manrymission.com

Atlanta is the headquarters of Coca Cola, so I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to go to Coca Cola World. Coca Cola is a vice that I periodically swear off and just as periodically, I start drinking again. One day, when my Pastor was taking a drink of soda, he declared it not evil. Then he hesitated and said, “Well, maybe.” That pretty much sums up my stance on coke. During Abby’s Science Fair, two different students did science projects to convince people that coke was completely unhealthy. One student tried to determine which brand, coke or pepsi, would dissolve a large piece of meat quicker. They came out even. Another student used coke to clean rust off cars. In Australia, the majority of people drink lemonade (a sprite or seven up type drink, not the American version of lemonade). However, they do sell coke in stores and restaurants. To Dales dismay, they do not sell root beer in Australia. At one point we actually imported some root beer and our Aussie friends all declared it disgusting. I grew up in a root beer drinking family. The big treat was to go to the A&W and get a literal frosty mug of root beer. For awhile we went to The Pop Shop and would have bottles filled with orange, grape, and cola soda. I grew up saying pop or soda. Dale, however, grew up calling everything a coke. “Do you want a coke?”, they ask. If you say yes, they will ask you which kind…”Coke, Sprite, Root beer, Dr Pepper?” It’s very confusing. However, the majority of time it is a coke, the favored drink of all Manrys. In Louisiana, the temperature is so hot and humid, the sticky air causes you to melt into your seat once you sit down and you don’t have enough energy to get up and get yourself something to drink. So, throughout the entire visit, everyone is trying to convince their significant other to get up and get them a drink. “Honey, will you fix me a coke?”, they ask. If someone is forced to get up to go to the bathroom or check on the kids, they know that they will be filling coke orders. Dale’s family buys coke in the 2 liter bottles. So, in order to fix a coke, you fill a giant plastic cup with ice and pour the coke on top. The only Manry who drinks coke from a can is Dale’s Daddy and he hides the cans of coke in a cooler in his truck so that everyone won’t drink all his coke. If you ever receive the privilege of being offered one of his cans of coke, you are in high favor indeed. (Just pickin, Sir.) Manry’s begin drinking coke at a very young age. When Dale and I were first married, I watched one of his nephews drinking coke from his baby bottle. (Don’t worry, Tami, I’m sure they’ll never guess that it was your son.) Anyway, Coca Cola World was a must visit location because I heard you could drink coke to your hearts content. Coca Cola world consists of a lot of standing in line or as Aussies say, waiting in the q. We stood in line to purchase tickets, we stood in line to go through security, we stood in line to enter, we stood in line for the movie theater, we stood in line to see the displays, we stood in line to see the bottle works. By the time everyone gets to the tasting station, people are tired of standing in line and it is a bit of a free for all. The first movie they made you watch was dreadful, but the 3D movie of a professor trying to figure out the secret recipe was quite good. The movie took you around the world, snow boarding, had plenty of explosions, and fruit flying at you. You got squirted with water and you seat moved and shook. The bottle works that had an assembly line of robots, gears, and machines that bottle coke was interesting. I imagine Gabe will invent something like that some day. But, the highlight was the tasting station. They had soda machines with all the coke products from around the world. There was one from India that was made from vegetables. Josiah took one drink and poured it out. There was one from Italy that tasted like liquid sugar. The two we liked were Smart Apple and Kiwi Mango. Our shoes stuck to the floor of the room because of all the soda that had been spilled. There was one guy with a mop and bucket trying to clean up some of it, but it was a hopeless cause. They must run a giant floor washing machine over that floor every night. Josiah and I drank coke products until we were sick. On the way out, you can grab a bottle of coke to go. Coca Cola World is imprinted on the bottle. I put the bottles in the fridge for us to bring to the airport and drink at lunch before we flew back. We had only brought carry on luggage and the bottles were greater than 3 oz, so I knew we had to drink them. When we got to the airport, I attempted to twist off the tops and realized we needed a bottle opener. I went to the gift shop for help and the attendant kindly pulled a decorative Atlanta bottle opener off the rack and opened them for me. The other girl who worked there saw her and said, “I had to do that the other day. Everyone wants to keep their coke bottles, but they can’t take them through security with liquid in them.” As I drank my coke out of a glass bottle I remembered something Dale’s Daddy had told me… “There’s nothing better than drinking coke out of a glass bottle.” I’m not certain if I’m the first Manry to make the pilgrimage to Atlanta, but I’m sure I won’t be the last.

On Saturday, my Dad and I ventured to the dump. Having grown up in the sticks, the boondocks, the middle of nowhere, going to the dump was a part of life when I was a kid. When I left home, I was amazed to discover that most people did not have a well, a septic system that froze in the winter, a wood stove to heat the house, and a plug sticking out of the front of their car. When Dale and I purchased our first car, I asked him where the plug was and insisted that we had to get a car with an engine block heater. He not so kindly informed me that I was from the backwoods. Now that I live in a more civilized place, there are still a few things that fill me with gratitude. I am always grateful that I can wheel my garbage can (rubbish bin) to the end of my driveway and someone will come by and take my garbage to the dump for me. A trip to the dump was not exactly a pleasant experience when I was growing up. Our dump adventure was brought about by Stafford County Hazardous Waste Disposal Day. The previous owner of the house had left me 28 years worth of paint cans, deck wash, gas cans, turpentine, mineral spirits, oil, etc. I had piled it up in the garage and kept watch for the day Stafford County would finally allow me to get rid of it. Their notification informed me that people trained to dispose of hazardous waste would remove the items from my car, and that I must have proof that I was a Stafford County resident. I had my drivers license ready and was expecting workers in full hazmat gear. I was waved right in and a guy wearing a clear plastic garbage bag over his clothes and garden gloves started removing paint cans. It wasn’t quite as dramatic as expected. Next, we drove up to dispose of an old dehumidifier. The guy instructed us to go to bin #2. There were massive bins placed below the different numbered parking spots. Dad picked up the dehumidifier and tossed it in. Someone else had thrown in a water heater. There were bins to throw refrigerators in and bins to throw tires in. I stood there thinking, “Michael Thompson would love this place. He would drive around picking up junk, just so he could toss it into a giant bin and watch it smash.” I was a bit embarrased to be driving a minivan. In rural America, you take your trash to the dump in a pickup truck (your rubbish to the tip in a ute) For a long time, I saw nothing but pickup trucks. Eventually, I saw a few people like me driving cars and vans, but we all looked out of place. I know when Dale returns he’ll refuse to go to the dump unless I let him buy a pickup truck. Afterall, you can’t go to the dump on a motorcycle. I’ll probably have to make the drive myself with Gabe for company. Gabe wouldn’t care about the mode of transportation as long as he could go to the dump too. On the way home from the dump, we stopped at Wawa, a convenience store, (Servo). The Wawa is the most popular place in Stafford. It is always busy. People here love the Wawa. When we were in Australia, Zeke started calling a girl from church Wawa, so whenever I go there I always think of Tarooshi. (I probably didn’t spell that right.) The Wawa has 20 different coffee pots, someone who will make you a sandwich, an ATM with no surcharge, fresh donuts, gas (petrol) for your car, and most anything else you could want. When giving directions in Stafford, you must include a reference to Wawa. For example, “Turn left at the Wawa.” “Just past the Wawa.” “You know where the Wawa is, right?”" I learned quickly, that if I was going to fit in, I needed to begin to love the Wawa. Dad got a decaf coffee in a paper cup (No fruh fruh Starbucks Latte for him) and a box of donuts for us to eat. It’s always important to celebrate a successful trip to the dump.

I am a bad fan of the Chicago Bears or I am a fan of the bad Chicago Bears. Pick either statement, they both apply. However, my dear husband is an obnoxious fan of the Dallas Cowboys or a fan of the obnoxious Dallas Cowboys. Both of those statements apply as well. For all you Aussies who understand only footy (Rugby or Aussie Rules), I am talking about gridiron football. Why I let a football game and football team matter to me so much, I can not explain. When the game is on I am transformed into a mad yelling nutcase complete with chants, boos, jumping up and down, and yelling obnoxiousness. Zeke decided that this was a fun game that Mommy was playing and he would join in: “Watch da foobal Mommy?” Soon he was chanting “Defense…Defense”, jumping up and down and telling me, “Give me high five, Mommy!” When the game started to look dire, I ran upstairs to get a rally cap. A rally cap can be any hat worn inside out or backwards or both. Wearing this on your head helps your team to come back when behind in the game. I am a great believer in the rally cap, but my husband is not. Our current home had been sitting on the market for quite awhile with no action. When we put in an offer to buy the house, I had a peace that this was the house for us and that everything was going to go smoothly. Well, someone was lying in the weeds and put in an offer soon after ours. Both offers were being presented to the seller at the same time and our realtor was going to the negotiations on our behalf. We prayed and called my family to pray. The realtor called and it didn’t sound good. Dale and I were watching a baseball game and it was in the bottom of the 12th, 2 outs, with a runner on second. The tv cameras scanned the crowd and I saw a guy with a rally cap on. “That’s what we need to put us over the top,” I told Dale and stuck a rally cap on my head. 20 minutes later, the realtor called to say we got the house. If that didn’t get him to believe in the rally cap, I didn’t know what would. I was convinced he would accept the rally cap’s validity, but he didn’t. He likes dominating winning teams, he doesn’t want the game to be close. I, however, like to think that all is lost and be miraculously delivered from misery. The change in emotion is fantastic. However, my rally cap did not work during the Bears/Cowboys game partly because my eldest son was sitting across from me with Cowboys gear reminding me that I had failed to win him to my side and mostly because the Bears quarterback once again played awful. My gloating, obnoxious Cowboy fan husband called me after the game. The one time, so far, I was glad he was thousands of miles away and he has to call me to rub it in. But, today, good news: our quarterback is benched and my rally cap is back on my head. I’ll see you in the playoffs where payback will be sweet!

This is my first post in a new category - Must Have Deployment Gear.  No matter what Mugs may say, I don’t collect a lot of personal field gear. I will admit to possessing an astounding array of boots and gloves, but if your hands or feet are uncomfortable, you’ll be miserable the whole time you’re in the field! Anyway, I do believe that the right tool can make all the difference.

Someone recently sent me a collection of comics from Bob on the FOB. One of the best is titled Geardo. According to Bob on the FOB, a Geardo is “someone who spends at least 50% of each paycheck (before taxes) on the latest & greatest gear, just to have the latest and greatest gear, regardless of whether or not that gear will actually help the wearer perform his/her duties.” See Geardo and other comics at http://www.bobonthefob.com/pastbob.html.

The first item in my Must Have Deployment Gear list is the spork. For my birthday this year, Mugs and the kids bought me various small pieces of deployment gear. My spork is one of those items.

This awesome spork is from a company called Light My Fire.  If you would like to purchase your very own Light My Fire spork, you can find it online at Campmor.

When I finished my run tonight, I stretched for 10 minutes. Make sure you tell Lay Fong that I’m still stretching; I don’t want to get in trouble again. Anyway, after showering, I used my spork to eat a bowl of Smart Start cereal for dinner. I know in my last post I heaped praises on the DFAC, and now I’m writing about eating cereal for dinner in my hooch. Technically, it was DFAC food, since I brought the cereal and milk from the DFAC. But that’s not the point of this post. This was all made possible by the spork. I carry the spork in one of the cargo pockets on my ACUs and am ready to eat at a moments notice!