Sunday, November 27, 2005


For the last two nights, I've dreamt of Heidi Sims. I've never met her or talked to her, but I secretly read her site several times per week to see how she's doing.

Friday night, I dreamt that I was in Kansas. I had been abducted by some guy, but I got away. As I was running down and endless country road, I saw Heidi jogging towards me with her son Colin. He was in one of those three-wheeled strollers that serious joggers put their kids in. Anyway, I recognized her from a mile away, which I know is impossible. But I swear I knew who she was as soon as I saw a figure in the distance. She recognized me too, and asked if I needed any help. The dream ended there. When I woke up, I wondered why it was her in the dream. Anyone who knows her story would wonder the same thing. Why wasn't it someone who hadn't experienced so much tragedy, someone who didn't have anything better to do than help me escape? I haven't been able to stop thinking about it.

Last night was worse. And I guess the dream wasn't so much about Heidi, but I thought of her in it. My husband left for his second tour in Iraq. He came home in a casket a couple of weeks later. I got a call from some guy in my husband's unit saying that I needed to come pick up Mark's body. When I got there, no one was there to console me. I can't even explain how devastated I was. Every spouse thinks about how they would react, where they would go, who they would turn to. But I could have never imagined feeling so hopeless about my husband's death...Even in my worst nightmare. Anyway, the dream gets cloudy from here, but I went to the lake while it was warm and sunny. I laid on a water float and sobbed. I thought to myself in the dream, this is how Heidi felt. Apparently, I was sobbing out loud, and woke my husband in the process. He wanted to know what I was crying about. All I could think was, thank God that was a dream. I can't help but wish that it would have been a dream for Heidi too.

Thursday, November 17, 2005


So after four years of playing the hurry up and wait game, my husband is finally being rewarded for all of his hard work.

As of December 1st, 2005, he will be called "Sergeant McGuire".

Congratulations Baby!!!

Friday, November 11, 2005


Sarah always remembers to blog on Veteran's Day. She has some HOT great uncles that are veterans, by the way!! Of course, I've always had a thing for a man in uniform! I just realized that I've never really thanked my friends, or the members in my family that have served.

I would also like to thank the people whom I never met, but who have impacted my life by serving...People like Gunnar Becker and Sean Sims.

Grandpa Phelps, Grandpa Champion, Grandpa French, Mom, Dad, Dad #2, Uncle Don, Uncle Fred, Godmother Mary, Godfather Gary, Mark, Josh, Lulu, Jason P., Michael E., Russ W., Neil P., Chris C., and Ryan C.:

Thank you for defending our country. You have laid your life on the line for the freedom and democrocy that America stands for. Good soldiers, seaman, marines, and airmen are the prime example of what I call "Hero". Thank you for doing what I think is the hardest job in the world. Thank you for sometimes putting your family second in order to protect people that might not appreciate you. Thank you for spending time in unpleasant conditions to accomplish the mission. And most of all, thank you for allowing me to be a part of your life.

Happy Veteran's Day.


I've recently signed up to be on the Human Society's mailing list. Every once in a while, they send me petitions that they are trying to get a certain amount of signatures on. Read this to see how inhumanely chickens are being slaughtered (I know they're chickens for heaven's sake, but still...they experience pain just like cows and pigs).

If you want, sign the petition that seeks stricter regulations for chicken slaughter houses. It takes about five seconds.

Thursday, November 10, 2005


I have been reading La Shawn Barber's Corner for a while now. She is one cool chic. Here, she talks about the riots in France.


This asshole has probably never even met a soldier. On the same site, this girl says that Kerry knows how to "keep it real". Umm, ok.


I've heard German rap before. It's not a pretty sound. And I don't have words vile enough for this Nazi rapper.


I shouldn't be blogging right now...I have way too much homework to do. But I'm so pissed off and ready to leave this stupid country that I need to talk about it. I've actually been trying to avoid blogging about Germany, because I have German friends and acquaintances that I actually enjoy being around. If I were ever to tell them how I felt about their stupid country, I wouldn't be very popular...

So this hatred towards Deutschland has been brewing for almost three years, but it comes and goes when I actually have to encounter these fuckers. Last night was a breaking point.

The Army provides us with the highest quality appliances (sarcasm) that only break down every other week. If one of your appliances is 15 years old or older, and it breaks down, they will replace it without asking questions. The first month I lived in this house, I had the dryer and the stove replaced--they were both "kaput" they like to say here. The dishwasher is only six years old, so I'm screwed. It's a German dishwasher that actually makes dishes dirtier than they were when they went in there. Sick.

About a month ago, my wash machine started leaking. I called DPW, which is the place that comes and fixes these pieces of shit. The guy came, told me the leak was a figment of my imagination, had me sign the work order, and left. Two days later, the ceiling in the kitchen started leaking every time we ran the washer (and it still does). I never knew I had such a good imagination! I still haven't broken down and called that stupid fuck back. Fucking Germans.

Anyway, I'm getting off on a tangent. My refrigerator went out yesterday. I noticed it because I wanted some ice cream, and when my husband went to open the container, it was a huge melted mess. Because it was 8pm, DPW was closed (they close at like noon). When this happens, the Fire Department is in charge (yeah, doesn't that make a whole bunch of fucking sense?). So I called 117, which I thought would get me in touch with the Vilseck Fire Department. It actually rang through to Graf, another military post 20 minutes away. I told him the problem, and he said I would have to come pick up another fridge from his facility. I asked him why it was my responsibility to come do it if it was their job in the first place. He said in a very thick, annoying German accent, "I only have four fire fighters. If human life is at stake, I cannot have one of them bring you the fridge. You must call Vilseck." So I called Vilseck. They told me to call Graf. When I explained what the guy in Graf said, the guy sighed and told me he could do nothing about it. So I called Graf. He explained the four fire fighter thing again (you know, because Americans are stupid), and said I would have to come get it myself. Now, I have a Ford Explorer XLT, or whatever the abbreviation for "Super Huge" is. I could have gotten in the truck and driven the 20 minutes to get the fridge. However, because this is THEIR responsibility, I was being stubborn. I didn't want to spend $10 worth of gas to drive to Graf and back when they were the ones that issued this piece of shit fridge to me in the first place. I hung up on him while he was still talking and screamed. Thank god for my husband...he called the fucker back. The guy said, "Ok, I will call the electrician". An hour later, we had a temporary refrigerator. WHAT THE FUCK?????

I actually work for a German company that is shitty too. I've been so tempted to quit just on principle. They change their policies to suit them, not the customer. Someone just turned in a sleeping bag to get cleaned a few weeks ago....It was in perfect condition when we sent it to the plant to be washed. When it came back, the sleeping bag was torn down the side (we're talking a huge tear, people). When my friend and co-worker called the plant, they said, "Well, you didn't mark on the form that it was in perfect condition, so we aren't responsible for it". All along, the policy has been to write down if there are any tears...Not if it is in perfect condition. Our manager had the nerve to ask if one of our husbands could turn it in for a new one!! AGAIN, not our responsibility!!!

Get me the fuck out of here.