Sometimes you need a good cry

I just never expected it would be over something so seemingly ridiculous. You all know and remember Washburn, correct? You know, the Rottweiler puppy who's actually the size of a small mule? The one that I love so much? Oh, here, have a photo.


Because, trust me, his cuteness was about the only thing that saved him this morning. Whatever happened? I'll tell you. It's what I'm here for, anyway, right?

I don't have an extensive stash of high quality yarns. We can't afford them with how fast I usually whip up projects. So my stash is rather large, but consists of a lot of acrylic yarn. I have a couple skeins and one or two cones of cotton yarn - my preferred medium - and a few skeins of highly guarded and well-loved wool.

In order to protect this yarn, MarvMan, the efficient, handy man that he occasionally can prove himself to be, added a lock to one of the cabinets on my desk. I could easily slide both baskets into this cabinet, along with my bag of polyfil and one other bag full of hemp and beads for when I'm feeling particularly ambitious and crafty.

This past week, I have been a crocheting fool. I've worked up numerous projects and have been immensely proud of some of the things I've come up with. But hooking so much (hehe hehe) means that my yarn basket is almost constantly in use. So it moved from the cabinet to the foot of the stool I am usually sitting on while I crochet.

There have been issues before where Washburn turned into a canine terrorist and has gone after my yarn. It's a heart shattering thing, really. One works so hard to build up their stash - pure or not - and then someone or something attacks it. What I woke up to this morning was no exception.

I forgot to feed Washburn last night. It was a small mistake that anyone could make, given my lack of appropriately firing brain cells after a day of listening to the girls scream and fight. However, I think that what Wash did in retaliation was really, over the top and unnecessary.

I walked out into the living room to a mess that could only have happened after a childrens' party at which all the attendees had been given cans of silly string. My cone of cream-colored cotton was in shambles. My red so-soft had apparently been shaken to get an end loose and then was promptly disemboweled across the center of the cream cotton explosion.

I could have ignored the fact that the hat I was working on was now torn to pieces. That my fuzzy red yarn had been looked at and then carelessly discarded by the sofa. But what broke me down to the point of tears in the middle of the living room floor at 6:03 am?

There, on my green chair, was my white alpaca yarn. Mostly untouched with the exception of a few individual strands that had been chewed until they broke so that it looked like one of those giant koosh balls.

I broke down, y'all. Like a baby. Like a hungry, angry baby. (Bonus points if you get the movie reference.) I sat in the middle of this mess and would have made Kate Winslet proud of my dramatics, scooping up the entrails of yarn and letting them fall back to the floor, dead. Like my soul!

MarvMan heard the insanity. And I'm sure it frightened him. What man wouldn't be frightened hearing his wife sobbing and occasionally incoherently babbling about death and destruction and that damn, stupid dog that is clearly not his wife's but is now his sole property and the root cause of everything from poverty to global warming?

But he saved the day, folks. How? I'll tell you. In his half-asleep, super frightened state, MarvMan walked into the living room and surveyed the destruction. And this, is what he said:

"Honey, it's okay. We'll buy you some more yarn. Okay?"
*sniff, sniff* "Really?"
"Really."
*sniff... sniff.* "Well, okay, then."

Because the only thing better than admiring your extensive stash is being on the hunt for new yarns to expand your stash.

These are the rules, ladies

Posted this on my Facebook, but I couldn't resist cross posting here.

Most of this applies to military wives, but I'm sure it could apply to any women.
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A Military Wife's Ten Commandments

1. It all starts with you. Respect yourself. - Seems like it would be pretty easy, but a lot of people struggle with it. Don't go around acting a fool. Hanging out at the bar is fun - hitting on other guys, acting like an idiot, showing skin = not cool. We're grown women. If you don't respect yourself, no one will respect you. If you don't respect yourself, no one will respect your husband, either.

Which brings us to...

2. Respect your husband. - You can't get respect without giving it first. You also have to earn your respect. Obviously, your husband respected and loved you enough to make you his wife. He saw something in you that he can't live without. Remind him of just how awesome you are and show him love every day. Fights are inevitable, but don't go to bed angry, make up sex is too much fun.

3. The way you act reflects on the rest of us. - People in general lump military wives all together as one collective entity. So if you're a bitch when you're out in town? You've just ruined it for the rest of us, simply because we've got dependent IDs, too. You run around on your husband? Congrats, you've labeled the rest of us as cheating whores. You act a fool at the bar? Gee, thanks, now everyone thinks we're all two drink bitches who can't act properly in public.

4. There is no "what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas". Or anywhere else for that matter. - You fuck up, you better come clean about it, because shit travels fast on the gossip train. Better to be heard straight from the source than from someone else.

5. Respect other people's family units. - Unless you're babysitting and you've been given permission to discipline another wife's kids, you're not their mama. Remember that. If you have kids of your own, spend time working with them. They're your priority, not someone else's kids.

6. A man alone is to be left alone. - You need something from your neighbor but she's not home? If you need it immediately, go ask but stay on the porch. You NEVER go into another woman's house when she's not there. Especially if her husband is home by himself. Not only does it look bad to all the other neighbors peeping out their windows, imagine how it would feel if you came home to find another woman in your house with your husband, playin mama to your kids and making like she runs your house. You'd be ready to slap a bitch, right?

7. Own your shit. - Everything you do. Even the stupid stuff. Own up to it and take responsibility. Manage your life properly, manage your finances properly, run your household smoothly. Life will be easier for you and you'll be able to enjoy your kids and your husband more.

8. What you do at command functions reflects on your husband. - No, this doesn't mean that you have to schmooze the CO's wife. But it also means that you don't go dragging another wife across the dance floor by the hair at the Christmas party just because she looked cross eyed at your husband. Don't chew out your husband's supervisor just because he switched your husband's shift. Guess what, we're married to the military. Shit changes at a moment's notice and there's not a thing you can do about it. Chewing out his supervisor will probably earn him some nasty shit at work.

9. Keep your damn mouth shut. - That whole "loose lips sink ships" thing sounds silly, but it's true. Don't you dare post specific dates of when your man is leaving, coming home, where he is, nothing. Don't even talk about it on the phone. The FBI records approximately 1 out of every 4 phone calls, and terrorists have more time on their hands to do that than the FBI does. Be smart. It's all about OPSEC, ladies. You want him home? Shut your mouth.

10. Tuck and roll, bitches. - Watch each other's backs. Take care of each other. When it comes right down to it, we're all we've got, ladies. Base to base, overseas tours, IA tours, Iraq, Cuba, wherever they go, we're left behind to support each other. Stop the back stabbing bullshit and let's try to act like the grown ass women we say we are.

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I am by no means saying I'm perfect and follow all these rules to a T. Nor am I saying that everyone follows them all the time. It's a daily learning experience. But I know if we all put forth a little more effort, we wouldn't have such a bad rep and we'd probably have better support systems.