"Daddy, Did you Play with the Seals Today and WHY are you dressed like RAMBO?", Bitsy~Hillary & the Navy Jimmy Choo's.

Just like alot of you, The last few days I've watched as the news unfolded.  I've mulled it over and over and over.  Hours upon end, somewhere in the back of my mind, I have wondered just how our soldiers "got" Bin Laden.  I've thought about what type of people they are and who comprised this Seal Team Six.  I don't know about you, but I have been "safe harbor" for a life long fascination with spies, covert missions, special ops, undercover missions, stealth operations and well anything that may fall in the "cloak and dagger" category.  Tale note, the typical "Sherlock Holmes" type of mystery doesn't seem to hold my attention but give me a 007 or a Bourne Identity type of drama with some red carpet activity and and maybe a little bit of "Rambo" . . . . you'll find me ass to elbows in my version of a bucket full of heaven.

I've even gone so far as imagining myself in a beautiful navy blue suit and a simple but fitting pair of Jimmy Choo peep toes, sitting in the "Situation Room" kind of like Hillary, with my hand over my mouth gasping, feeling some emotion that I can't even begin to describe.  I just can't seem to grasp how a person would feel while quietly witnessing such a series of "horrific events" as they unfolded.  We, as American citizens, just aren't wired to witness "murder" or assassination or whatever this is called first hand.  We can hear about it, but seeing it, that's somehow a different story.  We have been raised by parents who were ever mindful of the Ten Commandments.  The "Thou Shalt Not Kill" one . . . . it's a biggie.  As fascinated as I am with the whole kick butt operation, I've struggled.  I've struggled with the feeling that this man that was removed off the face of this Earth by our military forces with no ability to fight back is just OK.  That this man that was pushed gently into the Sea where his carcass is hopefully being nibbled on by an entire population of bottom feeders is just OK.  I may even go further, THAT all of this is an amazingly self satisfying wonderful thing.  I feel guilty feeling that it's OK to believe he relinquished any right to life that HE had when he made the decision to take that right away from every single victim of September 11th.  That HE made that decision when he took brothers, sisters, parents, and friends away from those that loved them.  My heart tells me it's wrong, but my brain tells me I'm glad we got him.  I'm glad he can do no more harm and in my belief, he will have to face an after life in which he walks with his head hanging, where he has no followers, no pride, no family or friends.  Again, I don't want to feel this way, but I do and I'm struggling.  I cannot imagine what our leaders, those elected and appointed officials, who ultimately made this decision are feeling, but I do know that it can't be good.  It can't be easy.  It can't be comforting.   I guess that's why we pay them the "big bucks".   They have good insurance and should be able to afford a few Ambien or Lunesta.  Really they should.  All kidding aside, very tough decision.  I have to believe that what they felt was a sense of obligation, a sense of responsibility to each one of us.  The closest thing I can think of is how this Bitsy would feel if I had to make a decision that would serve to protect the Webbman.  I can't help but think~this decision DID affect Webb.  It did affect the Lil Momma and Precious.  Tough tough decision.  A decision this Bitsy is visibly not cut out to make.

From a completely different perspective, I've tried to imagine just what it would be like to be one of those 22 Seals who took Bin Laden's compound by storm.  One of those who swept in in the dark of the night moving stealthily in pursuit of the bad guy.  It is absolutely amazing to me that these Americans trot in a front door somewhere they call home most nights to their children and when their little one says . . . . "I missed you today Dad.  How was your day at work?"  These amazing Americans probably look down and with some degree of "plausible denial" say "It was just another day.  My day isn't important.  How was yours?"   Parents . . . . Grandparents~Well, this Bitsy believes "We've ALL achieved Seal Team 6 classification in one way or another!".  On that note . . . . "How was your day at work and did you get to dress like "Rambo"?"