Rambling

I probably shouldn’t be posting anything today. I’ve been without sleep for 27+ hours now.

Will is on his way to Oklahoma for a month. Then on to Georgia until they deploy. I stayed up until 3:00 this morning baking cookies. By the time I could finally relax enough to sleep some of my college kid neighbors were whooping it up. I last looked at the clock at 5:00 and gave up since I needed to get up at 5:15 anyway.

I tried to give him and his girlfriend as much time together as I could, but now I am wishing I had been more selfish. One more whispered “I love you,” one more hug, many more tears. I will be allowed to attend the deployment at Georgia if I can make it. I will one way or the other.

They had a deployment ceremony at the American Legion building Saturday. Apparently several older ladies felt they should come to support a friend who had a nephew who was deploying. Along with the older ladies came their entourages. Free food seemed to be a big thing.

I couldn’t even get inside even though Katie, Will’s girlfriend, had saved me a place at the table. Instead, I got to listen to two teen-aged girls in perfect makeup whining about how hot it was. They were part of one of the entourages. Not family, just there to see and be seen, and whine.

“It’s hot in here. Do we have to stay?”

No, please go home now and quit whining in my ear. If you aren’t here to support the troops at least make room for those of us who are.

“I’m so hot. I’m going outside. It’s hot out there, too, but at least I can get a tan. Grandma, did you see how tan I’m getting?”

Then we launch into an animated discussion about Grandma’s beautiful skin and how that shade of pink lipstick looks fabulous on her.

“I love your shoes. Where’d you find them?”

Grandma, grinning from ear to ear almost brighter than her rhinestoned glasses. “I found these at Walmart. You wouldn’t think you could find nice shoes there, but they have–“

“Ladies,” I tried not to growl, but I don’t think I succeeded, “please, some of us are trying to listen to the ceremony.”

“Hmph.” Grandma draws herself up to her full 5′ 3″ stature and I rise to an equal level. “Well, we can’t hear anything either.”

“Of course you can’t. You’re too busy yapping about fabulous lipstick and Walmart shoes! Some of us here really don’t care about your fashion statements.”

“Well, I never.”

Of course not, but try. Just shut up the yammering.

“News reporter Rip Goodnews with Channel 9 live from the deployment ceremony at the American Legion. An altercation broke out when an old redheaded white woman assaulted a blue-haired lady in the foyer. It was truly a red, white and blue occasion. More details at 10.”

No, I didn’t actually assault her or her yipping, but fashionable, whelps. I thought about it. A lot.

Rather than wait in line to eat later, especially since they had about 1/3 the tables they needed, we went to Cracker Barrel. Brandon, my oldest son, had just pulled 115 hours straight on the clock. That means catching naps at the rigs when you can and nothing like a night’s rest. He ordered something for dessert and while he was waiting fell asleep with his head on his hand. Will kept pointing at his arm and motioning me to hit him and knock it out from under his head. How he kept his arm up and stayed asleep, I don’t know, but I could just see his head hitting the table if he got bumped. Will could too, apparently. He finally said, “If you love me you’ll hit his arm. Come on, Mom. Show me you love me.”

“I am not hitting your brother’s arm.”

“You don’t love me, do you?”

Brandon woke up about then and could tell Will was up to something by the feigned innocent look. It’s always a dead giveaway he’s into mischief. Brandon narrowed his eyes and glared at him. “Not sure what you’re up to, but I’m going to beat you like a circus monkey anyway.”

“Oh, no, please don’t. It was the ice cream. I ate it too fast and got brain freeze.” This explanation is accompanied by a very odd face and much batting of the eyes. Once again, Will escapes by distracting his brother with humor.

I’m going to miss my circus monkey.