There has been so much to remark about this week, frankly, I’ve been overwhelmed by it all. I mean Obama shirtless on the magazine cover? I thought the food coloring in the fountain on St. Paddy’s Day was in bad enough taste.
Who is surprised that Cheney okayed the torture policy? Not me. He is from Wyoming, after all. Not to trash talk those good folks who live there and don’t want to lay claim to him. Just saying, they do things differently in the part of the country where taking a hot iron poker to someone’s backside is a way of life, not torture.
Then there’s this tidbit out of North Carolina. While I applaud the idea of wanting to pay tribute to military spouses, they certainly deserve any morsel of kudos they get, I have to ask myself, would I consider this a tribute? The opportunity to spend all day in a workshop? Or to spend a day playing GI Jane?
For me a tribute would be a trip to the beach. A day at the spa. I want someone to come do my yard work, not teach me how to do it better. I don’t want to learn to grow flowers. I want you to send me fresh ones.
I most assuredly don’t want to take a self-defense class. Listen, if I’m a military spouse I’ve had self-defense up the ying-yang. Unless the course offers the chance to wrestle Brad Pitt in the mud I’m not interested. I’m just saying …