Any more additions to the injured roster and we’ll have to forfeit the game…

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Mornin’ all.

I’m just going to warn you right off the bat to stay away from the coffee today. Have some tea. Or water. We’ve got some of the cleanest, purest water in the state. Fresh ice in the freezer. Help yourself.

“So you invite me over for coffee and a chat, and won’t share your coffee?”

You misunderstand.

See the coffee pot? See the melting handle? If you listen closely, you’ll hear the quiet gloop of the glass morphing from a solid to a liquid state under the corrosive properties of the contents within.

It’s been a week, my friends. A long, long week. And it’s not even over yet.

To get through, I stood there this morning and just kept adding scoops of cheap coffee to the machine until my brain began to quake in fearful anticipation. My previous limit was five, and that’s enough to make your stomach pack up and leave in protest.

You know the “big red button?” Turns out, six scoops does exactly the same thing as smacking that button.

As soon as the first drop of devil’s brew blopped out of the machine, a dry, lonely wind began to blow and a tumbleweed rolled across the scuffed wood floor. I wouldn’t at all be surprised to make it to the end of the pot and find a scorpion or worm preserved at the bottom.

I’m not bogarting the coffee all for myself because I don’t want to share. I’m saving you from my fate. #IGYB

Last week at work, one of the teens pulled an abdominal muscle. Because he is

a) male, and

b) teenaged,

he is a teenage male. Anyone who has one of these knows that when they get injured, they will instantly try and prove how unaffected they are by said injury.

Why? Why you gotta do this, guys? Just take the ibuprofen and use the heat pack and lay still for a few damn days. It’s not being a baby to take care of yourself! Gah.

Then my man got the first flu-like illness of the season. He was feeling very crummy, but at least he’s old enough to just take the ibuprofen and use the heat pack and lay still for a few damn days.

Not to be outdone by father or brother, the youngest decided his bones were all way too pristine. First trip to the ER for that one. Frankly, I’m surprised it took so long. If any of my kids can be considered “extreme,” it’s that one. He mushed an arm bone.

That’s how they explained it. It’s a type of fracture that happens when the bone bends too much but doesn’t actually snap. The x-ray looked like someone had just pushed on the side of the bone with something flat, like a ruler. It’s just…mushed.

Gawd that kid is tough. Almost no crying. In fact, the triage nurse and doc in the ER at first thought he was kind of faking. The doc came back with the x-ray results and said, “Well, this is surprising.”

He just doesn’t cry. That doesn’t mean he wasn’t in a ton of pain. I could see the signs. He gets fidgetty. His answers get short and he holds his breath. And he was shaking like a leaf for hours. He just does not cry.

Not in front of other people, anyway.

They give you a temporary cast in the ER now. When I was a kid, a friend of mine and I decided that THE thing to do was play full contact basketball. On a lawn. Yeah, that ended pretty much how you’d expect.

When I got to the ER, they gave me a full cast right there. After a few days, the swelling went down and my ankle could wiggle around in there so much that I think the only thing the cast really did was collect the coins my older sister decided to stick down it to piss me off. And a knitting needle, a broken plastic fork, and car from the Game of Life.

…don’t ask.

My kiddo got a temporary cast in the ER, then went back a couple days later to get his hard cast. He got a bright red one and can’t wait to show it off at school today.

The cast person asked if he was going to let friends sign it. He thought for a minute, then said, “I don’t know. I have some pretty inappropriate friends. I don’t think I want to wear what they’re going to write.”

Smart boy. I hobbled around with more than one Sharpied “fart” on my cast for six weeks.

Because I don’t need anyone else getting sick or injured, I put gas masks and hazmat suits on the other two, then wrapped them in bubble wrap. There were some muffled noises. Maybe protests. Who knows? Couldn’t really hear them through the masks and wrap. Eh, they’ll be fine. I will MAKE them be fine.

Yesterday was Veteran’s Day. Agree with the conflicts and wars or not, we live in a world that requires soldiers. Some other asshole is ALWAYS going to be waving a pointed stick at us, and I, for one, am very thankful for the women and men who willingly put aside their lives to protect and defend our nation. I may be an anti-conflict hippie at heart, but I most definitely love and respect the military. As much as we might want Utopia, we don’t have it. The military keeps us safe when morons try to prove it.

Being Veteran’s Day, there were many posts on Facebook thanking vets. Paying homage. Poems in tribute and all that. Some were well intentioned but eye-rolling in their insincerity. Some were very moving. Some were powerful. I’m guessing all were appreciated by the veterans.

However, I noticed a trend I hadn’t seen before.

People started posting Veteran’s Day posts in honor of military service animals.

Like, “Thank you to the women and men who risked your lives for us, but who I’d REALLY like to remember today is a fucking dog. He sniffed soldier asses and licked his balls with courage. And let’s not even talk about the way he chased that tennis ball in the line of service. I mean, it was an Iraqi tennis ball. Now THAT’S bravery.”

Let’s just forget for a minute that there are zero military service animals looking at Facebook to read your thanks in the first place. Let’s not even bother to address what kind of mental state it takes for a person to post a thank you to a¬†god dammed horse on Facebook. We’ll just accept that in someone’s warped mind, animals have FB accounts and are touched to read messages from average citizens about their service. I’ll sadly stipulate to these facts even though everything inside is now weeping for the world.

All that aside…

Really? We’re really going to dilute the importance of Veteran’s Day by thanking animals? It’s not enough that we keep cutting spending on after care for our vets? Or don’t pay them jack shit? Or rally against them when we disagree with a conflict the government has joined? We’re now going to degrade them further by taking the one day half of America remember soldiers exist and using it to thank dogs and ponies?

I understand that animals play a role in our military. I understand that those animals are loved and respected by the units that utilize them. But it’s not really the same thing, is it?

A pup is born. The breeder says, “Say, now, that’s a swell pup. Let’s give him to the military to train.” The military trains the dog to hone its skills. Maybe it’s a good sniffer and can help find mines. Maybe it’s better at detecting bombs. It could just have a cutesy-wootsey face and be a really good morale booster for the soldiers. Whatever the skills, the dog is just that. A dog. The dog made no choice to be in the military. The dog did not enlist. There was no thought whatsoever given by the animal to the potential consequences of being a military service critter. The pup didn’t worry about the family left behind, or what would happen to the rest of his litter if he died in duty. It just did what it was told to do in order to get a treat and a belly rub.

I’m not saying that the animals of the military shouldn’t be thought of or respected. In fact, when you think about it, what kind of assholes are we to make all those choices and rope OTHER DAMN SPECIES into OUR stupid fighting in the first place!? Why aren’t there robots to replace them yet? We have the technology. Make it happen!

What I AM saying is that Veteran’s Day should be for the humans who knowingly and willingly chose to make such sacrifices. Who could fully understand the scope and magnitude of their choices and still join the line to protect hippies like myself. Who somehow get okay with the idea of dying as long as they can do it FOR US.

It strikes me as such a slap in the face to say to a veteran “Thanks,” and use your very next breath to say, “But let’s not forget to also thank the brave carrier pigeons because their sacrifice was just as meaningful.”

It wasn’t, folks. It just wasn’t.

Thus concludes a quick Musing for Thursday, November 12, 2015. I didn’t make that up, you know. Someone actually posted a Veteran’s Day thank you to carrier pigeons. I…I just…*sigh*

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