Posts Tagged With: Love

~ Multi-Grip Valentine ~

I get the award for THE BEST Valentine’s gift to a hubby this year.  I don’t care if you gals got your hubbies season tickets to a private box at Oriole Park at Camden Yards.  I don’t care if you got your Beloveds a case of his favorite, over-priced microbrew and a booklet of homemade coupons for favors that you made out of candy sweethearts.   I WON this Valentine’s Day.  I’m the queen.  Put a Capital on that:  I’m the QUEEN of Valentine Wifey Gifts for 2016.

“WHAT???”  You beg, jumping up and down in excitement, “What makes you the Queen this year, Mama?”

I’m so glad you asked!

I thought about My Captain, and how difficult he is to give to during any holiday.  He’s impossible to shop for for Christmas, Birthdays, you name it.  It’s not that he’s high-maintenance, or overly particular.  It’s that he is exactly the opposite!  He is LOW-Maintenance.  He doesn’t want anyone spending time and money on him.  He ignores the argument that other people might enjoy giving as much as he does.  He refuses to be a receiver.

Santa gave up on him decades ago.

So I thought about him.  And I thought, and I thought, and I thought.  What makes this man happy?  What, within my realm, could I possibly give him to make him grin ear-to-ear, and feel absolutely taken care of, the way he makes me feel so supported?  What do you give such a  man???

Which led me to this stroke of genius:  HELLO!!  He’s a MAN!  The answer was suddenly so obvious, if it had been a snake, it would have bitten me.  Twice.

My friends, I bought him a TOOL. But not just ANY tool!  I bought him a genyouuuuuiiiine, original, one-and-only FIRE FALCON.

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I gave it to him today, in advance of Valentine’s Day, because I have NO ability to keep a secret, and I just CAN’T WAIT!!!!  Patience has never been my strong suit. Thank goodness My Captain finds it charming!

At least, I tell him he does.

What is the Fire Falcon?  I mentioned it in my last post: Stovetop Grease Fire, A Love Story.  This is the best, fanciest, hardest-core, extreme firefighting tool ever made, here, and around the world.

It’s not cheap, because it’s made of highest grade materials, like composite, steel and fiberglass.

It has advanced engineering, and was created by one of the oldest, saltiest firemen in the nation.

It is The Cadillac of fire-overhaul and battle weapons. This thing is THE BOMB, and every firefighter out there secretly covets one of these.  Believe me, it’s right up there with the lastest iPod, or iWatch, or gizmo gadget.   Anyone who uses this thing can’t HELP but channel a little bit of Batman when he’s working.

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What, exactly,  does the Fire Falcon do?

When a firefighter is in a fire, they have to COMPLETELY extinguish that fire, and they have to get it right the first time.  And if the fire has extended into areas that are hidden, ie: behind walls, or over ceilings, or under floors, they have to find it.  To do this they have to expose these areas…they have to open the walls or the ceilings, or the floors, to find a sinister little phenomenon that they call “Fire Extension.”   Using the right tool to expose this can mean the difference between life and death….No Joke.

See the three-pronged grapple talons, or, as I like to call them, ‘whosie-whatsies’ on the one end?  (Do NOT judge my kitchen rug…I’m not a photographer, people! I’m a Mama!)

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It’s closed, then with a twist of the multi-tool handle, the spring-loaded talons open.  It can be used to break through a ceiling or wall, and the talons will fold down as it passes through the drywall, then open to a grapple-hook of sorts… (Do NOT judge my poor camera skills!)

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…which then can grab more dry wall, or whatever they are trying to clear to get to fire extension.  It saves valuable time and muscle resource, and come on, it’s cool as all get out.

See the loop on each end?

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Those are for attaching rescue carabiners, in case of a need to bailout of a window, or off a roof, or some such calamity.  In other words, a firefighter in need of extreme escape can ram the grapple hook through a wall after attaching his rope to it, and then fling himself down and away from the inferno with a much greater chance of survival.  That’s a good thing!

And see this other end?

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It’s a hammer. It’s a Prying End. It’s a combo-grip.  This end is great for prying apart trim work, breaking doors,  ramming walls, and other forcible entry needs, and it’s also a mighty comfortable handle.

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And look at the grip.  THAT is a grip, baby! (I’m talking about the handle, not the hand!)

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OF COURSE I did my homework, and asked the company to send the right size for My Captain.  The Fire Falcon comes in many sizes to fit each firefighter!  My Beloved is a long, tall drink of water, and he needed a big one!

I think he liked it.  I KNOW he wasn’t expecting his Valentine’s present to be made of Steel and Fiberglass.  I definitely know he is the only one on his shift that is getting one for Valentine’s Day!  He’s special!  So yeah, I think he liked it.

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Wanna know how I know?

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I win!!

 

Love,

Valentine’s Queen, 2016

 

 

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~ Tough Love Competition ~

It is the eve of September 11th.  A sober night for our country, and particularly poignant for My Captain, since he was deployed with Maryland Task Force One to join the collapse rescue effort that morning at the Pentagon.

untitledCCHe would spend the next 7 gruesome days on the ground of the disaster as the Task Force Leader of Maryland Task Force One, leading their effort to find any viable survivors.

They found none.  Not a single one.  Plenty of burning jet fuel and rubble, but no survivors.

One “holy cow” story that came out of his experience that deployment actually happened on 9/12.  A man in a military uniform was brought to My Captain during the rescue efforts because he had a NEED to get to a desk on the exact spot the plane hit.  It turned out that there was a file on that desk about the very man they knew they had to find:  Osama Bin Laden.   The military man needed to get to that desk and find that file.  My Captain feared there was no way the file or probably even the desk had survived.  But they got that man up the treacherously unstable rubble pile, and UNBELIEVABLY the desk was sitting right next to where the building collapsed, and the file was still sitting on it…unscathed.  UN-FREAKING-SCATHED.

No one could believe it.

There are other 9/11 deployment stories My Captain shares.  We’ll save them for another time.  He does share some of them every year with our local middle school on 9/11.

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In fact, he’ll be there all day tomorrow, as he has for the past several years, telling the kids about a day they were not even born to experience.  It’s crazy that those kids never knew the Pre-terrorist America as we did, growing up.

These thoughts were rattling around in my head as I was methodically doing the dishes this evening.   I thought about all of the families that were forever changed in that brief morning, and how all of those people never knew it was coming.  They never got one final goodbye.  One final hug or kiss.  They weren’t ready.

My eyes drifted to this:

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and I smiled.  Several months ago, I came down one morning and saw a note from My Captain that merely read: “I love you dearly.”

I left that note up there because every time I saw it, well, I felt warm, and tingly, and loved.

And then sometime this summer, I noticed that Varmint had added to it: “I love you more!”

And then sometime later, My Captain wrote: “I love you both the most!”

And then my Varmint wrote: “I call loving you guys infinity!”

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It was absolutely juvenile, and disturbing that we can’t even love each other without some kind of competition.

But truly, it makes me smile even bigger than before because, unlike so many of the victims of 9/11, we treat every day in this house as if we will never get the chance to say we love each other again.  Partly because My Captain’s profession is one of risk and danger.  And partly because of the lesson that was that horrible day.

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One we will never forget in our household.

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That’s My Captain in the white officer’s shirt at the far right of this picture.  If you are wondering why they were smiling, it was because they’d been deployed for 7 straight days and they were being relieved to go home…they were about to see their loved ones.  And they knew they were given the great gift to live another day to see those dear ones.

And love them.

Even if it was in an oddly competitive manner.

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~ The Hot Box ~

Yesterday was a whopper of a hot day here at Pop-pop’s beach cottage.  I mean it was a humid, fly-biting, feels-like-the-air-has-already-been-breathed kind of day.   Around 9 O’clock, I checked in on My Captain, (who is in week two of his beach chair shed project that he and his best friend Ty had started when Ty’s family visited earlier last week)…

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(remember he is on vacation….).

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and found him in the garage, planing wood.

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He was drenched with sweat.  Even his hat was dripping…and it was only 9 O’clock in the morning!

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It was already nearing 100 degrees (it got to 105 by Noon – which in Delaware is most emphatically NOT a DRY heat) and My Captain was out working in it.

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He’s the kind of guy who gets hyper-focused, in case you hadn’t noticed.  Anal Retentive to the extreme, he wouldn’t even stop to drink until I stamped my foot and unplugged his power cord.

Yes,  I really behave like that. I’m a tyrant. Don’t judge.

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So I took it upon myself to make him a work-oasis.  I put a beach umbrella out where he was working in the sun.  I took no less than three INDOOR (as in, not safely meant for OUTDOOR) extension cords and put a fan outside (I’m an incorrigible rebel, I confess.  I also rarely put the milk away when I get it out.) where he would be, and switched that puppy on to ‘High.’

Did it make a difference in the heat?

 

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Er, no.

But I bet he felt loved.

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He did eventually call “uncle” and gave it up around 3pm, when he got tired of the relentless, oppressive heat and biting flies.  We dragged him down to the beach, where he was still in relentless, oppressive heat, and was still sweetmeat for the biting flies, but at least he could go jump in the cool, rather shark-infested Atlantic for respite.

Ah, living the dream, I tell you.  Living the dream.

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He plans to finish the shed tomorrow…has to, really, because he signed up to work Overtime at the firehouse for Friday, and so will be cutting his vacation short. (Someone has to pay for my Lindt and Hershey Chocolate habits, for which no rehab has put even the slightest dent.)  As far as the shed project goes, that means putting the siding on, building and installing the doors, and painting any trim.  But he’s totally got this.  He’s a hyper-focused animal, My Captain.  It’s what makes him so good at his job as a fireman and FEMA task-force leader.  He’s always super focused on the mission!

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And we’ve decided to name this particular mission ‘The Hot Box’ in honor of the tortuous conditions he slaved under and survived!

Thank you, Beloved!!!

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~ A Critter Christmas Tree ~

Since our Christmas season this year is going to be rather abbreviated for various reasons, we had to squeeze a pound of Christmas Do-ings into an ounce of time this weekend.  We hunted for and cut down our Christmas Tree, 2014-11-29 14.13.04 pruned it, put it up, realized it was crooked, and put it up again, decorated it, and decided it was facing the wrong way, so we moved the whole ding-dang show until My Captain’s OCD was satiated.

AND, we went to two shows:  “A Tuba Christmas” and “Jingle Bells, Batman Smells.”

Don’t judge me.  I’m trying to entertain people from the ages of pre-teen through Senior Citizen.  It’s tough to make everyone happy.  Fortunately potty humor is our universal love-language, and we do just fine at venues like these. 2014-11-29 13.41.39 Hunting the tree on a crisp, cold, clear day was lovely, as it usually is every year. This year we actually forgot to bicker, and clearly we need to go back and have a do-over.

A Christmas tree hunt without some minor family squabble feels just plain weird. But without much ado, the tree was agreed upon. 2014-11-29 14.13.56 The children each got their try at cutting….2014-11-29 14.13.22…though to be fair, they might have been napping, it was hard to tell. 2014-11-29 14.15.28 And My Captain, as he does every year, had to finish the job. 2014-11-29 14.19.25 I supervise.  At my age and girth, it is my God-given right to just stand there and supervise. 2014-11-29 14.13.28 Critter found a couple of oddities this year at the Tree Farm.  Most notably was a dead possum at the base of one of the trees in the field. 2014-11-29 14.15.10 Because nothing says ‘Live Christmas Tree’ like a halfway rotted corpse of some unfortunate overgrown rodent.

But also, he found the tree tops of two Christmas trees that someone else had clearly trimmed and discarded right there in the field.

MOM!  I’ve got to have these!

Er, okay.  For curiosity’s sake, why?

I need to make a couple of Critter Cristmas trees!  They’d be like Charlie Brown Christmas trees, only REAL!

My Captain’s mind was way ahead of us.  Right after he got our precious family tree up for us to decorate, he took Critter to his work area, 2014-11-29 19.37.59 and proceeded to do manly things like glue with super heavy duty, oh-lord-don’t-get-this-on-your-clothes wood glue.   2014-11-29 19.43.12 and drill with a heavy duty, two speed, supercalifragilistic drill, 2014-11-29 20.03.30 and nail…gently, so you don’t split the wood!  And because Mama is watching, and you KNOW how she gets. 2014-11-29 19.45.12 And the next thing we knew, Critter bellowed, “Eureka!” and it was done.

Okay, there was no “Eureka!”   It was more like a “Behold!”  Or maybe it was a “Woot!Woot!”  I can’t really recall.  But what I DO remember is his face.  It reminded me of the Absentminded Professor right after he invented Flubber. 2014-11-30 11.00.21 But a Critter Christmas Tree is way, way, WAY better than any silly ol’ Flubber.

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~ What Kids Really Need ~

I took Varmint and Critter to see the movie Mr. Peabody and Sherman a couple of days ago, then afterwards stopped at My Captain’s fire station to visit.  We hadn’t been there long before the munchkins, who were fired up after eating precisely 5.356 pounds of gummy bears, each, during the movie, began to be raaawwwwthar annoying.  You know…..

“I’m not touching you!”

“Quit it!”

“I’m not touching you!”

“Quit it!”

“I’m still not touching you!”

“Mom! Tell him to stop!”

“Critter, stop it.”

“Mom! I never touched her!”

That kind of thing.  I was tired by that time of the day, and wasn’t in the mood to deal with it well.  I begged the guys on the shift to help corral the brats.

One of My Captain’s Shift’s Master Firefighters, Craig, has kids of his own, and knew exactly what to do.  He walked into the office, and said, “All right, kids, time to wash the truck.” And then he turned and strode confidently to the engine bay, without looking back, as if there were no question that his order would be followed.

Both kids looked at me, perplexed.

“Well, Go On!” I nodded.

They whined and griped, but reluctantly followed him.

I waited a couple of minutes…just enough to let Craig get them started, then snuck into the bay to catch this on film.

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They spotted me and glared at me.

I snickered.

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“This is so unfair!” one muttered.

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“We’re not even getting paid.” one whined.

Craig chuckled and pointed out spots they missed.

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And he kept them at it until it was done.

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And then, something wonderful happened.  Halfway through, the whining stopped.  You could see my brats start to take pride in how clean the truck was.

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Some of the other guys on the shift stopped and watched.  You could tell the kids knew they were being observed, and made a show of putting extra elbow grease in.

It was attention, for the right reasons:  They were helping.  Being productive.  Being selfless.  They felt like a part of the team, like their efforts mattered.

And they were proud of it.

THAT is what kids need.  They don’t need more toys or channels, or more Ipods and x-boxes.  They need to be put to work, so they can prove to themselves that they matter, and what they do matters.  You can tell them until you are blue in the face that it’s not what they say in life, but what they do that makes them, but until they actually do, DO, it can’t really register.

Master Firefighter Craig has several kids of his own….he knew what he was doing.  This wasn’t his first rodeo!  He turned their negative behavior around…morphed it into positive, self-image-building work, and, quite possibly saved their lives in the process.

Thanks, Craig!

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