A Retractor

Or two. If you heard the retractor story here, this is what I was talking about. The one on the left would have been used on the upper arm or thigh, and the one on the right used on the lower arm or lower leg.

Or, as I said to one gentle guest who asked me what they were (when my group had the folly of leaving me alone in camp):

“I’ve forgotten what they’re called, but they’re for amputations.”

“Amputations??” (The guest, looking puzzled, doesn’t see a cutting blade, and is wondering what I’m talking about.)

“Yes. It’s for the meat.”

“Meat??”

“Yes. You slide this over the bone (pointing to the hole), and grab the ends like this, and pull back to get the meat out of the way so they can saw off the damaged part.”

Yeah. They try not to leave me alone in camp anymore.

In which I try to explain why Sweet Daughter is missing some skin

It’s the first week of kindergarten, and I’m already over-sharing with Sweet Daughter’s teacher. If she doesn’t have a sense of humor, it’s going to be a really long year for all of us. Today’s inaugural e-mail consisted of:

Dear Mrs. B.,

I wanted to let you know that Sweet Daughter slid down a tree trunk last night (she was leaning against it, her feet went out from under her, she slid down and her shorts slid up), and her bum (as she calls it) is a little scraped and sore. Why am I telling you about my daughter’s backside, you ask? I thought you may need to know why she may be a bit uncomfortable today.

Also, she has flag stickers in her blue folder to share with the class today if you think it’s appropriate.

Thank you,

Nancy R.

P.S. You are collecting the notes you’ve received from parents over the years for a book to fund your retirement, aren’t you?

For the two of you …

... who don’t already read Breda (or Alan, or Say Uncle), I’ve been invited to be on BB&Guns tonight along with TBolt. I’m surprised, honored, and alternately squeeing and fighting off a bad case of mic fright. Here’s hoping something interesting falls out of my mouth at the appointed hour.

First day of school

Sweet Daughter started kindergarten today. No tears, but plenty of high-fives instead. (Including ones exchanged between Shorter Half and myself.) She said she had an "awesome" day, and can't wait to go back. I have no idea how long that will last, but I'll enjoy it while it does. I hope it's for another 17 years ...

Bald Eagle

Some very dear friends took us out on their catamaran for Sweet Daughter's birthday. While we were rolling along, we saw this:

(Sorry for the lack of quality, but I was sailing at the time, and was just happy I remembered to flip the switch on the camera to the little film icon ...)

Yeah. It's not every day you just happen to have your camera in hand when a bald eagle flies by for a little fast food.

Dear Sweet Daughter,

Happy fifth birthday to the sweetest girl I know! Every night I thank God for you, and ask “Please help me to not screw this up”. Thank you for teaching me that you learn best by example, and that means I have to model the person I’d like you to become. I have learned to stand up for myself, and for what I believe in. I’ve learned to ask myself what it really is that I do believe in. I have learned to push past my comfort level in many areas. Besides all the joy you bring into my life, I’m becoming a better person because of you. Thank you, Sweet Girl.

Love, Momma

Thanks

It was about two years ago when I started lurking around the gun blogs, starting with The Lawdog Files. It was the Pink Gorilla Suit that got me hooked. I stuck around because of the interesting writing, and I learned a few things about self defense along the way. I started reading the other bloggers listed on his side bar. I enjoyed their writing, too, and learned more things from them. I found my opinions challenged, and questions I didn’t even know I had answered.

At the time, I didn’t carry a gun, and really had no plans to start. Why, I thought, would I need a gun? Wasn’t that being a little … paranoid? Then one day, somewhere, there was a discussion about how, if you were going to carry, you should ask yourself what exactly it was that you were willing to defend by possibly killing someone. Was it your car? Your home? Yourself? Your kids?

Aha! The bell in my head went off. Of course I was willing to kill to defend my child!! My car they could have (unless Sweet Daughter was in it, and then all bets were off.). Then I got to thinking … why was I willing to defend my daughter, but not myself, unless I though of it as the Bad Guy hurting my daughter’s mother? I had no good, logical answer, because there wasn’t one. I suddenly realized I was worth defending, too.

So, I took a class, got my concealed handgun permit, and bought a pistol. I need to get better about wearing it more often, and practicing more. I get overwhelmed thinking about how I’ll never be as good, or as knowledgeable as most of you, but I realize that doesn’t matter so much as the fact that I now have the determination and the tool to keep my daughter (and myself!) safe. Thanks to all of you who helped me along this path, and helped make me a better parent.