Good morning blog world.
Having consumed a blueberry muffin and some delicious tea, I am now ready to take on creation.
Sort of. I guess getting dressed would be key as well.
Let's start off with a small happy dance -- Luke is not going to Umatilla, the mythical, magical place on the Oregon/Washington border that must be guarded by Army boys with Strykers. Can we say "yay?"
Like I've said so many times, I'm all about Luke doing his duty. I would just rather he stayed here to do it. That's all.
In the words of Jenny, a PL who attends our Bible study and will deploy in September, "I'm really not that hooah."
Maybe it's because he doesnt think of me as hooah that Luke plans to take his platoon white water rafting without me. Now, if you look at Amy's long lost list of life goals, you will see that white water rafting is on there. Luke, apparently, does not know that (I plan to tell him). And as if to prove that I'm not hooah (a word Im suddenly tired of using so now I shall stop) instead of white water rafting my lingerie shower (courtesy of Abigial) is scheduled for the day of his trip. What can be more opposite from tough-man-ness than a bridal shower? I rest my case. No wonder he thinks I'm a pansy.
But my desire to prove my toughness only goes so far. For example, I was on the verge of suggesting something like "take your wife/fiance to PT day" as a fun MWR activity, when I realized that was the worst idea in the history of the world.
(And that's saying a lot because, I mean, look at the contenders for that title -- the Hindenburg, Spam and letting people like The Jonas Brothers play music on the radio -- tough crowd).
We've come to a rather pivotal point in my journey from Washingtonian to Northwest Resident. A final hold out in my fight against moving and a much loved unique feature about Amy is the way cool D.C. tags on her car.
Unfortunately, tags expire and mine give up the ghost on the 24th of this month. Short of having someone mail me my new registration from D.C., I am doomed to switching to Washington State tags.
So I did.
Ugh. $91 later, I have the tags and they are waiting to go on the car.
I suppose Ill wait until the last possible moment before letting go my last shred of cool-D.C. identity.
I did run into a woman at the coffee house the other day who lived in NoVa and is moving back to the area in a few months. It was so glorious talking about my "home" city with her ... could've gone on for hours ...
(Also I happen to really like this woman because she and two other people come in almost every Friday, order a ton of drinks and sandwiches and then tip at least $6. Woo!)
I suppose, though, it must happen. I think I'll just have Luke do it.
For the record, I do use every time someone says "D.C. tags? That's cool. I've never seen a tag from that state," to go on a little rant about how the District is NOT a state, the first signal of that being that it has no reps in congress or the senate, a fact that sadly does not seem to bother anyone but me. I think I'll still rant about this even after I get stupid Washington tags. I will find a way ... maybe I'll take to throwing tea in bodies of water or something.
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