This Side of Invisible

Today I learned that Congress is trying to cut my spouse's military retirement by 124K.  This literally makes me sick.  Our politicians have become so out of touch with America and its people; it's maddening.  So I wrote to my Senators in hopes that they might reconnect with the military families of America... if only through my little one here in Texas.  And I hope that no matter what the cause is, that you will write to your senators and congressmen, that you will picket, that you will organize groups to lobby, that, whether or not you agree with me politically, you will find something that matters to you and that you will do something, anything, about it, to help maintain a government for the people and by the people.  Throw tea for all I care, just do something. I sent the follwing letter to Senator Ted Cruz: Dear Senator Cruz, First of all, you are my hero for fighting the Affordable Care Act and all its unconstitutional ridiculousness.  Secondly, I'm hopin

There is verse of scripture that reads:   " for the  Spirit  speaketh the  truth  and lieth not. Wherefore, it speaketh of things as they really  are , and of things as they really will be; wherefore, these things are manifested unto us  plainly , for the salvation of our souls. " ( Jacob 4:13 )  And this morning as I lounged in my bed, refusing to get out from under my down comforter, there was a bit of truth running around in my head.  A touch of something as it really is that has been nagging at me and, finally, I was able to give it a name. Romance. Wait.  What? That's right, I'm talking about romance.  Can the Spirit teach us about such things?  Certainly. You see, I posted this to facebook two nights ago:   "Writing poetry by firelight. My world is rather romantic. Or it would be if boys weren't having a bionicle war at my feet,  the laundry from winter ice storm adventures wasn't piling up  and dear husband wasn't asking for

It was a dreary English January morning, the sky was an oppressive grey and cold, wet mist enveloped everything. The kids had mad cabin fever and my husband was deployed to an unnamable location.  We were nearing the end of a trying Christmas holiday--everyone had had strep, which, when you have a child with Asperger's and the doctor wants a throat culture means you've just gone to Hell and Back; Thing 1 had climbed atop a radiator and pulled it off the wall, dumping gallon upon gallon of boiling black water onto the office floor; it was our first holiday without Daddy, you get the picture--and I was pushing aside my guilt and instead allowing myself to revel in excitement that the kids would soon be going back to school. And then, red gatorade. My arch nemesis. I hate red drinks.  Whoever invented them... is not my favorite person. An entire 20 oz bottle of red gatorade spilled on my  my landlord's carpet!  In the middle of the living room.  No furniture was going to