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
Sunday, October 30, 2011
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
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