tea parties

The few.  The proud.  The Marines.  Well, the former Marines in this case (be sure not to say "ex" Marine to one--you will be swiftly corrected).  I have three of them in my immediate family so I know the personality well.  They're gritty and tough.  They curse easily and often.  They don't hesitate or panic in an emergency situation.  In fact, they just never hesitate or panic for any reason.  They are organized, together, some might even think OCD, but it's just the training--the behavior is all learned, not born into them (though I do think only certain type people join 'The Corps' in the first place).

These men, tough as the nails they've swallowed, grittier than the sandpaper they've wiped their bums with, seem to lose all of their Marine Corps teaching when they enter my home.  What, for instance, would the d.i.'s at Parris Island say if they were to see this:

 Yessir, Gary has been at the mercy of those Parris Island di's.  The yellow thing he's holding in his hand is a tiny teacup (tiny in comparison to his catcher's mitt hand)  Really, Gare?  What if I were to send this to them right now?  No?  Well how about this:

Not just one "former" Marine here in the pink, purple and mint green room having a tea party at a Tinkerbell table, but two.  Well, okay, one is sitting on the fairy bed, the other is at the Tink table.  Tough?  Gritty?  Really?  I can only wonder how many rounds were fired into enemy territory between the three of these fellas (We've got Vietnam, Desert Storm, aw, who the hell knows where else). These tough, gritty Marines. 

I certainly hope the enemies of the US never see this blog and see where the weakness lies in our soldiers.  They won't bend for guns, land mines, grenades, torture.  This is what it takes, right here.

A persistant (they never immediately agree to enter the tea party room) seven year old girl who will serve them plastic food on tiny dishes.  I hope the enemy never finds out!