For all of the brave men and women that have fought and that have died, so that I can live free.

The things they carried...
They carried P-38 can openers and heat tabs, watches and dog tags, insect repellent, gum, cigarettes, lighters, salt tablets, compress bandages,ponchos, kool-aid, two or three canteens of water, sterno, iodine tablets, LRRP rations and C rations stuffed in socks.
They carried standard fatigues, jungle boots, bush hats, flak jackets and steel pots. They carried M-16 assault rifles. They carried trip flares and claymore mines, M-60 machine guns, M-70 grenade launchers, M-14's, CAR- 15's, Stoners, Swedish K's, 66mm Laws, shotguns,.45 caliber pistols, silencers, the sound of bullets, rockets and choppers and sometimes the sound of silence.
They carried C-4 plastic explosives, an assortment of hand grenades, PRC- 25 radios, knives and machetes. Some risked thier lives for others. Some escaped the fear, but dealt with the damage and death. Some made very hard decisions and some just tried to survive.
They carried malaria, dysentery, ringworms and leeches. They carried the land itself as it hardened on thier boots. They carried staionary, pencils and pictures of thier loved ones- real and imagined.
They carried love for people in the real world and love for one another. And sometimes they disquised that love: " Don't mean nothin" ! They carried memories for the most part, they carried themselves with a poise and kind of dignity.
Now and then, there were times when panic set in, and people cried or wanted to, but couldn't. When they twitched or made moaning sounds and covered thier heads and said " Dear God" and hugged the earth and fired thier weapons blindly and cringed and begged for the noise to stop and went wild and made stupid promises to themselves and God and thier parents, hoping not to die.
They carried the traditions of The United States Military and the memories and the images of those who served before them.
They carried grief, terror, longing and thier reputations. They carried the soldiers greatest fear; The fear of embarrassment and dishonor. They crawled into tunnels, walked point, and advanced under fire. They were afraid of dying, but too afraid to show it.
They carried the emotional baggage of men and women who might die at any moment.
They carried the weight of the world.
They carried each other.

Author unknown.

I was watching a show last night called "the Age of Love". ( I was really, really bored). The premise is; there is some 30 year old hunky Australian Tennis player "looking for love". Yeah right... One week they gave him a choice of a bunch of older women to meet that are in thier 40's. The next week they gave him some women in thier 20's to meet. The poor, poor man. He has to chose which AGE woman that he will love. It gave me the creeps. What it really did was pit the women against each other. They started eying each other like they had leprosy and talking badly about each others ages. MEANWHILE, stud muffin just sits back and enjoys it. There was one older woman that decided that there wasn't a love spark. She was going to tell the man that she was going home. Drum Roll... He calls her name and tells her that HE wants her to "stay". She immediately gets all simpery and says " of course, I'll stay". I wanted to throw a hot cup of reality in her face. I have NEVER competed with another woman for a man. Never will, never would. He likes you or he doesn't ladies. I have dated a much younger man and it didn't work. It lasted two years BUT it wouldn't have worked. Age does matter, I think. Maybe not at first but after the first blush of lust wears off, conversation does matter.
It always boggles my mind how women can turn on each other. For jobs, for clothes, for men. There was a time that women stuck together. We marched together for the right to vote. For equal wages. Women used to deliver each others babies, sit up all night with a sick neighbor. NOW, we compete with each other over a young man, that is probably playing all of them. Wake up ladies. Kick his ass back to Australia. Have some pride. I won't watch that again...

Last night I was thinking of all the time that people waste doing the same thing over and over. We sometimes even expect the same results. I thought of this cool little thing that I read years ago and decided to post it. It was written by Portia Nelson.

CHAPTER 1- I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in....
I am lost.... I am helpless.
It isn't my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

CHAPTER 2- I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend that I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe that I am in the same place.
But... it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

CHAPTER 3- I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in- It's a habit- but, my eyes are open. I
know.
It is my fault... I get out immediately.

CHAPTER 4- I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

CHAPTER 5- I walk down another street.

Hi everyone.
I'm finally home and glad to be here. The time away did me a lot of good. Sometimes, you have to just step back to figure things out. I realized that in spite of everything, that I am blessed. I WILL be ok. I've had a rough few months but I feel hopeful and that's something that I haven't felt for a long, long time. I hope that all of you are doing well. I thought about you and prayed for you and missed you. REALLY missed you. Thank you so much for the Birthday wishes and private messages. They all mean so much to me. What have I missed gang? Love to all of you...

Hi friends, I am going to Mom's for a few days. The bill collectors can't call me there. Monday is my birthday and I am not feeling very happy about it. I am grateful that I'm alive but I always thought at this point in my life, that things would be differant. I think that I need to get off of my pity pot and get it together soooo, see you all next Thursday and love to all of you...