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.

Our military in the news

It's been a busy couple of days, and the separate branches have all been up to different things.

Things got real stupid in Belgrade, but apparently someone forgot that U.S. embassies are guarded by U.S. Marines.

One charred body -- a male protester -- was found in the U.S. Embassy compound, embassy spokesman in Belgrade William Wanlund said.

The only Americans at the embassy during the violence were Marines, who are all said to be accounted for.

We especially approve of the part where all the Marines are accounted for. Good stuff.

Meanwhile, our faboulous Navy is destroying stuff in space.

The video showed the three-stage SM-3 missile launching from the USS Lake Erie at 10:26 p.m. EST Wednesday northwest of Hawaii, and of the missile's small "kill vehicle" — a non-explosive device at the tip — maneuvering into the path of the satellite and colliding spectacularly.

Cartwright said the satellite and the kill vehicle collided at a combined speed of 22,000 mph about 130 miles above Earth's surface, and that the collision was confirmed at a space operations center at 10:50 p.m. EST.

Color me impressed. The Navy - if they're not killing pirates, they shooting things out of orbit.

It looks like the Army got the short end of the stick: U.S. senators forced to make emergency landing in Afghanistan
Oh, the Senators were fine. But get this - someone had to convoy out, pick them up, and take them back to Bagram.

The military helicopter [was] carrying Democratic Sens. Joseph Biden of Delaware and John Kerry of Massachusetts, and Republican Sen. Chuck Hagel of Nebraska

I would have been absolutely thrilled to be roused out of a warm, snuggly cot to roll out and drive through a combat zone to pick that crew up, let me tell you. We don't actually know it was the Army, but it seems a pretty safe guess.

No word on what the other two branches were up to. We can assume the Coasties were saving people and shooting up drug runners and all their usual sort of thing. But I get a little more nervous when we don't hear from the Air Force. Are they all hiding out on midwestern bases, fondling their nuclear bombs and reminiscing about the Cold War?

A heads up for my Texans

Listen, y'all, I don't know what makes you tick. But me...

I'd leave my husband for Travis McGee, and, when all is evil around me, I turn to Jimmy Buffett.

Well now that was just the start of
a well-deserved over due binge
Meanwhile back in the city certain
people are starting to cringe
His lawyers are calling his parents
His girlfriend doesn't know what to think
His partners are studying their options
He's just singing and ordering drinks

Seriously, if your life has never been dark enough to warrant escapism, well...good for you. But mine has, and Jimmy has been there for me.

Jimmy will be playing in Frisco at the end of April. Tickets on sale soon....

This job...

I swear to God, I spent about 40 minutes this evening explaining to a very confused gentleman that he could not shoot this ammo



In this pistol.



[insert sound of head hitting desk]

Sir, that's a gorgeous pistol. Did you get some rounds with it when you bought it? Ok. Set one of those down, now set one of the Wolf .45s down next to it. Are they the same? No? Well, listen. Every round you buy has to look exactly like the one you bought with the gun, okay?

Fortunately, that was following by margaritas with the girls from work, and now the Mister and I are having steaks and beer. Which makes it all better, until tomorrow.

Well, crap

[sigh]

I swear, the Civilian Marksmanship Program people exist only to torment me.

We have been discussing the new pistol issue, right? Back and forth, and I've been getting some good input, and some thoughts on local gunshops that might not be populated entirely by Trolls.

And then what comes from the CMP today?



Other than that, I mean. And before you ask, I can only wish they delivered root beer.

No - they sent the periodic CMP Sales Update.

Allow me to quote you an excerpt:

CHANGE TO CARBINE SALES DATES: Inspection & Repair and grading of M1 carbines has progressed faster than expected. CMP will now accept mail orders for Saginaw, Saginaw S'G', and National Postal Meter carbines on 28 April, 2008. Order acceptance date for Standard Products and IBM has now been set as 7 July, 2008...

I now have two options:
1 - Budget responsibly and put off the pistol purchase, devoting my "fun gun money" to the carbine.
2 - Buy new pistol as scheduled, then act surprised at the April release of the Saginaw S'G' carbines. Sell blood, risque online dog pics, and Mr. Abby's stuff to fund that purchase.

Methinks I'll go with number two.

One little step closer

Someday, I'm going drink mojitos on the beach at Maria la Gorda.



And that day just got a little closer.

Fidel Castro announced his resignation as president of Cuba and commander in chief of Cuba's military Tuesday, according to a letter published in the state-run newspaper, Granma.

I bet they'll be whooping it up in Miami tonight.

Grrr...

The only thing more fun than Monday with the public is Monday with the public after a short weekend.

I wonder what the average useful lifespan of a customer service representative is? I am rapidly approaching the end of mine. I'd think there always comes a day when a CSR says, with a sigh, "This company sucks. All its customers suck. And I have no interest in helping either group any longer."

I'm fairly sure I'm not allowed to set up beer bottles in the back yard and shoot them in the name of stress relief. I'm also fairly sure that diving into a wading pool of cheap American beer would only lead to a headache tomorrow.

So I think I'm going to work some Sparky Zen and get right with the world in the same way he does. A nap.



It might be worth a try.

More gun discussion

Barney brought up a good point in the comments on my "which pistol" post below. The Pro Carry does "feature" a full-length guide rod and a "bushingless" bull barrel.



A full-size 1911 with a GI (that is, partial) length guide rod takes about five seconds to field strip (and that's if you allow a little time for fumbling). The only tool I use is a plastic bushing wrench, and that's on one pistol with a tight bushing. It's not necessary, but it does save some time wrestling that little piece off.



It's that little silver-colored bit under the right end of the spring that we're talking about - that's the guide rod. It fits into that end of the spring, which sits under the barrel. The other end of the spring goes into the plug (which you can see under the left end of the spring). This is a "GI-length" guide rod setup, and the entire thing rides under the barrel, and the plug is held in place by the bushing (the black thing between the guide rod and the plug, below the spring).

Cosmetically, when it's assembled and the slide is locked to the rear, you can see the difference top image in that the guide rod does not protrude.



I've read several exhaustive discussions on the topic - the full-length guide rod requires a tool for assembly and disassemly, and that might be evil. It may be more prone to becoming screwed-up (if something full length bends, even a ilttle, the whole mechanism will be off).

However, that's really kinda irrelevant. If one wants an off-the-shelf lightweight 4-inch 1911, it's going to come with a full-length guide rod. One has some options, from several good names, if it's a major hangup.

I'm over it, though. I'll have a gunshop guy (assuming I can find a shop not populated by the dreaded Evil Gunshop Trolls) demonstrate the takedown, and if it's not rocket science, I'll work with it.

Incidentally, I assume a similar tool requirement for the Walther I'm contemplating. It seems to be of the same design as the P22, and there's nothing painless about field stripping that. Well, the stripping is painless, but the reassembly requires one to curse like a sailor.

Decisions

There is Mildly Unexpected Money inbound, and after the Priorities, I have some to play with.

This, of course, means a New Firearm.

The preliminary decision process was easy. I thought about another Garand, but I'm still looking for a place that will let me shoot FMJ and which has a big/long range. So that was out. I thought about a nice little .270 and scope, but, life being what it is, there's going to be plenty of money between now and my next chance to do any open-country hunting. So that left a new pistol.

I am choosing between two. I have always like the feel of a lightened 4-inch 1911, and so I'm thinking about the Kimber Pro Carry.



I love my 1911s, and this is a very carry-friendly pistol. I don't trust the shorter models, and I don't need laser grips and all the other available insanity. I like these, and I know I'd shoot it.

The other option is the Walther P99 in 9mm. (sorry about the retail link, but Walter's website was being special)



I really like the ergonomics on the P22, and I think I'd love the 9. They make a .40, but I have no intention of adding another caliber to the stable. I find the "QA" trigger concept interesting. I may go to a nearby range and see if they have one to rent.

The decision is probably just going to come down to which one feels best in the hand. Both are attractive, and both would be used.

I love these dilemmas.

So there I was

sitting at my desk, pretending to work whilst my employer pretended to pay me. The gal who sits next to me had, it seems, brought Candy to Share.

(This is awesome. I love candy. Sometimes, when the Mister is out of town, I live on nothing but coffee and Sour Patch Kids.)

She offered me some "chocolate Skittles."

And I accepted because, hey - it's candy. Check this out.



Y'all may want to avoid these if they come your way. I received them on Thursday, worked Friday and Saturday, and the vast majority of them are still on my desk, in the bag.

Because really, "brownie batter," "chocolate pudding," and "caramel," are not meant to be Skittles flavors. They start out tasting like a cardboard box, and leave a slight aftertaste of what the manufacturer intended. Slight.

Not a good thing. Consider yourselves warned.

The manufacturer, incidentally, seemed to too ashamed to admit to these. I found a review of them here.

Yikes!

Stupid Travid McGee novels...I've read them all three times or so and I still can get caught up and stay up way too late to finish one.

And now I've overslept. Off to the Salt Mine!

Valentine's Day

Has officially been declared a non-holiday here. The Mister is out of town and I have not felt overwhelmed by the urge to buy him pink heart-shaped motorcycle accessories anyway.

That's not to say I won't crack a bottle of wine and drink it with the dogs by candlelight this evening, though.

Cheerful news

I'd noted that some evil terrorist thug had run into some misfortune in Syria.

But I had to read through the story before I found the good part. It wasn't just your average run of the mill terrorist POS.

Western intelligence agencies long suspected Mughniyeh in the 1983 bombing of the U.S. Embassy in Beirut, Lebanon, that killed 63 people. He also is suspected in the truck bombing that year of the U.S. Marine barracks in Beirut, an attack that killed 241 people and preceded the U.S. military withdrawal from Lebanon

Oh, really? Killed a lot of Marines and Sailors that day.

From Military.com, we have this other juicy bit:

Mughniyeh was believed to have directed a group that held Westerners hostage in Lebanon. Among them was journalist Terry Anderson, a former Associated Press chief Middle East correspondent who was held captive for six years.

"I can't say I'm either surprised or sad," Andersen told the AP by phone from the Caribbean island of St. Lucia, where he was sailing. "He was not a good man - certainly the primary actor in my kidnapping and many others," he added. "To hear that his career has finally ended is a good thing and it's appropriate that he goes up in a car bomb."

Terry Anderson was a Marine as well, incidentally. Mr. Mughniyeh apparently did not approve of God's Blessed Corps.



We know the Streets of Heaven are guarded by United States Marines, but I hope a couple of them were detailed to the gates of Hell to kick this fat fucker through. Good riddance.

Very nice

There are some good points to being an independent adult. Some even better points when you are such and your spouse is out of town.

Y'all know what I'm getting at, right?

Yup. Bacon for supper.



Bacon and mixed veggies and nothing else. That's a good thing. And I think I still have sufficient time to air out the house before the mister gets home.

[bummed]

I'm just going to bitch a little bit, 'cause that's where I'm at right now.

So the Mister is out of town, fixing problems in Houston. This leaves me at home with the dogs. One whom [cough black puppy cough] insists upon "acting out" when I'm on the phone by stealing shoes and racing through the house. The minute I hang up, he chills out and curls up for a nap.

Yesterday was my regularly scheduled Monday off, which meant I had to go back to work today. There's some sort of evil virus making its way through my workplace, which is probably linked to the fact that I work in an office full of sedentary people. Not that we have any choice about that, but the whole sitting at a desk thing is like having some sort of insect burrowing into one's ear all day long. Ugh. This is also my week to work Saturday, and that makes me so happy I could spit.

There are politics on TV. Mostly this is Barack Obama yapping about hope and destiny and some other shit that makes me think of an overwrought college freshman who's just taken his first drama class. Hillary was talking, too, but I lost interest and went out to smoke. I caught a little of John McCain, who I'm inclined to like, but who seems to irritate lots of Republicans by not being sufficiently Jesus-freaky/immigration-crazed/socially conservative.

God forbid the party that most of the country is pissed off at runs a candidate with some appeal to moderate America. That sounds like a terrible idea.

I probably should have watched the dog show instead. Then again, I'm just ornery enough this evening that I'd have ranted about that. It has happened before.

Alright. I'm off to bed before it starts to sound like a good idea to drink beer and buy firearms accessories online.

Driving with dog help

I had to zip over to my reserve unit today to do some stuff. Since Jack was being hysterical, I thought I'd take him along.

Now, if I could just convince him that I have my hand on the shifting lever because sometimes I need to move it, not to provide him with a place to rest his head.



[sigh]

It's fortunate he's cute, or, like his first owner, I could be tempted to leave him on the side of the highway.

T'was a fabulous day

to be home. And the weather was nice, too. Yes - I am rubbing it in a little for my northern readers.

(It is currently 1 degree F, with a windchill of -16, in Grand Rapids, Michigan)

In Fort Worth, however, it was around 70 today. Warm enough that when we took the Bad Dogs for a walk, there was panting.



And did I mention I wore shorts for this walk?



And a T-shirt?



I am not 100% in love with Texas, but when I'm walking dogs in shorts on the 10th of February, it's not all bad.

I'm going to go make up the guest room now, because that post may be just enough to push the Michigan crew over the edge and get them on planes.

It was fun

at Army school, but I'm glad to be home. I was promoted while deployed without the school, but successful completion was required if I wanted to keep my rank (which I do).

So off I went. I sat in some classes (which were less-than-exciting). Here's how one of my classmates felt about that.



I felt the same way. After a week of those classes, we trudged out to hang out in tents.



Fortunately, it was not a very long trudge. Then again, if it had been, I probably wouldn't have just dumped everything out of my duffel bag into my rucksack. The tents were pretty average.



The food, however... When I decided to take one for the team and claim the "tuna" MRE, I had no idea that it wouldn't suck.



How about that? Yeah, that's real, brand-name tuna. The mayo was normal, and the tortillas entirely edible. We postulated that perhaps the MRE manufacturers are being forced to consume their products now, which would explain the improvement. We've come a long was since the dreaded "four fingers of death" in my Baby Marine days.

And the cold should pass. Nothing that a few days of real sleep and warmth won't fix.

Home!

With a vicious little cold and a giant green bag of filthy laundry.

Out of pocket (New posts below)

I'm going to be out of the loop for a couple of weeks. I'll be back the second weekend in February.

Alas, there's no emergency need for an angry woman and a cranky old German Shepherd to fly to a foreign country and start quietly killing terrorists. I simply have to attend an Army thing at a location where, something tells me, there's not probably a lot of wireless internet access.

I'll toss up a post if I can, but I don't have high hopes there'll really be an opportunity.

You all stay safe, and those of you in primary states better not choose utter nutjob candidates in my absence.

Packed

I think. Maybe. I'm fairly sure.

If not, well, I hope I didn't forget anything real major, like, say, pants.

[pauses, opens duffle bag, digs to bottom and confirms presence of trousers. sighs in relief]

But there is one thing on the list I am not taking. Because they don't exist in our house and I could not find a suitable stand-in at WalMart.

Can you believe you can't get black shower shoes at WalMart? Hell, you can't even get hot pink shower shoes. You can get slippers that are shaped like shower shoes, but I don't think they'd work out well.

Anyway, I'm taking Teva sandals and, if there's no available post exchange, the world will just have to learn to cope.

But you know what is at WalMart? Check this out:



That's Wild Animal Crunch. I'm guessing it's throwing a few pennies per box to a worthy cause, but I think it's weird. Brings to mind crunchy little critter-based breakfast nuggets.

Wednesday

Traditionally a slow day at the office.

I made it out of bed and braved the chilliness to run this morning. But I'd like it noted for the record that it would have been a really nice day to stay in the rack.



Yeah, like that. Only with blankets.

Blah

Note to my Northern Readers: I am NOT complaining about January in Texas. It could be worse - I understand.

But...now is the time when I complain about January in Texas.

The cold isn't so bad, but because I'm in Texas, there seems to be a thought in the back of my mind that it shouldn't be cold at all. And y'all may remember me whining about the darkness when we did the time change. Well, it's still bumming me out. Dark in the morning, dark when I leave work (although there's starting to be a little light left in the sky).

So, yeah. Basically I'm just whining about winter. So let's take a little trip in our minds, shall we?

How about...the beach in April? With a black dog?



Yeah. That's nice.

It's almost tiki bar season again, and that's a good thing.

Oh geez...

Yes, the global economy had some sort of emotional breakdown that led our Federal Reserve Board to cut rates harder than they have in two decades.

We're in the middle of a truly fascinating presidential campaign that involves folks dropping out and other folks shrieking at each other.

We have a war - a couple of them, actually, going on.

And what's been at the top of the CNN and FoxNews pages all afternoon?

Yep. Heath Ledger is dead.

I actually rather liked Heath Ledger, and am one of the few red-blooded Americans who seem to admit to thinking Brokeback Mountain was a pretty good movie.

But come on.

I swear, sometimes our culture embarasses the heck out of me.

Not impressed yet

The stock market opened and, like a drunk getting out of a car after an iffy trip home from the bar, promptly went face down on the pavement.

I have two small retirement accounts, and about 35 years until I have any big plans for them, so I'm not going to hurl myself out a window (it would be anticlimactic anyway - we have a single-story).

I don't think this is the beginning of total social collapse, although I guess I could be wrong.

Probably not a valid reason to call in sick to work, anyway.

Given the wide-open presidential election and the increasingly divided outlook of Ameicans, together with the slow-mo implosion of our economy, I'm going to stay home today and bury ammo in back yard.