My mom sent me an e-mail the other day telling me that they had made it to "the gates of hell" (little does she know that hell is 5,000miles across the ocean where her daughter and husband sweat in the 79%humidity and 120 degree weather :/) safe and sound . Well, I'm sure the trip was anything but sound. I know how it is when those two are together... the laughs and girlish giggles (amazing for women of their vast maturity (ahem cough cough age)).
It seems like just yesterday my mom, dad, and brother had come to support me as I graduated my basic training. I was so excited as my family came to the field, late I might add. I was panicked as I couldn't find them. It was such a relief when I finally did, and my mom just hugged me. She was crying, and of course I wasn't. I'm tough for that shi... stuff. Ok fine. Maybe my eyes overflowethed a little bit. But any factors could have contributed to that.... Just saying.
What I remember the most though, was driving home in the backseat. I wasn't awake for much. I slept through well-over half the drive. But the few moments I was awake, I remember glaring at Josh. "STOP looking at me like that!" I would yell. He just kept staring at me with this lopsided grin. Then he had the audacity to eat his sandwich like a slob... with only one side of his mouth. He had taken this too far. Between the stares and the sandwich stains on his shirt, I was quickly reminded of how home would be.
It wasn't until his jaw started locking up that I started to feel a twinge of guilt. The hospital stop in Chicago, Illinois really did me in. As many of you know, Josh had gotten Lyme's disease which had resulted in his Bells Palsy. I remember him laying on the bed and pretending like he was dying. It doesn't sound funny, but me and Josh laughed so hard as my mom scolded us.I'm glad his face didn't stay like that.
I don't know why I just wrote all of that, probably because when think of Josh with his face all lopsided, it reminds me that things could always be worse. No, but really, in all reality, it reminds me of the fun me and Josh have. Even at the weirdest and most inconvenient times. It's hard to believe that my little brother who I used to playlegos and Lincoln logs with, the same brother that I could never make eye contact with in church for fear of bursting out in inappropriate laughter and the same brother with the lopsided face... just graduated from Basic Training. That he'll be turning the big 1-8 come September 5th. And that he's really my jumbo little brother now as he towers over me. I'm still stronger, smarter, funnier and better looking though, of course. But still...Congratulations little jumbo brother on graduating from Basic Training... with a straight face and all =] Welcome to the team!
<3 Jacki
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Thursday, August 20, 2009
I love you Mom.
We chose this life that we are living right now. We chose to sign our name on the line to a cause we believe in. We do three months of basic training, followed by however long AIT takes. We’ve chosen to miss birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays, all in the name of a cause that we believe is more worthy than all of that… even more worthy than missed memories.
We choose this life, but for some, this life chooses them. For those that are chosen for this life, they watch as their loved ones sign their name on the line to a cause they may not yet believe in. They ship their loved ones off to basic training and write them countless letters. They anxiously await for their arrival home from AIT. They take one for the team and spend their birthdays, anniversaries, and even holidays with out their loved ones.
And yet, it’s the ones who walk into the battle knowing and accepting the fight that receive all the recognition. How often have you seen a story on an American hero, that wasn’t in uniform? How often do you see a mom who lost a husband, a daughter, and two sons receive a care package to let them know that they are cared for? That somebody believes that they are just as much a part of the fight for freedom?
It’s easy to take for granted the people who wait for me back home. To know that they are there for me when I call at odd hours of the night. To know that they will snap those pictures so I don’t miss out on a weekend at the cabin or a night out with the girls.
It’s harder to realize that those people didn’t ask for this. They are silent heroes, who bear a burden that they never asked for, but yet never complain. And this is for them. For those calls they’ve answered and for the unyielding support they have given to the soldiers. I ask that you keep them in mind when you think about American heroes.
(I love you Mom.)
<3 Me.
We choose this life, but for some, this life chooses them. For those that are chosen for this life, they watch as their loved ones sign their name on the line to a cause they may not yet believe in. They ship their loved ones off to basic training and write them countless letters. They anxiously await for their arrival home from AIT. They take one for the team and spend their birthdays, anniversaries, and even holidays with out their loved ones.
And yet, it’s the ones who walk into the battle knowing and accepting the fight that receive all the recognition. How often have you seen a story on an American hero, that wasn’t in uniform? How often do you see a mom who lost a husband, a daughter, and two sons receive a care package to let them know that they are cared for? That somebody believes that they are just as much a part of the fight for freedom?
It’s easy to take for granted the people who wait for me back home. To know that they are there for me when I call at odd hours of the night. To know that they will snap those pictures so I don’t miss out on a weekend at the cabin or a night out with the girls.
It’s harder to realize that those people didn’t ask for this. They are silent heroes, who bear a burden that they never asked for, but yet never complain. And this is for them. For those calls they’ve answered and for the unyielding support they have given to the soldiers. I ask that you keep them in mind when you think about American heroes.
(I love you Mom.)
<3 Me.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Hello to all. I’m ashamed to admit that it’s been a little bit since I’ve wrote one of these bad boys. So have some updates for you all:
1. I was promoted. That’s right… this is SPECIALIST Crotteau writing this. I feel so empowered. I am having a little trouble answering the phones. It usually goes a little something like this. “G2X, this is PFC… sfasdfsafsdfxxxbdsgfasd. Sorry. This is SPC Crotteau speaking how can I help you sir or ma’am?” So that’s fun. I’ll get used to my new and improved title, but for now I’ll just sound like a baboon on the phone. Also, as far as my promotion ceremony goes, I can tell you that I begged, pleaded and downright implored my father not to make a big deal out of it. PFC to SPC is an automatic promotion, and I really just wanted to have something quiet… a couple people. When I told my dad this, he said “A couple people? Is 3 or 4 ok?” Why yes dad. 3 or 4 is fine. So when 13 or 14 people came from his section alone, I was a little dumfounded. Clearly, something was lost in translation… on his end of course. I should have expected this. It’s not like just one “aunt” or “uncle” could come. They ALL had to be there. It was nice of them to show up and support me, but combined with the people in my section, we had a full house. The exact opposite of what I wanted. Go figure.
2. New shift! I work from noon to midnight now. I expected that I would be working more (on my last shift we got done with our work at midnight and had time for “personal advancement.” This is code for surfing the internet and watching movies) because I would be in when all the action, so to speak, was happening. Instead, I have been working on my chess skills. Let’s just say that at this point, I am only accidentally good. While many of the people in my office think I know and calculate my moves 3 ahead or whatever you’re supposed to do, I’m just moving. Boy do I have them fooled. I’ll get purposely good soon and then they won’t even know what hit them. Boo-yah!
3. I have fallen in love. Head over heels in love. You guys are the first to hear it. I love my ham and provolone cheese sandwich with a couple of cucumber slices to top it off. I have him for lunch and dinner. I just can’t get enough of him! I usually toast him… and he is DELICIOUS! Just thought you guys should know…
That’s really all the interesting stuff that’s going down in the hood (Basrah). Now that I’m getting used to my new shift, and the novelty of chess is wearing off, I’ll be writing more. Lucky you guys =]
Hope this finds you guys healthy and happy!
Sending my love from Basrah to home,
Jacki
p.s. Today I got a card that read “Hang in there… sometimes life hands you lemons, but then you can make lemonade.” I opened the inside and read “Of course, sometimes life pulls down your pants, runs a power sander across your naked butt, then pours lemon juice on your raw, abraded buttocks. In that case, a cool citrus drink wouldn’t really help, but darn it… you’ve got to hang in there anyway!” This made me laugh unbelievably hard. It’s pretty much put into words what I live by. So thank-you Travis!!! The card brought a laugh from the rest of my office too =]
1. I was promoted. That’s right… this is SPECIALIST Crotteau writing this. I feel so empowered. I am having a little trouble answering the phones. It usually goes a little something like this. “G2X, this is PFC… sfasdfsafsdfxxxbdsgfasd. Sorry. This is SPC Crotteau speaking how can I help you sir or ma’am?” So that’s fun. I’ll get used to my new and improved title, but for now I’ll just sound like a baboon on the phone. Also, as far as my promotion ceremony goes, I can tell you that I begged, pleaded and downright implored my father not to make a big deal out of it. PFC to SPC is an automatic promotion, and I really just wanted to have something quiet… a couple people. When I told my dad this, he said “A couple people? Is 3 or 4 ok?” Why yes dad. 3 or 4 is fine. So when 13 or 14 people came from his section alone, I was a little dumfounded. Clearly, something was lost in translation… on his end of course. I should have expected this. It’s not like just one “aunt” or “uncle” could come. They ALL had to be there. It was nice of them to show up and support me, but combined with the people in my section, we had a full house. The exact opposite of what I wanted. Go figure.
2. New shift! I work from noon to midnight now. I expected that I would be working more (on my last shift we got done with our work at midnight and had time for “personal advancement.” This is code for surfing the internet and watching movies) because I would be in when all the action, so to speak, was happening. Instead, I have been working on my chess skills. Let’s just say that at this point, I am only accidentally good. While many of the people in my office think I know and calculate my moves 3 ahead or whatever you’re supposed to do, I’m just moving. Boy do I have them fooled. I’ll get purposely good soon and then they won’t even know what hit them. Boo-yah!
3. I have fallen in love. Head over heels in love. You guys are the first to hear it. I love my ham and provolone cheese sandwich with a couple of cucumber slices to top it off. I have him for lunch and dinner. I just can’t get enough of him! I usually toast him… and he is DELICIOUS! Just thought you guys should know…
That’s really all the interesting stuff that’s going down in the hood (Basrah). Now that I’m getting used to my new shift, and the novelty of chess is wearing off, I’ll be writing more. Lucky you guys =]
Hope this finds you guys healthy and happy!
Sending my love from Basrah to home,
Jacki
p.s. Today I got a card that read “Hang in there… sometimes life hands you lemons, but then you can make lemonade.” I opened the inside and read “Of course, sometimes life pulls down your pants, runs a power sander across your naked butt, then pours lemon juice on your raw, abraded buttocks. In that case, a cool citrus drink wouldn’t really help, but darn it… you’ve got to hang in there anyway!” This made me laugh unbelievably hard. It’s pretty much put into words what I live by. So thank-you Travis!!! The card brought a laugh from the rest of my office too =]
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Gardening Shears-
Some days, I feel as if I have contracted the black plague or the swine flu. It’s the oddest feeling. I think I’ve pinpointed the source of this disconcerting sensation. What has grey hair, goes by the alias of “Davis” or Dad, and is a Sergeant Major in the U.S. Army? DING DING DING! We have a winner. Now, it’s not so much the whole dad part about it that catches people, and by people I mean the opposite gender, up.
It’s more the title. I should have this expected from the first time I went on a real date. He handed my date a list of “10 Rules to Dating a SGM’s Daughter”. I begged my date not to laugh. “For the love of god! Do you know what you have just done? You NEVER laugh. It only encourages him.” But he couldn’t understand…
Fast forward to when me and Doug started dating. Doug was blessed to find a very large set of gardening shears. This was a warning from my dad. Something along the lines of “You hurt her, and I will neuter you.” Really pleasant, right? I don’t know if it was before or after that warning that Doug found multiple copies of “the rules” strategically scattered throughout his room. I blame my first date for this…
Fast forward to now. My dad has become so advanced in his “scare” techniques. The guy only has to know that my dad is a SGM and he visibly backs away. This makes it very difficult to have any friends of the opposite gender, let alone acquaintances. In fact, the other day I made an innocent joke to my dad about the opposite gender, and he threatened utilizing my “aunts” and “uncles” as undercover spies. Is nothing sacred anymore?
But what really cinched this feeling of some highly infectious disease, was the other night when I was in the computer lab. I was talking to the person sitting next to me. Innocently chatting about cars and volleyball and whatever else came to mind. He lives in St. Cloud and so he knew of the area where our cabin is. I mentioned that when my dad retires, my parents will eventually move up to the Osakis area. After saying that… I could see in his eyes that he was catching on. “What does your dad do?” I looked at him… nervous to answer. “He’s in the army.” “Still? What unit is he in?” I hesitated. “34th Id…” “Wait… is he… here?” I answered, more hesitantly than before. “Yes…” “What? Is he like a SGM or something” He said with a laugh. “Yes….” And then, he scooted away. Just like that. He moved his chair over. And looked at me, with panic in his eyes.
And from here on out, if anyone asks… my dad is an accountant. Accountants just don’t strike a sense of fear into people like SGM do. I’m joking… but don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind.
It’s more the title. I should have this expected from the first time I went on a real date. He handed my date a list of “10 Rules to Dating a SGM’s Daughter”. I begged my date not to laugh. “For the love of god! Do you know what you have just done? You NEVER laugh. It only encourages him.” But he couldn’t understand…
Fast forward to when me and Doug started dating. Doug was blessed to find a very large set of gardening shears. This was a warning from my dad. Something along the lines of “You hurt her, and I will neuter you.” Really pleasant, right? I don’t know if it was before or after that warning that Doug found multiple copies of “the rules” strategically scattered throughout his room. I blame my first date for this…
Fast forward to now. My dad has become so advanced in his “scare” techniques. The guy only has to know that my dad is a SGM and he visibly backs away. This makes it very difficult to have any friends of the opposite gender, let alone acquaintances. In fact, the other day I made an innocent joke to my dad about the opposite gender, and he threatened utilizing my “aunts” and “uncles” as undercover spies. Is nothing sacred anymore?
But what really cinched this feeling of some highly infectious disease, was the other night when I was in the computer lab. I was talking to the person sitting next to me. Innocently chatting about cars and volleyball and whatever else came to mind. He lives in St. Cloud and so he knew of the area where our cabin is. I mentioned that when my dad retires, my parents will eventually move up to the Osakis area. After saying that… I could see in his eyes that he was catching on. “What does your dad do?” I looked at him… nervous to answer. “He’s in the army.” “Still? What unit is he in?” I hesitated. “34th Id…” “Wait… is he… here?” I answered, more hesitantly than before. “Yes…” “What? Is he like a SGM or something” He said with a laugh. “Yes….” And then, he scooted away. Just like that. He moved his chair over. And looked at me, with panic in his eyes.
And from here on out, if anyone asks… my dad is an accountant. Accountants just don’t strike a sense of fear into people like SGM do. I’m joking… but don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Salsa Dancing
There I was cocooned In my room on my night off. I had kind of ditched out of the festivities that many soldiers were taking part in outside. There was a barbeque and a brass band playing, also spectators had gathered to watch volleyball. I however, was just glad it was finally my night off. It's how I gauge how much time has lapsed here. I don't think in terms of Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and so forth... I think in terms of I've had 5 days off, so I've been here 5 weeks.
Anyways, I was settled in... watching some trashy teen drama that I haven't been able to stop watching since I've gotten here (I'm almost done with the entire series... 4 seasons down baby! WOOOO!). When I hear my door open, and my roommate comes in with a smirk and offers a “really” sincere “I'm so sorry....” I could tell that she wasn't all that sorry as our friend Cody followed behind her. Clearly, he was here on a mission and he had dragged innocent Weezy (my roommate) into his plot.
“No. No. No. I said no.” I said at the sight of him. I knew why he had come... in all my days of living, after those fateful dance classes offered at J&L where I learned that I was not only a graceless dancer, but that I could do a mean bear crawl... complete with the “rawring” you would expect to come out of said bear. Needless to say, I rarely danced after that. So, in recap, I don't dance. I'm an awful dancer. While I can appreciate the grace that my friends have while dancing (all of them were also in dance and two of them have continued to pursue their passion through college), I cannot, for the sake of others, allow myself to dance. It's just downright cruel.
Anyways, my dear friend Cody, had come by to teach me to salsa dance. Salsa dance... of all things. Every time he has asked, I have effectively thwarted his efforts. “I don't dance.” “I have to work.” “I have to bake cookie with my grandma.” “Tonight is my night to wash my hair.” “I have an ingrown toenail.” And clearly, I was not effective enough. Because, tonight, he sneak attacked me... and taught me how to salsa dance. I feel like if I were to step outside... pigs would fall from the sky. Hell (Iraq) will have frozen over.
Regardless, now I have to go to salsa dancing at Echo's (it's a bar without the alcohol that would normally make it a bar). I have run out of excuses.... and besides I don't think he was buying them anyways.
Anyways, I was settled in... watching some trashy teen drama that I haven't been able to stop watching since I've gotten here (I'm almost done with the entire series... 4 seasons down baby! WOOOO!). When I hear my door open, and my roommate comes in with a smirk and offers a “really” sincere “I'm so sorry....” I could tell that she wasn't all that sorry as our friend Cody followed behind her. Clearly, he was here on a mission and he had dragged innocent Weezy (my roommate) into his plot.
“No. No. No. I said no.” I said at the sight of him. I knew why he had come... in all my days of living, after those fateful dance classes offered at J&L where I learned that I was not only a graceless dancer, but that I could do a mean bear crawl... complete with the “rawring” you would expect to come out of said bear. Needless to say, I rarely danced after that. So, in recap, I don't dance. I'm an awful dancer. While I can appreciate the grace that my friends have while dancing (all of them were also in dance and two of them have continued to pursue their passion through college), I cannot, for the sake of others, allow myself to dance. It's just downright cruel.
Anyways, my dear friend Cody, had come by to teach me to salsa dance. Salsa dance... of all things. Every time he has asked, I have effectively thwarted his efforts. “I don't dance.” “I have to work.” “I have to bake cookie with my grandma.” “Tonight is my night to wash my hair.” “I have an ingrown toenail.” And clearly, I was not effective enough. Because, tonight, he sneak attacked me... and taught me how to salsa dance. I feel like if I were to step outside... pigs would fall from the sky. Hell (Iraq) will have frozen over.
Regardless, now I have to go to salsa dancing at Echo's (it's a bar without the alcohol that would normally make it a bar). I have run out of excuses.... and besides I don't think he was buying them anyways.
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