Memorial Day

We'll be cooking out in the backyard with the kids and the dogs. I hope all of you are doing something similar.

This day is about the ones who didn't make it back, but it has always seemed to me that they wouldn't begrudge us spending it enjoying our friends and family.

But do think of them. Remember them.

MAJ Gregory J. Fester
SPC Michael J. Stokely
SGT Paul A. Saylor
SPC Joshua P. Dingler
SGT Thomas J. Strickland
SFC Class Lawrence E. Morrison
SSG George R. Draughn Jr.
SFC Robert L. Hollar Jr.
SSG Jason A. Fegler
SPC Joshua J. Munger
SPC Benjamin A. Smith
SGT Regina C. Reali
SPC Cheyenne C. Willey
1LT Benjamin T. Britt
SPC William Lopez-Feliciano
SGT Kenith Casica
SSG Travis L. Nelson
SGT Matthew D. Hunter
1LT Garrison C. Avery
SPC Marlon A. Bustamante
SPC Anthony C. Owens
PFC Caesar S. Viglienzone
SPC Andrew K. Waits
CPT Shane R. Mahaffee
1SG Carlos N. Saenz
SPC Teodoro Torres
SGT Nathan J. Vacho

What do we have HERE?

The Mister is off at the airport, trying to find his children who, it appears, were diverted to some other city in Texas when their plane developed some sort of issue.

You know, about seven years ago we had them, and they were scheduled to fly home on Sept 11. Needless to say, that didn't happen. Their luck with flights hasn't improved much.

Anyway. I trudged out to get the mail.

Standing in front of the mailbox, I conducted inventory. Box from World's Coolest Grandmother - yipee! Little package with a used paperback I ordered online - woohoo! Flyer from gas company.... Hey...what's this?

STATE OF TEXAS
COUNTY OF TARRANT
Jury Summons

For me!

I mailed in my voter registration like ten days ago, and do not yet in fact have a voter registration card. They don't waste much time.

But I am all excited. I've never had jury duty. I love things I've never done before.

It's next month, and there's about a 50/50 chance the Army will have me somewhere doing something, but I'd like to go do the jury gig. I think I would be a fabulous juror.

Countdown to

a full house. The kids will arrive for the summer this evening. There will be dogs on beds, much pool-related activity, and generally a much higher optempo around here.

The boys are going on 15, and so I am mostly concerned about the food issue. I was never a teenage boy myself, but I have known a few. I predict we have less than a week before they may attempt to eat the furniture.

Preparations have been made. There's enough peanut butter in the pantry to float a battleship, we've been buying pasta like the Old Country Buffet in preparation for Italian Night, and we have cases and cases of Ramen noodles.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go make some "please don't eat the dog" signs for the pets to wear.

Range trip!

I took Barney's advice from the last set of comments and took off to the rifle range in order to be doing something other than sniveling about the CMP.

Up front, it would have been a more productive range trip if, in addition to the Inland carbine and 100 rounds of ammo for it, I had remembered magazines.

It turned into a wringout trip for the .308 that came to live here recently. Does this look like a good time or what?



The first group of shots (at 50 yards) was...well, it could have been worse. It took a couple of figure out the whole bipod thing, and several more to be sure I was shooting where I was shooting, then an adjustment right and up, then a few more...



I am a terrible "adjuster." I could singlehandedly use an entire ASP zeroing a single M16, making sight adjustments one click at a time. So after I pulled the above target down, I'd totalled 6 UP and 4 RIGHT. So I took a deep breath, cringed, and added another 4 UP.



Which worked. Cool. Having by this point become buddies with the range officer (another recovering Marine), I trudged over to the 100 yard line to see where I was.



'Twas good.

DISCLAIMER - That is NOT a photo of the target! I didn't want to call a cold range after three shots so I could go get it, so there IS no picture! This is an "artist's rendering" of said target, made crudely from the image from the 50! The flyer was the first shot at that distance, and the other two were nice.

150 grain Federal softpoints of one sort or another. I was pleased. I still don't really see the point of the bipod, but it doesn't offend me, so I don't see any need to take it off right away.

Kudos to the guys down at Alpine, who were helpful and non-irritating all the way around. Props to the friendly dude inside who boresighted my scope, and the nice old boy running the range. But maybe you guys should stock a couple of M1 carbine magazines...

Since that was so much fun and the Mister is out of town, it occurs to me I have a ton of .45 acp and couple of pistols to match.... I'm off again!

Staying busy

and trying not to click on the CMP e-store too often.

Today, I was getting desperate. So...what is our fearless author up to?



Other than pulling sticks out of the undercarriage (left over from the trip up north), that is?



That's right - changing my oil! All by myself! Because I am an uber-liberated post-feminist total badass self-sufficient not-needing-any-help type of gal!

(okay - so the Mister was an arm's length away reminding me which nut needed to come out, and the proper order of steps. But I think I'll remember well enough to do it all alone next time)

Beats housework

Jack finally pointed out that I was being absolutely NO FUN. So we got the floating duck and headed outside.

Yipee! Floating ducks call for belly flops!



I cannot get over how well that dog swims. Like an otter, but only if otters made weird chuffing noises to keep the water out of their nostrils.



We did ten or so duck retrieves, then I killed fun when I insisted on securing the duck and getting in the water myself. Oh well - he got over it, and is now joyfully rolling on the floor and growling - his favorite way of recovering from a swim.

[sigh]

The CMP people are tormenting me. My S'G' order went to open/processing on the 15th, and it looks kinda like it'ss running about three business days before they are shipping.

[taps fingers]

Any time now...

Oddly, clicking on the "pending orders" button 37 times per hour doesn't seem to be speeding the process along at all.

Mundane

and, at the same time, pathetic. In the wake of a very nice weekend, I thought it probably wouldn't kill me to clean up around the house today.

Since we have a G. Shepherd, there are always doghair tumbleweeds rolling across the horizon here at BDC. Our last decent vacuum gave up the ghost a few months back, so we had a trainwreck fling with a Bissell FlipIt (which may work well for something, but sure didn't for anything we tried with it).



After that, we gave up on the fancy-schmancy floor-sucking machines and decided to combat the dog hair Redneck-style.



A-yup. That's right. We clean the house with an off-brand ShopVac. It's the cat's ass on the tile. The only drawback is the short cord.

So today I whack the kitchen, the master bath, and most of the floor. Also several loads of laundry and dishes. I am totally a domestic goddess.

Wow.

Weather.com says it's 100 degrees out right now. So does my thermometer, but I don't trust it.

Which explains why the slightly-over-two-miles I jogged this afternoon very nearly killed me. But character was built.

In other exercises in character-building, the Mister is spending his day walking around in the sunshine, smiling and shaking hands. Wearing the shockingly uncomfy Dress Blue Deltas with the equally awful Shiny Black Shoes. Poor guy.

And THAT is why

I am not a good biker wife.

Good lord, that perching on the back is uncomfortable. North Texas was very pretty, but I feel like I've been scrunched in a laundry basket for the last six hours.

I also find the sportbike thing pretty much terrifying. It requires every bit of trust I have in my husband's ability for me to not have him pull over so I can walk home. Too fast, too curvy, too scary for me.

But, because he is more or less a saint, the Mister did not seize the opportunity to launch off the back of the bike and speed away.

In an ongoing effort

to be a decent wife, I'm participating in the "couples ride" the Mister's motorcycle group is doing. Not as a rider - as a passenger. Nonetheless, wish me luck, and please try to avoid hitting any bikes you may see in North Texas this morning.

Man...

Write one quick entry on how you don't feel too bad about an American soldier shooting up the Quran, and next thing you know, CNN has 8 zillion people visiting your blog.

I'm not editing or deleting any comments (other than my own, for typos), since that's not the point of the medium.

If, at some point, we want to talk about this in more depth, we can. But that's probably best saved for when I haven't been having beers at the VFW.

Oh, the shame

This sort of thing just tears me up.

No, really. I'm weeping here. Weeping.

The U.S. military on Saturday formally apologized to an Iraqi village after
a soldier admitted using the Quran -- Islam's holy book -- for target
practice.

Maj. Gen. Jeffrey Hammond, commander of U.S. forces in Baghdad, apologized
to the Radhwaniya tribe for the staff sergeant, who was a sniper section leader
assigned to the headquarters of the 64th Armored Regiment.

Now, really. I am fully aware of all the many reasons why this sort of behavior is bad and wrong and offensive and counterproductive and tacky and evil.

But really. It all gets back to the one thing the entire West would like the Middle East to understand - the need to chill the Hell out.

Win one, lose one

The lawn got mowed. However, it was a really nice day. A little warm, sunny... And so it didn't occur to me that running, then mowing the back, side and front yards in a tank top was maybe not a smart idea.

Seriously, sometimes it's a miracles I made it to adulthood being this slow.

The sunburn on the face and arms will fade, but the part on my shoulders and the other flesh that hasn't seen direct sunlight in months....well, I'm thinking blisters.

Avoidance

Ugh. There's our back yard. The one that, right before we took off up north, the Mister said he should maybe mow. And which I, in a hurry, said, "will be fine if I deal with it when I get back."

It looks like...well, I've seen jungles with less foliage.



I have a lawnmower and a can of gas, and just as soon as the dew burns off, it'll off with a couple of inches!

That is, if I can't think of anything at all to do that will enable me to keep procrastinating with it...

UPDATE @ 1253 -- There was no avoiding it. I tried - Jack and I even went for a three-mile run, but the persisted in...exisiting. I'm halfway though the back, and this seemed an appropriate time to stop for root beer.

Kindergarten debate

"The word...a bad word that we can't repeat on television..."

Wolf Blitzer snivels about Sen. Joe Biden's evaluation of the President's description of "some Democrats" as appeasers. Time for definition!

tr.v. ap·peased, ap·peas·ing, ap·peas·es
1. To bring peace, quiet, or calm to; soothe.
2. To satisfy or relieve: appease one's thirst.
3. To pacify or attempt to pacify (an enemy) by granting concessions, often at the expense of principle. See Synonyms at pacify.

Well, the shoe either fits, or it doesn't. But the response to the President's remarks is interesting.

If I were to refer to someone in a generally insulting manner, perhaps by using the term coward, it would seem to me there would be only a few basic options for response.

1 - punch me in the face (not really an option in modern politics)
2 - respond, "I am not a coward."
3 - publicly shriek that my accusation is somehow not appropriate, or is insufficiently high-minded

If I call someone a coward, a combination of 1 and 2 would indicate that they believe my description to be inaccurate. Number 3 does not, it would seem, dispute the accuracy of my accusation, merely that it was not nice.

I say again, I cannot stand any of these people.

well, lookee here...

I logged into the CMP E-store this morning to see...well, if anything had appeared.



So I peed myself a little, then checked out the details. It's a service grade Saginaw S' G' (Grand Rapids). No idea on shipping yet, but I'm checking. Regularly. Like every 10 minutes.

Things I have learned

1 - The jeep can go through anything. Including trees.



In fact, one can proceed directly through those trees twice. Once heading out, and once heading back.

2 - Proceeding through those trees at a high rate of speed in the pitch black will leave a mark on said jeep.



The frame damage is...not a big deal. A little paint to cover the exposed metal, and I'll write it off as a mark of character. Kinda like a good scar. The problem is not visible in the picture, because it took a little while for the crack to spread. But spread it did, and by the time we hit Texas, there was 100 mph tape on the windshield and we were cringing at every large insect we encountered.

3 - Our insurance provider claims that the wonderful glass coverage we had in Florida did not transfer to Texas. [sigh]

Out of the north

Made it home last night - I don't have anywhere to go for a while now, and I have to admit, it's a nice feeling.

We were pursuing the elusive morel mushroom in the "northern lower" of Michigan. It wasn't a particularly good year for them, but we did alright.



There are lots of things you can do with morels, but when up north, we go with the traditional fry-em-in-a-big-pan approach.



Those are accompanied by a large pan of bluegill fillets, and together they form possibly the world's perfect meal. The blackflies that occasionally end up in the pan add a little something.

I haven't made it to the spring mushroom gathering since 96 - shortly before I graduated high school and hit the road. It was good to be back.

It's been a rough few days

of chasing fungus around northern Michigan. Updates will follow later tonight or tomorrow, but suffice it to say there were blackflies, beers and yes - fungus.

I still don't get it

I've been watching the primary returns for a few hours now. Well, except for about an hour after supper when I was asleep with an attractive man and a yorkie on the couch. But I don't believe I missed much.

I'm not really understanding where this process is heading. It looks, whenever the numbers are broken down by county and occupation and income level, etc, that Sen. Obama is winning hardcore democrats and black folks, and Sen. Clinton is winning centrist democrats and older people.

This runs me straight into what's always been my problem with the primary system - the people picking the party's nominee are the sort of people who bother to register with a party affiliation. And they may end up picking a candidate who best represents the textbook party values, but I don't know they end up picking a candidate most appealing to the entire electorate. And ultimately, that is the point.

So it looks to me like the democrats are on their way to nominating Sen. Obama, but I can really see the other argument - that he's not winning in the places and ways that the democratic candidate will have to win in November to carry the general election.

As I've said before, I'm inclined to like Sen. McCain, and so this is academic right now. I'm also apparently immune to the Obama magic, so I really don't get the wild-eyed college students. It simply seems to me that we're letting a weird primary system enable fuzzy idealists to nominate someone who has no business vying to head our government, and who is not going to do well this fall.

Stormy mornings are the best

Rain and thunder makes a nice backdrop for staying in bed extra-long, enjoying that "I'm not really awake" feeling.

However, all three dogs are nervous and Sparky has developed the phenomenally irritating habit of barking at thunder.

I really don't want to do anything, but alas, that's not an option today. Primary returns to watch on the TV tonight, so that gives me something to look forward to. Add beer, and televised politics are almost as much fun as a good baseball game.

Housekeeping, etc

Tonight, for y'all, I've got a couple of neat blogs that commentor Peggy has pointed out to me (she runs a good site herself, by-the-by).

First we have two of our favorite things, Marines and dogs, all wrapped up in wonderful package over at K9 Pride. This, folks, is a really neat site and some good insight into the world of the military working dog and its person. Drop by and encourage (now recovering from the Corps) Sgt. Dowling to keep up the good work.

Peggy also pointed us toward Lt. Nixon's Rants. That would be the real officer sort of lieutenant (Navy O3), not the laughable butter bar sort. The LT is one of those Squids in da Sandbox, and he's putting out some throughtful copy during his tour. Drop by and check him out.

We also have The Lonestar Gal, who, for some odd reason, seems to be really looking forward to moving to Texas. Well, actually, she's coming from Ohio, so she's going to moving up in the world. Anyway, she's a thoughtful one, and the recent posts on the story of her life are not to be missed.

As always, I shall continue to wander through comments and try to share neat sites with you.

Begging off

I've got some cool blogs to point out that I've been clued into over the last couple of weeks, and some other admin type stuff.

However, I'm just flat wore the heck out tonight, and so I'm going to beg some indulgence and try to get that stuff taken care of tomorrow. I am playing Army for a couple more days, but it's normal-hours administrative stuff, so I'm actually going to get to sleep well past 0530 and get home at a decent time.

The highlight of the day? A toss-up between serving as NCOIC of Cake and doing body-fat tapings. I think the cake thing would make a great efficiency report bullet.

It's not just a job,

it's a job that is amazing at screwing up my weekends.

When a battalion-wide, nobody-leaves-till-everyone-pees piss test was annouced shortly after 1800, it was not a cheerful moment. I got home only moments ago.

Worst part was, the hour or so spent waiting on the few people who were having some sort of issue with producing the appropriate amount of urine. Made me want to rip their kidneys from their bodies and wring out the required 30ml.

And in other thrilling news...

When I fired up my email here at the airport (let's hear it for the Columbia, SC airport and its free wireless!), guess what showed up in my inbox?

We have received and verified your recent order. There is nothing that we will be able to tell you about the order until we have input all orders received ahead of yours into the system. Your order will now advance to our sales area and from there to our shipping area. Please note, that unless otherwise listed, our order to ship time is 30 days. You will receive other emails as the order progresses

.
From my buddies at the Civilian Marksmanship Program.

[insert Happy Dance here]

Now, the only thing is, until they process my order and I see some details, I don't know which carbine I got. There were only 540 Saginaw S'G' service grades available, so I asked for one of those or a Saginaw S'G rack grade or a Saginaw service grade. Any would make me happy, but I am curious.

Just so long as I was clear and only end up with one. Funding one carbine is tolerated, but funding three might mean I'd have to sleep in the back yard.

FREEEEDOM!!!!

With one final, drawn-out, tiresome ceremony, my class ended this morning. Of course, yesterday night being the last night at a military class, many cheap beers were consumed.

The only thing more irritating than sitting through a drawn-out tiresome ceremony is doing it hungover. Ugh. You think we'd all learn that, but it seems to be one of those lessons that doesn't take.

Now I'm sitting back at the airport waiting on the flight home. It's a drill weekend, so I don't get to toss the boots into the closet quite yet, but I am looking forward to not sharing a bathroom with strangers again for a while.

Three days more

til Revolution, we shall nip it in the bud...

Sorry, getting my Army crap mixed up with Les Miserables. Anyway, it's three days more, and then there won't be a revolution, but I will get to leave. Which will be nice, because this course is like one long bad joke.

Question: What is the effect of a nuclear blast on communications equipment?
Answer: Adverse

No - I don't really get it either. But for some reason, being here for two weeks is career-enhancing. Ugh.

The other thing I've learned is that some of us might think it was really simple if we had all our texts in .pdf format, and all the exams were open-book. Shockingly easy. But we'd be only partially right, because that assumption rests upon the stipulation that one can use the search function. Which assumes that one can spell.

We had one dude today who couldn't find the four "types" of something-or-other. Only after about five minutes did we realize that was because he was searching for "tipes."

Your tax dollars at work, folks.

BandAid, meet Sucking Chest Wound

Here's an odd one - Iraq: Bill proposed to ban toy guns

Iraqi lawmakers are working on a draft bill to ban importing toy guns and fireworks, hoping to curb increasingly aggressive behavior among children who have grown up amid real war, a lawmaker said Tuesday.

So, the good news is that these people are in every country.

The not-so-good news is that as of earlier this month, the Iraqi government is still struggling terribly to meet the benchmarks for government progress set forth as the "way forward" for their country.

But as long as they're progressing toward meaningless nannyism, perhaps they'll garner some more support from folks on the left in this country.

"The culture of violence has prevailed in our society and controlled the Iraqi family and that it has affected the culture of children," said Samira al-Moussawi, head of the parliamentary committee on children and women, which is preparing the legislation.

Good lord.

The bar is OPEN

I bolted out of class like a scalded cat. I ran three miles to ward off guilt, then schlepped the laptop over here. Check this out:



Yes, folks, this appears to be the last bar in the DoD where one can drink and smoke. And there's non-restricted internet. It's wonderful.

The class I'm in is not really worth comment, but it's over next week. So that's a plus.

In other happy news, the Mister swears he launched my paperwork to the CMP today second-day air (for guaranteed Monday delivery). So I cross my fingers and hope I get drawn for one of the Saginaw variants...

Yeah - that's going to be a few extra drills I'l have to dig up if I get picked, but still...

Still out here

I'm hanging out in a parking lot at my deep south training location. The all-ranks club here provides free wi-fi that is NOT restricted by the Army. However, the ranks club appears to be open three days a week. At least they left the wi-fi on.

The class is...well...about what you'd expect out of a professional education course for an Army that needs every warm body in uniform. Not real challenging.

Here's a sign outside the building we're in. It's for another class - fortunately, we are not being forced to tote rifles around, but they are. I apologize for the poor quality - it's a camera phone shot.



I really hope you can make out the bottommost word in quotes. If not, it's "LIVE." I am forced to wonder a little bit about any education system that requires folks to practice clearing weapons in a manner that's apparently inconsistent with how they'd clear them of live ammo.

Then again, the Army seems to routinely change its mind about the best way to clear an M4/M16, so there's always room for...interpretation? Or something?

There are some Navy folks here who are being...reprogrammed. Or whatever the term is for the training they give Sailors who are coming over to do Army work in Iraq. We don't have any real contact with them, but they don't seem overwhelmingly concerned or despondent, which I think is positive.

OK. I'm off to try to hunt down a cold beer before the exchange closes. Y'all take care. I'll be back to you reasonably soon (perhaps when they open the stupid club).

Some things never change

Including this one - I'm sitting outside a southern airport with a few guys with short hair and pile of green baggage, waiting on some promised "shuttle," smoking cigarettes and wondering if the shuttle would show up if I ran inside for coffee.

Who am I kidding? Of course it would.

Packing (again)

Well, it's been a really fabulous 44 hours at home, but there's a 0730 flight with my name all over it tomorrow.

[sigh]

I am off to another lovely vacation spot in the American South, this time for a bit of professional military NCO education. It will be, I am certain, absolutely fucking fascinating.

[puts on big girl panties, stops whining]

If it hasn't become obvious, I'm desperately trying to fufill the educational requirements for the next pay grade before...anything happens that might make going to schools impossible. KnowwhatImean?

It's a pretty short one, and at a far more civilized location than the past couple of outings have been. I truly, deeply and honestly believe that I'll be able to keep sharing my sunshine with y'all during this one.

Now, to finish up packing. I'm missing my Army Mandated Pre-Execution Checklist, which I completed at last drill and brought home and which is now...somewhere in this house, in one of the fifty gazillion manila folders we keep tucked in high places so Jack doesn't eat them.

I totally missed this

You all will have to forgive me for recycling old news. I was hanging out in Michigan a week ago when, it seems, Sen. Clinton was throwing a few back in a bar in Indiana.

I have got to admit, I got a kick out of that. Particularly when I asked the Mister, "did that actually happen?" and he replied, "Yep. And she looked like a pro."

...although Clinton is no stranger to late night drinks with the press and her staff, she usually prefers red wine or the trendy wheat ale Blue Moon with a slice of orange, not the watery light beer in the glass mug she waved in the air so proudly as the crowd chanted her name.

Now, of course, this is all part of Hillary's last-ditch attempt to connect as the "regular guy" Democrat. And I think it's pretty effective, particularly when contrasted with Senator Obama's pathetic record of public beer drinkin'.

...the Illinois senator mocked Clinton for taking a shot of whiskey in front of TV cameras. But it's not that Obama hasn't made attempts to connect with voters in a bar, as well — On a bus tour stop on March 28, Obama had a few sips of beer with [Penn. Senator Bob] Casey in front of the press. He did not finish the beer. Emphasis added

This campaign really is getting more entertaining by the day.

I now return you all to normal blogging, which is not based on week-old news.

Just an aside...

My guard dogs suck. I came home at 0410, opened the garage door, pulled in, got Jack and one bag out of the Jeep, shut the garage door, and opened to door to the house, while talking to the puppy.

Did I get barked at? No. I did not.

Were my legs ripped off by my G. Shepherd? No. They were not.

I was in the kitchen turning the light on before Sparky came blinking out of the bedroom. My fierce, wardog Marine husband? He finally woke up after I shook his knee for several seconds.

And Casey woke up when I turned the bathroom light on. She got petted, then promptly went back to sleep.

Although it's probably technically impossible to successfully invade Bad Dog Central, it seems you can do whatever you want here in the middle of the night as long as you don't drop any plates on the floor.

Look what followed me home

No. Not another dog. No way in Hell.

[shudders]

Anyway.



Cousin Randy won this, I think, at an NRA banquet or something. He goes to a lot of those. He doesn't need it, I might be able to use it, and so it came home with me, with only the vague instruction to see if I could find "something kinda like" my ProCarry to send up to him. Eventually. Someday. No hurry.

I guess that means I can keep it and send him a pistol, or trade it for a pistol for him, or sell it and buy him a pistol, or take no action for quite some time.

I think Randy mostly wanted to send me home with a rifle of the sort I'd told him I was seeking.

It's a Remington 700 in .308. The scope is a Nikon, and I have no idea what the heck the story is with the bipod. Front and rear irons are in a little baggie, along with some sort of green Remington locking safety doohicky. It hasn't been fired.

I was looking more for a .270, but there's not a thing in the world wrong with .308, and it is in fact what the Mister's open-country scoped rifle fires.

It's in the gun room, hanging out with its bipod extended. The Mister ought to be home soon (your tax dollars bailing out of work early!), and I think we'll stand around and scratch our heads and try to figure out its fate.

Home!

Depart Hastings, Michigan at 0840 Thursday, arrive Bad Dog Central at 0410 Friday. 1,234 miles in...20.5 hours.

Total cigarettes consumed...roughly 23 in Michigan, Indiana, Kentucky and Tennessee. Another 16 were needed to make it across Arkansas and partway across Texas.

Pushups done at rest stops in order to get blood flowing, roughly 80.

Powdered donuts vomited on the dog bed in the back of my Jeep - 3. But that wasn't until within 100 miles of home, so I just dragged Jack up front, told him it was OK, and put the pedal down.

I know driving that far in one swoop isn't ideal, but when I don't get tired until after the thousand-mile mark, there's no way I'm stopping.

It's nice to be home, and to have slept whatever there was of the night in my own bed, surrounded by the rest of my pack.

Everybody

likes motels.



Not only was he allowed on the bed (which never happens in normal life), but interstate motels are chock-full of neat smells.

I was a little intrigued by what might have caused him to sniff wildly at the edge of the bedspread, but I decided I didn't really want to think about it. Sometimes, I think we're all glad that our noses can't tell us as much as dogs' noses tell them.

Hanging out with the fam'

My first morning up here, I did Mandatory Breakfast with Gramma. Her routine involves a 0700 sharp appearance at the Big Boy restaurant in the next town over, and was mildly put out that my Dad insisted a 0800 departure.

Gramma is a Big Boy frequent flier - the other breakfast people all know her, and she has a "usual" order. She waited tables for about 100 years, and feels entirely free to offer helpful input to the breakfast waitresses. Although there is a "please wait to be seated" sign, she ignores it and heads directly to "her" table upon entry.

Yes, she is the Terror of Big Boy.

But it's a community, and she enjoys participating in it. She won a quilt in a cancer benefit raffle there a couple of years back (after her brush with esophogeal cancer), and paid that win back by knitting an afghan for their most recent raffle.

Gramma is a...brisk woman, and although I wasn't there when she donated the afghan, I can imagine her thumping it down on the counter and directing the nearest staff member, "You's can use this in your next cancer raffle," then heading out the door with absolutely no further discussion.

Small towns and their gathering places are wonderful because there's a place in them for every character, even the afghan-knitting Terror of Big Boy.

Holy crap!

I'm a smoker. I can count the number of times I've interacted with smokeless tobacco on hand and have several fingers left over.

However, if I had any confidence that this sign was anything but an odd arrangement of words, I'd buy stock in Copenhagen



I mean, c'mon. How cool would that be?

Sign courtesy of one of the fine gas stations of Wayland, Michigan.

What happens in northern Tennessee...

I'm 720 miles from home, rolling around in a motel bed with a handsome black guy. The downside, of course, is that he's neutered, has a tail, and requires frequent reminders that there's no ass-licking on the bed.

I'm well past the halfway point, which always makes me happy. I added about 50 miles to my trip by refusing to drive in either Oklahoma (which has been trying to kill me with its weather for about eight years now) or Illinois (because I don't think there's any way on earth to make my Jeep groovy with their firearms transport laws, and their gas is expensive).

I did the always-fun search for the rattiest available motel, and found one that didn't care if I wanted to bring a donkey into my room if I didn't mind paying the $5 pet fee.

Average mileage per gallon over the first 557.5 miles of travel was 17.17, which isn't bad considering I'm around 3000 rpm at 73 mph (my preferred speed of travel). I probably lost some off that average battling the wind on the last leg, but I won't have the numbers until I fill up in the morning. Unleaded regular ran me an average of $3.292/gallon, but two of the three fillups were in Arkansas, so that number is going nowhere but up.

It's late, and one of us has been pretty nervous, so he probably needs one more "out" before we call it a night.

Weather

I do not normally wake up for bad weather. But a band of storms came through last night that had me catapulting out of bed around 0330.

All is well here, but I did note one thing... I got up, peered out the windows, muttered "Holy shit...." Then I heard some sirens start up.

I was farily sure that meant something bad, but I figured it was possible they were sounding because it was
A - a severe thunderstorm warning
B - a tornado warning
C - a flash flood warning (there are several "low spots" in our immediate area)

Satellite TV is about as useful as a screen door on a submarine in heavy rain, so I hit a local news website to find out what the story was. That proved entirely useless, offering some random imagery of a band of heavy weather, and NO INFORMATION on warnings or watches.

Fortunately, weather.com is always there for me, and as soon as I entered my ZIP code, let me know that we were under just about every sort of warning one gets in Texas, tornado included.

Seeing as we don't have a basement and neither of us felt like hiding in the closet, I went back to bed and to sleep at that point. But it was nice to know. Cheers for weather.com, and a big boo-hiss to nbc51.

Incidentally, there was more heavy weather out there last night. I'm taking off on a road trip today, and the other end of the evil weather was in the county next to my destination.

Could be a fun drive.

Note to self:

The day after running an Army physical fitness test may not be the best day to get range time. Because it's awfully hard to hold a pistol at arm's length for any length of time when one has spaghetti arms as a result of pushups.

[sigh]

We're off for a couple days of fishing. The laptop is coming along in case there's internet access.

Woo-hoo!

27 days on orders for the Wart Yolk evolution, followed by a regular weekend drill. That's 29 days of early mornings and uniforms.

So this evening, I'm watching a Star Wars marathon with the Mister and catching up on some of the beer I haven't been drinking when I've needed to be present and coherent before sunrise.

Extra bonus for tonight - a quick shot of the infamous "Wire Moment," or, at least, the aftermath a few hours later. Not so bad, really.

Easy fixes

So there I was, driving to Wart Yolk. I was getting a very strange vibration out of the Jeep's bass.

I was not happy. The Jeep is not a quiet ride, and I like to drive with music I can hear. But I was getting a buzzy rattle. Or a rattly buzz. Something uncool.

I got home, pointed out to the Mister that I'd like him to take a look at the speaker. I have another, longer, road trip coming up, and if I needed to replace a speaker, I wanted to know.

"You probably blew it," he said.

I shrugged. I dunno. Couldn't remember cranking the volume real recently, but there are a lot of things I can't remember.

Last night he got around to it. We went out in the driveway and skipped around on the CD until we found something with some bass. He turned the volume up, cocked his head (kinda like Jack watching TV, now that I think about it). Listened. Turned around and gave me the Oh God My Wife Is Retarded look.

He reached down next to my seat, extracted a manila folder with eight or ten sheets of spare Army paperwork. Turned the volume way up.

No rattle. No buzz.

"You want to keep things from being, you, know, like pinned up against the speaker."

[sigh]

My hero.

Home

Is always a nice place to be. Particularly when the Mister has made fresh coffee and swept up the excess dog hair.

Life is good.

Ahh...civilization

I am out of the woods, and back in the relatively civilized "rear" area of Wart Yolk. My group has another day or so of turning crap in before we actually leave.

"Turning stuff in" is always excruciating, but we're progressing. I already had the single most painless vehicle washing experience of my military career, when we pulled into the washracks and found...a herd of privates with power washing equipment. How about that?

The internet access point shares a space with a fast food eatery, so it's packed. It is, however, not packed with my soldiers, which is kinda nice. I love soldiers, and the Army, but it doesn't take long before you beging to crave being not talked to. I had an especially talkative bunch this time. Two of the three were in capable of embracing silence. It got painful.

I shall probably return tomorrow. I have lots of things to catch up on, and the fast food is calling my name.

About the wire...

Ok,ok! About the wire. Sometimes, you need wire and do not have gloves. Hands heal. However, I will be adding a pair of heavy leather gloves to my bag in the future. My time in the woods here at Wart Yolk is nearing its end. Fortunate, because I need internet access, a cold beer and some not-Army companionship. Unfortunately, those things will most likely come in that order.

Things that make you say, "DUH!"

Because I am a slow learner, I yet again handled concertina wire without gloves. Ouch.

Too much fun

I did not forget my boots, and the trip down here was as much fun as a convoy of civilian vehicles traveling 62mph down the interstate can be. Ugh. It's embarassing to be passed by those houses being pulled behind semi's.

I had envisioned the internet to be easier to find, and Blogger to be harder to get to. Instead it's the opposite.

The training evolution we're participating in sounds pretty interesting, but it hasn't really hit full swing yet. I will give the Army some props - they are doing a tremendous amount of research to try to keep their training updated and relevent.

That said, I should probably bail out and return to the parking lot that is our unofficial company headquarters. Actually, it's the hood of one humvee. But we like it, and sit around drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, and bullshitting while leaning up against it.

I love this stuff. I can't believe they pay me to do it.

Ready to go (again)

Hitting the road again tomorrow for more motivating training.

I don't think I'll be entirely off the map - I should be able to reach out and post a couple of times. We'll see. I may also look into testing some posting-with-the-aid-of-others options.

Tonight was packing. I love packing.



Yeah. That's the "at home" version of the gear layout. I don't know if I'm forgetting something major or if I'm just less inclined to tote along gear I know I won't use (e-tool? I am not dragging an e-tool around anymore), but it didn't seem like much stuff at all.

It packed up nicely, too.



There's room in all those bags, and, since I forgot shoes earlier this week, I am imagining all sorts of stuff I may have left out.

But the important stuff is there: helmet? check. armor and gear? check. cigarettes? check. shower shoes? check.

Everything else will work itself out.

Wow.

I have absolutely nothing to say today.

I could give you a recap of today's pre-training training with the Army, but it was pretty dull the first time, and believe you me, you are not interested.

I did manage to show up in PT gear, participate in PT, shower and partially change before I realized that although I had a complete Army Combat Uniform in my bag, my boots were tucked neatly under the end of my bed. At the house. Forty miles from the Reserve Center.

The only thing better than being the Daily Dumbass is being the Daily Dumbass who wears her slightly-rank PT uniform all day.

[sigh]

If we can't serve as a positive example, we can always serve as a warning.

I am the worst person

on earth.

Know why?

Because I cannot stand, cannot abide, am enraged/nauseated/sickened by "School Zones."

Did I miss something? Sometimes I think I've missed all these dangers. At exactly what point did it become necessary to lower all speed limits on all roads within 57 miles of any sort of educational institution to like 20 miles an hour?

I cross a school zone once in a while, when I cannot plan my entire day around avoiding it. This morning, however, I tried to drive down the road to get on the highway. I left the house at 0732. My freakin' mistake.

The two or so miles between here and the expressway took 1,000 years. Going roughly 20. Oh, once in a while, the school zone would end, but then I'd be within 500 yards of a possible potential route for some simpering child, and it would drop back down.

Did I see any children? No. No children. But the mere possibility of children, and the possibility of possibily causing them harm if they wandered, drooling and confused, into the street...well, we can't have that.

Because Children Are The Future.

A phenomenally stupid future, if blinking crosswalks manned by old people with handheld stopsigns, roadguard vests and flashlights can't get them across a road.

But we all love children, right?

And some of us love children more than the rest of us. They are Better People, because they care so darn much about the future. Know how you can tell who they are?

They are the morons who drive 14mph in the school zone, instead of 20, because that might not be quite safe enough.

This is the sort of thing that would drive me insane in any situation - I can be honest about that. But the worst of it is that I never have to navigate through large groups of young people walking to school. Or zipping along on bikes. Because they don't do that. It appears that children are now driven to school. I see more SUVs lined up dropping kids off than I see buses.

I can pretty much count the number of times I was dropped off at school as a kid on one hand. I rode the bus! For more than an hour! And I liked it!

The children of Texas. Apparently, too stupid to cross roads, and too lazy to walk their happy asses to school.

Harumph.

(And hey - why do church schools get these signs? They're not supposed to be getting my tax dollars, so why am I paying for signs with blinking lights outside Our Lady Of Perpetual Self-Flagellation? If Jesus loves you, he'll get you across the road even if I am doing 35)

Things Jack Doesn't Understand

I am have Army stuff this week (and the next couple, actually). This morning I have to go to the unit in PT gear.

Did you know that it's impossible to explain to a year-old lab-and-somethin' that you're putting on running clothes and shoes, and yet, have no intention of taking him running?

Speaking of PT gear, I spent 45 minutes last night searching (ultimately successfully) for that goddam reflective PT belt. I finally found it, which is fortunate, because I wouldn't want to join that long list of Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Marines and Coasties who have been tragically cut down by vehicles while wearing a PT uniform.

Fortunately, the belt protects us while we're in workout clothes (necessary, since only four of five exterior garments that comprise the Army's Improved Physical Fitness Uniform have reflective features). And, oddly enough, the overwhelming risk of being mowed down by crazed motorists totally disappears once one dons the Army Combat Uniform. The ACU, of course, has zero reflective features and yet has not seemed to lead to pointless deaths on sidewalks and in parking lots across the United States.

[sigh]

I don't know that I'm in the right spirit for Army stuff this morning.

Seen at WalMart

I swear, I have either got to get faster with my phone's camera function or start carrying my normal camera.

I was buying treats Friday and noticed the sign...



What the heck is a dog solution??? I was looking for bottles labeled 10% beagle or 17.4% rat terrier, but no such luck.

I missed a beautiful shot earlier this month of a WalMartian woman crossing the parking lot barefoot. I was too busy blinking in confusion to whip out the camera...

Puppies, cliff, etc

So, I assume we've all run across the video of the jackass jarhead tossing a puppy off a cliff. Mom - do NOT click on the link!

Well, some folks got mighty riled up about that. Rightfully so. We expect our Marines to do the right thing. And here's a hint - cruelty to critters is never the right thing.

The gentleman who made the site above included the address of the Marine and an offer of $100 0to whomever slapped him around first.

Although we sympathize, it turned out that the Marine's address was that of his parents.

Some fine Marine shot an email to author of this website, who had publicized his offer here. The author then kindly reconsidered his words, and decided there was a better use for that $1,000.

Why my interest, you ask?

That Fine Marine was our very own Mr. Abby, who pointed out that the Corps would deal with this young man, and suggested to the gentleman who offered up the "reward" that it might not be the best idea.

This is some good stuff

I am not an unreserved fan of Senator Jim Webb. I am a woman who wears combat boots, and I like to think I do it reasonably well, and so, on some level, I will always want to kick him in the kneecap for some of his past work.

That does not, however, take away from the fact that Webb is a no-shit war hero, who led Marines in combat with undisputed valor. Prior to his election to the Senate, he was a tireless voice for Vietnam veterans. And now, he's the pointman on an what would be an amazing initiative.

We're going to do a long quote here, because this is tremendous stuff.

His enhanced GI Bill would be available to any member, active or reserve, who has served at least three months on active duty since Sept. 11, 2001. The level of benefits would be tied to length of service. The $1200 member buy-in under the current Montgomery GI Bill would be returned.

The bigger change would be in the value of benefits. Maximum benefits, earned for 36 months' active duty, would cover tuition for up to four years at a level to match tuition at the most expensive in-state public school. The average across states is about $1900 a month. MGIB pays $1100.

Webb's bill also would pay a monthly stipend to cover living expenses. The stipend would reflect local housing costs near school and would be set to equal military Basic Allowance for Housing for married enlisted in grade E-5.

The GI Bill now can be a pretty good deal. You get accepted to a school and, if you have the full GI Bill (earned only by folks who've done active duty time), you can receive up to $1100 a month as long as you're enrolled full-time (payments are prorated if you're enrolled with a lesser courseload).

Which works out alright, if you're going someplace very cheap, and can afford to pay for everything up front and let the payments "reimburse" you. And you are living back with your parents or working a good, solid second job.

I'm trying to not sound whiny here, because lots of folks who never associate with the military live in refigerator crates and sell plasma to get through school. The current GI Bill is nice. It helps. It really can be nice for guys who just do one term, stay single, and get out with the ability to live cheap and scrape for a few years.

But for older servicemembers, or those who retire, it's really not quite enough to bring your family through your education.

This proposal is nice. I called the Mister over to see this and said, "Hey, honey! Look at this! If this passed, we could both go to college! Real college!"

Now, this might pass, and it might not. And it might pass in a different form. But there is some institutional resistance from DoD, and I point out it out, because it's the DoD trying to not do the right thing.

That's a worrisome vow for Defense officials who believe enhanced post-service education benefits, particularly if enacted while troops face multiple deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan, could trigger an exodus severe enough to put the viability of the volunteer military at risk.

We should not hold back the good bennies for the sole purpose of not offering our warriors any better option than staying in uniform. That is not the right way to treat our Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Marines and Coasties.

Anyway. Worth paying attention to as this election year progresses. We wish Sen. Webb the best of luck with this one.

(as a caveat, it also appears this GI Bill revision would treat reservists and guardsmen proportionally well. I regret I can't comment much on the education benefits for this group, since I took my active duty GI Bill and tucked it in my cargo pocket and haven't looked back)

Well, I'm sold

Political ads are either very bad, or very good. This one is very good, odd outer-space imagery aside.



I am certain none of you are surprised that I am John McCain fan, but even if I weren't, his excellent use two of my favorite Dead White Guys would put this ad pretty high on my list.

Pro Carry Wringout Part II

Went back to the range with another 200 rounds after a good cleaning and lube. I am impressed by the improvement. While on my last trip, the failure to return to battery issue was...frequent, I had three in this trip.

So another cleaning and lube is in order, and I may have one more opportunity to put another 100 or 150 rounds downrange before duty takes me out of the recreational shooting routine for a couple of weeks.

I am pleased.

And no - no pictures this time. They look a lot like the last batch, except I didn't use the green targets and my third 50(ish) totally sucked.

Domestic Terror in NYC

Somebody decided to be cute and toss a little homemade bomb in an ammo can at the Times Square recruiting station very early this morning.

And it appears that this individual also had a philosophy, and felt the need to vent his (and we will, for the time being, assume it is a he) spleen in some little letters to several members of Congress.

There is a chance that this is a former servicemember, disgruntled at his recruiter, who had been told one too many times by sergeant to "write a letter to your congressman!"

But I somehow doubt that's the case.

It seems, from early reports, that perhaps the "bomber" had some issues with current US foreign policy.

The envelope also contained a packet of approximately 10 sheets of paper that seemed to be a political manifesto railing against the Iraq war and a booklet. The aide didn't know what the booklet was.

The letter was sent to at least eight congressional offices, FOX News has learned.

Isn't that a shocker? I am absolutely stunned.

The individual who sent the letters (and, it seems, dropped the bomb) was kind enough to include with it a picture.

The man was thin, white with graying hair, wearing a striped flannel shirt and jeans...

That reeks of hippie. Some addled, aging moonbat longing for the glory days of the late 60s and early 70s.

Nothing makes a potent political statement like damaging a facility manned by a bunch of mid-level NCOs. Yep, that's striking right at the heart of the Man.

Hint to these morons - it's an all-volunteer military, assholes. You got a problem with young men and women making their own career choices? 'Cause I thought hippies were all about people doing what they want to do.

I guess I just don't get it.

But a further hint to this sort of moron - the veterans of the wars we've got going on right now are, for the most part, real touchy about shit that goes BOOM. Get caught by any of them leaving little "explosive devices" around, and you're running a real good chance of receiving a first-class ass-beating. And that just-back-from-his-third-Iraq-tour recruiter would walk without so much as a wrist-slap.

Your Honor, I truly regret breaking both of that man's legs, one of his arms, and his jaw. But I just flashed back to Baghdad - he was planting an IED. I guess I just snapped.

EDIT TO ADD: Well, it appears that the letter-writer might be just another enthusiastic Democrat. How awkward. Police are now focusing on the possibility of a Canadian bomber. What's worse than violent hippies? Violent Canadian hippies.

The Pink Shit

Y'all northerners know what I'm talking about. The weather guy on the local TV station pulls up the big satellite map and indicates a "blob" of weather. If you have white stuff, or gray stuff, you're getting snow. Green stuff is usually rain.

Problem is, there are possibilities between rain and snow.

I shall give an example. I can call my Mom and ask about the weather in West Michigan, and she may reply, "We've got one of those blobs coming across the lake. It's supposed to rain in Battle Creek, snow in Newaygo, and we're going to get the pink shit."

Freezing rain, sleet, what the weather guy euphemistically calls "wintry mix." Whatever. It's the pink shit, and it's annoying.

And this morning, for some odd reason, it's in Texas.



Ick. I think I shall do laundry and clean the kitchen and refuse to acknowledge there's a world out there.

Pro Carry Wringout

Ladies and Gentlemen, that was money well spent. A big shout-out to Euless Guns and Ammo which, although $30 higher than my other nearby funstore, actually had what I wanted in stock.

So, without further ado, let's get down to brass tacks. I trudged off with 100 rounds of WWB 230gr FMJ and 100 rounds of Blazer Brass 230gr FMJ. The recommend break in is 400-500 rounds, so I figured I'd get a good start. The first 50(ish):



Yes, there are a couple of low ones there. I had a couple of failures to chamber the first round completely. I was using two Wilson Combat magazines, a Kimber ProTac magazine, and a MecGar. All 8-rounders. So I started downloading them 7 rounds to see if it made a difference. I also had a couple failures to return to complete battery, easily remedied by a whack on the mag.

The second 50(ish):



At this point, I was falling in love. I was expecting this to hammer me a little more, what the shorter barrel and the aluminum frame. I was surprised to find that wasn't the case. I was futzing around with where I wanted my finger on the trigger, and managing a couple more failures to return to battery, but this critter was hitting very easily where I put the sights.

The third 50(ish)



Yes, I was starting to lose it a little here. I had some 185gr JHPs with me so I thought I'd fire those up before everything went to hell.



I was pleased. The fourth 50(ish) looked a lot like the second and third, so I'll spare you the picture.

Overall, I was very happy. I'm standing off on the failure to return to battery issue, since a lot of the complaints I've read about Kimber pistols have seemed to disappear once the "break in period" is through. Whether or not a new pistol should require a break-in is a different matter, but I'll adhere to the instructions before I start worrying.

All in all, I'm really liking it.

New gat

in da house, yo!



As soon as I suck down some more coffee and a few more of these wonderful little chocolate things the Mister brought me for Valentine's, I shall be off to the range.

If I can find more AA batteries, the camera will go with me.

Soundtracks

I've been watching the primaries on CNN tonight. And not drinking, which I think is an achievement deserving of praise.

I watched John McCain's victory speech, which was a fine speech. But the speech is not what I want to talk about.

What the hell is the deal with his "theme music?"

Johnny B. Goode?

[sigh]

The Senator is not, we are all aware, a young man. But for the love of God.

John McCain is a tough old wardog, so surely we can find something more fitting. I am partial to the Battle Hymn of the Republic, but that might be a little...well, old. Being the tough old bird he is, Alice in Chains' Rooster might be a nice fit. Or, given that he's our man for the killing of terrorists, Drowning Pool's Bodies might work nicely. (Links are to videos for my slow connection people).

Then I watched Hillary walk out to be excited about winning Ohio. And what was playing? The Rising, by Bruce Springsteen.

Left the house this morning
Bells ringing filled the air
Wearin' the cross of my calling
On wheels of fire I come rollin' down here

Come on up for the rising
Come on up, lay your hands in mine
Come on up for the rising
Come on up for the rising tonight

Li,li, li,li,li,li, li,li,li

There's spirits above and behind me
Faces gone black, eyes burnin' bright
May their precious blood bind me
Lord, as I stand before your fiery light

Yeah. That's a song about the firefighters who went into the buildings and didn't come out on 9/11. It's one of my favorites, and the music is both moving and inspirational, but I really don't get it as a campaign song.

I don't have much in the way of ideas for Senator Clinton, but I would get a serious kick out of her entering and/or exiting her events to Gretchen Wilson's Here for the Party.

You know im here for the party
And i aint leavin til they throw me out
Gonna have a little fun gonna get me some
You know im here, im here for the party

Somehow I don't think that's going to happen, but it would be cool. And it might help with that blue collar union guy vote...

EDIT TO ADD: Obama is now the second candidate of the night to use Brooks and Dunn's Only in America. The first was Mike Huckabee. How creepy is that?

Happy Afternoon

here at Bad Dog Central. After the snow that several locals reported last night (I didn't see it, but a total of more than 20 years in Michigan and Minnesota have kinda left me less-than-inclined to stand outside peering up at sky in search of flakes), it ended up right around 60 this afternoon.

So Jack and I had a nice run of a little more than three miles. He was even reasonably well behaved.

I got back and Casey was irate. She pointed out that, as Seniro Dog, she was rightfully entitled to priority in all outings and activities, even though she doesn't do runs anymore.

Conceding the point, I realized that we have politics on TV this evening, and that I was low on beer. And the convenience store is probably not even quite a half-mile away.

So if you were driving home this evening, and if you saw a woman with a rapturously happy elderly German Shepherd and a 12-pack of Corona walking briskly along a major road...well, that was us.

Out of control

If any of you ever drop by Bad Dog Central, and begin to notice odd little piles of ammo here and there...



It's not some crazy paranoia thing. I am not under the impression that we're going to end up in a situation where I need 50 loose rounds of super-quiet .22 while digging through my desk, or 20 rounds of 7.62x39 while doing laundry.



No. It's that I have Jack the Black Puppy. And apparently, there is nothing on earth more fabulously yummy than the cardboard boxes they pack ammo in.

[sigh]

Both of those were today. I should have snapped a shot last summer when he snagged 50 rounds of 9mm and took it out in the yard to devour the packaging. Making the yard safe mowing was like an Easter Egg hunt, only creepier.

A mild case of confusion

I popped over to the sitemeter today to see if I had gotten hit by any real cool Google searches (past favorites include, "is wine bad for dogs?" and "spank bad dog?").

It seems that if you have a gun-cleaning fiasco and admit to it on the internet, people will point and laugh. Which is cool.

Thanks to Xavier (who proposed a solution) and Tam (who was more of the point-and-laugh school) for the traffic!

Home again

after a loooong three days. I love the Army stuff, but the downside of the reserve gig is the lack of time. Schools, training, whatever - it's always an attempt to cram five days worth of stuff into two or three days.

Now I'm home, and there's a little storm out there. Sparky is barking at the scary thunder, and I am having a cup of coffee w/ the Mister in a nice warm house. Life is good.

Disappearing

for the weekend, as it is, again, time for a three-day Army camping trip.

I shall return Sunday evening.

[happy dance]

So I am again, officially, a Stay At Home Dog Mom.

That rocks.

(the pack agrees)

That walk across the parking lot today was mighty nice.

[pauses, surveys messy house]

Now, I suppose since I am currently a housewife, I probably ought to do something about this situation....

Peaks and Valleys

Things haven't been bad the past few months, but they've been sort of grinding and irritating. Factor in a lack of baseball, early winter sunsets and depressing politics on my TV, and Abby has been quite...blah.

And the online Army safety course the past few days has really been the final burr under the saddle.

But at the same time, behind the scenes, things have been working steadily toward being pretty darn good, and I think we're finally there. I shall enumerate:

1 - I finished the safety course and passed the little test.

2 - The Mildly Unexpected Money that has prompted us to discuss new handgun options will land in the bank on Wednesday. Let's see...if the bank opens at 0900, and the gunshop opens at 1000, I should be at the range by 1130.

3 - I gave notice at my job. Thursday is my last day. I finally got enough sets of Army orders lined up to be able to meet the bills with that money alone. I'll be busy, but when I'm not busy, I'll have time to spend here and time to see some family and friends. That probably won't be the case in several months, so the opportunity to do it now was not to be missed.

I love the Army, but whenever it's on a real roll with making nice things happen, I start to think that there are going to be a lot of nights in the rain and flat Humvee tires to make up for the unexpected good karma.

Thanks are also owed to the Mister, who, when faced with me and a big stack of paperwork, listened to the entire Why Abby Should Quit Her Job presentation and replied, "You should have had a PowerPoint. But if it makes you happy and we won't go bankrupt, get down with your bad self."

It's like...

having my guts ripped out by weasels.

Module One of this godawful online course had 17 pages.
Module Two had 27.
I just opened Module Three, and it has 46.

Fortunately, I can listen to the audio and blog, or play Minesweeper. Coherence may suffer, but I think we're all used to that.

You know, when I first got to Iraq, we had a truly bizarre safety requirement. We had to prepare one of the Army's whiz-bang composite risk management matrices before we rolled out.

There is, of course, a process for this. You first identify hazards. Then you assess the severity of the hazard. Then you identify controls to mitigate the risks, then you re-assess the risk's severity in light of the mitigation. Got it?

The process works alright in garrison.
Example: Vehicles are being driven to the fuel point.
Risk 1 is death of soldiers in vehicles as a result of collisions.
Risk 2 is running over innocent bystanders.
It is, we'll say, a moderate-risk activity (degree of risk is determined by a combination of likelihood and severity of possible damage).
We'll mitigate those risks by making soldiers wear helmets and seatbelts (risk 1) and using groundguides (risk 2)
Now it's a low-risk activity. Voila!

Not so well in a war. The daily discussion went something like this...

The first sergeant and the commander would stand around and look at a blank risk matrix. As the operations NCO, I would stand respectfully behind them.

Sir, Top would say, the risks are death, total loss of a vehicle, major injuries, and major vehicle damage.
The commander would nod and look annoyed, and the first sergeant would continue, peering at the matrix.
That's pretty likely, sir, and even if we say it's only kinda-likely, it's still all real severe.
That's where I'd make my contribution, saying, "but let's mitigate all that by wearing helmets!"
The commander would sigh, and the first sergeant would write slowly in the little blocks, trying to mitigate the risks.
Sir, he'd conclude, always with a properly sorrowful tone, we still have high risk of real bad shit.
I'd usually offer more helpful input. "Does that mean we can skip today's mission and go back to sleep and wait for peace to break out?"
And that was the part where the first sergeant would point out that it was an appropriate time for me to shut the hell up and take the pre-mission paperwork up to the TOC.

Enough story-telling! My course is now explaining Heinrich's Accident Causation Model. I best go pay attention. Maybe the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle is next. That would be entertaining. And hard to put on a matrix....

It's not that I'm ignoring y'all

it's that we're coming up on drill weeekend. And, unfortunately, when I tried one last time to access the online safety course that I've been trying to access for the last three months (with zero success), it worked.

Damn it.

Worst part - the course talks. Blah blah blah installation safety officer blah blah risk management blah blah blah.

Oh well - two modules down, seven to go.

Ugh.

UPDATE: Oh Jesus, this course doesn't seem to remember where I left off. This could be a long, dull, depressing evening.

There are times

when Abby cannot be trusted to do anything.

I went to the range today, right? And, being a good gun owner, I thought I'd give the guns a little cleaning action. So I set up my space, and got a nice cup of coffee, sat down and started in on the 1911.



Those of you who've taken a close look at where we are in the field-strip process can tell where this is going, can't you?

Folks, I shit you not. I have never managed this before, and would not be able to do it again on a bet.



Fortunately, the coffee was not strong enough to instantly dissolve the recoil spring plug, and the plug is not a really nasty part, so there was no need to wash the cup. I did have to dump out almost all the coffee, though.

Sunday Summary

I don't know if it was a wild and crazy weekend for any of you, but it was lazy and mildly productive here, which is nice.

I cleaned a little, then went to the range today. I tried a new place - The Shooters Club. Real small, and not fancy. But highly affordable and about ten or fifteen minutes from the house. The folks behind the counter were friendly - I think I shall make a habit of going there.

Lord knows I need to, because...well, it had obviously been awhile.

In other news, Mom successfully installed an ethernet card and set up her new DSL service. This is quite an achievment, and I am impressed. Also impressive is her report of three phone calls to AT&T Customer Service. Every time she called, it seems they were coherent and helpful. Odd.

I'm off to find the remote since CNN seems to have taken a short break in its godawful election coverage to provide Oscar coverage. Sean Puffy P Diddy Hey Diddle Diddle is talking about his newfound seriousness about acting. Must. Change. Channel.

Hysteria

The Mister just left to go see Mamasan for his weekly haircut. Sparky got to go along.

This has caused major concern among the Bigger Dogs. Casey seems to be getting over it pretty quickly, but Jack is dashing around whining and more or less freaking out.

I'm almost tempted to take Casey along on the errand I have to run, but I think that would push Jack over the end and he might burn the house down in his panic and concern.

Werewolves on the phone

It's not quite a full moon today, but good lord...the office was brutal.

Angry, crazy, confused, mean and irrational people. All day long.

I spent about 20 minutes on the phone with a man who is, without a doubt, the biggest asshole in Montana.

Two entirely separate women who seemed to be befuddled by the days of the week, and the concept (which I thought was fairly basic) of the "weekend." Thus, both of them had ordered things shipped Federal Express Second Day Air on Thursday. And were they ever pissed to find that those packages were going to be delivered Monday. Like I made up the idea of Saturday and Sunday just to amuse myself.

[sigh]

I have never before been tempted to threaten a customer, but today it was on the tip of my tongue a couple of times:

I have your home address, your phone number and all your credit card information. Do you think it's really wise to try to see exactly how much abuse I am willing to take?

I would never do such a thing, but I would love to suggest it just once.