In the meantime, I’ll go read eMail Our Military, whose motto is, “Supporting Our Military, One eMail At A Time.”
I’m also planning to extend the deadline for the Final Salute giveaway to coincide with eMail Our Military, which will also be giving away an autographed copy of the book.
Unless you want all the folks who speak British English to spit their coffee because, umm, fanny doesn’t mean buttocks to them. It means :::whisper::: female genitalia.
Ahem.
So imagine non-American-English speakers reading this headline on the front page of The Wall Street Journal the other day.
Modest Proposal: A Vermont Town Bucks Nakedness, Skinny-Dipping Spurs An Outbreak of Nudity; The Fanny-Pack Man
A man with a fanny-pack, no less.
Fanny issues might not be discussed much in, oh, The Economist, but they are discussed elsewhere.
But, hey. I bet one of the new bosses (you know, theones from Australia?) might have an idea why using fanny in any context while trying to be serious might have the Brits laughing their arses off at the daft wanks, er, Yanks, who thought it was a good idea at the time.
I just finished reading Final Salute: A Story of Unfinished Lives by Jim Sheeler, winner of the Pulitzer Prize for his Veterans Day special report on Nov. 11, 2005, in the Rocky Mountain News.
Jim Sheeler’s Final Salute should be required reading for all Americans and their elected leaders. It is not pro- or anti-war but instead a gripping account of combat’s price on the families of the fallen. Final Salute is also the inspirational and often heartbreaking story of the incredible, heroic efforts of a Marine officer to help ease the pain of these families. Jim Sheeler should be saluted for providing a heartfelt view inside the returns home from Iraq that too often pass unrecognized by the American public.
He’s right. Everyone should read this book. Everyone.
Final Salute is journalism at its finest. Sheeler writes about military families with honesty, honor and respect. He writes about things most ordinary Americans never read about in the headlines or on the front page. His words are gentle and subtle, yet the stories are powerful.
I can’t write a review, but I can get at least three other people to read this book. So here’s the deal.
I will give away three autographed copies of Final Salute ($25.95, hardcover). Here are the rules.
1) Leave a comment or send me an e-mail.
2) Give me your name and a working e-mail address.
3) Tell me what Memorial Day means to you.
If you win a copy, here’s what I want you to do.
1) Read the book.
2) Write about it. If you don’t have a blog, I’ll give you space for a guest post.
3) Give it to someone else to read. Or keep your copy but give another one as a gift to someone else.
You have until midnight, Friday, May 30, 2008, to enter.
Update: You have a chance at another book at eMail Our Military. I’ve extended my deadline to coincide with theirs.
…
Special thanks to Dave Hurley at Borders. I couldn’t have done this without you!
Or maybe I don’t want to know. I just hope this one found its way to the other side of our screen. You know … the outside. Oh well. At least it wasn’t an alligator.
Why I never take a shower: Things like this happen.
While I lathered shampoo, my youngest walked in the bathroom with a package of chocolate-chip cookies in her arms. I thought, “Umm … didn’t I put that on the top shelf of the cupboard?”
Yep.
That’s my middle child in the photo. According to all three of them, she’s the one who got the cookies. Yipes. When did she get so tall? The pediatrician said she’s in the 90th percentile for height. Incredible for a preemie.
I thought it was the youngest who got the cookies. She’s also the smallest, which means she would have had to use the shelves as a ladder. (Trying not to think about the hard tile floor, her head cracking open and all the shelves crashing down … or some such.)
When she was in the bathroom — while I was showering, which for obvious reasons, I never do — she asked for help opening the package. I told her I needed a minute. In less than a minute she was gone. Apparently, she didn’t need my help.
She’s very resourceful.
See?
Chocolate chips all over the floor. Yeah, that feels great when they melt between your toes. But … chocolate smiles all around.
It could have been worse. They could have cut each other’s hair. Take it back! Take it back! I probably just jinxed myself. Excuse me while I round up all the scissors and lock them in the safe.
They must have known I’d run into these boys in my town.
MR SEXY
Umm … OK.
MR. MONEY
So I wonder … can Mr. Sexy get Mr. Money to pay Mr. Gas for me? Because Mr. Gas? He charged me $60 to fill up my tank yesterday. I could really use the help.
Posted by Becky @ 1:29 pm | 5 Comments 
