Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Sunday, March 16, 2008
the rest of the story
y ajust to let u kno that was just the start of the story that just an annoyance compared to the rest of the week after that. So that marine who didnt show up on sunday showed up early in the morning but he looked like utter garbage so my sgts were even more angry wit him so they tell him at chow go fix it so guess wut he does at chow??? UA. he just straight up leaves gone flew the coop disapears vanished. so that makes all my sgts happy but they have to punish someone for that im still sore from that pt is all i really have to say oorah recon card.... o and to top it ALL off the colonel of the base decided he wanted to walk thru the rooms and guess whose rooms were dirty? ya someone from my class. just awesome. all in one day three pfcs pissed off a colonel a major a captain a first sgt a master sgt 3 sgts and a whole class of other pfcs how awesome. so then on tuesday while everyone was still happy and sore me and another marine decided who cares ima fail the soldering test. well thers something i forgot to say about the other marine he didnt have name tapes on his camies so he was basically an escaped recruit walking around. so when we went into master sgts office to tell him why we failed guess wut was the first thing he noticed??? ya u guessed it so instead of getting an um good ole chew out i spent about 20 min trying to laugh as master sgt chewed him out idk how i did it either hes a funny guy wen hes pissed. so he decides that hey if is camis r jacked up lemm look at ur classes charlies... so we have a charlies inspection the next day but not bfore a class ip study group till 11 at nite... so the next day master sgt inspects us and that marine is somehow jacked up so guess wut hey if those r jacked up he wanted to see all our bravos... so the next day he looks at our bravos and again ther somehow jacked up... so now on he wants to see alphas just awesome half the classed passed that one so he said ok fine ill inspect ur stupid rooms and ur lockers... im so glad i passed but anyways he went thru rooms and stuff with my sgts following him. so ya my sgts were happy all week o and on grad day my sgt comes up to me and tells me hey ur picking up class today they changed ur mos from a 2847 to 2846 so instead of waiting a month to pick up a class i pick up on the same day with my favorite sgt best week of my life so far
Monday, March 10, 2008
testing
hey ppls if any one reads this its finally me whose writing this feels weird but ya anyways um hi ive been having an awesome and exciting time in school wut with getting dropped and having to start almost all over again but yaive been having a great week it all started wit thursdays field inspection my sgt who by the way is like totally the coolest person in the world well not really mostly the opposite but ya he went thru the rooms being totally the biggest jerk he could and the next day when he went through HE even said he was being a jerk so idk y he didnt do something about it so ya practically everyone failed his awesome inspection so i spent almost all of friday nite cleaning until he was happy then he said have a good weekend and i didnt see him till sunday wen everything went from bad to like bad bad we had a uniform inspection and one marine did not make it on time in fact he didnt even show he called about half way through it saying a pmo was talking to him and thats y he didnt show then my sgt got happy or angry idk i cant tell they look the same but then he said that since he didnt get inspected tonite he was goin to get inspected at 4 the next day wow awesome so the next day it went from bad bad to like totally blown out of this dimension
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Sunday, January 27, 2008
a story
WIFE'S REQUEST
>
> I was sitting alone in one of those loud, casual
> steak houses that you find
> all over the country. You know the type--a bucket of
> peanuts on every table,
> shells littering the floor, and a bunch of perky
> college kids racing around
> with long neck beers and sizzling platters.
>
> Taking a sip of my iced tea, I studied the crowd
> over the rim of my glass.
> My gaze lingered on a group enjoying their meal.
> They wore no uniform to
> identify their branch of service, but they were
> definitely "military:" clean
> shaven, cropped haircut, and that "squared away"
> look that comes with pride.
Smiling sadly, I glanced across my table to the
empty seat where my husband
usually sat. It had only been a few months since we
sat in this very booth,
talking about his upcoming deployment to the Middle
East . That was when he
made me promise to get a sitter for the kids, come
back to this restaurant
once a month and treat myself to a nice steak. In
turn he would treasure the
thought of me being here, thinking about him until
he returned home.
I fingered the little flag pin I constantly wear and
wondered where he was
at this very moment. Was he safe and warm? Was his
cold any better? Were my
letters getting through to him?
As I pondered these thoughts, high pitched female
voices from the next booth
broke into my thoughts. "I don't know what Bush is
thinking about. Invading
Iraq . You'd think that man would learn from his old
man's mistakes. Good
Lord. What an idiot! I can't believe he is even in
office. You do know, he
stole the election."
I cut into my steak and tried to ignore them as
they began an endless
tirade running down our president.
I thought about the last night I spent with my
husband, as he prepared to
deploy. He had just returned from getting his
smallpox and anthrax shots.
The image of him standing in our kitchen packing his
gas mask still gives me
chills.
Once again the women's voices invaded my thoughts.
"It's all about oil, you know. Our soldiers will go
in and rape and steal
all the oil they can in the name of 'freedom'. Hmmm!
I wonder how many
innocent people they'll kill without giving it a
thought. It's pure greed,
you know."
My chest tightened as I stared at my wedding ring. I
could still see how
handsome my husband looked in his "mess dress" the
day he slipped it on my
finger I wondered what he was wearing now. Probably
his desert uniform,
affectionately dubbed "coffee stains" with a heavy
bulletproof vest over it.
"You know, we should just leave Iraq alone. I don't
think they are hiding
any weapons. In fact, I bet it's all a big act just
to increase the
president's popularity. That's all it is, padding
the military budget at the
expense of our social security and education. And,
you know what else? We're
just asking for another 9-11. I can't say when it
happens again that we
didn't deserve it."
Their words brought to mind the war protesters I had
watched gathering
outside our base. Did no one even appreciate the
sacrifice of brave men and
women, who leave their homes and family to ensure
our freedom? Do they even
know what "freedom" is?
I glanced at the table where the young men were
sitting, and saw their
courageous faces change. They had stopped eating and
looked at each other
dejectedly, listening to the women talking.
"Well, I, for one, think it's just deplorable to
invade Iraq , and I am
certainly sick of our tax dollars going to train
professional baby-killers
we call a military."
Professional baby-killers. I thought about what a
wonderful father my
husband is, and of how long it would be before he
would see our children
again.
That's it! Indignation rose up inside me. Normall> reserved, pride in my
husband gave me a brassy boldness I never realized I
had. Tonight one voice
will answer on behalf of our military, and let her
pride in our troops be
known.
Sliding out of my booth, I walked around to the
adjoining booth and placed
my hands flat on their table. Lowering myself to eye
level with them,
smiling I said, "I couldn't help overhearing your
conversation. You see, I'm
sitting here trying to enjoy my dinner alone. And,
do you know why? Because
my husband, whom I love with all my heart, is
halfway around the world
defending your right to say rotten things about
him."
"Yes, you have the right to your opinion, and what
you think is none of my
business. However, what you say in public is
something else, and I will not
sit by and listen to you ridicule MY country, MY
president, MY husband, and
all the other fine American men and women who put
their lives on the line,
just so you can have the "freedom" to complain.> Freedom is an expensive
commodity, ladies. Don't let your actions cheapen
it."
I must have been louder than I meant to be, because
the manager came over to
inquire if everything was all right
"Yes, thank you," I replied.
Then, turning back to the women, I said, "Enjoy the
rest of your meal."
> As I returned to my booth applause broke out. I was
embarrassed for making a
scene, and went back to my half eaten steak. The
women picked up their check
and scurried away. After finishing my meal, and
while waiting for my check,
the manager returned with a huge apple cobbler ala
mode. "Compliments of
those soldiers," he said. He also smiled and said
the ladies tried to pay
for my dinner, but that another couple had beaten
them to it.
When I asked who, the manager said they had already
left, but that the
gentleman was a veteran, and wanted to take care of
the wife of "one of our
boys."
With a lump in my throat, I gratefully turned to the
soldiers and thanked
them for the cobbler. Grinning from ear to ear, they
came over and
surrounded the booth.
"We just wanted to thank you, ma'am. You know we
can't get into
confrontations with civilians, so we appreciate what
you did."
As I drove home, for the first time since my
husband's deployment, I didn't
feel quite so alone. My heart was filled with the
warmth of the other diners
who stopped by my table, to relate how they, too,
were proud of my husband,
and would keep him in their prayers.
I knew their flags would fly a little higher the
next day. Perhaps they
would look for more tangible ways to show their
pride in our country, and
the military that protect her. And maybe, just
maybe, the two women who were
railing against our country would pause for a minute
to appreciate all the
freedom America offers, and the price it pays to
maintain its freedom.
As for me, I have learned that one voice CAN make a
difference.
Maybe the next time protesters gather outside the
gates of the base where I
live, I will proudly stand on the opposite side with
a sign of my own. It
will simply say, "Thank You!"
To those who fought for our nation, freedom has a
flavor the protected will
never know.
GOD BLESS AMERICA !
Please pray for God's protection of our troops and
HIS wisdom for their
commanders. Pass this on to as many as you think
will respond.
"Lord, hold our troops in your loving hands. Protect
them as they protect
us. Bless them and their families for the selfless
acts they perform for us
in our time of need. I ask this in the name of
Jesus, our Lord and Savior."
>
> I was sitting alone in one of those loud, casual
> steak houses that you find
> all over the country. You know the type--a bucket of
> peanuts on every table,
> shells littering the floor, and a bunch of perky
> college kids racing around
> with long neck beers and sizzling platters.
>
> Taking a sip of my iced tea, I studied the crowd
> over the rim of my glass.
> My gaze lingered on a group enjoying their meal.
> They wore no uniform to
> identify their branch of service, but they were
> definitely "military:" clean
> shaven, cropped haircut, and that "squared away"
> look that comes with pride.
Smiling sadly, I glanced across my table to the
empty seat where my husband
usually sat. It had only been a few months since we
sat in this very booth,
talking about his upcoming deployment to the Middle
East . That was when he
made me promise to get a sitter for the kids, come
back to this restaurant
once a month and treat myself to a nice steak. In
turn he would treasure the
thought of me being here, thinking about him until
he returned home.
I fingered the little flag pin I constantly wear and
wondered where he was
at this very moment. Was he safe and warm? Was his
cold any better? Were my
letters getting through to him?
As I pondered these thoughts, high pitched female
voices from the next booth
broke into my thoughts. "I don't know what Bush is
thinking about. Invading
Iraq . You'd think that man would learn from his old
man's mistakes. Good
Lord. What an idiot! I can't believe he is even in
office. You do know, he
stole the election."
I cut into my steak and tried to ignore them as
they began an endless
tirade running down our president.
I thought about the last night I spent with my
husband, as he prepared to
deploy. He had just returned from getting his
smallpox and anthrax shots.
The image of him standing in our kitchen packing his
gas mask still gives me
chills.
Once again the women's voices invaded my thoughts.
"It's all about oil, you know. Our soldiers will go
in and rape and steal
all the oil they can in the name of 'freedom'. Hmmm!
I wonder how many
innocent people they'll kill without giving it a
thought. It's pure greed,
you know."
My chest tightened as I stared at my wedding ring. I
could still see how
handsome my husband looked in his "mess dress" the
day he slipped it on my
finger I wondered what he was wearing now. Probably
his desert uniform,
affectionately dubbed "coffee stains" with a heavy
bulletproof vest over it.
"You know, we should just leave Iraq alone. I don't
think they are hiding
any weapons. In fact, I bet it's all a big act just
to increase the
president's popularity. That's all it is, padding
the military budget at the
expense of our social security and education. And,
you know what else? We're
just asking for another 9-11. I can't say when it
happens again that we
didn't deserve it."
Their words brought to mind the war protesters I had
watched gathering
outside our base. Did no one even appreciate the
sacrifice of brave men and
women, who leave their homes and family to ensure
our freedom? Do they even
know what "freedom" is?
I glanced at the table where the young men were
sitting, and saw their
courageous faces change. They had stopped eating and
looked at each other
dejectedly, listening to the women talking.
"Well, I, for one, think it's just deplorable to
invade Iraq , and I am
certainly sick of our tax dollars going to train
professional baby-killers
we call a military."
Professional baby-killers. I thought about what a
wonderful father my
husband is, and of how long it would be before he
would see our children
again.
That's it! Indignation rose up inside me. Normall> reserved, pride in my
husband gave me a brassy boldness I never realized I
had. Tonight one voice
will answer on behalf of our military, and let her
pride in our troops be
known.
Sliding out of my booth, I walked around to the
adjoining booth and placed
my hands flat on their table. Lowering myself to eye
level with them,
smiling I said, "I couldn't help overhearing your
conversation. You see, I'm
sitting here trying to enjoy my dinner alone. And,
do you know why? Because
my husband, whom I love with all my heart, is
halfway around the world
defending your right to say rotten things about
him."
"Yes, you have the right to your opinion, and what
you think is none of my
business. However, what you say in public is
something else, and I will not
sit by and listen to you ridicule MY country, MY
president, MY husband, and
all the other fine American men and women who put
their lives on the line,
just so you can have the "freedom" to complain.> Freedom is an expensive
commodity, ladies. Don't let your actions cheapen
it."
I must have been louder than I meant to be, because
the manager came over to
inquire if everything was all right
"Yes, thank you," I replied.
Then, turning back to the women, I said, "Enjoy the
rest of your meal."
> As I returned to my booth applause broke out. I was
embarrassed for making a
scene, and went back to my half eaten steak. The
women picked up their check
and scurried away. After finishing my meal, and
while waiting for my check,
the manager returned with a huge apple cobbler ala
mode. "Compliments of
those soldiers," he said. He also smiled and said
the ladies tried to pay
for my dinner, but that another couple had beaten
them to it.
When I asked who, the manager said they had already
left, but that the
gentleman was a veteran, and wanted to take care of
the wife of "one of our
boys."
With a lump in my throat, I gratefully turned to the
soldiers and thanked
them for the cobbler. Grinning from ear to ear, they
came over and
surrounded the booth.
"We just wanted to thank you, ma'am. You know we
can't get into
confrontations with civilians, so we appreciate what
you did."
As I drove home, for the first time since my
husband's deployment, I didn't
feel quite so alone. My heart was filled with the
warmth of the other diners
who stopped by my table, to relate how they, too,
were proud of my husband,
and would keep him in their prayers.
I knew their flags would fly a little higher the
next day. Perhaps they
would look for more tangible ways to show their
pride in our country, and
the military that protect her. And maybe, just
maybe, the two women who were
railing against our country would pause for a minute
to appreciate all the
freedom America offers, and the price it pays to
maintain its freedom.
As for me, I have learned that one voice CAN make a
difference.
Maybe the next time protesters gather outside the
gates of the base where I
live, I will proudly stand on the opposite side with
a sign of my own. It
will simply say, "Thank You!"
To those who fought for our nation, freedom has a
flavor the protected will
never know.
GOD BLESS AMERICA !
Please pray for God's protection of our troops and
HIS wisdom for their
commanders. Pass this on to as many as you think
will respond.
"Lord, hold our troops in your loving hands. Protect
them as they protect
us. Bless them and their families for the selfless
acts they perform for us
in our time of need. I ask this in the name of
Jesus, our Lord and Savior."
Monday, January 21, 2008
What's new
This is what we know...Bryant has completed 2 weeks of school. He is finding it very hard. School, learning, paying attention has never been easy for him. He has homework and PT as well. He has changed rooms so he has new roommates with one of them getting married soon. Bryant has put pics on his facebook page and even a small video..
He is hoping to have a friend that he might get a ride home this weekend. He wants us to help him buy a car! We will see!!
Until next time....