Starting high, so I can work my way back down to the ground.

So..I was pretty much over this blog but those people I work with on Sunday are RELENTLESS.

"What's on the Top Ten?"
"Did that make the Top Ten?"
"Stop being such a slacker and publish the stupid Top Ten"
"Quitter"

Okay, well maybe those bottom two weren't really in there but still. It was implied.

I love working at the USO. Great folks, great atmosphere, lots of people to stare at and make fun of (come on - it is the airport after all). Most of all I love seeing our soldiers, airmen, sailors, DOD...and that other group of...what are they?

OH YEAH! The MARINES!!!

On with the countdown (that last dig was at MFM whom refuses to break up with me)

10. When I get there (actually on time for a change) there is no one from my shift there. I'm all alone. With 2nd shift. What am I going to do? Should I run screaming? Will they stay to help? Am I going to have to open up the bar and let every man fend for himself? How will I check ID's AND serve food? What if I have to go pee? What if someone needs an escort? What if...? Yes, ladies & gentlemen...this is my thought process. Sad, isn't it?

9. Crazy Lady from the GP (General Public) rushes our doors demanding that someone call Security. Something about the flight crew refusing to let her board. I see a DFW arrest report in her future. I did what I do best, I stayed hidden until the drama had passed then walked out in the hall to stare at her from a distance. How dare she disturb the peace of this frozen sandwich sanctuary!! Crazy lady. Take THAT!

8. We pretty regularly have pilots (retired military, current civilian pilots). Okay can we stop right there? Do you see how very far I have come with my military speak? It's like mold. It grows on you. I don't want it. I don't like it. But there it is flying like runny poop off my fingertips and out my lips. I say things like "Bravo" - that's military speak for "b" - and I can call the PAP office to speak to the Sargent without peeing myself now. I've really grown. I'm so freakin' cool.

7. Since I ruined 8, here it is again promoted to 7 - We have a lot of pilots (civilian, retired military) come in. One gentleman in particular, is every week just about. He never eats what we serve. This Sunday is no different. He goes down to Chili's, comes back with a salad.

Chellie: Dinner?
Pilot: Yep. kdsjfoienvc?
Chellie (not wanting admit I have no idea what he asked): Sure!
Pilot (swings to a stop, stares in amazement): Really?
Chellie (oh no oh no oh no): Nah, just kidding. um..he he?
Pilot (looking relieved): Are you sure? I mean I always say I'll share but no one has ever said yes.
Chellie (IDIOT! He thought you wanted to steal his dinner!): Yeah, I'm sure. I was really just teasing you. Silly. Goose. (I run to the bathroom to die a little)

6. Cutest little boy ever:

"I'm going to see my Daddy!! I'm soooooo hhaaaappppyyyy!"

What a lucky little boy. And what a lucky Daddy to have such a great kid!

5. We had 3 LTC's come in. I would tell you what LTC stands for but I can't spell it. ;-) The first begins to tell me about this unit he's in charge of and I boldly (yes, I said BOLDLY) asked if he had a coin for us. He did...and so did the other two. It was like Christmas. The greatest part was the first LTC wrote a blurb about his coin, handed it over and kept saying, "Are you sure you can read it?" and "Can you read that?" Like 20 minutes later, he comes up and asks again. I was sweet to see that little insecurity in one with rank.

4. Cutest Dog Ever: Lola Let me just say that the owner almost accidentally on purpose misplaced her and that would have been because I stole her.

3. Largest Traveling Family Ever enters. I love all our visitors. Really I do. And I appreciate ever blink a soldier has every blinked. That's how appreciative I am. But really? I got the evil eye from the family because I didn't have an ice cream CONE. Had bars...no cones. Whatever. At least my hat wasn't wrapped in duct tape. JUST KIDDING. I hope they come back to see us again real soon.

2. I'm a pro at working the phone. I don't hesitate to answer. I'm one of the few..the proud...anyway...Mr. Bo Gingles mom keeps calling. Her son is stranded. For three days. What do I do? What can he do? What can you do for him? I calm her down, tell her to send Gingles to me and we'll take care of him. She calls again. Then again. And yet again. I loved her. That's the kind of mom I hope I am to my kids. I see so many of these young men and women with no one looking out for them. Except that Gingles was more embarrassed than grateful. haha!!

1. Ok. Sailor Boy. Fashion statement. So worried about his swimming trunks and combat boots he has to apologize. Except when I asked to take his pic, he busted out a GQ pose. I love the Navy. Sigh.

How was that? Pretty darn sweet. I'll post the pick of sailor boy when I get home...we blocked super cool mail sites at work.

For all of you that aren't aware - http://www.supportourseals.com/ - read it, support it, stand behind it. Rally May 3rd at the JRB in Ft. Worth. This situation makes my heart hurt. I think about Marcus and SEAL Team 10, and the choice they had to make because they feared being incarcerated. They let that goat herder live - and that decision cost them everything.

This terrorist is accused of being the mastermind behind the Blackwater murders, where American Security Contractors were tortured, drug through the streets and their charred bodies hung from a bridge for all the world to see. Our fellow Americans. Human Beings. The military has one witness. 1. There are 10 or more others that said the 'beating' never happened. Two of our SEALs are free, found not guilty. Now we wait to see what happens with Matthew McCabe. Here's to hoping he meets the same end as his comrades.

Don't make this SEAL your example.

Check me out on my soapbox. Damn, it feels good up here!

Until next time, saving the world one Navy SEAL at a time....

The UFC hosted a free fight night event last night to help raise awareness and money for the Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund, a wonderful charity setup to provide support for families who have lost loved ones in service and for our wounded military personnel and veterans.

I've never cried at a UFC event before and I'm not happy about it happening last night (okay, maybe once when Serra took down GSP). I'll admit the first tear fell because I was sad to learn I was missing out on an entire stadium full of military guys and gals watching the only sport I know anything about.

All the tears that came after were because of those sad little stories they tell in between the fights. Why do they have to do that?

Here's the skinny, IFHF is planning to build a state of the art center (National Intrepid Center of Excellence) dedicated to research and treatment of military personnel and vets suffering from traumatic brain injury. This is referred to as TBI. If you watched the show it is burned into your brain. Not a slam, it was just kinda funny how many times they said it right after they said traumatic brain injury, or TBI.

I'm so proud of the UFC for taking the time to put this together. Sure, sure, they probably got something out of it (or maybe not, who knows) but the point is that IFHF surely got something more out of it. With any luck they raised enough to make quite a dent in the 20 mil they needed for the project.

I have been thinking lately about our veterans and some of the situations they find themselves in. One particular cornered me in Terminal D at the USO and inquired as to why the USO only recognizes active or retired service men (and women). After I got over my fear (KIDDING! He was a wonderful young man that made me laugh) I couldn't stop myself from starting to read up on veteran's affairs and the like.

My step-father, a WWII vet (don't laugh - he was 23 years older than my mother), received all his care from the VA when he was diagnosed with cancer several years back. Same goes for my father that I lost to cancer when I was six. Then there is my crazy Vietnam uncle (don't we all have one?) who was literally certifiable but the VA would not offer any assistance for his now diagnosed PTSD, so 30 years after the fact they are finally taking care of him. And my other sane-uncle who repressed his memories of Vietnam until, oh about 5 years ago, when he went ape shit crazy. Then there is my brother in law, a Gulf War vet that, although has always been a little too big for his britches so I don't blame the war, who may now have a child that they worry might be affected by GWS.

And then I have a friend of a friend that has a brother who was injured in Iraq. TBI. That entire situation is/was crazy. We had to sign petitions and write letters to congressmen to try to force the military to continue to care for him and to provide the numerous surgeries required to nurse him back to some order of health.

With the exception of my father and step-father who were taken care of quite well, all these other things are unbelievable to me. It is unfathomable to me that our vets and injured service members literally have backs turned on them. It's heartbreaking to read some of the stories or in my case witness the suffering of loved ones impacted by the complications of war.

Complications of war? Oh my, I'm all up on my soapbox. Gawd.

Basically, I just saying get involved. Somehow. Donate, volunteer, whatever.

You can donate to Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund by clicking here.

Every dollar counts.

(hope I didn't rip that off from someone...)

Join me later as I post fascinating moments from last night's fights. Josh Kos rocked the mo fo...and that arm bar made me want to vomit.

It's pretty freaking sad when you are laughing at your own post title...I'm just saying...it's all Bob.

So, I read a book. Wow, right? I read tons of books. But I actually read a non-fiction book (got your boots on? Good, cause this is getting deep.). The Lone Survivor. An amazingly heart-wrenching story of one man's survival during a military mission gone ape shit. Basically, a four man seal team is dropped into the middle of nowhere Afghanistan to gather information, if not capture, a notorious Taliban/Al Qaeda operative. A heard of goats and a couple of herders stumble upon them and the battle is on. One by one Marcus Luttrell watches as each of his comrades fall around him. Long story short, he survives. Against amazing odds, he survives. This book changed my life.

Okay, so my trip to The Bahama's changed my life also but in a completely different way. Up until the point in my life where I read this book, I supported the soldiers fighting for our country overseas. In my own silent, patriotic way, I supported them. Thank you and come home safely. But this book, those sad, stoic, sometimes witty words broke my heart. Made me stand back and really look at the world around me, my own tiny little piece of this great big atmosphere and see all that I could have, should have been doing. He lost his best friend. Heard him screaming for him to save him from the death that awaited him. Kept his brother's best friend by his side as the life slowly ebbed from his body, telling him with his last breath to make sure he would tell his wife that he loved her. Kept his composure in the midst of fear and heart break. Living through a hell most of us could never imagine.

It's a powerful story of survival. Survival of living. Plain day to day living.

My family and I adopted several soldiers after I finished that book. Male, female, platoons and squadrons. People who ask for things like snacks and toothpaste. Soap. Small things we all take for granted that are so greatly appreciated by these men and women that every thank you email I receive makes me happy while at the same time it breaks my heart.

World Peace is a beautiful ideal. But it takes work and courage and a strength of character displayed by every soldier that boards a plane or ship to parts unknown. A character trait I find myself greatly lacking. Each one of them is special and deserving of something more than the silent 'go team' offerings of coach potato patriots, such as myself.

Buy the book. Adopt a soldier. Let them know that, regardless of your opinion of the war, you support them. Not the government or governmental policies, but them.