I need to come clean, be honest and get some things off my chest. The comments section is open for you to do the same…. we can start with the fact that until college I’d never slept in the top bunk of a bunk bed. Not that I hadn’t been given the opportunity – nor did it stop me from begging for bunk beds as a child- but I was too scared I’ll fall out of bed and squish my face on a bedside table on the way down. Which means any time I claimed the coveted top bunk, I ultimately (sheepishly) asked to trade with the bottom bunk dweller about ten minutes in. Then in college I loss the freshman roommate coin toss and ended up in the top bunk. I forced a furniture rearrangement (I needed a clear, flat space to inevitably fall onto, in order to keep my face squishing to a minimum) and I slept flattened against (practically hugging- the finger holds are probably still there in the wall) the cinder-block wall for the first two weeks, terrified of my inevitable tumble. I never did fall out of bed… but our bedside tables were awkwardly arranged for the remainder of the year,  just in case.

I hate the beach. There, I said it. Sand is gross, salt water makes me feel grimy, and there is never any shade where I want it. The sun is too bright to read a book (hello glare!) and jelly fish hurt. I prefer the open ocean (snorkling is fun!), a blue lake from a boat, or a lovely pool. Do not make me sit in the sand and pretend to have fun. I am not having fun. I’m counting the grains of sand stuck to my left foot, I’m sweaty, and I’m generally counting the hours until we can leave and go sit by the pool.

I’m a paper-towel abuser. I think paper towels are the answer to any life messes. Spill a gallon of milk? That is what an entire roll of paper towels is for! When I go home to visit,  my Mother inevitably announces how many rolls of paper towels she has (typically hovering around a measly “2″) and informs me she isn’t buying any more while I’m there- followed by the evil eye and the admonishing phrase “So use sparingly.” I don’t understand this mentality at all. She buys paper towel rolls in the duo pack. I buy mine in a 38 pack. I will gladly use a roll of paper towels to “mop” my kitchen floor, to clean out the car, to keep the counters clean. Sponges are little bacteria-homes & the energy it takes to wash & dry sopping wet dishtowels (I spill a lot, ok?), not to mention tomato sauce & the like just doesn’t come out of my dish towels- well, I argue that my method is just as environmentally friendly. So there.

I’m terrified of heights. I really needn’t elaborate, other than to say: NO, I’m not climbing up there. My brother has an equally phobic fear of spiders, and frankly, we are ok with these phobias. I’m not afraid of sharks, flying, bees or any of those things, so I’ll take my fear of heights & deal with it. From the ground, where I’m nice and safe.

I hate flossing my teeth. I probably only do it once a week. I have very nice teeth & very few cavities, so all I have to say is: meh. The rest of you are lying when you say you floss twice a day. LYING.

I’m not comfortable driving or riding in an automobile traveling faster than 75 mph. A fun combination of my first responder training, a tour of the Chicago morgue on a Saturday morning after a few high speed vehicle crashes the night before, and a few well-timed drivers education/auto safety videos and I prefer to stay at 75 mph or under, thank you very much. The fact that my Dad drives our cars as though they are F-16′s (Hint: They are not) does nothing to help my feelings on this, hurtling through canyons in the middle of nowhere.

I’m terrified of wrinkles & age spots and thus I exfoliate, moisturize and sunscreen myself up every single day. Yes, I look like Casper. Yes, my skin is as delicate as a magnolia blossom. Mock all you want when I join you at the pool with my cover-up and large straw hat, huge sunglasses and SPF 75, but one day, when we are 65 and I have to show proof of being eligible for the senior citizen discount, you won’t be laughing any more. In the interim, please do not open my cosmetics drawer unless you wish to be astounded by the lotions, potions & general sundry I own to keep mah face a-glowing, my hands smooth & my arms soft as butter.

I wear moccasins more than is fashionable or appropriate. Please advise.

For those who don’t know, November 11 is Veterans Day.* For most people out there this means that it is either a day you get off work (yay!) or a day you don’t get off work but it seems like all your friends do, ergo you are totally missing out. 

*(In other rememberances, this week also marks the anniversary of the sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald , the birthday of the United States Marine Corp, and what should have been the second birthday of Madeline Spohr.)

For me, it means something a little different. I grew up the daughter of a US military officer- United States Air Force to be exact. Two of my Uncles attended West Point & I have another family member becoming a plebe there this summer. (Go Army! Beat Navy!) If I ever filled out my paperwork, I’d be a Daughter of the American Revolution. My Grandfather is a genealogist and has determined our ancestors fought with George Washington before the American Revolution. My Mother’s father served in the Pacific Theatre during WWII on ship that held prisoners of war. B’s grandfather served in Korea and still won’t speak about what he saw- other than to say he ate a lot of fish. Suffice to say, military history and tradition hold strong around these parts. Of course Veterans Day is celebrated at Armistice Day for much of the world- after all on the 11th hour, on the 11th day of the 11th month the armistice  that ended WWI was signed.

It is a day a day to be dedicated to the cause of world peace and to be thereafter celebrated and known as Veteran’s Day.

At my wedding there were four toasts. And the first toast went something like this:

“The proper way to toast to someone who is present, such as the bride and groom, would be to respond to the toast with ‘here here’. If we decided to toast the governor of the great state of Georgia, as he isn’t here, we’d respond to the toast with ‘to the Governor’.  And as many of you here know, we have more than one family here, and one of them is composed of retired military members who served our country.  For all of us who served, we have many brothers and sisters still serving our country in a time of war. One of the bridesmaids has a father in Afghanistan right now. We all have friends who didn’t return, and so tonight I ask our first toast be with a glass of water, and we honor our country men who didn’t return.”

 

With that, glasses were raised, and before the festivities began, we toasted:

 

” To our departed brothers”