Once, in Germany, someone said nein!

I came home late last night and immediately sunk into the bathtub. Supposing I could bring my words with me, I sat in the tub with my notebook and a pen balancing on my knee. Somehow I got water into the pen, and since it's one of those felt-tipped sorts, what was once a deep, dark red ink is coming out an aggravatingly flirtatious pink. I'm upset, and much of my day has been spent reviving the pen and/or willing it into submission. I don't know what I was thinking when I decided to use my iBook as a surface upon which to write light-red words (obviously this situation is distressing to me) and as I type, I'm smearing ink all over myself and my computer. My palms and fingers are covered in red ink, as is my dear little artists iBook, so covered in paint and marker and glue that it's hardly recognisable as a Mac. And how I like him like that.

My reason for being out late after work was attending party hosted by Ed, a former coworker of mine who is in the Army. He quit shortly after I started, but he comes in often and he always has a few moments to talk about what he's reading, what's going on with his lady friends, and to just shoot the breeze. The first time I met him we talked at length about Lawrence, and he told me about the time he saw Gwar at the Bottleneck (yeah, don't ask). Every time I wear my Army shirt (the standard issue green shirt from the women's uniform I purchased because it's my favorite color) he tells me how much he hates it on every woman, and that he's going to bring in one of his for me. He notices things like that, and he's just plain charming. All of the Peet's girls adore Ed because he's the sort of nice, handsome, caring gentleman you want to bring home to your family. I am not quite interested in him like the other girls are, but it wouldn't take much to talk me into it.

So, last night may be the last time I see him before he leaves for Iraq. This will be his third time going, and I don't know what it is he does, or his reason for even being in the Army in the first place (his answer "Dude, I get to play with guns !" doesn't convince me of anything). Ed is a good, smart guy and he should probably be an elementary school teacher or hey, a barista at Peet's. I am very unhappy about him leaving. Ed is the only person my own age I've known to be in the armed forces, and that also makes him the first person I've known to be put in danger because of this ridiculous, pointless war. I'm afraid to think of what could happen to him, and the idea that he's been there twice already does not comfort me in the least; I feel like his chances of coming home are decreasing each time he goes over there.

I will be praying for Ed, and the rest of the men and women overseas, every day until he comes home. I absolutely do not support this war (ahem, ego trip) and until now, I've never thought about what it meant to support the troops. I thought most of them were the stereotypical Army dude, not the guy who reads books and works with kids and drinks coffee while reading The New Yorker.

I've been feeling a little down all day, until now. I just found Evie modeling toddler shirts on BCD. Evie is the daughter of my friends Burton and Lora, and on Valentine's Day two years ago I watched Evie so her parents could go out. I believe we watched a Boobah video and slept, which makes her my official Best Valentine Ever. I met Burton and Lora when Eve-doo was a tiny little baby, and now she's a tiny little adult--er, almost four--and modeling for The Get Up Kids webstore. Clearly, I had a great influence on her. Yesterday I started thinking about going to KU again, and I couldn't find much of a reason not to go. This little face is a big reason to move back to Lawrence, because I miss her parents a lot and things like snow, cheap shows, Pizza Shuttle...hmm. We'll see.