Dissenters and Anonymity

I've been publicly blogging since January 8, 2010. This month has solidified the fact that perception is reality. There are people that may read my postings and take them at face value. If anyone reads my postings and digests them literally, I can see where they would get heartburn. I am abrasive and accept that. My husband finds that attribute admirable, although hard to swallow sometimes. I am aware that some folks do not agree with nor understand my sense of humor. Of those that do not agree, they can be harsh and judgmental. I blog with my real name and have nothing to hide. I try to depict my day to day as realistic as possible. I had a dissenter hide behind anonymity and leave a malicious comment. I chose not to publish that comment because it was cruel. I have no problem with opposing points of view. I do have a problem with garish brutality.

My family is happy, healthy, intact and functional. My husband and I are two pieces of a puzzle that fit very well together. We share everything, responsibilities, frustrations, financial burdens, chores and a very strong bond. Dissenters can judge and leave negative comments if they choose. But I will not publish mean comments left just for the sake of being mean.

I am used to my husband and I sharing everything. Suddenly, I must handle everything by myself. My world has been thrown off balance and I am learning to deal with it. With his day to day absence, I cope by finding humor in my situation and blogging. Writing my frustrations down helps me clear my head. It provides me an outlet in which to let go of tensions built up during my day. My husband fills that role when he is home. When he is not home, I need an outlet and have chosen to reach out to those who may be in my situation and can relate. I reserve the right to denounce dissenters and call them out. I recognize that they have opinions, and like feet, everyone has a couple, and on occasion they stink.

However, good comments, bad comments I don't care. I am just pleased as punch I have readers other then my friends and family!

Apology to the Scum Sucking Attorney

I would like to refer to my last post in which I readily admitted I may not know what I was talking about.

So, once again, my inner Drama Queen rears her ugly head and my mouth runneth over. One day I will learn to control my knee jerk reactions. It takes almost nothing to get me riled up. The lien we received in the mail was filed in court in the event we sued a third party. Shands Gainesville apparently does this as protocol in accident cases. This ensures they receive their "cut" and get paid. Good plan for cost recovery! I wonder if those little liens can be filed by just anyone for stuff. I have a friend that owes me $20. I will look into that.

Scum Sucking Attorney

I am no attorney. Nor do I claim to be one. So if I make any statements that sound as though I don't know what I'm talking about, chances are, I may not know what I'm talking about. I am unfamiliar with the laws governing what hospitals can and can't do. I do know I am ticked. Real ticked.

I also know that my husband was in a military related bus accident a week ago. That is seven days. The hospital has filed A Claim of Lien against our house. Our copy arrived in the mail today. How is that possible? This attorney probably didn't even wait until the wrecker had the bus upright. This attorney was probably at the court house in front of the judge before my husband was even discharged. I bet this attorney saw the news feeds and had the paperwork all ready to go while they were still pulling soldiers from the wreckage.

Shands Gainesville never even billed us. How do they justify a lien of $10,408 against our house within a week of the accident? How can we be held accountable for a bill that we have never even laid eyes on? How can we be held accountable for a bill that we haven't been afforded a chance to challenge? I mean, my husband is in the military preparing for deployment and was in an accident. How can this scum sucking, bill collector attorney sleep at night? No phone calls were placed to me, no letters, no nothing. Just a Claim of Lien. This scum sucking attorney is holding a piece of our house hostage. It isn't right. Aren't there procedures?

The Claim of Lien isn't even the issue. It is the ease in which this scum sucking attorney got the lien. Am I to believe that anyone, anywhere can file a lien against a house if they feel they are owed money? How frightening is that? No notifications of any kind, just your copy in the mail. There are no judgments against me from the hospital. I NEVER GOT A BILL. There were no phone calls placed to me regarding my husband and the status of his insurance. He has coverage through the military. Just a lien. That's it. That's all we received.

In all fairness, the insurance information was provided to the hospital and I understand Tricare did not approve the claim. Some kind of glitch on their end. With Washington DC being pounded by a blizzard, there is nobody available to help sort this out. I know once DC workers can dig out and return to work, we can get this resolved. In reality, a lien isn't a big deal. As soon as the military approves the claim, we will receive a Satisfaction, which will remove our obligation. However, taking legal action so soon seems unreasonable.

Sadomasochism and Me

Sa-do-mas-och-ism: the derivation of pleasure from the infliction of physical or mental pain either on others on oneself. ~Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary.

I've heard this word from time to time during my many years on Earth. I'm not one for inflicting physical or mental pain. I certainly do not enjoy inflicting either one on anybody. Unless you talk to my teenager. He thinks every time I ask him to mow the lawn or rake the leaves I'm delving out some medieval form of punishment. OK that I do enjoy.

I can't come down on him too hard. He is taking very good care of me in my husbands absence. I am blessed with a child who does good in school, hangs around the kind of kids I won't mind him bringing to the house and is extremely good at keeping up his chores. He jumps on the dishes after dinner, takes out the garbage and will straighten up the playroom/living room when he's had enough of the princess wands and dolls lying around. With the exception of anything that requires a distance of more then 10' feet and 20 minutes away from his World of Warcraft game, he gives me very little grief. I just have to suit up before I ask him to go outside.

I am trying to be the kind of Mom the kids like. I am striving to set aside my Marine Corps training and treat them like the tiny humans they are. I find that when I bark orders and I get blank looks plastered across their faces. Is it confusion? Is it fear? Are they trying to see how long they can stand there before I start going "Drill Instructor" on them?

I try to reason with them. "Ladies, let's get ready for dinner". I say this with a June Cleaver kinda voice, smile on my face, all I am missing is the pearls. They stand there, still, frozen in time. Or they turn and bolt. That's my favorite thing they do, turn and run. If you ever want to see what loud looks like up close and personal, turn and run from me. My hands flail in the air, nostrils wide open, and my mouth is at full speed and volume is pumped up. This is what the "Drill Instructor" looks like. All the while, the little people are running and laughing and dodging me. Oh yeah, they are having a good time.

Joey comes home Saturday. He has been in training for 40 days. My Mom is being discharged from the hospital where she had hip replacement surgery. I have agreed to pick her up. My Pampered Chef consultant buddy is scheduled to come over that morning as well, so we can practice doing a party as consultants. My daughters are having a friend spend the night. The friend is five. I've asked her parents to stay for dinner. In addition, my cousin is coming over for a play date with her little boy who is almost two. All on Valentine's Day Weekend!

I'm not sure if I've inflicted physical pain or mental pain upon myself. Whatever it is, I'm enjoying it. Maybe sadomasochism isn't all bad. As long as you enjoy the company of friends and family. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Patience - A virtue to learn

It is said that patience is a virtue. As true as that is for most folks, that is not the case with me. Patience is something my husband tells me to ask God for. Well, it must be on back order because I have yet to receive it. I am quick tempered with a short fuse. I blurt before I think. I issue knee jerk reactions before considering the ramifications. I am very skilled at apologies. It has become an art form. However, when it comes to children, a million apologies can not undo one harsh word. Something I am learning to get a grip on. Again my mouth can runneth over.

My father would tell people that he gave the USMC his only baby girl and they returned a trained killer. Tattoo and all. When at USMC bootcamp, they drilled in my head to respond to commands without thinking. I was to jump without asking how high. Because I was so highly trained the height of the jump is a given, I should know how high. SO JUST JUMP MARINE! My children are not Marines. They want to know not only the height of the jump but why they have to jump. They want to know how to jump and what they will be doing once they jump. Where do all these questions come from? Holy cow. Don't they get that by the time they get done asking all these questions, they could have been finished with the jump and on their way to other things? Jimminey Christmas people.

Joe has only been gone for a month so far. I look forward to his return from training. He gets some time at home before the jumps the puddle to Afghanistan. This time away from him has been long enough to get a taste of what deployment will be like. I can tell you, I am not a fan of being away from the father of my children. He is my buffer. He is nurturing and offers compassion. He kisses the owies and mends hurt feelings. He can endure the whining children do when they feel bad and/or need that extra bit of comfort. We are two completely different kinds of parents.

If they are not bleeding or projectile vomiting with a fever, they go to school. They fall down, I expect them to get up and walk it off. They run into a wall or bump into a door, if there's no blood, I pat them on the head and tell them to shake it off. I don't settle skirmishes, I send people to their rooms until they calm down. Like Bill Cosby would say, I do not want justice, I want quiet.

I noticed last night, I had resorted to yelling at the little people, instead of speaking to them in a conversational tone. I know I don't have to yell. They hear just fine. However, the moment we walk in the door, the demands begin. I want juice. What's for dinner? I hafta go potty. I haven't even put my purse down yet. While trying to prepare dinner, Jordan forgets to go pee and puddles on the floor. When my husband is home, he can offer a diversion so I can change and breathe. He is very adept to tending to these demands and enjoys doing it. He is not here. I have to learn to balance my full time job, all three children, the bills, the groceries, and the ache I feel when he's away.

Disconnected

Today's military has improved family support and has made leaps and bounds to be family friendly. Finally, the Armed Forces has realized there is more to a soldier then camouflage and weapons. There are people at home relying on the soldier. They understand, at long last, that a well supported soldiers family makes for a happier soldier. It used to be that the families were torn apart by deployment. When the military member left on deployment, they would hear nothing for months and months. Then either a letter directly from the soldier arrived in the mail, months after it was written, or a car pulled up in front of the house with a star on it and a General in it with bad news. The latter is the last kind of visit the family wants. I imagine every unexpected knock at the door was met with grief and dismay.

With technology today, keeping in touch is easier. Although it still has its challenges, contact is easier. Texting, cell phones, social sites that can be updated via text from the cell phone. Letters are a lost art. Still, nothing beats getting something in the mail that doesn't include a demand letter from some scum, bill collecting attorney. Forgive me as I digress.

Back to my point. My husband is on loan to the 690th MP Company out of Crystal River. However, he is home based here in Jacksonville. That means he is on temporary orders to Crystal River, which means WE are on orders to Crystal River. Here is my delima. I know the ropes here. I have a couple of numbers on speed dial if I need them. I can go to a number of bases here, if I need to. I know where to go and who to see. Crystal River is a different story. The wives attached to the 690th out of Crystal River have their speed dials, their contacts, their bases and support groups, in Crystal River. Where does that leave me? Sure I have access to the medical facilities and legal offices. But not the people.

I like people. I hate the home phone. It is a hateful contraption. A huge time waster. I definately prefer people. You can get answers from the right people. Automated phone trees have no answers. As I prepare for the upcoming deployment, I have become painfully aware of just out of place I feel. I am used to being in control of things. I control my kids, my laundry, the groceries and our money. I keep trying to control my husband but continually fail. One day I'll learn. I can't control the Army. No use even trying. So here I am in Jacksonville, Fla and all the other wives that I am supposed to band together with are in Crystal River, near Tampa. They will have their get togethers, they have their babysitting networks, they will have their girls night out, without me. I like socializing with people in the same position I am in. They understand.

I have one friend whose husband is the spouse that is left behind when she deploys. So my deployment social network has one member. I have another friend whose husband was deployed and she went with him. Four years in Hawaii. Not sure how objective that support group can be.

I feel disconnected from the other wives in my husbands unit. That is a hurdle I will not be able to over come. They all live so far away. However, I do have my own little support group here, my little social network of one. So, while I try to get a grip on how I can connect with families like mine, I will rely on my extended friends who have become my family. In an effort to not wear them out, I started this blog. I can clear the que in my head, update friends and family, and stay in touch with my husband with the touch of one button.

Modern technology rocks.

Visiting Daddy

REJOICE ... we were able to score a visit and deliver cookies. I bake to alleviate stress. Today marks the one month mark he has been in training. We have a week to go and I am ready for him to come home. Being a single parent stinks. God Bless those who do it full time..all the time.

I think it's better then best that he is training local. My hubby is on loan to the unit from Tampa. Just so happens his home base is the Army training post here at home. So, what's the big deal? All the other soldiers in my husbands unit have their families scattered throughout Florida and must wait the whole 40 days to see their families. When the accident happened and now while he recovers, I get to go see him on post. It takes me no time to get there. Even if the visit is short, it's worth the trip.

He did have to go back to medical on Saturday. Turns out his wrist is fractured. He has been having migrains. I hope the migrains are temporary. Those things are awful to have.

The girls got to see their Daddy "at the Army" finally. Curiosity has been eating these two little sponges alive. Where is Daddy? Why can't he come home? Where is he? So when I got the opportunity to take them out there, I took advantage of it. We get there, it's after dark. We arrive on post, drive to his barracks and they leap from their car seats and out of the truck when they realize Daddy was walking our way. He has this unmistakable swagger you can see in the dark. It was a great visit. The girls got to see where Daddy sleeps, they got to see the bathrooms (I took them in the girls of course), they visited the chow hall. He took us on a short walk around the immediate area surrounding the barracks. Both girls were elated to see their Daddy. The couple times he's been home, the visits have been short, teasers really, as was this visit. We were able to visit long enough for the girls to see Daddy, where he was and where he slept.

Loading them in the truck to leave did not go smoothly. All would have been fine had Jenna not started to cry. When she started to quiver the lip and whimper, then Jordan joined in. Before I knew it I had a sad little symphony in the back seat. Misery loves company, don't you know. It was a sad, sad drive home.

As I got everyone home and tucked into bed, I couldn't help to feel sorry for these two small emotional beings. Jenna has her Pooh bear and Jordan has a whole herd of My Little Ponies that provide comfort for them. Will these "lovies", as my great grandmother used to call such things, be enough to sustain them through a whole year of deployment? What will I do if they aren't? I can't bake my way through the stress. He won't recognize us when he gets back!

Yes....those are Spiderman sheets

This is Jenna "at the Army". She HAD to see what it felt like. She is so cute.

Accident Update

Just a quick note, everyone is out of the hospital and is fine. CELEBRATE!!! Overall, the injuries were minor. Most everyone is banged up pretty bad. One soldier has a broken collar bone and another had a suspected spinal injury, but has been discharged and is up and walking around. Several others have sprained ankels, wrists, the list goes on. Crutches and arm slings abound. All are continuing medical treatment but are fine.

God is good.

Joey

Military Danger

I love being a military wife. The Army has provided a little extra money this past year with Joe being unemployed. Granted, National Guardsmen do not make enough for their one weekend a month, two weekends a year, to put a dent in any serious bills, but these folks do not do it for the money. They do it for their personal beliefs and love of country.

When I loaned my husband to the Army I had one stipulation. They are to return him in the same condition in which I loaned him out. The Army has let me down.

I never really worried about his safety, until the bus my husband's unit was on flipped in transit from training. My boss is the one that actually saw the news broadcast and called me in to confirm if they were referring to my husbands unit. (Click here for the story) All of a sudden the danger associated with being active duty hit me square in the heart. Now I have all these thoughts going through my head.

NOTE: This is where Jenna gets the Drama Queen from.

After the initial accident, I could not get ANYONE on the phone. The one person on the base that did answer the phone told me, of the soldiers that were transported to Shands Gainesville, where traumas were sent, my husband was not one of them. Sigh of relief. He's not seriously hurt. However, I still had no location on my husband. Then my thoughts turned to where he was. I switched from worried wife to Personnel Locator Extraordinaire. In this department, I'm borderline stalker.

Sidebar notation. I love the internet and it's immediate availability of information. I received every single bit of information I needed to locate my husband from the news media. Those glorious little nuggets of nosey fact finders have just earned a special place in my heart. I love breaking news alerts.

I phoned several hospitals, excluding Shands Gainesville. After all, I was told he was not there. I called all the numbers I had for his soldier buddies. As if they weren't doing anything else but waiting on my call. Then the little voice in my head said...."Call Gainesville". After ignoring that voice for a while and resolving it would not go away. I called. BINGO....I located my husband. He was in Gainesville, in the trauma unit. Super Powers activate.

I had the girls picked up from day care, babysitter arranged, dinner covered and was at the hospital at the speed of light. That reminds me, I need to wash my cape. Anyway, my arrival at the hospital was a relief. I knew where he was, just not how he was. As long as I knew his longitude and latitude I felt better.

His injuries were serious. His weapon banged him in the head hard enough to render him unconscious. His right side took a hard hit. He has badly bruised ribs and various pains. So they kept him over night for observation. Of course thoughts of the several celebrities that have passed away crept into my brain. After getting his blood sugars back to normal and an MRI, he was released the next day. Only one soldier is left in the hospital, out of the 25+ that were transported to the various medical facilities. I pray he will be 100% when he gets out.

We haven't completed training yet. One week to go. The entire group is on light duty but is expected to complete training on schedule. I didn't tell the girls that Daddy was hurt and I don't intend to. They have come to terms with his absence and being "at the Army". I do not want them associating military with injury. After everything, taking off my locator hat, my jaunt back from Gainesville, his discharge from the hospital, and his return to the base, where he was safe and sound, I cried. I cried because I was relieved the injuries sustained by my husband and the other soldiers were not life threatening. I cried because there was still a soldier in the hospital. I cried because had this been fatal, how would I handle this? What would I tell the children? I've not made any accommodations for a military related death.

Now I cry because we are only through the training and the jump over the pond is coming up. He is going to be in a foreign land, with foreign people, doing foreign things. I am scared. I met my husband later in life and have two beautiful girls by him. I am not ready for this part of my life to be over so soon. The girls have only been on Earth long enough to know him, but not understand how wonderful a husband, father, and soldier he really is.

Worth Fighting For

Kids and Cursing

OK funny story. This happened a few months ago, but the ramifications of it resurfaced this morning on the way to daycare.

We all have these moments of "OOPS". Some of mine are harmless, others are not. Most of mine involve my mouth. Those of you who know me, well or at all, have probably been subject to my mouth at one point to another. Some things that escape the safety of my lips sting, other things cause eye rolling from the intended recipient, other stuff reminds me I live with tiny sponges and I need to watch it.

The good thing about the relationship between me and my mouth is that I understand it. I have no problem apologizing for stuff I say. I can't help that I blurt. My husband tells me I am missing the filter between my brain and my tongue. Most people have one...it sits on the brain stem and is very predominate. Not me. I have come to terms that I was born with this birth defect and move on. Thank God I have found the only man on Earth blessed with the patience to handle me. Remind me to tell you the story about a cell phone that kept going off in a movie we went to. God made a very smart move when he blessed me with a generous, very patient and very large husband.

I talk to traffic. It is a well documented fact that everyone I share the road with needs remedial driving lessons. They drive me nuts. There is a list of driving behaviors I have had to curb since the girls came along. The list includes, but is not limited to: No longer can I wave Hello with the international sign of peace involving my middle finger. Sticking my tongue out is not acceptable. Shouting at the car in front of me to go faster sets a bad example of how to get along in the world. Pounding on the steering wheel teaches aggression.

Here's my OOPS Moment. We were in the family room watching TV. Joe sometimes forgets he's an adult and he will pick at the kids. This particular day, Jenna was sitting on the couch next to him. They were snuggling, having Daddy Daughter time. Well, I guess he got bored with TV and begin poking Jenna in the side and/or in the arm. Repeatedly. Each time she would say "Stop Daddy", "Daddy, quit", etc. After about ten minutes of warnings, she looked at him square in the eye, pursed her lips and said "Daddy you are p_____ing me off". That split second I didn't know how to feel. Was I embarrassed? I knew she had learned that from me. Was I horrified? How could my little angel use such language? Was I proud? I mean after all, she used the word correctly and executed it with military precision.

I went with embarrassed, horrified and added disappointment in myself. I know she got this word from my driving. (If the other drivers would just take those remedial classes my life would be so much easier). If she can use this language at home....she will use it in front of others. This is where the horrified came into play. She used this word in front of my mother.

We were in the car, of course, and I was telling my mother about someone or something I had issues with. I can not go into details of that, because quite frankly, there are so many issues I have, it would be hard to choose. Anywho, I was talking, just rambling to Mom, in the car, and I paused to breathe. From the back seat Jenna interjects "Because it p___ed you off?"

This morning, after I dropped Justin off at High School, this car sped up and cut me off. Well, my lack of filter kicked in. Jenna repeats what I said. "He's a jacka___?"

That did it. I'm hiring a driver and buying duct tape, for myself, in bulk. I'm getting better. We point out to Jenna when she uses Mommy words, they they are wrong and why, but we do not make a big deal out of it. I don't want to teach her those words will generate attention. She is our resident Drama Queen. I know I'm supposed to lead by example and I am trying. The last thing I need is her talking like a Merchant Marine. She's only Four!

Kudos to my MIL and Friends

MIL is not short for Military! It's texting slang for Mother in Law. I am fortunate to have two beautiful ladies in my life. Hold your mother in law jokes, I do not find them funny. Well, most of them anyway!

This past year has been crazy. We have been through periods of feast and famine. I thank God that our family has the support system it does. Not only are we blessed with ample MIL's, we have friends and extended family that have come to our aid on more then one occasion. I have never been the strong religious type. I do believe in God. My belief has been strengthened since I've met and married my husband. He is strong, beautiful, courageous and comes from a generous and loving family.

Joe's Mom, Camp Grammy as we affectionately call her, will have Jenna over for the weekend. Jenna especially loves it when her Auntie comes to town and she can spend the weekend with Grammy, Auntie and her cousins. As soon as Jordan crosses the finish line of potty training, she will be able to go. It is a huge sigh of relief to have one of the two race cars out of the house. I believe you can throw money at a situation all day, but time is priceless. It is an infinite resource and worth much more then its weight in gold.

There have been times when I am standing in front of the freezer, hoping something will materialize for dinner. Our deposit does not hit for another few days and we can not stand another night of pancakes and eggs. Then the phone rings. I have a friend on the way over with two bags of leg quarters because they were on sale, and she thought of me. This is in addition to the pork her husband smoked over the weekend that she is sharing with us. This same friend, just last night, brought me 25pounds of flour. It was surplus from Christmas baking and they only used 5 cups from this huge bag. When in we are in need, we receive blessings from the most unexpected places. I have never been happier over a bag of flour.

Last week, some new friends of ours, invited the kids and I to dinner. I was having a particularly crazy day. The girls were up at an ungodly hour and have run me all day long. No naps, if you have been reading my blogs, you get the picture. As the phone was ringing, I was trying to set it ablaze with my stares. I hate the telephone. It is an awful contraption. I did not want to talk to another bill collector on top of everything else. But it was a dinner invitation. YAY!!! I love dinner invites. LOVE THEM. I get to spend a very needed night away from the house, with friends, whom I miss, girls get a play date and they can concentrate on someone else for a change, and there's food. I love food I don't have to prepare..don't you?

Thoughtful blessings from friends and gifts of time from family are immeasurable. I will never be able to repay what we have received. I wouldn't know how to begin to show the gratitude I feel. But I can bake. So, now that I am outfitted with flour, the girls and I will be spending this weekend knee deep in butter and sugar. We have thank yous to get out. The biggest decision is what to make.

Paperwork Paperwork...deliver me from thee

So here we are on the cusp of mortgage loan modification.

When Joe lost his job at Merrill Lynch in January 2009, we took a huge financial hit. He held a position as an analyst for seven years. We both had steady income, paid our bills, went places and did things. We were on the corporate ladder with nothing but the beautiful sky above us. Then the clouds rolled in and rained all over our parade. I was on the phone, within the hour of Joey losing his job, with our mortgage company. That's what you are supposed to do....right? No good. A complete exercise in futility. We were not delinquent on our loan so they saw no immediate need. I phoned and phoned and phoned and phoned doing what I could to divert the imminent crisis. As expected, the day came where we had to choose between lights, groceries on the table, and paying the mortgage. Lights and food win every month.

We had purchased our first home, just minutes, NO JOKE...MINUTES, before the economy tanked. We had just celebrated the first year in our home. Then property values plummeted, unemployment was rising, and we became a statistic. I thought owning a home was fun and I would be spending my first year or so buying new furniture, painting and erasing any signs of the previous owners. Instead, I am busy trying to keep our home. If you want to make God laugh..tell him your plans. (quote from a country song, can't remember which one)

We are buried in paperwork. How many times do they need to know our current financial picture? Like every other swimmer in the statistic pool, nothing much has changed. Like most households (I assume), I, the wife, manage our money. I'm used to Joey being here to bounce things off of him and having him available when I need him. Not the case when he is sequestered in training for deployment. This is on the very long list of things I've had to learn to handle by myself. I do not like managing money.

I have yet another set of financial paperwork to fill out and submit. They want it faxed and mailed. Are they trying to catch me in a lie? You know.....when you have a suspect in custody, you ask them the same question, over and over, just reword it each time, to see if they slip up. Yeah, I am familiar with it, I have kids. Being a former USMC MP has prepared me for motherhood, minus the side arm.

Now we have received a demand package from an attorney. Apparently this is the first step in foreclosure. We love this house, the neighborhood and my teen-ager finally has friends. I called the attorney and the worker on the other end did acknowledge the foreclosure is on hold. I guess that could be the silver lining. Another silver lining..as long as he is deployed and on an active status, we can not be evicted. The sailors and servicemans act. Get to know it.

I fill out another set of documents and fax, snail mail, and carrier pigeon over more data. However, this time our financial picture has improved. Maybe this is what they are hoping for. Maybe, this is the submission that will land us that modification package to sign. I feel giddy just thinking about it. Then I go to the mail box, and there's an envelope from Wells Fargo. I am excited with anticipation. I open the envelope and my hearts falls to the pavement in front of the mailbox. It's paperwork, but not the kind I want. They want more data.

As I navigate the waters of the loan modification ocean, I am doing what I can to keep my family afloat. I refuse to let us drown. I will prevail. The economy may take victims, but not us. We will win this one....I have faith.