My blog is pretty much boobless at this point and that seems to have left both Rabid Alien and MSgt B longing for a little something. As I aim to please…
I literally goggled the word “boobs” which lead me to AcidCow.com. I am off for a whole weekend of family time. You all enjoy the pics.
I have been thinking about how to write this post without it appearing like I am trying to skirt responsibility or make light of a mistake I made.
I believe that I am nice. In fact, I think one of my major flaws is that I am nice. I think being nice is, in part, what screwed me that day in the parking lot. Not completely and not to take away responsibility for what I didn’t do that day, but nonetheless, I am nice.
I like being nice. I have been hurt and I have never wanted to be hurtful to someone else. I am not perfect, so of course, I have, but I consciously try not to be mean and hurtful. I have unfortunately had a whole lot of not nice in my life and I try very hard not to be the kind of person that takes advantage of the moment and causes another person harm.
I have had, rarely, someone make comments on their blog or mine that were unkind and mostly based on a misunderstanding of the facts (although I don’t believe he/she cares much about facts) and while it doesn’t bother me, I prefer kindness.
So, here I am this ‘nice” person trying to find her way between standing up for herself and being kind and sometimes I fail.
I saw the picture of a lovely lady holding a gun in a manner I truly believe to be unsafe and scary and I reacted in an unkind way. I knew almost immediately that what I said was not me. The next day I included my thoughts in a post about how I regretted not my message, but my snark because I knew my previous post was not how I want to treat people.
Today the photographer of that photo contacted me in a rather upset way and asked me to remove the photo. I did and she sent a very pleasant email thanking me and the matter was finished. No legal action was going to take place. Full stop. End of it. This is not about her or her email. It is about me temporarily being someone who I am not and wanting to say I am sorry to the young lady in the photo.
I do honestly believe that, that photo could have dangerous and negative effects on new and naive shooters, but the reality is, I could have and should have handled that concern in a more responsible and caring manner.
I hate that I hurt someone and it really doesn’t much matter if you are an asshole on purpose or just a chick with a blog…mean is mean. Harming someone in any manner is not a good thing. I am deeply sorry that something I said did just that.
So, I am over at Evyl Robot’s site and see that we have let this man down. Here he is wearing his kilt all over the place doing everything he can to put an end to cancer and he has gotten pretty much zippo for his efforts.
I felt shame as I realized I had not supported one of my favorite people on his mission to do good.
Not only is his cause worthy, but now he is offering goodies to a few lucky donors. Head on over and toss a few bucks his way so we can kick cancers butt.
I love them. I do not know anything about them, but I am endlessly fascinating by them.
Yesterday a package arrived from my friend Ce. She comments on the blog as poniegirl. She is one of those really cool people that makes you glad you are alive and lucked out to not only cross paths with her, but actually get to be friends with. She is just that cool. Her hubby, Mark is also very cool. When I broke my ribs all he said was, “Well, that’s what you get for f$@&ing with a Marine.” I like him.
So, this package…Ce had told me that her hubby made me a knife and it was on it’s way. What I didn’t know was that he also included a knife for TSM. A very awesome surprise. Here was how they were packaged…
The top picture is my knife; the bottom one TSM’s
My knife. The handle is South American Red Wood…gorgeous! Mine is nickelson file. I don’t know what it means, but the blade is crazy sharp. I spent the entire night cutting everything including cardboard boxes, an unfolded newspaper, a shoestring and some arm hair just cuz I always see people doing that.
I should have tucked my shirt in and looked more picture like, but I wasn’t paying attention when my son took the shot. It’s me in my natural habitat doing my normal activity…eating (in this case an orange) and texting.
TSM’s knife. It is made from coffee and cream bamboo and is (or has, I don’t understand the lingo yet)a farriers rasp. Again, no clue, but a crazy fricken cool knife. Very comfortable in the hand. The sheaths are made from saddle leather.
These are not self defense knives per se. Of course, we know that when our life is on the line anything and everything from a chopstick to a gun can be used to fight for our lives, but these are made as utility knives.
Here are a few YouTube videos that other people made that show off what these knives can do.
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Good news is these are fabulous knives. Bad news is that Mark is no longer taking any orders.
We are very fortunate to have such neat people in our lives. Thank you Ce and Mark for our knives. We love them!!!
P.S. Holy crap, I think I actually inserted the videos all by myself!!!
I was on the Seal of Honor FaceBook page and saw this photo…
I was struck by a wave of emotions. This one picture displays courage, strength, sacrifice, bravery, honor, and love. Curious I began to search the page and came across this…
I think it is remarkable that someone who has sacrificed so much is still continuing to give. I love when he says that he wants those that have been wounded to be proud of their scars and wounds.
Indeed. He is so right. Those scars represent much honor and deserve to be displayed with great pride. They were earned. So many people talk of a life of honor, but so few live it. These men are living it on and off the battlefield. I asked Barron to put a link on the side bar to Wounded Wear. Just one more way you and I can support those that are scarred so that we may live free.
The other day Brigid posted a lovely post followed by a recipe for Mauser Muffins. They looked so delicious that I whipped up a few batches that afternoon. TSM and I took a few to our daughter and her friends at the Field Hockey game. To say they were a hit would be an understatement.
I made them and then literally ran out the door, so the picture does not do them justice, but I am telling you, food issues or not…TRY THESE MUFFINS.
My daughter loves all the flavors of Fall, so my plan is to make another batch, but this time leave out the blueberries and add pumpkin.
I stand by everything I said in yesterday’s post about firearms safety, but I do regret being so snarky. I was feeling mighty feisty due to the attack on our Embassy and the whole being led by a wimp of a president thing. I should have ran first to settle myself and posted later.
I think MSgt. B does a fine job of illustrating the point.
Great post on the importance of doing more than simply carrying a gun.
And lastly, taking an EMT class with my hubby might not have been the best decision. The dude does not stop talking.
Instructor- Never tell a patient or their family something like, “You can always have another child.”
TSM- “Hell, they can have one of mine”.
Me- I giggle slightly.
Instructor- “If your partner or supervisor are sexually harassing you, you don’t have to put up with it. There are procedures for dealing with that kind of thing”.
TSM- “Babe, you can grab my butt anytime”.
Me- I just look at him.
Instructor-“A palmar grasp is when a person puts their finger(or anything) in a baby’s hand and the baby naturally grasps it”.
TSM- “The trick is getting them to pull it”.
Me- SHHHHHHHH!
It’s going to be a long 4 months.
Ambulance Driver and a several other bloggers of the male persuasion are doing a fundraiser called Kilted To Kick Cancer and they could use your help.
It was hard for me to decide which blogger to donate through, so I went with the local contingency, Old NFO, but it really doesn’t matter. The important thing is that we all join together and help out. Go here to see who is participating and please consider giving a dollar or two or twenty.
Over the past few months I have had the pleasure of getting to know Kimberly Walsh. She is a smart, caring, passionate woman who is venturing out in order to help other women take more control over their own lives and safety.
In her own words. “I really want to do some good with this and help women be safe and I know not every woman feels comfortable carrying a gun. This way I can help them at any level they feel comfortable with.”
Sometimes we get so stuck in what we do and what we believe that we forget to meet people where they are at. Kimberly is trying to do just that.
Please go check out her products at Damsel In Defense and spread the word.
I like to forget painful things. For the most part it works. It isn’t that I bury them and never deal. It is that I deal as fast as I can, move on and on the occasion that the memory pops back up, I usually etch-a -sketch it out of my mind. I will literally be daydreaming and then shake my head, forcing it out and then move on. Eventually the memories and their impact on me lesson and I can recall or discus the event without tears or much emotion thus healing has occurred, at least for me.
There are two events that doesn’t work with. The day my brother committed suicide, May 8th, 2001 and the day our country was attacked, September 11, 2001. That was a bad year. I can recall with scary detail every single second of both those days and both days still elicit strong emotions of pain and sadness.
On May 8th I learned that the loss of a loved one unexpectedly, regardless of cause, is so devastatingly painful there are literally no words. The pain so envelops you that even though the world continues to spin and go about it’s business, yours is frozen in what seems like a horror movie perpetually playing in slow motion. On September 11th and the days that followed, I learned what sacrifice means.
On September 11th we lived in California just outside of Camp Pendleton. My husband was already on the base serving as the HQ Battalion Logistics officer. Eventually he would become the Truck Co CO 1st Marine Division and lead 435 Marines across the Line of Departure. That day embarked us on a crazy almost surreal journey. One that to this day hasn’t really ended for any of us.
I remember sitting on the couch in our upstairs TV room not really watching some football game while my husband painted the walls feverishly. It was the night before he was to leave for Iraq and for some reason it was vitally important to him that he finish painting that room. I was once again frozen. I did not want my husband to die for his country, our country and I did not want him to die for you. I wanted him to curl up on the couch with me in a half painted room and live life like we had on September 10th 2001. My husband came home from that war. A blessing that seems random, but one I am thankful for nonetheless.
I always want to commemorate this day somehow, but find that I either say too much or not enough. Everything seems trite. I would rather not say anything, but silence leaves the impression of not caring or not remembering and that couldn’t be further from the truth.
So, as I struggle with the right thing to say, go read Weer’d’s post. I think he says it very well. What a gift it would be for further generations to have the blessing of a peaceful nation and so much healing they won’t remember what happened on that day, but for us, for those that lived it, that lost friends and loved ones, for those of us still fighting the effects of what has happened to our country because of it…we will never forget.