Brenda Corey Dunne's Blog, page 10

Military Monday: Posting Phase Two

Phase Two: Closet Clean-out

Orders Received yet?  No.Estimated TTD: Narrowing it down, but no orders, no point.

Our junk is alive. 
There's no other possible explanation. It has to be alive, because how else could it multiply at such an alarming rate? We recycle, we give clothes away, we only replace things when necessary, we take things OUT of the house by the trailer load. So how is it that EVERY SINGLE CLOSET in this house is FULL of crap? 
I just don't get it. It must be reproducing.
Even though we don't have a message, we are pretty sure one is coming. After all, we've been in this house three years. So I, being a planner to the nth degree, have begun the process. 

THE PRE-LISTING CLEAN-OUT.

God help me. Having sold a gazillion houses in the past, I know that the minute we call a real-estate agent, they will be out here. Wanting forms filled out. Wanting measurements taken and...
Wanting magazine-perfect pictures.
Ugh. 
So that means everything needs to be ready before we even call them. Closets need to be cleaned out. Let me tell you. A teen's closet is a scary place. You won't find Narnia in that baby. There's dead things in there. Skeletons and cobwebs and mould. Science projects gone rogue. There's a reason kids don't like to sleep with their closet doors open, and I am about to go into battle with the things that go bump in the night.
The last time I cleaned out closets I barely escaped with my life.
It's an emotional, frustrating, hypertensive time, because I get to find out just how many items of 'clean' clothing got tossed into a back corner. How many treasured items got thrown underneath mounds of forgotten toys. How many half-eaten food items somehow found their way into neatly folded sweaters. And how that 'I NEED TO HAVE IT!' item has spent the past three years still in it's sealed box.
I have to take it one closet at a time, with lots of chocolate and wine.
And so, because today is my day off, I've got my haz-mat suit on, my bleach in hand, and I'm ready.
If you don't hear from me in two days, send help.
Brenda.

Military Monday: Posting Phase One

Phase One: Real Estate Research
Orders received yet: No.Estimated TTD (time 'til departure): Unknown. Maybe six months?


Confession time.
I am addicted to real estate websites. Maybe not as bad as I'm addicted to Sherlock but--it's bad. 
I have an app, and I'm not afraid to use it. 
It starts innocently enough...sometimes just days after moving into our current house. Checking to make sure the price we paid for our brand-spanking new bungalow/two-story/high-ranch/colonial/salt-box is reasonable. Usually brought on by a For Sale sign in our neighbourhood. Oh look! That house is for sale! Wonder what it's worth? Why don't I just check? Oh! Look how they decorated that room! I like that kitchen...! 
Innocent mind candy, something to fill a spare moment. Checking on my iPhone while waiting for a child after school, peeking in at lunch time to see what's new...that sort of thing.
But then hubs has a meeting with someone and a whisper comes home. Just a possibility--nothing definite. They need a (insert job here) in (insert base A here) or maybe (insert second possibility B here). In our world these whispers are just that--whispers. Gossip. Like little teases, thrown out to tweak your curiosity. 
Thus begins a manic website-checking phase. It only lasts a day or two, maybe a week. Checking neighbourhoods, ideal locations, proximity of schools, and most of all real estate-prices. This is, of course, accompanied by another, more serious evaluation of current home resale values, because we all know that what we sell determines what we can buy elsewhere. 
Things settle down. After all, it was just a rumour. No need to get too excited. 
I go back to the occasional check in, watching for For Sale signs and trying not to drive my husband crazy with the constant question... Any news?
And then another meeting happens. Or a phone call, or something that ratchets the possibility factor up from 50% to 98%. Suddently it's not Base A or Base B. It's only B. This is the conversation. The one that says 'There's always a chance you won't get posted to this base, but we've slotted you in.' 
Such sweet torture to the compulsive real-estate checker. 
Friends in the new area are called. Schools boundaries are researched, downloaded, printed out. Extra-curricular activities are mapped. And always the checking, checking, checking. Can we afford it? What if that one sells before we get our posting message?
Inevitably they do sell, and it's back to the websites. Look at that! A new house listed! Squirrel! 
And so begins the roller coaster known as Posting Season. Phase One of the Twelve Phases of Posting: Real Estate Research.The beginning of a loooooooooong journey of adventure and emotional upheaval. 
I've learned to love it. 
The thing is, I suspect I'm not alone in the military spouse world. Are you a Real Estate Researcher? Always on the look out for a new home? It's not that I don't love my current one. I do. I don't really want to move. I love our quiet home in the country...far enough away that we have no light pollution, yet close enough that I can work in the city. It's perfect. And would still be perfect if we were never posted again.
But I love to dream. I love the thrill of the search. 
Now...wasn't there a new home for sale on that street? 
I'm off to check...

Brenda

Note: I use this website for my addiction:  http://beta.realtor.ca/index.aspx?CultureId=1
What's your favourite?

2014 Let the changes begin!

January sunrise.
January has been a bit of a write-off for me--no pun intended. Sometimes you just gotta go with it. Christmas vacation, day job nuttiness, family responsibilities and other things reduced my writing time to next to nothing, and with personal deadlines looming, my stress level went waaaaay up. I was not happy, I couldn't focus on my writing and everything else was suffering. Then my day job announced a  HUGE change which left me in a bit of a pickle.

I had to make some BIG decisions, do a little soul searching, and come up with a way to make it all work.

I really suck at making decisions.

REALLY.

I moaned and groaned and gnashed my teeth--just a tiny bit. Okay, a lot. My hubby, God bless him, listened and patted my back and said all the right things. My kids hugged me and gave me VIP snuggles. Even my in-laws heard my story and gave me great support. But in the end, I had to choose between what is right, what is easy, and what will keep me from diving head-first off of the deep end.

I've cut my day job hours.

Yup.

Scary, but necessary. You see, I love my day job, really I do. It's fulfilling, and I'm so blessed to have the ability to work with such amazing people. But writing…writing is my PASSION. When my fingers hit the keyboard and the stories start falling out it's…magic. It's indescribable. It makes me happy. Even if what I'm writing is crap. It's…it's just right.

More days to write + still working at wonderful day job = happier Brenda. All fixed, right?

Well…almost.

You see, on top of everything else, there are VERY LOUD rumours (not yet confirmed) that we are posted this summer.

Ah the joys of military life. Just get things sorted out and, BOOM! The 'P' word!


POSTED.
For those of you who have never experienced the mental, physical and emotional chaos of a military posting, lucky you! I suspect most of my readers have had to move for some reason or another in their lives. If it comes to fruition, this move will be move number nine in the seventeen years my hubby and I have been together. (It would have been number eleven, but we opted to stay put whilst hubby went unaccompanied to Toronto two years ago). That's a big number, but I know others who have moved many more times than us. So I'm not complaining. Just laying down the background.

When you move that often, you develop a process. A personal/family survival plan of how it works best for you. No move is ever perfect (and believe me, we've had some doozies) but with the right amount of planning and flexibility, they can be a lot of fun and even an adventure. New places and new  people and experiences--new everything! Well, except our stuff. That's not so new. Nine moves makes for some lovely dents and scratches on the furniture, broken frames, smashed china, ripped upholstery, flattened lampshades, unserviceable electronics... But I digress.

The point I am trying to make is that 2014 is going to be a year of change, and I am so excited to start! What changes are happening for you this year? Moving? New job? New manuscript?

I can't wait to see what the year brings. I'll be blogging about posting prep and processes over the next few months.

And then in July… BOOK LAUNCH!

It's going to be a great year!

Brenda

Merry Christmas!

The hustle and bustle is almost over and the countdown is on for the big event! With computer issues, day job issues and a full calendar of family Christmas concerts and parties, I've been MIA for the past few weeks, but I'm back in action (with my Christmas gift to me, my new MacBook Pro) and ready for 2014…Lots of exciting things to come!
I'd like to wish you and your family the happiest of Christmas-es if you celebrate Christmas, and if not, I wish you a wonderful holiday season! To those families who are separated this Christmas as a result of deployments, courses, postings or other circumstances, hang in there! I'm sending out a special Christmas wish for you. 
Thank you so much for all of your love, support and friendship over the past year. I have met so many amazing people on my journey, and I'm looking forward to connecting with many more in the days ahead.
Happy Christmas, and much merriness for the New Year!
Brenda

Need vs Want

Need - verb require something because it is essential or very important  Want - verb have a desire to possess or do.(Oxford English Dictionary, 3rd Edition)

As I may or may not have mentioned before, I spend a lot of time in the car. Commuting to and from my city job, driving kids to horse shows and dance lessons and band practices and guitar lessons and friends houses, shopping for kid food and horse food and dog food and the occasional pizza (well, more often than that...okay weekly pizza)...a lot of time in the car. And because of that I spend a fair amount of time listening to the radio (and talking to myself, but that's not socially acceptable so we'll forget about that part).

This time of the year the radio commercials (and television commercials) are relentlessly hawking items for sale and services for hire. I'm okay with that. It's part of the game, right? And some of these commercials are funny and heartwarming and they make me feel all warm and happy inside.

But as my kids have grown older and I've grown more cynical, I find I'm actually listening to the language of these commercials, and as a family we're discussing them. How such and such a vendor is using a particular word to convince you to by their product. How the music is upbeat, so you think you'll be cooler if you shop in their store. How you need a new appliance to get you through the Christmas season. You get the idea, we're talking about marketing strategies and why they work or why they don't. I'm trying to teach them to think before they buy.

The by-product of all of this parental introspection, though, is that I'm actually realizing how much I mimic commercial-speak in my day to day conversation. And, it being Christmas and all, I'm thinking a whole lot more about the fact that as much as I use the word, I don't need anything.

I have enough food.

I have clean, fresh water.

I have a warm, dry house.

I have clothing.

I have good health.

I have a good paying job.

And I have all of the love of my wonderful family and friends.


So why do I use that word so much? Why do I say that I need a new laptop, when really what I mean is that I would like to have one to replace the one I currently have (which, by the way, is still sporting the blue and red lines of death...)? Why do I say I need a coffee? Okay, maybe that qualifies as something very important...especially for the well being of my children. Maybe it would be better to say that they need me to have a coffee.

Do I really need another book? (Yes. Yes, I do.)

Why do I need new clothes, new Christmas lights, hair products or a new toaster?

The fact of the matter is, I don't need. I want. I want a new coat. I desire an iPad. And diamonds. We all have wants, and that's okay. But there are so many people out there who actually do need. And not only is it my responsibility to help teach my children the difference, it's my responsibility to do what I can to help those who do need. The Christmas season is a perfect time to start. Even in little ways, like bringing a can of food for the food bank box or donating to a charity who helps feed and clothe those who do need.

Our kids watch and listen to the media so closely. And it's our responsibility to counteract the constant barrage of influence that things like commercials have. Because of this I'm trying ever so hard to change how I express myself to suit what I mean. To say I want, not I need.

Except when I'm heading to Starbucks.


Brenda

Mistletoe Memories: Military Family

On this day six years ago I truly came to understand the meaning of the Military Family.

Picture this: You are three thousand miles away from your hometown, living in the beautiful British countryside. Your husband is at work, without cell phone. You've met so many nice people in the past three months, and are just starting to feel settled, looking forward to the Christmas build up in a new country.

The morning starts off crisp and fresh, a beautiful walk with your children to school past hopping bunnies and frost-covered holly berries. The world you live in is surreal, beautiful and foreign. Life is pretty good. You take your youngest to a routine doctor appointment, the doctor is unconcerned, runs some routine tests and sends you on your way. Then you drop her, all of five, dressed in her cute little British uniform, off at her kindergarten class. All errands completed, you settle in for a quiet afternoon of solitude, writing and laundry.

The phone rings.

You answer, still unsuspecting, and when the doctor says hello, your stomach falls.

"Mrs. Dunne? You need to go pick up your daughter from school right now. Take her directly to the hospital. Pack an overnight bag. They're waiting for you, there is a bed set up in the pediatrics ward."

Panic, fear, worry...the next hours are a blur. You try to stay strong, act like this is no big deal while you drive blurry eyed to the hospital, watch your baby get an IV while doctors and nurses rotate through, while your daughter gets her first of thousands of insulin shots. When someone finally confirms the diagnosis. When someone finally admits that this is it, there is no cure, there is no doubt.

You can't reach your husband. You try the only people you can think of to help. Your neighbours, your new friends, people you've known for all of three months.

And they embrace your crisis as their own.

Your other children? Picked up from school, fed, cared for. Your husband? Pulled from the rugby pitch by your neighbour and driven to the hospital to be with you. Balloons and books and flowers sent within hours. Phone calls of support. Cooked meals delivered to your home.

Everything is taken care of, without question or fanfare, so that you can concentrate on getting your little girl better.

This is what happened to me six years ago today. And this is, in a nutshell, what it's like to live in a military family. Your family expands. People you've never met become your allies, your friends, your family by chance. You help them and they help you.

Sure it's lonely at times, frustrating to be so far away from your blood family. The closest we will ever live to my parents is a 6 hour drive away. I miss them. I wish they were here and I could just call and ask for help, or pop by and share a cup of coffee.

But your 'military family' are there for you when you need them. Sometimes they are civilian, sometimes they wear uniforms. They're your neighbours, your friends, your coworkers. They speak different languages, come from different backgrounds.

And they've got your back. They would do anything for you in times of crisis.

I love my military family and I am so thankful for them!

How about you? Have you had a special 'military family' or other experience like this? Would love to hear your story! Drop me a comment in the box below.

Brenda

Military Monday: Military Kids

A different kind of helicopter parenting...8 Wing CFB Trenton 2010  There has been a lot of discussion on the internet lately about the current generation of kids. How this generation, the product of so-called 'helicopter parents' (see this article and others like it), are incapable of caring for themselves. How they need mommy and daddy to help them do everything, from folding their laundry, to helping them pass university courses.
 

As an answer to this...I give you the military child.

I have to say, I scoffed at these helicopter parents articles. Yeah, there's a few parents I've met in my years as a mom that would qualify, but the vast majority don't and won't. I'm sure it's partly because it would drive me crazy to hang out with parents like this. My friends kids' have chores. They participate in family discussions. They work for their allowances. If they get a failing grade, they lose privileges.

Part of the reason I know few qualifying helicopter parents is because, by necessity and opportunity, most (but certainly not all) of my close friends are part of military families.

So what makes military kids different?
1) Children in military families learn quickly that things don't always turn out the way they want. Often their first bed is a car seat, and they are on the road to a new home before they've even comprehended their old one. They say goodbye to their friends frequently. They don't get to choose
Dad just before
departure on deploymenttheir homes or their schools. The service branch their parent belongs to chooses those things, and chooses when they will change.

2) Military kids get big responsibilities on their shoulders early in life. I remember my three year old 'reading' to her newborn sister so that I could put her two year old brother down for his nap. Only a few feet away from me, but she understood that it was her responsibility, and she accepted that. When Dad is away a lot, someone has to step up to help out with other chores too, like lawn-mowing, dishes, taking out the garbage. As one military spouse says, "(Our) children are often in the position of learning to cope with change, they learn to make the best of difficult circumstances, and above all they learn the necessity of sacrifice for a greater good. Children in military families learn independence through adversity; being asked to contribute their skills and talents to the function of the family unit, to accommodate the absent family member."

3) Military kids understand the realities of military life. They hear the news. They know their parent is in danger. They endure disappointment when Dad isn't there to see them perform, to praise report cards, to compete in sports. They cry. They are scared. And they keep going. They get through it.

One of my good friends recently said in a Thanksgiving oriented Facebook post: "Our girls have amazed me with their ability to keep going, not moping around, not waiting for things to happen to them, but going out and making life happen, living it to its fullest. I don't know if I would've been as strong at my age."

4) Military kids have great role models. Parents and other families around them that understand the value of hard work. Immediate role models that don't always want to do what they have to...but they do it anyway.

Now mind you, not every military family encourages their kids to get out there, make mistakes and keep working until they succeed. Some parents take their fear of their spouse's job and reflect it backwards. Their family environment, something they can control, becomes the outlet for something they can't control, ie) their spouse's environment. PTSD can play a big role in over-protective military family parenting (a post for another time...).

But the majority of military kids that I've met in my 25+ years associated with the military are strong, resilient, capable, and hard-working. They're kids that are able to deal with whatever life throws at them...because, well, life has thrown a lot at them already. Their experiences help them prepare for life without mom and dad.

What are your thoughts? Do you know strong, resilient military kids? Or perhaps you know some helicopter parents?  Let me know your experiences in the comments below!

Til next time,

Brenda.

Double Cover Reveal!

Yesterday Rebekah Purdy (my agent mate) and Entangled Teen revealed the covers for LEGEND OF ME, releasing in early 2014, and THE WINTER PEOPLE, releasing July 1, 2014! I'm a day late to the party, but glad to be helping out. Check out the gorgeous covers, exclusive excerpts, and scroll down to the very bottom to enter to win an eARC of each!

On to the reveals!
 
 
About the Book
LEGEND OF MEAuthor: Rebekah Purdy
Release Date: Early 2014
Publisher: Entangled Teen

Goodreads
Sixteen-year-old Brielle has grown up hearing tales of a beast that kills humans, leaving behind only a scattering of bones and limbs. Or so the village elders say. She thinks it’s just their way of keeping children in line, though it doesn’t explain her grisly premonitions of blood, claws, and severed heads.When Lord Kenrick, Knight of the Crowhurst Order, shows up asking questions about the legendary monster and Brielle finds a mangled body in the woods, she begins to wonder if the grim stories are true. Her attraction to the handsome knight grows as she spends time with him searching for clues to the creature’s existence, and she becomes even more determined to help him discover the beast’s location.

But as her seventeenth birthday approaches, her nightmares worsen. If Brielle doesn’t figure out the connection between Kenrick, the monster, and visions of a ghostly woman in the woods soon, more people could die. Including those closest to her…

 
Exclusive Excerpt!
Brambles scratched my legs, snagging my skirt. Gnarled trees bent in gruesome forms, while thick shadows splayed out beneath them. A heavy gloom settled over the woodland as wisps of fog slithered like snakes against the ground. I shivered.
Don’t think. I picked an animal trail to follow, stepping over dead branches and forest debris. Blood pounded in my ears and the hair on the back of my neck prickled. I twisted around to glance behind me.
Nothing there. Only the trees. Urgency gripped hold of me and I picked up my pace once more. As I scrambled through the thicket, an overwhelming scent of rotten meat made me gag. I covered my mouth with my hand and stopped running when a bright red piece of fabric caught my eye. With hesitant steps, I moved toward it.
“Oh God.” I stumbled. There, sticking out from beneath a barberry bush was a severed arm, its finger pointed at me in accusation. My breath came in gasps as I scanned the rest of the clearing.
My foot nudged against something and I looked down in horror to find the head of Liam Gatekeeper staring up at me.
I screamed, backing away as fast as I could. All around me were pieces of his body scattered like breadcrumbs. I shielded my eyes with my hands, until I bumped into something else.
With another scream, I whipped around only to find myself faced with an oak tree covered in dried blood and deep claw marks. My vision darkened and I prayed I wouldn’t faint, that I wouldn’t be stuck in the woods. Because somewhere out here, a monster lurked. If I didn’t believe it before, I did now. The beast was real.
 
 

About the Book
THE WINTER PEOPLEAuthor: Rebekah Purdy
Release Date: July 1, 2014
Publisher: Entangled Teen
Pages: 320

ISBN: 978-1622663682
Goodreads/Amazon/Barnes & Noble

An engrossing, complex, romantic fantasy perfect for fans of Kristin Cashore or Maggie Stiefvater, set in a wholly unique world.
Salome Montgomery fears winter—the cold, the snow, the ice, but most of all, the frozen pond she fell through as a child. Haunted by the voices and images of the strange beings that pulled her to safety, she hasn’t forgotten their warning to "stay away." For eleven years, she has avoided the winter woods, the pond, and the darkness that lurks nearby. But when failing health takes her grandparents to Arizona, she is left in charge of maintaining their estate. This includes the "special gifts" that must be left at the back of the property.

Salome discovers she’s a key player in a world she’s tried for years to avoid. At the center of this world is the strange and beautiful Nevin, who she finds trespassing on her family’s property. Cursed with dark secrets and knowledge of the creatures in the woods, his interactions with Salome take her life in a new direction. A direction where she’ll have to decide between her longtime crush Colton, who could cure her fear of winter. Or Nevin who, along with an appointed bodyguard, Gareth, protects her from the darkness that swirls in the snowy backdrop. An evil that, given the chance, will kill her.


Exclusive Excerpt!
The sky darkened with ominous storm clouds. Giant flakes fell onto my face, sticking to my eyelashes and cheeks. Snow blew unhindered across the yard into what looked like small tornadoes. Oh God. It’s happening again. The frigid air. The creaking of the treetops beneath the wind. Even the way the snow blew across the yard.

I only had one more feeder. Just needed to toss the seeds in then I could leave. Be safe.
The pond water rippled, while the trees bent beneath the strong gusts. Soon, everything became so white I couldn’t see the house. In the distance a strange tinkling sounded, like dozens of wind chimes. What had the shrink told me to do?
Ten, nine, eight. Breathe. Seven, six, five. Shit!

Panic stole my thoughts. I backed away from the pond as the flurries swirled toward me. Chasing me.
Then, I bumped into something—something that felt quite human. A firm chest, arms, hands. Not something, someone. A shriek tumbled from my lips and I spun around to face my captor.
“It’s okay. I won’t hurt you,” a soft masculine voice said, pale hands clinging to my arms as he kept me from falling.
My gaze followed those long fingers, up black leather sleeves, to the most gorgeous face I’d ever seen. My breath caught in my throat. I’m gawking. But I couldn’t help it. His raven hair shot with strands of blue, his face pale and perfect, like an ice sculptor had chiseled it into existence. His eyes—oh God, his eyes. They were the palest blue I’d ever seen. Glacial. He had to be over six feet tall, muscles evident through the tight shirt he wore beneath an unzipped jacket.
His mouth turned up at the corners as if enjoying my scrutiny. A cocky grin that made my cheeks warm.
“You’re trespassing.” I tried to keep the tremble from my voice. “This is private property, or can’t you read the signs?” Bravo, that’s right, scare him off with your bitchiness.
He chuckled. And it sounded like the low song of the chimes. “Doris doesn’t mind me coming around. In fact, I’ve met you before, Salome.”
My name on his lips made my knees go buttery. I groaned inwardly.
“You know my grandma?” I fidgeted with the bucket still in hand.
He gave a nod. “Yeah, I’ve known her for years. But I haven’t seen you since you were a child.”
Warning bells went off in my mind, but I pushed them aside. If he knew my grandma, then he must be okay. “Funny, I don’t remember you at all.”
“Don’t you, Salome?” Strands of my hair blew about my face. He reached a hand out as if to touch them then stopped, dropping his arms back to his side.
“No. Grandma’s never mentioned you.”
He gave me another cocky grin. “Well then, maybe we should be reacquainted.”
“Or maybe not.” I snorted. “I’m not sure how you got on the property, Grandma keeps all the gates locked.”
He produced an antique-looking skeleton key. “She gave me this. Like I said, Doris has known me for a long time.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be a jerk or anything, it’s just my grandma never mentioned I’d have visitors.” In fact, I wondered why she didn’t ask this guy to watch her house instead of me.
The arrogance left his face and he stared at me. “Perhaps, we can try this again.” He held his hand out to me. “I’m Nevin.”
 
About Rebekah:
 Rebekah was born and raised in Michigan (just look for the mitten-shaped state on the map). She’s lived there most of her life other than the few years she spent in the U.S. Army.  At which time she got a chance to experience MO, KS, SC, and CA.
She works full time for the court system and in her free time she writes YA stories. Pretty much any genre within the YA realm is game for her, but her favorites are fantasy, urban fantasy, paranormal romance, thrillers, light sci-fi, and some time travel.
She also has a big family–she like to considers them the modern day Brady Bunch. When her hubby and her met and got married, he had 3 children from a previous marriage, she had 2 and  have 1 together. It’s a lot of fun though.
And she can’t forget her other family members–yep, they’ve got some pets: 4 dogs, 3 cats,  and 1 turtle. Everyone in the family has one…she won’t bore you all with their names (unless you really want to know). Okay, you talked her into it! Jack, Pearl, Grr…(yes that’s her dog’s name), Callie, Shadow, Mooshoo, Grouchy, and Sorbert. Other than writing some of her other hobbies include: reading (mostly YA of course), singing, swimming, football, soccer, running, camping, sledding, church, hanging with her kids, and traveling.
She belong to a fabulous writing group called YA Fiction Fantatics (YAFF) and you guessed it they all write YA!
REPPED by Jennifer Mishler and Frances Black of Literary Counsel.
And that’s her in a big ‘ol nutshell.

Website/Twitter/Facebook/Goodreads

Giveaway Details:
1 eARC of LEGEND OF ME International
1 eARC of THE WINTER PEOPLE International


Rafflecopter Link:GO HERE TO PARTICIPATE:
http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/share-code/ZTIzODliYTI4ZTEzMGVjODBhNzA2MmFmMTU3YWM3OjEyNQ==/

Military Monday: Waiting

Oh, patience. My downfall. My weakness. My ever not-present friend.

The military lifestyle requires patience in abundance. So much waiting! So much hoping and crossing fingers while the POWERS THAT BE decide your spouse's fate and you smile and nod and support from behind.

I suck at waiting.

(Those who have been with me for a while will remember a post not to long ago about my lack of patience in the writing world...mind you, it all paid off in the end...)

I suck at waiting because I am a PLANNER. I like to have all my cute little canards in a row as soon as possible, so that I'm prepared to ride the wave when it hits. I was a great Girl Guide. Be prepared? That's me.

Unfortunately when your entire life is dictated by your spouse's job, a job which can change at a moment's notice, planning is impossible. Waiting for news about a deployed spouse, waiting for dates of return, waiting for phone calls, waiting for insurance claims, waiting to find out where in the world you are going to be living eight months from now...waiting, waiting, waiting.

How many of you are out there waiting for your posting orders? (Or I should say your spouse's posting orders, but really, it's the same thing isn't it?) How many of you start searching the real estate sites the second you even hear a squeak about a posting message?

That would be me.


In fact, I probably started searching mls.ca a year ago, just in case. I've got a real estate app on my iPhone for moments when I feel the urge to drive myself crazy with the fact that the perfect house is for sale right now in the place we may or may not be posted. Oh, and let's not forget the wait to actually go on your house hunting trip because your current house hasn't sold. Torture for compulsive planners like me.

So am I alone in this? How about you?

What are you waiting for?


Brenda

World Diabetes Day

The blue circle, the global
symbol for DiabetesOn a completely non-literary, non-military note (I know, it's been a busy couple of weeks here on my blog!)today--November 14th--is World Diabetes Day . I'd like to take a moment to think about that fact.


As you may or may not know, diabetes and the Dunne family are well acquainted with one another...our youngest was diagnosed with type 1 (juvenile) diabetes when she was 5 years old. Since that time, she has had almost 18,000 finger poke blood tests, thousands of needles, and many thousands of dollars of medication (mainly insulin) and treatment. But you know what? She's a healthy eleven year old. We've had many sleepless nights, but she lives a pretty normal life. We are blessed.

But we would still love a cure.

So today I'll be wearing blue, the color of Diabetes Awareness. Will you join me? It's pretty easy to do. Throw on your blue jeans and voila! Instant support. Tell your friends you're doing it for Kate. And then pop a comment down below to let me know that you're wearing blue today--for Kate, or someone else you know.

What does a cure for diabetes look like to my family? Check out my little VIDEO (a throwback from previous years) to see.

Brenda