Chess To The Death

We were in Galveston, a Texas seaside town on the Gulf of Mexico, a few weeks ago for a little pre vacation vacation. We both needed a chance to get a base coat of tan in before the main tanning event the following week, and we figured we only had a small window of opportunity before the oil made it that way. We saw houses on stilts, the high water mark from when Hurricane Ike tore through and I spent a small fortune on sunscreen.

We also found this huge chess set in the middle of Downtown Tourist-Central Galveston. It was about 178 degrees that day and the humidity was roughly a thousand, but because we're both head strong eldest children who can't turn down a chance to compete at something we played a game.......to the death.

We take our games very seriously.

Every night after dinner, we play a round of Tetris to determine whose going to do the dishes.

Now it may SEEM like he has the advantage on account of the fact that he's been playing chess competitively since before he could walk, but I have raw, untutored talent on my side.

That and my lovely, stubborn insistence that everyone finds so attractive.

I shrank his shirt in one of many laundry related disasters.

It may be hard for you to tell, but for your information, since you weren't there, and there were no witnesses...... I won!!!

Just kidding! We quit half way through and went to get ice cream. Besides being bossy eldest children, we also have short attention spans and nonstop vacation ice cream cravings. And a fear of tan lines. Did I mention we're from California?

Topsey's Exotic Ranch, Adults Only

A hundred and one years ago, Munoz had a nice long 4 day weekend. Well actually, that happens pretty frequently. They get more 4 day weekends than anyone else in the world, except maybe the French. And in celebration of this fairly common event we decided to go out into the world and see what we could find. Little did we know, that we were about to spend the best 20 bucks ever. Honestly, it was better than the 20 we had to pay for our marriage license.

Allow me to introduce all y'all to Topsey's Exotic Ranch and Drive Thru Safari, located conveniently just on the outskirts of the country bumpkin town we live in!

The tigers were kind of a buzz kill.

How To Decorate Cakes When You're Awesome

So 100 years ago, we had our first widdle one year anniversary! It was lots and lots and lots of fun. There was plenty of reminiscing, and ink jet printed cards and lovey doveyness. There was also plenty of cake. Some people may consider a 9 inch double layer Lemon Spice Cake with Lemon Cream Cheese Frosting too much for two people who are carb sensitive and prone to fatness of the face, but luckily neither one of us married anyone like that.

Fun Face Fatness Fact

Today the guard at the West Fort Hood gate asked me to take off my sunglasses because he didn't believe that my military ID picture and my human face matched. And then he said,

"Wow, is that really you?! That's not a very good picture."

True story.

Back to the cake..... here's a picture of the luscious Lemon Spice cake that I made from scratch and then frosted lovingly and professionally:

Isn't that nice? Lovely, refined, respectable, subtle and very posh. The perfect way to celebrate a pretty crazy one year journey into adulthood, marriage, responsibilities, taking out the trash, paying all of our own bills, making sure the doors locked at night and closing the fridge when we're not actively getting something out (we're still working on that one).

Very Better Homes and Garden, if I do say so myself.

As I was patting myself on the back, picturing a future spread in Martha Stewart Magazine, a small thought with a small voice made itself known in my head.

"What if there was more?" the small voice said.

And before I could get ahold of myself, I was on the phone to my sister (not this one, the other one) whose very poor and yet somewhat awesome advice led me to to do this:

And this:

And this:

And also this:

And I believe the conversation went something like this:

Me: "Hey I made a cake and I think it needs just a little something extra on top. I have strawberries, coconut flakes, mint leaves, food coloring and icing.

Which one should I use?"

Sister: "You made a whole cake just for the two of you?

Are you trying to win a couples Fat Face Contest?"

"NO! IT'S OUR FIRST ANNIVERSARY, STUPID."

"Oh. You should use ALL OF THEM."

And that's all the direction I needed.

Now I remember clearly discussing restraint in art school. I remember talking about how sometimes, a little is just enough, and how you can make a stronger statement by using a lighter touch, if everything is a 10 then no one notices, but if somethings are a 2 then the 10 gets proper attention and so on and so forth and whatnot etc.

That's all very well and good, but when it comes to frosting, I'm more of a Dr. Suess disciple.

The Dr. Suess School of Thought goes something like this:

More is more, and more is better so everything needs to be at an 11 or crazier if at all possible. And if you happen to appreciate the aesthetic of 14 year old girls who are in love with their algebra teachers (HI MR. CARCICH!!!!!), then GO WITH IT.

Here's what our cake looked like a mere 18 hours later:

Honestly, I'm surprised it lasted that long.

This Makes Me Schmile

I have to go do laundry by myself today:(

Usually, we go together as a little laundry team on Friday night. That's right, we're like those kids who do their homework on Friday because they like the feeling of having the whole weekend open up in front them, free of obligation. Those kids usually don't have many friends.

We don't have many friends here either, and come to think of it my husband did spend a huge amount of time this weekend watching Frontline documentaries on subjects too boring even for me. I'm sorry, "over the counter derivatives?" COME ON, YOU GUYS.

See, he's those kids. I'm super cool.

I'm all for a good documentary, but there'd better be some cute animals, fat people, circle of life bloodshed or historical battle reenactments, AT LEAST.

Okay, actually, we might both be those kids.

We're just exceedingly boring in a town that doesn't serve hard alcohol, ANYWHERE. Seriously, even the "liquor" stores here only have beer and wine. There's a plethora of places to wash your own car though, so I guess that means something.

Anyways, the laundry needs to get done, but I just don't know how I'm going to accomplish it without my laundry "battle buddy" as they say in the Army. It's an exceedingly cute term meant to encourage camaraderie and personal accountability for your peers. For example if your fellow soldier is about to drive drunk, as a good battle buddy, you're supposed to stop him/her. If your fellow soldier is contemplating suicide, as a good battle buddy, you're supposed to, you know, not let them borrow your M9.

My laundry battle buddy's job is to save my seat on the far side of the laundromat away from the door and with the best view of the TV. He's in charge of watching my purse and not touching the bleach. He's responsible for going to get change from the change machine because it sounds like a slot machine and I get embarrassed. He's the one that tries to beat my high score at BrickBreaker, the funnest Blackberry phone game ever. DREAM ON, LOSER.

He's totally essential to the whole operation.

There is an upside to this situation. I may be minus a battle buddy, but my patience won't be severely tested by having to watch someone FOLD EVERYTHING THE WRONG WAY.

By the way, the elephant and the trampoline is unrelated. He just makes me schmile (smile pronounced cutely). I used him to trick you into reading a few paragraphs on laundry. Maybe you thought that I'd cleverly weave him into the plot of this exciting drama.....well, you've been had. SORRY, SUCKER.

I Miss Arizona

I ABSOLUTELY DEMAND TO BE TAKEN BACK TO CANELO, ARIZONA WHERE THERE ARE SMALL ANIMALS TO FEED, POOFY CLOUDS TO ADMIRE AND YELLOW HORSES TO BE IN MY FIELD.

I'm sorry Texas, I really am. I tried my best, but this just isn't working for me. Think of the small animals, they need to be fed. It's not you, it's me. I'm just not ready for a serious commitment right now and it wouldn't be fair to either of us. I had hoped maybe we could make the best of this situation, but wishin' ain't doin'. IF I HEAR "MA'AM" ONE MORE FREAKIN' TIME...

70 Million by Hold Your Horses

70 Million by Hold Your Horses ! from L'Ogre on Vimeo.

The Fake Boob

Aside from some wonderful gossip, the most emotionally charged bumper stickers ever invented and a rock climbing wall the Army also provides us with a really rocking health care plan. It's the kind of health care that rich people and Canadians have, maybe even better. So far I've seen three doctors, one of them twice and have appointments to see two more in the coming months. Seeing a doctor is like going to the movies for me now, it's become a form of much needed entertainment.

And the best part is its all free. No co-pay, no deductible, nothing. I just have to show up with my magic ID card and smile.

So the before last trip to the Military Treatment Facility (MTF) was to see my Primary Care Manager (my general, everyday use doctor), Dr. Herna Llamas. She is small like a Hobbit and has some kind of accent. For some reason I trust foreigners more than the average American, and so I liked her immediately.

When you sign up with TriCare, which is what this whole situation is called, you get to pick a plan (small, medium or large health care please). I chose large or Prime as they call it, because we live close to a base so doctors within the TriCare network are easy to come by. If I lived in the jungle or Puerto Rico or somewhere, I may have chosen medium or small so that I could see whatever doctor was available to me, voodoo shaman, network provider or not.

With Prime you also pick a Primary Care Manager (PCM) to be your go-to doctor. So anything at all that goes wrong with me, I see my PCM first and then she is either able to treat it herself or refer me to another health care provider who specializes in whatever kind of problem I have. As long as I follow that order of operations, everything is 100% covered, as in we pay zero.

Well I don't know about EVERYTHING, but anything with in a normal range of things that could go wrong with me is covered. I'm sure if I needed CNN's Dr. Sanjay Gupta for neurosurgery or Extreme Makeover plastic reconstruction surgery then someone would have to pay something.

Anyways a few weeks ago I was at the MTF to see my little PCM for a ________. During the ________ she's trying to get me to _____ and so while my ____ are in the ________ she asks me where _________ is and then when I tell her, "Ummmm, __________?", she says "Oh! ______? Yes? I know ______, all of the movie stars are living there and they have the beautiful bodies and ok you can take your ____ and _____ it down ______ oh, okay very nice, good."

Once I am clothed in more than just a paper napkin again, she turns to me wanting to talk about self breast exams. My policy on self breast exams is that they will be done about once every so often when I both remember and feel like it. Much like my policy on flossing.

However my policy concerning both the Dentist and the Doctor is to inflate the frequency of these actions so as to not seem irresponsible or stupid.

Only this time she saw right through me. This time she reached into her secret drawer and pulled out a MINI FAKE BOOB and said I could take it home with me! Is this the BEST health care system in the WORLD or what?!

Naturally I raced home and hung it off the one bedpost that's currently being topped by a wine cork.

The cork is on there to protect my Army Husband from accidentally impaling his eyeball on the huge dangerous screw that sticks out of the top of that particular post while he's fumbling around in the dark trying to get dressed in the morning.

Doesn't that sound ominous?

ONE LUMP CAN BE FELT.

THE OTHER CAN ONLY BE SEEN.

Like its a vampire lump starring with Kristin Stewart in the next Dark Moon sequel.

Maybe thats just me.

It is possible that this is way funnier to me than other people, but I'm going to continue regardless.

Here's the backside. Its a step by step diagram of how to give yourself a breast exam. Complete with a pretty racy illustration.

Here's a close up of the self examinee. It's like a soft core porn illustration with medical overtones. I imagine night orderlies at dingy hospitals are into this sort of thing.

Just imagine if everyone had a health care plan like mine! We'd all have access to mini fake boobs and borderline inappropriate cartoons and small foreign doctors and the world would be a happy, healthy place. Yay!

Now because I've been such a GIRL lately, my overall motivation has ideologically shifted. These days I operate mostly on presents and/or the promise of presents as opposed to values and/or morals. Basically, I can be bought.

Whether Dr. Llamas knew this about me or not, her small present was just what the doctor ordered (teehee). Now if only the dentist could get his act together. If I could bring home like a bisected tooth model, I'd be much more excited about flossing.

Another Heart Warming Tale of Love and Devotion

Brought to you by me, via Ms. Vicky:

___________________________________

Hi Vicki,

"My niece is in the military and she’s scheduled to go on her second deployment sometime this year. My concern is with her ex-boyfriend who is the father of her son.

"He’s been living with a married woman whose husband is deployed and will return in the next month or so. From the information I received, this isn't his first indiscretion.

"I'm somewhat in awe that he would disrupt the camaraderie that Soldiers have among themselves. And this guy is proud to call himself a Soldier!

"This lady is going to ask her husband for a divorce when he gets home from deployment. I can't imagine what this fellow Soldier will endure when he’s informed of her actions.

"Besides disrupting his son's life what will he do to his fellow Soldier’s life? Is there and disciplinary action that the military can take?"

Sincerely,

A concerned aunt

_____________________________________________

Oh! The twisted web of lies and deceit! The Niece, the Son, the Baby Daddy, the Other Woman and the Other Woman's Husband! Three of them are soldiers!

I don't know why exactly, although I have some educated guesses, but infidelity like this runs rampant in Military culture. As we were having French toast for lunch today (we have very sophisticated palates), I heard yet another story that will end in divorce. It's completely unsettling, and makes me want to play the denial game even harder.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go paint my nails and watch Marie Antoinette while pretending that my marriage isn't statistically doomed to fail because I agreed to marry a man set on joining the stupid military. Thats right, I said STUPID.

Hibernation

Today, as predicted by our weather system and my father, it snowed. And I, as predicted by me, hibernated for the majority of the day. Much like the monks who take vows of silence, I too have made a commitment. Except mine is to not ever being unnecessarily cold or uncomfortable.

This snowstorm was a little more intense than the Horrible Freeze, which can be viewed here. I enjoyed looking at them both through the window in my pajamas.

Actually neither one would be classified as a snowstorm unless you're from Southern California, in which case today was an Catastrophic Apocalyptic Blizzard. Best to stay indoors, and under blankets if possible.

Several people have warned me to stay off the roads and to exercise extreme caution when driving. Thank you for your concern people, but it is entirely unfounded. I have decided to spend the entirety of this Winter season indoors, and to venture out only when in need of Fat Free Cool Whip. When Spring rolls around, I'll reassess the outside situation then.

This hibernation is made possible by the fact that the most pressing responsibility I have is returning the Netflix videos so that we can get new ones on a regular basis. And I took care of that obligation yesterday.

Although I am completely committed to my hibernation, I did venture out briefly this afternoon, wearing completely weather inappropriate clothing, to take some pictures. Here is the result of my finger numbing exploration.

This is looking out our porch balcony across the street. People FLY around that corner and make such terrible screeching noises with their tires that I am constantly running to the window to see whose been killed and how many ambulances will be needed.

Man I wish a squirrel lived in this tree. Doesn't it look like the perfect squirrel tree?

Our staircase looks totally lethal and deadly with snow on it.

It snowed so hard that they closed the base at 1100 and everyone got to go home for the day and smirk at their wives from balconies while wearing glorified pajamas. When I asked if he wanted to come down and play in the snow with me he declined saying that he'd already had a chance to "play in the snow" this morning during PT (physical training).

If I were an Eskimo I'd call this Cotton Ball snow.

This is our trash can. We are completely negligent with taking the trash out to the street. I had to put a reminder in my Blackberry because we forgot so many times in a row. Although I know I am complaining, I can tell you right now that I will NOT be the one doing it this week. No sir.

Photographers are totally obsessed with rusty things. I don't know what it is. Something to do with documentation, the psychological preservation of atrophy, the visible chemical disintegration and the whole finding beauty in ordinary objects thing.

I just cannot pass up taking a photo of rust.

This is where my organic urban vegetable and small flower garden is going to go. There's going to be hanging plants and window boxes. I'm going to get a porch swing and a small table and sit out there in the sun and do crossword puzzles and drink ice tea in the heat and sweat all Summer.

Whenever this bullshit Winter nonsense is over, of course.