New Scent

So I was sitting at work, minding my own business, and I caught a whiff of something absolutely terrible. I stuck my nose down into my tan T-shirt to make sure it wasn't me. And it sure was me. It smelled like oranges and piss.

I looked at the Staff Sergeant sitting across from me and said, "My shirt smells like oranges and piss."

To which he responded, "Is that a new Tide scent? I tried mountain spring and shit once and I didn't like it."

Epic.

Dracula, Bwa ha ha!

There has been a new edition to the DeGraf / Buckley homestead. Meet Dracula!

I know, I know. She's so flippin' adorable and tiny! How could I have given her such an ominous and dark name? Well, she may look innocent, but she's packing a grill full of razor wire in that tiny mouth.

She appeared out of no where in the middle of the night. Just like a spooky vampire story.

We were having a party with the garage door open. The kitten crashed our party and instantly won me over with her cuteness. Her tiny meow was all I had to hear to know I had to have her. I begged James to let me keep her. He was standing his ground firmly to keep the house feline-free.

I brought the kitten in the house anyway.

I knew in order to smuggle the kitten into permanent pet-hood I would have to integrate her into a friendly relationship with Picasso. Getting James to go along with my scheme would be much easier. It turned out Picasso really liked the kitten. But the feelings were not mutual. The kitten reacted to Picasso in such a frenzy of fur and claws that she accidentally bit two boys (one happened to be James-- poor choice, kitty).

She drew blood.

I made the excuses that they just needed time to get to know one another and everything would work out just fine. James wasn't buying it and told me to put the kitten outside. I sadly did put the kitten out. But the next morning I woke up to tiny meows outside my bedroom window.

Now she's our pet. Our pet Dracula.

Obama Is My Homeboy

After the much anticipated slaying of Osama bin Laden, President Obama came to Fort Campbell, Kentucky to talk to and to congratulate the Soldiers. It was a pretty small gathering of Soldiers chosen to hear the president speak, and what do you know? I got chosen to go!

Air Force 1 loomed over the air field on Fort Campbell as we entered the hangar where we were to hear the president speak. It was standing room only by the time I arrived. Approximately 800 Soldiers sat in bleachers and crowded around the tiny stage at the front.

I waited 2 hours. There is always a lot of unnecessary waiting when it comes to any Army operation. The hangar doors closed, we all cheered. We waiting another hour. 800 breathing, stinking Soldiers wallowing in their own sweat. When President Obama finally entered the stage, he wasn't wearing his suit jacket. I wished I could downgrade my jacket!

President Obama spoke to us about how proud he is to be in command of the World's greatest military. He promised a withdrawal of 100,000 Soldiers out of Afghanistan this autumn. He pumped us up and motivated us.  It was so cool to get to hear my Commander In Chief speak. It was the first time I'd ever been in the presence of any president.

After he was done with his speech, he came closer to the crowd. A lot of Soldiers turned and tried to get out of the stifling hot hangar leaving a ton of open space near President Obama. Always the opportunist, I marched myself right up to the side of the stage, extended my hand and what do you know? He grasped it. He looked at me, smiled and said, "Thank you for your service."

Nashville, TN

James and I went to Nashville for a couple's retreat put on by the Army. We had an evening away from class and were told to go do a relationship building activity. Well, I don't know if you've been watching the Weather Channel lately, but Tennessee is getting fucked up by tornadoes and thunderstorms. So instead of going to the zoo or to a mini golf course and risk being blown away or struck by lightening, we bar hopped in downtown Nashville.

And I got HAMMERED. 6 hours of continuous drinking will do that.

I haven't been that drunk in public since the last time I went to Las Vegas. If that is any kind of gauge, you should be impressed-- I was a hot mess. I won't get into the details to save my mom the embarrassment of having raised a drunk, but let me just say, there was hysterical laughter, low crawling and vomit.

Lots and lots of vomit.

We had a really good time. I'm not quite sure the chaplain really meant for us to go get black out drunk as a relationship building exercise, but hey, every couple is different.

Hiatus

Please forgive my temporary leave of absence. I am compiling all my blog entries (along with some filler) from my latest Iraq deployment to write a book. So updating the blog is going to fall to the way side unless something truly hilarious or incredible happens. Wish me luck on the book thing, I might just need it.

New Carpet

We had new carpet installed in the living room and hallway on Friday. It has a subtle diamond pattern running through it. It looks so much better than the cheap tan apartment quality carpet that the previous owners had through out the entire house. New carpet in the master bedroom is next on the list of flooring improvements.

House On A Lake

I love my house. I love love love it!

I never thought owning a home would be something that I would enjoy. Especially owning a home with a really big yard. I've never had an interest in gardening, and now that I have a home, I suddenly have green thumbs! I've planted bushes and flowers. Grass seed has been laid and bushes have been shaped and trimmed. I like to lovingly look at my yard and make plans on what I want to do next to improve it.

However, when it rains, my backyard takes on quite a different look.



The backyard when it's sunny.

The backyard on the lake.

If I had any plans to do something spectacular with the far end of the backyard, I most certainly do not anymore. There is a drainage ditch from the street running along the side of my yard, and then the neighbors have the neighborhood drain in their backyard. So when it rains too much for the drain to keep up, it floods the back yards. No wooden fences for us. No big vegetable gardens for us. No dog kennel in the back for us.

Luckily the yard is huge (absolutely a riding lawn mower is a necessity) and I can spare that part of yard to be an occasional lake. Maybe my house would appraise for more if the appraiser came on a day when my property was lake front!?



Government Shut Down

Government shut down? As in, I still have to report to work like normal but I don't receive a paycheck for doing so? The government better get their shit together and make some decisions on the budget, because my personal budget requires a paycheck every 15 days.

Mouse In My House

There is a mouse in my house. I thought I saw one run across my kitchen floor out of the corner of my eye a few days ago, but I dismissed it. I've never had a mouse in my house before so I didn't think it could happen to me.

But he's definitely here.

I'm not afraid of mice. I actually think they're really cute. But the discovery of this mouse did make me scream like a little girl.

As I was lifting the garbage bag out of the garbage can, the mouse sprung out from a hole he had chewed in the bag. He landed on my boot (as I was in uniform). I screamed. Picasso came running. The mouse took off. In a black blur of mouse, he scampered under my washer and has not been seen since. And Picasso did nothing. Apparently mouse hunting is not a skill set he possesses.

I found evidence under the kitchen sink that the mouse has been sharing our house for a while. He left poo all over under there. Yuck! I wish I could have no regard for where I poo.

I wonder how the mouse got into my garbage can in the first place. The can is a metal cylinder. With a lid. I wonder if I accidentally threw away the mouse in the past couple days? Did I pick him up? Has there been a mouse hanging out in my garbage and Picasso didn't even notice him moving around in there?

As cute as he may be (if I ever got to see more of him than just a blur), he can't stay. I told James to get traps. I suggested humane traps. He said, "The kind that snap?" So...  I guess we're going to end up killing the little guy. I figured since he had the ability to Houdini into the garbage can, we could spare his life. Poor little mouse in my house.

Nails 88

Long story short, James needed me to urgently meet him half way between our house and Fort Campbell. So as I'm tearing down the road, he calls me to confirm the rendezvous point.

James: "Where are you?"

Me: "By the nail salon in that stupid strip mall in the middle of no where."

James: "The one that looks like a penis?"

So let me explain that. This is what the sign looks like outside the nail salon:

Since we were in a hurry, I just agreed that, yes, I was near the nail salon that looked like a penis. I could see why he suggested that. But I never previously thought the sign resembled a penis. Every time I passed it, I thought about the KKK.

Perhaps that needs some explanation as well. We've been watching a lot of shows about prison lately. And a lot of prisoners join gangs for protection while they're locked up. A popular choice is the Skin Heads. These prisoners get all kinds of tattoos all over their bodies declaring their loyalty to hating everyone who isn't  a white redneck. One such tattoo is a "88" which stands for Hail Hitler (the letter "H" being the 8th letter of the alphabet). So I pass this nail salon every day and all I can think about is Hitler getting his nails done there.

Which brings me back to a previous blog about that van that I see all over Clarksville. The one that I swear says "Hitler" all over it with the smiley faces. What is really going on here? What kind of town do I really live in? Shits getting raw, that's for sure.