Veteran's day thoughts

At 18 I walked often into the wild blue yonder to be a soldier. Part of me thought that I wanted to do something grand and part of me just did what the rest of my family had done when they graduated high school (or not graduate high school). Some families have a history of working the land, some of earning degrees. In my family it was to go into the service. Having served in the Air Force I find that the emotional response to Veterans Day, for me, is a little off kilter. 

There is an important part that I think gets left out in all the pride. A lot of kids go into the service because it is there only option. I do not say thank you to them for going in. Instead I say thank you for not running away when it gets scary. I am grateful to all the soldiers that stand with there comrades and do not turn and run to leave a man alone. I believe that democracy its self is a grand freedom. A true patriot believes in the opportunity to disagree. America is founded on that: from the first immigrants that sought religious freedom in the new land, to the gays now who wish to be married.

I went in the service to gain opportunity. I do not belive it is noble to rage into the night with out knowlege of the impact and heart ache of war.  Veterans do not find that war is a thing to be celebrated, brotherhood is. If a man believes that brotherhood is more important and can be developed instead of war, then I salute him/her and hand over all my badges to the man that stands next to another in kindness and brotherhood.
Happy Veterans Day to the soldiers that worked together for brotherhood and believe in a peaceful nation.

New England Morning

Daylight savings times happened yesterday. This morning as I enjoyed my extra hour of sleep I could hear wind tossing the trees around outside. I curled under the blanket and ignored the cat pouncing around behind me. Then the hubby came in and said, "It's snowing." It does not snow in Arizona I thought, then I remembered I don't live there anymore.
To my good luck, yesterday. Yes, yesterday I bought a warm coat, lucky timing I say. So with my warm new coat and a cup of Earl Grey tea in my hand I watched the hubby clean the snow off the windows. "Get in." he says and were off. At last, our gas sucking Subaru is worth its safety rating, gliding along the road slush, effortlessly.
I went to the VA to get my Flu shot which was quick. The nurse at the counter told me she liked my coat. I told her I had just gotten it and that moving from Arizona I did not have a good warm coat. Then I told her, "See, I am ready for New England, you wouldn't even know I moved here." She looked at me then she said, "Oh they'll still know."  I gave her a smile. I know what she means.

The door to the VA is a large rotating door. With three large sections. One man and I were on one side, heading inside the building in another section was old man with a cane. In the last section people were piling in while the old man took tiny steps the rotating door moving a very little bit with each slow step he at last went out trapping all the people heading in, there were about ten people. The man that was in with me slipped through the small space left and went back into the VA to hit a button for when the door stops for safety. Not one of the people on the other side saw this. Then they saw me waiting for the man to return. Ten loud New England voices then yelled, "Hey there is a lady just standing over there. WALK, WALK." Feeling frustrated by all the yelling I walked over to the door, (it did not budge) then did a pirouette and danced around a little then yelled back at them, "It's not moving".  At last it moved just enough for me to get out. I stomped away. Then giggled at the silliness of it all as I hurried to my car to get out of the freezing wind.

Day of dead poem.

Day of the Dead.

by Misha Dawn 

They came like trees in fall, strong and colorful.
Change visual in the light shades of their hair and the lines around their eyes.
They came and sat quietly as birds sang loud songs of protest from the tree tops.
The uninvolved lines circled the the green, the church,
and alone,
circled the quiet rooms
filled with the smell of impermanence.

There was some among them that were small.
Today, all returned, and marched to drums, and bells, and dancers.
Everyday they can be heard in wind in treetops
and quiet exhales of love.

PMS Sans Uterus.

Today I have ragging PMS. Of which I find to be a wonder, now that I do not have a uterus. You would think not having PMS would be one of the benefits. But no, my little tubes are still there, making eggs, and hormones. Some evidence of the PMS is that I am just irritable. For example the poor kitten got herself locked in the bathroom for jumping in the trash can. I could hear her yelling, "let me out" while I imagined replacing her with a not so bothersome fish.
Additionally, I tried to make a deep dish apple pie and having not read the instructions carefully, I have the crust on the bottom instead of on the top (reading to quick may be a normal defect).  I quickly made a crumble for the top of the pie and will hope for decent results.
I had a native friend tell me that in her tribe the women in there menses were not allowed to cook. For me I think it should probably be during PMS being that is when I am intense like: those first cold days of fall or, like a kitten who smells chicken bones in the trash. As for now I will wait for my pie to come out of the oven and take deep breaths.
p.s. I wonder where the eggs go now. Are they lost and arguing about who should have looked at the directions.