WANNA PEEK INSIDE MY INBOX?

Below, I linked to my article on NRO titled "Playing the Deployment Card" and I thought you might like to get a glimpse of what it's like to open your e-mail after such a piece.

Some notes are kind, uplifting, and brief:

Hello,

I liked your cute article in NRO. It's good to hear that strangers still help damsels in distress.

and

Nancy,

I am writing you to thank you for your family’s sacrifice on behalf of our country. Your article brought a tear to my eye. I pray our men and women in the military come home safe to a world without war.

God bless you and your family!

and

I’ll be darned if my lips didn’t quiver when I got to the America the Beautiful verse. Thank you for writing this. I’ve forwarded it to my wife, my parents, and my son—who is in the USMC ROTC program.

May God bless you, your children, and your husband.

Others are a bit more critical:

Does it not bother you that your husband's life has been put at risk for a war that the entire planet opposes, including the majority of Americans? Even the countries that have sent troops to Iraq did so in the teeth of massive and ongoing hostility from public opinion and leaders like Aznar and Blair saw their political careers ended for having done so. Gordon Brown, in his turn, has just suffered a massive electoral defeat because he did not do what the British poeple want him to do, namely pull the troops from Iraq and Afghanistan. The Iraqi government has repeatedly asked the US to leave and polls show that the overwhelming majority of Iraqis support that view. Two Popes have condemned the war and under the principles set out by Pope Benedict at the UN, the war is contrary to Catholic morality.

What is the sense of wasting human life in a war that nobody wants and that is unwinnable? Wouldn't your husband's admirable desire to serve his country be better put to use back home, where he wouldn't risk being killed?

And some are headscratchers:

i'm actually embarrased by you... your husband isn't fighting for your freedom to be a wimp...
well... let me rephrase that...
he is fighting for your freedom to be anything you want... but your choice to be a quivering mess... only leads your children down a sorry path...

instead you should be showing them how to be proud of your husband... their father... for trusting the three of you to be able to carry on in the midst of a relatively short absence... barring his death at the hands of our mortal enemies abroad...

PLAYING THE DEPLOYMENT CARD

I have a new article for this weekend's National Review Online, called "Playing the Deployment Card."

Dusk had turned to dark, and the campground signs faded into the forest. After eking along for an hour, leaning forward to make out the signs through the windshield, I sadly realized I had to set up my first pop-up camper in the dark. Alone.

“Sir,” I rolled down my window. “Where’s Campground B?”

“First, you’re in Campground A. Second, you’re driving the wrong way down a one-way road.” The man stood in front of grill sizzling hamburgers. Tow-headed boys popped out of the camper before their mother told them to wash their hands.

“All you have to do is back up right there and you’ll be headed in the right direction.” I bit my lip as envy arose in my heart toward the man, his burgers, and the picturesque image of his Winnebago-owning family.

“You don’t know how to reverse, do you?” he asked in more of a lament than a question as he noticed my kids in the back seat. Not only had I never put up a camper, I’d never pulled anything behind a vehicle in my life.

“Sir,” I began, “My husband’s in Iraq, and you’re right — there’s absolutely no way I can back this thing up.” I took a deep breath. “But if you support the troops, you’ll jump in this minivan and back it up for me.”

Which, amazingly, is exactly what he did.

My husband’s departure in October 2007 had the same effect on me as the radioactive spider bite had on Peter Parker. Although I can’t scale walls or spin webs, I do have a unique supernatural ability: I can make friends, family, and even total strangers bend to my will.

Read the rest here.

SURVIVOR MICRONESIA

So, I'm sitting here watching Survivor, as I have done every week for every season since naked Richard Hatch won by using a -- shock! -- alliance back in 2000.

Every season, every year, I get misty eyed on "family night" -- the evening Jeff Probst uses family members of the tribesmen as a "reward" for a challenge. When the family members show up on the island, everyone runs and hugs and weeps hot tears.

At least, I used to always get misty eyed. However, I have to admit, David's year long deployment in Iraq makes a thirty day island adventure without your family look a little less emotionally treacherous.

(No, I'm not going to stop watching it, because then the terrorists would've won. )

No Intelligence Allowed

Last night, I organized a group of friends to go see "Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed" which was playing outside of Nashville. Knowing that "organization" is Kryptonite to me, I took pains to handle things carefully. I got reservations at P.F. Chang's, asked the church if we could borrow the van, asked a deacon to come with us so he could drive (Paul, I would've asked you anyway, of course!), and asked people to meet the van at an on-the-way McDonald's.

Six people were coming from our neighborhood -- so we were to ride to the McDonald's rendezvous together. Three of these people were new to the Zion community, and I'd looked forward to introducing them to other interesting people in our town.

When we stopped by their house, I jumped out of the van to knock on the door. Immediately, their sweet kids run out to meet me, followed by the mother-in-law who was babysitting them for the evening.

"Hello, I'm Nancy," I said.

"I'm Nancy."

"Really? I didn't realize that," I said. "We're swinging by here, but we’re meeting the others at McDonald's."

"Oh? That's nice."

We stand. Hug kids. Smile. Stand. But my friends didn't come out.

"Why don't you come in?" the other Nancy offered. She was being polite, but we declined.

"Well, we really don't have much time... We'll just wait here."

So we waited, and waited. We smiled some more.

"Where are you from?"

"How long are you staying?"

“How long have you been in the neighborhood?”

We exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes, before the other Nancy asked us once again to sit down.

We relented, and sat in the living room to exchange more pleasantries. The dog, in the meantime, had jumped up on the table and eaten the dinner the kids’ had abandoned to come meet and greet us.

“We interrupted dinner?” I asked, horrified. The kind, polite other Nancy waved it off, as if it were no big deal. That’s the way women from Texas are – gracious and kind. However, women from Tennessee are also aghast at the imposition, and we all began to wonder what was taking our friends so long.

“Well, we’re going to see a movie tonight,” I said, trying to fill in more time. “Going to see ‘Expelled.’”

“Expelled?” she asked. “That’s what Mike and Kittye went to see.”

“Went?”

“Yes,” she said. “They left a while ago.”

“They’re not in this house?”

“They went to a movie.”

She probably assumed we'd stopped by inexplicably during dinner for a visit. I apologized profusely, and we scampered off to McDonald’s where they had been waiting for half an hour with our other friends. They are new to the neighborhood and didn’t read the community bylaws which state you cannot have a front-facing garage and you must carpool when heading to the same destination.

That’s the way we do things here.

Anyway, this misunderstand confirmed what anyone who's read my book knows. My life is a sitcom.

Alas, the movie was interesting and we had a nice evening anyway. Here's the trailer:

BYE BYE BUMPER STICKER

Thought you might like to see the Top Ten Reasons Gov. Romney dropped out of the race. After seeing it, I think I'm finally ready to take off the Mitt Romney bumper sticker today. (Not the Mitt '08 one, which is still in good shape, but the longer rectangular one that's partially already off. I'm not totally ready to let it go!)

IN HONOR OF BARACK

When Obama said, "So people end up, you know, voting on issues like guns, and are they going to have the right to bear arms," it got me thinking.

A few weeks ago, I joined the NRA for the first time since I was covered by my dad's membership when I was a kid.

Perhaps this would be a good time to join -- in honor of Barack Obama's comments about the embittered, religious gun owners?

Or you could join to honor the memory of Charlton Heston.

For fun, I am posting some pics of EFM gun enthusiasts. (I'm surprised people didn't listen to us better.) Here is Charles with his AK-47, me with a rifle, and David inexplicably holding his M4 by the magazine (He says, "Here’s a hint for you aspiring Soldiers—you cannot fire a weapon by gripping he magazine.")

Anyway, I thought it might be fun to click here to join the NRA -- do it for Barack!

AMERICAN IDOL STILL LOVES JESUS