The Navy is testing new service dress khakis, reminiscent of World War II uniforms.  Elysia now has about $4,500 worth of polyester, and apparently more to come.

On the car ride home today, Citrus announced that she was going ”get a pink uniform, with stars and stripes and ribbons, so that I can go to work.”

I think she was referring to this prototype for our Lady Sailors.

Elysia says that the khakis sometimes make her look like a brown paper bag.  Perhaps she would prefer to be sherbet?

After her friend, Alexandra, grunted at her, Citrus reports

And I said to her, ‘Whatever’.

Here was Flat Mommy in the shower.

It just wasn’t the same.

On our way to the Virginia Beach Viva Elvis festival on Saturday it rained heavily, but around 4pm . . . a miracle.  The clouds opened up and the Skydiving Kings fell from the sky. 

Here is Elysia posing for an “I Want You . . . to be the King” poster.  Sadly it won’t wind up at the Washington Navy Yard, where several years ago the Navy-Marine Corps Appellate Defense Division had an Elvis shrine and the JAG officers traded around a blue suede shoes doormat to those who prevailed in court.  (It was good to be the King.)

After hanging out near a giant Elvis possibly related to the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man and listening to one tribute artist — one was enough for us — we headed to Beale Street BBQ for the tasty goodness of deep fried pickles.

Today was the first day that Citrus was able to make a tube with her tongue, something that she has only dreamed of being able to do like her mom and dad. 

It was easier once we removed the piercing we gave her as an infant — and like we predicted, she did not remember the pain involved at the time.

Also in the area of firsts, she has successfully moved to panties (”big girl underwear”) but for the most part we have not photo-documented the transition.  Your lucky day.

However, she does appear to be a little confused with the concept.  Here she is just sitting unposed on the couch, a toddler panty model in the making as soon as I grabbed the camera.  Thoughtful.  Poised.  Playful.  The red velvet series.  Or, perhaps in the spirit of what’s on her head:  The Red Velvet Elmo Series.

Hopefully she won’t wind up in a Chief Judge’s folders.

We have hit the jackpot!  The same weekend we are going to Virginia Beach is the annual Viva Elvis spectacular.  Somehow we managed to miss it in the two years we lived there.

There will be an “Are You Smarter than an Elvis?” contest as well as a crowd favorite, the Skydiving Kings.  It being a major military town, they will of course descend from the sky carrying a giant American flag.  When Elysia was in Bahrain she participated in a hospital bed race charity event with other Navy and Marine officers on a Formula One racetrack.  If we could fit furniture in our car, I think she’d have the winning edge in the Elvis recliner race.

Eat our wake, Ypsilanti — this is the 14th year.

 
Years ago David Sedaris wrote that there is nothing more sad than seeing a man standing on a street corner dressed as a taco.  And now, someone has decided that we can do better.

The new National Museum of Crime & Punishment opened a few days ago just around the corner from my job.  The museum staff have to wear bright orange prison jumpsuits.  I was on my way to CVS during lunch and there was someone from Abu Ghraib come to life, just crossing the street.  It is nearly summer so I guess the hood was optional.

I suppose it was only time before a prison economy had its own gift shop and I couldn’t resist going in. Sadly, the “Cop Shop” had a mundane assortment of mousepads, shot glasses, prison art, episodes of COPS, books by John Walsh. No Taser keychains, no Nixon placemats.

It is bizarre that despite being halfway between the White House and the Capitol, the website seems to avoid mentioning political crimes or scandals.  Think Dillinger’s getaway car, a signed clown photo of John Wayne Gacy, but not Senator Larry Craig’s restroom stall.  You still have to go to Minnesota for that. 

Note to self: Email the museum and recommend that staff ought to do Thriller performances to draw in a lunchtime crowd or add something special to a private party.  After all, the Geneva Conventions don’t apply!

I had to check their book selection because I had a college professor who told me to read Discipline and Punish.  He also suggested smoking a joint first to enjoy it more, and that I could write anything about the book because no one really knew what it said.  But no Foucault, no fake drug souvenirs for my desk, and no Dostoyevsky either.  However, the museum does include white collar crime:  Is it me or does the sign outside look very similar to this? 

Something tells me there is not much of a defense section alongside the CSI exhibits. It is interesting that they bother to include criminal investigations at all.  That is so old school! They could have just skipped to the punishment.  

At the museum you can see a gas chamber and electric chair for $18 and the kids get in free!

For now the only place in town you can see orange jumpsuits and waterboarding demonstrations is in front of the White House.  It’s kind of like a Washington DC version of Sea World. And like the Smithsonian, the anti-Bush demonstrators do not charge admission!

Citrus has been singing Anchors Aweigh for a while now, but there’s a little girl out there who really does a command performance on YouTube (in the category of Toddler Singing).  You will either think it is funny or cruel.

Watch out Shaughn, Citrus is gaining on you!

Translation for those not in toddler land:

Anchors Aweigh, my boys
Anchors Aweigh
Farewell to college joys
We sail at break of day, day, day, day
Through our last night ashore
Drink to the foam
Until we meet once more
Here’s wishing you a happy voyage home!
(Go Navy! Beat Army!)

We went to the National Zoo on Mother’s Day with three other families from our classroom at the base Child Development Center.  Pictures are here for friends and family — all others can skip unless you want to look at The Most Adorable Children on the Planet.

Oh, and one picture of a panda and another of an exhibit of his poo, which I only note because they have to keep it chained down so no one takes it. Now that Citrus is potty-trained, let’s hope she doesn’t want her own display.

Three of the kids, including Citrus, are the same age and are Eurasian with mothers who are Asian-American officers.  What are the odds? 

Only about 15-20 percent of all servicemembers are women — 201,575 in 2006.  Of those, about one third are officers.  And only about 2.3-4.7 percent of Air Force and Navy officers are of Asian descent. 

Now playing a little loose with the numbers because the real ones are hard to come by, if we assume that the number of Asian female officers mirrors the percentage of all female officers
. . . my guess is that 3.3 percent of Navy/Air Force officers are Asian-American women.  And 3 of the 685 were at the zoo. 

All of this means one thing:  I should have gone to bed rather than be doing these sort of calculations.  Still, Elysia and I thought it was kind of interesting.

A few weeks ago Citrus got a pink poodle balloon at the Blessing of the Fleets ceremony. In his short life, he met SEALs and Seabees and sat in an armored Humvee. Now here he is deflated, the life drained out of him, but still very much loved.

He meets his fate tonight.