You might be a military family …

After years of wading through military acronyms, I still get confused.  Here are a few tips on how to tell if you might be a military family …

… if your ETA is 17:30.
… if you skipped the annual tax-free weekend for back-to-school sales because the PX is tax-free year-round.
… if you have to show an ID to go grocery shopping.
… if you’ve spent more time away from your spouse than under the same roof.
… if your kids know more country capitals than state capitals.
… if the Rear Det CPT is POC of the RFO for your TDY.
… if you ordered your Christmas gifts online through AAFES.
… if your well behaved kid is a “brat.”
… if you have traveled to more countries than states.
… if DFAS screwed up your paycheck … again.
… if you know how to absentee vote but are unsure where to find your local poling site.
… if your son asks for a “high & tight” as his summer haircut and a “fade” for the winter.
… if you know someone who volunteers for MIRC or AFRP (and if you do, give them a hug & say thanks!).
… if your kid’s top choices for what s/he wants to be when s/he grows up are paratrooper, helicopter pilot and tank driver.
… if R&R means much, much more than an afternoon at the spa.
… if your team scores and you yell, “Hooah!”
… if your spouse phones home via Skype.
… if your kid needs to go no farther than your closet to dress up for “camo day” at school.
… if you’ve ever tied a yellow ribbon around a tree in your yard.

To all of our military family & friends (and to those who love & support us) – thanks!

What do theories mean in real life?

One of the ways I try to make sense of my graduate school studies is finding real-life applications to theories. I try to picture myself listening to the scholar, philosopher, etc. and either put myself in their shoes or imagine what their audience would be thinking. (I’ve found that this is a helpful tool in Bible study, too, but today I’m talking about school, in particular.)

I often picture other people who remind me of the scholar/author. For instance, my dear husband has a very Socratic way of answering questions with questions, which drives me batty, but it did give me a greater appreciation for Plato and his contemporaries.

This week, we’re reading about behavioralism and post-behavioralism, and I had a couple of “A-ha!” moments that I thought I’d share with you:

One has to do with metrics, which is a way to quantify job performance. In my field it could mean the number of grant proposals submitted each year, dollar amount raised and number of personal visits to donors. Metrics have their place in goal-setting, but I do not believe they should be the end-all-be-all to performance evaluation, because there are too many factors outside of our control. I can control (in a limited sense) the number of proposals I submit, but if my goal is to send out as many as possible (aka, the “shotgun approach”), it might not be as effective as sending out fewer, strategic requests (the “arrow approach”) that may have a better chance of getting funded. Metrics would be considered a behavioral tool, because it’s measurable.

The other lightbulb moment came when I realized why I like to make practical applications to theories. That’s a post-behavioral mindset! I don’t think I’ve ever labeled myself into a certain school of thought before, but from what I’ve read so far, post-behavioral seems to fit. This perspective wants to find the link between conducting practical research and putting the research to use. What does it mean, and what do we do with the information? Those are questions the post-behavioralist wants to know, and those are the very questions I think about while I’m reading.

It’s ok if you think I’m a dork; now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find some white tape for my glasses …

A doozie of a milestone

I hesitated to write this post, because I can count on one hand the number of people who know my starting weight on April 1, 2010, and some of you are smart cookies who can reverse the math from earlier posts and figure it out. You know what, though? If sharing my journey encourages someone else, then I need to suck up my pride and humble myself, because this is such a doozie of a milestone, I simply can’t keep the joy inside.

Ready for it? … I am in the one hundreds!!!

199.2, to be exact. Just looking at that number seems so foreign; I’ve only seen triple-digits beginning with “2” for more than a decade. I’m happy, happy, happy! This also puts me less than 20 lbs away from my goal weight, which is another tangible Hooray for me.

Some “ideal weight” charts that I’ve seen put my would-be goal at 140-160, for my height but I’ve had my sights set on 180 from the beginning. I know that’s a healthy weight for me, and I would be will be pleased as punch to see it again. Heck, I weighed 135-140 when I graduated high school, and I’m not sure that would be an optimal size for me at this age; I wasn’t underweight back then, by any means, but come on – seriously? – I’ve borne three children. Stretchmarks preclude me from EVER wearing a bikini again, and besides, I’m happy to have a few womanly curves.

Last week, I met a couple of colleagues who I knew via email but had never met in person. It occurred to me after our meeting that they have never known the “before” Me, just the “after-in-progress” Me! 🙂

Laughter [at yourself] is good medicine

Text-to-video posts seem to be all the rage these days. I find most of them corny, but this one about seeking a doctorate in Political Science made me laugh aloud (literally, LOL). I could relate to the student with vague dreams but no concrete plan on how to achieve them.

When I tell people that I’m working on my DPA, the most frequently asked follow-up question is: “What do you want to do when you finish it?” I need a better elevator speech, because I’m not sure how to answer that in a simple phrase (or even a couple of sentences). What do I want to do when I grow up?

Hmmm …

I enjoy working in Development, but my upward mobility in the university setting is limited. It’s possible that I could work in another administrative capacity, provided that another division has as little succession planning in place as my division. What I think would be fun and challenging is to work in a center or institute within a university that focuses on policy research, etc. I also enjoy being in the classroom (Clarification: university setting, not a classroom of children), and I think I would enjoy being a faculty member.

Whatever the future holds, we’ll see what happens. I appreciated the tongue-in-cheek humor about the value of obtaining a terminal degree, and even when the future seems uncertain, I think it’s healthy to be able to laugh at yourself.

Rosemary “tea” as lice deterrent?

Our oldest is in 5th grade this year, and thus far, we have avoided lice. Without fail, we receive a letter from a least one kid’s teacher (or daycare teacher, back in the day) each year that a case of lice has been reported in their room.  Now that the little two are in kindergarten, I realized that our odds of remaining lice-free are slimmer and slimmer. So, I did some cursory research to find recommended preventative measures.

We half-joke that since they’re all boys, we could go the extreme route if someone does get lice: shave them bald. They’ve had “Army” haircuts off and on for years, and most of them prefer their hair short over long, anyway.  (The 11yo is postponing a haircut as long as possible right now so that he can dress in character for his Albert Einstein report next week. You think I’m kidding?)

Anyway, back to the prevention ideas. From what I read, it looks like rosemary, lavender and tea tree oil are recommended as lice deterrents. I don’t happen to keep lavender oil or tea tree oil on hand, but I did have an almost-full herb container of rosemary that has been in the pantry for years, so I figured I’d try an experiment.

I ground the rosemary into powder using a mortar and pestle, then steeped it in hot water to make “tea.” I strained out the herb with a paper towel and let it cool, then dipped a plastic comb into the “tea” and wet the boys’ hair (particularly behind the ears and nape of the neck, which is where I read that you should apply the lavender/tea tree oil). The aroma is nominal, so no worries about the boys smelling like perfume.

So, I’ll keep you posted on whether or not it helps. I am going to try to remember to douse them every day with it, at least until I run out of the “tea” concoction. I figured that it certainly couldn’t hurt, and if it keeps the lice away, then score one for not having to buy expensive chemical shampoo and that awful wire comb to scrape out the nits. *eww* I shiver just thinking about it.

What a Monday!

In all humility, I don’t think it’s too bold of a statement to say that I’m a pretty likable person. I build rapport easily with people, and I believe that I am respected among my peers. I make mistakes, sure, and I could rattle off plenty of scenarios that I wish I could reenact. All in all, though, people tend to smile when I walk into a room, and I have few enemies in the world.

Today, though, I managed to tick off both a colleague AND a dean. How’s that for starting off the week on a positive note?!? There is no sense rehashing the nitty-gritty details here; suffice it to say that I stood my ground on a couple of matters where we were in disagreement. (The situations were unrelated, ironically enough … I upset them each for completely different reasons).

I don’t like the idea of having tense working relationships with anyone, but I stand by my scruples in both situations, and if I had it to do over, I think I would have responded similarly. Going forward will be interesting, because I’m not sure how smoothly the water will flow under the bridge for a while. I will do my best to remain impartial and professional, as I’d like to think is my usual custom.

Adopted grandparents

Back in the early ’90s, I spent a summer doing missions work in south Texas. The sponsoring organization made a prayer calendar with our names & locations for church members to use as a reference while we were serving. I was spending the summer at the host pastor’s home, and one day, I received a letter in the mail with a $10 bill from a stranger — a woman who had been praying for me and felt compelled to write and send me some spending money. (I was thrilled, because I was Broke with a capital “B!”)

She lived in another part of the state, but we began a pen-pal friendship that summer, and she and I have corresponded over the years since. I went to visit her on a couple of occasions and saw her a few times a year when we lived in the Dallas area. We lovingly joke that we “adopted” each other. She has two grown daughters who are my mom’s age – neither of whom have children. Most of my grandparents died when I was young, so our relationship as “adopted” grandma & granddaughter blossomed.

Unfortunately, I lost touch with her a little over two years ago, and with all of the changes our family has undergone, I just let time get away from me. I felt compelled a couple of weeks ago to find her again, and I was pleased to track down her name to a retirement home not far from her old address. I sent her a letter and included pictures of the boys (she didn’t know about our expanded family, of course) and hoped that I would hear from her. (I tried not to think of the worst case scenario: that I had waited too long to get back in touch.)

How thrilled I was to receive a letter from her in the mail yesterday! It warmed my heart to hear from her and know that she’s doing as well as can be expected, at her advanced age. I’m thankful for this woman God placed in my life all those years ago and for the chance to reconnect with her. She’s a special lady.

Kinda quiet

I’m still here, just haven’t had much to say the past few days. I’m feeling a bit frustrated about some things (and more than a bit frustrated about a few others), but I didn’t want to write a whining post, so I just decided to lay low.

Not to mention, I had a dream last night that I was at a meeting, got upset about the way they were handling matters, told a couple of people exactly what was on my mind (and not in my inside voice) and got myself fired. How’s that for a splendid way to start the morning? Perhaps my subconscious was working through some anxiety … ya think?!?

The things I'll do to avoid cooking Thanksgiving dinner

I haven’t been able to jog for a few weeks, thanks to my aforementioned complications. Unfortunately, the problems just got worse the more I tried to exercise, so I finally went back to my doc. Long story short (and to spare you the TMI), it looks like I’ll be having surgery the week of Thanksgiving.

I’m not upset about it; on the contrary, I’m very glad that my docs were in agreement about what needed to be done and the expediency with which they’ve arranged the procedure. I’m doubly grateful that it’s over the holiday weekend, because I don’t have a lot of sick time built up, so I’ll save a few days’ worth. Doc says I need to stay home for a week, so that should work out swimmingly.

The added bonus is not having to travel or cook for Thanksgiving! :p  Is that selfish? Oh, well.  I joked with my husb that he and the boys could go visit family, and I’ll stay home and recuperate. He laughed at me. The nerve! 😉

Dressing up

I had the chance to go to the Texas Renaissance Festival this weekend with a girlfriend, and we had a great time dressing up in costumes pieced together from thrift store finds and hand-me-downs. The festival is not far from my brother’s cemetery, so I wanted to stop by on the way and check to make sure the flowers still looked nice, etc.

As we were getting ready that morning in our hotel, I laughed out loud at a thought that flitted into my head. My friend asked what it was, and I told her that I realized we were going to the cemetery dressed in medieval costumes. At first, I thought it might be disrespectful, but the reason I laughed was because I think my brother would love it! The Ren Fest was one of his favorite annual events, though I haven’t been since I was a teenager.

So, I hiked up my long skirt to keep from getting it dirty, traipsed across the grass and squatted down in the dirt next to his grave. I used a fallen leaf to dust off the headstone as I chuckled to myself. I’m glad no one else was around, because who knows what they would have thought of us. Hey – at least I was dressed as a maiden and not a gypsy! 🙂

The Ren Fest was a lot of fun, and little memories of my brother came back to me throughout the day, especially when we browsed through shops that I know he would like. People in the crowd – costumed and in street clothes – reminded me of him. I saw “him” as a husky middle schooler gnawing on a turkey leg, a too-cool-to-be-walking-around-with-my-parents teenager and a young father carrying his son on his shoulders.

When I was a teenager and he was a tween, we didn’t get along at all. Thankfully, things changed when we grew up, and I think we would have had a lot of fun together this weekend.