Lizzy Sings the Blues

I'm not Lizzy. Lizzy is my dog, and she is fantastic. She is also fantastic at singing the blues, which she prefers over top-40 numbers and traditional American folk songs despite her privileged-white-middle-class upbringing.

I'm learning how to be an Army wife. The acronyms are easy and some of the other stuff is hard. I'm Hulk-smashing my way through school to become something that fulfills my passions.

I like books and cooking and learning new languages. I'm learning to love running again after a long hiatus. My husband likes books and running and snarky jokes and making impressive gadgets in our garage. We like adventures. If there is ever a zombie war, we will survive the longest.


Ask me anything   Submit


Reblogged from wavesofnausea
“I know, Gromit!” boggle-: Attn: Mimes

“I know, Gromit!”

boggle-:

Attn: Mimes

(Source: wavesofnausea, via inmymimeseye)





I swear.

Flats ALWAYS tear my feet up way worse than 4-inch heels.  I spent my entire lunch break today in the bathroom trying to get bloodstains off the outside of my shoes.  Because it had soaked through.  So, so unpleasant.

Whatever, I don’t care about my mangled feet because I had a fantastic day, and my life is going about 70% according to plan right now, which is way more than usual.  And because John climbed up into the turret of a humvee last night in the middle of coyote-infested nowhere just to get enough of a signal to call me.



Reblogged from kookoohead
idontgetrunnershigh: kookoohead: Pathetic. oooo “Certain Circumstances” things just got interesting Illinois…. That is why they founded Shelbyville. I wonder if “certain circumstances” means “have already procreated.”

idontgetrunnershigh:

kookoohead:

Pathetic.

oooo “Certain Circumstances” things just got interesting Illinois…. That is why they founded Shelbyville.

I wonder if “certain circumstances” means “have already procreated.”



Tuesday Alliteration

Magnifying mirrors are mean.



Reblogged from bookling-stormborn
Touch it...Touch it I say!: "I'm offended by all the little girls who didn't have a choice."

squeetothegee:

bookling-stormborn:

  • Okay, first of all, this is a “choice” to get the HPV vaccine
  • Second of all, I don’t think 12-year-old girls have a choice about ever getting any vaccine
  • They keep talking about all these poor little girls and it just smacks of protecting the poor…

Scarygodmother, you are perfect.


Reblogged from showztime
avodka-kedavra: showztime: This is an image of Father Mychal Judge, a beloved chaplain with the FDNY. He was a first responder at the scene of the 9/11 attacks, where he prayed with and comforted the men in his unit. He was also gay. As a priest, he was obviously celibate, but he was gay in orientation and advocated for love and acceptance for the LGBTQ community in the Catholic church. He died at Ground Zero, and was the first recorded fatality of that horrible day.  Something about this image really moves me and makes me weepy. It looks so historic, but has the modern towers in the background. Kind of reminds me that there are saints/heroes/loving, amazing people still here in our time. If prayers are your thing, here is one from Father Mychal- Lord, take me where You want me to go, let me meet who You want me to meet, tell me what You want me to say, and keep me out of Your way. Amen. What heavy boots. What a great man.  Told myself I wouldn’t post about 9/11, just because I’m trying to remember this weekend for happier reasons. This was too beautiful to not reblog, though. I watched the documentary about this incredible man, “Saint of 9/11,” and felt so uplifted by his story, his message, and how he chose to live his life and express his faith in the service of others.  It’s not a documentary about 9/11 that just happens to use a gay priest as its poster child; it’s a story about Father Mychal and his truly beautiful life, which happened to end that day because he was doing what he felt called to do—to give of himself.  I absolutely recommend the film (as wildly unimportant as my opinion may be) to anyone, regardless of sexual orientation, religious affiliation or lack thereof.  I long to live in a world whose religious leaders are more like Father Mychal, and whose believers possess even a shred of his humanity.  Ugghh, just tears everywhere with this one.

avodka-kedavra:

showztime:

This is an image of Father Mychal Judge, a beloved chaplain with the FDNY. He was a first responder at the scene of the 9/11 attacks, where he prayed with and comforted the men in his unit. He was also gay. As a priest, he was obviously celibate, but he was gay in orientation and advocated for love and acceptance for the LGBTQ community in the Catholic church. He died at Ground Zero, and was the first recorded fatality of that horrible day. 

Something about this image really moves me and makes me weepy. It looks so historic, but has the modern towers in the background. Kind of reminds me that there are saints/heroes/loving, amazing people still here in our time.

If prayers are your thing, here is one from Father Mychal-

Lord, take me where You want me to go,

let me meet who You want me to meet,

tell me what You want me to say,

and keep me out of Your way.

Amen. What heavy boots. What a great man. 

Told myself I wouldn’t post about 9/11, just because I’m trying to remember this weekend for happier reasons. This was too beautiful to not reblog, though.

I watched the documentary about this incredible man, “Saint of 9/11,” and felt so uplifted by his story, his message, and how he chose to live his life and express his faith in the service of others.  It’s not a documentary about 9/11 that just happens to use a gay priest as its poster child; it’s a story about Father Mychal and his truly beautiful life, which happened to end that day because he was doing what he felt called to do—to give of himself.  I absolutely recommend the film (as wildly unimportant as my opinion may be) to anyone, regardless of sexual orientation, religious affiliation or lack thereof.  I long to live in a world whose religious leaders are more like Father Mychal, and whose believers possess even a shred of his humanity.  Ugghh, just tears everywhere with this one.



I deleted this caption about sixteen times, because I could not stop using excessively cutesie ickle diminutive adjectives for our Boone.  But… look at him.  My precious baby pudgeball is five months old now and weighs almost sixty pounds already! (Flings self on floor, wails in despair)

I deleted this caption about sixteen times, because I could not stop using excessively cutesie ickle diminutive adjectives for our Boone.  But… look at him.  My precious baby pudgeball is five months old now and weighs almost sixty pounds already!

(Flings self on floor, wails in despair)


Reblogged from indefinably-deactivated20111024
“ How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard. A.A. Milne (Winnie the Pooh)

(via imnotthatkindofgirl)


Music for my absent husband

The best decision I have made so far in this round of No-John-a-Palooza was to create a Dolly Parton/Jolene Pandora station.  Since finishing Sushi Quest, I have been puppy wrangling and crooning away as loudly as I want to June and Johnny, Elvis, Reba, Charlie Daniels, the Ronettes, the Righteous Brothers, the Temptations, Patsy Cline, whom my autocorrect tried to turn into “pasty clone,” and Dolly’s version of Stairway to Heaven.  So much good sangin’ music.

On a slightly related note, isn’t “Stand By Your Man” just the worst?