Nowhere.

So, last night Liam asked me where he was from.

"You were born in Germany."

"I know I was born in Germany, mom. But I only lived there for two weeks. Where am I from?"

And then Amelia piped in with, "Yeah, where are we from, mom?"

Ummm....You're from nowhere.

How do military families answer this? I'd never really given it much thought. Even though we moved around a lot, I always say I'm from Maine. I was born there and lived there until I was ten. My family is all from there, and most still lived there for most of my life. Will says he's from Wyoming. He lived there almost his whole life, and his parents are still there.

But my kids? They're not from anywhere. We counted it up and all three have lived the majority of their lives so far in Maryland. So, for now they're from Maryland, I guess? But in the future, if we live someplace longer than five years, does that mean that they suddenly become from there?

It's sort of unsettling, the thought that my kids aren't from anywhere. They have no roots. No hometown.

Anyway, I told them that if someone asks where they're from, they can answer, "Everywhere."

It's less creepy than saying nowhere.

Tweenage Dream

Eat your heart out, Bieber.

I'm feeling kind of old today.

Ben turns 12 in a couple of days.

TWELVE.

He informed me that he didn't want any toys for his birthday. His list consisted of "designer clothes," a suit, and a razor.

And sadly, he actually has enough facial hair that the razor would be useful. His mustache is nearly as thick as mine.




Also? He has a date for the Spring dance at school. I mean, not a date date, but a girl from drama club asked him to go and they're meeting there and will presumably dance together a few times. You know, the awkward, arms straight out, woodenly rocking back and forth dancing. I'll be sure to take a picture so that someday when he's famous and finishing up his first rehab stint, Us Weekly can run it in an article about his very first co-star romance.

I'm not ready to have a kid in the shaving/going to dances/requiring deodorant stage of life.

Mainly because in my head, I'm still approximately only 17.

Furious George

So, I had Doritos for lunch today. Not Doritos with lunch. For lunch. That more than anything should clue you in to my state of mind right now.

In case you've been living under a rock, let me fill you in on the situation.

If a budget or temporary stop gap measure isn't passed by both the the house and the senate and signed by the president in the next 1 hour and 14 minutes, the military stops getting paid. It means a lot of other things too, and I'll get to a few, but the main thing to know right now is that as of midnight, our pay stops.

That means that our pay check on the 15th will only be half a pay check. And if congress can't pull it together by the 15th, we will get ZERO pay on May 1st. As in, ZERO.

Sure, we'll eventually get paid retroactively once a budget is passed, but that doesn't pay my rent right now.

So, here's a rundown of how the government is screwing people over:

1. No pay, which I just covered.

2. No death benefits if a soldier gets killed during the shut down. That means the family, who is already not receiving pay, by the way, has to come up with all the expenses for a funeral and burial, which for the military likely includes traveling to another part of the country and transporting the body there as well, out of pocket. You know, the pocket not getting paid.

3. I will have to pay full price for Liam's prescriptions if the government is still shut down on the 22nd. They're not carried at the military pharmacy, and our insurance will not be good at a civilian pharmacy (as in, Walgreen's) during a shut down.

4. Military members will not be authorized leave--not even emergency leave, not even in the case of the death of a spouse, parent or child--during a shut down. You see, paid leave (which is the only kind military can take. Unpaid leave is called being AWOL) is considered a debt to the government, and the government isn't allowed to incur debt during a shut down. Confused? Me too. Isn't the government incurring debt every second of every day?

5. Commissaries (military grocery stores) will be closed. Stateside, that's not a huge deal. Sure, a lot of things are cheaper there (like meat and paper products), but mostly the prices are on par with Wal Mart. It's a bigger deal overseas where it's the only place people can use WIC or often even their debit card. It's also a lot cheaper than a local grocery store. I did hear a rumor that overseas commissaries were going to be deemed essential and remain open. I hope that's the case.

6. Did I mention we won't get paid? Be cause we won't.

7. Government civilians who are "non-essential" are furloughed until a budget is passed. So, like us, they will not get pay. Unlike us, they will not get it retroactively. I was at the commissary buying meat like a hoarder today, and some of the cashiers were crying as they checked people out. One was sobbing, "I won't be able to feed my babies...I won't be able to feed them..." I hope that makes you proud, congress.

8. The military will be expected to continue to work, even though they will not be paid. Congress justifies this by saying that they are still "earning" pay. Congress can suck it.

9. Speaking of congress, they will get paid. As will the president. How convenient.

10. I just saw that this post is now obsolete. A shut down has been avoided. It's only temporary, but only because it will take a few days to draft the actual budget. Crisis averted. Let's see, they only have six months left until the NEXT budget is due.

11. Crap. We're stuck eating tuna noodle casserole for a month now even though we'll get paid.

Why you should ALWAYS carry a Sharpie.

I can just see the thought process that went on here,
because it was going through my head, too.

I passed the first one and shook my head in wonder at how some people manage to get and keep jobs that require a basic grasp of the English language.

By the second one my wonder has turned to annoyance.

By the third one, it had become rage.

By the fourth one, I...hold on...what's this? YES!!!!
Whoever did this is my soul mate.

The wind began to switch, the house began to pitch.

So, I was going to post something earlier today. I don't know what, but something.
Instead, I spent much of the day on a chair in my half bathroom praying I wouldn't die.

You see, in addition to filth, heights and spiders, I'm terrified of deadly weather events. And today was one long tornado warning.

Most people around here shrug it off because it happens so regularly. They don't worry unless they can actually see the funnel cloud closing in on them. Others even enjoy the extreme weather. While I love a good thunderstorm or blizzard, things like tornadoes and hurricanes scare me. You can't curl up on the couch and enjoy a tornado. There's no "tornado sound" setting on your white noise machine. You have radio people urgently telling you to seek shelter immediately and tornado sirens blaring outside your house and the knowledge that your kids are crouched in a hallway at school with their arms over their heads. To me, there's nothing to enjoy about that.

In Georgia, we narrowly missed being directly hit by a tornado. The sirens went off in the middle of the night, and within seconds we heard what sounded like a train directly outside our bedroom window and the house shook violently. Even if we'd had a safe room in that house, we had no time to get to it. Less than two minutes later it was over. The next day we went outside and saw a trail of destruction just feet from our house. A tree had fallen and severed a mobile home in half, other trees had taken out roofs. The roads in our neighborhood were impassable because of debris. It looked like the apocalypse had happened. That's when I decided tornadoes were going right on the top of my list of fears.

I'm pretty sure today's storm was sentient. And evil. The three major things damaged in our area? The national weather service radio tower (so, everyone with weather radios were out of luck), and two 911 centers. In different counties! What are the odds that some of the most important things in a tornado would be the only three things taken out? It's like the storm went all Jaws 4 on us. This time it was personal.

Anyway, those of you who follow me on Facebook got to witness the stages of my freak out first hand as I sat, panicked, in the bathroom. I know, It was kind of pathetic. Especially in retrospect. We didn't even lose power.

But there it is. Now you know. I'm a sissy when it comes to deadly weather.

Also, I think I need a couch in that bathroom.

A rose by any other name would probably still sound like a stripper.

If you name your daughter anything that
ends with "i," this is what you can expect.

This is an actual conversation between myself and the reservation agent I booked our Stripper 101 class with in Las Vegas:

(Blah blah blah...details about what time and how many and listing off nine Groupon confirmation codes...)

Agent: O.K., so I'm going to just make the reservations all in your name for simplicity. Can I get your name?

Me: Brandi, B-R-A-N-D-I, Douglass, D-O-U-G-L-A-S-S. [I always spell it out for people, otherwise it ends up being Brandy Douglas every single time.]

Agent: (Giggling) No, I need your real name for the reservation. You can tell her a stripper name for the license at the class.

Me: No, that is my real name.

Agent: Really? Brandi with an i and Douglass with ass?

Me: Yep. That's me.

Sigh.

Fast forward to the next evening at the end of the Stripper class. The teacher told us all to think of a stripper name for our licenses.

Among us we had a Sexy TeXXXy and a Stilett-Ho (which, by the way, the teacher spelled Stitle-Ho, which kind of detracts from the sexy factor), and someone even used Brandi as her stripper name.

Sigh.

So, I make my way up to get mine and she asks me what name I want and I say Brandi. She says, "Brandi is always a good stripper name." I tell her that it's actually my real name, it's even on my shoes. So she says, "Well, I'll sexy-spell it for you."

Guess how you sexy spell Brandi? C'mon, guess.
.
..
...
....
.....
......

Brandi.

Sigh.

And this has been going on my whole adult life. Whenever I meet someone in person for the first time who knew my name in advance, I always want to apologize for not being a large breasted sex kitten, because I know that's what they've imagined.

Do a Google image search for Brandi. (Make sure you spell it with an i.) The first four pages of results are mostly images of large breasted sex kittens that I can't even post here.

I suppose it could be worse. I could have been Bambi.

The Lonelies

I enjoy being alone.

I like quiet. I can retreat into my own head for hours. I'm excellent company for myself--I always agree with what I have to say, and when talking to myself, I'm a brilliant conversationalist.

This week, though, I have a case of the lonelies.

Last week I was surrounded by people 24/7. There was always someone to talk to. And not just anyone--I was surrounded by people I genuinely like and find endlessly interesting to talk to.

And now I'm alone again*, and finding that the company of myself just doesn't measure up to the company of others like it had before. I'm not sure what to do with this--this wanting people around. It's new to me.

I'm not sure that I like it.

Anyone want to come visit?


*If anyone says, "But you're not alone! You have the kids!" I'll hunt you down and punch you in the throat.