Last week, in search of missing socks, I moved the washer and dryer that came with the house. My reward: one sock and a dime. I washed years of yuck off the floor. All day I smiled in that part of the house. I just felt cleaner. Dirt, even hidden dirt, weighs me down.

Saturday, I was working on the toy room. I know it is unreasonable, but LEGOS in the Playmobile bucket really irritates me. There are now only Playmobile in the Playmobile bucket. Today I plan to finish sorting through the toys. I will set my children to task in assembling puzzles. Any puzzle missing pieces will get the boot.

Moving is work, and moving frequently is a headache, but it gives me a chance to really declutter and organize and clean. And that, my friends, makes me feel so good. I don’t know how you civilians do it: staying in the same house year after year. Do you ever feel completely organized and clean?

My husband read me a joke he received from a friend via email. It was about a dad playing with his 2 year old while the mom was out. The little girl had a tea set and kept bringing him cups of water which he would drink and say how delicious it was. When the mom comes home, he tells her to wait and watch their little game.

At this point in his reading I interrupted with the punch line. OK, Moms, what did the mom know immediately that the dad didn’t?

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Then my husband read me this joke, which really had me laughing. Maybe it’s a military thing.

A U.S. Marine Colonel was about to start the morning briefing to his staff. While waiting for the coffee machine to finish brewing, the colonel decided to pose a question to all assembled. He explained that his wife had been a bit frisky the night before and he failed to get his usual amount of sound sleep. He posed the question of just how much of sex was “work” and how much of it was “pleasure?”

A Major chimed in with 75-25% in favor of work.

A Captain said it was 50-50%.

A lieutenant responded with 25-75% in favor of pleasure, depending upon his state of inebriation at the time.

There being no consensus, the colonel turned to the PFC who was in charge of making the coffee and asked for HIS opinion? Without any hesitation, the young PFC responded, “Sir, it has to be 100% pleasure.”

The colonel was surprised and as you might guess, asked why?

“Well, sir, if there was any work involved, the officers would have me doing it for them.”

Revealed: Top Commentator on Health Bill Under $400K White House Contract

InsideCatholic.com – Catholic Campaign for Human Development Still Funding Abortion Promoter: by Deal W. Hudson

Really. There are so many decent charities out there, why would any good Catholic contribute to one that has ever had any questionable relationships? I don’t care how much they try to clean up their act (and they don’t seem to be trying), my donations will go elsewhere.

When 4 year olds write their own jokes:

“Mommy, what did the M&M guy say when he got run over by the boat?”

“What?”

“OUCH!”

My husband was commissioned via an ROTC program, not a service academy, but some of the sentiments in this article are true for anyone who chooses to serve in the military.

A Salute to West Point: “So his loved ones are a little saddened when we come across people apparently unable to process the idea that an intelligent young American with the world at his feet could be led by a sense of duty to West Point in a time of war.”

It’s winter. It’s cold. What helps me get through these frigid nights? Bedwarmers.

I have several models. The first is called HUBS. It is nearly six feet long and can conform to your body. You put it either behind you or in front of you for full length, head to toe, warmth.

Another model I have is called TOT. This is a fraction of the size of HUBS, but packs quite a bit of heat. You cannot use it to warm your feet (it will break), but it works very well for upper body warming.

I also have an older TOT model – over 4 years old. I have noticed that over time these models tend to expand with age. While this means more surface area of warmth, the dynamics of the model change as well, and it is not well known for its ability to remain in one position for a long period of time. In fact, my particular model often turns 90 degrees and pokes me uncomfortably. I’ve been through several other TOTs now, and for me, by the time they get about 3 years old, they are not the best choice for keeping a bed warm.

Unlike electric blankets, none of the Bedwarmers needs a power supply. They do, however, require daily maintenance, even throughout the year. With proper TLC, some HUBS have lasted 50 or 60 years, providing a lifetime of warm winter beds.

I am very fortunate to have found my Bedwarmer (HUBS) back in the early 90’s when there was a plentiful supply. Today’s newer models just don’t suit me, and the older models are hard to find. I do recommend getting a HUBS before getting a TOT. Since TOTs only last a few years and their performance is erratic, a well-cared-for HUBS is essential for continuous warm winter nights.

Disclaimer: I received no compensation for this review. Good Bedwarmers are hard to find and results may vary, since each one is unique.

The children will not go for a ride in the car tomorrow. Mary, poor Mary, is especially sick of traveling.

There are some things I miss about New Jersey. Traffic is not one of them.

It was nice today to go to Mass at our old parish and have friendly faces and warm hugs to greet us. Hard to believe we left nearly five years, and two kids, ago.

Also nice to visit extended family we haven’t seen for a while, especially now that there are second cousins for our kids to play with. The littlest one, still a few months away from age three, loved Katie’s sparkly “princess” dress – Katie loves it too. And because Jenny was wearing a dark blue gingham dress, the girl decided her name must be Dorothy. Too bad Jenny doesn’t have any ruby red slippers.

I wonder how many late nights these kids can tolerate. Or how many I can tolerate.

Why do the local stores not have eggnog in gallon sized containers?

At the family homeschool dinner, one mom asked me how much longer it was going to be – meaning this deployment. Intently, I stared at her and said, above the tremendous din of 50 rambunctious children, “Right now, my husband is supposed to be sitting at an airfield in Afghanistan waiting for a plane that will bring him home.”

Several other women smiled politely and said, “Great!” and “Wonderful!” One women, someone I don’t really know, seemed more enthusiastic than the others. I suspect that she is or was military. My friend, the one who asked the question, scrunched her face and fought hard to avoid crying, and I, seeing her empathy, scrunched my face and fought hard to avoid crying. We both failed, and she got up and came over to hug me.

And I knew. Here is someone who has thought about me often and prayed for me often and felt my pain and is rejoicing with me now that the end is near. Here is a true friend. Not in action – that wasn’t really practical in this particular instance, but that’s okay. She, like so many of you who read this blog, has supported me spiritually these long months. And I am grateful to her, and to all of you. Thank you. I have felt your love. I have felt your prayers. Even on the hardest of days, I have not felt alone or abandoned or hopeless.

If all goes well, Bill will be home in about a week. And then a new journey begins. Reunions are difficult, and this one comes with an interstate move and a new, challenging job for my husband. I am counting on your continued prayers, dear friends. For now, though, let’s just get this man home to me.