OK, so I got in Friday night. I was able to finagle Delta into getting me on an earlier flight out of Columbia, South Carolina. I texted my dad and asked him if he'd pick me up two hours earlier in Salt Lake. I'd just started a cold, which I have now by the way, which has since robbed me of my voice. Of course, everyone wants to have an in-depth complicated conversation with you when you have no voice, and I've since stressed my vocal cords to the point where I can't sing the Sunbeam song. Which, sorta leads to where we are right no.
So, I'm at home with Olivia and Samuel. Sam's starting to fuss in his rocker and Olivia is playing trains and watching Diego. We started out with an arrangement where we'd watch one episode of Diego, and one episode of 30 Rock, but since that time we've supplemented 30 Rock with Shaun the Sheep, Diego, and more....Diego. She's glued. Well, about a half hour ago I figured the top of her sippy cup had failed because my left side was all wet. No such luck. Turns out when I'd asked Alexia to change Livy's bum, she did so, but failed to button up one side of the diaper. So, Livy peed all through her onesie and my shorts and of course my underoos.
I did nap on and off though, which apparently is a no-go to Olivia, because every four minutes or so she'd take my chin and wake me up so I didnt miss the most critical parts of Diego. I dont know what it is, but I'm exhausted. Did I mention Stace took the older kids to church? I'm getting a new calling next week by the way. I'm going to be co-teaching with my partner the 11 year old boys and girls, and also tag-teaming the requirements of being the 11 year old boy scout leader with Chad as well. It's good to have a partner,and Chad's an excellent one, because he's really flexible if I have to be out of town.
You should see Olivia, she has two giant flowers in her hair and semi-permanent blue marker all over her face. Just a shirt and a diaper on (third shirt this morning) and she's playing trains just as peacefully as can be. She's upset now because of monsters by the way. Josh has her believing if she goes upstairs or downstairs by herself that they'll get her. I'm really excited that he's instilled that in her.
Well hey, I gotta go. Just a quick note. Sammy's waking up and probably wants to have his sister color him with blue marker or something. You guys take care and good luck with all your endeavors.
See you later,
J
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Sunday, December 11, 2011
We wishth you a mewwy Chwistmasth...
Hey guys. Yeah, it's me. I know, I know, you're excited. You can't wait for the outcome. What deliciously sinful things has Jon been up to lately? Well, in a word, "None." Yeah, I'm a little shocked myself actually. It's been good actually. I'm here getting ready to start another week of training at Fort Jackson in South Carolina. Today is Sunday, our only day off in the course. The past week has been palatable. Nothing too overly-stressing, just late afternoons. I haven't had time to workout, actually desire to workout is there, but the past three days my shoulders have been killing me. I have a difficult time sleeping. I think I over-did it. After doing the, "Seal" P.T. the other day, we went swimming, and the front of my shoulderous majorus freakin' ached for three days. I'm going to give it the rest of today and hopefully start up again on Monday morning.
Anyhow, we have Monday through Friday left in the course. Well, more succinctly, Thursday. See Friday is graduation. I know, you're sad you missed it. But it will basically be in a amphitheater style room and we'll walk down, across the stage, and pick up a certificate. I know, you're weeping inside because you never thought this day would come. Well, boo on you, 'cause it did. I'm now eligible for promotion and smarter than I was just a few short weeks ago. I know, you're thinking to yourself, 'Self, how is that possible?', but it is.
So, last night we went out to a place to eat. It's pretty popular in the Columbia area. I, of course was one of the designated adults and have to stay sober. Which, as a Mormon dude, isn't really all that difficult. Anyhow, I snarfed down some nachos as an appetizer and a, "Shoboygan" which was basically a brautworst on a bun with mustard and saurkraut. Friggin' delicious I tell ya. Not great for the heart, but you know, when in Rome.
So, there was a giant gathering of lesbians in the skybox above us. Wait, let me back up. There's three parts to this establishment, a screened in smoking area outside, an elevated sitting area, and then a sunken area, and I guess technically a fourth if you include the bar all along the one wall. Anyhow, there was a mess of lesbians above us smokin' it up and gettin' jiggy. I'd say there was maybe two dozen. So of course, our little class of maybe ten people commenced to guessing what their purpose was for paining the town...camo. I thought perhaps they were a women's softball team celebrating their last victory. Someone else said they were a troop of bus drivers and gym coaches, and yet another hypothesized that they were in fact an former eastern block bowling/powerlifting team. One of the dudes in our class, an aging man who's going through a divorce, kept trying to convince either me or him that he could go up there and score one. I told him he may as well try to climb K-2 without any preparation or cold weather gear. Twice as likely to hit the summit(s) anyhow.
Where were we? Oh, anyhow, that lasted from about 7:30 to 9:45, after which I was done playing the part of, Father Knows Best, and Jefe' and I decided to bolt. That's young people speak for, "Jet" case you didn't know.
Anyhow, I got home and started watching Christmas Vacation. I came in about the part where he's wearing that stupid turbin on his head and those pink gloves watching movies in the attic. Then of course my wife commenced sending me festive holiday picture-texts of her and the kids riding the Trax train to see the Temple lights. So, that's nice. Sitting in your room, after missing the birth of your son, and your anniversary on the following phase, and now you're kids and wife are braving the elements to go drink hot choco at Temple Square while you're in the nice warm room preparing to watch Vince Vaughan as Fred Claus. By the way, his movie, "Four Christmases", FRIGGIN' HILLARIOUS! My favorite part is him on the roof trying to instal this satellite dish and the t.v. smashing across the room and ending up in a firey heap in his dad's living room. I mean, the poor guy was just trying to give his dad a gift and deal with his disfunctional family. So, I'm sure you all can relate.
Anyhow, I've had a good go-round. I'm kinda done. I'm not motivated to work on my country brief that's due Wednesday at all. I know, you're thinking, 'but why? Turkmenistan is so interesting?' yeah, well, it might be, considering their average education level is 8th grade and that military service is compulsory from age 19 to 29 for one year for males, but believe it or not, the rest of the reading is pretty dry. Actually, looking at the website for Turkmenistan, which basically is a single page linking you to the CIA World Factbook and State Department information from 1991, it's hard to believe you wouldnt just sop this stuff up with a buscuit it's that danged good.
Alright, well hey listen, it's been real, I know you've had fun, but I've got a whole lotta layin' around to do today and I have to get to it. You know I love ya, always will, but Stay Classy Salt Lake. Mmmkay?
Alright, but seriously, have fun and take care. We'll see you all around Festivus for the airing of grievances.
Always,
J
Anyhow, we have Monday through Friday left in the course. Well, more succinctly, Thursday. See Friday is graduation. I know, you're sad you missed it. But it will basically be in a amphitheater style room and we'll walk down, across the stage, and pick up a certificate. I know, you're weeping inside because you never thought this day would come. Well, boo on you, 'cause it did. I'm now eligible for promotion and smarter than I was just a few short weeks ago. I know, you're thinking to yourself, 'Self, how is that possible?', but it is.
So, last night we went out to a place to eat. It's pretty popular in the Columbia area. I, of course was one of the designated adults and have to stay sober. Which, as a Mormon dude, isn't really all that difficult. Anyhow, I snarfed down some nachos as an appetizer and a, "Shoboygan" which was basically a brautworst on a bun with mustard and saurkraut. Friggin' delicious I tell ya. Not great for the heart, but you know, when in Rome.
So, there was a giant gathering of lesbians in the skybox above us. Wait, let me back up. There's three parts to this establishment, a screened in smoking area outside, an elevated sitting area, and then a sunken area, and I guess technically a fourth if you include the bar all along the one wall. Anyhow, there was a mess of lesbians above us smokin' it up and gettin' jiggy. I'd say there was maybe two dozen. So of course, our little class of maybe ten people commenced to guessing what their purpose was for paining the town...camo. I thought perhaps they were a women's softball team celebrating their last victory. Someone else said they were a troop of bus drivers and gym coaches, and yet another hypothesized that they were in fact an former eastern block bowling/powerlifting team. One of the dudes in our class, an aging man who's going through a divorce, kept trying to convince either me or him that he could go up there and score one. I told him he may as well try to climb K-2 without any preparation or cold weather gear. Twice as likely to hit the summit(s) anyhow.
Where were we? Oh, anyhow, that lasted from about 7:30 to 9:45, after which I was done playing the part of, Father Knows Best, and Jefe' and I decided to bolt. That's young people speak for, "Jet" case you didn't know.
Anyhow, I got home and started watching Christmas Vacation. I came in about the part where he's wearing that stupid turbin on his head and those pink gloves watching movies in the attic. Then of course my wife commenced sending me festive holiday picture-texts of her and the kids riding the Trax train to see the Temple lights. So, that's nice. Sitting in your room, after missing the birth of your son, and your anniversary on the following phase, and now you're kids and wife are braving the elements to go drink hot choco at Temple Square while you're in the nice warm room preparing to watch Vince Vaughan as Fred Claus. By the way, his movie, "Four Christmases", FRIGGIN' HILLARIOUS! My favorite part is him on the roof trying to instal this satellite dish and the t.v. smashing across the room and ending up in a firey heap in his dad's living room. I mean, the poor guy was just trying to give his dad a gift and deal with his disfunctional family. So, I'm sure you all can relate.
Anyhow, I've had a good go-round. I'm kinda done. I'm not motivated to work on my country brief that's due Wednesday at all. I know, you're thinking, 'but why? Turkmenistan is so interesting?' yeah, well, it might be, considering their average education level is 8th grade and that military service is compulsory from age 19 to 29 for one year for males, but believe it or not, the rest of the reading is pretty dry. Actually, looking at the website for Turkmenistan, which basically is a single page linking you to the CIA World Factbook and State Department information from 1991, it's hard to believe you wouldnt just sop this stuff up with a buscuit it's that danged good.
Alright, well hey listen, it's been real, I know you've had fun, but I've got a whole lotta layin' around to do today and I have to get to it. You know I love ya, always will, but Stay Classy Salt Lake. Mmmkay?
Alright, but seriously, have fun and take care. We'll see you all around Festivus for the airing of grievances.
Always,
J
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Kings Mountain
Yesterday in class we discussed the Battle of Kings Mountain. See, Kings Mountain was a Revolutionary War battle in South Carolina. The interesting part about it, was that it wasn't really a battle between Brittish troops and American Minutemen. Actually, it was fought in the largest part between Americans who were loyal to the crown, and patriots who didn't quite see it the same way. I just wanted to take a moment to jot down some of my thoughts as twenty of us in the class discussed this battle, which ultimately became the turning point in the Revolution both in the South, and in the direction of the war.
So, the backdrop is such that apparently there'd been a lot of infighting in the South to start with. Loyalists who supported the monarchy had been sort of looked down upon by the generations of Patriots who really didnt see the need to continue being under represented and over taxed by the crown. Additionally, there's an entire backdrop of religious undertones that the Scotts and Irish brought with them and the idea of self rule. See, the Patriots, as it turned out, believed in the Protestant ethic of electing their own local leaders who should represent them. The Loyalists on the other hand, were either comfortable with the idea of an established government and the protection it afforded, or a true sense of nationalism which it brought about far removed. Either way, General Cornwallis' decision to send troops South to Charleston and rally the Loyalist sympathizers turned out to be a bad idea.
See, some of Cornwallis' goons decided that they'd recruit the Loyalists and turn them against the rabble Patriots. Well, unbenownst to the Loyalists, the Brittish pretty well thought all of the Americans were dirty heathenist filth and they only elected to spur on the Loyalists to divide the South from the North and establish a foothold and cut off supplies to the North. Well long story longer, it turns out, that during some of the critical battles, the Brittish pretty much massacred the Patriot even after they had surrendered. Killed them all almost down to the last man. Hundreds of them in one battle alone. Well, it pretty well galvanized the Patriots and served as a call to arms. The "Over the Mountain" men from the frontier came to the aid of the Patriots and in defense of their own freedoms and liberties which were now threatened.
Well, as I said, we had a discussion about this, and it occurred to me, that in every conflict, both sides can be right. Consequently, in some regards even, both sides can be wrong. But here's the crux, individuals in positions of authority may and often will make tactical errors. But the errors that seem to cost the most by way of inertia and success on the battlefield, really stem from character and ethical challenges presented during the heat of battle.
What I'm getting at, is that as we discussed the battle, and it's importance, the consequences of the key leaders' actions and the tactical nature of their movements, it struck me. See, the Loyalists in the area were actually right. We're told to support our government leaders and have a sense of national pride and conviction and to protect those same ideals instilled in the protection of nation and citizen. It's the same quandry faced by General Lee in the preceding days of the Civil War. How does one take orders from his nation to kill his neighbors and go to war with his own State and family? Of course Lee chose to command the Confederate Armies, and he believed at that moment he was making the best choice in supporting succession from the Union. In fact, removal of the question of slavery and focussing on State's Rights and the issues associated with self-governance at the local level, in many ways he was right. I would go so far as to say, that with the backdrop of a relatively recent split from the Crown in Brittain, coupled with the dangers of a strong central government and the challenges faced across Europe, he sort of had the right idea.
Here's what's wrong with that now. Of course, hindsight is twenty-twenty, and we see the Confederates (as the losers in this case) as rabble who couldnt wait to enslave mankind and perpetuate an aristocratic ruling class of rich plantation owners. However, I would submit that the majority of people by volume were not rich, nor were they owners of vast plantations, but were in fact eeking out a living as tenant farmers. However, here's where it gets even more sticky. These people, the majority of the southern people, believed in that self-same governance at the local level, and the self sufficiency afforded by the Protestant ethic.
Here's how it all ties in. Well, see the devil is in the details. This is where I think it's important that we sit up and take notice as we go forward in the coming days. See, each party, each person, each man or woman has their own sense of right and wrong. Their own levels of importance and set of values. Each one of those, can be twisted such that it becomes confusing as to who's actually right, and who's actually wrong. In fact, in the vast sense, issues between Democrats and Republicans are really not that great. Both want what's best for America. Both think their correct, and both in a sense are. But what we need is to make decisions as a nation, based on principle. Unshifting principles of right and wrong. Those principles have to be bigger than what is temporarily fashionable. Therefore, they have to be predicated on the principles of right as taught by God. Now, say what you will about mixing church and state, but the state can make shifting rules all it wants and that becomes the new norm. The "State" in Germany during WWII made all kinds of new norms in regards to right and wrong and we have a slug of Hollocost examples to prove why that doesnt work.
All I'm saying is that as we go forward, things will become more and more confusing. It's up to us to make decisions in our leadership based on principle, and not on expediency. I got a lot more to say but I'm running out of time now. Anyhow, I gotta get to school. You know I think the world of ya. Have a great day.
Always,
J
So, the backdrop is such that apparently there'd been a lot of infighting in the South to start with. Loyalists who supported the monarchy had been sort of looked down upon by the generations of Patriots who really didnt see the need to continue being under represented and over taxed by the crown. Additionally, there's an entire backdrop of religious undertones that the Scotts and Irish brought with them and the idea of self rule. See, the Patriots, as it turned out, believed in the Protestant ethic of electing their own local leaders who should represent them. The Loyalists on the other hand, were either comfortable with the idea of an established government and the protection it afforded, or a true sense of nationalism which it brought about far removed. Either way, General Cornwallis' decision to send troops South to Charleston and rally the Loyalist sympathizers turned out to be a bad idea.
See, some of Cornwallis' goons decided that they'd recruit the Loyalists and turn them against the rabble Patriots. Well, unbenownst to the Loyalists, the Brittish pretty well thought all of the Americans were dirty heathenist filth and they only elected to spur on the Loyalists to divide the South from the North and establish a foothold and cut off supplies to the North. Well long story longer, it turns out, that during some of the critical battles, the Brittish pretty much massacred the Patriot even after they had surrendered. Killed them all almost down to the last man. Hundreds of them in one battle alone. Well, it pretty well galvanized the Patriots and served as a call to arms. The "Over the Mountain" men from the frontier came to the aid of the Patriots and in defense of their own freedoms and liberties which were now threatened.
Well, as I said, we had a discussion about this, and it occurred to me, that in every conflict, both sides can be right. Consequently, in some regards even, both sides can be wrong. But here's the crux, individuals in positions of authority may and often will make tactical errors. But the errors that seem to cost the most by way of inertia and success on the battlefield, really stem from character and ethical challenges presented during the heat of battle.
What I'm getting at, is that as we discussed the battle, and it's importance, the consequences of the key leaders' actions and the tactical nature of their movements, it struck me. See, the Loyalists in the area were actually right. We're told to support our government leaders and have a sense of national pride and conviction and to protect those same ideals instilled in the protection of nation and citizen. It's the same quandry faced by General Lee in the preceding days of the Civil War. How does one take orders from his nation to kill his neighbors and go to war with his own State and family? Of course Lee chose to command the Confederate Armies, and he believed at that moment he was making the best choice in supporting succession from the Union. In fact, removal of the question of slavery and focussing on State's Rights and the issues associated with self-governance at the local level, in many ways he was right. I would go so far as to say, that with the backdrop of a relatively recent split from the Crown in Brittain, coupled with the dangers of a strong central government and the challenges faced across Europe, he sort of had the right idea.
Here's what's wrong with that now. Of course, hindsight is twenty-twenty, and we see the Confederates (as the losers in this case) as rabble who couldnt wait to enslave mankind and perpetuate an aristocratic ruling class of rich plantation owners. However, I would submit that the majority of people by volume were not rich, nor were they owners of vast plantations, but were in fact eeking out a living as tenant farmers. However, here's where it gets even more sticky. These people, the majority of the southern people, believed in that self-same governance at the local level, and the self sufficiency afforded by the Protestant ethic.
Here's how it all ties in. Well, see the devil is in the details. This is where I think it's important that we sit up and take notice as we go forward in the coming days. See, each party, each person, each man or woman has their own sense of right and wrong. Their own levels of importance and set of values. Each one of those, can be twisted such that it becomes confusing as to who's actually right, and who's actually wrong. In fact, in the vast sense, issues between Democrats and Republicans are really not that great. Both want what's best for America. Both think their correct, and both in a sense are. But what we need is to make decisions as a nation, based on principle. Unshifting principles of right and wrong. Those principles have to be bigger than what is temporarily fashionable. Therefore, they have to be predicated on the principles of right as taught by God. Now, say what you will about mixing church and state, but the state can make shifting rules all it wants and that becomes the new norm. The "State" in Germany during WWII made all kinds of new norms in regards to right and wrong and we have a slug of Hollocost examples to prove why that doesnt work.
All I'm saying is that as we go forward, things will become more and more confusing. It's up to us to make decisions in our leadership based on principle, and not on expediency. I got a lot more to say but I'm running out of time now. Anyhow, I gotta get to school. You know I think the world of ya. Have a great day.
Always,
J
Monday, December 5, 2011
Phase III...
Hi guys. Yeah, it's me again. Listen, I know it's been a while. I haven't had much time. I've been sequestered in the house doing my online training for my captain's course. Pretty much the last month since I got back. Wow, been quite a whirlwind too. Sam is growing like a weed now, Stacey looks fantastic and things seem to be on-track again.
So, let's see, here I am, in a room at Fort Jackson, S.C. It's a nice room. Basically a studio apartment. I went out with my friend Jeff and we got some dinner last night when I arrived. He's from Hawaii by the way. He too feels my pain on the whole distance learning module thing. Anyhow, it was great to get some dinner. I had the chicken chimi. It's my last good meal for a while. Oh, well see, I went to the Wal Mart after dinner and snagged some stuff for my room. I'm going to do my best to eat more healthfully while I'm here the next two weeks. Yeah, I picked up some brown rice cups, some Lean/Healthy cuisine microwave meals, and some fruit and vegetables. Additionally I made some goals on the plane over that I'm going to try and exact into the new year. Yeah, I know, 2012. Are you ready? Me neither.
So, speaking of that, while I was on the plane I started jotting some things down. I made a couple of lists. Things I'd like to do for myself, things I'd like to do for others, things I'd like to do professionally. I came up with some things that I'd really like to do. A couple of which I think I'll share herein.
1) I'd like to read my scriptures every day. I was doing really well for a while but about the time football season started it started to wane a little.
2) I'd like to be a better husband. I know, you're thinking, "But he's the bestest husband ever??" Yeah, I could do a little better. I've really been trying the last couple of years, but I think I could do better. So, I made a list. I started out with ten things to do each month to surprise, or show Stacey I care. However, then I thought maybe 30 items. Like, one a day. A secret list of sorts. So, I made this list, and I'm going to start checking them off. When I get to the end of the list, I'll write thirty more. I may even put it in my Outlook Calendar as a Task. Yeah, I know, Mega-Romantic. I get that a lot actually.
3) Now that I'm in a lull for military schools, I'd like to learn to play the piano. I've always wanted to, and believe it or not, I can actually sing, I just dont know how to do it correctly. So, since Stacey teaches....I put two and two together. I'm going to start lessons in January. I'm actually quite excited.
4) I've made some goals for my physical improvement. I really want to step it up a few notches, and as alluded to earlier, eat much better and step up my game with my physical training. I'm just now accepting that I'll be 40 in a couple years, and that's not scary at all. No, seriously. My goal is to be able to pull my shirt off in the yard at forty and not be hesitant about it. Yeah, I know it's vain, so sue me.
5) Professionally. I have a lot of ambitions for my new gig. It's really too much to go into here, but I want to redouble my efforts. Now that I'm full-time as the Commander and AO of the unit, I have all the time in my day to improve my foxhole. I plan on doing just that. Babysteps though. I should promote to Major soon, (eligible in February) and I'll be back on track to where I wanted to be.
Anyhow, I gotta get ready. I haven't read my scriptures yet and I wanted to knock it out before class starts. Much less stress today, I have a Dodge Avenger this go-round, and I am living a stone's throw away from the school house. I know a little more of what to expect and the level of stress is way down from last time.
You know I want nothing but the best for you. Thanks for taking the time.
Always,
J
So, let's see, here I am, in a room at Fort Jackson, S.C. It's a nice room. Basically a studio apartment. I went out with my friend Jeff and we got some dinner last night when I arrived. He's from Hawaii by the way. He too feels my pain on the whole distance learning module thing. Anyhow, it was great to get some dinner. I had the chicken chimi. It's my last good meal for a while. Oh, well see, I went to the Wal Mart after dinner and snagged some stuff for my room. I'm going to do my best to eat more healthfully while I'm here the next two weeks. Yeah, I picked up some brown rice cups, some Lean/Healthy cuisine microwave meals, and some fruit and vegetables. Additionally I made some goals on the plane over that I'm going to try and exact into the new year. Yeah, I know, 2012. Are you ready? Me neither.
So, speaking of that, while I was on the plane I started jotting some things down. I made a couple of lists. Things I'd like to do for myself, things I'd like to do for others, things I'd like to do professionally. I came up with some things that I'd really like to do. A couple of which I think I'll share herein.
1) I'd like to read my scriptures every day. I was doing really well for a while but about the time football season started it started to wane a little.
2) I'd like to be a better husband. I know, you're thinking, "But he's the bestest husband ever??" Yeah, I could do a little better. I've really been trying the last couple of years, but I think I could do better. So, I made a list. I started out with ten things to do each month to surprise, or show Stacey I care. However, then I thought maybe 30 items. Like, one a day. A secret list of sorts. So, I made this list, and I'm going to start checking them off. When I get to the end of the list, I'll write thirty more. I may even put it in my Outlook Calendar as a Task. Yeah, I know, Mega-Romantic. I get that a lot actually.
3) Now that I'm in a lull for military schools, I'd like to learn to play the piano. I've always wanted to, and believe it or not, I can actually sing, I just dont know how to do it correctly. So, since Stacey teaches....I put two and two together. I'm going to start lessons in January. I'm actually quite excited.
4) I've made some goals for my physical improvement. I really want to step it up a few notches, and as alluded to earlier, eat much better and step up my game with my physical training. I'm just now accepting that I'll be 40 in a couple years, and that's not scary at all. No, seriously. My goal is to be able to pull my shirt off in the yard at forty and not be hesitant about it. Yeah, I know it's vain, so sue me.
5) Professionally. I have a lot of ambitions for my new gig. It's really too much to go into here, but I want to redouble my efforts. Now that I'm full-time as the Commander and AO of the unit, I have all the time in my day to improve my foxhole. I plan on doing just that. Babysteps though. I should promote to Major soon, (eligible in February) and I'll be back on track to where I wanted to be.
Anyhow, I gotta get ready. I haven't read my scriptures yet and I wanted to knock it out before class starts. Much less stress today, I have a Dodge Avenger this go-round, and I am living a stone's throw away from the school house. I know a little more of what to expect and the level of stress is way down from last time.
You know I want nothing but the best for you. Thanks for taking the time.
Always,
J
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Breakfast at Tiffany's...
OK, so today I was just sitting here, minding my own business. Stacey and I got to bed late after having some friends over last night. In addition, Sammy has caught a little stuffy nose from one of the culture samples that were running around here on Pie Night the other day. Olivia, whom as it turns out is sitting right next to me crying, also had a rough evening with a cough. So this morning, being the less than dutiful husband that I am, I thought it a good idea to go downstairs and supervise the chaos.
So, I'm sitting there, minding my own beeswax, trying to quietly watch, "30 Rock" on The Netflix. I'm almost all the way through, "Mad Men" and half way through, "Breaking Bad" and needed something a little less course for a Sunday mornin'. By the way, I'm really starting to dislike Betty Draper. I was rooting for her in the beginning. But now she's kind of dropped off the deep end and gotten mean. I especially dont like the way she treats Sally. Oh, and Walt and Jessie are cranking out some mad....well, Crank and I think he's about to kill off his boss, the Chicken man. But dont spoil it for me.
Annnnnyhow. So I'm sitting here, after commandeering the remote from Lexi, and shutting down the Hannah Montana brain-drain. However, not using the television as a babysitter has it's drawbacks. See, once Lexi went from Beta Waves to Alpha Waves she was on a mission. She was bound and determined to make breakfast. Then Isabelle wanted to show me something with my feet whereby my mother and her mother were out hanging clothes, and apparently my mother hauled off and hit her mother right in the nose. So after going through all six colors she knows how to spell, she then enlisted Olivia to put on an impromptu concert or...whatever you call ballerinas dancing in front of your view of the T.V. Then Isabelle was convinced that her mother, whom was recouperating from being up with the babies all night, needed to be awakened with a seventeen course meal.
So after they all wore me down for about an hour of, "dad, can we make a big breakfast?" Whereby my first 1,000 answers were, "No, let's just have a bowl of cereal." I finally relented. So, I agreed to JUST waffles. I know Lex and Josh can make the batter and I was OK with cleaning up seven plates, sixteen forks, thirty-two cups and spilled orange juice, milk, grape juice, Ovaltine and whatever else the hell we got out while I was in the bathroom for thirty-five seconds.
So, as I'm sitting there, taking Sammy's onsie off (Josh tried to feed him and due to the graphic nature of, "30 Rock" he failed to notice he was drowning his brother with a bottle and Sammy puked it all back up. Finally, knowing I was about to uncork, I sent the three older kids to the kitchen to make the damn waffles already. Of course, with the nose of the camel so squarely in my tent, they chewed me down to agreeing to bacon (how do you say, 'no' to bacon????) I hear them all behind me slamming cupboards, dropping plates, mixing stuff with every imaginable variant of spoon and every piece of measuring accoutrement we own.
So of course, not to be outdone, Lexi shows up to the side of me with what appears to be three bananas sliced and placed lovingly in a circle around a plate with grapes and in the center is a big glob of what appears to be blueberry yogurt. "For Mom, do you think she'll like it?"
So, I of course threw one of my mini-fits after trying to empty the dishwasher and put our tupperware away. By the way, WHAT the HELL is the deal with tupperware? Can we NOT make about five standard sizes of tupperware? Have you ever tried to restack that crap after your kids have been in there digging around? You basically have to pull every swinging peice of storage plastic out, stack in on the counter by type, size, depth, and appearance and then put it all back in strategically, while trying to keep that damn lazy-suzan in the corner cabinet from rotating 15 degrees every time you let go of it. Not to mention every time you bend down to put another stack in, you realize there is yet one more undefinable section of mystery goo on a section of the cabinets you didnt notice before.
Meanwhile, back at the batcave, someone broke the slidey-thingy inside the toilet, so everytime you hear water running you freak out and run back to the bathroom and jiggle the handle to avoid over-flowing the tank and soaking the back of the garbage can, which by the way is full, with poopy diapers and you without pants have zero desire to brave the elements and empty, but because of the mental anguish involved in getting a 12 year old boy to focus long enough to hear you, you run out and empty anyway. As you leave the back porch you're greated by an 85lb dog that steps on your feet with her claws, and you spy yet another six piles of labra-extract that your son AGAIN failed to pick up yesterday in between snow storms.
So then you get back inside, and someone has put the baby on the floor and now they're doing urban dance moves around his head, trying their best to surprise everyone in the house when the self-fullfilling prophesy of making him cry comes true. But wait! It gets better. So you offer, out of the kindness of your heart, to watch the two littlest (sickliest) kids while your loving spouse takes the other demon-spawn for 3 hours of down-time. Not to be outdone and this not being her first rodeo, she counter-offers with YOU staying home for the first hour and her staying home the second and third hour. Oh, by the way, you also get to chase the other three through the halls of the church and coral them into the Honda before you snap and pull one of their arms out of their socket for thinking their cute and smarting-off in front of one of the casual associates in church who already think you're PTSD and liable to snap at any moment.
I gotta wrap this up, Diego is singing about some humpback whale and if I have to listen to another 24 minute episode of some latino kid saving the world one animal at a time I'm going to pluck an eye out or something worse. "Gracias!"
Anyhow, I gotta go, there's yogurt sliding down the side of the table in the kitchen and apparently I am the only one on this level of the house qualified to notice and act. Stacey's upstairs running the hairdryer and keeping Isabelle and Josh away from Sammy on the bed. By the way, what is it with 12 year old boys? Have you seen their hands and fingernails??? Talk about disgusting. He coughs all over his hands which are already perma-sticky and then sucks in snot and moping around attempts to find with 1/100th of his daily allowance for effort to put a fork back in the drawer from whence it came. Now I'm refereeing between a sassy 10 year old girl and a 2 year old as to watching Diego or Hannah Montana.
Pray for me.
Alright kids. Love ya and all, but I gotta bounce. It's too cold to hide in the garage and I have to make a presence upstairs with a smile and excitement for our quality time together after the long...exceptionally long...holiday time off from work. I friggin' love Mondays!
J
So, I'm sitting there, minding my own beeswax, trying to quietly watch, "30 Rock" on The Netflix. I'm almost all the way through, "Mad Men" and half way through, "Breaking Bad" and needed something a little less course for a Sunday mornin'. By the way, I'm really starting to dislike Betty Draper. I was rooting for her in the beginning. But now she's kind of dropped off the deep end and gotten mean. I especially dont like the way she treats Sally. Oh, and Walt and Jessie are cranking out some mad....well, Crank and I think he's about to kill off his boss, the Chicken man. But dont spoil it for me.
Annnnnyhow. So I'm sitting here, after commandeering the remote from Lexi, and shutting down the Hannah Montana brain-drain. However, not using the television as a babysitter has it's drawbacks. See, once Lexi went from Beta Waves to Alpha Waves she was on a mission. She was bound and determined to make breakfast. Then Isabelle wanted to show me something with my feet whereby my mother and her mother were out hanging clothes, and apparently my mother hauled off and hit her mother right in the nose. So after going through all six colors she knows how to spell, she then enlisted Olivia to put on an impromptu concert or...whatever you call ballerinas dancing in front of your view of the T.V. Then Isabelle was convinced that her mother, whom was recouperating from being up with the babies all night, needed to be awakened with a seventeen course meal.
So after they all wore me down for about an hour of, "dad, can we make a big breakfast?" Whereby my first 1,000 answers were, "No, let's just have a bowl of cereal." I finally relented. So, I agreed to JUST waffles. I know Lex and Josh can make the batter and I was OK with cleaning up seven plates, sixteen forks, thirty-two cups and spilled orange juice, milk, grape juice, Ovaltine and whatever else the hell we got out while I was in the bathroom for thirty-five seconds.
So, as I'm sitting there, taking Sammy's onsie off (Josh tried to feed him and due to the graphic nature of, "30 Rock" he failed to notice he was drowning his brother with a bottle and Sammy puked it all back up. Finally, knowing I was about to uncork, I sent the three older kids to the kitchen to make the damn waffles already. Of course, with the nose of the camel so squarely in my tent, they chewed me down to agreeing to bacon (how do you say, 'no' to bacon????) I hear them all behind me slamming cupboards, dropping plates, mixing stuff with every imaginable variant of spoon and every piece of measuring accoutrement we own.
So of course, not to be outdone, Lexi shows up to the side of me with what appears to be three bananas sliced and placed lovingly in a circle around a plate with grapes and in the center is a big glob of what appears to be blueberry yogurt. "For Mom, do you think she'll like it?"
So, I of course threw one of my mini-fits after trying to empty the dishwasher and put our tupperware away. By the way, WHAT the HELL is the deal with tupperware? Can we NOT make about five standard sizes of tupperware? Have you ever tried to restack that crap after your kids have been in there digging around? You basically have to pull every swinging peice of storage plastic out, stack in on the counter by type, size, depth, and appearance and then put it all back in strategically, while trying to keep that damn lazy-suzan in the corner cabinet from rotating 15 degrees every time you let go of it. Not to mention every time you bend down to put another stack in, you realize there is yet one more undefinable section of mystery goo on a section of the cabinets you didnt notice before.
Meanwhile, back at the batcave, someone broke the slidey-thingy inside the toilet, so everytime you hear water running you freak out and run back to the bathroom and jiggle the handle to avoid over-flowing the tank and soaking the back of the garbage can, which by the way is full, with poopy diapers and you without pants have zero desire to brave the elements and empty, but because of the mental anguish involved in getting a 12 year old boy to focus long enough to hear you, you run out and empty anyway. As you leave the back porch you're greated by an 85lb dog that steps on your feet with her claws, and you spy yet another six piles of labra-extract that your son AGAIN failed to pick up yesterday in between snow storms.
So then you get back inside, and someone has put the baby on the floor and now they're doing urban dance moves around his head, trying their best to surprise everyone in the house when the self-fullfilling prophesy of making him cry comes true. But wait! It gets better. So you offer, out of the kindness of your heart, to watch the two littlest (sickliest) kids while your loving spouse takes the other demon-spawn for 3 hours of down-time. Not to be outdone and this not being her first rodeo, she counter-offers with YOU staying home for the first hour and her staying home the second and third hour. Oh, by the way, you also get to chase the other three through the halls of the church and coral them into the Honda before you snap and pull one of their arms out of their socket for thinking their cute and smarting-off in front of one of the casual associates in church who already think you're PTSD and liable to snap at any moment.
I gotta wrap this up, Diego is singing about some humpback whale and if I have to listen to another 24 minute episode of some latino kid saving the world one animal at a time I'm going to pluck an eye out or something worse. "Gracias!"
Anyhow, I gotta go, there's yogurt sliding down the side of the table in the kitchen and apparently I am the only one on this level of the house qualified to notice and act. Stacey's upstairs running the hairdryer and keeping Isabelle and Josh away from Sammy on the bed. By the way, what is it with 12 year old boys? Have you seen their hands and fingernails??? Talk about disgusting. He coughs all over his hands which are already perma-sticky and then sucks in snot and moping around attempts to find with 1/100th of his daily allowance for effort to put a fork back in the drawer from whence it came. Now I'm refereeing between a sassy 10 year old girl and a 2 year old as to watching Diego or Hannah Montana.
Pray for me.
Alright kids. Love ya and all, but I gotta bounce. It's too cold to hide in the garage and I have to make a presence upstairs with a smile and excitement for our quality time together after the long...exceptionally long...holiday time off from work. I friggin' love Mondays!
J
Friday, November 25, 2011
So much cooler online...
Hi. Yeah, it's me again. I'm taking a short break from my online training to give you, the reader, a quick update. Plus, I sorta have a smallish case of Adult A.D.D. In days gone by, I've punctuated my daily work schedule with intermittent bouts of Facebook, or personal mail delivery and recovery, but today, I'm proud to report, I have focussed on my school work for nearly three hours. OK, let's be honest. None of you are on Facebook today as the post-holiday requirements have been biting into our quality time together. Dont get me wrong, family (Isn't it About Time (R)) is important, but come-ON here folks, you're KILLIN' me.
So, let me just give you a run-down. So, we had inlaws and outlaws over to the house yesterday for Turkey Day. Before that, it was Pie Night, an annual tradition dating back upwards of five years in this particular neighborhood and a few years prior to that in another neighborhood we were kicked out of. So, I dont have a clue how many people showed up to the festivities on Pie Night, all I know is we went through over 100 plastic knives and forks. There were kids playing in the front and back yards, basement, a veritable din of efforts going on across the ground floor of Casa de Kenworthy and about 10 pm we shewed everyone to the main exit point a little worse for the wear.
So, ok, what I'm doing today now, to go back to the opening statements, is a Distance Learning course. It's a self-paced learning module that the Army insists I need to have before reporting again here at the beginning of Deciembre for one more go-round with the Active Components knowledge managers. I tried to tell them I was, "Self Smarted" but they weren't having any of it. So, about December 4 I'm going to climb on a big ol' jet airliner, and head back to South Carolina for Phase III of my Smarting. So, to that end, I have to finish four modules of between 5 and 9 mini-modules of slack-jawed blah blah blah with maximum retention. Yeah, and for those of you that know me, that's no short order considering my inability to focus...SQUIRREL!!!
Hold on, I gotta take this call...oh, that was, "Coast to Coast Car Ports." See, I'm looking at a nice 24x36x10 car port metal garage for our lot next year to park our trailer under at the lot. But, before I do, I have to get a couple of other things in order. Anyhow, my dream is to have water, power, and the proverbial pot. Plus it would be nice to finish my little fence and the parking area, put in a fire-pit and maybe fence the place in.
I lost my train of thought, where were we? Ah, yeah, the distance learning. I better get back to it. I need to finish a few sub-modules so that I can take Stacey Lou out tonight and see Footloose or something else. She's been locked in the house a few days too many.
Oh, last thing, I did the, "300" exercises again this morning at the Rec Center. I'm happy to report it wasn't nearly as bad as it has been the previous couple of weeks. I talked with Wayne Brown and he's almost convinced me to take up swimming as the missing peice of my reportoir of inadequacies.
Alright kids, back to the modules.
All the best meow meow.
J
So, let me just give you a run-down. So, we had inlaws and outlaws over to the house yesterday for Turkey Day. Before that, it was Pie Night, an annual tradition dating back upwards of five years in this particular neighborhood and a few years prior to that in another neighborhood we were kicked out of. So, I dont have a clue how many people showed up to the festivities on Pie Night, all I know is we went through over 100 plastic knives and forks. There were kids playing in the front and back yards, basement, a veritable din of efforts going on across the ground floor of Casa de Kenworthy and about 10 pm we shewed everyone to the main exit point a little worse for the wear.
So, ok, what I'm doing today now, to go back to the opening statements, is a Distance Learning course. It's a self-paced learning module that the Army insists I need to have before reporting again here at the beginning of Deciembre for one more go-round with the Active Components knowledge managers. I tried to tell them I was, "Self Smarted" but they weren't having any of it. So, about December 4 I'm going to climb on a big ol' jet airliner, and head back to South Carolina for Phase III of my Smarting. So, to that end, I have to finish four modules of between 5 and 9 mini-modules of slack-jawed blah blah blah with maximum retention. Yeah, and for those of you that know me, that's no short order considering my inability to focus...SQUIRREL!!!
Hold on, I gotta take this call...oh, that was, "Coast to Coast Car Ports." See, I'm looking at a nice 24x36x10 car port metal garage for our lot next year to park our trailer under at the lot. But, before I do, I have to get a couple of other things in order. Anyhow, my dream is to have water, power, and the proverbial pot. Plus it would be nice to finish my little fence and the parking area, put in a fire-pit and maybe fence the place in.
I lost my train of thought, where were we? Ah, yeah, the distance learning. I better get back to it. I need to finish a few sub-modules so that I can take Stacey Lou out tonight and see Footloose or something else. She's been locked in the house a few days too many.
Oh, last thing, I did the, "300" exercises again this morning at the Rec Center. I'm happy to report it wasn't nearly as bad as it has been the previous couple of weeks. I talked with Wayne Brown and he's almost convinced me to take up swimming as the missing peice of my reportoir of inadequacies.
Alright kids, back to the modules.
All the best meow meow.
J
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Dante's Invierno...
Hey, what's up? *head nod* Hold on, let me snag a Diet Luv. Been one of those days. *sigh*...man. Hey have a seat will ya? Man, you're making me nervous. Wow, where to start huh? Been one of those weeks. Let's see, we've got the snowblower, the new workout, the girls' combined birthday, return to work, the baby...sooooooooo much to go over. I'll try to keep it straight for you. Hey you want some music? Hold on, let me go grab something...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XtMy5IBmX7E&NR=1
So, I just finished writing a whole diatribe about how I went to the gym, and how my gut hurts and how we had a party for the girls, and how I bought a snowblower. Only I hit, "publish" and it logged me out, and now a perfectly good verbal diarreah was forever lost to the Western World.
MAN that sucks! Anyhow, you better have a seat. This could take a while.
OK, let's just hit the lowlights. Bought a snowblower. Now I lost all ambition to outline the dichotomy of having a new 209 Cc Orange Beast (I named her, "Ariel"). She can shoot snow a reported 50 feet, however Old Man Winter only set upon us with an inch and a third of the white powder so I haven't had a chance to fire her up.
Then there's the new Navy Seal and 300 Work Outs I started last week. Suffice it to say, my gut hurts from doing situps and floorwipers so bad that I think I have a bout of Montezuma's Revenge, when in fact it's just dormant muscle layers deep in my abdomen that have been reawakened. I'm tellin' you, it hurts from just above the Octagon all the way up my bellaye to my sternum. Mostly from the aforementioned, "Floor Wipers" which consists of laying on the floor, and holding a 45 lb bar and a 45 lb plate on each end straight up in a bench style hold while moving your feet up from the left plate to the right some 50 times. Then, I tried what's termed a, "Dead Lift" wherein you use that same setup, and put one hand over, and one hand under the bar and just stand up. Well, you start out like you were bent over with a sway-back and stickin' your butt out all seductive-like, then you just hold on to that bar and stand up. It's that easy. Only...50 TIMES! Yeah, in ONE DAY!! That's what I said!
So, now my back feels like I'm 80 and I'm going in for some cement to be put in it, and my gut feels like I've eaten 5 bowls of Fruit and Fibre and all this in the name of aging vanity and an attempt to rekindle my youthful vibrance. Plus I was hoping to lose 10 lb of inner-tube weight around my middle but...MAN this is a lot harder than the brochure said.
Nice jumping off point. See, I just finished ruining five full days of Navy Seal and "300" workouts with downing a half a pizza for my girls' combined Estrogen Fest birthdays. Yeah, that's what I said, 5 each 7 year old girls and 5 each 11 year old girls in one pool/pizza party. Oh man, I'm lucky to have escaped it alive. I got stuck in the drive-through at Little Cheeser's and they started talking. By the way, the girl at the window hands me four pizzas, four breadsticks and two 20 oz drinks. So I'm like, uh...didnt I order 2 liters? So she says, "Oh, did you?" Well, I only charged you for 20 ozers. To which I'm wondering, 'Hey, Blondie, I realize you're 17 and you're destined for greater things, but REALLY?! four pizzas, four breadsticks and we're all dozen of us going to warsh it down with a half a sacrament cup of drinky-drink?!' But I was too frightened by the cacaphony of Relief Societies in Training and just drove off dumber than what I started.
Anyhow, I gotta go, I gotta thing. All the best to you and your's. Just...pray for me a little will ya?
OK, attempt numero dos to save this to the public record.
Hugs and Medicated Wishes.
J
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XtMy5IBmX7E&NR=1
So, I just finished writing a whole diatribe about how I went to the gym, and how my gut hurts and how we had a party for the girls, and how I bought a snowblower. Only I hit, "publish" and it logged me out, and now a perfectly good verbal diarreah was forever lost to the Western World.
MAN that sucks! Anyhow, you better have a seat. This could take a while.
OK, let's just hit the lowlights. Bought a snowblower. Now I lost all ambition to outline the dichotomy of having a new 209 Cc Orange Beast (I named her, "Ariel"). She can shoot snow a reported 50 feet, however Old Man Winter only set upon us with an inch and a third of the white powder so I haven't had a chance to fire her up.
Then there's the new Navy Seal and 300 Work Outs I started last week. Suffice it to say, my gut hurts from doing situps and floorwipers so bad that I think I have a bout of Montezuma's Revenge, when in fact it's just dormant muscle layers deep in my abdomen that have been reawakened. I'm tellin' you, it hurts from just above the Octagon all the way up my bellaye to my sternum. Mostly from the aforementioned, "Floor Wipers" which consists of laying on the floor, and holding a 45 lb bar and a 45 lb plate on each end straight up in a bench style hold while moving your feet up from the left plate to the right some 50 times. Then, I tried what's termed a, "Dead Lift" wherein you use that same setup, and put one hand over, and one hand under the bar and just stand up. Well, you start out like you were bent over with a sway-back and stickin' your butt out all seductive-like, then you just hold on to that bar and stand up. It's that easy. Only...50 TIMES! Yeah, in ONE DAY!! That's what I said!
So, now my back feels like I'm 80 and I'm going in for some cement to be put in it, and my gut feels like I've eaten 5 bowls of Fruit and Fibre and all this in the name of aging vanity and an attempt to rekindle my youthful vibrance. Plus I was hoping to lose 10 lb of inner-tube weight around my middle but...MAN this is a lot harder than the brochure said.
Nice jumping off point. See, I just finished ruining five full days of Navy Seal and "300" workouts with downing a half a pizza for my girls' combined Estrogen Fest birthdays. Yeah, that's what I said, 5 each 7 year old girls and 5 each 11 year old girls in one pool/pizza party. Oh man, I'm lucky to have escaped it alive. I got stuck in the drive-through at Little Cheeser's and they started talking. By the way, the girl at the window hands me four pizzas, four breadsticks and two 20 oz drinks. So I'm like, uh...didnt I order 2 liters? So she says, "Oh, did you?" Well, I only charged you for 20 ozers. To which I'm wondering, 'Hey, Blondie, I realize you're 17 and you're destined for greater things, but REALLY?! four pizzas, four breadsticks and we're all dozen of us going to warsh it down with a half a sacrament cup of drinky-drink?!' But I was too frightened by the cacaphony of Relief Societies in Training and just drove off dumber than what I started.
Anyhow, I gotta go, I gotta thing. All the best to you and your's. Just...pray for me a little will ya?
OK, attempt numero dos to save this to the public record.
Hugs and Medicated Wishes.
J
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Cinema and Swimin' a.
So, yeah, it's been a week or so. Here's the update. Turns out I've been home now about nine days. I've got another day off from work but I'm not so sure I can handle one more. So, here's the deal. The other day, after we sent the big kids to school, I invited my mom to watch Baby Sammy and Stacey, Olivia, and I would head to the show for a matinae and watch, "Puss in Boots." Well it started out as a good idea. About the time mom got here we were already late for the show. No fault of my mom's, just that the first available show was a short fuze and the next one would have required us to find someone to receive the big kids from the bus. Believe me, you dont want that. When three of those kids get off the bus and touch down it can be downright frightening.
Anyhow, so we got to the show and Olivia and Stacey went to occupy our seats and I arrived late in the pitch black not sure which seats they were in. "Marco......?" So, after spending 15 bucks for a small popcorn, fifty cents worth of nacho chips and 25 cents worth of cheese and a small bottled water we were off and runnin'. Well, Olivia watched about the first seven minutes of the show and then lost all interest. We pretty much spent the rest of the time talking her into her booster seat, keeping her from smashing into the seats and people in front of us, and working on our inside voices. I tell you. It's harder to take Olivia to a movie than it is to get all seven of us to church.
So, then...what else....hmmm I lost my train of thought....oh yeah, swimming. THEN as if I couldnt get any dumber, yesterday I thought it would be a great idea to take Olivia, Isabelle, and Lexi to the Rec Center to swim. I took them all about three weeks ago, and I had Josh along. It wasn't bad because everyone had someone to play with, even me. But odd numbers produce odd results. So, this time, I spent less time trying to keep putty in Olivia's ears and more time trying to talk her into the floatation vest. I tell you what, shoes, coats, pants and life vests are just non-starters for Olivia. You want to talk about a fit??? Wow. Anyhow, after sitting on the edge of the wading pool looking more conspicuous than a catholic priest at a boyscout outing, we finally left.
So I tell the two big girls to take the bag and go into the girls' locker room and do their thing and meet me on the other side. The bag of course, has the keys to the truck as well as my sanity, because immediately upon our parting ways, Olivia through a complete fit and had a melt-down in the locker room. She was NOT about to have me take her swimsuit off and most certainly would NOT wash off. Well at this point I realized also my spare pair of Underoos were in the same bag that the girls had, and I was going to have to go Commando out of their in regular workout shorts and without a shirt. But I did have this swell looking hunting camo style pullover.
So, from thence, I walked out into the waiting area and Olivia again noticed people in the water having fun and began melt-down numero dos. So, I get over to the door of the girl's locker room and for the next 25 minutes yell like an idiot into it that I am serious they need to hurry up and get out here. So, seriously, 48 minutes after we split ways, the girls finally erupted out of the locker room, finally with the bag and our ticket to sanity. By then the snow was going at a 45 degree angle from the East and Olivia refused to put on shoes, or a now wet coat from the swim bag. So, with me, running commando and carrying the now squirming and inconsolable toddler while pushing two girls out the door in a rush to the North 40 of the rec center in the snow I realized I am in point of fact NOT Fred McMurray...and father certainly dont know best.
I gotta go. We're getting Sam's coat on and everyone's getting head-up for the festivities at church. Cover my six while we move. I'm leaving my concealed carry here because I know my Sunbeams will force me to remove my jacket and I'll have no way to explain the bulge in my lower back nor the handle of my 9mm. Plus, the kids dont understand the threat of a good pistol-whipping so I just leave it home now. And I think it's the law, I'm not sure, I have to research that.
Anyhow, hope you laughed a little, Lord knows if you dont laugh you'll cry.
All the best to you and your'en.
Always,
J
Anyhow, so we got to the show and Olivia and Stacey went to occupy our seats and I arrived late in the pitch black not sure which seats they were in. "Marco......?" So, after spending 15 bucks for a small popcorn, fifty cents worth of nacho chips and 25 cents worth of cheese and a small bottled water we were off and runnin'. Well, Olivia watched about the first seven minutes of the show and then lost all interest. We pretty much spent the rest of the time talking her into her booster seat, keeping her from smashing into the seats and people in front of us, and working on our inside voices. I tell you. It's harder to take Olivia to a movie than it is to get all seven of us to church.
So, then...what else....hmmm I lost my train of thought....oh yeah, swimming. THEN as if I couldnt get any dumber, yesterday I thought it would be a great idea to take Olivia, Isabelle, and Lexi to the Rec Center to swim. I took them all about three weeks ago, and I had Josh along. It wasn't bad because everyone had someone to play with, even me. But odd numbers produce odd results. So, this time, I spent less time trying to keep putty in Olivia's ears and more time trying to talk her into the floatation vest. I tell you what, shoes, coats, pants and life vests are just non-starters for Olivia. You want to talk about a fit??? Wow. Anyhow, after sitting on the edge of the wading pool looking more conspicuous than a catholic priest at a boyscout outing, we finally left.
So I tell the two big girls to take the bag and go into the girls' locker room and do their thing and meet me on the other side. The bag of course, has the keys to the truck as well as my sanity, because immediately upon our parting ways, Olivia through a complete fit and had a melt-down in the locker room. She was NOT about to have me take her swimsuit off and most certainly would NOT wash off. Well at this point I realized also my spare pair of Underoos were in the same bag that the girls had, and I was going to have to go Commando out of their in regular workout shorts and without a shirt. But I did have this swell looking hunting camo style pullover.
So, from thence, I walked out into the waiting area and Olivia again noticed people in the water having fun and began melt-down numero dos. So, I get over to the door of the girl's locker room and for the next 25 minutes yell like an idiot into it that I am serious they need to hurry up and get out here. So, seriously, 48 minutes after we split ways, the girls finally erupted out of the locker room, finally with the bag and our ticket to sanity. By then the snow was going at a 45 degree angle from the East and Olivia refused to put on shoes, or a now wet coat from the swim bag. So, with me, running commando and carrying the now squirming and inconsolable toddler while pushing two girls out the door in a rush to the North 40 of the rec center in the snow I realized I am in point of fact NOT Fred McMurray...and father certainly dont know best.
I gotta go. We're getting Sam's coat on and everyone's getting head-up for the festivities at church. Cover my six while we move. I'm leaving my concealed carry here because I know my Sunbeams will force me to remove my jacket and I'll have no way to explain the bulge in my lower back nor the handle of my 9mm. Plus, the kids dont understand the threat of a good pistol-whipping so I just leave it home now. And I think it's the law, I'm not sure, I have to research that.
Anyhow, hope you laughed a little, Lord knows if you dont laugh you'll cry.
All the best to you and your'en.
Always,
J
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Home again...
OK, you've all been incredibly patient with me of late. For that I thank you and offer sincere appreciation. Mostly I'm thankful for the people that helped Stacey out while I was away these last two weeks. It makes it so much more palatable to know that she has such a wonderful extended family and friend network. I just wanted to take a moment at really acknowledge that fact.
Where were we? Ah yes. Well some of you were interested in knowing exactly what went down upon my triumphant return to Casa de Kenworthy. What with a brand new son and all, I guess you're looking for some sort of cathartic understanding of self. Well, barring that, and just underscoring my incredible ability to overlook the obvious, to say the least, I am...."blessed." In fact I sometimes recognize days, months, even years later how the hand of the Almighty has directed the course of my life. Even when I fought tooth and nail against His direction, He has continued to bless me in ways that I dont fully comprehend until the moment of.
So, I guess, for one, walking in from a snowstorm, into your warm abode and seeing your beautiful wife sitting on the couch feeding your new son, may be just one of those moments. Usually when I walk in the door chaos ensues. The dog starts to bark, a couple of phones ring, somone's at the door, the kids are yelling....etc. But Friday night, it just sort of unfolded like a dream sequence. My dad had picked me up from the airport and we'd made small-talk about this and that on the way down, but my mind really was on getting to know my boy, Samuel. I tell you, I'm simply in awe of Stacey at times. Her ability to juggle the other four children, while arranging her own stay in order to have a child, alone, without the aid of her bumbling (sometimes) baffoon of a husband is amazing to me. She looks fantastic by the way. She told me she's lost over-all 39 lb from the time she started working out last year to today. She looks phenominal and I'm so proud of her efforts. She really is an inspiration to me in all respects. I constantly think of ways to measure up, and since I can't, I focus most of my efforts in picking up my underwear and socks and trying to minimize my footprint throughout the house. I dont wanna brag, but I even washed all my clothes before returning home this time to lessen the load. I know, I'm a giver. I give. What can I say?
Yeah, so...anyhow, Samuel. Man, poor kid looks just like Josh, whom looks just like me, so...whatareyagonna do you know? He's actually a very quiet little guy. You have no idea he's taking a snoozer over in the corner in the basinet right now. Oh, that reminds me, I have to finish a little of the basement soon because I wasn't anticipating having double-occupancy in 3 of 4 bedrooms in the house. Josh really needs his own room, mostly because he's slovenly, but because I cant have him in such close proximity to his sisters. Football is over and he's back to his old schenanigans and the girls pay for it dearly. Isabelle and Olivia are sharing a room right now, and when Sammy is making it through most the night we'll have to put him somewhere. Stacey thinks it's going to be Josh's room, but I'm not entirely convinced. Plus Olivia has to agree to sleep in the bottom bunk under Isabelle so...we're a series of If-Then statements at best right now.
So I have another school coming in December. Starts on the 4th and runs through like the 16th. Over our anniversary, my birthday and back just in time for Stacey's birthday. It's like a whirlwind around here. It's nice though because as soon as that check is in the block, I'm promotable to major and with the requirement to purchase a new(er) Mormon Assault Vehicle (MAV) we could use a little nudge up in the old pay-stub.
So, again, back to Sam, he's really quite small. I think we're going to have to hold off on getting slurpies at the Maverick for a while, but he's as cute as a button. He whimpers before he cries and so if you hear that and anticipate then you can usually have a bottle made, or a diaper at the ready. That's pretty much the only thing he gets upset about. He tolerates the kids pawing at him and being passed around the couch and really has a sweet demeanor thus far into his tenure.
Oh, I forgot to tell you. This is kind of personal. But when I was in South Carolina, last week I went to the PX to get some pizza to take back to the room. Well, as I pulled into the parking lot, it was completely filled with young Soldiers graduating from basic training. They had all their mom's and dad's and grandma's and what-not there. Well I had a vision. No seriously. I get these from time to time about how to prepare for the up and coming. Well I had a vision of Stacey and I in about six years picking up Josh. It's phenominal to me to think about, but I saw it plain as day. It rang true to my heart. I was wearing my dress uniform for his graduation. I was a lieutenant colonel and Stacey and I had checked into a local hotel and Josh was proudly showing us around the post. It was surreal but definately a precursor. Josh is twelve in a couple of months. Six years from now he'll of course be 18. But I remember the personal pride I felt walking around post in my uniform. I distinctly remember the moment I realized that I was a man. Not, like an adult by virtue of turning 18, but a man in the sense that my personal direction and destiny were now in my own control, and...now in hindsight, that of our Father in Heaven.
I'm looking forward to that day. I can't believe it's so close. Josh has talked about joining the Guard between his junior and senior year. He's even talked about the concurrent enrollment programs at the highschool which will allow him to graduate with a high school diploma as well as an associate's degree. Then off to his advanced occupational training after he graduations and hopefully, God willin' and the creek dont rise, a mission. I firmly believe Josh is entirely capable of it. I hope he's listened to his old man and really does it. I know personally I had that same ambition, but got a little lost in the sauce trying to do it my own way for a while. Anyhow, the kid makes me so proud. I'm really looking forward to him being such an example to Samuel. Samuel will be six and seeing his big brother graduate from both high school, college, and the military schools will go a long way.
I'm not worried in the least about Samuel, or any of our children for that reason. I know we've got incredible children. They're phenominal to say the least. I realize they'll do things and learn some things the hard way. But they're all genuinely good kids and I feel very blessed for that. I know they'll learn some of those tough life-lessons that both Stacey and I have. I know that we're doing our best to instill in them values which will help them dust themselves off when they make mistakes and try again.
Anyhow, I gotta get ready for church. It's been a few weeks since I've seen my Sunbeams. Love those little guys.
Anyhow, all the best to you and yours. We'll see you soon.
Always,
J
Where were we? Ah yes. Well some of you were interested in knowing exactly what went down upon my triumphant return to Casa de Kenworthy. What with a brand new son and all, I guess you're looking for some sort of cathartic understanding of self. Well, barring that, and just underscoring my incredible ability to overlook the obvious, to say the least, I am...."blessed." In fact I sometimes recognize days, months, even years later how the hand of the Almighty has directed the course of my life. Even when I fought tooth and nail against His direction, He has continued to bless me in ways that I dont fully comprehend until the moment of.
So, I guess, for one, walking in from a snowstorm, into your warm abode and seeing your beautiful wife sitting on the couch feeding your new son, may be just one of those moments. Usually when I walk in the door chaos ensues. The dog starts to bark, a couple of phones ring, somone's at the door, the kids are yelling....etc. But Friday night, it just sort of unfolded like a dream sequence. My dad had picked me up from the airport and we'd made small-talk about this and that on the way down, but my mind really was on getting to know my boy, Samuel. I tell you, I'm simply in awe of Stacey at times. Her ability to juggle the other four children, while arranging her own stay in order to have a child, alone, without the aid of her bumbling (sometimes) baffoon of a husband is amazing to me. She looks fantastic by the way. She told me she's lost over-all 39 lb from the time she started working out last year to today. She looks phenominal and I'm so proud of her efforts. She really is an inspiration to me in all respects. I constantly think of ways to measure up, and since I can't, I focus most of my efforts in picking up my underwear and socks and trying to minimize my footprint throughout the house. I dont wanna brag, but I even washed all my clothes before returning home this time to lessen the load. I know, I'm a giver. I give. What can I say?
Yeah, so...anyhow, Samuel. Man, poor kid looks just like Josh, whom looks just like me, so...whatareyagonna do you know? He's actually a very quiet little guy. You have no idea he's taking a snoozer over in the corner in the basinet right now. Oh, that reminds me, I have to finish a little of the basement soon because I wasn't anticipating having double-occupancy in 3 of 4 bedrooms in the house. Josh really needs his own room, mostly because he's slovenly, but because I cant have him in such close proximity to his sisters. Football is over and he's back to his old schenanigans and the girls pay for it dearly. Isabelle and Olivia are sharing a room right now, and when Sammy is making it through most the night we'll have to put him somewhere. Stacey thinks it's going to be Josh's room, but I'm not entirely convinced. Plus Olivia has to agree to sleep in the bottom bunk under Isabelle so...we're a series of If-Then statements at best right now.
So I have another school coming in December. Starts on the 4th and runs through like the 16th. Over our anniversary, my birthday and back just in time for Stacey's birthday. It's like a whirlwind around here. It's nice though because as soon as that check is in the block, I'm promotable to major and with the requirement to purchase a new(er) Mormon Assault Vehicle (MAV) we could use a little nudge up in the old pay-stub.
So, again, back to Sam, he's really quite small. I think we're going to have to hold off on getting slurpies at the Maverick for a while, but he's as cute as a button. He whimpers before he cries and so if you hear that and anticipate then you can usually have a bottle made, or a diaper at the ready. That's pretty much the only thing he gets upset about. He tolerates the kids pawing at him and being passed around the couch and really has a sweet demeanor thus far into his tenure.
Oh, I forgot to tell you. This is kind of personal. But when I was in South Carolina, last week I went to the PX to get some pizza to take back to the room. Well, as I pulled into the parking lot, it was completely filled with young Soldiers graduating from basic training. They had all their mom's and dad's and grandma's and what-not there. Well I had a vision. No seriously. I get these from time to time about how to prepare for the up and coming. Well I had a vision of Stacey and I in about six years picking up Josh. It's phenominal to me to think about, but I saw it plain as day. It rang true to my heart. I was wearing my dress uniform for his graduation. I was a lieutenant colonel and Stacey and I had checked into a local hotel and Josh was proudly showing us around the post. It was surreal but definately a precursor. Josh is twelve in a couple of months. Six years from now he'll of course be 18. But I remember the personal pride I felt walking around post in my uniform. I distinctly remember the moment I realized that I was a man. Not, like an adult by virtue of turning 18, but a man in the sense that my personal direction and destiny were now in my own control, and...now in hindsight, that of our Father in Heaven.
I'm looking forward to that day. I can't believe it's so close. Josh has talked about joining the Guard between his junior and senior year. He's even talked about the concurrent enrollment programs at the highschool which will allow him to graduate with a high school diploma as well as an associate's degree. Then off to his advanced occupational training after he graduations and hopefully, God willin' and the creek dont rise, a mission. I firmly believe Josh is entirely capable of it. I hope he's listened to his old man and really does it. I know personally I had that same ambition, but got a little lost in the sauce trying to do it my own way for a while. Anyhow, the kid makes me so proud. I'm really looking forward to him being such an example to Samuel. Samuel will be six and seeing his big brother graduate from both high school, college, and the military schools will go a long way.
I'm not worried in the least about Samuel, or any of our children for that reason. I know we've got incredible children. They're phenominal to say the least. I realize they'll do things and learn some things the hard way. But they're all genuinely good kids and I feel very blessed for that. I know they'll learn some of those tough life-lessons that both Stacey and I have. I know that we're doing our best to instill in them values which will help them dust themselves off when they make mistakes and try again.
Anyhow, I gotta get ready for church. It's been a few weeks since I've seen my Sunbeams. Love those little guys.
Anyhow, all the best to you and yours. We'll see you soon.
Always,
J
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Baby Samuel...
Well, hey, what can I say? I've been busy alright? I know, I know, it's been a while. Cut me some slack. I've been in class all week as well as feeling supremely guilty about missing the birth of our son. Numero Cinco, Baby Samuel. Oh yeah, let me quickly give you the run-down on the stats: Samuel Levi Kenworthy, 5# 8oz, 18". Good deal of black hair. Pictures availalbe on Stacey's blog or website shortly I'm sure. Anyhow, this week's been one for the record book, so bear with me.
Where were we? Ah yes, so...back up a little. So, last Sunday, I let out to the airport in Salt Lake at O-Dark-Thirty. Stacey of course drove me, because I like to maximize my inconvenience to the family whenever I go TDY (Temporary Duty). So, I had her drive me to the airport at six AM on a Sunday, because she probably had nothing better to do but rest and prepare for two weeks without me, herding four (now five) children. But I digress. So, anyhow, she drops me off at the airport, after my little tirade the night before about not being able to find this or that and how I'm a tad stressed because of the need to go to a local neighborhood soire' instead of pack. 'Course, I do that to myself all the time right? I dont want to hurt anyone's feel-bads, and I know I'm going to have a good time, but it's really the night before a major undertaking and I just KNOW I'm going to be frantically searching for a GPS unit, or a Kevlar or some other piece of gear/clothing that is SUPPOSED to be in my closet or my Army Gear Trunk (see also: "BAD ASS PREPAREDNESS KIT") in the garage. OH yeah, I forgot to tell you, my Army stuff is not allowed in the house because it's messy and takes up too much space in the closet and would be better out of sight and therefore out of mind....which...is precisely why I can't find the crap I need the night prior to my skulking off into the dead of night to slit someone's administrative-throat.
I lost my train of thought, where were we? Ah yes. So, then I get to the airport, after a major detour off of Bangerter Highway, through the industrial area, to a picturesque part of 1700-ish South that I've never before visited. Perhaps sometime Stacey and I can go back there for a nice picnic or perhaps to take some family photos, but not today. Anyhow, so I report to the kiosk at the Delta Help Yourself and commence checking in. So I swipe my DELTA GOLD card (I'm...KIND of a BIG DEAL) and of course, it doesnt even register. So, I have to hand-jam in my number, just like the last forty-two times I've used their kiosk and swiped my card. Anyhow, I need the miles, so whatareyagonna do? Ya know? Anyhow, that's how I paid for Stacey's Hawaii ticket a few months ago was with my Sky Miles so...you go to war with the Gold Card you have, not the Gold Card ya want.
Anyhow, I check my bags, and look at Horatio, or..Geraldo, or..whatever his name is and making clear and distinct eye contact say, "So...my bags are checked all the way through to South Carolina right?" To which of course he waves his hand in the Jedi manner and tells me all is taken care of. These aren't the droids I'm looking for. Well, low and behold, I scan my ticket, and resultant from my Bigdealativity, I've been up-graded to first class. Things are looking up.
So, I get on the aircraft, sit down, have my complimentary snacks and what not and enjoy being in seat 1C, wherein every swingin' Richard that enters the plane hits me with their carry-on in the left side of my noggin as they go past as though this is the first time they've every seen over-head compartments or a space shuttle from the inside. Whatever. I'm in first class, and..you know what? By the way, why dont they put First Class at the BACK of the plane? Especially where there are sometimes two doors for exiting? Whatever, I'm not a design engineer nor a airline exec so what do I know right?
Where were you? Oh, you were riveted to my rant...yeah, so...anyhow, that flight goes into Detroit, and from Detroit I transfer (along with the common-folk) into a smaller aircraft with no first class arena and on into Columbia, South Cacalacky.
So, from thence, I skip on down into the baggage claim area, and pick up ONE...I said...ONE of my bags. The smaller of the two, the one with my uniforms, (sans boots and sans t-shirts)(which plays out later in our story). So...while I'm waiting for my second bag, I hop on over to the Hertz line adjacent to the baggage claim, (Insert Mirand Lambert Song) and check out my new, white, convertable Chrystler Seibring. Which, as it turns out, when you're driving around with another dude, makes you look like a total homosapien. (NOT..that there's anything WRONG with that). So, knowing I now have the ultimate antiquing vehicle, I'm just about set. Turns out, at the lost baggage counter, my particular bag (one of two lost on the entire flight) somehow made it's way to Houston, to visit some old college buddies and drink beer late into the evening. However, NOT to worry, this particular hub has two...count them, TWO flights coming in later in the evening, one of which will have my bag. Scout's Honor.
Fast forward to that evening, where I'm calling the 1-800, wondering where in Sam Hill my bag is, along with my boots and a nice tan t-shirt for tomorrow's opening festivities. So, long story longer, turns out my bag wadn't gonna make it. So I get the dubious honor of showing up to class (mind you as the student class leader) without the benefit of an actual uniform, new underwear, a shave....wearing yesterday's travel clothes (cowboy boots) and looking like a complete shlub.
*hold on, I gotta pee, hold that thought*
You were saying? No, I was...ok, sit down, it gets even more boring from here. Grab a Diet Coke for me too will ya? OK, so...I show up to class, with 24 fellow captain-type students from all over the world (U.S. Army only) and two Major's whom we come to find will be our, "Facilitators". Which, is the new term for, "Instructor". (It's a kinder, gentler Army). So, I of course apologize profusely for the second day I'm wearin' these underwear and the double-shot of, "Domain" cologne I had to use to cover this Saturday Wal-Mart wear in order to be ready to learn in style.
So, we introduce ourselves, I get my marching orders and we start into this class. Well, turns out we're supposed to have pictures on that day, and now I, as said Class Leader, am going to be the only one in boots and jeans and 2x the legal limit of Domain. Well, anyhow, after six introductions and welcomes to the school by everyone from the School Assistant Commandant to the janitor we finish out what could have been done at any Guard Armory across the 54 States and Territories in about....two hours. Only it took these pogues all damn day to do it. Oh, and half way into the next day too.
So, this whole week we've been giving each other briefings, using the school-house slides without personal knowledge of what the test may be geared toward, taking copious notes. Only, we're not allowed to use our notes during the tests. Which...aren't really tests... they're..."Assessments" which apparently is, "Ajutant General" speak for, "totally subjective review of your abilities". So, we're all a little frustrated to say the least. Mostly because the program of instruction has no syllabus, no clear expectations, and every "ass-es-ment" we've taken to date has been so nebulous that pretty much it tells us they're making this crap up on the fly. OH, I forgot to tell you, we're the, "test case" for the new course of instruction, and this is the very first time they've tried this. Comforting isn't it?
Anyhow, so my bag of course showed up, I climb into the warrior-suit and commence class-leading the hell out of these 24 capable and directed captains. Here's the problem though, in addition to the unclear expectations from the facililitators, we're also being force-fed a diet of training that really appears to be the same trash you'd feed a brand-spankin-new second lieutenant fresh off the turnup truck. Problem is, we've all been commissioned for eight or more years and been down-range and back and have our very own, "This One time, IN Iraq/Afghanistan" stories which all rival the paper-cut stories from our instruct...facilitator's. This one time, in Kuwait, when I was there for six months, NOT getting shot at...." Whatever.
So, meanwhile, while I wasn't pulling these captains off of the ceiling trying to keep a mutiny from taking place, Stacey get's admitted to the hostpital to be induced and Baby Samuel is born. So, now, I'm in this course, as the class leader, of 24 mutinous captains with PTSD, who are cordially invited to write, rewrite and potentially re-re-write their nebulous non-gradable assessments before working on a Saturday with no clear expectation of what the hell we're even trying to accomplish. I tell you what, if you're ever in charge of troops, dont waste their time. They can smell B.S. a mile away and we're about waist-deep in it at this point. OHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhh I forgot the best part. So, this U.S. Army (Active) Colonel comes in...mind you, to a classroom full of near-mutinous Guard and Reservists. He's the J-1 (Personnel Officer) for U.S. Army European Command. Only, we're not really even sure who invited him or what the hell he's trying to get across. I tell you, he told us more about how great he was and how he's single-handedly saved democracy (from..an....Administrative...standpoint) than McArthur or Eisenhower. THEN this jagazz proceeds to tell us how the Guard and Reserve are a thing of the past, and that we're going back to the old days where we all drank beer on the drill weekends and never deployed. CONTRARY to everything that the 3 star general he works for tries to make policy. So I'm like...*eeeeeeeeerp* Brake sounds...dude, you're done. I'm out. I'm not sure what he said after that, but you can be damned sure it was about how he once saved G.I. Joe's Personnel Records file from a burning building. Whatever.
Anyhow, so the stress has been up a tad, yeah, I get that. But, the flip side is I'm meeting some really cool people. REALLY cool people. We have a great class and everyone here is involved and willing to learn even if we have to teach ourselves.
Starting Monday, we all get the dubious honor of putting on Kevlar Helmets and some web-gear and walking across gravel in a make-shift training FOB (forward operating base) to a warehouse with a cube farm to practice what it's like to be a Battalion S-1 (personnel officer) in the...real world. Pardon me while I towel myself off from anticipatory sheen.
Anyhow, if you read this far I'm actually pretty amazed. I can't wait to get home and see your bright and shiny faces. I miss everyone back in the..."world" and can't wait to see my new son. I'm so excited. Of course I feel incredibly guilty about being away when he was born, but I'm so very very thankful for such an incredible spouse who makes it all look effortless.
So...I guess we're done now, and this is getting awkward and..since this IS my room, you..should...probably leave now.
All the best to you and yours.
Always,
J
Where were we? Ah yes, so...back up a little. So, last Sunday, I let out to the airport in Salt Lake at O-Dark-Thirty. Stacey of course drove me, because I like to maximize my inconvenience to the family whenever I go TDY (Temporary Duty). So, I had her drive me to the airport at six AM on a Sunday, because she probably had nothing better to do but rest and prepare for two weeks without me, herding four (now five) children. But I digress. So, anyhow, she drops me off at the airport, after my little tirade the night before about not being able to find this or that and how I'm a tad stressed because of the need to go to a local neighborhood soire' instead of pack. 'Course, I do that to myself all the time right? I dont want to hurt anyone's feel-bads, and I know I'm going to have a good time, but it's really the night before a major undertaking and I just KNOW I'm going to be frantically searching for a GPS unit, or a Kevlar or some other piece of gear/clothing that is SUPPOSED to be in my closet or my Army Gear Trunk (see also: "BAD ASS PREPAREDNESS KIT") in the garage. OH yeah, I forgot to tell you, my Army stuff is not allowed in the house because it's messy and takes up too much space in the closet and would be better out of sight and therefore out of mind....which...is precisely why I can't find the crap I need the night prior to my skulking off into the dead of night to slit someone's administrative-throat.
I lost my train of thought, where were we? Ah yes. So, then I get to the airport, after a major detour off of Bangerter Highway, through the industrial area, to a picturesque part of 1700-ish South that I've never before visited. Perhaps sometime Stacey and I can go back there for a nice picnic or perhaps to take some family photos, but not today. Anyhow, so I report to the kiosk at the Delta Help Yourself and commence checking in. So I swipe my DELTA GOLD card (I'm...KIND of a BIG DEAL) and of course, it doesnt even register. So, I have to hand-jam in my number, just like the last forty-two times I've used their kiosk and swiped my card. Anyhow, I need the miles, so whatareyagonna do? Ya know? Anyhow, that's how I paid for Stacey's Hawaii ticket a few months ago was with my Sky Miles so...you go to war with the Gold Card you have, not the Gold Card ya want.
Anyhow, I check my bags, and look at Horatio, or..Geraldo, or..whatever his name is and making clear and distinct eye contact say, "So...my bags are checked all the way through to South Carolina right?" To which of course he waves his hand in the Jedi manner and tells me all is taken care of. These aren't the droids I'm looking for. Well, low and behold, I scan my ticket, and resultant from my Bigdealativity, I've been up-graded to first class. Things are looking up.
So, I get on the aircraft, sit down, have my complimentary snacks and what not and enjoy being in seat 1C, wherein every swingin' Richard that enters the plane hits me with their carry-on in the left side of my noggin as they go past as though this is the first time they've every seen over-head compartments or a space shuttle from the inside. Whatever. I'm in first class, and..you know what? By the way, why dont they put First Class at the BACK of the plane? Especially where there are sometimes two doors for exiting? Whatever, I'm not a design engineer nor a airline exec so what do I know right?
Where were you? Oh, you were riveted to my rant...yeah, so...anyhow, that flight goes into Detroit, and from Detroit I transfer (along with the common-folk) into a smaller aircraft with no first class arena and on into Columbia, South Cacalacky.
So, from thence, I skip on down into the baggage claim area, and pick up ONE...I said...ONE of my bags. The smaller of the two, the one with my uniforms, (sans boots and sans t-shirts)(which plays out later in our story). So...while I'm waiting for my second bag, I hop on over to the Hertz line adjacent to the baggage claim, (Insert Mirand Lambert Song) and check out my new, white, convertable Chrystler Seibring. Which, as it turns out, when you're driving around with another dude, makes you look like a total homosapien. (NOT..that there's anything WRONG with that). So, knowing I now have the ultimate antiquing vehicle, I'm just about set. Turns out, at the lost baggage counter, my particular bag (one of two lost on the entire flight) somehow made it's way to Houston, to visit some old college buddies and drink beer late into the evening. However, NOT to worry, this particular hub has two...count them, TWO flights coming in later in the evening, one of which will have my bag. Scout's Honor.
Fast forward to that evening, where I'm calling the 1-800, wondering where in Sam Hill my bag is, along with my boots and a nice tan t-shirt for tomorrow's opening festivities. So, long story longer, turns out my bag wadn't gonna make it. So I get the dubious honor of showing up to class (mind you as the student class leader) without the benefit of an actual uniform, new underwear, a shave....wearing yesterday's travel clothes (cowboy boots) and looking like a complete shlub.
*hold on, I gotta pee, hold that thought*
You were saying? No, I was...ok, sit down, it gets even more boring from here. Grab a Diet Coke for me too will ya? OK, so...I show up to class, with 24 fellow captain-type students from all over the world (U.S. Army only) and two Major's whom we come to find will be our, "Facilitators". Which, is the new term for, "Instructor". (It's a kinder, gentler Army). So, I of course apologize profusely for the second day I'm wearin' these underwear and the double-shot of, "Domain" cologne I had to use to cover this Saturday Wal-Mart wear in order to be ready to learn in style.
So, we introduce ourselves, I get my marching orders and we start into this class. Well, turns out we're supposed to have pictures on that day, and now I, as said Class Leader, am going to be the only one in boots and jeans and 2x the legal limit of Domain. Well, anyhow, after six introductions and welcomes to the school by everyone from the School Assistant Commandant to the janitor we finish out what could have been done at any Guard Armory across the 54 States and Territories in about....two hours. Only it took these pogues all damn day to do it. Oh, and half way into the next day too.
So, this whole week we've been giving each other briefings, using the school-house slides without personal knowledge of what the test may be geared toward, taking copious notes. Only, we're not allowed to use our notes during the tests. Which...aren't really tests... they're..."Assessments" which apparently is, "Ajutant General" speak for, "totally subjective review of your abilities". So, we're all a little frustrated to say the least. Mostly because the program of instruction has no syllabus, no clear expectations, and every "ass-es-ment" we've taken to date has been so nebulous that pretty much it tells us they're making this crap up on the fly. OH, I forgot to tell you, we're the, "test case" for the new course of instruction, and this is the very first time they've tried this. Comforting isn't it?
Anyhow, so my bag of course showed up, I climb into the warrior-suit and commence class-leading the hell out of these 24 capable and directed captains. Here's the problem though, in addition to the unclear expectations from the facililitators, we're also being force-fed a diet of training that really appears to be the same trash you'd feed a brand-spankin-new second lieutenant fresh off the turnup truck. Problem is, we've all been commissioned for eight or more years and been down-range and back and have our very own, "This One time, IN Iraq/Afghanistan" stories which all rival the paper-cut stories from our instruct...facilitator's. This one time, in Kuwait, when I was there for six months, NOT getting shot at...." Whatever.
So, meanwhile, while I wasn't pulling these captains off of the ceiling trying to keep a mutiny from taking place, Stacey get's admitted to the hostpital to be induced and Baby Samuel is born. So, now, I'm in this course, as the class leader, of 24 mutinous captains with PTSD, who are cordially invited to write, rewrite and potentially re-re-write their nebulous non-gradable assessments before working on a Saturday with no clear expectation of what the hell we're even trying to accomplish. I tell you what, if you're ever in charge of troops, dont waste their time. They can smell B.S. a mile away and we're about waist-deep in it at this point. OHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhh I forgot the best part. So, this U.S. Army (Active) Colonel comes in...mind you, to a classroom full of near-mutinous Guard and Reservists. He's the J-1 (Personnel Officer) for U.S. Army European Command. Only, we're not really even sure who invited him or what the hell he's trying to get across. I tell you, he told us more about how great he was and how he's single-handedly saved democracy (from..an....Administrative...standpoint) than McArthur or Eisenhower. THEN this jagazz proceeds to tell us how the Guard and Reserve are a thing of the past, and that we're going back to the old days where we all drank beer on the drill weekends and never deployed. CONTRARY to everything that the 3 star general he works for tries to make policy. So I'm like...*eeeeeeeeerp* Brake sounds...dude, you're done. I'm out. I'm not sure what he said after that, but you can be damned sure it was about how he once saved G.I. Joe's Personnel Records file from a burning building. Whatever.
Anyhow, so the stress has been up a tad, yeah, I get that. But, the flip side is I'm meeting some really cool people. REALLY cool people. We have a great class and everyone here is involved and willing to learn even if we have to teach ourselves.
Starting Monday, we all get the dubious honor of putting on Kevlar Helmets and some web-gear and walking across gravel in a make-shift training FOB (forward operating base) to a warehouse with a cube farm to practice what it's like to be a Battalion S-1 (personnel officer) in the...real world. Pardon me while I towel myself off from anticipatory sheen.
Anyhow, if you read this far I'm actually pretty amazed. I can't wait to get home and see your bright and shiny faces. I miss everyone back in the..."world" and can't wait to see my new son. I'm so excited. Of course I feel incredibly guilty about being away when he was born, but I'm so very very thankful for such an incredible spouse who makes it all look effortless.
So...I guess we're done now, and this is getting awkward and..since this IS my room, you..should...probably leave now.
All the best to you and yours.
Always,
J
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Elk Season....
So there I was....28 degrees and hovering. Nothing but a pair of ninja jammies, a pull-over sweater, a Carhardt coat, a hunting vest, two pair of gloves, a sweet beanie, and a couple of guns. Alone, and unafraid in the wilderness. High atop the Wasatch looking down on Strawberry Reservoir and Highway 40. MILES behind enemy lines. Far from civilization, yet well within cell service to be honest. Anyhow, I was hunting the elusive Rocky Mountain Elk. Wapiti as some of my Native American counter-parts may have called him. "Cervus Canadensis." No, that's latin, I'm not talking naughty again. Anyhow, it's my absolute favorite time of year. Of course, I'd rather be hunting him in a nice sweater with camo on it, (it sets off my eyes just so) and a bow, but alas, t'wasn't in the cards this year.
See, this year, Josh again played football. Which I'm TOTALLY down with. Last year he had a horrendous season, and they lost every single game. This year, with a different coaching staff and some good ol' college enginuity, we were going to have a banner year as well. Only...they've lost all five games they've played. Or maybe it's six. I forget. Anyhow, there's like seven bucks in the, "Touchdown Bucket" that they pass around each time our kids make a touchdown. I imagine at the end of the season we'll have enough for a package of 12 hotdogs to throw a post-season party. No buns and home-made ketchup Eddie. Nothin' but the best Clark.
So, anyhow, I told you that, because it esplainas why we didnt go on the archery hunt when it was about forty degrees warmer. I love the archery hunt more, because it's traditionally during the rut (see also: "www.elk-in-luv.com") and because the bulls are out of their mind stupid chasing tail....get it..tail? Tail??? they're a lot easier to shoot. Come on, all is fair in luv and war. Let's be honest. It's not like you didnt get stupid once or twice chasin' a member of the opposite sex around campus. Unless of course you went to BYU, and then it's more of an amble at best. Nothing more than a trot for sure.
Anyhow, so I pulled the trailer over from our lot back to my dad's place on Strawberry. It's on the Soldier Creek side of the lake. Down on a peninsula. Which, is a funny word because I smirk every time I say it. "Pen-in-su-la" try it. It's funny. OK, I never grew up, so sue me. In KID court. Anyhow, so I am off on Fridays so I took the two oldest girls, a.k.a. "Alexia the Huntress" and "Isabelle the Terrible" up with me on Friday to recover the trailer and hit the opening morning hunt on Saturday. Saturday, see, as it turns out, IS a special day. It's the day that the elk have no idea they're being shot at until around noon when they go as high as elkinly possible and hide in the thickest underbrush imaginable for the rest of the month.
So, I took the aforementioned spirit walkers/Viking Princesses up in about three or four inches of snow and proceeded to walk, and walk, (and if you know the rest of the song, AAAAAAAAAND WAAAAALK. (Pioneer Children). See, I always tell my kids when they go out hunting, that pioneer children sang as they walked. So, they need to quit their yappin'. I mean, it's not like they're wearing bonnets and eating hard-tack, for crying out loud we're two miles from a major U.S. Highway! Anyhow, they're pretty good kids. So the girls and I saw a single cow and her calf, which were within my personal pistol range. OK, well I certainly would have scared the be-elkus out of them anyhow. So we put on another four miles or so (knee-deep snow, uphill, both directions) and then we saw a nice 4x4 bull and some cows. Oh, by the way, we're in a spike only unit, which means if the bull has more than one point on each side of his head you best not shoot him. So, anyhow, Isabelle the Terrible starts in again on how cold her little feet are. So, I sit down, in the snow...and pull her little boots off. Much to my chagrine, I find that her two socks (paper thin girl socks) are completely soaked and in very point of fact, freezing. So I pull off he socks in the "warm" 33 degree sun and literally rang them out. I'd say a good half-cup of water came out. Then I did the same for the other boot. By the way, they are the cutest little pink princess boots you've ever seen. But if pressed in public, I'd tell you they were too girly.
So, I gave Izzy my second set of gloves (duh, we're IN the Rocky Mountains!) to put on her feet and then put her wettish boots over the top. Then, in an act of pure love, and really with no other recourse, I put her up on my shoulders and proceeded to climb...and...climb...ANNNND CLIMB... the mountain we'd just come down. Took us over an hour to make it up about a 50 degree slope. I dont know how far it was really. Maybe 1000 yards, maybe more. But luckily we were doing it with all those coats on and the sun beginning to shine. Yeah, worked myself into a thick lather, just like you might see a BYU Coed who's been promised a 5 quart bucket of Chunky Munkey if she promises to remain chaste and virtuous. Anyhow, so I made it up to the ridgeline, wherein the wind began to blow, and the sweat, which now had made it through the second layer of coats was now beginning to evaporate at an exponential rate. Nice and chilly.
So, we made it down to the truck, just shy of two hours after I posted Izzy up on my shoulders. I am extremely happy to report that my little gal Lexi made it the entire way, without so much as pulling on my backpack up or down. I was really proud of my girls. After I made them lay down in the snow, get their butts and feet all sopping wet, and they didnt so much as complain every oh....three minutes or so. So it was a banner day.
So, after Josh's game he came up and we hunted Sunday all day. He of course packed his new 20 gauge shot gun and his small game license and even successfully downed a single forest grouse. That kid amazes me I tell you. Not so much as a single complaint from him. We hiked all over...five hours each morning and five hours each evening at a pretty good rate for 9000-10000 foot elevations. The kid simply amazes me. Well, alone one morning, I saw within pistol range six elk, however the bull running with them was a 3x3 and I had to pass on him. But all in all, our trucks got completely covered in thick mountain mud. We put chains on, we finagled ruts (the road kind, not the luv kind) and just had an amazing time.
We saddled up on Tuesday and then back over to our lot in Fruitland to plant about fifteen English Oak trees on our lot. That was fun. It was around fifty degrees and fairly level doing that so it wasn't that bad. Anyhow, around two I remembered Josh had practice that night and we high-tailed it out of there with the trailer and all the accoutrement for the season.
So, I guess you're caught up at this point. I'm not sure there's a venue for a question and answer period. Just know that a good time was had by all.
Well, as you've probably surmised, biscuits and gravy are awaitin' and I've got to get out there and clean that trailer in the driveway today.
Thanks for reading this far, you get points in Heaven for humoring me. Redeamable for nothing because it's Heaven and they dont take cash or American Express. I sorta believe that Chunky Munkey is the medium of barter. That's just a personal theory so dont belt that out in Sunday School.
OK, all the best and some of the worst your general direction.
Jon
See, this year, Josh again played football. Which I'm TOTALLY down with. Last year he had a horrendous season, and they lost every single game. This year, with a different coaching staff and some good ol' college enginuity, we were going to have a banner year as well. Only...they've lost all five games they've played. Or maybe it's six. I forget. Anyhow, there's like seven bucks in the, "Touchdown Bucket" that they pass around each time our kids make a touchdown. I imagine at the end of the season we'll have enough for a package of 12 hotdogs to throw a post-season party. No buns and home-made ketchup Eddie. Nothin' but the best Clark.
So, anyhow, I told you that, because it esplainas why we didnt go on the archery hunt when it was about forty degrees warmer. I love the archery hunt more, because it's traditionally during the rut (see also: "www.elk-in-luv.com") and because the bulls are out of their mind stupid chasing tail....get it..tail? Tail??? they're a lot easier to shoot. Come on, all is fair in luv and war. Let's be honest. It's not like you didnt get stupid once or twice chasin' a member of the opposite sex around campus. Unless of course you went to BYU, and then it's more of an amble at best. Nothing more than a trot for sure.
Anyhow, so I pulled the trailer over from our lot back to my dad's place on Strawberry. It's on the Soldier Creek side of the lake. Down on a peninsula. Which, is a funny word because I smirk every time I say it. "Pen-in-su-la" try it. It's funny. OK, I never grew up, so sue me. In KID court. Anyhow, so I am off on Fridays so I took the two oldest girls, a.k.a. "Alexia the Huntress" and "Isabelle the Terrible" up with me on Friday to recover the trailer and hit the opening morning hunt on Saturday. Saturday, see, as it turns out, IS a special day. It's the day that the elk have no idea they're being shot at until around noon when they go as high as elkinly possible and hide in the thickest underbrush imaginable for the rest of the month.
So, I took the aforementioned spirit walkers/Viking Princesses up in about three or four inches of snow and proceeded to walk, and walk, (and if you know the rest of the song, AAAAAAAAAND WAAAAALK. (Pioneer Children). See, I always tell my kids when they go out hunting, that pioneer children sang as they walked. So, they need to quit their yappin'. I mean, it's not like they're wearing bonnets and eating hard-tack, for crying out loud we're two miles from a major U.S. Highway! Anyhow, they're pretty good kids. So the girls and I saw a single cow and her calf, which were within my personal pistol range. OK, well I certainly would have scared the be-elkus out of them anyhow. So we put on another four miles or so (knee-deep snow, uphill, both directions) and then we saw a nice 4x4 bull and some cows. Oh, by the way, we're in a spike only unit, which means if the bull has more than one point on each side of his head you best not shoot him. So, anyhow, Isabelle the Terrible starts in again on how cold her little feet are. So, I sit down, in the snow...and pull her little boots off. Much to my chagrine, I find that her two socks (paper thin girl socks) are completely soaked and in very point of fact, freezing. So I pull off he socks in the "warm" 33 degree sun and literally rang them out. I'd say a good half-cup of water came out. Then I did the same for the other boot. By the way, they are the cutest little pink princess boots you've ever seen. But if pressed in public, I'd tell you they were too girly.
So, I gave Izzy my second set of gloves (duh, we're IN the Rocky Mountains!) to put on her feet and then put her wettish boots over the top. Then, in an act of pure love, and really with no other recourse, I put her up on my shoulders and proceeded to climb...and...climb...ANNNND CLIMB... the mountain we'd just come down. Took us over an hour to make it up about a 50 degree slope. I dont know how far it was really. Maybe 1000 yards, maybe more. But luckily we were doing it with all those coats on and the sun beginning to shine. Yeah, worked myself into a thick lather, just like you might see a BYU Coed who's been promised a 5 quart bucket of Chunky Munkey if she promises to remain chaste and virtuous. Anyhow, so I made it up to the ridgeline, wherein the wind began to blow, and the sweat, which now had made it through the second layer of coats was now beginning to evaporate at an exponential rate. Nice and chilly.
So, we made it down to the truck, just shy of two hours after I posted Izzy up on my shoulders. I am extremely happy to report that my little gal Lexi made it the entire way, without so much as pulling on my backpack up or down. I was really proud of my girls. After I made them lay down in the snow, get their butts and feet all sopping wet, and they didnt so much as complain every oh....three minutes or so. So it was a banner day.
So, after Josh's game he came up and we hunted Sunday all day. He of course packed his new 20 gauge shot gun and his small game license and even successfully downed a single forest grouse. That kid amazes me I tell you. Not so much as a single complaint from him. We hiked all over...five hours each morning and five hours each evening at a pretty good rate for 9000-10000 foot elevations. The kid simply amazes me. Well, alone one morning, I saw within pistol range six elk, however the bull running with them was a 3x3 and I had to pass on him. But all in all, our trucks got completely covered in thick mountain mud. We put chains on, we finagled ruts (the road kind, not the luv kind) and just had an amazing time.
We saddled up on Tuesday and then back over to our lot in Fruitland to plant about fifteen English Oak trees on our lot. That was fun. It was around fifty degrees and fairly level doing that so it wasn't that bad. Anyhow, around two I remembered Josh had practice that night and we high-tailed it out of there with the trailer and all the accoutrement for the season.
So, I guess you're caught up at this point. I'm not sure there's a venue for a question and answer period. Just know that a good time was had by all.
Well, as you've probably surmised, biscuits and gravy are awaitin' and I've got to get out there and clean that trailer in the driveway today.
Thanks for reading this far, you get points in Heaven for humoring me. Redeamable for nothing because it's Heaven and they dont take cash or American Express. I sorta believe that Chunky Munkey is the medium of barter. That's just a personal theory so dont belt that out in Sunday School.
OK, all the best and some of the worst your general direction.
Jon
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Hey there...
Hey, how you been? Gosh, it's been a while eh? What's it been? Five, six days? Well let's get you up-to-speed shall we? OK, start off with today, then we can bounce backward, maybe hit some stuff in the middle, back to the beginning and then tie in the end? Sound good to you? Good.
So, today I've been working on an award for a high up muckity-muck. Yeah, I can't go into whom on accounta it's a secret for that individual and one of you would just go and blab that you heard about it and ruin it. Anyhow, I got the tasking last Saturday on my Crackberry from the Chief of Staff and my boss the G-1 (Personnel). So, you dont exactly get to choose your taskings or priorities when you're in such proximity to the flag pole. So, Monday morning I tried to talk the Chief out of it, and he of course reset my opinion back to True North for me. He's kind like that. Anyhow, so I wrote the award on Tuesday and then had it rewritten for me on Wednesday, then again I re-re-rewrote it today. Suffice it to say, when you have so many Chiefs (pardon the pun) it gets old bein' the indian. But dont worry, I always liked that part about you. I prefer ONE Chief, many indians. Good wompum. Hummm. Anyhow, it pretty much took up all of my week, and interspersed betwixt all that, I had to put in my travel for my upcoming course in October, fix a mobilization order, Command some stuff, and interview replacement commanders. I tell you, no rest for the wicked.
So, I also, in order to survive, Facebooked (to use it as a verb) a grundle this week. You may or may not have seen my efforts. It's tough for me to focus at work as I have a severe case of adult ADHD. Or maybe it's ACDC, I cant remember. Anyhow, I can focus on not less than three things simultaneously. Couple that with a steady stream of people walking into my office and people waiting in the hall, it gets really difficult to stay on one thing for more than about a minute and a half. Oh, that reminds me. The Chaplain. He's a good guy right? But he comes back around every now and again to check on me. See, I made the mistake of telling him about an issue I was dealing with, and now I'm on his rotational rounds. He's just missing the clipboard. Plus he gets mad at me for not coming to visit him, in which I wonder, 'when would I have time'???
So, OHHHHHHHHHH man, the best PART! So tomorrow I'm headed up elk hunting. I. AM. STO-KED!!! seriously I LOVE elk hunting. This year I'm taking my pistol. My .45 Long Colt. Dad's going to loan me a .45 LC Rifle of his, it's a lever-action and just a beautiful rifle. It's a Henry Golden Boy and just a pleasure to shoot. Going to be even better putting a round through some spike elk I imagine. Did I mention I LOVE elk hunting? Oh man. The snow is falling in the higher elevations and with any luck, I'll be stuck in colder weather all the way through and including Tuesday or Wednesday. I took all of next week off and dont really have to make an appearance until Saturday of next for drill. In which I'll conduct a change of command with an as-yet un-named successor.
Gosh I dont know what else to tell you really. I think you're about caught up. OH except I bought two 250 gallon water tanks to put up at the lot. One is going to be on a metal stand and gravity feed into the trailer, and the other is to fill up and haul water in. I tell you, I feel like I'm taming the frontier. I practically killed me a Bar, when I was only three. Lever-action guns, hauling water, mountains, snow....with any luck, snowshoes. It's like I'm living my own private version of Jeremiah Johnson (Great show by the way) I have it if you need to borrow it.
OK now I probably left something out, but you know it's only because I forgot because I'm so excited. I'm packing tonight and I'll leave after I register the truck manana. First the reinspection at Jiffy Lube, then the on-the-spot renewal, and nothing but a vapor trail from me for five days. Oh, last thing, do me a flavor, say a little prayer for Josh and his team. They really need it. I'm going to miss this game, mostly because my priorities are all screwed up, but I really want him to kick butt and take names. The entire team. They need the confidence boost. So, anyhow, while you're sayin' your prayers tonight, thanking the Man Upstairs for all the gifts we've been given, through a little request out there for my little man.
K, seriously, Dora is now full-blast, piano lessons are about to end and I gotta get to my job as an invested father, husband and friend. All the best to you and your'en.
J
So, today I've been working on an award for a high up muckity-muck. Yeah, I can't go into whom on accounta it's a secret for that individual and one of you would just go and blab that you heard about it and ruin it. Anyhow, I got the tasking last Saturday on my Crackberry from the Chief of Staff and my boss the G-1 (Personnel). So, you dont exactly get to choose your taskings or priorities when you're in such proximity to the flag pole. So, Monday morning I tried to talk the Chief out of it, and he of course reset my opinion back to True North for me. He's kind like that. Anyhow, so I wrote the award on Tuesday and then had it rewritten for me on Wednesday, then again I re-re-rewrote it today. Suffice it to say, when you have so many Chiefs (pardon the pun) it gets old bein' the indian. But dont worry, I always liked that part about you. I prefer ONE Chief, many indians. Good wompum. Hummm. Anyhow, it pretty much took up all of my week, and interspersed betwixt all that, I had to put in my travel for my upcoming course in October, fix a mobilization order, Command some stuff, and interview replacement commanders. I tell you, no rest for the wicked.
So, I also, in order to survive, Facebooked (to use it as a verb) a grundle this week. You may or may not have seen my efforts. It's tough for me to focus at work as I have a severe case of adult ADHD. Or maybe it's ACDC, I cant remember. Anyhow, I can focus on not less than three things simultaneously. Couple that with a steady stream of people walking into my office and people waiting in the hall, it gets really difficult to stay on one thing for more than about a minute and a half. Oh, that reminds me. The Chaplain. He's a good guy right? But he comes back around every now and again to check on me. See, I made the mistake of telling him about an issue I was dealing with, and now I'm on his rotational rounds. He's just missing the clipboard. Plus he gets mad at me for not coming to visit him, in which I wonder, 'when would I have time'???
So, OHHHHHHHHHH man, the best PART! So tomorrow I'm headed up elk hunting. I. AM. STO-KED!!! seriously I LOVE elk hunting. This year I'm taking my pistol. My .45 Long Colt. Dad's going to loan me a .45 LC Rifle of his, it's a lever-action and just a beautiful rifle. It's a Henry Golden Boy and just a pleasure to shoot. Going to be even better putting a round through some spike elk I imagine. Did I mention I LOVE elk hunting? Oh man. The snow is falling in the higher elevations and with any luck, I'll be stuck in colder weather all the way through and including Tuesday or Wednesday. I took all of next week off and dont really have to make an appearance until Saturday of next for drill. In which I'll conduct a change of command with an as-yet un-named successor.
Gosh I dont know what else to tell you really. I think you're about caught up. OH except I bought two 250 gallon water tanks to put up at the lot. One is going to be on a metal stand and gravity feed into the trailer, and the other is to fill up and haul water in. I tell you, I feel like I'm taming the frontier. I practically killed me a Bar, when I was only three. Lever-action guns, hauling water, mountains, snow....with any luck, snowshoes. It's like I'm living my own private version of Jeremiah Johnson (Great show by the way) I have it if you need to borrow it.
OK now I probably left something out, but you know it's only because I forgot because I'm so excited. I'm packing tonight and I'll leave after I register the truck manana. First the reinspection at Jiffy Lube, then the on-the-spot renewal, and nothing but a vapor trail from me for five days. Oh, last thing, do me a flavor, say a little prayer for Josh and his team. They really need it. I'm going to miss this game, mostly because my priorities are all screwed up, but I really want him to kick butt and take names. The entire team. They need the confidence boost. So, anyhow, while you're sayin' your prayers tonight, thanking the Man Upstairs for all the gifts we've been given, through a little request out there for my little man.
K, seriously, Dora is now full-blast, piano lessons are about to end and I gotta get to my job as an invested father, husband and friend. All the best to you and your'en.
J
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Good morning
Hey, I just wanted to tell you good morning. I've been busy lately so I haven't had much time. Life is what happens while you're busy making plans right? Oh man, where to start? Well of course this week has been standard off-the-shelf normal. Football practice three nights a week, dance, piano lessons, kids off track. Today Josh has a game and I really want them to do well. We've scored two touchdowns in four games and it's a little discouraging. Well, to be fair they were playing, "up" for those teams meaning that they were out of our league...well...sorta. Anyhow, today starts the regular season play. I'm excited for Josh. I'd much rather watch one of my son's games than any other sporting event. Stacey laughs because the entire season I've got a hoarse voice from yelling from the sidelines. It honestly takes over me. I've had to excuse myself to go get a conciliatory Diet Luv just to cope with the stress of linemen not firing off or handoff's gone awry and missed tackles. Yeah, I'm THAT dad.
So, anyhow, last night we had an end of Summer BBQ in the Clique de Sac. That's what they're calling it now. Wrench (AKA "Greg") termed it that. So we dragged out three grills and some tables and chairs and just went to town. I learned yesterday that 100.7 is, "the COOLEST" radio station. Which, now that 99.1 doesnt play my old country favorites could be entirely possible. Oh, I took the ATV in to have it worked on. It was having electrical issues and I expected that the Flux Capicitor was broken and it might be around three hundred bucks to fix it. Turns out, it was just the battery terminal ends thingies. Sixty bucks. Same day service. *sigh of relief* Now I have the money to take Big Green in for some necessary services. One of which are the tie-rod ends, and the other is the fact that she failed inspection on her braking. Yeah, apparently all FOUR tires are supposed to brake. WHATEVER, I say. Brakes are a crutch for people who can't anticipate light changes and down-shift.
So, I'm thinking I may sell Green. Dont tell her I said that. But we've plain outgrown her. We're literally out of seatbelts once the little one comes. So, our next option is the dreaded Suburban or an Excursion. I'd really like one in a Diesel. It makes sense to sell Green, but I hate to part with her. Kind of running out of places to park vehicles too. Anyhow, we'll figure it out. Dont you worry your pretty little heads about it.
So, I guess, you're about up to speed at this point. I didnt start any fights this week. I've been reverent in church. I've minded my p's and q's and I've even tried really really hard to be a good husband. I'm giving myself a B+ this week. Marked down for getting my butt handed to me, *again* at racquetball and marked back up for being who and what I should be.
OK, seriously, you know I love you to pieces. I wish ya all the best. This one is anticlimatic at best, but I'm pretty sure that's just what the doctor ordered for our platonic situation. ;)
Alright, pick a favorite song to set the tone. I gotta bounce. Josh is making the sausage and the biscuits are done. I'm friggin' starvin'. All the best, be good and keep fighting the good fight.
Always,
J
So, anyhow, last night we had an end of Summer BBQ in the Clique de Sac. That's what they're calling it now. Wrench (AKA "Greg") termed it that. So we dragged out three grills and some tables and chairs and just went to town. I learned yesterday that 100.7 is, "the COOLEST" radio station. Which, now that 99.1 doesnt play my old country favorites could be entirely possible. Oh, I took the ATV in to have it worked on. It was having electrical issues and I expected that the Flux Capicitor was broken and it might be around three hundred bucks to fix it. Turns out, it was just the battery terminal ends thingies. Sixty bucks. Same day service. *sigh of relief* Now I have the money to take Big Green in for some necessary services. One of which are the tie-rod ends, and the other is the fact that she failed inspection on her braking. Yeah, apparently all FOUR tires are supposed to brake. WHATEVER, I say. Brakes are a crutch for people who can't anticipate light changes and down-shift.
So, I'm thinking I may sell Green. Dont tell her I said that. But we've plain outgrown her. We're literally out of seatbelts once the little one comes. So, our next option is the dreaded Suburban or an Excursion. I'd really like one in a Diesel. It makes sense to sell Green, but I hate to part with her. Kind of running out of places to park vehicles too. Anyhow, we'll figure it out. Dont you worry your pretty little heads about it.
So, I guess, you're about up to speed at this point. I didnt start any fights this week. I've been reverent in church. I've minded my p's and q's and I've even tried really really hard to be a good husband. I'm giving myself a B+ this week. Marked down for getting my butt handed to me, *again* at racquetball and marked back up for being who and what I should be.
OK, seriously, you know I love you to pieces. I wish ya all the best. This one is anticlimatic at best, but I'm pretty sure that's just what the doctor ordered for our platonic situation. ;)
Alright, pick a favorite song to set the tone. I gotta bounce. Josh is making the sausage and the biscuits are done. I'm friggin' starvin'. All the best, be good and keep fighting the good fight.
Always,
J
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Avalanche and El Douche'...
So, there I was, no chit...seven miles behind enemy lines. With nothing more than a Bic razor and a mirror. So, we have a shaver right? So, I'm looking at my haircut in the mirror about a week or so ago. I have to cut my hair about every ten days. Which, even with a military discount gets expensive. So, of course I tip when I can find someone who can cut a good fade. Not everyone can so when you find that person you become a repeat customer. Anyhow, the last time I went in, I had that dude I may have blogged about earlier, not sure. No wait, that was Face Book. Anyhow, homeslice showed up just prior to me at the, "Rockstar" barbershop/salon in Draper. So, they're supposed to open at 0900. I showed up at 0905 to find this guy sitting in his Chevy Avalanche. So, I knew of course he was, 'in-line' and I wasnt too worried about it. Anyhow, after about ten minutes of waiting, I finally see there are people inside stirring around. So, of course I get out, and look through the door and point to the handle. So, anyhow, as I'm walking over to the door, el douche' makes his way over to the door to beat me there. Whatever, normally that wouldnt be a big deal.
OK, let me back up a little. So, this guy, as I sat in the parking lot two stalls away, was in his 100% fully "wrapped" Chevy Avalanche. It's wrapped with the logo of the company he obviously works for. "Immortal Sheds". But, I catch a look at this guy, and he's got these aviator-style glasses on and this girlish hair hanging ever-so-carefully coiffed over them on one side. A real pretty boy. Anyhow, so as he gets out, he's about I dont know, six three or so. He's got a Don Johnson five day beard and about four different shades of pretty-boy blonde hair in there intentionally trying to make him look like he just woke up. So, he's wearing this designer T shirt with a big cross on it, and he's got flame tattoos leaking down his arms. But, my first instinct, which proved to be correct, was that he was a total poser. So, anyhow, I get to the door, and he puffs up his chest and tries to look down at me. Of course I'm in uniform so I'm in "whatever" mode. So anyhow, El Douche' then GRABS for the handle before I can get to it. Which, for the record I was going to hold open for him, in acknowledgement that he was there first.
So anyhow, he says, "Hey" with a tough-guy head nod and makes his way in and immediately announces his arrival to Julie. So, unbeknownst to El Douche', Julie and I have actually had many conversations about how much she despises the guys that are more prissy than girls with their hair. Anyhow, the other lady (there were two) proceedes to invite me back. So, I'm sitting there in the chair, and I can hear this guy, giving her instructions. IMPLICIT instructions on the subtle nuances of El Douche'-ism and the proper care and feeding of his boy-band hair. So, I'm listening to this crap and Sarah, or June or whatever asks me what I want. So I say, "Skin on the sides, medium fade. Fingerlength on top." Done. D-U-N DONE.
So, I'm sitting there listening to this candy-ass go on and on and I actually hear Julie say, "I dont FEEL like that's what we want to do here, and she's pulling on his bangs and stuff like she would if they were characters in Steele Magnolias. So, by now, I'm putting together his banty-rooster posturing out front, and my disdain for his self-absorbancy (like Bounty, the Quicker Picker Upper) is really starting to piss me off. So, I start saying louder to my haircut girl, "yeah, whatever, if it's too short it'll grow back in a few days. Whatever" and of course I lay it on as thick as I can as to what a giant pussy this guy is, in contrast to what a real fellah would ask for when sitting in the chair. I'm actually getting rather heated, because he just has that air about him that he honest-to-goodness believes he's all that and a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. So, knowing I'm in uniform and I can't afford to clean his clock, I continue minimizing my haircut in ever-increasing volume, erstwhile watching him through the mirror, and letting him know with my eyes that some people might fall for his cock-of-the-walk persona, but I aint buyin' it.
Anyhow, so she rinses my hair and I put axle grease or some other petroleum based product in it and walk out. But while I'm walking out, I see on the front of his Douche' Mobile, he has a chain wrapped through the front grill of his girl truck. Like seriously? You couldnt just drive a pink Barbie Jeep? Who the hell are you trying to fool fellah? I'll betcha you dont even have a six-cylinder in that thing. What the HELL are you going to tow with that? Are you going to come along and see some old lady in a Prius stuck in 1" of snow and pull her out? REALLY?! What an ass. Seriously dude, if there is a woman in your life, for more than about three weeks, I'm guessing your not closing the deal all that often. I'm guessing that you also have to tell them that you fly helicopters or that you own a giant boat at Lake Powell or something. Seriously? THAT is your Mac??? Dude. I actually pity you. NO kidding. You've almost convinced yourself that you're that tough.
I think what it is for me are the banty roosters that think somehow that they are intimidating. Like...perhaps being good at basketball in fourth grade somehow makes you a bad-ass at 39. I think the other thing that bothers me, is that they've enjoyed a relatively safe environment in Utah where relatively few people call them on it. It's not all that often that someone just puts your dink in the dirt for being an assbag. OK, so this sounds a little harsh I get it. But really when you've stood shoulder to shoulder with guys who really CAN do that, you dont fall for the posers. They pretty much run at the first sight of trouble. These are the guys that lay down on the soccer field wrything in "pain" to get a Red Card for the opposing team! First off, what the HELL is a Red Card? Like...a card makes me stop wanting to pummel you into fine-grain powder if you piss me off???! Yeah, NOT gonna work. No way in God's Green Earth you can convince me soccer is an actual sport. SOCCER is a way for you to keep your cardio in balance in the off-season. It's not an end-state it's an intermediate distraction at best.
OK, so where was I? So, oh yeah. Anyhow, so this past week, I was looking at myself in the mirror, dreading the haircut. So I thought I'd cut it with the clippers. 1/4 inch guide. So I put the guide on, run it over through and around and down and was dissatisfied with the results. So then I took the guide off, and just took it off. By that time, I realized, who we kidding? So I just Bic'd it. Anyhow, it's all gone. I've shaved it about five more times since then. Gotta tell you, I personally am starting to like it.
So, here's the funny thing. Not everyone likes it. Yeah, I know, you're shocked. But it turns out, that of the 50 or so people that have voluntarily offered their criticism, only about 1/5 of those really say they like it. But the other thing is, the amount of emotional recoiling I've witnessed by some. I've literally had some of the ladies in the office put their hands over their mouths and gasp and almost cry. I'm not really sure why MY hair has caused THEIR emotional reaction, but whatever.
Anyhow, so I better close I guess. Suffice it to say, it's been a surprising week. I've enjoyed a lot of good-natured ribbing and offered some in retaliation too. I think the best part about it, is that the people I work with, those people who genuinely put it all on the line, they got my back. Even if they poke fun, or make posters and powerpoint poke-fun, they've got my back. They're not like El Douche' who parades around in his designer pretty-girl bottom-bling jeans. These are people with honor and concern for others.
OK, really, I'm out. Just...know I got your back if you need me. Sorry if I said naughty words and offended your sensibilities. I'm at best a work in progress. But here's the deal, I'll tell you straight up where I think we stand with each other and you can always count on me for that.
OK, seriously go now, you're starting to piss me off. You dont want any of this. Trust me.
Always,
J
OK, let me back up a little. So, this guy, as I sat in the parking lot two stalls away, was in his 100% fully "wrapped" Chevy Avalanche. It's wrapped with the logo of the company he obviously works for. "Immortal Sheds". But, I catch a look at this guy, and he's got these aviator-style glasses on and this girlish hair hanging ever-so-carefully coiffed over them on one side. A real pretty boy. Anyhow, so as he gets out, he's about I dont know, six three or so. He's got a Don Johnson five day beard and about four different shades of pretty-boy blonde hair in there intentionally trying to make him look like he just woke up. So, he's wearing this designer T shirt with a big cross on it, and he's got flame tattoos leaking down his arms. But, my first instinct, which proved to be correct, was that he was a total poser. So, anyhow, I get to the door, and he puffs up his chest and tries to look down at me. Of course I'm in uniform so I'm in "whatever" mode. So anyhow, El Douche' then GRABS for the handle before I can get to it. Which, for the record I was going to hold open for him, in acknowledgement that he was there first.
So anyhow, he says, "Hey" with a tough-guy head nod and makes his way in and immediately announces his arrival to Julie. So, unbeknownst to El Douche', Julie and I have actually had many conversations about how much she despises the guys that are more prissy than girls with their hair. Anyhow, the other lady (there were two) proceedes to invite me back. So, I'm sitting there in the chair, and I can hear this guy, giving her instructions. IMPLICIT instructions on the subtle nuances of El Douche'-ism and the proper care and feeding of his boy-band hair. So, I'm listening to this crap and Sarah, or June or whatever asks me what I want. So I say, "Skin on the sides, medium fade. Fingerlength on top." Done. D-U-N DONE.
So, I'm sitting there listening to this candy-ass go on and on and I actually hear Julie say, "I dont FEEL like that's what we want to do here, and she's pulling on his bangs and stuff like she would if they were characters in Steele Magnolias. So, by now, I'm putting together his banty-rooster posturing out front, and my disdain for his self-absorbancy (like Bounty, the Quicker Picker Upper) is really starting to piss me off. So, I start saying louder to my haircut girl, "yeah, whatever, if it's too short it'll grow back in a few days. Whatever" and of course I lay it on as thick as I can as to what a giant pussy this guy is, in contrast to what a real fellah would ask for when sitting in the chair. I'm actually getting rather heated, because he just has that air about him that he honest-to-goodness believes he's all that and a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. So, knowing I'm in uniform and I can't afford to clean his clock, I continue minimizing my haircut in ever-increasing volume, erstwhile watching him through the mirror, and letting him know with my eyes that some people might fall for his cock-of-the-walk persona, but I aint buyin' it.
Anyhow, so she rinses my hair and I put axle grease or some other petroleum based product in it and walk out. But while I'm walking out, I see on the front of his Douche' Mobile, he has a chain wrapped through the front grill of his girl truck. Like seriously? You couldnt just drive a pink Barbie Jeep? Who the hell are you trying to fool fellah? I'll betcha you dont even have a six-cylinder in that thing. What the HELL are you going to tow with that? Are you going to come along and see some old lady in a Prius stuck in 1" of snow and pull her out? REALLY?! What an ass. Seriously dude, if there is a woman in your life, for more than about three weeks, I'm guessing your not closing the deal all that often. I'm guessing that you also have to tell them that you fly helicopters or that you own a giant boat at Lake Powell or something. Seriously? THAT is your Mac??? Dude. I actually pity you. NO kidding. You've almost convinced yourself that you're that tough.
I think what it is for me are the banty roosters that think somehow that they are intimidating. Like...perhaps being good at basketball in fourth grade somehow makes you a bad-ass at 39. I think the other thing that bothers me, is that they've enjoyed a relatively safe environment in Utah where relatively few people call them on it. It's not all that often that someone just puts your dink in the dirt for being an assbag. OK, so this sounds a little harsh I get it. But really when you've stood shoulder to shoulder with guys who really CAN do that, you dont fall for the posers. They pretty much run at the first sight of trouble. These are the guys that lay down on the soccer field wrything in "pain" to get a Red Card for the opposing team! First off, what the HELL is a Red Card? Like...a card makes me stop wanting to pummel you into fine-grain powder if you piss me off???! Yeah, NOT gonna work. No way in God's Green Earth you can convince me soccer is an actual sport. SOCCER is a way for you to keep your cardio in balance in the off-season. It's not an end-state it's an intermediate distraction at best.
OK, so where was I? So, oh yeah. Anyhow, so this past week, I was looking at myself in the mirror, dreading the haircut. So I thought I'd cut it with the clippers. 1/4 inch guide. So I put the guide on, run it over through and around and down and was dissatisfied with the results. So then I took the guide off, and just took it off. By that time, I realized, who we kidding? So I just Bic'd it. Anyhow, it's all gone. I've shaved it about five more times since then. Gotta tell you, I personally am starting to like it.
So, here's the funny thing. Not everyone likes it. Yeah, I know, you're shocked. But it turns out, that of the 50 or so people that have voluntarily offered their criticism, only about 1/5 of those really say they like it. But the other thing is, the amount of emotional recoiling I've witnessed by some. I've literally had some of the ladies in the office put their hands over their mouths and gasp and almost cry. I'm not really sure why MY hair has caused THEIR emotional reaction, but whatever.
Anyhow, so I better close I guess. Suffice it to say, it's been a surprising week. I've enjoyed a lot of good-natured ribbing and offered some in retaliation too. I think the best part about it, is that the people I work with, those people who genuinely put it all on the line, they got my back. Even if they poke fun, or make posters and powerpoint poke-fun, they've got my back. They're not like El Douche' who parades around in his designer pretty-girl bottom-bling jeans. These are people with honor and concern for others.
OK, really, I'm out. Just...know I got your back if you need me. Sorry if I said naughty words and offended your sensibilities. I'm at best a work in progress. But here's the deal, I'll tell you straight up where I think we stand with each other and you can always count on me for that.
OK, seriously go now, you're starting to piss me off. You dont want any of this. Trust me.
Always,
J
Monday, September 19, 2011
Addictions....
Hey guys (n' gals). Hope things have been great for you lately. I've been busy. We had Governor's Day this past weekend and then drill again on Sunday. It's been busy. I had Friday off last week, and ran around getting stuff done for the house. You know, the standard. Working on a sprinkler, cleaning out the garage, the usual. So I guess I dont really have much to report to be honest with you.
Except maybe today. Today was an interesting day. Today I counseled a Soldier who's potential got a drinking problem. Really odd actually, because last week we listened to a comedian come and talk to us about his own personal issues involving alcohol and drug use and the loss of his brother to suicide. Anyhow, this Soldier within my command has a drinking issue. She uses alcohol to soothe whatever issues she's dealing with. Coupled with some prescription drug use for some pretty heavy back issues, this is a recipe for disaster.
Well, the First Sergeant and I, together with our Drug and Alcohol Abuse specialist and this Soldier's first-line leader sat down to talk. It was an intervention really. The Soldier admitted to her boss that she's drank to excess, pretty much nightly and often mixes the affects of the pain medications as a result. She's got a serious problem. My job as the commander is of course to offer the Soldier help, but to uphold the requirements of military service within my command.
Well, I'll be honest. I didnt expect this Soldier to own most of this. She did exactly what I expected. Minimized the usage, and denied the one-time use of marijuana. Personally, I dont understand marijuana usage, so I have no frame of reference as to it's draw. I just plain disagree with it's use. Alcohol in moderation doesnt bother me so I get the ability to waiver on the use of it. So, this Soldier pretty well broke down and got emotional. Denied the over-use and was interested in "clearing her name". Of course she was worried about an in-patient recovery option as well as her standing in the organization. We really were there to help her and I sincerely hope she understands that.
I guess today I saw a little bit of my own challenges in this Soldier that I've personally dealt with. I dont have issues with alcohol or drugs. I dont have issues with most things. But I know what addiction is all about. I've been there. I've lived it and I'd say I honestly am not sure I'll ever be, "cured". Addiction and acceptance of our own weaknesses and challenges really means that we'll never be, "ok" or normal in that regard again. Personally I have some challenges which are always going to affect me. The worst part about addiction, is that it never goes away. You can't "un-learn" what you know. You know EXACTLY how to get what you want to feel. You know the results will be immediate. They will be lasting, and they will leave you hollow once it wears off. The other thing about addiction, is that it's so powerful, you actually consider it on almost a daily basis as your method of coping. See, my personal addiction consumed me. It owned everything about me. I didnt care about anyone or anything as much as I did feeling that, "drug". I was able to rationalize just about anything I needed to in order to maintain it. What's horrible about it, is that you know it's wrong. You know the potential danger, and you still choose to pursue it. You get to a point, while you're trying to find the deep-end of the pool, that you can't touch the bottom anymore.
It's a wonderfully horrible feeling to be helpless to something. Especially when it's packaged in such a way that you can start justifying how you've always been and behaved before. You can honestly say, "that's just how I am. I dont have a problem, it's everyone else that does." But of course you know better. When you're involved in an addiction, you tell yourself that it's just you that you're affecting. You alone bear the burden and you alone will pay the price. But that's never the case. It can't be. That's the lie. All of use are loved by so many people around us. Some of these addictions can be so damaging that they change who we are fundamentally as a person.
So, as I sat there, I thought about my own challenges. How daily I have to run through a checklist. I weigh and re-weigh the options periodically. What will this mean if I do. Can I beat this? Will it always own me, or will I ever be in charge? That's the initial shock to it. The belief that it's always going to own you. Also, you realize there's a part of you that must stay completely away from any semblance of a relationship with what affects you. Alcoholics can't have, "just one" drink. I can't have "just one..." That's tough. Especially when you think you're, "cured". 'Cause, as an addict, you never will be. It's always going to be your individual challenge.
So, I probably said way too much here. My point is that I understand this young Soldier. I understand she's not as yet willing to admit she's powerless in one or more aspects of her life. I understand that she may not get there for a while. It's a bitter pill to swallow when you fancy yourself as a warrior to admit there's something you can't do on your own. We're taught to never accept defeat. Never give up. Asking for help is tantamount to failure as a Soldier. That's a scary thought.
Today I choose to believe you have to be stronger to stay away from those things that affect you. There's nothing wrong with admitting a weakness for something. Especially when it keeps you on the straight-and-narrow. To me, I know I have challenges now. I know that I have been given a vast array of talents. But there are some things which can be used against me by the adversary, that would ordinarily be considered a talent.
So, this Soldier, is at a crossroads of sorts. It's been brought about publically which really makes someone put their sheilds up. She didnt exactly come forward of her own accord, but certainly others saw her spiralling out of control.
I dont have an answer how this is going to turn out for this individual. I personally think she'll be, "strong" and admit her own weaknesses and challenges. I think she'll avail herself of the help available from those that care about her. I think she'll come out of this a much stronger individual than she was before. I think that's been the case for me. In many ways things are so much clearer than they have ever been before. However, that comes at a cost. That cost is admittance that I have an issue and a personal challenge that is not easily understood by many, but affects me greatly. I also have to admit that I have ownership of it, and that I have control if I choose to. I no longer have the luxury of, "that's just me and you have to accept the reality of it." My challenge is not something I'm particularly proud of being involved in, but I now in retrospect see a pattern I've been quietly following all my life. It's now up to me to decide to no longer accept the excuses and do something about it. I've got to own it.
Addictions of any sort can be so humiliating to admit. First to ourselves. That's the most difficult part. The other part is to admit it to those that care the most about us. Guess what? Those that truly matter never stop loving us. They may not understand it, but they will certainly try and help us over it. I think that's the other thing. You can't do it alone. Oh believe me. Oh, and you can't beat it with someone just like you. DONT EVER TRY THAT!!! "Dr. Heal thy self", is a prescription for failure. I guess to me that's like one crack-addict trying to convince another crack-addict to stop. Just doesnt work out that way.
So, my point in all this, is yeah, I understand her plight. BELIEVE me. It's humiliating to have always been the helper, and now have to become the help-ee. But, I've done it. I feel great. I really do. I know I'm square with my Heavenly Father. I know I'm doing the absolute best I can. I can wake up and go about my day not hiding anything from those that love me the very most. It's very liberating. It's incredibly humbling too. I think that's a side benefit of this all. The humility that comes with having to go to a Heavenly Father and admit we'd lied to ourselves so long we no longer know the truth ourselves.
OK, I gotta go. I guess my last piece of advice is whatever you're dealing with, as an addiction, you find the help you need. That you get outside of yourself and do something about it. That you become, "strong" and admit your own weakness and fix it. Once and for all. Of course, you may be left with something that you may carry for a very long long time. Perhaps forever. But that knowledge of our own personal challenges I believe brings us closer to our Heavenly Father. Because we know of His love and affections for us. How much he wants us to succeed. If we dont avail ourselves of that help, we never change, we never fully progress. We make choices which can irreparably damage our relationships with those that mean the most to us.
OK, I seriously have to help out around here.
All the best to you guys.
Have a great night.
J
Except maybe today. Today was an interesting day. Today I counseled a Soldier who's potential got a drinking problem. Really odd actually, because last week we listened to a comedian come and talk to us about his own personal issues involving alcohol and drug use and the loss of his brother to suicide. Anyhow, this Soldier within my command has a drinking issue. She uses alcohol to soothe whatever issues she's dealing with. Coupled with some prescription drug use for some pretty heavy back issues, this is a recipe for disaster.
Well, the First Sergeant and I, together with our Drug and Alcohol Abuse specialist and this Soldier's first-line leader sat down to talk. It was an intervention really. The Soldier admitted to her boss that she's drank to excess, pretty much nightly and often mixes the affects of the pain medications as a result. She's got a serious problem. My job as the commander is of course to offer the Soldier help, but to uphold the requirements of military service within my command.
Well, I'll be honest. I didnt expect this Soldier to own most of this. She did exactly what I expected. Minimized the usage, and denied the one-time use of marijuana. Personally, I dont understand marijuana usage, so I have no frame of reference as to it's draw. I just plain disagree with it's use. Alcohol in moderation doesnt bother me so I get the ability to waiver on the use of it. So, this Soldier pretty well broke down and got emotional. Denied the over-use and was interested in "clearing her name". Of course she was worried about an in-patient recovery option as well as her standing in the organization. We really were there to help her and I sincerely hope she understands that.
I guess today I saw a little bit of my own challenges in this Soldier that I've personally dealt with. I dont have issues with alcohol or drugs. I dont have issues with most things. But I know what addiction is all about. I've been there. I've lived it and I'd say I honestly am not sure I'll ever be, "cured". Addiction and acceptance of our own weaknesses and challenges really means that we'll never be, "ok" or normal in that regard again. Personally I have some challenges which are always going to affect me. The worst part about addiction, is that it never goes away. You can't "un-learn" what you know. You know EXACTLY how to get what you want to feel. You know the results will be immediate. They will be lasting, and they will leave you hollow once it wears off. The other thing about addiction, is that it's so powerful, you actually consider it on almost a daily basis as your method of coping. See, my personal addiction consumed me. It owned everything about me. I didnt care about anyone or anything as much as I did feeling that, "drug". I was able to rationalize just about anything I needed to in order to maintain it. What's horrible about it, is that you know it's wrong. You know the potential danger, and you still choose to pursue it. You get to a point, while you're trying to find the deep-end of the pool, that you can't touch the bottom anymore.
It's a wonderfully horrible feeling to be helpless to something. Especially when it's packaged in such a way that you can start justifying how you've always been and behaved before. You can honestly say, "that's just how I am. I dont have a problem, it's everyone else that does." But of course you know better. When you're involved in an addiction, you tell yourself that it's just you that you're affecting. You alone bear the burden and you alone will pay the price. But that's never the case. It can't be. That's the lie. All of use are loved by so many people around us. Some of these addictions can be so damaging that they change who we are fundamentally as a person.
So, as I sat there, I thought about my own challenges. How daily I have to run through a checklist. I weigh and re-weigh the options periodically. What will this mean if I do. Can I beat this? Will it always own me, or will I ever be in charge? That's the initial shock to it. The belief that it's always going to own you. Also, you realize there's a part of you that must stay completely away from any semblance of a relationship with what affects you. Alcoholics can't have, "just one" drink. I can't have "just one..." That's tough. Especially when you think you're, "cured". 'Cause, as an addict, you never will be. It's always going to be your individual challenge.
So, I probably said way too much here. My point is that I understand this young Soldier. I understand she's not as yet willing to admit she's powerless in one or more aspects of her life. I understand that she may not get there for a while. It's a bitter pill to swallow when you fancy yourself as a warrior to admit there's something you can't do on your own. We're taught to never accept defeat. Never give up. Asking for help is tantamount to failure as a Soldier. That's a scary thought.
Today I choose to believe you have to be stronger to stay away from those things that affect you. There's nothing wrong with admitting a weakness for something. Especially when it keeps you on the straight-and-narrow. To me, I know I have challenges now. I know that I have been given a vast array of talents. But there are some things which can be used against me by the adversary, that would ordinarily be considered a talent.
So, this Soldier, is at a crossroads of sorts. It's been brought about publically which really makes someone put their sheilds up. She didnt exactly come forward of her own accord, but certainly others saw her spiralling out of control.
I dont have an answer how this is going to turn out for this individual. I personally think she'll be, "strong" and admit her own weaknesses and challenges. I think she'll avail herself of the help available from those that care about her. I think she'll come out of this a much stronger individual than she was before. I think that's been the case for me. In many ways things are so much clearer than they have ever been before. However, that comes at a cost. That cost is admittance that I have an issue and a personal challenge that is not easily understood by many, but affects me greatly. I also have to admit that I have ownership of it, and that I have control if I choose to. I no longer have the luxury of, "that's just me and you have to accept the reality of it." My challenge is not something I'm particularly proud of being involved in, but I now in retrospect see a pattern I've been quietly following all my life. It's now up to me to decide to no longer accept the excuses and do something about it. I've got to own it.
Addictions of any sort can be so humiliating to admit. First to ourselves. That's the most difficult part. The other part is to admit it to those that care the most about us. Guess what? Those that truly matter never stop loving us. They may not understand it, but they will certainly try and help us over it. I think that's the other thing. You can't do it alone. Oh believe me. Oh, and you can't beat it with someone just like you. DONT EVER TRY THAT!!! "Dr. Heal thy self", is a prescription for failure. I guess to me that's like one crack-addict trying to convince another crack-addict to stop. Just doesnt work out that way.
So, my point in all this, is yeah, I understand her plight. BELIEVE me. It's humiliating to have always been the helper, and now have to become the help-ee. But, I've done it. I feel great. I really do. I know I'm square with my Heavenly Father. I know I'm doing the absolute best I can. I can wake up and go about my day not hiding anything from those that love me the very most. It's very liberating. It's incredibly humbling too. I think that's a side benefit of this all. The humility that comes with having to go to a Heavenly Father and admit we'd lied to ourselves so long we no longer know the truth ourselves.
OK, I gotta go. I guess my last piece of advice is whatever you're dealing with, as an addiction, you find the help you need. That you get outside of yourself and do something about it. That you become, "strong" and admit your own weakness and fix it. Once and for all. Of course, you may be left with something that you may carry for a very long long time. Perhaps forever. But that knowledge of our own personal challenges I believe brings us closer to our Heavenly Father. Because we know of His love and affections for us. How much he wants us to succeed. If we dont avail ourselves of that help, we never change, we never fully progress. We make choices which can irreparably damage our relationships with those that mean the most to us.
OK, I seriously have to help out around here.
All the best to you guys.
Have a great night.
J
Sunday, September 11, 2011
September 11th
September 11th, 9/11, 911...I suppose we all have our favorite way of refering to it. Today is of course the 10 year anniversary. Stacey and I were talking about it yesterday. More about the fact that somehow a decade has already transpired since that morning. I'll be honest here, I have some pretty intense feelings about that day, but I'm not sure I feel very passionate about it on this particular morning. Today it feels like perhaps time might heal all wounds, but that this defining moment for our generation was a turning point. Let me explain.
We all know where we were on that morning. What we were doing when we heard. The shock, anger, and the immediate void of the aftermath. There was a yearning for leadership from our National and ecclesiastical leaders. In the weeks and months following it galvinized us as a nation. Songs were written, everyone supported the troops, and we prepared for war with the Taliban and subsequently with the leadership of Iraq, and anyone else that dared to wake the sleeping giant.
I guess in my mind every generation has something that sets them apart from the generation before. It's trite now, but we can compare this to the events of Pearl Harbor on December 7th, 1941. Today I dont feel hate, I dont feel sadness, I feel....adult I guess. The sheen has worn off and all the sparkles and glitter are gone. Life is really serious at times. We're not living in a Barbi Dreamhouse driving a Barbi Corvette and looking at rainbows and unicorns here. There are people who are striving to change our way of life because it constrasts drastically with their own, thousands of miles away.
That morning I was driving around in my Salt Lake County truck. I was an inspector for the County. I was in Magna. It was a beautiful morning. I was listening to the radio, Bob and Tom to be honest and more exact. I was driving South in one of the side streets on the North end of town. Honestly the trees look beautiful in the first rays of the morning and it was going to be one of those days that just make you glad to be alive. As I'm listening to the radio, the announcer...Tom I think...stops and says, "We've just gotten word that a plan has his one of the Twin Towers in New York..." Immediately I'm thinking...some idiot in a Cessna has crumpled his little plane up against it and by the way, who let him inside that airspace, and what kind of weather are they having that would allow him to get so far off course? I'm wondering these things, not exactly concerned....and then...another plane hits. This plane slams into the second tower of course. There's no doubt in my mind what's going on. I knew it immediately. My heart sank. I had just joined the Utah National Guard weeks before. I'd followed the Lord's promptings, and THIS is where it was going to take me.
I called Stacey. I told her to turn on the T.V. More for me than for her. I frantically jumped from A.M. station to station trying to get more information. It was a continuous description of the two aircraft over and over. Then someone put one into a field in Pennsylvania, and the Pentagon. 'Oh my God', I thought. Immediately my thoughts turned to the safety of my family at home. Were other attacks across the Nation scheduled in concert? Was my family safe?
I dont remember when I left work that day. I remember coming home and immediately turning on the T.V. Over and over the airplanes crashed into the towers. The entire Nation was in mass confusion. Over the coming hours and days, our President, like him or hate him, promised swift and exact retaliation for these attacks. Flags were out on houses, places of business, and I personally yearned for some sort of guidance from our Prophet (then) Gordon B. Hinkley. The Prophet did come on and the words he gave were more calming than militant. I found it interesting that our church leadership didn't discount the leadership of our Nation in any way, but reminded us that we were citizens of a Nation and that we should follow our National leaders and pray for them in the coming days.
I know that morning in Magna, I thought about going into a church. Which is weird I guess. Because Latterday Saint Churches dont often have a priest or any clergy there on full-time basis. They are usually locked throughout the day and open in the evenings for functions and dinners and meetings with the Bishop and others. I didnt go in I guess, I didnt really see the point, but I really wanted the guidance from our Heavenly Father as to what the coming days held and what I should do to help my little family along.
This past ten years have redirected my life...our lives in ways I would have never anticipated. My full-time profession changed almost immediately to that of a professional Soldier and my focus changed to that of the infliction of violence on willing participants. Immediately following those events it was very clear. Almost black and white. Good guys, and bad guys. Finally bad guys had a face and were even doing us the favor of amassing in large groups to make it easier to target them and erase them from consideration. Since that day, we've had our own Soldiers, field-grade officers at that, shoot our own Soldiers on Fort Hood, we've had home-grown terror attacks and plots, white powdery substances, etc. It seems like the entire world went crazy. So much hate and distain for our freedoms and choice.
Today, ten years later, I'm not even sure of the questions anymore. All of my decisions have become principle-based. Does this action promote choice, or does it limit it? Does this "protection" infringe on personal iberties or does it protect them. Even that has become a grey area at times. I suppose for me, I'd rather roll the dice and maintain freedoms, than lock down our homes, our schools, our liberties, and especially our minds, in the name of personal and societal protections. Personally, I'd rather see more concealed-carry permits. I think you walk softly and carry a big stick to be honest. I dont think disarming the masses does anything but provide the wolves with more pliant sheep. I also believe that we can't become calloused and suspicious of anyone and everyone. We still have to maintain that sense of community and openess that makes America what it is.
This country is going to hell in a handbasket it seems. I'm fighting mad angry at times. Not with (just) our President, not with Congress, no, I'm fighting mad with our citizenry. I'm mad that Dancing with the Stars, and American Idol, and 32 hot chicks and one guy in a dating show have replaced our desires to think for ourselves. I would like honest debate among neighbors and friends and conciencious voting each November. I would like to see people turn out for the Primaries. I'd like to see us replace non-action school boards and take power out of the hands of teacher's unions. I'd like us to educate our kids such that they know all things have a cost, and aint no such thing as a free lunch.
It's this free lunch mentality that has me the most worried. This sense of entitlement. It's mine, I didnt earn it, but I deserve it, and I get mine now despite the national/societal or worse the mental cost. That's ...pardon my french, bullshit. I'm sick of it. I really am. I'm not sure when we as Americans bought into the something-for-nothing mentality. But it's gotta stop here. EVERYTHING has a cost ladies and gentlemen. If you buy into a government program, you just hired thousands of government workers (of which I realize I am one) and therefore improved union membership and strength and of course, pandering. Oh my goodness I hate pandering. SOMEONE in Congress needs to stand up and stop the pandering to everyone. Listen folks, we only have so much money. It's guns or butter kids. So we can have butter, but we stop making guns. You can't promise both. My great dream for America is not some guy/gal on a white horse riding in to save the day and the economy. My dream is for you, and others like you, to shut that idiot-box off long enough to read a few articles to help you make a decision this coming Fall. I dont care HOW you vote, as long as you VOTE. Of course I have my prefered outcome, but dont vote by what sounds right, vote by what FEELS right.
Does this particular candidate/party/initiative support those principles which you do? If not, I'd actually prefer you not vote at all. Dont cloud the waters with stupid. If you feel passionate that socialized medicine is the way to go, and you've weighed the pros and cons and you're prepared to scale back military and infrastructure requirements, well by all means.
OK, I'm sorry this turned into a political rant. I'm sorry. I want one thing. For my personal military service, and for that of others to mean something. I'm potentially going to miss the birth of a child this October to go to school. A month later I'm going to miss our anniversary and my birthday for the second phase of that school. Granted, this is of my own doing, and my own volition. However, please dont make my personal sacrifices, and those of others like me go wasted because you'd rather turn your brain to mush because reading headlines is how you'd rather make your choices. This past ten years of my life have really defined who I am as a person. As a father, it's given me ability to focus and crowd out the world and protect my kids and our precious time together. As a husband, it's given me perspective as to the fleeting opportunities we have to tell someone we love them and mean it. As a citizen I'm passionate, as a Soldier, I'm deadly.
I'm not sure what this day means to you. I'm not sure if you've made it this far into the text. Of course I hope you did. I hope you remember this day, and that your experiences, whether similar or in great and vast difference remind you of who you are. I want this day to be a day where you reflect upon why you're Heavenly Father sent you here to this Earth at this time and place. Was it to make a difference in the lives of others? Was it to be a leader in a sea of swirling opinions? Was it to live principly based? Or was it to have a good time and enjoy the efforts and fruits of others' labor?
Anyhow, you have a great day. I smell bacon. I love this subject and this topic, but after all, bacon...well is bacon.
You kids have a great day. All both of you.
Always the Best,
J
We all know where we were on that morning. What we were doing when we heard. The shock, anger, and the immediate void of the aftermath. There was a yearning for leadership from our National and ecclesiastical leaders. In the weeks and months following it galvinized us as a nation. Songs were written, everyone supported the troops, and we prepared for war with the Taliban and subsequently with the leadership of Iraq, and anyone else that dared to wake the sleeping giant.
I guess in my mind every generation has something that sets them apart from the generation before. It's trite now, but we can compare this to the events of Pearl Harbor on December 7th, 1941. Today I dont feel hate, I dont feel sadness, I feel....adult I guess. The sheen has worn off and all the sparkles and glitter are gone. Life is really serious at times. We're not living in a Barbi Dreamhouse driving a Barbi Corvette and looking at rainbows and unicorns here. There are people who are striving to change our way of life because it constrasts drastically with their own, thousands of miles away.
That morning I was driving around in my Salt Lake County truck. I was an inspector for the County. I was in Magna. It was a beautiful morning. I was listening to the radio, Bob and Tom to be honest and more exact. I was driving South in one of the side streets on the North end of town. Honestly the trees look beautiful in the first rays of the morning and it was going to be one of those days that just make you glad to be alive. As I'm listening to the radio, the announcer...Tom I think...stops and says, "We've just gotten word that a plan has his one of the Twin Towers in New York..." Immediately I'm thinking...some idiot in a Cessna has crumpled his little plane up against it and by the way, who let him inside that airspace, and what kind of weather are they having that would allow him to get so far off course? I'm wondering these things, not exactly concerned....and then...another plane hits. This plane slams into the second tower of course. There's no doubt in my mind what's going on. I knew it immediately. My heart sank. I had just joined the Utah National Guard weeks before. I'd followed the Lord's promptings, and THIS is where it was going to take me.
I called Stacey. I told her to turn on the T.V. More for me than for her. I frantically jumped from A.M. station to station trying to get more information. It was a continuous description of the two aircraft over and over. Then someone put one into a field in Pennsylvania, and the Pentagon. 'Oh my God', I thought. Immediately my thoughts turned to the safety of my family at home. Were other attacks across the Nation scheduled in concert? Was my family safe?
I dont remember when I left work that day. I remember coming home and immediately turning on the T.V. Over and over the airplanes crashed into the towers. The entire Nation was in mass confusion. Over the coming hours and days, our President, like him or hate him, promised swift and exact retaliation for these attacks. Flags were out on houses, places of business, and I personally yearned for some sort of guidance from our Prophet (then) Gordon B. Hinkley. The Prophet did come on and the words he gave were more calming than militant. I found it interesting that our church leadership didn't discount the leadership of our Nation in any way, but reminded us that we were citizens of a Nation and that we should follow our National leaders and pray for them in the coming days.
I know that morning in Magna, I thought about going into a church. Which is weird I guess. Because Latterday Saint Churches dont often have a priest or any clergy there on full-time basis. They are usually locked throughout the day and open in the evenings for functions and dinners and meetings with the Bishop and others. I didnt go in I guess, I didnt really see the point, but I really wanted the guidance from our Heavenly Father as to what the coming days held and what I should do to help my little family along.
This past ten years have redirected my life...our lives in ways I would have never anticipated. My full-time profession changed almost immediately to that of a professional Soldier and my focus changed to that of the infliction of violence on willing participants. Immediately following those events it was very clear. Almost black and white. Good guys, and bad guys. Finally bad guys had a face and were even doing us the favor of amassing in large groups to make it easier to target them and erase them from consideration. Since that day, we've had our own Soldiers, field-grade officers at that, shoot our own Soldiers on Fort Hood, we've had home-grown terror attacks and plots, white powdery substances, etc. It seems like the entire world went crazy. So much hate and distain for our freedoms and choice.
Today, ten years later, I'm not even sure of the questions anymore. All of my decisions have become principle-based. Does this action promote choice, or does it limit it? Does this "protection" infringe on personal iberties or does it protect them. Even that has become a grey area at times. I suppose for me, I'd rather roll the dice and maintain freedoms, than lock down our homes, our schools, our liberties, and especially our minds, in the name of personal and societal protections. Personally, I'd rather see more concealed-carry permits. I think you walk softly and carry a big stick to be honest. I dont think disarming the masses does anything but provide the wolves with more pliant sheep. I also believe that we can't become calloused and suspicious of anyone and everyone. We still have to maintain that sense of community and openess that makes America what it is.
This country is going to hell in a handbasket it seems. I'm fighting mad angry at times. Not with (just) our President, not with Congress, no, I'm fighting mad with our citizenry. I'm mad that Dancing with the Stars, and American Idol, and 32 hot chicks and one guy in a dating show have replaced our desires to think for ourselves. I would like honest debate among neighbors and friends and conciencious voting each November. I would like to see people turn out for the Primaries. I'd like to see us replace non-action school boards and take power out of the hands of teacher's unions. I'd like us to educate our kids such that they know all things have a cost, and aint no such thing as a free lunch.
It's this free lunch mentality that has me the most worried. This sense of entitlement. It's mine, I didnt earn it, but I deserve it, and I get mine now despite the national/societal or worse the mental cost. That's ...pardon my french, bullshit. I'm sick of it. I really am. I'm not sure when we as Americans bought into the something-for-nothing mentality. But it's gotta stop here. EVERYTHING has a cost ladies and gentlemen. If you buy into a government program, you just hired thousands of government workers (of which I realize I am one) and therefore improved union membership and strength and of course, pandering. Oh my goodness I hate pandering. SOMEONE in Congress needs to stand up and stop the pandering to everyone. Listen folks, we only have so much money. It's guns or butter kids. So we can have butter, but we stop making guns. You can't promise both. My great dream for America is not some guy/gal on a white horse riding in to save the day and the economy. My dream is for you, and others like you, to shut that idiot-box off long enough to read a few articles to help you make a decision this coming Fall. I dont care HOW you vote, as long as you VOTE. Of course I have my prefered outcome, but dont vote by what sounds right, vote by what FEELS right.
Does this particular candidate/party/initiative support those principles which you do? If not, I'd actually prefer you not vote at all. Dont cloud the waters with stupid. If you feel passionate that socialized medicine is the way to go, and you've weighed the pros and cons and you're prepared to scale back military and infrastructure requirements, well by all means.
OK, I'm sorry this turned into a political rant. I'm sorry. I want one thing. For my personal military service, and for that of others to mean something. I'm potentially going to miss the birth of a child this October to go to school. A month later I'm going to miss our anniversary and my birthday for the second phase of that school. Granted, this is of my own doing, and my own volition. However, please dont make my personal sacrifices, and those of others like me go wasted because you'd rather turn your brain to mush because reading headlines is how you'd rather make your choices. This past ten years of my life have really defined who I am as a person. As a father, it's given me ability to focus and crowd out the world and protect my kids and our precious time together. As a husband, it's given me perspective as to the fleeting opportunities we have to tell someone we love them and mean it. As a citizen I'm passionate, as a Soldier, I'm deadly.
I'm not sure what this day means to you. I'm not sure if you've made it this far into the text. Of course I hope you did. I hope you remember this day, and that your experiences, whether similar or in great and vast difference remind you of who you are. I want this day to be a day where you reflect upon why you're Heavenly Father sent you here to this Earth at this time and place. Was it to make a difference in the lives of others? Was it to be a leader in a sea of swirling opinions? Was it to live principly based? Or was it to have a good time and enjoy the efforts and fruits of others' labor?
Anyhow, you have a great day. I smell bacon. I love this subject and this topic, but after all, bacon...well is bacon.
You kids have a great day. All both of you.
Always the Best,
J
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)