Fun with the black puppy

So I came home an hour early. Perhaps I was thrown out for an astonishing lack of pre-Christmas productivity, or perhaps I made a up a good story and split - I'm not telling.

The Mister had been home, but was out on an error. He left the satellite TV radio tuned to the salsa/merengue channel, though.

And loud.

So I've been salsaing with Jack. You can't beat dancing with a puppy for fun before a four-day vacation.

One day more...

Tomorrow....

When the shrieking customer says, You put the wrong address on my package and now my son won't have a Christmas gift? That's unacceptable! What are you going to do about it?

I will not reply, I'm sorry you don't know your address and entered a South Dakota ZIP for your Virgina home. I'm sorry you managed to reproduce. I'm going to go home and drink wine.

When the shrieking customer says, What do you mean that's still on backorder? I need it for Christmas!!!

I will not reply, What kind of asshole buys their loved ones that [weird piece of crap object] for Christmas?

When the nonconfrontational sales agent tries to play dumb and transfer me a customer whose package is obviously lost, and says, He's got a pretty serious FedEx issue and I'm not sure what the story is.

I will not reply, You know exactly what the story is, and you know he is not going to get his package by Christmas. You tell him. You think I like being bitched at all day?

And finally, when my boss shoots me an email and says, This customer called in about his order from two weeks ago and has a credit card issue, please contact him.

I will not shoot one back and reply, His credit card got declined and you know it. We've been calling him every day for two weeks. You contact him and tell him he's not getting his items in time for Christmas.

UPDATE: You know, the worst thing about all this is that I have to find a way to say, about 50 times a day, to a stranger and without laughing....Sir, my name is Abby, and I understand there's a problem with your package...

Everyone is a critic

A brief comment to popular author Dean Koontz.

Although the gang at Bad Dog Central enjoys your novels, particularly the constant themes of hope and self-reliance, we do have a bone to pick. It is a source of great joy that dogs are often featured prominently in your novels. Casey in particular enjoyed the German Shepherd in The Taking.

However, the gang feels a little slighted by your obvious adoration of golden retrievers. Sparky points out that if you want to emphasize the unconditional love that endears dogs to humans, you could find no better case study than the Yorkshire Terrier.

And Jack simply thinks there's not much a golden can do that a black lab can't do with less shedding.

Anyway. We all enjoyed The Darkest Evening of the Year, staying up far too late last night in order to read it cover-to-cover.

In fact, this morning I found that one of us had enjoyed the covers perhaps more than the individual pages. Perhaps the cover is liver-flavored?



Apparently, the picture of the author's late golden on the flyleaf was of particular interest, as Jack seems to have claimed it as sort of a dog-bed pinup.

Venting - progress

It is, they say, a digital world now. And I suppose they're right. At the conference I attended last week, I heard a senior officer proudly proclaim that ran a "digital brigade."

The Army has indeed embraced technology. In my early Marine Corps days, they had just begun to require direct deposit of pay. Everything was still done with real paper, though.

Not so anymore, and definitely not in the Army. In the Modern Army, we have systems. Oh good Lord, do we have systems.

The greatest of them all, the big granddaddy, is Army Knowledge Online (AKO).

The Army's Enterprise Portal, Army Knowledge Online (AKO), is a primary component of the Army Knowledge Management (AKM) strategy and The Army Transformation. As the single point of entry into a robust and scalable knowledge management system, AKO is strategically changing the way the Army does business. By enabling greater knowledge sharing among Army communities, AKM fosters improved decision dominance by commanders and business stewards in the battle space, organizations, and Army's mission processes.

AKO is mandatory. It "embraces" a mildly-secure email system that is also mandatory. AKO requires frequent password changes, and all passwords must be between 8 and 37 characters, include at least two capital and seven lower-case letters, a number of numerals equal to the number of letters divided by your paygrade, and several special characters.

This password periodically, you will learn, must be reset using your Common Access Card (CAC). First you must go to an ID card facility and ensure your CAC has current "certificates," then if you don't want to drive to an Army facility, you must buy a card reader, download the approved CAC software from the AKO website, and figure out how to install it. Then you must log in with your CAC, remember and enter your 4-16 digit CAC pin, and change your AKO password.

You do this so you can then access all the ancillary systems and fulfill requirements.

You can create special IDs and satisfy classroom requirements (driver ed, risk management, brain injury). You can download more software and figure out how to have a "digital signature" so you can sign paperwork that is a requirement. Best of all, you can gain access to the Great Big Security Website to try to sort out your security clearance issues (because that is also a requirement).

The Great Big Security system is adorable. Really, it's been making me giggle like a pedophile at Chuck E. Cheese for the past few days.

See, I've had a security clearance (a boring one, not a Tom Clancy novel clearance) for years now. And at some point, apparently, I used this goddam Great Big System to enter the information required for renewing it.

And when I did, I was forced to set up (you're going to love this term - it's precious) Golden Questions. You know, to really really verify who I am in case the Muj steals my social security number.

1 - How many brothers do you have?
2 - What is your mother's maiden name?
3 - What was your first pet's name?

This is really, really not complex. I know all of these things, and cannot fathom a point in my adult life when there would have been any confusion about any of them.

But can I supply the correct answers? Apparently freakin' not. Of course, pointing out that there really isn't any way my clearance is expired and that there's a large trail of evidence to that conclusion isn't an option. I must access the Great Big System and interact with it.

Which cannot happen unless I can figure out how on earth I may have chosen to indicate my only-child status whenever it was I set these Golden Questions up.

So I have a toll-free number to call the Security Clearance People, who I am sure have some really charming system set up for those of us who cannot answer our "Golden Questions."

They're going to waterboard me. I know it. I'm going to be out in my garage, shivering and spluttering while grim-faced DoD civilians stand over me.

"The dog's name! Give us the dog's name!"

Scruffy! The dog's name was Scruffy!

Sometimes when I don't blog

...it's because you all really don't want to know.

The Mister was diagnosed by the crack Navy medical team down at JRB with some sort of nasty foot skin condition. Does that sound like fun or what? Ointments are involved.

Jack stole a string of shiny plastic beads off the Christmas tree. I'm not sure if he hid them in the yard or actually ate them. If he ate them, I'm not sure if it was as a string or in smaller pieces. Trust me, I will take pictures if this develops into a Great Pooping Moment.

The annual gift-buying debacle is almost at an end. Now I'm left with wrapping. Super. As an American, I should be better at expressing my love by people stuff, but I really suck at it. I love you, here's a nice flashlight just doesn't seem to cut it. [sigh]

I'm trying to have a gift for my Dad delivered to a remote location Up Home. Of course, it seems to be traveling with a signature requirement that I did not request, and so now I have to call the delivery company and shriek. In short, I am being forced to become one of my customers.

My (paternal) grandmother is back in the hospital. Third time in less than a month. Nothing makes you feel like a jackass more than deciding to stay in Texas for Christmas and having your Grandma in the hospital back home.

What I have learned in retail

during the year's runup-to-Christmas

1 - hope springs eternal. Even if the Perfect Gift is out of stock and due in on Thursday, someone in New Hampshire will try to corner me into promising I can have it delivered Friday.

2 - cheap knows no season. Less than a week before the Big Day, there are still folks who want to whine that super-budget-freight-saver shipping won't get their items to them on Saturday.

3 - desperation opens wallets. If your son wants some weird item, and you feel like a bad father to start with, you will pay $50 for overnight shipping to ensure you don't screw up Christmas.

4 - preparedness must feel very good. The happiest people I talked to today were not buying Christmas presents. No darlin', they'd drawl (and I could hear the smile). I'm doing some shootin' in February and just want to be ready.

5 - I love our FedEx corporate liasion guy. He's wonderful. He calls me with solutions, and on the off chance I ever meet him, I fully intend to hug him.

I expect things will fall off for our sales folks, but I get the awful feeling the next four days will be like having sharp sticks jabbed in the eyes of the Fixin' Problems Department.

And, finally, I'm not really one to point fingers, but some people buy other people some weird crap for Christmas. I'm just sayin'...

The tree is up. For now.

Well, it's up. And it's decorated.

Before decorating, we had coffee and snacks. Which was pretty tempting for one of us.



We finally ended the torment and got down to business.



Oh, he's been pretty good so far. But you can just tell what he's thinking by his posture - I'm going to eat that tree while you guys are at work tomorrow.

It's been cool here, so Casey spent the evening out in the yard, pretending to be a timberwolf or some such herding dog fantasy. Sparky was unimpressed with the entire proceeding, and stayed on the couch.



Wake me, he said, when Santa Paws shows up with the squeaky toys.

Lord help me...

It's the third Saturday of the month, and we all know what that means. Yep - I'm at work.

I've been here 40 minutes and have already been told that I have ruined Christmas.

This was explained to me by a woman who was obviously (by the background noise) working in the kitchen in a house full of family.

[sigh]

Lady, if your family is in your house, and you're all going to have dinner together, your Christmas has not been ruined.

Harumph.

Another gray and cold morning, wherein I get out of bed and Jack dashes hopefully to my running shoes and looks at me - Mom, are we going to go outside and jog?

Alas, pupster, no. We are going to have cofffee and do pushups, and you're not much help with either.

The Evil Corporate Masters are holding the Annual Holiday Party this evening, and we have all been expressly instructed to act responsibly. I suppose that rules out tequila shots and gunfire, so I don't know why I agreed to attend.

Ah, the joy of being at home

Yesterday was a little nuts. After I finished what I had to do at "Port Wood," I dropped by their dental clinic to try to get an exam.

(One of the primary measures of effectiveness for Army Reserve commanders these days is the deployability of the unit. This means that there is a neverending barrage of requirements to go get a shot, get your teeth looked at, draft a family care plan, etc. I will be truly impressed if (and only if), when the deployment actually occurs, this leads to an increase in training time and allows us to skip the days spent at the immunization clinic at the mobilization station. I somehow doubt that will be the case.)

Of course, that wasn't going to work, so I drove like the proverbial bat out of Hell to get back up to join some other folks in getting a dental exam here.

I pulled that off and was declared in possession of deployable teeth (let's here it for flossing!).

Then, because it's a digital Army, I went to the ID card facility because I did not have sufficient functioning certificates on my ID card. This was preventing me from using my ID card to log in to the great Army Online Thing.

[sigh]

Got a new ID card (with certificates!). Then I called it a day and came home. Opened the door, walked in, and found this:



That, ladies and gentlemen, is/was my Sibley Guide to Birds. Not my little Sibley guide that covers the eastern half of the US, but my big one.

That #4 on my bird book "special" list. If he'd eaten 1,2 or 3, it may have been a walk out into the back yard with a 9mm and a shovel.

The annoyance level was elevated by the fact that my bird guides aren't just reference books, I record the birds I see and ID in them.

So now I have a pile of pages stacked on top of the gun safe to go through when I have some free time (ha!) and move my notes over to one of my other guides.

We're going to skip trying the whole kennel concept, and I'm going to just use a loop of logging chain and couple cinder blocks on Jack during the day, I think.

One more thing about that...

This whole exploring-a-new-and-giant post thing might not be so hard if it the entire middle of the state wasn't choked in some sort of cold, dreary mist/fog that's been getting steadily thicker.

I like this sort of weather under most circumstances - I'm a kind of dreary, grayish gal myself. But it's not much for reading roadsigns and looking ahead for building numbers.

In one cheery note, the apparently almost-blind woman at the 7-11 up the way carded me buying cigarettes. I'll take that, thank you very much!

On the road again

Your tax dollars are hard at work, funding several days of me galivanting around central Texas. Stop it - you know you're envious.

I'm holed up in an only-mildly-scary motel right outside a major military installation that sounds like Port Wood. I have to attend a group hug for an upcoming training evolution tomorrow, and so I've already driven on base, and found a couple different ways to get to where I need to be in the morning.

I've never been to Port Wood before, and I was, as I usually am when I end up on a major Army installation, overwhelmed and lost within minutes. The Army, ladies and gentlemen, is big. I mean, really, really big.

Port Wood has two whole divisions and all the associated support units. And it's big.

My Marine Corps days involved Okinawa and 29 Palms - even Pendleton was huge in my book, and Pendleton does not have anywhere near the sheer number of people these big Army posts do. I've been amazed by the amount of people, and the sheer quantity of stuff, ever since I crossed over from the Marine Corps.

(Do you know that in the Army, you get brand new polypro long underwear? Nobody's ever worn them before, and you get to keep them when you check out of a unit! How's that for the wasteful luxury of a large organization?)

However, I think this motel is located at the corner of Crack and Gang, so I'm going to go check my route to tomorrow's location once more time and find somewhere to buy a paperback. Then I'm going to barricade the doors and wait for sunrise.

MY CAMPING TRIP

By Jack The Black Dog

First we left Sparky and Casey at Aunt Melissa's but they didn't leave me and I thought for a while they were going to drive out somewhere and leave me by the side of the road because somebody did that to me one time. But they did not do that and instead we drove for a long time and then stopped at someplace called Burger King. I did not get to have a burger but I got something called chicken fries and they were great because they were chicken but with no bones so I could eat them.

We drove a little more (I had to ride in the back of the truck which was not as much fun as being up front but I had more room). Then we all got out and we were in the place with all the pine trees and I was allowed to run run run.

Do you know what is in the woods that's great? Sticks. The woods is just full of sticks. I did get in some trouble for taking the sticks Abby piled up by the round pit thing, but those were apparently the only special sticks that I couldn't have.

Later they tied me to a tree and took their guns and went for a walk, but they came back real soon and said something about not being able to give corn to pigs so I guess they were done hunting.

Then they untied me and built a fire and cooked meat and potatoes and I got to have some. It was very hot but it was good. Then I got to sit by the fire by them and listen to the country radio station from Louisiana.

Then we went to bed and before we went I heard a bunch of coyotes running and making noise but I didn't try to go hang out with them because I had a good spot to sleep and I think coyotes are mean.



We all slept in the truck and they had sleeping bags and I had my bed and they said it was my job to protect them from coyotes but none came because I don't think there are any animals in that woods.

Then this morning we got up and I ran around and ate some more sticks and we came home. I did not get any chicken fries on the trip back so it was not as much fun.

The end.

Still here

We pushed our departure to Saturday morning when the Mister, victim of circumstances beyond his control, missed a vital phaseline in the scheduled execution of our departure plan.

There are lots of moving parts these days. Army stuff, job (both current and possible) stuff, family health stuff...

So an evening at home isn't all bad. It offers the opportunity to sit around and drink beer and try to figure out what on earth is going on.

You know, when I was a kid, I thought grownups had everything figured out. I don't know if I thought there was a book, or a briefing, or what, but I figured that all the big people who could write checks and drive knew what was going on.

What a joke. And what a revelation, when we finally realize that everybody we've ever encountered has just been winging it.

Not kidnapped

Just lazy. And really, what am I doing that all of us aren't this time of year? Suddenly realizing that it's time to get moving with this Christmas stuff, trying to find the exact Christmas-related item I'm looking for in the attic, and thinking about the Tree Issue.

We've got lots of space and a good spot for the tree, but I keep thinking of it, then looking at Jack, then putting the whole issue off for another day.

Tree + Puppy = Endless excitement.

I think we'll buy it early next week, and then the challenge will be to find a selection of ornaments made entirely out of rocks or something equally dogproof.

In the name of putting that off and spending a precious weekend doing something entirely useless, the Mister and I will be heading out to look at the pig situation tonight. Casey and Sparky are staying with their Aunt Melissa, but we're taking Puptard with us.

This should be an adventure.

[grumble grumble]

Well, the fabled "busy season" seems to have kicked off at work. There are three people back in our little section, and one of them is already out with some extended medical issues.

Of course, this is the point at which the Army decides they need me for four days scattered among the next ten. My boss actually had kittens yesterday when I gave him copies of the orders.

"Why couldn't they do this in January?" he asked.

"Because if it's not screwing up your life, it's not the Army."

However, because I like the remaining coworker who has no issues preventing her from working, and because I am on the team, I agreed to work some extended hours on the days I am available so we can keep our heads above water. And so my nice coworker doesn't have to shoot anyone.

So I'm off an hour early, and will stay an hour later. It's certainly not the worst thing ever, but it will make for an annoying week.

Army Dorky

I am sitting here in my kitchen, awaiting the arrival of the in-laws.

I just finished the laborious process of assembling my Class A uniform.

Since I have to wear the nice uniform, that means I cannot scam out of wearing the black Army beret.

It's a new beret, so I had to shave the thing. I spent 15 minutes hunched over the bathroom sink, shaving a piece of military headgear.

Now I'm wearing it. Because they need shaping, you know.

Did I mention that the beret is wet? Because they take a shape better that way.

[sigh]

Pig mania!!!

Okay, not really, I justed wanted to use that as a post title.

The Super Swine Supper Source (henceforth referred to "the feeder") is in place. In fact, it should have spewed forth sweet, crunchy, delicious corn just shy of three hours ago.



First, we filled it. 350 pounds of dry corn fills a 55-gallon drum, for those who might be interested.

Then we tested it.



We were not expecting such immediate success, but the North American subspecies of Blackus Labdumbass is not known for its intellect, and in fact appeared at the feeder while we were standing right there.

Now...we wait. I think next weekend shows promise for camping and hog stalking. This weekend, on the other hand, includes drill and in-laws, so chances are posting will be scare.

Under Siege

I work next to a bunch of phone sales agents. They're paid on commission, and there's some low flat hourly rate to supplement that when they're not making sales, as I understand it.

Of course, this is the month preceding Christmas, so business has picked up a little.

I'm not sure what sort of paid time off setup they have, but I think someone needs to look into the compensation for "sick days" for them. Because they're dragging in with every kind of coughing, hacking, snurfling and moaning ailment known to humanity.

Apparently, nobody wants to be out sick and miss the opportunity to make big sales. Ugh.

I, however, would love to miss the opportunity to catch all of their nasty viruses.

Alas...fortified with extra vitamin C, dressed warmly and well-hydrated, I'm going to work. I have to stop at Tractor Supply, and perhaps I'll see if they have some sort of agricultural protective clothing that I can wear. Maybe a calving/lambing suit and a respirator, and some sort of dairy barn disinfectant I can spray the entire office with?

Mr. Perry

The mention of using a spotlight as a hunting accessory in the last post reminded me of a story...

My sophmore year at Small Town High, I took World History with Mr. Perry. Mr. Perry was a big guy, about 1,000 years old, and a character. He had been teaching history since Christ was a corporal.

First day of class he went through the class list, taking attendance.

"Abby [Oldname]?" he barked. "[Oldname]? You Bob's daughter or Chuck's?"

My Dad and my uncle. It was a small town. My Dad and my uncle had been lively (that is, pain-in-the-ass) students and athletes back in the day.

"Bob's my Dad."

Mr. Perry peered at me. "Yeah, I remember Bob."

Mr. Perry had been a coach years ago, and retained the figured. Stoop shouldered and wrinkled, he was a big - not fat, just big - old man. In the summer, he supplemented his income by working as a part-time DNR ranger.

The man had a gift for gab. He taught the Norman Invasion of England in 1066 in two days of lecture. Just stomped back and forth across the front of the room, occasionally gesturing at a map of the British Isles, and telling a story.

It was a good story. You have to be a good storyteller to keep 25 high school sophmores hanging on every word for two days, and he did.

The Norman Invasion, though, was possibly the only subject that I don't remember him working poaching into. Like a lot of small-town woodsmen, he seemed to delight in those who operated just outside the game laws, even if he spent a portion of each year enforcing them.

"So these cave paintings, they'd have deer in them, right? Because deer were a food source for a hunter-gatherer population. Of course, they hunted with spears..."

A gleam would come into his eyes, and we'd know what was coming.

"And now spears, they aren't an easy way to hunt deer. We all know the easy way to put deer on the table..."

And by the end of the year, we could pretty much chant the next part right along with him.

"You get you a million-candlepower spotlight and a good .22 magnum, and you get in the back of a pickup and find somebody to drive you. And you drive these backroads real slow a couple hours after dusk and you shine that light out into the field until you pick up two eyes...."

Mr. Perry also did a mean moose impression, but I cannot for the life of me remember how that came up.

Mr. Perry was a widower, and it was a shame to think of all that personality wasting away alone at the end of the day. However... At the other side of the school, in the library, worked Mrs. Murphy.

She was the benevolent second-in-command at the high school library (which doubled as the town library), a tiny woman who radiated kindness and gentleness. That was fortunate, because the library was run by an ony-slightly-benevolent dictator who none of us were bright enough to appreciate at the time.

A few years after I left high school, Mr. Perry and Mrs. Murphy were married. I smiled when I heard the news - it was nice to think of her being kind to him, and of him making her smile with his jokes and stories.

It was still nice a couple years further down the line, when word reached me that Mr. Perry had died. He left behind, in addition to one very kind woman, thousands of former students who remember not only the Norman Invasion of England, but the best way to spotlight deer.