I am in love with another city. I never imagined I could feel this way about a place. After all, a city is just a city. Filled with people, cars, buildings, hotels, and such. Not true. A city is not just a city. San Francisco was all I imagined it would be. I do realize that I live in one of the shittiest cities in the United States so it wouldn't take much to kick it to the curb, even still, awesome place.
I went for 4 days to lovely San Francisco for the annual BlogHer conference. If you don't know what that is, it is a get together for women bloggers. They have speakers and panels and parties. Lots of parties. They talk about blog design, how to get traffic, and how to get paid for your blog. Everyone had business cards with their name and blog on them. Some gave out trinkets like cigarette lighters, suckers, and necklaces with little light up thingies on them. Lots of different things. There were sponsors of all kinds, from KY lube, to Sprout TV.
Why, you may ask, would I go to such a place? I went with Crystal, for moral support, company, and to help her promote her blog. She is in the midst of some really good stuff happening and there were a few people there directly related to said stuff happening. You get to rub elbows with some of the biggest women bloggers out there. It was very nice to see how very normal and willing to talk all of them were. Well, except for one, which I won't mention, because she apparently likes to cut people off at the knees for negative comments.
The other reason she went was because she was asked to speak on a panel discussing parenting and privacy issues in regards to blogging. The 3 other women on the panel do not use the real names of their children, nor do they show pictures of them. Crystal, of course, does.
Instead of making one, very long post, I will probably make it into a few. Everyone has asked me how my trip was and I just look at them like a teenager in love. Where do I begin? I don't have the words to describe. I am hoping maybe I can write better than I have spoken about it. Also, maybe by writing about it a day at a time will help me to sort out everything in my mind, instead of if being all jumbled up into one awesome experience. Bonus: I have a fresh, written account of it all. I won't remember details forever.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Not My Usual
I received something from my dad yesterday not knowing how very much it would affect me. I got a binder full of letters that his brother, Patsey Gene Parker, had written home from the Korean war. Also in there were a few that my grandmother had written him.
His letters begin in February 1953. Some of his first letters come from Fort Jackson, South Carolina. I believe from there he went to Dallas and then San Francisco. Once he arrives in Korea he was assigned to K Company of the 180th Infantry Regiment, 45th Division. He writes about every two days, without fail.
He usually would end the letters with a little note on the bottom telling everyone hi. Sometimes he would tell his mom to specifically tell his brother (my dad, Stevie they would call him) hi. My dad was 3, almost 4 years old. In one particular note at the bottom he told his mom to tell Stevie to keep his knife for him and that he would get a bigger one when he was older. My dad still has that knife.
As you read on, there are talks of the war possibly ending. He is doubtful, but hopeful. In Korea, I believe he spent most of his time in a place called Sandbag Castle. He says they are on one side of this huge hill and the Koreans are on the other. There is little fighting, if any. Mostly he writes about how he lays around and that there isn't much to do.
There are a few article in The Commercial Appeal about him. A reporter talks about how when he met him he was scared to death but the picture of him showed the biggest grin. At the time the reporter was there my uncle was reading letters he had received from home.
The last letter in the binder from him is dated July 13th, 1953. He says it is raining and cold and not to worry that he hasn't written in a bit. They are in a place called Christmas Hill now. He sent some money home and told his mom to use it if she needed it.
The next letter in the binder is from my grandmother to him. It is dated July 10th. She tells him to be a real good boy and worries he isn't getting enough to eat. She also tells him that once he is home he doesn't ever have to go away again unless he wants to. She hopes he is home by Christmas. That was one of the first letters that the envelope was marked "Return to Sender." My uncle's name and address were marked through and stamped over it were the words VERIFIED MISSING IN ACTION.
There are others dated July 13th, then the 16th. One was written on the 27th which I am guessing is when they announced that the peace treaty was signed. She is so happy and doesn't believe he will be in much danger now. Her last letter was written on the 31st and she asks him to write her because she hasn't heard from him since the 13th. Tomorrow is her birthday and all she wants is a letter from him. She says she won't worry and hopes to hear from him with a letter dated after the 27th.
There is also a letter from his sister dated July 30th. She asks him in the letter why he won't write mother every day. Says she is worried about him. I believe that my aunt was 7 years old at the time.
The next letter is dated August 3, 1953 and reports that my uncle was officially listed as Missing In Action since July 14th. Hope arrives in a letter from a soldier that my uncle was fighting with. My grandmother had written to this man after Gene was missing. This man wrote to her and said that after the fight that he apparently went missing in , they gathered all the wounded and dead and Gene was not one of them. They thought he was captured.
My grandmother writes a letter on October 2 to the United Nations Commander regarding the whereabouts of her son. The return letter comes November 3 that there is no new information regarding her son.
A letter dated March 25, 1954 states that my uncle was killed in action in Korea, date unreported. He was 21 years old. The next letter, dated April 1, states that his remains were recovered near Pan-Gol, North Korea, on November 6, 1953. The Colonel regrets that the information was not furnished earlier but a definite identification had to be made.
He was awarded the Silver Star and it was presented to his father in a ceremony.
I have grown up hearing very little of my Uncle Gene. My father doesn't remember him, as he was only 3 when he left for the war. My aunts would get visibly upset when his name was mentioned so I never really questioned much.
The letters offered an insight that I have never had. They made him a real person. Those letters that were written home by him showed a loving and dedicated son. I wish that I could have known him. As I read these letters and then the letters written by my grandmother to him, unknowingly, after his death, I was filled with such emotion that I couldn't explain. The anguish that must have been felt for months, not knowing if he was alive or dead, had to have been excruciating.
I was close to my grandmother growing up and she could never talk of him either. I hurt for her reading those letters. I guess because I have a son and can not wrap my mind around sending my baby off to a place that I know he might not come back from. Trying to keep up hope, and looking forward to every single letter. Then, getting that twinge of despair the first time it was too long between them. You can tell, as the days pass in her letters, she is trying desperately not to give up.
I have watched many war movies and documentaries in my life time but they didn't quite seem real at the time. I know that as long as people are on this earth there will be war. There will be death and there will be numerous families that must go through this. I can only hope that those of us that benefit every day from the sacrifices of those men and women and their families don't ever take it for granted.
His letters begin in February 1953. Some of his first letters come from Fort Jackson, South Carolina. I believe from there he went to Dallas and then San Francisco. Once he arrives in Korea he was assigned to K Company of the 180th Infantry Regiment, 45th Division. He writes about every two days, without fail.
He usually would end the letters with a little note on the bottom telling everyone hi. Sometimes he would tell his mom to specifically tell his brother (my dad, Stevie they would call him) hi. My dad was 3, almost 4 years old. In one particular note at the bottom he told his mom to tell Stevie to keep his knife for him and that he would get a bigger one when he was older. My dad still has that knife.
As you read on, there are talks of the war possibly ending. He is doubtful, but hopeful. In Korea, I believe he spent most of his time in a place called Sandbag Castle. He says they are on one side of this huge hill and the Koreans are on the other. There is little fighting, if any. Mostly he writes about how he lays around and that there isn't much to do.
There are a few article in The Commercial Appeal about him. A reporter talks about how when he met him he was scared to death but the picture of him showed the biggest grin. At the time the reporter was there my uncle was reading letters he had received from home.
The last letter in the binder from him is dated July 13th, 1953. He says it is raining and cold and not to worry that he hasn't written in a bit. They are in a place called Christmas Hill now. He sent some money home and told his mom to use it if she needed it.
The next letter in the binder is from my grandmother to him. It is dated July 10th. She tells him to be a real good boy and worries he isn't getting enough to eat. She also tells him that once he is home he doesn't ever have to go away again unless he wants to. She hopes he is home by Christmas. That was one of the first letters that the envelope was marked "Return to Sender." My uncle's name and address were marked through and stamped over it were the words VERIFIED MISSING IN ACTION.
There are others dated July 13th, then the 16th. One was written on the 27th which I am guessing is when they announced that the peace treaty was signed. She is so happy and doesn't believe he will be in much danger now. Her last letter was written on the 31st and she asks him to write her because she hasn't heard from him since the 13th. Tomorrow is her birthday and all she wants is a letter from him. She says she won't worry and hopes to hear from him with a letter dated after the 27th.
There is also a letter from his sister dated July 30th. She asks him in the letter why he won't write mother every day. Says she is worried about him. I believe that my aunt was 7 years old at the time.
The next letter is dated August 3, 1953 and reports that my uncle was officially listed as Missing In Action since July 14th. Hope arrives in a letter from a soldier that my uncle was fighting with. My grandmother had written to this man after Gene was missing. This man wrote to her and said that after the fight that he apparently went missing in , they gathered all the wounded and dead and Gene was not one of them. They thought he was captured.
My grandmother writes a letter on October 2 to the United Nations Commander regarding the whereabouts of her son. The return letter comes November 3 that there is no new information regarding her son.
A letter dated March 25, 1954 states that my uncle was killed in action in Korea, date unreported. He was 21 years old. The next letter, dated April 1, states that his remains were recovered near Pan-Gol, North Korea, on November 6, 1953. The Colonel regrets that the information was not furnished earlier but a definite identification had to be made.
He was awarded the Silver Star and it was presented to his father in a ceremony.
I have grown up hearing very little of my Uncle Gene. My father doesn't remember him, as he was only 3 when he left for the war. My aunts would get visibly upset when his name was mentioned so I never really questioned much.
The letters offered an insight that I have never had. They made him a real person. Those letters that were written home by him showed a loving and dedicated son. I wish that I could have known him. As I read these letters and then the letters written by my grandmother to him, unknowingly, after his death, I was filled with such emotion that I couldn't explain. The anguish that must have been felt for months, not knowing if he was alive or dead, had to have been excruciating.
I was close to my grandmother growing up and she could never talk of him either. I hurt for her reading those letters. I guess because I have a son and can not wrap my mind around sending my baby off to a place that I know he might not come back from. Trying to keep up hope, and looking forward to every single letter. Then, getting that twinge of despair the first time it was too long between them. You can tell, as the days pass in her letters, she is trying desperately not to give up.
I have watched many war movies and documentaries in my life time but they didn't quite seem real at the time. I know that as long as people are on this earth there will be war. There will be death and there will be numerous families that must go through this. I can only hope that those of us that benefit every day from the sacrifices of those men and women and their families don't ever take it for granted.
Monday, July 21, 2008
No More Plate Clean Up
Plate clean up for me is not what you would think. One would assume that as a mom, I am referring to my kids cleaning their plates off when they are done eating. Not so for me. After my kids have eaten I will often snatch a bite or two of whatever is left on their plate then throw the rest in the trash. It's sometimes like a little buffet line. Or sometimes I will pretend I'm at a party and their little primary colored plastic plates are really trays of some fine Hors d'oeuvres.
"Oh, thank you. Yes, I'll have a chicken nugget."
"Why of course. I would love a leftover bite of Hamburger Helper."
"Macaroni and cheese? My favorite!"
Anyways, today selection consisted of frozen pizza. I get the Freschetta four cheese pizza. Let me say that for frozen pizza, this is the best I have had. The crust has garlic butter on it and the entire pizza is covered in cheese. Actually covered. This is not the kind where they just sprinkle a little cheese over the middle and you can still see the sauce underneath.
I hadn't eaten yet and I went to the kitchen to see what I would fix. My kids generally don't eat the crust off their pizza and the crust on this pizza is so very good. I picked Colin's plate, because he had a little cheese left. Bonus!
Big mistake. Colin, as of late, has this thing where he either dunks his food in his drink, or he pours his drink on his plate of food. I have never caught him in the act, but chicken generally does not turn Kool-Aid purple by itself after sitting on a plate.
I of course, in my ravenous state forgot this. I picked up the crust and started munching. "Hmm.... why does this pizza have a very slight sweet taste to it, and, OH MY GOD, he dunked it in his chocolate milk."
When, when will I learn.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
By the way, I went to freakin San Francisco this weekend!!! I am still trying to collect my thoughts and get my husband to show me how to post pictures. There is just too much to say about it. Details coming soon.
One little nugget I will share. That picture of Gilda Radner up there on the top, yeah, that's what my hair looked like the entire weekend!
"Oh, thank you. Yes, I'll have a chicken nugget."
"Why of course. I would love a leftover bite of Hamburger Helper."
"Macaroni and cheese? My favorite!"
Anyways, today selection consisted of frozen pizza. I get the Freschetta four cheese pizza. Let me say that for frozen pizza, this is the best I have had. The crust has garlic butter on it and the entire pizza is covered in cheese. Actually covered. This is not the kind where they just sprinkle a little cheese over the middle and you can still see the sauce underneath.
I hadn't eaten yet and I went to the kitchen to see what I would fix. My kids generally don't eat the crust off their pizza and the crust on this pizza is so very good. I picked Colin's plate, because he had a little cheese left. Bonus!
Big mistake. Colin, as of late, has this thing where he either dunks his food in his drink, or he pours his drink on his plate of food. I have never caught him in the act, but chicken generally does not turn Kool-Aid purple by itself after sitting on a plate.
I of course, in my ravenous state forgot this. I picked up the crust and started munching. "Hmm.... why does this pizza have a very slight sweet taste to it, and, OH MY GOD, he dunked it in his chocolate milk."
When, when will I learn.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
By the way, I went to freakin San Francisco this weekend!!! I am still trying to collect my thoughts and get my husband to show me how to post pictures. There is just too much to say about it. Details coming soon.
One little nugget I will share. That picture of Gilda Radner up there on the top, yeah, that's what my hair looked like the entire weekend!
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Tagged
For you, Brandon.
1. Pick up the nearest book of 123 pages or more. No cheating!
2. Find page 123.
3. Find the first five sentences.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.
There were sounds of kicking and plunging. A stick flew into the air. Then a flat, wet clod of dead leaves shot clean through the gap and landed clear of the hedge, close to Hazel.
B, I bet you are the only one who will know what book that was from. There were soooo many books but this one was technically nearest the computer.
If anyone wants to play, let me know in comments. I don't personally know 5 people.
1. Pick up the nearest book of 123 pages or more. No cheating!
2. Find page 123.
3. Find the first five sentences.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.
There were sounds of kicking and plunging. A stick flew into the air. Then a flat, wet clod of dead leaves shot clean through the gap and landed clear of the hedge, close to Hazel.
B, I bet you are the only one who will know what book that was from. There were soooo many books but this one was technically nearest the computer.
If anyone wants to play, let me know in comments. I don't personally know 5 people.
Catching Up
Ok, for you Tweaker, here is your meme.
1. Write your own six word memoire.
2. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you want.
3. Link to the person that tagged you in your post and to the original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere.
4. Tag at least five more blogs with links.
5. Leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play..
Forever Wife, Mother, Daughter, Sister, Friend
I can not post a picture to save my life. If any of the 2 people that read this want to play just tell me in comments so I can come look.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Didn't You Know? Nipples Are Dangerous Weapons
My husband e-mailed this article to me Friday. I was completely outraged. Why in the world was this woman made to remove her nipple rings? It's completely absurd. Finding out the cause of a hand wand going off, sure. Once it was evident that the rings were the cause, what was the point in removing them?
I work for FedEx and I have my tongue pierced as well as my left nipple and have never set off the alarm at work. They have even used the wand, and luckily I have never set the thing off. I honestly didn't think there was enough metal to detect. I guess I was wrong, or the airport detectors are a lot stronger than the ones at work.
I don't believe I have flown since I got my piercings, but now I don't know that I will. You know what, I take that back. If I got singled out and that wand went off on me, I would just start stripping my shirt and bra off. "You want to see if I'm hiding a bomb under my tits? Well here you go!" That, or something like this, maybe.
It's just sad that we have "rules" that people blindly follow, no matter how absurd, or how much they defy common sense. I truly do feel for that woman. It can be extremely painful to take the rings out and there is no way in hell I would do it with a pair of pliers.
There are people out there, I know, that have metal in their bodies for various reasons. Pins, plates, and such. When those set off metal detectors and the area is searched they have to assume you don't have anything else. No knives stuffed behind that metal knee cap. No bombs embedded into that metal pin inside your leg. What in the world did making that woman take those rings out accomplish, other than allowing a couple of dickheads to get off on a woman who has her nipples pierced? A visual inspection should have sufficed. Period.
I work for FedEx and I have my tongue pierced as well as my left nipple and have never set off the alarm at work. They have even used the wand, and luckily I have never set the thing off. I honestly didn't think there was enough metal to detect. I guess I was wrong, or the airport detectors are a lot stronger than the ones at work.
I don't believe I have flown since I got my piercings, but now I don't know that I will. You know what, I take that back. If I got singled out and that wand went off on me, I would just start stripping my shirt and bra off. "You want to see if I'm hiding a bomb under my tits? Well here you go!" That, or something like this, maybe.
It's just sad that we have "rules" that people blindly follow, no matter how absurd, or how much they defy common sense. I truly do feel for that woman. It can be extremely painful to take the rings out and there is no way in hell I would do it with a pair of pliers.
There are people out there, I know, that have metal in their bodies for various reasons. Pins, plates, and such. When those set off metal detectors and the area is searched they have to assume you don't have anything else. No knives stuffed behind that metal knee cap. No bombs embedded into that metal pin inside your leg. What in the world did making that woman take those rings out accomplish, other than allowing a couple of dickheads to get off on a woman who has her nipples pierced? A visual inspection should have sufficed. Period.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
The Other Part of Potty Training
As a mom you relish the thought of that wonderful day when you no longer have to change diapers. The day they finally "get it". You think it will never happen. You spend long amounts of time in the bathroom anxiously awaiting just a dribble in the potty so you can jump and down and make a very large production out of your child's bodily functions. Never again in their little lives will someone ever be so excited about their poop.
While the excitement of no more diapers is a grand thing, there still is one more little task to potty training. You must teach them to wipe. Seems simple enough. You would be mistaken.
This process lasts quite a little while. At first you do it yourself all the time. I mean, their little arms just aren't long enough to adequately get the job done. Not to mention, that if you give a three year old free reign over the toilet paper, you will have a stopped up toilet. Gradually you try to show them proper technique. With girls, off course, there is more "area" to be careful of. With the boy it's a matter of not getting poop on his little jewels or up his back. I'm not having much luck teaching him, I will be honest.
One particular morning I was awakened from a nap by the all too familiar, "Momma, I poop-ed." I write it this way because he emphasizes the ed. He says it like you would say phys ed, like it's two words. I, without thinking, and a little agitated at being woke up, tell him to wipe himself. I knew as soon as I said it that it wasn't a good idea just yet and got up to do the deed myself.
Later that same afternoon I was sitting outside and I hear giggles from Gracie and her friend. I ask her what is so funny, and she says, "Look."
I turn around to see Colin with a long stream of toilet paper in his hand, waving in the breeze. With his pants and underwear around his ankles, he hollers, "Momma, I wiped my butt!"
Oh, good Lord, he chooses now to listen to me. I guess you can't pick your moments.
While the excitement of no more diapers is a grand thing, there still is one more little task to potty training. You must teach them to wipe. Seems simple enough. You would be mistaken.
This process lasts quite a little while. At first you do it yourself all the time. I mean, their little arms just aren't long enough to adequately get the job done. Not to mention, that if you give a three year old free reign over the toilet paper, you will have a stopped up toilet. Gradually you try to show them proper technique. With girls, off course, there is more "area" to be careful of. With the boy it's a matter of not getting poop on his little jewels or up his back. I'm not having much luck teaching him, I will be honest.
One particular morning I was awakened from a nap by the all too familiar, "Momma, I poop-ed." I write it this way because he emphasizes the ed. He says it like you would say phys ed, like it's two words. I, without thinking, and a little agitated at being woke up, tell him to wipe himself. I knew as soon as I said it that it wasn't a good idea just yet and got up to do the deed myself.
Later that same afternoon I was sitting outside and I hear giggles from Gracie and her friend. I ask her what is so funny, and she says, "Look."
I turn around to see Colin with a long stream of toilet paper in his hand, waving in the breeze. With his pants and underwear around his ankles, he hollers, "Momma, I wiped my butt!"
Oh, good Lord, he chooses now to listen to me. I guess you can't pick your moments.
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