Rachel Carson Was Right...But Is Still Ignored

An opportunity came up in church for Chuy to go this summer on a mission trip to Mexico. Someone had pulled out, leaving part of their hefty nonrefundable deposit, and I can make monthly payments until I've paid it all up for him. This trip had come to both our minds at the same time, and the one opening felt like a confirmation.

Chuy's dear friend, Davidson is going, as are his parents, and Chuy quoted Davidson, "If God make a way, then He can also pay," which we, as a family, are living proof of each day.

A long story about Chuy's illegal status seemed miraculously fixed yesterday, after a day long effort to get it all done, during the passport application ordeal. Born in Mexico, yet adopted from Texas, made for an odd paper trail.

My own passport had expired and when both Sergi and Jesse were serving on two different ships during the beginning of our conflict with Iraq, a worry worm burned throughout my brain. What if I were called over there, or to a base in Germany, if either of them got hurt, God Forbid. Then I felt, gut-wise, that I'd jinx their chances somehow if I were prepared to go. Doesn't make sense, does it, but a Mama's worried mind can be fairly irrational.

Now I'm facing the fact that Daniel may have to go to Afghanistan in the next year or so. I'd Facebooked my passport notice, which he'd picked up on, pointing out my children's separation anxieties. I called him up, "I'm gonna come see YOU in Afghanistan," I began, "I can't go an entire year without seeing you." I really can't.

Like there's a delicious Mexican wayside restaurant, in which we can chow down on tortillas, and catch up on each other's activities, as if he can just leave his troops and gab an afternoon away with his clingy mama?

"Mom," patient as ever with my demands, "If I get a break, I'm coming home."

Well, nevertheless, my old passport says Cindy Bodie Brown, I never updated when remarried, now I need a correct one anyway, right? I got my picture made when Chuy did, paperwork in the mail, I ain't kidding, y'all.

My sweet dentist, surprised that the enamel is literally wearing away on my teeth, can we all say stress out loud? He prescribed me a Valium, hoping to calm my inner and outer wiggle worm tendencies, put that gas mask on me too to settle me down, I plugged in my Ipod, nervous as a cat, inhaled and tried to nap while listening to piano music, knowing I couldn't concentrate on a Dave Ramsey podcast while he was working.

This morning both Tabby and Nando have appointments, thank God for Medicaid, as children who've been so neglected during their infancy and early childhood years are often in dire need of dental work.

My U14 sons lost a tournament game last night by one goal, tonight is the high-intensity U17 first tournament game at 7:45 this evening. I'd called Daniel to come with me, need to let a couple of others know, it's do or die this evening, even my own stomach is clenching up, knowing how bad my kids want it, knowing too that they're the babies of this league, gotta play hard against kids who are several years older than they, having lost two players so far to injuries.

Yeah, guys, no pressure at all, right?

Jane had sent me this link, I'd tsk tsked already over it. It just irks the peaturkey out of me that anyone could even think pesticides aren't killing us all. I'd read Silent Spring some 40 years ago and been scarred for life. It makes me wanna cuss, why don't folks get it???