worked all of my life to get where I am and to have the things I have and people disregard it with the assumption that I am merely a spoiled officer's wife.

I work too ... I have worked fulltime, during deployment lived on my paycheck and putting his in the bank, and managed my money to the penny, saving what I could for my future. I started putting money away for my retirement at 18, I still roll my extra change.



I have be raised to be consciencious of the decisions I make, always thinking of the future. If I offer to pay for lunch, it is not because I am in some way trying to flaunt my husband's rank or how much money I have in my bank account.

O.k. I will step off the of the soapbox so someone else may have a chance.

Until our next cup of tea ...

trying to create new header ... not working so well

As my long time readers may know this was my previous header, a favorite because it previewed so many of my tea cups. Now I am trying to redesign my page and I want one that has teacups still, but has the more elegant look of the new look, and having pink would be a plus. Any suggestions? I don't even know where to begin ...

Until our next cup of tea ...

Does this bandage make me look fat? Part 2

I am trying hard to be a good girl and follow the doctor's orders since I want my foot to be completely healed when George comes home on R&R. Here are some pics from the past few days.

Today, I met two friends, Aris and Kat for pedicures. I'm sad that the bandages don't come in prettier colors, but this makes it a little better!



Sgt. Major has been sitting over my foot when we watch TV the last few days. He's so protective of his mommy. Of course, he thinks trying to take the bandage when I'm wrapping my foot is a new game.



Sgt. Major has decided he likes to rest his head on my foot, but doesn't it looks like he is kissing it?



Until our next cup of tea ...

Does this bandage make me look fat?

So when I woke up this morning, my left ankle was tender, though not swollen ... the pain had started a few weeks ago and had been intermitent.

Last month I had played in a three-game softball tournament and had stopped a grounder with my foot. Not a problem. I shook it off and continued to play, I meean, we were battling for the post championship!

After finishing the tourney, I iced it, wrapped it and wore flip flops for a few days it had never bruised, but remained tender when I put preassure on the side, not necessarily when I walked on it.

I hadn't played ball since. I was asked to play last night for my old team since some of them were away for work-relatd training or something. That's what led to this morning's tenderness.

At about 11 a.m. I decided to call the Family Clinic and see if I could get an appointment. They said they had an opening for 2 p.m. today.

After x-rays and inspection, it was determined that I didn't have a fracture or break, but I did injure the tendon or had a sprain, which I'd been walking on for three weeks.

So now, I have to have it wrapped for four weeks, no heels, no running (but I can still work out on the elliptical, thankfully!) and I have to take Motrin three times a day for six weeks. UGH! I was so looking forward to that panicked working out that we wives do in the few weeks before our Soldiers come home on "mid-tour leave." Sigh, I'll have to figure something out, 'cause we're going to Vegas!!!

Until our next cup of tea ...

Something about Sundays ...

I've come to love my Sundays this deployment. In facing multiple deployments and seperations, I've learned that finding moments to myself is key to keeping my sanity and peace.

My Sundays have become routine, something that is a bit of a comfort for me. It is the one day I sleep in late, snuggling with the puppy over a cup of coffee as I slowly wake up over whatever craft/home impovement shows. After a quick ... o.k. leisure ... shower, I get ready for the day and then grab my grocery list and head to Wagon Master, the local (moderate tasting) steakhouse (term used loosely!). There I grab a steak salad, well done, no bacon, with extra ranch and a sweet tea. As I read a book or finish my grocery list, I usually listen to the banter of the people around me.

Then I head next door to Wal-Mart to get what isn't at our commissary (which can be hit or miss on my list, I'm a bit picky when George is gone.)

Usually by the time I am heading home I get the customary phone call from my father-in-law asking if I'd heard from his son yet (I get calls on Saturdays.) In more cases than not, George calls in and says his dad's phone was busy, at which point we laugh that he was on the phone with me stressing about when he'd get his call. After hanging up with both, I head home to put away the groceries and play with the puppy while I wait for George to log onto the computer so we can talk a little before he heads off to bed.

After a few hours of homeowrk or craft projects, it's time for dinner. Usually, I eat alone, it's my day, but occasionally I break with tradition and invite a friend over to join me.

Then after cleaning the kitchen and playing with the puppy, I settle in with a stitching project and watch Army Wives with another cup of cappicino, then it's off to bed, to start another week of work.

It's my little piece of solitude and heave. Just enough to help me find my "reset" button.

Until our next cup of tea ...

Honor an American Hero

I’d met him four years ago, he wasn’t hard to miss … he was all business when on duty, but as soon as he was able, he was looking for some cute girl to snuggle with … his name was Bear and he was a Military Working Dog and one of my first assignments when I started working at the Fort Polk Guardian.

I may have met Ron, his handler that day, but I don’t remember. It would be a few months later, after a few more interactions with the Military Working Dogs or K-9 Section of the Military Police before I began remember encounters with him. But Bear was easy to notice and hard to forget.

I spent the next 4 years at the paper trying desperately to get permission to cover special topics regarding our MWD Section. I soon became friends with many of the handlers as I fought to tell their story. I always volunteered for those assignments.

One of my favorite memories was when Ron and Bear were set to deploy with another dog team. I remember the other team stood rigid, at attention, dog and handler demonstrating a seriousness that the discipline of Army life brings. But not Ron and Bear.

They stood there, side by side for the photo, smirks on they faces, like two best friends with a secret that no one knew but them. Like two pranksters waiting for their target to be had, their carefree attitude was contagious, outmatched only by their dedication to their job.

In the blink of an eye, I’d see these two friends, turn into a serious, deadly machine bent on completing their mission whether it was a training exercise or drug search. In interviewing Ron for articles, I’d learned just how determined these two were, despite their boyish charm. When Ron spoke of Bear, it was with love and respect. I imagine this was the same love and loyalty that brought them home safe from each deployment.

I remember when Ron’s wife Kim, whom worked with me at the Public Affairs Office, said that Bear was retiring. I was saddened that I wouldn’t get to see him in action any more but knew that he would live out his life in the love and luxury that Ron and Kim knew he deserved. And that he did. He went from leading Soldiers through deployment for 13 years to leading their family dogs and daughter into all sorts of imaginable trouble. I looked forward to the stories Kim shared when we worked together. I was sad the day I had to hug Ron, Kim and their beautiful angel goodbye as they headed to their next military assignment. I kept in touch, got pictures regularly and occasionally shared stories with others who knew them.

On Monday, Kim sent me an email, saying that this gentle giant had passed away. My heart ached for the loss they must have felt, but I chose instead to remember the laughter captured in photos in the face of their daughter as she learned to walk and became his ever present shadow. Yesterday, Kim shared her story in the Fort Campbell Courier …

In loving memory of our military working dog

Published in Fort Campbell Courier (July 10, 2008) --
By: KIM WARREN, Editor

(Photo by Kim Warren, Fort Campbell Courier)

This week the Army said goodbye to one of its finest Soldiers; my husband and I said goodbye to the single individual responsible for bringing us together.

Retired Sgt. 1st Class Bear, a U.S. Army military working dog, was laid to rest Monday at 10:49 a.m. after 14 years of life.

Bear was born into the Army in August 1994 and served honorably for 12 years.

The gentle giant was a patrol and narcotics dog. He’s been to Iraq, Afghanistan, Kuwait, Qatar, Egypt, Saudi Arabia and a number of other locations home and abroad that others wouldn’t dare go. Bear served in more countries, saw more action and met more people than most Soldiers in their entire lifetime.

He had more than 1,000 drug finds in his day and has won dozens of competitions.

After much consideration and a lengthy review board my husband was able to adopt his partner, friend and battle buddy and bring him home. He was able to give Bear the civilian life he deserved.

The only thing that distinguished him from a civilian dog was his tattoo in his left ear, a permanent mark of his service to our country.

I remember when I first met Bear. I was escorting a local news reporter to do a story on him at Fort Polk, La. He had just returned from his last deployment to Afghanistan in February 2006.

I knew the moment I met Bear he was special. He was a big, black, puffy Belgian Shepherd, which is rare for a working dog. Most people relate a German shepherd with the war dog category.

I remember how intimidating he could be during demonstrations, but I can also recall how much of a teddy bear he was when he was able to play with the kids afterwards.

I can remember how nervous I was the day my husband brought him home for good, especially with two little dogs of my own.

Then I can also remember how happy I was the day I saw him finally getting to play with other dogs. He was fond of my Australian Shepherd female. I would enjoy watching the two of them out in the front lawn having a grand ole time. I also enjoyed the fact that I didn’t have to escort him back into a pen afterwards to sleep on a cold, hard cement floor.

For his final two years Bear was able to sleep on his own bed, in our bedroom, by my husband’s side without the noise of barking dogs disturbing his slumber.

He won my heart and the hearts of many, including my dogs. He was furry, friendly and the most intelligent dog I ever met.

He taught me what dogs are really capable of doing.

Bear’s motivation and loyalty never faltered. Every time he saw my husband dig through his gear he was up and ready to go. I guess he never realized that he didn’t have to anymore. That made it all the more fun when he would sniff me down at the front door after a grocery run while my husband was deployed.

My husband was able to work with Bear for four years and then relax with him for another two.

To this day there are still people that call us to find out how Bear is doing or for those that know, to offer their condolences.

Even after retirement my husband and I were pulled over with Bear in the car just so the sheriff could say hello. He recognized Bear as we drove on down the road.

Everyone wanted to make sure we were giving him the life he deserved after retirement. I can assure you we did.

I want to thank Bear for saving my husband’s life more than once; for removing a lot of the drugs off the streets at Fort Polk; for teaching me what a man’s best friend truly is; for bringing my husband warmth in the cold hills of Afghanistan; for bringing my husband and I together and giving us a wonderful family; and for being the most loyal dog I’ve ever met.

I’m just happy my husband was home from deployment to say his goodbyes and help Bear into his next life.

We’re sure going to miss him.

Until our next cup of tea ...

True American Heroes ...

I want to take a moment to wish the Families of America’s service members a happy Fourth of July.

It is on such occasions that we reflect and remember why we do what we do every day as Americans. Certainly it is easy to question weather you have given enough when so many have given so much more. The best we can do is wake up each morning and do the best that we can to live up to the title "American".

I am very proud of the Soldiers in which I am surrounded by. However, not all great Americans are Soldiers. Some of them are in the shadows doing everything they can to take care of those serving their great nation wearing the military uniform. This especially applies to the Families who support these Soldiers.

You are the ones who wait patiently at home for months on end, knowing that while you may need your Soldier, our country needs them more. You take on the role of mother and father, stepping in to ensure that their children know how much they are loved, even if their military parent cannot be there to tell them every day. You are the one who lives with the fear, the loneliness and stress, which is outweighed by your love and understanding.

Your efforts may seem small but they mean so much to ensure the success of our mission and our Soldiers. You have been of great assistance in helping our nation’s serve members prepare for war. Your dedication and sacrifice to this country does not go unnoticed. Your continued support is an inspiration to all who see you. We have great Soldiers because of the Families who stand beside them.

I salute you and your dedication and you truly are a patriot. Have a happy Fourth of July.

Until our next cup of tea ...

Learning to Live with Fear

It was another long day at work as my unit prepares to deploy. I pulled onto the main road leading to the north housing area, anxious to get home. In front of me was a generic white passenger van, white with government plates. No big deal, they are almost as commons as Humvees on a military installation. I assumed they were headed for training at the Joint Readiness Training Center, since that was the only place government vehicles would be headed on this road.

I absently flipped through the radio stations and made a mental list of things to do as I drove home. Suddenly, my attitude changed.

Just as I head into the housing area I notice the government vehicle ahead of me making the same turns ahead of me. My mind raced as I quickly tried to think of other reasons for a government vehicle to be in the housing area, but only two things came to mind, a health and welfare check (senior NCOs checking on Families and their quarters) or notification of fallen Soldier.

"Oh, God, don't let it be someone I know," I pray as I slowly drove down the street.

Ahead of me the vehicle turned into my neighborhood section. I followed. Then onto my street. I held my breathe and turned in at my house," I think, my heart racing.

The vehicle slowed and I could see the driver and passenger gesture to each other as they looked at house numbers on the right side of the street. My head began to hurt as I pulled into my driveway on the left. I saw them slow as they entered the cul-de-sac and came back up the street.

I got out of my Tahoe and slowly pulled my bags out of the car, trying to imagine what I would do if they stopped in front of my house.

A few house down they turn into a driveway. I held my breathe as they got out. ACUs ... I let out my breathe. No chaplain ... I began to breathe easier. They pulled a basket out of the car with blue ribbon. I sighed and turned to walk up my driveway ... A new baby.

I entered the house, greeted by the puppy and let my bags fall to the floor and dropped to the sofa. After a few moments, I got up grabbed my phone, texted my closest friend Aris and went about preparing dinner and starting a load of laundry.

Another day without a visit ... Another day survived.

Until our next cup of tea ...