Remember

I've had ideas rolling around in my head about what I wanted to say about Memorial Day, but nothing I verbalize can add to the richness that this holiday stands for.

So, I found this video that I think really captures the reason Memorial Day exists. Minus the "Happy Veterans Day" at the end, this video is really fitting.

Today especially, take a moment to remember the men and women who have died in pursuit of freedom and justice.

Dang

They look like real birds now! I seriously can't believe how fast they've grown:



Just a reminder of how they looked FOUR days ago:



And seven days before that:

Update

Can you believe it's only been a week since I took the last picture of these little cuties? They have feathers already! And I read that they should be leaving the nest in the next week or so. (How is that possible?)



Oh, by the way...I've consistently counted ten little birds. I don't know if there is an eleventh sneaking in some warmth under the others, or if only ten birdies hatched. But I'll letchya know.

I don't care either.

Blogging about baby birds and my dogs has been so much easier than blogging about war and politics lately. I've had so much on my plate (who doesn't?), and sometimes what is going on in the world is too depressing to even think about, much less write about. However, that doesn't necessarily mean I've lost the spark. So here we go.

I received the following email from Kelly today. I couldn't have said it better than Doug Patton, the writer (well, the email said the author was Pam Foster, but this said otherwise). Anyway, I would have probably thrown in the f-word a few times, or used un-PC names in place of "terrorists" or "fanatics" or "prisoners". At any rate, here it is. Hope you enjoy it (and this is actually an excerpt; you can see the full article here):

Are we fighting a war on terror or aren't we? Was it or was it not started by Islamic people who brought it to our shores on September 11, 2001? Were people from all over the world, mostly Americans, not brutally murdered that day, in downtown Manhattan, across the Potomac from our nation's capitol and in a field in Pennsylvania? Did nearly three thousand men, women and children die a horrible, burning or crushing death that day, or didn't they?

And I'm supposed to care that a copy of the Koran was "desecrated" when an overworked American soldier kicked it or got it wet? Well, I don't. I don't care at all.

I'll start caring when Osama bin Laden turns himself in and repents for incinerating all those innocent people on 9/11.

I'll care about the Koran when the fanatics in the Middle East start caring about the Holy Bible, the mere possession of which is a crime in Saudi Arabia.

I'll care when Abu Musab al-Zarqawi tells the world he is sorry for hacking off Nick Berg's head while Berg screamed through his gurgling, slashed throat.

I'll care when the cowardly so-called "insurgents" in Iraq come out and fight like men instead of disrespecting their own religion by hiding in mosques.

I'll care when the mindless zealots who blow themselves up in search of nirvana care about the innocent children within range of their suicide bombs.

I'll care when the American media stops pretending that their First Amendment liberties are somehow derived from international law instead of the United States Constitution's Bill of Rights.

In the meantime, when I hear a story about a brave Marine roughing up an Iraqi terrorist to obtain information, know this: I don't care.

When I see a fuzzy photo of a pile of naked Iraqi prisoners who have been humiliated in what amounts to a college hazing incident, rest assured that I don't care.

When I see a wounded terrorist get shot in the head when he is told not to move because he might be booby-trapped, you can take it to the bank that I don't care.

When I hear that a prisoner, who was issued a Koran and a prayer mat, and fed "special" food that is paid for by my tax dollars, is complaining that his holy book is being "mishandled," you can absolutely believe in your heart of hearts that I don't care.

And oh, by the way, I've noticed that sometimes it's spelled"Koran" and other times "Quran." Well, Jimmy Crack Corn and- - - you got it, I DON'T CARE!

I can't believe it

I've made Susan and Kelly both come over to try to steal a glimpse of the new babies in my mailbox, but one or both of the parents is always in there. I cannot believe I actually scored this picture! They are about the size of the tip of my pinky finger...and their little wings are so damn cute!

Fort Hood

I've been avoiding everyone's emails lately, partially because I haven't had the answer to the question everyone wants to know: Where are you getting stationed and when?

I freakin' hated that question until today. We'll be residents of Texas as of November. Yay!

Mom

To great moms everywhere (especially mine):



Check out this HA-larious Mother's Day clip via The Girl.

Copy Cat

Heidi and Nicole have both done this, and as much as I don't "know" them, I still had a memory of each of them. So I'm looking forward to memories that you might have of me. Fun times:

Leave one memory of you and I together as a comment on my page--it doesn't matter if I know you a little or a lot, anything you remember! Don't write to me, leave a comment. Next, repost this bulletin and see how many people leave a memory about you.....I hope you'll play along :)

Poor Lew

Scout and I decided to shave Lewis today. What a brilliant idea.

We did have some reasons for this decision, although looking back on it, we should have thought about it a little more.

We have friends that just shaved their yellow lab, and she looks great. However, we failed to consider that Lewis is actually half Springer Spaniel, so his hair isn't necessarily the same as a full bred Labrador (and all of his hair is white underneath!).

Also, Lewis sheds hair like a snake sheds skin...so sweeping is an everyday chore (well, I don't know how often a snake sheds skin, but whatever). This was actually our best reason for shaving Lewis...and I'm almost positive he won't be shedding any time soon.

So, enjoy the pictures of my formerly cute dog.

Once we started, we obviously couldn't stop:

More Lew

He's not embarrassed, but we sure are:

Bird Pictures

Our old mailbox, their new home:

They are so much cuter in person, but you get the picture:

Yeah, and I went off-post for some wild bird food (after doing some research on what wild finches eat), and the lady made me feel like an idiot. She said, "You can't feed wild birds! You will kill them!" Ok, lady. Tell that to all the senior citizens in America...they didn't get the memo.

Birds

We have new house guests...In our mailbox.

Ever since we've lived here, our mailbox has had a rectangular hole where our name is supposed to be. Well, a finch decided it would be a good place to build a family, and uses the hole as her front door. We have been thrilled to have her.

At first, we just thought she (or he) was cold, and needed a place to stay (we obviously know nothing about the mating habits of birds). The nest was coming along fabulously...I even ripped up some scratch paper to help her with the building materials. Now, there are eleven tiny little eggs nestled in the middle of her perfect home. Occasionally, we will open the top and find her looking up at us. But it wasn't until yesterday that we actually saw that she was expecting.

So now, I'm faced with a dilemma. The mailbox opens from the top, and I'm terrified that the German postman will unknowingly drop junk mail in on top of her. Since we never actually receive anything important (we haven't gotten our phone bill in the three years we've lived here), I don't want some furniture store advertisement to destroy her happy little family. I've thought about taping the top closed and leaving a note for the postman. But I don't speak enough German to do this. And, is this super-tacky?

Can anyone help? Sarah? Vonn? CaliValleyGirl?

Here's kind of what I want to say:

Dear Postman:

There is a bird nest inside of this mailbox. Please do not leave any mail here (all the mail we depend on goes to a different address). Thank you, The McGuires.

I might be able to handle the last part on my own... :)

Also, for you non-German speaking people like me, I wouldn't mind some input. If you think this is totally stupid, tell me. I probably won't listen, but most of you know how I am about animals.

Also, I would post pictures, but my camera is at work. Naturally.

I wonder if I could convince Scout to keep one of the babies. Hee hee.

Sweet Sarah

Dear Sarah,

To this day, I still regret some of the ways I handled my wedding. I had most of my friends and family gathered in one place, and didn't take the opportunity to tell each one of them what they meant to me. I didn't want to be the teary-eyed bride, so I avoided saying mushy things. I don' t know why I ever thought there was anything wrong with that.

Luckily, I tend to learn from my mistakes. So now, because I have the opportunity, I want to tell you what you mean to me. I still can't believe you're leaving Germany.

When I met you in the recycling class, I had no idea how fortunate I was about to become. If I would have had a glimpse of our future as friends, I probably wouldn't have blabbed so much during our first conversation. I would have called you sooner...I would have run into you intentionally.

You always made me smile when you came through "my" line at the commissary. That was such a crap job, and you were so good at distracting me from it for the short time you were there buying groceries. I always admired your cute hats (it was freaking cold that winter!)...and I never could have imagined back then that you actually knitted them yourself!

When you and I had our first discussion about politics, I was so excited that we shared common ground. I felt at home when I was with you. I was so amped when you shared your blog with me. When you and I would sit at Quartermaster and talk about something you had posted, I remember getting all worked up about some of the commenters. Even though I spoke in a jumbled mess, you seemed to know exactly what I was talking about (and you would summarize it beautifully).

To this day, I feel sorry for people who don't know you (more specifically, mean commenters on your site). When they make assumptions about you based on one post you've written, I just shake my head. I used to get all upset and want to find their address so I could show up at their doorstep and kick the sh...Well, nevermind. But now, I seriously think...Dang, that poor bastard doesn't know what he's missing out on. Seriously. Anyone would be lucky to know you.

I was concerned about introducing you and Kelly. I thought you guys would hit it off, but you know how some friends just don't click? I knew there was a possibility of that. Fortunately, it went our way. The three of us just fit together like puzzle pieces. No one could have planned something so perfect. So many things the three of us did together...knitting those self-striping socks, birthday dinners, deployment crappiness...eating meatballs at IKEA, Poland (smuggling Foxy over the border...we're such criminals!), the birth of four puppies, Thanksgiving.

And speaking of illegal activities...Seriously, if I had to choose to be in a Polish jail for the rest of my life, I would choose you and Kelly to share that time with. But I love that you've never even smoked a cigarette, and you were willing to be an accomplice in illegally smuggling a three-legged-raunchy dog to Germany....And then when we found out together that she was pregnant and saw those cute little unborn puppies moving around on the ultrasound, you made me believe that it was going to be ok.

I'm going to miss so many things about you. Like the way you don't like chewing gum (I'll never forget the time you asked me for a piece and then spit it out 30 seconds later). The way you talk to Charlie like he's human. Some of the words you use, like "gi-normous." The way you actually rinse out cans before you recycle them. The way your eyes twinkle when you laugh at the jokes Russ makes. The way you are so smart, but never snotty about it...How I can call you and ask how to cite a source in APA format that isn't listed in my guide...and you actually know the answer. The way you live life deliberately, with a plan. The way you speak six languages (even if you won't admit to it in front of other people). The way you tell stories. The way you wear sneakers around the house. And the way that you think my bruschetta is so awesome.

I'm dreading the day you leave. But I'm allowing myself to be a mushy mess. But with a friend like you, who wouldn't be?

After saying all that, I still don't think it summarizes how I feel about our friendship. This is all fun stuff to remember, but it doesn't even begin to skim the surface. A part of me is leaving with you...And that part of me will be with you at WalMart. Every.Single.Time.

Thank you for making me a better person, Sarah. I'm going miss you terribly.

Erin