gi jane day iv

I love me some GI Jane day (here's last time, in case you missed). This time we did an indoor firing range. It's like a really big video game. See my machine gun? See it? See it? Actually I kind of sucked.

We also got a little taste of vehicle rollover training. The guys stuck a bunch of protective gear on us, strapped us into this thingamaroo, rolled us around, and laughed at us. Hysterically. It was great fun.

Let's see me with a gun again.

My back hurts.

Photos via Facebook.

on being a power drill weenie

So my man has been gone for a month. (Not deployed. Just in training.)

In Army life, that isn't too big of a deal. But still. It's a deal. 'Specially when you're cooking a small human inside your tummy and you have two other small humans outside your tummy to look after.

After a month by my onesie, I am so happy to tell you that 1) he's coming home, and 2) I ain't afraid of no stinking power drill no more. I decided that it was time to quit being such a weenie about drills, hammers, anchors, nails, screws, and other previously intimidating-to-me "manly" objects. and really? It's empowering to wield a power drill with a big mean bit on it with a big ole pregnant belly, to boot. 'Specially when I'm out with my belly in front of my house on a ladder drilling holes into the front of my house. Makes people drive by reeeeal slow.

Anyway, my point is, I drilled holes in a bunch of crap this month. Like my walls. Which is really not all that exciting. 

Except that it is.

My first attempt using anchors. I'm dumbfounded that it's still on the wall. Like, securely.

Ta-da! music box with wheels.

I found the most awesome vintage hook to use as a curtain holdback. Print from Graphic Anthology.

Sexy glasses, eh? This is a funny picture because my man is not short. He's 5'9. His commander is just ha-yuge.

Welcome home, love. I missed you. You can have your drill back now.

oh yes i did.

GI Jane Day, peeps.

10 hours where we experienced (some) of what our husbands do every day.

PT. Road march. Water survival. MREs. Kevlar. Obstacle course. Forever-long truck rides. Guns. Ammo. 

My proudest moments: completing the Weaver AND

winning the obstacle course race with Ingrid and Danielle.

Yeah baby.

Awesome day...but boy am I whooped.

pie face

We were at an Army meeting the other night where the guys had the chance to bid on pies to throw at their leadership. They'd been out in the field (i.e. camping + blowing stuff up) for a few days, so they were greasy and needed showers anyway.

(Fundraising with men. It works.)

My man was one of the first to go, which was a good thing, because it got ugly a little bit later. His pie (a plate full of whipped cream and chocolate syrup) was worth $35 to this particular soldier. Not bad, love!

Good follow-through, Shelby. See the whipped cream still flying in that last one?

This guy was towards the end, poor soul. That's when they started mixing in condiments/leftovers from the BBQ dinner. Like I said. Men.

Also, I made the Utah Salad Special for the BBQ pot luck and the single soldiers completely flipped their wigs. 

Single girls, if you wanna win a dude, make him this, stat.

Or just make it for yourself and forget the guy. 

Either way works.

butter bar no more

So my man got promoted yesterday. I can't tell you how stoked he is about it (and to not have to wear the dreaded butter bar anymore). Lizzy stuck the new rank on his ACUs, I pinned the new rank on his beret, we kissed, and we had Burger King for dinner. All is right with the world.

Congratulations, love. Two years ago, we stepped off the edge of uncertainty and found a life better than we ever could have imagined. I love our life together. I love you. I'm so very proud of you. Thank you for being the best man a girl could ever ask for.

sorry if you don't care about men wrestling in short shorts, but it's my blog and i'll brag if i want to

When I walked into the wrestling tournament today, nearly the first thing I saw was my man -- with blood smeared across his face.

Awesome.

Apparently we missed a totally rad match by a matter of seconds. He got beat 7-6, but all the guys were buzzing about how rockin' he was. We stuck around for a while, had a good time, and got to see him wrestle again. This time he pinned his opponent in a minute or two.



Getting amped up.



Ready to rock.



Thrown. That was R's favorite picture. And jeez, those leg muscles.



Yep. That's what you get for putting "whiskey kid" on your shirt.

The best part was when R detailed 2 of his soldiers to babysit so I could take pictures. I'm telling you. It's the good life.

Oh! and ETA: At the concessions table, I overheard a soldier say to his buddy, "Aaw man, Mr. T brownies! You gotta get one of those!" Mua ha ha.

manly treats for manly men

So, my man is in the super-macho Contest of Champions today. It's a wrestling tournament they're having at work.

At work.



(The Army is so weird.)

I am all pumped up to take the girls and elbow my way between crazy sweating yelling cursing men -- can't you see it? just like a USU vs. BYU hockey game -- "HIT HIM!!!" -- but I digress -- because just like my rad sister in-law, I've always had a secret desire to see my husband get in a fight.



Mostly because I know he'll win. Or at least come close.

(He was a super wrestling champ in high school. Prom king, too. But that is another story. Ahem.)

Anyway, what I am really wanting to tell you about are the treats I made for the bake sale they're having. And the labels I made for said treats. Because what kind of infantryman says no to a Mr. T brownie? or a Chuck Norris cookie?



The cookies are good -- it's true -- but the brownies are to freaking die for. I had half a piece and moaned pretty much the whole time. You can find the recipe here by clicking on "click to look inside" and going to page 103.



I am irrationally excited about these labels -- they are all yours! -- so get in the kitchen and spiffy 'em up with Chuck Norris and Mr. T (click on images to download).



Go get 'em, sweetie!