Day 11

 I'm going to refrain from posting stupid details about my stupid life on Remembrance Day. Not sure what to do instead. Matt's grandfather - my very favourite veteran - is gone. Can't call or email him or take him to dinner at the Legion and be horrified when he heckles the peacekeepers. I wish there were no wars, but there are wars, and I would be really bad at fighting in them, so I appreciate the people who do, however messy and power imbalanced and problematic that whole deal ends up being. 

Comments

Ernie said…
My brother in law retired after being a 'lifer' in the Marines. That was not an easy lifestyle for the family as he had a few times when he was gone on a tour for 9 mos at a time. They also lived in Japan for a few years.

Tank is interested in serving. Not sure it will happen. I would be very honorable, but as his mother I think it would make me worry constantly.
November 12, 2020 at 7:35 AM
Suz said…
I have much admiration for those who choose to serve; I certainly could not in that capacity.
November 15, 2020 at 9:05 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Clothes Make the Blog Post

Image
 Matt and I went on a date and did shots! No, wait.  Matt and I went on a date and got shots! The day of my last shot, I sat around nervously all day terrified I would miss my time slot and left an hour early. The days I was driving my parents for their shots, same. Yesterday I ran around with Eve all day trying to find some decent black shoes for her abbreviated graduation ceremony tomorrow evening because we realized she only ever wears boots or flip-flops (my kid, obviously) and other than some super-fancy shoes for prom, she had nothing. We could maybe be forgiven this lapse if this was the first time this had happened, but, um, it's not. So we went to a few stores without any luck, until we realized she didn't really know what she wanted, she just felt like maybe wearing her Docs for grad wasn't completely appropriate. To which I said, hogwash (I did, I used a quaint and un-profane epithet, you weren't there, you can't prove otherwise). I wore Docs for my weddi
Read more

Books Read in 2021: Four-Star YA Horror

Image
I am pretty well ensconced in the January doldrums. We are in a deep freeze, and after the major snow dump on Monday I never catch it snowing, and yet there are a few centimetres on the driveway by every evening. I'm happy with my decision not to take any office shifts for a few weeks - it's incredibly stressful, will only be more so now that people are pissed that we're not supposed to be reporting Covid cases, and I don't even get paid my regular library rate. But it does sort of make the days run together. I try to walk Lucy, but it's so cold she starts dancing around lifting up one paw after the other for me to warm with my mittens. We've tried paw covers but haven't found any that fit. So I walk her around the block and then bring her home and keep walking. It's been cold but not very windy, so walking is quite pleasant (I'm finally not too warm!)  I am rewatching The Golden Girls, which I don't think I ever watched all the way through befor
Read more

Mean Spirits

Image
I'm as susceptible to Christmas blues as anyone. I agree that expectations get out of hand, the stress level can be just stupid, and I often stop and wonder WHY am I doing this again? And yet, I composed a blog post in my head entitled "Bah Humbitch" upon reading a Leah McLaren column that told everyone not to send her Christmas cards, especially with stupid pictures of their children wearing Santa suits or antlers. And I left my first negative comment at a blog I generally really like today (not a 'you suck and you're stupid and I hate you' comment, just a 'this is a little unfair and I'm a little put out' comment -- I know, it must have really stung, in amongst all the comments telling her how fantastic and wise and one hundred and forty percent correct she is). And for the life of me, I can't really figure out why. photo credit creative commons license Okay, maybe I can, in the case of the Leah McLaren piece (it's called 'I'
Read more