2012

A River of Snot

So the Smart Man and I were supposed to go to a nice dinner tonight to bring in the New Year. Unfortunately, I am currently drowning in a river of snot, and I didn't think spending $200 on an evening out when my best trick would be sneezing into the appetizer would be a good use of resources. So it's home for us this year.

Also? My friend Nathan tells me that "River of Snot" is his new band name. I'm so glad I could help.

Please die in a fire

2012 was not the best year evah. My family lost one of our lovely aunties. We lost our beloved Boogie. Seems like everyone we know was struggling to a greater or lesser extent with crappy things happening to them and theirs. I'm just ready for 2012 to be OVER, thankyouverymuch.

But it wasn't all bad

On the bright side, I did make a professional change that was basically nothing but good. In spite of my "Vestibule of Hell" travel schedule, I'm doing work that matters to me, that has value to the communities I visit, and I'm working with some really stellar people. I'm calling this a "win." Well, it's a "win" providing those yutzes in Washington don't push us off the fiscal cliff, resulting in massive layoffs in the Military Industrial Complex.

Speaking of 2012...

Dave Berry has his annual 2012 recap up, and it's as hilarious as ever. The money quote is from October:

With polls showing a very tight race, the final weeks of the campaign are a textbook example of what this great experiment called “American democracy” is all about: two opposing political parties, each with valid positions, spending hundreds of millions of dollars on comically simplistic radio and TV ads designed by consultants to terrify ill-informed halfwits.

Just so.

But on a better, lighter note, here's some advice for 2013. 

Klassy with a "K"

I learned the other day that the parents of a child who went to Sandy Hook Elementary - and survived the events of that horrible day - are suing the Newtown School District because their child has sustained psychological harm. The claim states that the Board of Education, Department of Education and Education Commissioner had failed to take appropriate steps to protect children from “foreseeable harm.”

What the fuck? No, really - what the fuck? Every person in that school was psychologically damaged by the events of that day. Every. Single. One. But let's identify the REAL opportunity in those horrifying events! It's to get rich off the suffering of the community! 

Ugh. I do not classify these people as "helpers." That's some shameful shit right there.

What the fuck? No really - what the fuck?  more here: http://www.miamiherald.com/2012/12/29/v-fullstory/3160638/dave-barrys-year-in-review.html#storylink=cpy

Free Shit Friday - Triple Berry Jam

I'm trying to get back on schedule here at Hot Chicks Dig Smart Men, but honestly, don't hold your breath. My travel schedule for the first quarter is quickly turning into a one-way trip to the vestibule of Hell.

First, the winner of the Festivus Eve Apple Butter is Shawn, with a Random Number of 4. Enjoy!

Today's Free Shit Friday offering is a pint of Triple Berry Jam.

da Rules.

Statistical Thursday

Open Up the Book

I was looking at my book tally for 2012, and it turns out I read 10 fewer books in 2012 than I did in 2011 for a total of 80. And of those 80, seven were textbooks or technical material. I'm a bit resentful about this, because THERE ARE SO MANY GOOD BOOKS, AND I MUST READ THEM ALL. Rededicating my reading time to technical material is irksome.

However, not being unemployed and homeless is something I enjoy as well, so I suspect I'll just have to suck it up.

Abundance and Charity

I also knitted 100 fewer pieces this year than I did in 2011. That outcome was most directly related to my travel schedule. According to TripIt, I spent 64 days away from home in 2012, most (but not all) of which was business related. I don't take my knitting when I travel - I can't spare the space, and have no time for such things in any event. Unfortunately, I suspect 2013 will be worse in this regard rather than better.

Please Release Me

On the bright side, I've completed five professional certifications this calendar year, with more on the horizon (next scheduled exam: January 31st). I sincerely hope that my future exams don't cause my brain to explode in the same way that the thrice-damned one did. I don't think I can take it.

Try a Little Kindness

I'm still working on my 26 Random Acts of Kindness. It's taking a while in my case because it's important to me that they be truly random, and unless I'm traveling I rarely leave my house. I want this particular exercise to force me to see those around me who, as my buddy Carolyn notes, have some sort of bizarre cloak of invisibility, and to help them when I can.

Auld Lang Syne

Christmas around here was pretty good. My Hot MIL came in from Ohio, my Hot Mom came down from Longmont, and we had a a few other friends, as well. I made four pans of lasagna. For TEN PEOPLE. This is not unusual at our house - when we have people over, I can't think of a single event that would horrify and embarrass me more than not having enough food. So our cups runneth over, each and every time, and everyone got leftovers. Also: Our friend Ken brought a raspberry white chocolate bundt cake from a shop called "Nothing Bundt Cakes," and I'm pretty sure the baker has some sort of Faustian bargain going on. Oh. My.

For New Year's, the Smart Man and I will be having a nice dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, The Augustine Grill in Castle Rock. They have baked brie with Lingonberries, and since I consider brie to be a basic food group all on its own, I may just have several orders of that for my meal. DON'T JUDGE ME. Of course, I'm sure we'll be home by nine, because we're completely out of control like that.

I hope you're all having a nice holiday season!

In the Spirit of Christmas

So my Hot MIL has been visiting us from Ohio for the holidays. It was a fairly short visit, and she was supposed to return home today. Unfortunately, the Dayton area is expecting 10 inches of snow today, and her flight was cancelled. These things happen - you do the best you can with what you get.

We tried to rebook her on Southwest, who indicated that not only could they not get her out before Saturday, they also would not give her a voucher to book an earlier flight on another airline so she could return to work in a timely manner. Merry Christmas!

So the Smart Man went to Expedia to find a flight for tomorrow. He found something on United Airlines for a semi-reasonable price, but when he hit the "book it" button to purchase the ticket, the service popped up with "Oh, we're sorry, the cost of this ticket has been increased by 300%." Merry Christmas!

It's no secret I think the airline industry is an incestuous cesspool of human misery that desperately needs to be re-regulated (even if that means significantly higher fares). But this really was beyond the pale. A three hundred percent markup from one minute to the next? Really?

Fuck you, United Airlines. Fuck you very much.

Midwinter Lights

Photo Credit: Smart Man

Free Shit Festivus Eve*

Today's special Free Shit Friday giveaway is a pint of my too-awesome-for words Apple Butter. This batch is a little thinner than normal, as I have yet to find a way to accurately gauge and adjust for the variable sugar content of Granny Smith apples. It's a still tasty, though.

da Rules.

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*Yes, yes, my alliteration blows big chunks. Give me a break.

The Angels Sang

The UPS Man came yesterday, bearing gifts for yours truly:

I've had my eye on these babies for quite some time, and when I finally had the money to buy them, the online Fluevog store didn't have them in my size. OH THE HORROR. The nice folks at the new Minneapolis store recommended I check third party vendors, and lo and behold, AMAZON TO THE RESCUE.

Rowr. Because I always deserve a better class of shoe.

Deserving a better class of relationship

One of the interesting and painful things about growing into the person you want to be is the realization that you deserve a better class of relationship.

People who continue to grow need people around them who also continue to grow. And the disappointing fact is that many, many people have a tendency to coast through life, maintaining the status quo, not learning anything new about either themselves or the world around them.

I was a late bloomer in this respect, and didn't come to the realization that I deserved a better class of relationship until I was in my thirties. The realization led to a purge of not-so-stable friends, the refusal of dates with the Parade-of-Loser boyfriends, and in my forties, the decision that "a better class of relationship" applies to those I'm related to by blood, too.

Now my Hot Daughter is realizing this hard truth, as well. Because she's smarter and more emotionally stable than her mother, she's doing this work in her 20's rather than her 30's and 40's. I'm very proud of her for making decisions surrounding how she deserves to be treated that are based in self-respect. The outcome of this work will be a better, healthier life, filled with people who help her to grow and make her a better person by their presence.

But I ache for her, as well. Letting go of the people who take you for granted, who make you feel bad about yourself for their own convenience, who do not consider you when they make their decisions is a good thing, leading to a good outcome. But that doesn't mean it's not painful as hell.

Thank you, anonymous strangers

Yesterday my Hot Daughter had an accident on snowy and slick roads. She lost control of her vehicle, slid front end first into a decorative light post, and ended up on the sidewalk. Thankfully, she was not hurt, although the car's in pretty bad shape.

While she was waiting for the police to arrive and making phone calls to the various people who needed to be notified, she said that over ten people stopped with offers of help, some on foot, and some in their own vehicles.

Thank you, anonymous strangers, for looking out for my baby girl.

Random Acts of Kindness

There's a trend out there. A trend that is lifting my spirit and giving me hope.

I'm speaking of the grassroots initiative to memorialize the victims of the Sandy Hook shooting by performing 26 Random Acts of Kindness. By, as Mr. Rogers noted so sincerely, not only looking for the helpers, but by becoming them.

I love this idea so much. The hashtags are #20Acts or #26Acts, and I've created a Tumblr for the purpose of collecting and sharing stories. Feel free to join, and submit your stories if you wish. It's time to elevate the human spirit instead of allowing it to be defined by the ugliness of Friday's events.

Looking for the Helpers

When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, "Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping." To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother's words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers - so many caring people in this world. 

Mr. Rogers

When the unnamed Connecticut shooter was doing his dirty business on Friday, Victoria Leigh Soto became a helper. She hid her first grade class, lied to the gunman about their location, and was then shot to death. Not a single student under her care was harmed.

No matter how awful, how deranged, how evil the unnamed shooter was, Victoria Leigh Soto was infinitely, amazingly, courageously better.

Unintended Consequences

Like most people, I'm appalled by the events of yesterday. I can't even imagine what those families must be going through...or maybe I can, and that's why I'm so appalled.

But I'm not shocked by yesterday's events. Such destruction happens far too often for me to be surprised by the ways in which humans can hurt one another, or by the ways in which people refuse to take any kind of responsibility for the unintended consequences of their political will.

A lot has been written about it, but I think my friend Eric's essay The Guns of December most closely explains my own thoughts on the matter as it relates to gun control:

I want to hear from the other side.  I want to hear someone--preferably a card-carrying member of the National Rifle Association--tell me, preferably to my face, not that they want dead children (because that would be a bit much and we all know that isn't true), but they're okay with them.  That they understand that's the price of their convenient access to easy, deregulated weaponry and they're willing to keep paying it.  Keep in mind: I already know this to be true, I just want to fucking hear them telling me the fucking truth for a change.  I want to hear the words slip softly over their lips that they know what they're paying and they're settled with that, their souls rest easy in the hollow basins in their skulls.  That they sleep at night with this because they can.

When we make decisions on policy, there are consequences to that policy. And only those who are unserious about their franchise pretend like they bear no personal responsibility for those consequences. Because no matter how you slice it, when you choose an action - or in this case, choosing an inaction - you also choose the consequences of that action or inaction. Which in this case, means lots more dead Judges, moviegoers, and children.

Let's take the legalization of marijuana as a personal example. I voted to legalize marijuana in this state. I believed that using marijuana in moderation was no worse than using alcohol in moderation, and as a general rule, I tend to favor more freedom to act rather than less. But that doesn't mean I didn't consider the unintended consequences. It's entirely possible that Colorado will end up with an entire cadre of stoners who, as a result of this law, choose to use marijuana in ways that are not moderate, and in fact could only be considered extreme, i.e., smoking pot several times a day, every day, resulting in long-term cognitive impairment. That's absolutely possible. But the outcome of such extremity lies almost solely with the stoners. No one ever went into a school and beat some poor child to death with a baggie full of buds, so this risk is acceptable to me.

I don't think anyone can make a case that American's lack of gun control carries a similar level of acceptable risk, because the consequences of extreme behavior are so very, very severe.

Yes, yes, people kill people, blah, blah, blah. The fact of the matter is that when you're dealing with events like these, people kill people with guns. And the scope of their destruction is increased exponentially by their access to firearms. There are other issues at play here, of course - the lack of mental health services, for example. But the bottom line is that a major contributing factor in these cases is America's lack of vision in this area. Do I believe the ownership of firearms should be illegal? No, I don't. But I think our culture's fetishization of guns has entirely too high a price in the area of  unintended consequences. And what really shocks me is that there are so many people who sincerely, honestly believe that those consequences are entirely acceptable.

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ETA: If we are to have an honest, fact based discussion about the proper way in which to modify gun control in this country (seriously - I'm not holding my breath), then let us begin with facts, those pesky things. I myself am particularly interested in numbers 1 and 9.

Words for Wednesday

Nowhere to Run to

So I'm still running, about three days a week. I'm up to 95 minutes without stopping, which for me translates to between seven and eight miles. And just yesterday, I added sprints to my routine, because apparently I need counseling in this area.

The fact of the matter is that I'm still struggling with the loss of our beloved Boogie as well as my par-for-the-course holiday depression. I'm hoping that doubling down on my cardio at the expense of my weight training will hold the bad feelings at bay so that I might continue to function in ways that aren't really optional at this point in my life.

I still feel like shit, but I'm functional, so I'm going to call this a "win." Except for the part where my quads and calves are in a constant state of achy stiffness, and I'm apparently losing several of my toenails. Whee.

The Ballad of Mad Dogs and Englishman

Speaking of Boogie, we're still attempting to revise our daily activities (and our lives) to a state where we're not always looking for him, making plans for his care, etc. We retrieved his ashes after the cremation, and while we initially thought we'd want to scatter them in the area where he took his daily walkies, when the time came we couldn't bring ourselves to do so. Now they're on the mantle, waiting for their final disposition, which is still undecided.

His blankets and bed went to the Animal Emergency and Specialty Center, who cared for him in his final days, and his crate went to City Bark, the awesome kennel which he considered Doggie Purgatory, but wasn't. Turns out City Bark also does large dog rescue, and they'll use his crate for dogs that need that help. We donated his food and snacks to the local Food Bank, who are always looking for pet food for their clients.

All of these donations made us happy, as we feel we were supporting other families and pets who needed help. A small comfort, but comfort nevertheless.

The Ice of Boston

I'm heading out to Boston this morning on my latest business jaunt. I'm still neck-deep in Next Generation 911 technology and integration issues, which is actually a good thing. Working on technology that allows people "always-on" access to emergency services is satisfying work, as opposed to, I don't know, working on technology that allows people to bitch and cry about how they're having trouble surfing the pr0n. Because really, I'm pretty sure my giving any kind of shit about someone's inability to surf the pr0n would violate some physical law.

I'll be back late Friday, so (once again), you guys are on your own for a few days. Please don't burn the place down.

A Week of Gratitude, Day Seven - Remembering Boogie

On Thanksgiving Day, Boogie the Giant Schnauzer progressively lost most of his mobility in his back legs. By the next morning, he couldn't get up, stand, or walk on his own, so we took him to the Animal Emergency and Specialty Center here in Parker, where he was diagnosed with Fibrocartilagenous Embolism (FCE), which is basically a stroke-like event in the spinal cord. He was admitted for supportive care and observation, but his immobility got worse over the critical first 48 hours rather than better. So two weeks ago today, in consultation with the admitting veterinarian, the Smart Man and I decided to put him to sleep.

He lived with us here in the Big Yellow House since shortly after we moved in. I have spent the last eleven years primarily working from home, and he has been my constant companion. The house seems empty without him, and everywhere there are reminders of the gap in our lives that he filled with such joy. My grief is exhausting, exacerbated by my normal holiday depression.

And yet, I am so very grateful to have known this dog, to have had him in my life for the time that he was with us. So today I remember my Boogie, my companion and friend, the sweetest dog in the world.

This was taken the day we brought him home from the airport. He was four months old, and he was terrified. He got over that fairly quickly, and expressed his displeasure at being gated into the utility room by digging a hole in the wall. We crate trained him shortly thereafter.

While his beard was growing in, the Smart Man's best friend insisted that he looked like a Muppet and usually sang the Muppet theme song whenever he saw him. Boogie loved him anyway, and for many years the Smart Friend was his surrogate family when we were out of town. And once his beard actually did grow in, he made a habit of wiping it dry on the leg of his favorite people after each and every drink. Because he was a sharer like that. 

He eventually grew into a rambunctious, beautiful young adult whose shenanigans kept us laughing and on our toes. He almost managed to knock himself out by running into walls (there's still a dent in the corner support in the kitchen). He insisted on barking at his reflection in the mirror. He went through a phase of stealing the meat and cheese from sandwiches (but not the veggies or bread) if you left them unattended. He managed to snag a meatball off a counter as they were draining. His sophisticated appearance was deceiving, as this was goofiest dog on the planet, and in no way effective at hiding his misbehavior.

He was also a very helpful dog, as you can see from this photograph of him assisting me with my knitting.

And helping me water my Marigolds.

Even as he got older, he still remained a very handsome boy, and he managed to win over most everyone he came into contact with. The depth of my love for this animal has always been a little surprising. It's a simple, uncomplicated thing, just like him, and my grief is the same.

 

His most favorite thing to do in the entire world, the thing that measured his quality of life and made us realize that his time with us had come to an end, was his daily walkies. As he got older, I would usually make him wait until the sun came up for us to go, so he started coming downstairs at dawn and head-butting the furniture while I was on the elliptical in an effort to let me know it was TIME. I have walked thousands of miles with this dog, in good weather and bad, and each and every time we went, his attitude was, "Walkies? I've never been on walkies before! This is exciting!" He was always "ready," no matter what was on the agenda. He would not have been a happy dog if his walkies had been denied him, and Boogie was, above all else, a joyful and happy pooch. After his spinal injury, he made it clear to us that he was no longer "ready," and we knew it was time.

I miss my Boogie-Dog, more than I can say. As my old friend Kathy, a devoted animal lover, notes, "The toll we pay for this kind of love is heavy." Indeed it is. But I'm grateful to have loved this dog, and for the time he was a member of our family. We're better people for his presence in our lives, and he was an anodyne for the cynicism that creeps in during stressful times.

The best dog in the world, and worthy, utterly worthy, of both my love and my grief. My good, good boy.

A Week of Gratitude, Day Six - The Chance to do my Duty

My Hot Mom is getting older. I'm not telling tales out of school - I'm firmly in my middle age, so it only follows. As a result, she needs some additional help compared to the years when she was younger and bit more spry.

I realize that some adult children resent having to help their aging parents, or simply refuse to do so.* Apparently it interferes with their very important lives, or something. And I also realize that some aging parents don't like to ask their adult children for the help they need. But I've been giving this a lot of thought lately, and I've decided that I'm grateful for this opportunity.

Mom needing a bit more help to manage her activities, even on a temporary basis, gives us a chance to spend time together. It gives her a chance to know my husband as I know him, and recognize his generosity and devotion. It provides me with an opportunity to get to know her in new ways, and for her to know me as the competent, caring adult I've become. It allows her to learn how to ask for help, and to accept help gracefully. It allows me to learn to give help without conditions, and to do so gracefully. It opens the door to honest conversations about critical end of life decisions, and allows us to communicate in new ways. And it allows me the opportunity to do my duty, which I've come to understand matters to me in deep, meaningful ways. 

Today I'm grateful to have the chance to help my Mom live a meaningful, independent life in her senior years, for both our sakes.

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*Talk about some seriously shitty karma. Good luck with all that. 

A Week of Gratitude, Day Five - The Freedom to Act

When I first moved back to Colorado after leaving active duty in 1996, I chose to take a job at Lucent Technologies as a technician. In hindsight, it was the best professional decision I've ever made, but my first 18 months on Lucent's payroll were tight. I started out making $9.15 an hour, and had the usual bills to pay, plus child support as the Smart Twins were living with their father at that point. On less than $20K a year.

So I know what it feels like to have no disposable income, to go into debt to manage the necessities, to hope like hell your POS Ford Escort doesn't break down because you have no resources to effect repairs. While Lucent provided excellent benefits in terms of health insurance and such, I was always, always one paycheck away from being homeless. Which made me no different than millions of other Americans.

Thankfully I didn't lose my job during that time, and eventually I ended up working in the field I'm in now, making far more money than I ever thought I would.

I like making a lot of money,* but not the for the usual reasons. Yes, it's fabulous to never have to worry about being able to make the mortgage, to not have to consider the "budget" when deciding on which cut of meat to purchase, to save significant portions of my salary for retirement, to realize that we have enough money in the bank to tide us over for a while if I lose my fabulous job in the Military Industrial Complex (HELLO, SEQUESTRATION). All of these things are critical to living a low stress life, and I'm grateful, each and every day, that I don't have to live my life on the knife edge of poverty.

But the thing I love, the thing that gives me pleasure about my financial situation is the freedom it gives me to act.  When my friends have a run of bad luck, I'm in a position to treat them to lunch, or an evening out. When my Hot Daughter has an accident, I can pay the deductible on the repairs and she can pay me back. When my Hot Mom needs something to make her life a little easier, I can pay for it without having to reevaluate my budget. And when I see something that I know, I just know, would be a perfect gift for someone I care for, I can just buy it.

Today I'm grateful that my financial situation allows me to not only support me and my family comfortably, but lets me help my friends and family, as well. 


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*I consider "a lot" to be a subjective term. I certainly make a lot compared to what I was living on in 1996. I also make a lot relative to our family budget because we're extremely conservative in terms of living below our means. But compared to people who have real money I might as well work part-time at Wal-Mart.

A Week of Gratitude, Day Four - Finally Getting it Right

This April, the Smart Man and I will be celebrating our 15th anniversary.

That doesn't seem possible to me. Prior to our getting together, the longest romantic relationship I'd had lasted only seven years, and none of them was particularly healthy or supportive.

But my relationship with the Smart Man is different.

Jokes about my being his Sugar Mama aside, our relationship is one of equals. We both contribute to the success of our household, albeit in different ways. We support each others' families, in whatever way we deem appropriate. We're always on each other's side, although that doesn't translate into being let off the hook when one of us is wrong or behaving badly. We bring balance to each others' worldviews, providing perspective where we might have personal blind spots. We hold each other accountable where it's necessary, and let things go when it's not.

Today I'm grateful that after several failed attempts, I have finally gotten this right.

A Week of Gratitude, Day Three - The Nerd Grrl

My Hot Daughter is a complete Nerd Girl. Tumblr, Fandom, Cosplay, Cons - you name it and she's into it. She's always been a much bigger nerd than I, in spite of my status as a female engineer in a male-dominated field. As she notes, she's happy that there are women like me, fighting the good fight, working for a sea change in these fields, but such a life holds no interest for her on a professional level.

Instead, she makes an effort to effect changes in the communities where she's a member - Fandom, LGBT, her University. Social justice and her franchise matter to my daughter.

I came of age in one of the most misogynistic cultures in the country. And yet I was simply awash in my unearned privilege, failing to see the truth of others' reality even when I tripped over it. Part of this was the company I kept (privilege-induced blindness is contagious, I've found), but the simple fact of the matter was that I lived an unexamined life in this respect until personal crises forced me to integrate my personality and become the person I aspired to be.

Not so my daughter.

I believe part of her empathy comes from being a member of a persecuted minority, and part comes from her intellect. But she looks at the world in a fundamentally different way than I did when I was her age. She sees other people's worlds in ways that allow her to recognize how her own privilege has made her life easier, and how her status as a minority has made her life harder. She tries hard not to take her privilege for granted, and comports herself in a way that takes other people's concerns into account.

Today I am grateful that my daughter is a fundamentally decent human being, concerned for others, and that she sees the world as a place that can be improved for everyone, regardless of their life's circumstances.

A Week of Gratitude, Day Two - Making Friends with my Body

I need to lose about 20 pounds.

This is not news - I have spent the last decade needing to lose 20 (or more) pounds, and vacillating between various weight loss strategies in an effort to mold my body into something I could live with comfortably. But a funny thing happened in the last year - I made friends with my body.


I ran my first 5K this year, benefiting the Wounded Warrior Project.


I can do 100 lunges and still get out of bed the next morning.

I can run 6 miles without stopping.

I can lift weights several times each week, increasing the weight slowly and steadily as my muscles increase in strength.

I exercise nearly every day, making time for this activity in a somewhat insane schedule, and it benefits no one but me.

My body is strong. My body is fit. My body works. And because of these facts, I find that I actually LIKE my body, extra 20 pounds and all.

That doesn't mean I should give up the struggle to drop the last of my excess weight and maintain better eating habits. Because, really - I love to eat crappy, high-calorie foods, often with little nutritional value. I still have work to do in terms of my love-hate relationship with food.

But it does mean that I no longer consider my body to be a burden rather than a blessing. It has carried the essential me over the last 47 years, born two children, provided pleasure (and some pain), and done a pretty stellar job of holding off disease in spite of my lackadaisical efforts in helping it do so.

Today I'm grateful for my strong, fit body, and the work I do to maintain it.

A Week of Gratitude, Day One - The Mechanicky Gal

When I was in the Navy, one of my assignments was the USS JASON, a heavy repair ship out of San Diego, California. While assigned to this ship, one of the women I served with was The Mechanicky Gal*, a Hull Technician Chief Petty Officer.

We have some things in common. We both read voraciously. We both believe human beings have an obligation to help one another in meaningful ways. We both believe that relationships are things that require work and effort, and that the ones you choose are the ones that matter most to you. We both think Sarah Palin is spiteful, petty, and dumber than a box of hammers. We've both been married multiple times, either to putzes or to men who were completely and utterly inappropriate.

But we're also very different. I have no skills - NONE - in home improvement and repair. MG is the type of gal who would borrow a foundry and a machine shop so that she might make her own fixtures. I can't think of a single reason to do a project or perform a chore when I can pay someone else to do it. MG is disgustingly self-sufficient. I have the Smart Twins, MG got her tubes tied in her twenties. I spend an inordinate amount of time on intellectual pursuits that border on mental masturbation, while MG has a far more pragmatic and practical intellectual life.

And regardless of what we have in common or we don't, she's my sister.

I have no relationship with my birth sibling, and MG's relationship with her birth sibling is superficial. So we adopted each other as our "Sister from Another Mister," and have determined that we will act accordingly. She may need to get her hip replaced due to the wear and tear that comes from doing all those home improvement projects. When that happens, I will be flying to San Diego to provide familial and culinary support. If our respective partners (The Mechanicky Guy and The Smart Man) get hit by buses, we have a retirement "Plan B" that includes living together and causing no end of trouble in the local retirement community and/or on senior vacation trips. When support is required, through good times and bad, we'll be there for one another, just as we have for the last twenty years.

Today I'm grateful that I have such a friend in my life, a friend who is my sister in spirit and who has provided me the love, support and friendship that helps make me whole. I love you, my sister.

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*Not her real name.