"They Fought Out of Pure Love"

"There were few people I would follow to hell and back, and Romesha is one of them"                -PFC Chris Jones

Today, President Obama will (or did, depending on when I actually publish this baby) award former SSG Clint Romesha the Congressional Medal of Honor. Romesha is the 4th living recipient and is the second recipient I have posted about on this blog, (you can read about the other here) and man alive, do I feel honored to have even heard these men's names.

I remember the day in October 2009 when COP Keating was overrun. I remember thinking "My God, my husband was there not two years before" (he was in the unit that helped build it and had served with the COP's namesake, LT Ben Keating). I remember praying like crazy for those lost and how scared they must have been to fight for their lives during a TWELVE hour battle with insurgents sometimes as few as 10 feet away. I think at that time it the most deadly single incident in the history of the war, ousting an incident during Erik's deployment to the same area from the "top" spot. A threshold so many Americans were praying we didn't cross.

Eight soldiers were killed that day at COP Keating:

SSG Vernon Martin

SSG Justin Gallegos
SGT Joshua Hardt

SGT Joshua Kirk

SGT Michael Scusa

SPC Christopher Griffin

SPC Stephan Mace

PFC Kevin Thomson 

I first read about SSG Clint Romesha specifically while reading The Outpost by Jake Tapper. (Yes, I finally finished it, for those of you wondering). I remember thinking how brave he and the others were, 52 of them them standing up to 300 Taliban and so many living to tell about it - a big part of that due to the bravery of SSG Romesha, who himself with what I read to be literally a hole in his arm from an RPG, and I just think "There is just no possible way I could be that brave". How did they look death in the face, accept that they may not see their wives or kids or parents ever again, and then start storming buildings? I guess because they didn't have any choice, that storming those buildings was the only chance they would have to ever see their family again. And I guess a Soldier probably makes peace with their mortality far in advance of having an enemy inside the wire of their camp. All things I just don't think I could do.

"With complete disregard for his own safety, Romesha continually exposed himself to heavy enemy fire as he moved confidently about the battlefield engaging and destroying multiple enemy targets, including three Taliban fighters who had breached the combat outpost's perimeter," his award citation reads.

Romesha himself has said that the Battle for COP Keating was group effort. The Black Knights are all heroes. In that light, I want to take a minute and tell you that 27 of the Soldiers who fought for COP Keating that day received Purple Hearts. That's more than half. 18 received Bronze Stars and 9 received Silver Stars. (There were more awards too, but I can't find concrete sources at the moment)

These Soldiers fought for each other out of love, "pure love" as President Obama and the mom of PFC Stephan Mace have both said. They fought to keep each other alive with bullets and sometimes giving (literally) their own blood via buddy transfusions, and when one of them fell, they fought to keep the body safe so their families could welcome them home. If that isn't valor, patriotism and love, I don't know what is.

And so I thank God every single day for men like those who served at Keating, and the hundreds of thousands of other veterans that have served our great country. You folks make America proud. And you make me dang proud to be an American.

I really, really encourage you to read this through: http://www.cnn.com/2013/02/08/us/uncommon-valor It's a very interesting retelling of the events at COP Keating by Jake Tapper, who also became great friends with SSG Romesha while writing The Outpost.

And I would also like to point out to whomever is reading, that over the weekend Jake Tapper and his wife Jennifer, along with Walmart and an anonymous donor, put together a reunion for the Black Knights in Washington, DC. They were aided by American Airlines, Jet Blue, Southwest Airlines and Best Western. A big shout out goes to all those folks who made that reunion possible. I've seen pictures - with the Black Knights, John and Cindy McCain and Denis McDonough (the White House Chief of Staff) as well as Gold Star moms, wives and kiddos, and just the pictures of those folks together moved me. I know that even though the Army is small, the world is big, and sometimes these reunions don't happen all that often. I thanked Jake Tapper at The Outpost book party for bringing so many 3-71 Soldiers together, and I'm thanking him for this now. Thank you.

The Pregnancy Diet

Should you find yourself wanting to lose a few pounds, I have a new, revolutionary diet for you!
1. Stop eating bacon and sausage because of the Nitrates.
2. Stop drinking beer because of the booze. And the carbs.
3. Get a stomach ache after you eat anything that isn't a salad, French Onion soup, yogurt, a clementine or a veggie sub from Subway (no cold cuts, either!)
4. Be utterly and completely disgusted by the smell of cooking meat. Insist on feeding your family pasta, quinoa or Subway takeout (remember, you can only have a veggie sub) until someone else steps up to cook.
5. If you're feeling especially motivated, go ahead and pick up one of the super awesome 10 day colds going around. Get a hacking cough and become so nauseated that you can't even eat an entire cup of the aforementioned yogurt before having to go lay down on the couch.


Now, as with any diet, you need to make some lifestyle changes as well. Here are a few suggestions:
1. Wake up every hour to pee. Wait 20 minutes before going back to sleep. If you happen to have bought yourself a Tempurpedic mattress before taking on this diet, your husband won't be disturbed (which means no sympathy, ladies!).
2. Take 4 ridiculously huge vitamins before you go to bed, because at least this way you can sleep through the free tummy ache they so graciously provide you with.
3. Stop doing housework. You are living on the edge of vomit after all, your family will understand. And if they don't, you know what to do.
4. Quit going to the gym. The childcare hours are only until 11 after all. Oh, and did I mention you need to have a healthy fear that if you move much before that time, the yogurt and clementine you had for breakfast will reappear? Don't worry though, after a few weeks of tummy aches, this fear develops all on it's own.


Want to just simulate the Pregnancy Diet?
Get a mild case food poisoning. That lasts for at least 14 weeks.




And yes. Yes I am...

Musing

I'm not really sure which is worse:

Your kid busting in on you while you're trying to use the restroom.

-OR-

Your kid pulling the door all the way shut while you're mid-pee (and thanks to him, you can't just stop what you're doing and re-open the door) and then running off laughing, knowing you can't do anything about it.

Fact.

“To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.”

 

~E.E. Cummings

Letter to 16-Year Old Sheena

Hi,
Listen, you really need to get those speeding tickets under control. In a few years, you are going to find yourself getting pulled over in a small town on your way to pay a speeding ticket that you got in that very spot a few weeks earlier. It is embarrassing when you ask the cop doing the pulling over for directions to pay your other ticket. He does not take pity on you, either.

Also, I don't care what anyone says, these are not the best years of your life. Senior year is fun and all, but the best years are college, and chances are high that the people who truly believe their high school years were the best have peaked.

That boy you think is the greatest thing since sliced cheese, the one you can't imagine NOT knowing for the rest of your life - well, you will. But it's not in the way you think. When you break up, don't burn the bridge - you'll be friends for over decade more (I can only speak to age 28 at this point). Also, the boy you come quite close to marrying later is NOT the boy you should marry. And you need to thank your lucky stars that you figured it out sooner rather than later. Learn the lessons that every girl learns after she gets cheated on (like which cocktails are her favorite) and burn that bridge as quickly as you can. When you do, the boy you ARE going to marry walks right through your door - before you even know you're ready.

I know you won't listen, but your first year of college would have been a lot more exciting if you had dumped the aforementioned crappy boyfriend. But don't worry, you more than make up for it during your second. During your third year of college, you find yourself (for awhile) and your life-long friends. And while we're on this topic : get your masters right after college. You'll think you don't have time because you're getting married in the spring, but as fate would have it - you DO have time. And you still get married.

Sadly, you're going to lose someone earlier than you could have ever anticipated. When you move far away from everyone, don't neglect going home because it's too costly. Go happily. Go often. You'll need it later, and you'll be sorry if you don't.

When you start to think about getting a second dog - don't. Seriously. Don't.

Above all, and this is pretty callous, but stop worrying so damn much about people's feelings. The sad truth is that you spend more time on theirs than they (generally) spend on yours.

Love,
You

PS - Your kid is stinking adorable.

Things You Should Know About Me if We're Going to be BFF

1. I do not pee in front of my husband. In fact, I struggle to pee if I know someone can hear me.
2. When I was little I had a desperate urge to work at the grocery store near my house. Later, it was indeed my first job, and was far less glamorous than anticipated.
3. If I don't wash my hair every day it gets greasy enough to make dreads.
4. My dryer is my iron. If that doesn't do the job, I will just wear something else.
5. I desperately wish I was one of those people who liked the vacuum lines enough to sweeper every day. I mean, I like them, but...
6. And along those lines: I LOVE having a clean house, but not enough that I clean it more than is  necessary.
7. I have laundry amnesia. I put it in and forget about it for days. This was super gross in HI.
8. If I'm going up stairs and there are more than 3, I can't fight the urge to count them. I know exactly how many stairs are in my house. (39, if you were curious.)
9. I try really hard to curb my natural tendency to be a "bitcher". A "bitcher" to me is someone who sees only the negative - even their humor has a negative tone to it.
10. I got married at 23. Judging from the ages most of my high school classmates got married, I was pretty much an old maid.
11. Someday soon, you are probably going to have to nominate me for an episode of What Not To Wear. Please act quickly.
12. I don't hand wash anything. If it's a dish that I'm supposed to wash, it goes on the top rack until it breaks (which by the way has only happened with a Melamine kids plate that cost me $1). If it's a garment, I don't buy it.
13. I'd crawl over glass for someone, but only if I know they'd do it for me.
14. I don't like blue food, raspberries or the square patties at Wendys. I do really like beer though.
15. And Kendall Jackson Chardonnay

Everybody's Free (to wear sunscreen)

Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of '97... wear sunscreen.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be IT.

The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience.

I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded. But trust me, in 20 years you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked.

You are NOT as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.


Sing.
Don't be reckless with other people's hearts, don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.


Floss.
Don't waste your time on jealousy; sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long, and in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements.


Stretch.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of calcium.

Be kind to your knees, you'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't, maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't, maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself, either. Your choices are half chance, so are everybody else's. Enjoy your body, use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it, or what other people think of it, it's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance. Even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents, you never know when they'll be gone for good.

Be nice to your siblings; they are your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but for the precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography in lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard; live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.


Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old, and when you do you'll fantasize that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund, maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.


Baz Luhrmann



from William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet
music from the House of Iona, Something For Everybody

So Maybe I'm Insane

I saw my neighbor with his cooler tonight and it reminded me of this story I concocted in my head about him last summer.

Every night I'd take Baxter on a walk and we'd see my across the street neighbor coming home, getting a cooler out of the back end of the truck and wheeling it around to the back yard of his house. At first I thought, "Oh, he must have been to Costco and wanted to keep his goods cold", then I started to think "No one goes to Costco EVERY.SINGLE.DAY" . Then I decided "Clearly he's killed someone and is bringing them home bit by bit in his cooler and buring them in his backyard". This went on for several days, one day I'd see him and think "probably an arm", the next I'd see him, and think "A leg. No, wait a leg is too big for that cooler, it's probably just a foot or two" (you see where your mind can wander too without enough human interraction). So one day my landlord came over and we saw him outside and she said "Hey Jim!" and I said "You know him? Whats up with the cooler? Sometimes I wonder if he's got body parts in here" and laughed at me and said "He's a sushi maker/deliverman". THEN she went on to tell me that Schofield Commissary is one of his stops. All this damn time I've been going out there for sushi when I could just walk across the street!

Anyway, I saw him unloading his cooler today and got a chuckle. But you probably had to be there.

Stolen

Musings From a Mom-to-Be

I think mothers dupe non-mothers into pregnancy by not telling them all the crazy ass side effects of pregnancy. Maybe it’s not a vast conspiracy, but I feel a little uninformed. I knew pregnant ladies had to pee a lot, but I assumed it was because the baby was sitting on their bladder. I didn’t know that it was because EVERY.SINGLE.TIME you take a sip of water you have to pee. Last month we went on vacation and I told my mother-in-law it was a tour of the northeast via bathroom.

Other things I didn’t know:Crazy back pain
Sensitive skin
Absolute exhaustion
Being super picky about food/grossed out by things you once loved
Pregnant women really do get a little stupider. I have been late for appointments, left home without my shoes and worn shirts inside out.

One crazy side effect from own experience that I’ll share: my own personal case: Gagging. I don’t usually get sick, but I gag. I gag after I eat, I gag when I laugh. I gag when I talk, I gag when I think about gagging. It doesn’t hurt or anything so it’s not a big deal but OH is it awkward. The first few times it happened I got up and ran to the bathroom thinking I was going to be sick but I never was. Erik would follow me in there to make sure I’m okay, but now I just stay where I am and try to cover my mouth (like that makes the loud noise of gagging a little less obnoxious…) and Erik just laughs and laughs. My friend Carmen laughs so hard about it she cries. Thanks guys… It is getting better though. The other day I was able to brush my teeth like a regular person! But then this morning I was back to choking on the toothbrush.

All that insanity aside, it’s pretty intense to know that it’s all happening because you are growing a little person inside of you. Never mind that it’s sucking the life (and intelligence) out of you at the same time…

Evil Vortex

I firmly believe that there is some kind of vortex at the entry way to every commissary on this Earth that turns even the best, most well behaved children into not so well-behaved children. This theory has been tested in several states and though I have found that the kids are often worse on or around pay day, they are affected by said vortex at any time, on any date, in any state.

This vortex is probably also the same one that makes otherwise normal parents buy their kids those freakin' heelie shoes so they can scoot around uncontrollably. Because that, like driving on the ice, is always a great idea.

Other vortexes I believe in:

*One at the entry to my backyard that sucks the life out of plants.
*One at the city limits of Washington DC that makes people forget things they once held important
*The one at my kitchen that the dogs seem to see and recognize as the Do Not Cross line
*The one that overtakes me when I log on to facebook and keeps me from logging off until I have successfully pissed away 3 hours.

"I just want to be as good a person as my dog thinks I am"
-Unknown

So obviously I'm not very good at blogging with Erik home, but I'm going to start trying to do better. Tomorrow.

We'll start with my random realization today:

Erik's camera cord has been to more countries than I have. This needs to be remedied. Who wants to go to Australia?

More later. And hopefully it will have a little more substance...

How Did We Manage?

So today is the 5-year anniversary of our first date. We don't really count it, because we didn't go on another date for a month afterward, but that's a story for another time.

Anyway, our first date was over Labor Day weekend in 2004. And somehow, in spite whatever the heck life was throwing at us over the last few years, we've managed to always be together over Labor Day weekend (inadvertent though it might have been at the time). We've only ever spent 2 Christmases together, maybe a couple of birthdays and only half a wedding anniversary, but Labor Day weekend - that's our time. Until this year, anyway...

But it's okay because we always have next year! We should go to Maui...

Alright, I’ve had it.

Note: This has been a long time coming, but I've been too busy to post it:

So, the other day I had to take a tour of the Hilton Hawaiian Village for work (long story) and they told us this story: They have several towers of rooms on the property and one tower is like a whole resort in itsself, for the famous folk. Well aparently, Michael Jackson stayed there in the mid-nineties and just recently someone knocked on the door of the room they found out he had stayed in and asked to take a picture. Seriously? That person needs a thump on the head. I am so freakin’ tired of Michael Jackson I could gouge my own eyes and ears out with a rusty screwdriver.

I’m I sorry he died? Sure. I’m sorry when any one loses their life, and especially so when they leave behind young children. Am I upset that he died? Not really. I understand: King of Pop, yadda yadda yadda, but honestly, what did he do for us besides sing a few songs and give us something to gossip about? Most of my generation doesn’t even know him as anything other than a freako in a jumpsuit with just one glove who may or may not have molested children. I wasn’t around to appreciate the Jackson 5 or even the Michael Jackson of yesterday, back when he was “breaking down racial barriers in the music industry” by “(making) culture accept a person of color" (Al Sharpon’s words, not mine). All I know is what I see, and what I’ve seen over the past 25 years hasn’t been all that great. And I certainly wouldn’t herald him as a cultural icon for African Americans when it’s obvious that he wanted to be white.

My question to you America, is why is this guys death more important to you than the deaths of the thousands of American soldiers who have died in defense of your freedom? Did they get a banner on msn.com? No. Are their funerals put on TV? No. Is anyone worried about their children? Well, CNN isn’t,that’s for sure.

Michael Jackson left behind 3 young children and a mountain of debt for his family to work their way out from under. America’s solders have left us the freedom to do pretty much whatever, whenever we please. Unfortunately for them, we use that freedom to obsess over celebrities instead of paying a little attention to those who fight to keep this nation safe and free.

Makes.Me.Sick.

Shut Up, Sheena.

On March 30th I blogged about the lack of paper towels in my office because the state is too broke to pay for them and said that if they would quit running the air full blast for 10 hours a day they'd save some dough.

Turns out Mufi Hanneman (the mayor of Oahu) reads my blog (or maybe someone just thinks like I do, but I'd like to think the former) because they're scheduling A/C time now. They run it starting at 7AM Monday since it is off all weekend, and then Tuesday - Friday it goes on at 11 and off at 4. FYI, the sun comes up at 5 here and is in full force by 11. You sweat just sitting at your desk. Then 11 rolls around, then 12 and you're freezing again.

Seriousy, I HATE being hot. HATE IT. Next time I'll just keep my damn mouth shut.

Or at least I'll try.

But Mufi, if you're out there, I have some other ideas for you too.

My Life in a Freakin' Nut Shell

When Andrea and Scott were here they discovered an ant in my flour and they dumped it. Ants and roaches are a problem here, I seem to only have the former so I try not to complain. Anyway, I decided I'd order some of those old school tupperware canisters like my Mima used to have, those would definitely keep ants out.

>>>>>Fast Forward Here>>>>>

Yesterday I was minding my business in my cubicle when I started craving one of those Christmas tree Little Debbie pies. You know the ones, with the white frosting, red drizzle and green sprinkles? As you can see, I remember them fondly even though I haven't had one in as long as I can remember.

So I get up from my desk, collect my things, and since I need to go to Borders anyway, I decide to cruse by KMart (which is next door) to see if they have any Little Debbies (I knew I wouldn't get the Christmas ones in March so I decided I'd look for fancy cakes - they're the same, just no sprinkles or red drizzle, and no Christmas tree shape... Well you get the point). Anyway, there were none to be found at KMart, then I went to 2 grocery stores - STILL nothing. Finally, I go to a gas station and they have oatmeal cream pies but no fancy cakes. And when I asked for the fancy cake specifically the lady looked like I was talking Greek. Whatever, I accepted my lot, got a nutrigrain bar and moved on with my day. All the while thinking "How does this stupid rock not have fancy cakes?! This place is RIDICULOUS!!!!!!!"

So then I get home and notice a box on my porch. Part of my tupperware order has arrived!

And it was shipped in a Little Debbie box.

Worth the Read

Death, like everything in their 62-year marriage, was something the Mosers faced together. Eighty-four-year-old Robert, whose health had declined steadily in recent years, always expected to go first. His 80-year-old wife, Darlene, had been his steady caretaker at the Seatter Road home they built with their own hands.

That is, until December, when a cancer gave her precious few weeks of life to live. When Robert learned Darlene was terminally ill, he quickly grumbled: "I'm terminal, too." The claim drew scoffs from his family. But he was serious.

And as his wife lay beside him in her last moments on Jan. 23, Robert, too, began to die, to the amazement of his family and hospice caretakers. Only six hours separated their deaths.

It was a bittersweet moment for the couple's five children and extended family. They'd lost their mother and father. But their parents — the couple who lived and breathed love for one another, who spooned together every night while watching the news, who even walked to their mailbox in tandem — had received their last wish.

"I don't think you can explain our rejoicing," said Marie Townsend, 55, their second daughter. "They ebbed and flowed together. They were truly one. And when she died, half of him died."
Like many couples of their generation whose marriages spanned half centuries, their deaths were close together. But in the words of Amy Getter, Kitsap Hospice's director of clinical services, the Mosers' case is "pretty remarkable." "Mr. Moser was adamant that they'd spoken for years about going together," Getter said. "That was sort of the plan."

Their story of love and long-term devotion showcases an aspect of humanity that even modern science has a hard time explaining: that sometimes strength of will decides whether we live or die. "I really believe it's one of the mysteries of life and death," Getter said. "We don't know quite how it happens." University of Arkansas at Little Rock professor Terry Trevino-Richard once studied the phenomenon, in a research article titled "Death Timing Among Deceased Married Couples in a Southern Cemetery."

"There is ample evidence that individuals may subconsciously or deliberately hasten or postpone their own death by aiming towards a psychologically important date," he wrote.
Simply put by Diana Moser, the couple's oldest daughter: "He could not live without her."

Robert Moser lived by a simple mantra, according to his son, Walt: "Happy wife, happy life."
An electrician by trade, his family said he was a straight shooter, an ethical man who never missed a day of work in his life.

Robert was an aviation technician in the Pacific Theater during World War II. He'd met Darlene briefly through their families before the war. When Robert returned, the family said he exclaimed, "Whoa, you grew up" to his bride-to-be. Three months later, they were married. Their chemistry was magical, the family said.

They got up from bed together and always waited for the other to get in bed at night. Mornings over coffee together developed a mutual plan of attack for the day. Darlene always made sure Robert's lunch was packed and clothes folded for him to wear. "It was an idyllic life," Townsend said. "We weren't rich, we weren't poor. I describe it as a lot like 'Leave it to Beaver.'"

Darlene was the eternal optimist, always keeping the family upbeat. "She was the most positive and outgoing person," Townsend said. "The cup was always half full."

The Mosers had brushes with death before — Robert a heart attack in 1982 and Darlene in 1947 when birthing their first child, Diana.

Excited at the prospect of raising children, the Mosers very nearly had none after Diana became stuck in the birth canal. Diana was "tossed aside" when she emerged, as doctors concentrated on saving Darlene Moser's life. Amazingly, both survived, though doctors told the new mother her chances of living through another childbirth were slim. The Mosers eventually had nine children, and it's safe to say they proved their doctor wrong. "They told me they wanted to have a family so bad, they would never give up," Walt Moser said.

They didn't come without tragedy, however. Two children died before being born, and one died after being alive one day. Yet another, Jackie, was killed as a kindergartener after being struck by a motorcycle. But another five — Diana, Marie, and Walt, who live in California; Robin, of Bonney Lake; and Marlene, of Bainbridge Island — grew up under their care.

Robert's first brush with death came in California. Darlene was headed out to her bowling league, but, as she told her sons and daughters, something didn't feel right. Robert, down for a nap, was blue when she found him. A Sacramento County sheriff's deputy, who had stayed home from work that day, answered Darlene's screams for help from her front yard. He had no vital signs, but the deputy's CPR saved his life, the family said. "Mr. Tough got more sentimental," after that, Townsend said.

He was given 10 years to live after the 1982 attack, the family said. Robert suffered strokes, kidney troubles, congestive heart failure and other ailments following, but he never complained. "I'm fine," he'd always say.

Save for the framing, their Kingston home of their last 17 years was almost entirely built with their hands. Darlene drew up the blueprints; Robert did the heavy lifting.

In retirement, they never left each other's sides. If a check needed depositing, they went to the bank together. Grocery shopping was done in tandem. The pair even ventured to the mailbox together everyday unless one was too ill to do so. They spooned on the couch as long as their bodies would let them.

The biggest shock came when Darlene was found to have a cancer growth. On Dec. 23, she went into the hospital, and learned the growth was terminal. She refused to be at the hospital for Christmas, however, and went home to be with Robert against doctor's orders.

It was then Robert began to say that he, too, was terminally ill. Kitsap Hospice came and cared for the couple. Robert even brought up Washington's recently approved assisted suicide law, which goes into effect March 4. "Sign me up," he told the hospice staff, and even his own doctor.

Before their deaths, they also knew their family was healthy and happy, including one of their youngest daughters, Marlene, who lives on Bainbridge. Though she'd fought breast cancer, she now had a clean bill of heath. The family had prayed for her to get better, and Robert added his special plea: To die with his wife.

In the days before their deaths, hospice had a special bed put into the couple's bedroom, where youthful pictures of Robert and Darlene hang above their respective bedsides. Robert, in their own bed, held her hand tight as she began to die.

At 2:45 a.m. Jan. 23, she went. The sisters, Diana and Marie, delivered the news to Robert. There were many tears, Diana recalled. "Are you OK," Diana asked him. And for the first time their oldest daughter ever remembers, he said in his last word: "No."

Not long after, the nurse came to check on Robert. Astonishingly, his vital signs began to fail. His breathing became broken. He was actively dying, the nurse told the family. There were no drugs or methods he'd used to quicken death; it just began to happen. They gave him two days to live, tops. Instead, he joined his wife in death only six hours after hers.

Robert and Darlene, whose services were held Thursday, will be buried in the same way they lived their lives — together. In the same casket.

Untitled.

I don't have any subject matter planned out so this post isn't looking so promising right now. It's been one of those days though, so I'd imagine that this is going to be the high point of the post.

Erik has made the switch to his new base and pretty much LOVES it there. He has a bed, with sheets AND a pillow (along with various other things). For this, I am grateful.

My mom is moving out of the house I grew up in (well, lived in since 9th grade) to move to Oklahoma City. I understand her rationale, and I support it, but I'm still a little homesick for that house and it's hard to know I'll never go back. So I guess *this* is home now but it doesn't feel like it. We've lived here for almost a year, but it just doesn't feel like we're any more than tourists. Enid is home, but I don't have a "home" to go to there anymore. I'll get over it, I just don't deviate so well.

So anyway, I'm a downer tonight because I watched a sappy love story on my Netflix and now I'm weepy. So instead of rubbing my poor mood off on you, I'll leave you with a quote from my sappy movie:

"Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are.
Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two."
-Captain Corelli's Mandolin

Am I a filthy sinner?

Yesterday my door bell rang and it was two ladies peddaling Jesus. I took their literature and went on about my day.

20 minutes later it rang again. A man offering to clean our carpets. I say "I don't have any carpet" (a lie, guess I should read the literature...) and he said "We can clean your furniture, or even your car upholstery". I said "No thanks" and he kept pushing and finally I was like "Don't waste your time, I said no thanks dude." Then he high fived me. Strange.

Then I went Christmas shopping. In bermuda shorts. Also strange.

Today I have many errands to run as Christmas seems to come faster here than on the mainland (or could it be that I have to ship things weeks in advance?). It's so very strange to feel like it's June and be staning in the Chrimstas section. BTW, the Christmas Section at WalMart is the Garden Spot. BUT the Garden Spot is a year-round thing here too. So think: aisles 1, 2, 3: Christmas, aisles 4-8: Fertilizer.

I sure do love the screaming Children and adults next door... If they didn't scream SO often, I might actually think something was wrong.

Off to get my day started! :)