Most of the time, I know what I'm doing, though there are some very big mysteries here.

Jake is going to be one of those adults that gets caught leading a double life.

In the time that Corey has been gone, Jake has been cycling through alter-egos. We've had "The Dead Cluefinder," the superhero he created, whose powers change as constantly as his outfit. The Dead Cluefinder will resurface on occasion, when something inspires his presence. Then we were "Jake Sully" from Avatar, during which we carried a backpack everywhere we went and refused to wear shorts, because "Marines only wear pants." We also answered to "Sergeant Marine Jake" during this time. Now, we're "Indiana Jones." He has an actual Indiana Jones hat he got for Christmas, which goes with a little plastic gun and holster, which he wears on a brown braided belt. There's another belt that goes across his chest like I would wear a pageant sash.

The bane of my existence best part is that that asshole Indiana (the real one, not the one who lives in my house) never closes his shirt, so that women all over could fawn over Harrison Ford's sweaty, tan chest. Mini-Indy who lives here is not so mature. Sometimes he looks like he's starving, but I swear we feed him. The adoption of this alter-ego coincided perfectly with my hitting a sale at Kohl's and bringing home three or four shortsleeve button shirts.

I can't bring myself to take a picture of this fashion statement for you. I will tell you that he is sitting here with me right now in yellow and orange Paul Frank monkey pajama pants and an unbuttoned blue and white shirt. He'll cooperate at bedtime and put the pajama shirt on, but when he comes downstairs in the morning, he'll have on the unbuttoned shirt, both belts, and the hat. Every time we leave the house, I have to explain that shirts will be buttoned and all belts, plastic guns and fedoras stay home.

Can someone please explain to me how you suddenly stop liking foods you enjoyed last week? Remember the brisket incident? The first time I made Mexican lasagna, Jake practically put his face in the plate and inhaled it. Last time I made it, he wrinkled his nose at the sight, gagged when I made him take a bite and opted for five clementines and a glass of whole milk for supper. This happens every weekend. One of them doesn't like something....you used to eat it.....not anymore. I never want to hear "not anymore" again.

Actually, "not anymore" began when I explained to them that you can't claim an allergy to EVERYTHING just because you don't care for it.

Tonight we had pizza for supper. Corey is very particular about his frozen pizza and he does like the Brick Oven pizzas, so that's what I buy, whether he's here or not. They're square. I personally love this quality because that means there are crustless pieces, but whatever. They're damn good. The boys asked me what kind of pizza were were having and I said the big square kind that Dad likes. They both said they hated square pizza, and when I said they've been eaten square pizza here for almost three years, they said they don't like it anymore.

I made it anyway, and then, THEN I used the very tiny bit of geometry I remembered from Mr. McCrory and cut the pizza so that there were triangle pieces that looked like the pieces they would be served from a round pizza, and they ate that shit up. That pizza was delicious. They told me so. Sometimes it bothers me that you can't treat little kids like you do adults. I would make my own little sister feel like a total dumbass if I was ever able to pull a trick like this on her. With children, you have to bite your tongue, because making them the butt of grownup jokes is not nice. But I'll tell you about it, and you can gloat with me.

A few observations:

Why does God create little boys with an instinct to find objects to put in holes, and to draw their hands to their pants like absentminded magnets when their brains are occupied?

Why do you have to take your shirt off to wrestle?

Who sets the example for little boys that it's okay to bite your toenails?

Who was the first person to send forth the "I don't have to wash my hands because I didn't get any pee on me" argument?

I tell them all the time how nasty they are. I just asked Landen what little boys are made of, and he said "snakes and snails and puppy dog tails" because every time they bite their toes, pick their nose, fart like old men or belch a word, I repeat that rhyme to them.

.....

Summer delights for the WHOLE family

My two favorite things about summer are:

Pop-ice popsicles and watermelons. I beat my popsicles with a meat tenderizer before I eat them. I've done this since I was little. I eat salt on my watermelon. I've done that for as long as I can remember.

I bought my first box of popsicles this week. When the boys and I came in from swimming tonight, we had a popsicle. Landen bites his with his front teeth like his dad does. Jake sucks on his and chews with his side teeth. I beat mine and eat them that way. Jake tried a blue one but didn't like it, so he threw it away and got a red one.

Murphy has never had a popsicle in his life. He does love ice. But he sat at the garbage can and cried his little eyes out for that blue popsicle. So I gave it to him.

He ate the whole thing!

My sister is horrified right now. Cydney, this is not your child!

He came with me upstairs to put the boys to bed. I guess it was taking a little longer for me to tuck them in than he thought it was going to, because he came back downstairs to get his chew and laid down by Landen's bed to nosh while his brudders watched TV.

Damn, I love this dog.

I love my weekends with these boys and this dog. I can't share it with you though. They move too fast for me to get good pictures of the three of them together.

AND, I am happy to report that the enduring and explosive conflict between Lily and Everyone In This House Who Is Not Me is waning. Last weekend, she let Landen pet her three times. Last night, Lily and Murphy joined me on the couch to watch TV.

.....

Swim. Swam. Have swum. Say that in Spanish.

In the month that I've been taking the boys to the pool, we've made some huge strides in growing our aquatic abilities. They once would not leave the shallow end, the "three feet." Now they swim underwater, do flips, hold on to me while I swim all around the deep end, and even use the edge to swim out to the ladder at 5 1/2 feet, and use the ladder to touch the bottom.

I should mention that they will only do these things in full goggles and sometimes a snorkle.

They tell me what good swimmers they are. I assure them with lots of enthusiasm that they've gotten very good at not drowning. Although Jake did try to follow me out to the deep end without telling me and I had to lunge at him and pull him up from under water. He didn't leave the three feet for the rest of the weekend.

They start swimming lessons in a couple weeks and I am convinced they are going to be way above the other kids in their age group. I haven't yet told them you can't take the goggles and snorkles to swim lessons.

\

Little water in the nose. Forgot to put on the goggles.

Jake goes nowhere without this water gun.

Landen can (kinda) do a handstand.

Dad, this is for you. This rocks!

Jake's goggles are actually too big for his face, so if he doesn't smush them on well, he'll get water in them.

Tonight there was a big family in the pool, and one of the little boys was playing with Jake and Landen. Before long, Landen came over and said that boy called him a "difficult nerd." I told him to tell the boy he wasn't playing with namecallers and to please leave him alone. I'm certain that's not what Landen said, because I heard him say "Ooh, I'm going to tell my stepmom you said that." Then he came over and told me the boy called him stupid, and for me to go and punch him in the face.

I explained to Landen that the police would come and take me away if I gave that kid the smacking he deserved, and to stay away from the kid. Landen told me he was mad at me because I wouldn't punch the kid like his dad would (he wouldn't) and went back in the water. A few minutes later, he stomped out of the water and came over to tell me that the kid had called him a "stupid asshole."

Well, shit. Now I have to be confrontational.

I went over to a woman sitting with the group and asked who that particular child belonged to. A man identified himself as his uncle. The conversation went like this:

Me: Your nephew just called my son a stupid asshole.

Uncle to nephew: Espanol, espanol, espanol.....Is this true?

Shithead kid: Yes, but...........he was telling me tricks.

Uncle to me: Did you hear that?

Me: Excuse me. Did my son call you a curseword?

Shithead kid: No, but.......

Uncle to nephew: Espanol, espanol, espanol, angry espanol...

Uncle to me: I'll take care of it.

Me: Thank you.

I am Landen's hero.

.....

Eventually all things merge into one, and a river runs through it.

Last weekend was Flagon Creek Bass Club's Umpteenth Annual Family Day. My sister and I have been participating in this event since I was about five and she was about three. We have many, many fishing trophies at our house. Family day is always near Father's Day. Last year Corey had drill that weekend and Jake wanted to play in a baseball tournament, so I loaded Landen and Dixie in the car and we had a blast.

Tradition is everything in our family, so even though Corey was gone for Father's Day, they were observing it with me, and that meant a day on Black River Lake. This year Cydney and Justin and Dixie came too.

Landen has a terrible case of The Afraids. He has gotten teary every time we've mentioned Black River Lake for six weeks. He's afraid of the water, because you can't see in it. He's afraid of the boat going too fast, and the top of it going into the air, and it leaving the water when it hits bumps. I was determined to make him get in the boat to see there's nothing to be afraid of, but my dad insisted that he wasn't making Landen scream on Father's Day. Maybe next year.

Jake does not have The Afraids. Jake is a "sure, why not?" kid. It's awesome. I wanted to go boat riding when we got there, so Justin took Jake and me out in my Dad's boat, and it was no sweat to that kid.

But then when we got back, Cydney and Dixie were sitting on the boat house, and Landen was WET!

Please excuse the life jacket. I swear when my dad says he has vests for the boys, he doesn't mean the vest I wore when I was their age.

Landen had started jumping off the boat house into the water! And he got his brother to do it with him.

We clearly achieved a major triumph over The Afraids this year.

One of the best parts of the day was watching all the kids fall down. There's no way for me to say that gently. There's a boat ramp at the camp where we were that day, and the bottom of the ramp, the part that was covered in water, was also covered with algae. So these little kids would go scurrying off to get in the water and their feet would slip out from under them. A couple kids fell so hard they rolled over and were facing us on the porch when their momentum ceased. Justin and I kept hoping and hoping that some enthusiastic adult would bust their ass on that boat ramp, but alas, the joy was not ours.

Even though Jake and Landen did not fish (I wouldn't let my dad get them up at 4:30 AM to take them), they still got trophies for participating.

And I took pictures with them, for the third time in their life. The first was one night at Corey's clubhouse in the fall of 2007. The other was at our wedding. I am usually behind the camera taking pictures of them with their dad.

And then the BIG FUN started, because Jake was willing to ride the tube! With Justin. And I took this glorious photo of their dismount.

He didn't love it.

And because I can't think of some poetic ending to this blog post, other than saying I had a wonderful day with the boys and my family and the bass club, I give you this photo of Cydney and Justin.

.....

Stop listening. You might learn something.

I am my father's child, although we discussed this weekend that his love of the outdoors is a trait I sent scurrying down to my sister. I pursued my preference for air conditioning from birth, running right along behind my mama, who has a fan pointed on her no matter what room she's in.

I know it seems that growing up my father's wisdom fell on deaf ears, but it's really the kind of thing where you recall it when you need it, and refuse to admit its worth when it's delivered. So, in honor of my own wise and compassionate father, here are Ten Things I Heard From My Dad Growing Up That Are Proving Most Useful in Adulthood and Parenthood.

I have created table skirts and lampshades that look very expensive with duct tape as my adhesive. My daddy said "if it moves and it's not supposed to, duct tape it." So I do. They make that shit in CLEAR. You can literally put it on anything. Corey draws the line for where duct tape can and cannot go.

My dad is obsessed with dirty fingernails. He keeps "cutnails" (clippers) in every room, just in case something needs a clipping. If nails are long enough to capture dirt, they are too long and must be cut immediately. I wish I could grow long nails, but I can't. When I try, he still comments on the length. But I am now obsessed with Jake and Landen's fingernails, though I don't cut them as short as my dad does his.

My parents have jars and containers full of random bolts and screws. When he buys things that need assembling, he saves the extra pieces. He's done this for at least my thirty years of life. When something moves and it shouldn't and duct tape has been ruled out as the solution, all these bolts and screws get poured out on the kitchen counter and he always finds something that will work in there.

Every blessed Christmas, we hear the "Don't burn the pearls" story. It seems that one Christmas my grandfather had the inspiration and the resources to buy my grandmother a string of pearls. After she "oohed" and "aahed" over the surprise, she put them off to the side to continue gift-opening. At Wilson Christmas, the garbage is picked up immediately after the last present is opened. That particular year, the pearls were thrown away and were off to the incinerator before anyone knew they were missing.

I remember in high school I was pondering how to show my ass in the middle of a breakup, and my dad came out of his study whilst I was plotting. Whether he overheard or inquired I do not recall, but I remember him telling me that I should not do anything  that, if someone were to remind me of it years later, as friends and witnesses are wont to do, would not make me feel embarassed by my behavior. I am certain I did not heed that advice, and I know that I ignored it and brought shame to my name for years to come, but now I find that particular article of wisdom very profound.

My dad works all the time. When he's not working he's fishing, planning to go fishing, working on his fishing camp, or preparing for any of the above. When he's not doing any of those things, he's cleaning the kitchen at his house. Obviously, he naps daily. Or almost, if he's not on the road. If he goes home for lunch, there's a 30 minute nap in that schedule. Saturdays and Sundays have at least one per day. So, when the urge or necessity to nap is upon you, go with it.

My dad has one older brother and one younger sister and they all participated in a loving but tumultuous upbringing. They have a beautifully loyal, loving, supportive and honest relationship with each other. It is the reason I am obsessed with my own sister. She's the only sister I got.

"If it ain't broke, don't fix it." This applies to babies and gadgets. If the baby isn't crying, don't fool with it. If something is running fine, leave it alone.

"If you've gotta eat a turd there's no point nibblin'." This is not the advocacy of eating excrement. The point we have always taken is that if you have to do something unpleasant, you should just hurry and get it over with. But that doesn't have as much personality as saying it his way. It's all about delivery. Or presentation.

The secret of life is in the lyrics to country music songs, and ONLY country music songs. Happy, sad, lonely, joyful, fishing. There's a country music song written specifically for it.

That is why all the girls in town follow you all around...

For Valentine's Day, my gift to my absent husband was a post detailing my eleven favorite things about him. For Father's Day, he gets a card with a little something in it, and another post devoted to his coolness. Without further ado, here are Eleven Things You May Not Know About SSG Corey Allbritton But Always Wanted To, which, unless otherwise noted, are Eleven More of My Favorite Things About Him.  

1. He knows all the words to "Can't Smile Without You" and "The Winner Takes It All," and neither that knowledge nor my telling all of you about it will impugn on his manhood in the least.

2. He will kill you, unless you are a spider, and then he will make me do it.

3. People he has nothing in common with can always find something awesome about him. Corey impressed my cousin Steve with how he assembled the drums from a "Rock Band" kit at the speed of light. With no instructions. Before all the pieces were removed from the box.

4. He says he doesn't like garlic, but he eats a shitload of it. I cook lots of dishes with garlic in them. I put garlic in where none is required because the flavor is good. Maybe he has no idea. Maybe he knows and eats it anyway. But I don't know which because if he does know how much garlic he eats when he doesn't love it, he has never said "stop using all that damn garlic."

5. He hates bell peppers. It's the only thing I've ever seen him pick out of his food.

6. He talks in his sleep. It's almost always soldier-speak, and he barks it like he's trying to keep a poor private from hurting himself or others. Once he spoke perfect Spanish to me. I never have a recorder handy.

7. He sleeps on the pull-out sofa with his children every Saturday night. It ain't comfy.

8. He washes the dishes before he puts them in the dishwasher.

9. If you let him sit still for too long with his head supported, he will fall asleep.

10. He refuses to wear jeans that fit.

11. He has all of his teeth in his mouth, including his wisdom teeth.

Plus, he is the father of these two boys, who think he is Walking Soldiering Perfection, and I wouldn't dare let them think any different.

I swear, I thought Great Don had bought new GD life vests. We're shopping for new ones this summer.

Waiting on his trophy at his Yankees End of Season Pool Party.

I'm 100% certain we were having a disagreement at the moment I took this picture.

By the way, most of the posts that I write for the benefit or in honor of Corey have a song title or lyric that he should know immediately. He gets them all right. That's fact # 12.

.....

This is dedicated to the one I love

Okay, so my iPod was removed from my car by some hooligans who live in my apartment complex. I can only imagine their disappointment to find that my treasure was really their trash. I do not think that the kind of people who steal pink iPods from people's crossover vehicles can expect to enjoy their musical selections, a solid repertoire of Barbra, Bette, Liza, Barry, Cher, Kelly Clarkson, Glee and soundtracks from Broadway musicals and dance movies. Bastards.

I'm still not over it. I've had that iPod since 2005, back when Santa Claus still came to my parents' house and left me shit. He even engraved "Nell Nell Ring My Bell" on the back of it.

All's okay with the world again though, because today in the mail I received a Shiny New Maximum Capacity iPod from SSG Allbritton, my favorite husband in the history of the world, who did not even ask me if the car was unlocked. He just assumed the worst possible thing happened to make me the victim of the worst crime perpetrated on the planet and replaced my equipment. And if he had been able to have it engraved, which he could not because he bought it from the online PX, it would say Forever Yours on it. I got choked up when he told me that, and then I laughed because he had to tell me it was a double entendre - both HE and the IPOD are forever mine.

We love music, the husband and me. It moves us. It soothes us. It defines the feelings we cannot define for ourselves. It explains us to each other. It gets our kids to stop making noises in the car. We met in the high school BAND. There's a playlist in all of my devices that begin with -i- called "Sergeant," and it has all my Corey songs in it. And they are, selected at random because they have the best meanings and are the most polite for public consumption:

1. 
   
   Ain't That a Kick in the Head, Dean Martin It is the label for an entire series of posts on this blog about being married.
2. 
   
   Chances Are, Bob Seger and Martina McBride Most of the time, when you ride in the car with the Allbrittons for an extended period of time, there are concerts. Often these concerts include duets, Dolly-and-Kenny-style. This is one of them.
3. 
   
   Come Home Soon, She-Daisy It's a deployment song.
4. 
   
   Come Rain or Come Shine, Bette Midler from "For the Boys" Cause I am. But I like this version because she sings it to her husband while he's deployed in that movie.
5. 
   
   Dedicated to the One I Love, The Shirelles
6. 
   
   Don't Know What You've Got (Til It's Gone), Cinderella This is a song we used to listen to in high school. I think he gave me the tape.
7. 
   
   Everything, Michael Buble We cut the cake at our wedding to this song.
8. 
   
   Faithfully, Glee Cast
9. 
   
   The Flame, Cheap Trick This is about never letting go of your first love. I listened to it when we had our final break up some years ago, but it's been given a new life in Round Two.
10. 
    
    Halo, Beyoncè
11. 
    
    Have a Little Faith in Me, John Hiatt This was our wedding dance.
12. 
    
    Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman?, Bryan Adams
13. 
    
    Here Without You, 3 Doors Down I think this may be a deployment anthem, and not just for me.
14. 
    
    I'll Be There for You, Bon Jovi We sang this to each other one night, back in the day, on a bus trip with the band. You don't need to know all the particulars. The first time he came to my house in 2007, I was sick and we sat on my couch until 4 AM listening to random music on the radio, and this song came on. It was a moment.
15. 
    
    I'm Yours, Jason Mraz
16. 
    
    I Can't Sleep Baby (If I), R. Kelly Once upon a time in high school, this boy broke this girl's heart for no apparent reason. And when he was ready to quit being a jackass and try to be her boyfriend again, and she was such a big fool that she had not run off in the other direction, he told her he was sorry with this song.
17. 
    
    I Hate You Then I Love You, Celine Dion and the late Luciano Pavarotti It's not as bad as it sounds.
18. 
    
    I Say a Little Prayer, Cast of "My Best Friend's Wedding" I don't know why this song or why this version. It just is.
19. 
    
    If You Ever Did Believe, Stevie Nicks My friend Em sent me a CD called "My Feelings Would Best Be Described Through Song" that she made for me of songs she felt particular appropriate for the period of Erin's illness and Corey's deployment. I got it when Corey was home on emergency leave and this song was playing when I dropped him off at the airport on the morning of April 30.
20. 
    
    In Another's Eyes, Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood Because we've never been able to walk away from each other.
21. 
    
    Leaving on a Jet Plane, Chantal Kreviazuk Cause he did.
22. 
    
    Lips of an Angel, Hinder This song actually came out when we were having nothing to do with each other. However, when we began Round Two, we discovered that that song reminded both of us of the other.
23. 
    
    Misty Blue, Dorothy Moore This is another from Em's CD.
24. 
    
    My Boo, Usher and Alicia Keys He hates this song. I love it, and I dedicate it to him anydamnway.
25. 
    
    My Heartstrings Come Undone, Demon Hunter Be ye not thrown by the name of the group. The song is decent, and it made him think of me all our years apart.
26. 
    
    Need You Know, Lady Antebellum We both love us some Lady Antebellum. This song is about a breakup, but it conveys that feeling of being desperate to talk to someone, which I always am, unless we're already on the phone.
27. 
    
    P.S. I love you, Bette Midler Cause I do.
28. 
    
    Patience, Guns 'n Roses Did y'all know that Corey can whistle? He's wicked good at it.
29. 
    
    Return to Me, Dean Martin Cause he's gonna.
30. 
    
    Reunited, Peaches and Herb Cause we did.
31. 
    
    Set the Fire to the Third Bar, Snow Patrol If you are currently missing someone, this song will rip your heart out in an honest and beautiful way. Some people just find the most poetic ways to say exactly what I'm feeling. And then they make a lot of money off it.
32. 
    
    Sleeping with the Telephone, Reba McEntire and Faith Hill
33. S.O.S., Pierce Brosnan and Meryl Streep The vocals aren't astouding, but the movie is phenomenal fun and we love to sing this to the boys in the car.
34. 
    
    Take My Hand, Wayne Toups Once upon a time, still in high school, that same boy had been a jackass to that same girl, AGAIN and they happened to run into each other at the Corn Festival in Bunkie, Summer 1996. They had an amazing day and night, and Wayne Toups was the featured entertainer that year.
35. 
    
    Teach Me Tonight, Dinah Washington I went through a Dinah Washington phase and we both love this song. It's sultry and not about what she's singing about. We danced to it at our wedding.
36. 
    
    Two is Better Than One, Boys Like Girls with Taylor Swift
37. 
    
    Until the Day I Die, Story of the Year
38. 
    
    When You're Gone, The Cranberries This was my anthem when I was a junior in high school and my boyfriend had abandoned me for four months of basic training.
39. 
    
    You Were Meant for Me, Jewel Cause he was
40. 
    
    Your Song, Kate Walsh Haven't you heard? / I'm stuck on a verse / I'm stuck on a boy / Who fills me with joy

Thank you for my present. I am now as complete as I could hope to be with me here and you there.

.....

Bless your heart

One undisclosed weekend this Spring, I hauled off to Arkansas to eat cheese and chex mix, shop, sing, dance and drink wine with DC Emily (So called because we met in DC. She now lives in Arkansas. Had to be distinguished from California Emily, who is from Louisiana but lived in California when I lived in DC, and now lives in Dallas. Try and keep up.)

We drank and sang and drank some more and then the dancing started. It took twelve hours to sleep it off and we were complete wastes for the rest of the day. We can no longer party in the comfort of our own homes like we could when we were 24, and that's just a shame.

There's an old women's dorm at the University of Arkansas that has been converted into a hotel with the loveliest little lounge and the most engaging little bartender. We sat in rocking chairs on a big front porch, drinking rosè and eating artisan cheese, watching people come and go.

Our favorite was this woman, I'm pretty sure her name was Maude. She had on a BRIGHT pink pontè knit suit and curly white hair and long manicured fingernails. Her husband, I'm pretty sure his name was Burt, was the passenger in their car, which always translates to me that Burt never gets to talk or do anything he wants because Maude bosses him all the time, dontchaknow?

We watched them pull up in front of the hotel and sit there for a second, before finally deciding as a team that Maude's sea-foam green Jaguar needed to be pulled up from the front steps of the hotel. You could tell that Maude was doing this under protest. She was none too happy about Burt telling her that car couldn't just sit right there in the middle of the driveway. In doing so, she almost leveled the railing on the handicap ramp.

Thankfully, no accident occurred.

However, once they pulled up and we could see their license plate, a photo had to be captured for all eternity.

Yes, Burt and Maude. Bless you, indeed.

.....

Love.....love will win you a mixer...

I have a new obsession, and I'm late to the party. She is the Pioneer Woman. I'm going to be just like her from now on. Not really, because she is a city girl who fell in love with a cowboy and moved out to a ranch and cooks and takes pictures and writes books and I am....none of those things. I do cook, but I don't blog about it. I do take pictures, but not artistically. I love a soldier, not a cowboy. I live in an apartment, not on a ranch. I am going to write a book one day.

The other night I sat in my chair and did not move until I had read all of this, which is her love story about her Malboro Man. I'm going to write mine, because my story is better, but do not exect it any time soon. It's long. I've written two single-spaced pages and we haven't gone out on our first date yet.

So bright and early this morning I am in the bed on the website on my iPhone before both my eyes are open, and she's having a contest, giving away a KitchenAid stand mixer (I already have one, but that's not the point) to three random people who answer this question:

“If you could meet and have dinner with one man throughout the history of mankind, whom would it be? And why?

I read all 400 answers, some of which were relevant - like the founding fathers or the CEO of BP - and some of them were typical - like Jesus, Abraham Lincoln and people's departed fathers and grandfathers - and some of them were thoughtful - like Mark Twain, Nelson Mandela or the Dalai Lama.

I never enter contests. In the history of my life, I have never won an item. Not a prize drawing. Not $1 from a scratch-off lottery card. I have won money in card games and at casinos, but I consider that something I've earned. In the last five years, I stopped entering contests, because I do not win them. But I had to enter this one. Not because I need a mixer, although she's giving away some attachments that I'm all about, or because I want her to know my name, which I really do. I answered the question to enter the contest because my answer was better than everybody else's compelling and needed to be shared.

My answer is...

Are you ready?

My husband.

The other day I got an amazing and unexpected email from a new friend who has done this Army wife thing for a while, and it contained the best description of my current emotional state, one that I had not been able to describe for myself. She shared with me that she found it easy to be a pillar of strength in the beginning of deployment and then there came a point where she could no longer be positive. That point was The Middle, when she could not easily remember what life was like before deployment, and the end of deployment was too far away to look forward to. She said "the middle was the hardest point."

Here I am, smack dab in The Middle, and it feels like shit, like I cannot remember what we would do if he were here, and looking forward would only make the time go slower. It took someone else having to diagnose me as being in The Middle, but I completely embrace it, and the suck that comes along with it. This too shall pass. My husband says so.

Back to the contest. There is no man on earth more interesting to me than Corey Allbritton right now. I would hang on his every word with baited breath. I would buy him dinner wherever he wanted and he could spend the whole dinner talking about Military Things I Don't Understand and I would smile and nod. I would get to touch him to know he was all in one piece. I would get to smell his face, which still smells like high school to me. I would get to plug in and charge the connection that is fading as this period of separation gets longer and longer. It wouldn't just be dinner. It would temporarily change my quality of life.

The world, or at least all the readers of ThePioneerWoman.com, needs to know that I would have the best dinner with My Most Interesting Man in the History of Mankind. Nobody misses Abe Lincoln more than I miss Corey Allbritton. Whether I win a mixer for saying it is bonus.

Seriously, if you don't already, bookmark thepioneerwoman.com and read it. When I make a pilgrimage to her ranch in Oklahoma one day, I'll let anybody who can prove a devotion matching mine ride with me.
.....

Busy Work

I despise apartment living. Hate it. It's so cookie cutter and you cannot do anything to it to make it more you and less blah. You can only throw so many accessories and art around to make something unique to you. One of my few healthy expressions is drinking baking so I can eat the batter eating take-out trimming my own bangs accessorizing and re-accessorizing my apartment.

My mother bought me a white iron bed when I moved into my first apartment in 1999. I love it. I have dreams of putting giving it to my baby girl. Corey Daniel Allbritton hates it because it's white and iron and he says he does not have anything to lean his head against, which is fine because we really need a king size bed. So when Corey comes home and we buy a house, we're buying a king size bed. I like iron and he wants something he can lean against, so we compromised on an upholstered headboard. When I showed Cydney Wilson all that we had picked out for our future bed ensemble, she got an idea.

Baby Sister has, for her whole entire life, wanted my things. I put 100% of the blame in my not liking people in my house because people touch my things on her constant childhood need to ask to have everything that belonged to me. This is less constant and less annoying 23 years later, so when she asked if she could swap her queen-sized upholstered headboard for my queen-sized iron bed, since we're getting a new bed anyway, I said sure. There are two stipulations: she has to return my bed to me when I have a baby and I was not lifting a finger to swap out the beds.

Enter Justin Devore, Boyfriend Extraordinaire, who came and swapped the beds. I bought some black cotton duck from the Hobby Lobby and took it to the embroidery lady down the street from my apartment and reupholstered Cydney's headboard into this chic (I never use that word) magazine-worthy display you see here:

Corey loves this bed. He's only seen this one photo, but he declared it to be "his favorite bed of all time."

On a recent pilgrimage to the great state of Arkansas to eat, drink entirely too much for my advanced age and be annoyingly merry with Emily Williams, I purchased this console table that I am currently using as a TV perch. (This is the third console table I've had this year. The first was a bulky thing from World Market that my husband brought with him when he moved in, and I gave it to Baby Sister, who has a great big bulky TV in need of a great big bulky something to sit it atop of. The second was a trim, thin coffee table with a shelf that I got from Pier 1. That is resting comfortably in the third bedroom, or furniture waiting area, with several other pieces that I like and fear the need for in a future house, meaning it currently has no use but I cannot get rid of it. I have space in a storage building for the same purpose.)

Murphy felt that it's been too long since he was on the blog, and since he cannot sit still for photos, he makes the camera blurry when he's in pictures.

This is a buffet that I inherited from my godmother, Aunt Soupie. I love the piece but the finish isn't really me. I still intend to paint it black. but I don't want to do something irreversible to it until I know what its primary function in a house will be. Foyer? Dining room? I just mess with it all the time trying to get it to look right. Balanced. Interesting.

The mirror has to go. The lamp I just got on the same trip to Arkansas. I keep reading where you are supposed to have things that are living in rooms, so those are some hydrangeas and some coral on top of the stack of books. This is the closest I've come to being happy with this, but it's not over.

A couple months ago I was scouring online antique listings and local shops for a pedestal table and a secretary. The secretary project I was able to talk myself down from, but we should fully expect it to return with a vengeance once I get a house. The Hunt for the Pedestal Table continued and spread into other states. Imagine my delight, when during the same trip to Arkansas, Emily and I stumbled upon The Pefect Pedestal Table in an antique and gift shop near her house and she bought it for me for my 30th birthday!

Lookie! Miss Lily!

Me loves. This is my favorite thing in my house to stand and look at. And I rarely sat in that chair before, but now it's my preferred seating area in the living room. I've given up the couch to the boys and the dog.

.....

Somebody put a hex on my car

If there was an agency like child protective services that responds to abuse or neglect of vehicles, the authorities would have been called on me this week. I have taken very poor care of the gift that Corey and I bought ourselves for Christmas. I am glad that it's my car that is neglected and endangered and not my children.

One day last week, my coworker called me on my cell phone to ask me where I was. I responded that I was standing outside my office and inquired into his whereabouts. Turns out, he was standing, in the rain, next to my running car in the parking lot of my office building. HELLO! He turned the car off, locked it, brought me my keys and did not give me shit about it at all that day, which I truly appreciate.

On Monday, I was on my way to meet the boys at their pediatrician's office to inquire into some changes about Jake's medicine for the summer. Having never been there before, I had mapped the route on the GPS on my iPhone. I was stopped at a red light on Goodwood at Chevelle, looking in my lap reviewing my directions, when I saw the cars in my left periphery zooming past me, I accelerated. Unfortunately I did this at the same time that I looked up and saw the Suburban With a Trailer Hitch in front of me not moving at the green light. I hit them.

That was the first time I've ever rear-ended someone. I've been hit on the passenger side twice, and in April I backed into a parked car that was parallel parked behind me. I'm usually a very good driver. I lost it, meaning all sense of order, around the middle of April and I have not gotten it back together yet. It's returning to me in pieces.

The officer who showed up fifty minutes after I called him did not ticket me. Thank God law enforcement recognizes a Blue Star sticker. He'd just gotten out of the military the year before, having been to Iraq, Afghanistan and North Korea. I was honest about what I was doing and how I happened to run into the stopped car in front of me, but that woman did not go when the light turned green, and he can recognize a distraught Army wife when he sees one.

The trailer hitch I ran into was stoped by my LSU license plate, so I only have to replace the grill, which is $214. I feel less bad about that. My husband seemed to blow it off when it happened so I was surprised at the irritation he expressed the following day when I told him I would just superglue the grill back together if I could. Not only did he want me to fix the car, he wanted me to have not wrecked it in the first place.

This morning the boys and I went to get into the car, which would parked in front of my door, to run a number of errands, one of which being to drop off their dad's care package at the post office. Only, I was sure I had taped up that box and now the flaps were all mismatched. And I was pretty sure the box had contents yesterday, but now it was empty. This box contained Zapp's Cajun Crawtaters, Crystal Light, razorblades, AA batteries, AAA batteries, his gaming magazines and dusting supplies. Son of a bitch.

And once I got in the car and opened the center console, I was devastated to find that my iPod, the one I've had since 2005 that my parents gave me that had "Nell Nell Ring My Bell" engraved on it, had also been jacked. I feel safe that the asshat who took it is not going to regard it as a treasure once he finds it full of showtunes, Chicago and Bette Midler. So in addition to the $214 I have to pay for wrecking my car, I also have to pony up the money for a new iPod.

Corey is on a mission, so he does not know this happened. Yet.

I did get a freebie on having to use my cuss cup this morning, though. Those boys are some generous.